About Writing Your Alma Mater (1)

Time flies like a shuttle. Five years have passed in the blink of an eye. Primary school life is coming to an end. I am both sad and excited.

Entering the gate of the school, there was a line of gold characters written on the purple and white wall: "We are going to the world from here!"! Five years ago, I walked into the school through this gate, and the first thing I saw was this line of characters. I really want to go back to the old days when I ran into the school with my friends laughing. Now, I'm about to wave goodbye to you, with nostalgia and reluctance in my heart.

Enter the gate, walk along the marble corridor, touch the stone bench paved with red bricks and tiles, walk through the flower bed carefully trimmed by the gardener uncle, and come to the familiar playground.

The ground of the playground is made of green and red plastic. At this time, the bell rang, "bell, bell..." In the past, we always looked forward to the bell, because as soon as the bell rang, like the surging tide, students would rush from the classroom to the corridor with laughter.

When I came to the basketball court, I looked at the high baskets and the boys who were coming to basketball. Ah! Everything is so familiar that I recall the basketball games. I remember one time, when the players were far away from me, I had to fight alone when I saw the enemy players approaching. I made a fake move to pass Xiao Wang. At this time, Xiao Chen and Xiao Li were attacking from left to right. Seeing the situation was not good, I took two steps, three steps at a time, rushed to the basket, made a hard shot, "when", the ball was in... "School is over!" The cries of my classmates brought me back from memory to reality. I slowly came to the front door. The sun cast a meandering figure in front of the school gate, shining on the students and reflecting mottled figures on the ground. Looking at this figure, I could not help but feel that today, one month later, may be the time when I leave my alma mater.

Ah! My alma mater! I'm about to set sail with reluctant to leave you, and I will never forget you!

About Writing Your Alma Mater (2)

I have lived with my alma mater for five years, studied for five years, and grown up for five years. But I left school in the sixth year in order to pursue the goal of going to a school. My 'thought is like a flood, running freely, it reminds me of everything, all the time with my former classmates. Whether it's fighting and scolding, or happy and noisy, these days of sharing weal and woe can never be deleted from my mind.

My class may not be the best, maybe we are often criticized by the adjunct teacher, maybe we will have disputes. However, we are the most united. Nothing can make us hate each other.

August 20 is my last day at my alma mater. The students left happily. But I walked in the campus. Touch our experimental field, touch our little flower trough. He recalled the towering tree, the joy of defeating the teacher, and the days when he was admonished by the headmaster in the military training camp. A burst of tears welled up in my eyes, because I was about to leave my classmates. The friendship between me and my classmates is like the growth ring of a tree. It deepens in circles, but only when the trunk is cut off can the growth ring appear. Only when we leave can we sigh about the speed of time and the depth of friendship with our classmates.

I recall not only my classmates but also my teachers. All the teachers will always be remembered in my heart. They have taught us knowledge, taught us methods and summarized our shortcomings. They are like diligent bees and dedicated spring silkworms. It clarifies our dirt, washes away our troubles, moistens our hearts, takes away our worries, forgives our ignorance, and leaves behind purity, happiness, kindness, and talent.

Under the background of blue sky and white clouds, and under the silent encouragement of my alma mater. I unconsciously accelerated the pace of learning in the new school, walked in the forefront of the class, and moved towards the goal.

About Writing Your Alma Mater (3)

Childhood is a dream, a splendid dream. In the dream, we created countless interesting things; In the dream, we hope to grow up quickly and break away from the constraints of our parents: when we grow up, how carefree and happy we are! Now, when we wake up, we stand here and face the place where we have lived for five years. When the next sunrise rises, we will leave to knock on the door of the future.

We walked quietly. When we passed the plane trees, he rustled. He sent off generations of people. Now, he must be tired; Walking through the bamboo forest, he was still upright. Maybe he remembered that we had picked his withered and yellow leaves. Now, he must be relieved; Walking through the statue of Liang Qichao, he is still solemn. He has cultivated so many people, and now he must be pleased; When we walked through the gate, he gave us a way. We walked past him every day. Now, we must be familiar with each other.

I stopped by the ginkgo tree and watched his waxed green leaves and the old and hard gullies of his body. Looking up, a nest of birds made a nest on him. It turns out that this teacher with a long life has also trained some students who are going to fly!

I stopped in front of the flagpole. This long pole, which is proud of the wind and rain, has raised the flag to the sky many times to accept the praise of the whole school, while he, unknown, is a real pillar!

I stopped in front of the teaching building. In the past, we received the secret recipe of knowledge from the teacher. When it rained cats and dogs, we were chanting "Good rain knows the season, when spring comes"; When the goose feather snow is falling, we are saying "piece by piece, no one can see the plum blossom when flying into it", but he who really protects us from the wind and rain stands firm and unswervingly!

I stood in front of the teacher. Her face was solemn, but her eyes were full of tears. It was a motherly teacher who taught us real knowledge. In the first grade, when I answered questions, I always had no confidence and could not answer them, but I actually understood. The teacher saw this and encouraged me to answer questions in class. Slowly, confidence returned to my heart. In a big red happy newspaper, the teacher specially added a "confidence" to me. These two little words ignited the spark of hope in my heart until now. After that, I really realized the power of Shien.

I stood in front of my classmates. We had already established a relationship in our five years of life. Later, we went our separate ways and did not know when we would meet. I remember that when I was in the fourth grade, I left my Chinese book on my desk after school, and went down to stand in line after school. If no one reminds us, it will be a "disaster". It was raining cats and dogs that day, and everyone's umbrellas were flapping. At this time, a small figure appeared in the rainstorm, holding a book, the Chinese book. He didn't bring an umbrella. I saw the violent rain falling on him. Every time he hit him, he seemed to tremble, and my heart also trembled. He came here. I saw clearly. It was my good friend Ge Jingtao. The next day, he didn't go to school - he had a bad cold. Since then, I have really realized the greatness of friendship.

I saw that everything in my alma mater was seeing us off, and I was saying goodbye to everything in my alma mater. The gorgeous and incomparable past came to my heart, condensed into crystal clear tears, poured out of my eyes.

About Writing Your Alma Mater (4)

Then your lovely smiling faces are still hidden there; The innocent smile is still there; The sound of reading is still there. Where could that be? That is my alma mater, the alma mater that treasures the memories of my wonderful childhood.

The trees on campus are thriving, as if they are greeting me; The uneven 'ground still has the footprints of my classmates and me; The chalk lines are the marks of our tug of war and childhood. When I walked into the classroom, I was still breathing, the students were still breathing, and the teacher was still breathing. When I came to my desk, there was my last inscription: My name is * * *, and I left my last trace. I was sitting attentively, as if the teacher was having a class with me. There was also the writing of the last lesson that the teacher gave us on the blackboard. The teacher's whip was still so old and unchanged. She might want to retain the memories with us.

All these things are still hidden there, which makes my memory endless.

Relevant alma mater composition reading:

Farewell forever! My alma mater!

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