New Concept Composition Training and Writing (Volumes A, B, C)

Author: Chief Editor: Meng Xiangyong
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2001-02-12
Features: Excerpt: My Good Mommy - Zhang Wenting (7 years old) from Hubei Shuiguohu Primary School
Introduction: 1. The article is appropriately detailed and concise; where is the detail? 2. How does the author elevate the image of her mother? Everyone has their own mother, and every mother is ordinary yet great. My mother used to be an ordinary worker and is now an ordinary individual business owner. She is so ordinary and plain, but in my eyes, she is the best mommie. Our family runs several bookstores in Wuhan. My father, due to long-term business travel, rarely comes home, leaving all household and bookstore matters on my mother’s shoulders. Every day, I see her slender figure bustling in the bookstore. Years of hard work have left a few fine, uneven wrinkles on her youthful and beautiful face. My heart aches when I see them. That year, I attended school in Wuchang and lived with my grandmother. Every Friday after school, I would return to my family’s home in Hanyang. Each time, I would eagerly run home as soon as the dismissal bell rang, only to be disappointed by an empty, large house. One summer day, as usual, I finished my homework and watched some TV before going to sleep. I don’t know how long I slept before suddenly hearing a loud "bang!" The door opened, followed by footsteps. I knew it was my mother coming home. I thought she would come in and hug me to sleep soon. After a while, I shifted to the side, but there was nothing there?! My mother hadn’t come to sleep yet. I was puzzled and quickly sat up, glancing at the clock—it was almost 11 p.m. I quietly walked to the door and saw my mother sitting at the desk by the window, the desk lamp on, piled with various materials. The room was utterly quiet, except for the "beep beep" of the calculator, the "sh" sound of writing, and the rustling of pages. Everything else was still. My mother didn’t notice me watching her. I didn’t want to disturb her, so I went back inside and walked to the window. The night was truly beautiful—the sky was as dark as ink, and the surrounding "little world" had all its lights off, except for the stars shining alongside my mother’s lonely lamp. The stars in the sky were brighter, twinkling like blue sapphires embedded in a black curtain. I walked to the door again and saw my mother looking so exhausted, her eyelids drooping. One hand was writing, while the other was rubbing her legs, which had been affected by childhood polio! My mother’s old ailment had returned. Seeing this, my tears couldn’t hold back any longer, and I whispered, "Mom, rest!" My mother looked up and saw me. "What’s wrong? You’re still crying at this age. Mom isn’t tired. Go to sleep now, it’s late." Her tone was so gentle and weak, so I had no choice but to go back to my room. Lying in bed, I couldn’t fall asleep. The stars, the moon, and my mother’s beautiful smile kept appearing in my mind. Gradually, the stars, the moon, and my mother’s smile melted together, forming such a beautiful night scene! From the deep blue night sky, a beautiful and melodious lullaby drifted in. I fell asleep to the sweet lullaby. I grew up in that beautiful lullaby.
Commentary: There are countless articles about mothers, but this short piece is well-composed with a balance of detail and spacing, making the mother’s image vivid and touching. First, it addresses the title: every mother is ordinary yet great. The greatness of mothers is the same, but their ordinariness varies greatly. The author’s mother is no exception—kind, frugal, selfless, etc. If not written well, it could turn into a tedious, rambling account. But the author is very clever. She doesn’t list everything in detail but focuses on one night: "It was almost 11 p.m. I quietly walked to the door and saw my mother sitting at the desk by the window, the desk lamp on, piled with various materials."