Grateful to Teachers - 90 Unforgettable Stories of Teacher's Gratitude

Author: Teng Gang / Country: Mainland China
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-07-01
Features: When I was in junior high school, the physical education teacher was a Mr. Yang. Mr. Yang had just graduated from a sports school and was assigned to our school. During one of his classes, I habitually told him that I was sick and couldn’t attend physical education. He said, “Why can’t you attend physical education class? I know your legs aren’t very good, but it’s not to the point where you can’t even take PE.” I stubbornly stood still. Mr. Yang looked at me and softened his tone, saying, “Can’t you at least do the calisthenics with us?” Seeing his pleading gaze, I nodded in agreement. After Mr. Yang led us through a set of calisthenics, he went to the sand pit to coach the students in high jump. I stood to the side, watching each student jump over the bar one by one, when suddenly I heard Mr. Yang call my name. He said, “You, it’s your turn.” I looked at him in disbelief. “What? Make me jump high? I’m a cripple, how could I possibly do that?” Mr. Yang thought I hadn’t heard him and called my name again loudly. I said angrily, “No, I can’t do it. You know how I am, why do you insist on making me do this?” Mr. Yang said, “Look at the height of the bar. I know you can jump over it. Why don’t you jump? Your legs aren’t as bad as you think. Why do you have to see yourself as a disabled person, a weakling, and be afraid to face this bar?” Suddenly, I charged toward the bar as if crazy. I was extremely sensitive to the word “disabled,” and I had to jump over that bar. After I landed in the sand pit, I looked back and saw that the bar hadn’t moved at all. I couldn’t believe I had actually jumped over it. Mr. Yang’s voice rang out again: “One more time.” Start, sprint, jump—I easily cleared it again. He didn’t even look at me and said, “Jump again.” On the third attempt, I jumped over the height with tears in my eyes. The class was over, and after Mr. Yang dismissed the students, they scattered. I left the field with tears of anger in my eyes, limping down the road. As I walked, someone gently patted my shoulder. I turned around—it was Mr. Yang. He said, “Do you know, in your second and third jumps, I secretly raised the bar higher, but you still cleared it. I’ve been observing your legs for a long time, and they really aren’t that bad. You’re at a critical age for growth, and more exercise would be good for your leg. You’ve always thought you couldn’t do it because you’ve already set limits on yourself in your heart. Remember, no matter when, never set limits for yourself, but keep raising the bar.” It turned out that not only had I jumped over it, but the bar was still being raised higher and higher. It turned out that I could jump high too. I started doing morning exercises with my classmates and running with them. Every time I had PE class, I actively raised the bar higher and higher, achieving success time and time again. In my third year of junior high, I realized that my disabled leg had become much stronger, and it didn’t seem as crippled when I walked. Now, as a college graduate who has already entered the workforce, whenever I hesitate in my career, I often recall the words Mr. Yang told me back then: “Don’t set limits for yourself, but keep raising the bar.” I know that only a life without self-imposed limits will keep breaking through. P10