a memo

Chapter 53
In the freshman year of high school, there was an art class on the schedule.

When the art teacher is in class, he will talk about art exams from time to time.

It was very reserved, but we all understood what she meant.

Probably, students who feel that their grades are not very good and are interested in art can consider taking the road of art. On weekends, the studio will be opened at the school to teach.

To be honest, I was a little hesitant at the time. I was bad at math, and I didn't have the confidence to think that I could improve my score after three years of study, so I had the idea of ​​taking art.

When I have an idea, I call and talk to my mother.

My mother was silent for a while on the other end of the phone: "First of all, you have no painting experience, and you have to go to a special place for training after the second year of high school. You need to take both cultural and professional courses, which will make you very busy and stressful. Big."

"This is just my mother's opinion and suggestion. My mother thinks it's no problem for you to study culture well and go to an ordinary university."

"Besides, it costs a lot to study art. If you really decide to study art, your mother will definitely support it. I'm afraid that you will not achieve an ideal result by then, and you will feel guilty and sad over there."

"Mom doesn't understand these things very well, and she can't give you too many useful suggestions. You can ask the head teacher, and then think about it yourself. You will be an adult soon, and you must have your own ideas and opinions. Of course You also have to take responsibility for what you decide.”

Hang up the phone and go back to class for evening self-study.In my mind, I fantasized about how I was studying art. On the drawing board, there were sketches that I couldn't bear to look directly at, surrounded by color paints that I couldn't fully recognize.

During the break, I went to the office to find the head teacher and told him my thoughts.

"You take art? Why do you have this idea?" The class teacher was surprised, and dragged a chair over, "Come on, sit down, let's have a good chat."

"I just feel that my cultural class is not very good, and the score line of the art test will be relatively low, although it is not easy." I sat down, playing with my fingers, and the atmosphere was weird, as if I was being interrogated.

"You learn to draw? Do you know that learning to draw is very tiring, and you have no foundation at all. What do you want to do? Three years of cultural courses are not enough for you to learn? You have to learn another one that you don't know at all. Art?"

"I don't recommend you to study art. You'd better not have such thoughts. Many things, once you choose, will be with you for life. If you really choose, you will regret it at that time. There is really no way out. You Think clearly."

At that time, I had only known the head teacher for half a year, and the usual communication was very easy, but that time, he was very serious and even a little emotional.

I didn't seriously think about the art test before, I thought it was very simple, and the score line was relatively low, but in fact, when I really understood the art test, I found that it was really not easy. I had to balance my studies and majors, and I had to go through more training and training than ordinary liberal arts students. Exams, even leave school to study, meet new teachers, and deal with more interpersonal relationships.

No road is easy and smooth, just like the somewhat unorthodox sentence "Life is like an electrocardiogram, if everything goes smoothly, it dies."

At many forked intersections, once a decision is made, we must move forward, and we must learn to bear the consequences by ourselves.

I did not choose the art test in the end. After the second year of high school, the art students successively confirmed the training time, packed up the desk and dormitory, and left.

After the intensive training, most of the students chose to make up for the missed cultural lessons in the cram school because they could not keep up with the school progress until the end of the college entrance examination.

End with the diary on May 2020, 5: The weather is getting hotter, the hair can barely be tied up, and the seats for art candidates are slowly vacating. It seems that we are about to start and go to a different life.

(End of this chapter)