When we moved from 7th grade to 8th grade, each class started a big change of blood and changed classes. Then, I was placed in the fourth class of the eighth grade.

When I heard the news, a question kept running in my mind, "What are the rules for school transfers?" ”

When I graduated from seventh grade, my math teacher said, "...... Compulsory education does not allow grades and rankings, and classes will be transferred......"

However, I remember my seventh-grade math teacher once said, "Sometimes adults like to tell white lies." ”

The day before the start of school, I was nervous about taking the summer homework that I hadn't finished and didn't dare to write my name, and went to the new homeroom to sign up. This is a good result, work hard, there is still room for improvement. "Then, I was just asked to write my name on my summer vacation homework, but I didn't open it and read it, so I was put in a pile of summer vacation homework books, and I guess I ended up selling them to the scrapyard.

"What does space mean?" The word swirls in my head. But "How much room do I have for improvement?" ”

I seemed to be aware of the fact that the transfer was based on grades, and the "space" that the new class teacher talked about was the grade ranking.

But I don't really understand that. What does the number "22" and "4" have to do with the fact that there are 6 classes in our grade.

I thought about the rules of this shift game dozens of times, until I learned about probability in math class, and I became paranoid that "anything that happens can be explained by probability problems, and the reason why it can't be explained is that there is a lack of a lottery." This phrase came to my mind, probably from my math teacher in seventh grade.

Then, I formed a general understanding of the probability event of "I was transferred to the fourth class".

First of all, the homeroom teachers of the six grades draw lots to decide which class to take; Then, lots are drawn to determine the order of the students in the class; Next, all students in the grade are ranked; Finally, take the students who have drawn their own numbers.

In this way, I vividly used the plot of the detective novel, and flexibly applied the "Sherlock Holmes Detective Book" that I had read for the first time to life, and speculated that I was in the fourth class, and my homeroom teacher drew the "4" in the lottery at that time. At the same time, my homeroom teacher is also in class 4, and it is possible that this is in Roman numeral order.

However, I also passed the ranking of the grade exam, the rules of Tian Ji horse racing, and found that the grades of the sixth class of the eighth grade were generally better than those of other classes, and the student with the best grades was also in the sixth class. Thus I deny that the number "4" is in Roman numeral order.

Two weeks after the start of school, the head teacher decided to choose the class "two class leaders, seven subject representatives, one study committee member, one sports representative" as the candidate, and in the first round he asked all the students to vote democratically to select eleven outstanding students.

Then there was another round of voting, and I was confirmed as the deputy class leader.

I don't remember why I was chosen as the deputy class leader. Because I usually talk little and meddle less, except for a smiling face, which makes people feel quiet and sweet, suitable for all ages, and pollution-free, I don't know what other advantages there are.

Probably these advantages, in the year of the collective attack of the second secondary disease, it is easier to leave a good image for everyone.

But I clearly know how I was democratically voted for as a good student.

I remember when I was in the eighth grade, I had to take an exam every month, which was commonly known as "one big test in two months and one small test in one month". At that time, my grades were considered to be at the top of the class, but my attention was not at the top of the rankings at all, but I was deeply addicted to the anthology of the award-winning works of the new concept lent to me by my second sister, and fell into an inferiority complex for my lack of imagination.

I've tried hard to read literature, but I still can't make up a story that moves me.

There is a lack of real life, and many things have never even been heard, let alone seen. On a hot summer day, I can't even eat a five-cent ice cream.

My attention is not on myself at all, but on imagining what the outside world is like.

Exams, for me, have become less important. What are the three good students? What sits in which seat? What kind of performance is flattering, etc., these can no longer attract my attention.

I seem to be able to change anything, nothing can be changed. But I want to change everything. Still nothing can be changed.

Can't be serious. Neither attention nor consciousness can be controlled. But he just said to himself that he didn't want to be serious. The reality is that those who have learned sexual helplessness can't be serious.

Does it matter if the score is high or low? The mental deprivation is more unbearable than the physical pain. I don't want to blame anyone, it seems that it is a mistake to exist, but I can't erase myself from everyone's vision and from everyone's memory like a stain, so don't stir up a little more waves.

I remember that when my two sisters were still in No. 8 Middle School, one year, seeing that school had started, the family couldn't get a penny.

Dad, who has always wanted to save face, found the principal's office, hoping that the principal could consider as appropriate, if there are four children in the family who go to school, can he give his sisters some tuition free.

When he came home, at lunchtime, his mother sighed sadly, and his father said with a smile on his face, "I'll tell you a joke." "It's the funniest joke I've ever heard in the world.

My dad said, "I told the principal that I have four children in my family who are going to school, and I really haven't made any money this year, so can I give my children some tuition free." ”

The principal said in amazement: "It's not bad that the four children go to school, and they don't fine you money, and they want to give you free tuition." ”

……

……

In that impoverished life, there was nothing more powerful than this joke that kept me going and not giving up. It's just that I've always remembered my father's joke, and I've always kept sticking to it.

I also care about the report card, but what's the use of caring, I have done too many wrong things, I have a lot of emotions that I want to forget, and my memory has become unreliable.

This feeling of unreliability is even alluded to in every corner of my life.

One English test, my boy in the right row wanted to copy my paper, so I moved it to the right and copied it for him.

After a while, the English teacher appeared at our desk. The teacher didn't speak, and I felt like she was quietly staring at the back of my head, and my mind was blank and I didn't know how to put pen to paper. The nib of the pen floated on the test paper without a master.

I consciously pulled back the paper, and the teacher left. The boy at the next table was even more emboldened and pulled my paper over and copied it. However, I was afraid that the teacher would find out, so after a while, I pulled the paper back and decided to write him a small note with the answers to the multiple-choice questions.

After thinking about it, what was the difference between this and me writing the answers on the paper for him, and then, when he asked me to borrow the test paper again, I gave him my paper, and then took his test paper and started answering the questions for him.

At that time, I didn't understand this kind of behavior, because, when I was in elementary school, teachers would reveal some test questions to us every time we graduated and promoted for the sake of promotion rate or reputation, and they called it "for us to have a good grade".

Later, when I went home and told my parents, my father said, "That's not your real thing." Mom said, "Isn't that cheating?" But they didn't blame the teacher for his actions.

Cheating is cheating, so what? I can't judge, and I can't do multiple-choice questions. So when I think the boy at my table wants to get a good grade, his head is empty, but he at least wants to change his current academic performance, and I am insensitive to the upper-average grades that haven't drowned.

Therefore, I had the idea of helping others, ignoring the teacher's eyes and not seeing, and started a cliff-like rescue relationship with the poor student. But he didn't realize that he was about to be submerged.

When I made myself an alternative student by doing deviant behavior in the exam room, more alternative students were attracted to me, and they took the initiative to find me and asked me to help them cheat on the exam. At first, I enjoyed it.

But one day, at noon, I went to the classroom and found that many of my classmates were looking at me with strange eyes and talking about it. I inadvertently broke the rules that everyone had been abiding by the exam for a long time, and the eyes of being watched instantly killed my feeling of enjoyment.

I began to learn to say no.