Grateful to the teacher Unforgettable 90 stories of teacher's kindness

Author: Shi Gang
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-07-01
Features: When I was in junior high school, the physical education teacher was a teacher named Yang. 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 physical education.” I stubbornly stood still. 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 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 as each student jumped over the bar, then suddenly heard 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 can I do that?” Yang thought I hadn’t heard him and called my name again loudly. I angrily said, “No, I can’t do it. You know how I am, why do you insist on making me do this?” 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. Yang’s voice called 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 try, I jumped over the height with tears in my eyes.
When class was over, Yang shouted, “!” ( means “” in Chinese, meaning “” in English), and the students scattered. I left the field with tears of anger in my eyes, limping. As I walked down the road, someone gently patted my shoulder. I turned around—it was Yang. He said, “Do you know what? When you jumped the second and third times, 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 will only benefit your leg. You’ve always thought you couldn’t do it because you’ve already set limits for yourself in your heart. Remember, no matter when, never set limits for yourself but instead keep raising the bar.”
It turned out that not only had I jumped over it, but the bar was still being raised higher. It turned out that I could jump high too. I began doing morning calisthenics with my classmates and running with them. Every time I had physical education class, I actively raised the bar higher and higher, successively surpassing it. In my third year of junior high, I realized that my disabled leg had become much stronger, and when I walked, it didn’t seem as crippled anymore.
Now, as a college graduate who has already entered society, whenever I hesitate in my career, I often recall the words Yang told me back then: “Don’t set limits for yourself; keep raising the bar.” I know that only a life without self-imposed limits will keep breaking through.
P10