I still remember that I did not know how to criticize a student eight years ago when my teaching career began. At that time, I often asked students to stand in front me and criticized them with my eyes looking at the ceiling because I would not be able to act sternly if I looked at their innocent faces. Eight years later, I had mastered the techniques to make primary school students follow my rules. I felt like I was a teacher at last in front of those increasingly docile kids. I felt complacent about myself until one thing happened.

    One day, a school leader asked me over and told me that some students recently threw rolls of toilet paper on the floor of the toilet or into the flush toilet on the second floor of the building. After hearing that, I thought: “These damn troublemakers should be taught a lesson!” The leader made some speculation and I said to myself it must have been done by the students of my class. The reasons I had were as follows: There were only several classes on the second floor. The students of Class 5 next to us always obeyed the rules, so they could not have done that; the others on the second floor of the building were third-grade students who were older than my students and their classes were farther from the toilet, so they could not have done that either. I said to myself that I must teach the troublemakers in my class a lesson.

    I sternly talked about it in class and warned my students not to do the same thing again. I was confident that nobody would dare to do it again. However, when I walked into the toilet on the next day, the cleaner walked up to me and said: “Sir, I must tell you a student saw two students of your class had just done that…” Then the cleaner showed me the “crime scene”. I was very angry the moment I saw the scene. I thought that since I had just warned them a day earlier, those troublemakers must have done it on purpose today. So I came back to the classroom right away and talked about it to all of my students. And I hinted the two “suspects” that I had known that they did it by constantly looking at them. And I said that I would give the troublemakers one more chance if they confessed.

    Then I dismissed the class and waited for the troublemakers to come to me to confess. But no one came to “confess”. Only some students came to me and swore they had not done it. One of the students said to me in a low voice: “I didn't do it, sir. I promise. I did once before, but that was when I was in the first grade.” That moment I felt like I was a robber, breaking into the pure and secret territory of a child.

    Soon it was confirmed that it was done by two third-grade students. I blushed when I knew the truth. I asked myself: “Why did I think that my students had done it without any proof right from the beginning? If the students were my child, would I think they did it?” The conversation of two naughty children in my class I overheard the other day during lunchtime have echoed in my mind.

    “I feel the teachers are not the same in the first and second grades.”

    “Yeah, they are not as nice as before.”

    “XXX isn't the same, either. She used to kiss me.”

    “I only forgot to hand in my exercise book, but she said I hadn’t finished the exercise.”

    Their conversation has dispelled my false belief that those children who always behave the worst do not care if their teachers will hug, kiss or praise them.

    B.A. Cyxomjnhcknn said: “To love children is the most important thing for a teacher.” I believe love includes trust.

                                                                 Xiong Yan

                                              Soong Ching Ling School