After speaking, Mr. Zhou sat on a chair and lowered his head on the podium to correct the homework.

Since the first 10 minutes of the teacher's free discussion time was a free time, the students also had a bold discussion.

Because of his short stature, Zhang Zihao is now sitting at the first desk in the fourth row, and there is no one in front of him.

At a glance, he saw the words "My Dad" on the blackboard, white on a black background.

His composition was spread out, a pencil in one small hand, his eyes dazzled at the four words, and his lips pursed.

His little ears moved, and the sound of his classmates discussing reached his ears.

"I don't like my dad, he always smokes, he drinks, his body stinks, his teeth are yellow, and he still comes to hug me every time. My mom always scolded my dad and said he wouldn't let him go to bed if he smoked and drank again. ”

"My dad smoked all the time, but I liked my dad, my dad was amazing, he was so tall that he could let me ride on his neck as a big horse."

"My dad is so clingy, he always calls me a baby daughter, likes to hug me, kiss me, and say I'm his baby and little princess."

"I hate my dad so much, he always said that he wanted me to learn from Brother Amin next door, and said that if I had a choice, I wanted Brother Amin to be his child, hum, I don't want to be my father's child, he doesn't want me, and I don't want him. But when he said this, my mom heard it, and my mom screwed his ear, and my dad screamed in pain. I'm dying of laughter. ”

"My dad only likes my brother, he doesn't like me, hmph, let my brother support my dad in the future, I don't care about him."

"I like my dad the most, my dad is a hotel chef, he cooks the best, he just has to work, he rarely comes back, but my mom said that my dad is also to earn money to support our family."

“……”

Most of the voices in the ears are cheerful, and the students tell their memories of their father, both like and hate.

Zhang Zihao's hand holding the pencil was slightly tight, his little face was tense, and his eyes were a little dazed.

What is his memory of his dad?

It was grandma who said that his father beat him up, fed him, and changed diapers for him, but Zhang Zihao didn't remember it.

The deepest memory is that after my mother left, my father became more and more silent, yelling at him and beating him at every turn.

Grandma always said that Dad loved him the most.

But to love him is to beat him? Zhang Zihao was at a loss.

Zhang Zihao wanted to say that it really hurt to be beaten, he wanted to be close to his father, and wanted to be kissed and hugged by his father like other classmates, saying that he was his father's little baby.

But when Dad palmed his palm at him, all he gave was slaps and pain.

Zhang Zihao lowered his head, his nails subconsciously picked at the pencil, and his heart was very sour.

He didn't dare to approach his father now, and he didn't dare to talk to him anymore.

"Zhang Zihao, aren't you still writing? No matter how bad it is, there will be no time for class to end later. A fleshy little finger poked Zhang Zihao's arm.

Zhang Zihao pursed his lips and tilted his head slightly, he knew that it was the same table and a neighbor who lived in his house, called Zhang Chaochao.

Zhang Chaochao is a little chubby.

When he was in the first grade, because Zhang Chaochao was too fat, everyone was reluctant to share the table with him, and later the teacher assigned Zhang Zihao to share the table with him, and the two were good friends of each other, from the first grade to the present.