小学生作文《孤独》火了,老师满分评论直呼:天才,看哭了!

   清荷心灵絮语 一路走来  感恩有你

观自在菩萨,行深般若波罗蜜多时,照见五蕴皆空,度一切苦厄。舍利子,色不异空,空不异色,色即是空,空即是色,受想行识,亦复如是。舍利子,是诸法空相,不生不灭,不垢不净,不增不减。是故空中无色,无受想行识,无眼耳鼻舌身意,无色声香味触法,无眼界,乃至无意识界,无无明,亦无无明尽,乃至无老死,亦无老死尽。无苦集灭道,无智亦无得。以无所得故。菩提萨埵,依般若波罗蜜多故,心无挂碍。无挂碍故,无有恐怖,远离颠倒梦想,究竟涅盘。三世诸佛,依般若波罗蜜多故,得阿耨多罗三藐三菩提。故知般若波罗蜜多,是大神咒,是大明咒,是无上咒,是无等等咒,能除一切苦,真实不虚。故说般若波罗蜜多咒,即说咒曰:揭谛揭谛,波罗揭谛,波罗僧揭谛,菩提萨婆诃。观自在菩萨,行深般若波罗蜜多时,照见五蕴皆空,度一切苦厄。舍利子,色不异空,空不异色,色即是空,空即是色,受想行识,亦复如是。舍利子,是诸法空相,不生不灭,不垢不净,不增不减。

