Writer's composition flowers bloom season think of your composition

People write essay bloom season
　　by the window, quietly blooming Bauhinia, hidden in green leaves, Susu makeup, faint smile. It's spring again, and it's blossoming, but you don't see the teacher back.

　　In the class, the teacher still kept his face blank and talked with a serious expression while the students quietly flipped through the books. Suddenly, he shivered, his face twitched, and made strange sounds. The whole class laughed, screamed, and noisy, but nobody noticed that the big hands on the podium were shaking, "Bang! Bang!" Tapping the book in his hand weakly, clearing his throat, and still looked at the class seriously, but a little helpless and hesitant. The bauhinia by the window also changed as usual, weakly pulling on the petals, a slight spring breeze came, but the petals fell with the wind, lying on the grass.

　　In the afternoon, the class representative announced that the teacher was asking for leave, and the whole class was boiling and making a noise. No need to be tortured by the teacher's strict claws. The bauhinia outside the window was slowly dying, but it couldn't withstand the spring wind.

　　The next day, we all looked forward to the front door full of expectations, imagining a gentle and amiable new teacher walking happily. Suddenly, a familiar figure flashed in. Oh, the teacher is back? The whole class was silent all at once. Bauhinia is waving outside the window.

　　Every step the teacher took seemed to be a little embarrassed. The moment he stepped into the classroom, the teacher stepped out of the air. The class was extremely quiet. Everyone held their breath, and could hear the bounce of bauhinia. The teacher fluttered in with a heart that was on the verge of breaking, a heart that was about to be broken by us. The teacher tried to clear his throat again, his big hands were still shaking, but it was more obvious, and his face was darkened. He looked at us weakly and lectured weakly. Only the brushing sound of the teacher writing and the voice of his speech. Deeply staring, listening quietly, the resentment towards the teacher disappeared in my heart. Looking at the teacher who endured severe pains but still insisted on coming to class, his teaching that "Strictly responsible for himself is a joy" sounded in his ears.

　　In this class, the teacher never appeared again. A bauhinia fell down. The substitute teacher told us that he was ill and could only lie in bed. Our mood sinks into the bottom like the bauhinia. It reminds me how beautiful I was with the teacher.

　　Outside the window, the breeze is blowing, and the flowers are fragrant, flowing in my heart. The teacher's love lingers with this floral fragrance. Years have no trace, and the teacher loves it. In the long river of life, I miss the teachings of the teacher's rigorous teaching, as well as the responsibility and dedication, you love our teachers!