In the early morning, the sunlight shining through the brand-new windows on the table in front of me seemed unsettled, spreading out in all directions, always feeling a little dazzling, and the front table became empty, only the light like silk threads drifted around.

I sat behind the light, silent like wood, looking blankly ahead, but I didn't know why, and I could only be silent, like wood, whether the place I was looking at was a blackboard or behind a blackboard, an empty distance or a distant emptiness......

I looked at the tiger, and the confrontation was more than ordinary. The teacher stood on the podium, I didn't hear the bell, but the teacher had already started to speak, maybe the bell had already rang, he was talking to us, we were like wood, but he was still talking......

Perhaps every teacher has been such a student, and in the future time he has stepped into the ideal of "the spring silkworm dies to the end, and the wax torch turns to ashes and tears begin to dry", thinking that the holy wick should be bright from beginning to end, just like his own ideal. However, in the end, there can only be silence, like a piece of wood, a piece of wood that can talk, a piece of wood that speaks things that do not correspond to ideals......

While the teacher was still talking, my eyes finally shifted from nowhere to him, or just from the blackboard to him who happened to be passing by it. How to describe him, what I can describe is only a small part of his life, except for his appearance, his preferences, his regrets, who he loved, who he hated, what kind of story does he have, how can it be summed up in a few words? Luckily, I'm just wood, silent wood, just need silence.

Looking at the tiger in my heart, I realized that what bothered me was not the environment, not my own background, but the stubbornness and stubbornness that I should not have, my short-term passion and heroism, my fantasy of being willing to be mediocre and delusional, and the difference between words and deeds...... I vaguely remember a friend asking me, what is mediocrity? What is Mundane? "Willing to live an ordinary life is mediocre, and resisting an ordinary life with upward dissatisfaction is ordinary." The answer without thinking is more to the point than thoughtful. You can't sink into the environment, even if you can't get rid of the existing environment after all, you still need to work hard with dissatisfaction until you die.

The bell rang for the end of class, the teacher quietly left, the students got up and made noise, I remained silent, like a log, the light in the front row gradually moved to another place, but the light was light after all.