love education

Chapter 15 January (1)
brief introduction

Teaching assistant
Staddy's Book Collection
blacksmith's son

an interesting visit
Funeral of King Victoria Emmanuel

Franty is expelled from school
Drumming Boys of Sardinia
patriotism
Jealous
franty's mother
希望
Teaching assistant
Wednesday 4nd

My father was quite right. Because of his poor health, the head teacher has been in a bad mood these days.In fact, for the past three days he had been taught by a teaching assistant, a small, beardless young man who looked like a child.

This morning, a shameful incident happened in the classroom. Two days ago, there was a lot of commotion in the class.Because the teaching assistant has such a good temper, he just kept saying: "Be quiet, be quiet, I beg you." However, this morning, the students couldn't control it anymore, and the classroom was extremely noisy , completely drowning out the teaching assistant's voice, he tried hard to admonish and beg the students not to make trouble again.However, his behavior was just a waste of energy.

Twice the Headmaster appeared at the door and poked his head in, but as soon as he left the room hummed like a marketplace again.Even when Dross and Galen kept turning their heads, gesturing to silence their classmates and telling them that it was shameful to be loud, no one heeded their advice.Only Stadi sat quietly, without saying a word, with his elbows on the table and his fists on his temples. Perhaps he was meditating on those famous books at this time; The hook-nosed, stamp-collecting fellow was absorbed in writing a catalog of participants, each of whom, for two coppers, would be entered into a raffle to win a pocket inkwell; They talked, laughed, and tapped the tabletop with the nib of a pen so that the surface was covered with marks from the nib. Some even used elastic garter belts to pop out small balls made of paper.

The poor teaching assistant grabbed hold of one and the other, took them by the arms, shook them hard, and made one of them stand facing the wall.Time passed by like this bit by bit, and the teaching assistant still didn't know what to do. He could only plead and question them:
"Why are you doing this? Do you expect me to punish you with violence?"

He smashed his fist hard on the small podium, and shouted angrily and sadly: "Silence! Silence! Silence!"

But it was still difficult for us to hear his voice, and the riot became more difficult to control.Franty threw a paper dart at him, some meowed like cats, others banged others on the head, and the commotion and uproar was indescribable.Suddenly the inspecting janitor appeared, came in and said:
"Teacher, please go over there, principal."

The teaching assistant stood up and walked out quickly, with helplessness and despair on his face.After the assistant left, the class became even more chaotic.

At this moment, Galen stood up suddenly, the flesh on his face twitched, his fists clenched, and his voice became choked with anger:
"Stop making trouble, you bastards! You take advantage of the opportunity to bully the teacher because he is nice. If he really punishes you cruelly, you will bow your heads like dogs and beg for mercy. You are a bunch of cowards. If any of you dare Sneer at him once, and I will wait for him outside the door, I can guarantee that I will knock out his teeth, I swear, even in front of his father!"

The classroom immediately fell silent, alas, Galen's eyes were burning with anger!He looked like a raging lion cub. He stared at the most daring Franty, and then turned his eyes to the other troublemakers. These unscrupulous guys just lowered their heads.

When the teaching assistant returned to the classroom again, his eyes were red, and the class was so quiet that one could hear a needle drop on the ground.He stood there in amazement, and then he saw Galen, still trembling all over his body as if on fire.The teacher immediately understood everything, and he said to Galen in a voice full of infinite love and compassion, as if he were speaking to his own brother: "Thank you, Galen."

Staddy's Book Collection
Today, I was invited to hang out at Staddy's house, which is just across from the school building.When I saw his little library, I was overwhelmed with admiration, even jealousy.His family was not rich at all, and he couldn't afford many books, but he kept all the books handed out by the school well, together with the books given to him by his relatives.He saved every copper coin he could get his hands on, spending it only when he was in the bookstore.In this way, he collected a lot of books, almost catching up with a small library.

His father was very pleased with his hobby, and bought him a very handsome bookcase in walnut, with a green curtain on it.Stadi wrapped most of the books with paper of his favorite color. When he gently pulled the thin thread, the green curtain would be divided to two sides, so three rows of books of various colors appeared up.All the books, neatly arranged and gleaming, with their titles stamped in gold letters on the back, were storybooks and travel essays, as well as poetry and illustrated books.

Stadi also knew how to match colors better, placing white books next to red, yellow next to black, and blue next to white.In this way, the books look very beautiful when viewed from a distance.And sometimes, he also changed the order of the books to give himself a new feeling.

He also made a catalog of the bookshelves, and like a librarian, he was always standing close to the books, dusting them off, flipping through the pages and checking the glued joints.It was a pleasure for him to open those books.He used his big, stubby hands to flip through the pages of the book vigorously, and those books seemed to be refurbished, while my books were already dilapidated and dilapidated.

It's like a holiday for him to wipe down those new purchases.He put the books in place, then picked them up again and looked at them from all directions, staring at them as if they were treasures.A full hour passed, and he had no time to show me anything but his books.His eyes are not working well from too much reading.

Sometimes his father would come into the house, also tall and bushy, with a big head like Staddy's.His father tapped Staddy on the back of the neck a few times and said loudly, "What do you think of him? Huh? He's got a brass head, fat, fat, but a head that can do anything." Yes, I promise you."

