In the last summer vacation, word came that Daisy was seriously ill and was in hospital. Several former classmates and I hurried there. Daisy was my English teacher and in charge of our class when I studied in junior high school. She was very young at that time, and got on quite well with us. We used to regard her not only as a teacher but also as a friend.
When we finally got to the hospital, we saw her lying morbidly in bed. Then we came to know how she had fallen into a faint because of a miscar- riage which began while she was giving an English class to her students. What's more, this was the third time that the same thing happened. After- wards, the doctor added, "She is extremely weak and exhausted." Hearing these things, I was choked up.
To me, she is everything a teacher should be. She was always suppor- tive of us students and could always motivate us to study harder. We were always attracted by her classes deeply and she had led us into a wonderful English world. I can still remember one demonstration she gave us in Junior 3.
That was a rather important lesson for her, but she had kept it a secret until the very day came. When we were wondering about the many unfamiliar faces at the back of our classroom, she stepped in with several small bottles. After announcing the beginning of the class, she continued, "Today, I'll perform an interesting experiment first. All of you must watch carefully and pay attention to everything that I do, or, you'll regret it." In our curious and puzzled sight, she began to fill a cup proportionally with the liquid from three bottles she had brought, and explained to us at the same time, "I'm going to make a mixture with equal amounts of kerosene, caster oil, and vinegar. I suppose you've never done this before, have you?" Actually, we were deeply attracted by those things and wondering what on earth she was going to do. "OK. That's it." She stirred the mixture a little and concluded, "Mm, let me try how it tastes." With these words, she held up one of her fingers and then dipped it into the cup. After a few seconds, she took her finger out and put "it" in her mouth and sucked it. The classroom was extremely quiet, and we all watched her with great fascination. She nodded with a smile. "Special! I shall let you share it." Then, she handed the cup around to us all. Each of us dipped a finger into the mixture and sucked. You can imagine our reac- tions, for what tastes worse than kerosene? Each of us immediately made a face. The mixture tasted horrible. When the cup was at last returned to Daisy, she shook her head and said, "I'm sorry, but none of you watched carefully enough, just like those students in our new text today." Until that moment did we realize all her performance today was the exact content of the new lesson that we were going to learn in the book. Reading the text, we couldn't help laughing and simultaneously, the lesson and its moral (that one should observe things carefully) were deeply impressed upon us, just as the terrible taste of the mixture which clung to my throat for a long time.
"Oh, you've all come". I was suddenly drawn back and found that Daisy opened her eyes slightly and whispered, "Thank you very much... Don't worry about me. I am all right.."
"But, why didn't you rest at home when you became pregnant?" Tom, one of my former classmates interrupted suddenly.
"I just didn't want to delay their lessons. I had thought there was nothing serious... Besides, they've just begun to learn English, and they've already got used to my teaching. It would take time for them to adapt to a new teacher." After a little while she continued, "I do want a baby, but... I... I am not a qualified mother. I..." I saw tears running down her pale face slowly and silently. We really didn't know what to say, so we stood still. There was dreadful silence in the room.
I know that was the Daisy I had known before. She always put her whole heart, mind and soul into teaching and tried her best to make class vivid and interesting. And in fact she had achieved it. I still remember, once, after class, one of my classmates even challenged her. "Why didn't you ask me to answer the question?" On the other hand, she always made us feel more like her friends rather than pretend to be someone superior to us. All her students loved her as much as her classes. She is always on my and each student's mind.
Words now seem so weak to express my feeling and my love for her. But whenever her shadow flashes across my memory, I'll certainly fall back to the past, to each of the lessons she had given me. To us, she is not only sowing the seeds of knowledge, but more importantly, sowing the seeds of love.
