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在我的“成长手册”中,有许多往事。有些事,随着成长,被冲淡了;可总有那么一些事,深深地在我的脑袋里扎了根。记得那是一个阴雨绵绵的早晨,我们在考试。教室内一片寂静,只听得见笔和纸摩擦发出的“沙沙”声,同学们个个紧锁眉头,牙齿轻轻咬着下嘴唇,显出一副努力思考的样子。只有一个人例外,那就是我的前桌——他一会儿挠挠后脑勺,然后奋笔疾书;一会儿又仰头看天花板,接着伏在桌上写几笔。有时竟趁老师不注意,
There are many things in my Handbook. There are things that, as they grow, are diluted; there are always things that are deeply rooted in my head. I remember it was a rainy morning, we are exams. Classroom silence, only to hear the pen and paper friction issued by the “sand” sound, the students are all locked his brow, his teeth gently biting his lower lip, showing a pair of hard thinking. With one exception, it was my front desk - he scratched the back of the head for a moment, then worked hard on the book; then looked up at the ceiling again, then laid a few strokes on the table. Sometimes actually take advantage of the teacher do not pay attention,