Staddy half-opened his eyes, and under the caress of the big rough hand, he behaved like a big hound.I don't know why, I dare not joke with him, I can't believe he is only a year older than me, when he said to me at the door:

"Then, see you next time!"

I leaned close to the face that always looked serious, and answered him:

"Salute, sir," as if addressing a grown-up.

I said this to my father when I got home:

"I really don't understand. Studi doesn't have any natural talents, nor any particularly good habits, and his face looks so ridiculous, but I feel that I can always learn something from him." And my father said to me:

"That's because he exudes an aura."

I told him again: "In the hour I spent with him, he didn't say more than fifty words, he didn't show me a toy, and he didn't laugh once, but I like it." Go visit him at home."

My father replied, "That's because you respected him."

blacksmith's son

Yes, I respect Stadi.But I respect Prikos as much, and it is not enough to say that I respect him.Prikos is the son of the blacksmith. He is thin and small, but he is kind. It's just that his eyes are full of sadness, and he often shows fear and bewilderment. You", his physique has always been weak, but he has never stopped studying.

His father used to go to the pub and drink brandy, and then come home drunk, beat him for no reason, and threw his books and exercise books behind him with a wave of his hand.Poor Prikos used to come to school with bruises all over his face, blue and purple, and sometimes his whole face was swollen, and his eyes were red and swollen from crying too much.

He would never admit, though, that his father beat him. "Your father must be beating you," his classmates would tell him, and he would immediately retort, "No, no." He said it so that his father would not be ashamed.

"You didn't burn this paper book with fire, did you?" the teacher said, showing him his homework book, which was half-burned on the poor book.

"Yes," he answered in a trembling voice, "I accidentally dropped it on the fire."

In fact, each of us knew very well that when the son was doing his homework, his drunk father kicked over the table and the kerosene lamp.The family lived in the attic on top of my house, and the housekeeper told us everything.One day my sister Sylvia heard Prikos screaming from the balcony, and his father pushed him down the stairs because he asked him for a few coppers for a grammar book.

His father drank a lot but never worked hard, and the family was often underfed, alas, how many times Pricos had come to school hungry, and he would sometimes sneak nibbles of what Galen gave His bread, or eating the apple given to him by the female teacher who taught the second-grade small class with the red feather on her head.But he never said to us: "I'm hungry, my father never gives me anything to eat."

His father would come to pick him up occasionally when he passed by the school. He was pale, his legs were shaking constantly, and he had a fierce look on his face. His hair covered his eyes, and his hat was buckled askew on top of his head.Whenever the poor little boy saw him in the street, he couldn't help shaking all over.However, he would immediately show a smile and run forward to see his father, but his father always acted as if he hadn't seen him, thoughtful.

Poor Pricos, he had to mend the battered exercise-books himself, borrow other people's books to finish his studies, and sew the pieces of his shirt together with pins.I can't bear to see him doing gymnastics, he can't keep up with the rhythm, it's because of what he's wearing, he wears such big shoes, the trousers drag on the floor, and the jacket is so big, the cuffs are rolled up on the elbow.However, he is studying hard and trying his best to do his best. If he can study at home with peace of mind, he must be the first few students.

When he came to school this morning, he had nail scratch marks on one cheek, and the classmates gathered around him and said:

"It must have been done by your father. You can't deny it this time. You have to tell the class teacher what your father did to you, and he will make your father pay for it."

However, Prikos jumped up, his face was flushed, and his voice trembled with anger: "It's not like that, it's not like that, my father won't hit me!"

But during the next class, his tears fell on the long table, and whenever others looked at him, he tried to put on a smile so that others would not see that he had just cried.

Poor Pricos, I want him to come to-morrow when Dros, Cletti, and Nellie are coming to our house, I want him to dine with me, let him look at my books, and Wanted to turn the whole house upside down to keep him happy, and stuff his pockets with candy just to keep poor Prix's heart full for a while.Poor Prikos, how fine and brave he is.

an interesting visit
Thursday the 12th

For me, this is the best Thursday of the year.At two o'clock exactly, Deros and Cletti, and little Nelly the hunchback, came to our house, and Pricos had not asked his father's permission.Dross and Cletti were still rejoicing when they met Cross on the street. Cross was the son of the greengrocer with a crippled arm and red hair who was pulling a cart. To sell cabbages, to earn a copper coin to buy a pen.He is full of energy, because his father wrote back from the United States, saying that he may return home at any time.

Oh, we had two wonderful hours together, and Deros and Cletti were two of the most energetic boys in the school, and my father liked them very much.Cletti, in his chocolate tights and pussy cap, was a mischievous brat, always trying to mess things up and turn things upside down.

He had already carried half a truckload of firewood that morning, but he was still running around my house, interested in everything, talking nonstop, like a squirrel As agile and dexterous.He ran to the kitchen after a while and asked the cook how much it cost to buy a bunch of firewood, because his father's selling price was always set at 45 cents.He was always talking about his father, about how he was a soldier in the No. 40 Ninth Regiment, and fought in the Battle of Kustoza when he was serving Prince Amberto.Cletti was always so polite, which was very out of character for the wood-filled environment he was born and raised in. My father said that there was a noble temperament in his blood.

And Dross also made us very happy. His geography knowledge is not inferior to that of the geography teacher. He closed his eyes and said to us:

(End of this chapter)