a memo

Chapter 2 Forms
I'm a bad guy at math.

From childhood to adulthood, there are two reasons, laziness and stupidity.

Since I was very young, I have always been slow to respond to math questions, and I have been slow to realize the questions that others can answer quickly, and then "Oh~ that's how it is."

After high school, the problem of being poor in mathematics became more and more serious. To what extent, I could get a fraction of a [-] in the test paper. Generally, I would be so happy that I could fly in the [-]s.

The head teacher often talks to me about my math grades, saying that if one of the six subjects fails, it will affect the whole.

I understand the truth. Even if I don’t understand many things at this age, I still feel that I understand everything.

Probably when I was a sophomore in high school, I changed my math teacher, and we all called him Daddy Sheng.Why is it called dad? First of all, he is an old teacher. I will not say that he is very good at teaching mathematics. The main reason is that he has a strong aura and can speak the most cruel words in the most gentle voice. When he is angry, his face does not have any expression, but he can clearly Feel the surrounding air pressure drop rapidly.

People like me who are bad at math usually take a detour when they see the math teacher, or hurriedly say hello and leave quickly, never thinking about having too much interaction with the math teacher.

Until one afternoon, I was called to write questions on the blackboard because my seat was on the outside.

There are two scariest things in high school: falling asleep in class and waking up, staring at the teacher, and being clicked on a topic that you can't write.

At that time, Father Sheng had just come to teach us, and he still couldn't recognize them all.

There is a geometric body on the blackboard, and we need to use the knowledge points of body diagonals. Coincidentally, this knowledge point was just mentioned the day before, but I didn’t listen to it when I was sick and asked for leave.

A total of two people were called up, and the other classmate was thumping, feeling like he was going to smash the blackboard, and he seemed to be very good at writing.

I looked at the question on the whiteboard, turned the chalk in my hand, and slowly drew the cube in the question on the blackboard.

The classmate next to me had finished writing, and I threw away the chalk and went down. I slowly wrote on the blackboard: proof and known.

The students below have almost finished writing. Father Sheng looked at the blackboard next to him, ticked it, and then walked slowly to me, looking at the pile of known conditions I wrote: "Can't write?"

I didn't dare to vent my anger, and looked at the blackboard without moving.

"I just talked about it yesterday. It stands to reason that I should be able to. You didn't attend the class?" Father Sheng said again, but I couldn't hear the tone, but I was already very scared.

"Sigh..." Father Sheng sighed, I could feel that he was really disappointed, and even wondered if I really had some brain problems so I couldn't write this kind of question, "Go on."

I pursed my lips, slowly put the chalk back, and slowly walked back to my seat.In just a few seconds, it seemed like the century had changed.

In fact, in the past, there were many times when I couldn’t write math problems on the blackboard. At most, I was embarrassed for a while, and I could almost recover after another class. But this time it was different. I felt very ashamed and had no reason.

So after class, I ran over to stop Daddy Sheng: "I'm sorry, teacher, I didn't come to ask for leave yesterday due to stomach upset. I don't know the formula of body diagonal, so I didn't work out the problem. I won't do it next time."

Strangely enough, Father Sheng's focus is on the first half: "Uncomfortable stomach? Pay attention to your diet and take care of your body."

I nodded, not knowing for a while whether to repeat the second half of the sentence, I felt that he didn't hear it.

"Okay, let's go back." Just when someone came to ask a question with a paper, Father Sheng waved to me.

Later, Father Sheng remembered me, maybe my apology left a little impression on him.

Later, the school has a form for improving the best and making up for the poor. Teachers can fill in the names of students who feel that their grades are not very good, including other basic information, and then pay more attention to such students and help them improve their weak subjects.

It sounds very reliable, but in fact it is a formalism.

When the form was handed out, it was about two or three days before Father Sheng and I apologized.

As expected, I was called to the office to fill out a form.

How did it feel? At first I thought it was because the homework was not done well, and I was called to criticize it, so I was very nervous. After reading the form, I was relieved at first, but when I saw the words "improving the best and making up for the poor" on the form, I froze for a while , followed by numbness of the scalp.

I am a self-aware person. It is well known that I am poor in mathematics. I even understand the teacher’s intention. I may improve my mathematics after completing this form and the teacher’s guidance. But if I really use this form to let me Filling in, printing me in black and white with labels like "classmates who are poor in mathematics", I think it is very shocking.

Look at my fragile self-esteem.At that time, I thought, why is it me, and there are other people with a similar level of mathematics as me, why must it be me? Is it because I feel that I am poor but there is still a way to save it, or something else?

"Teacher wants you to fill out a form." Father Sheng still had a gentle voice, with no expression on his face.

"Oh okay." I lowered my head and started filling out the information.

To be honest, at a certain moment, I had an imagination in my mind: I put the form on the table handsomely, and then said to Father Sheng, I don’t want to fill it out, I will definitely be able to learn math well, we will wait and see, and then slam the door and leave. out.

However, the reality is skinny after all, so I lowered my head and started writing stroke by stroke.

"Come on, take a photo." Another teacher pointed at me with his mobile phone, probably because of the school's formalism.

For a while, I didn't know what expression to use to look at the camera, should I smile, but this is not an honorable thing.

Should I keep a straight face? What if, what if the teacher is doing it for my own good, and thinks of me filling out the form the first time, thinking of me.

I haven't seen that photo so far, and I don't know where it was sent. Anyway, the ears must be very red, and the expression on his face is wonderful.

I am grateful to the teacher for thinking of me to fill in the form, even if it is just a formality, and I am not grateful to him for asking me to fill in the form, because at the moment when I heard the sound of the phone taking pictures, my embarrassment and frustration at that time made me relieved a long time later. come over.

　Mathematics abused me thousands of times, I
　　
　
(End of this chapter)