The arduous task of being the head teacher finally fell on my head. Three groups of people representing different organizations had intimate conversations with me and assigned tasks. Although they seemed warm, there was actually no room for negotiation. They conveyed a peculiar message: you have no choice but to work hard for two days. Apart from the natural surprise when I first heard this information, I felt quite relieved afterwards. It's just about helping out in an emergency. I've been here for more than a year, always doing the job of a firefighter, filling in wherever there is a shortage. The whole grade has almost rotated through, and I should be the face most familiar to the majority of the students in the entire grade. Is this reputation? The original promise was one class, even though the classroom was full of people, it was still one class, mostly having plenty of time. Now, it seems like I'm working non-stop, which is a bit hard to adapt to. But the classes are fine, just blow off some steam, only one or two periods, the results are pretty good. Once the novelty wears off, I can leave. However, my own class has long suffered from aesthetic fatigue. Every day, I engage in wits and courage with all kinds of people. Besides looking at their diaries, which brings slight comfort, I am basically boiling with passion during class. There were two times when I felt very uncomfortable and dizzy, immediately informing my mother of the dangerous situation. After self-examination, the doctor directly increased the blood pressure medicine to the highest level. Every day, expensive drugs keep my fragile blood vessels going as I continue to outwit the students. No wonder why my figure doesn't appear in voluntary blood donation activities, and I can't accompany the girl to play the space wheel in Wenfeng Park. That clear warning sign is hanging there: hypertension patients are not allowed. So I can only bear this unclear disadvantage, letting others guess: "You don't look old?" I may not be older than you, but the storms I've experienced aren't fewer than yours. Lamenting the injustice of fortune, so I don't believe in fate, it basically doesn't have eyes. This time, although it's just two days that pass in the blink of an eye, I feel like walking on thin ice. After all, I've been too loose before, how easy is it to tighten up? These monkey kids are sharp. However, I've been a head teacher for N years, what kind of ruffians haven't I seen? Back then, I was young, now survival is important. There's no need to fight desperately, but these two days can't be muddled either. So: get up at six, wow, just getting up 15 minutes earlier feels like midnight, the darkness before dawn. Watching the sky brighten gradually at the stove, preparing breakfast for the family, eat a few bites quickly and rush off. It's particularly cold these two days, the road is full of students rushing to school, everyone is not easy. Ten red lights on Gongnong Road, counting them one by one, arriving at the garage at 7, entering the classroom at 5 past zero. Fortunately, there are not many desks yet, those who have arrived are looked down upon from the door (not many), laughter erupts, people come in one after another. A couple say "good morning, teacher," put down their bags, take out their homework, silence is contagious, isn't this great? There's no jumping around, probably because the cold has seeped into the bones, the body hasn't warmed up yet, discomfort is normal. When everyone is present, there's some noise, the subject representative goes up to lead reading. Bird language, truly bird language, just lacking the liveliness of real bird language, low and without passion. Reminded them a couple of times, still no improvement, it can't be helped, soon the subject representative will call out crisply "collect homework," the classroom becomes lively with moving people, once collected, the subject representatives file out, my task ends for now. Incidentally, I collect two small notebooks, for catching up on lessons, not really confiscating, warning is also a form of punishment. Lunchtime is slightly noisy, but it doesn't affect the overall mood. Shouted a couple of times in the evening, the day ends. The second day is the same, still darkness, cooking, rushing to school, arriving, entering the class. Students seem to be earlier than yesterday. Morning reading, still lifeless, collecting books, still nagging effectively, ending... and then lunchtime, a thorough cleaning for Friday's inspection, then doing exercises, checked twice, pretty good, jokingly called the window unit, hoping they live up to the name. Later didn't go, and chaos ensued. A few small ones playing around caused collateral damage, creating a mess that dragged into every break in the afternoon. Eventually, a strongman lifted a bucket of water in self-defense, hitting his opponent's Hong Kong foot perfectly, splashing water everywhere, not only drenching the bystanders but almost flooding the place. By the time I arrived, several leaders had already given instructions, the culprits were earnestly mopping the floor, the strongman wielding two mops like dual guns, the others making the flood worse with their soggy mops. I became furious as described in the student diaries, even scolding the leaders, finally barely controlling the situation. Since I had to attend a head teacher meeting, I left hastily, hoping this mess would fade with time, water might cover up the traces. The next day, lost face in the end, these little devils, let the head teacher deal with them. Evening ended on time, two days over. Remember a saying: it's easy to go from frugality to luxury, hard to go from luxury to frugality. Perhaps, I've gotten used to living well? But I want to live well, who doesn't? Someone has to live poorly, I've lived poorly before, inevitably will have to again in the future. Now? Survival is key.