When Paul Jobs was mustered out of the Coast Guard after World War II, he made a wager with his crewmates. They had arrived in San Francisco, where their ship was decommissioned, and Paul bet that he would find himself a wife within two weeks. He was a taut, tattooed engine mechanic, six feet tall, with a passing resemblance to James Dean. But it wasn’t his looks that got him a date with Clara Hagopian, a sweet-humored daughter of Armenian immigrants. It was the fact that he and his friends had a car, unlike the group she had originally planned to go out with that evening. Ten days later, in March 1946, Paul got engaged to Clara and won his wager. It would turn out to be a happy marriage, one that lasted until death parted them more than forty years later. Paul Reinhold Jobs had been raised on a dairy farm in Germantown, Wisconsin. Even though his father was an alcoholic and sometimes abusive, Paul ended up with a gentle and calm disposition under his leathery exterior. After dropping out of high school, he wandered through the Midwest picking up work as a mechanic until, at age nineteen, he joined the Coast Guard, even though he didn’t know how to swim. He was deployed on the USS General M. C. Meigs and spent much of the war ferrying troops to Italy for General Patton. His talent as a machinist and fireman earned him commendations, but he occasionally found himself in minor trouble and never rose above the rank of seaman. Clara was born in New Jersey, where her parents had landed after fleeing the Turks in Armenia, and they moved to the Mission District of San Francisco when she was a child. She had a secret that she rarely mentioned to anyone: She had been married before, but her husband had been killed in the war. So when she met Paul Jobs on that first date, she was primed to start a new life. Like many who lived through the war, they had experienced enough excitement that, when it was over, they desired simply to settle down, raise a family, and lead a less eventful life. They had little money, so they moved to Wisconsin and lived with Paul’s parents for a few years, then headed for Indiana, where he got a job as a machinist for International Harvester. His passion was tinkering with old cars, and he made money in his spare time buying, restoring, and selling them. Eventually he quit his day job to become a full-time used car salesman. Clara, however, loved San Francisco, and in 1952 she convinced her husband to move back there. They got an apartment in the Sunset District facing the Pacific, just south of Golden Gate Park, and he took a job working for a finance company as a “repo man,” picking the locks of cars whose owners hadn’t paid their loans and repossessing them. He also bought, repaired, and sold some of the cars, making a decent enough living in the process. There was, however, something missing in their lives. They wanted children, but Clara had suffered an ectopic pregnancy, in which the fertilized egg was implanted in a fallopian tube rather than the uterus, and she had been unable to have any. So by 1955, after nine years of marriage, they were looking to adopt a child. Like Paul Jobs, Joanne Schieble was from a rural Wisconsin family of German heritage. Her father, Arthur Schieble, had immigrated to the outskirts of Green Bay, where he and his wife owned a mink farm and dabbled successfully in various other businesses, including real estate and photoengraving. He was very strict, especially regarding his daughter’s relationships, and he had strongly disapproved of her first love, an artist who was not a Catholic. Thus it was no surprise that he threatened to cut Joanne off completely when, as a graduate student at the University of Wisconsin, she fell in love with Abdulfattah “John” Jandali, a Muslim teaching assistant from Syria. Jandali was the youngest of nine children in a prominent Syrian family. His father owned oil refineries and multiple other businesses, with large holdings in Damascus and Homs, and at one point pretty much controlled the price of wheat in the region. His mother, he later said, was a “traditional Muslim woman” who was a “conservative, obedient housewife.” Like the Schieble family, the Jandalis put a premium on education. Abdulfattah was sent to a Jesuit boarding school, even though he was Muslim, and he got an undergraduate degree at the American University in Beirut before entering the University of Wisconsin to pursue a doctoral degree in political science. In the summer of 1954, Joanne went with Abdulfattah to Syria. They spent two months in Homs, where she learned from his family to cook Syrian dishes. When they returned to Wisconsin she discovered that she was pregnant. They were both twenty-three, but they decided not to get married. Her father was dying at the time, and he had threatened to disown her if she wed Abdulfattah. Nor was abortion an easy option in a small Catholic community. So in early 1955, Joanne traveled to San Francisco, where she was taken into the care of a kindly doctor who sheltered unwed mothers, delivered their babies, and quietly arranged closed adoptions. Joanne had one requirement: Her child must be adopted by college graduates. So the doctor arranged for the baby to be placed with a lawyer and his wife. But when a boy was born—on February 24, 1955—the designated couple decided that they wanted a girl and backed out. Thus it was that the boy became the son not of a lawyer but of a high school dropout with a passion for mechanics and his salt-of-the-earth wife who was working as a bookkeeper. Paul and Clara named their new baby Steven Paul Jobs. When Joanne found out that her baby had been placed with a couple who had not even graduated from high school, she refused to sign the adoption papers. The standoff lasted weeks, even after the baby had settled into the Jobs household. Eventually Joanne relented, with the stipulation that the couple promise—indeed sign a pledge—to fund a savings account to pay for the boy’s college education. There was another reason that Joanne was balky about signing the adoption papers. Her father was about to die, and she planned to marry Jandali soon after. She held out hope, she would later tell family members, sometimes tearing up at the memory, that once they were married, she could get their baby boy back. Arthur Schieble died in August 1955, after the adoption was finalized. Just after Christmas that year, Joanne and Abdulfattah were married in St. Philip the Apostle Catholic Church in Green Bay. He got his PhD in international politics the next year, and then they had another child, a girl named Mona. After she and Jandali divorced in 1962, Joanne embarked on a dreamy and peripatetic life that her daughter, who grew up to become the acclaimed novelist Mona Simpson, would capture in her book Anywhere but Here. Because Steve’s adoption had been closed, it would be twenty years before they would all find each other. Steve Jobs knew from an early age that he was adopted. “My parents were very open with me about that,” he recalled. He had a vivid memory of sitting on the lawn of his house, when he was six or seven years old, telling the girl who lived across the street. “So does that mean your real parents didn’t want you?” the girl asked. “Lightning bolts went off in my head,” according to Jobs. “I remember running into the house, crying. And my parents said, ‘No, you have to understand.’ They were very serious and looked me straight in the eye. They said, ‘We specifically picked you out.’ Both of my parents said that and repeated it slowly for me. And they put an emphasis on every word in that sentence.” Abandoned. Chosen. Special. Those concepts became part of who Jobs was and how he regarded himself. His closest friends think that the knowledge that he was given up at birth left some scars. “I think his desire for complete control of whatever he makes derives directly from his personality and the fact that he was abandoned at birth,” said one longtime colleague, Del Yocam. “He wants to control his environment, and he sees the product as an extension of himself.” Greg Calhoun, who became close to Jobs right after college, saw another effect. “Steve talked to me a lot about being abandoned and the pain that caused,” he said. “It made him independent. He followed the beat of a different drummer, and that came from being in a different world than he was born into.” Later in life, when he was the same age his biological father had been when he abandoned him, Jobs would father and abandon a child of his own. (He eventually took responsibility for her.) Chrisann Brennan, the mother of that child, said that being put up for adoption left Jobs “full of broken glass,” and it helps to explain some of his behavior. “He who is abandoned is an abandoner,” she said. Andy Hertzfeld, who worked with Jobs at Apple in the early 1980s, is among the few who remained close to both Brennan and Jobs. “The key question about Steve is why he can’t control himself at times from being so reflexively cruel and harmful to some people,” he said. “That goes back to being abandoned at birth. The real underlying problem was the theme of abandonment in Steve’s life.” Jobs dismissed this. “There’s some notion that because I was abandoned, I worked very hard so I could do well and make my parents wish they had me back, or some such nonsense, but that’s ridiculous,” he insisted. “Knowing I was adopted may have made me feel more independent, but I have never felt abandoned. I’ve always felt special. My parents made me feel special.” He would later bristle whenever anyone referred to Paul and Clara Jobs as his “adoptive” parents or implied that they were not his “real” parents. “They were my parents 1,000%,” he said. When speaking about his biological parents, on the other hand, he was curt: “They were my sperm and egg bank. That’s not harsh, it’s just the way it was, a sperm bank thing, nothing more.” Silicon Valley The childhood that Paul and Clara Jobs created for their new son was, in many ways, a stereotype of the late 1950s. When Steve was two they adopted a girl they named Patty, and three years later they moved to a tract house in the suburbs. The finance company where Paul worked as a repo man, CIT, had transferred him down to its Palo Alto office, but he could not afford to live there, so they landed in a subdivision in Mountain View, a less expensive town just to the south. There Paul tried to pass along his love of mechanics and cars. “Steve, this is your workbench now,” he said as he marked off a section of the table in their garage. Jobs remembered being impressed by his father’s focus on craftsmanship. “I thought my dad’s sense of design was pretty good,” he said, “because he knew how to build anything. If we needed a cabinet, he would build it. When he built our fence, he gave me a hammer so I could work with him.” Fifty years later the fence still surrounds the back and side yards of the house in Mountain View. As Jobs showed it off to me, he caressed the stockade panels and recalled a lesson that his father implanted deeply in him. It was important, his father said, to craft the backs of cabinets and fences properly, even though they were hidden. “He loved doing things right. He even cared about the look of the parts you couldn’t see.” His father continued to refurbish and resell used cars, and he festooned the garage with pictures of his favorites. He would point out the detailing of the design to his son: the lines, the vents, the chrome, the trim of the seats. After work each day, he would change into his dungarees and retreat to the garage, often with Steve tagging along. “I figured I could get him nailed down with a little mechanical ability, but he really wasn’t interested in getting his hands dirty,” Paul later recalled. “He never really cared too much about mechanical things.” “I wasn’t that into fixing cars,” Jobs admitted. “But I was eager to hang out with my dad.” Even as he was growing more aware that he had been adopted, he was becoming more attached to his father. One day when he was about eight, he discovered a photograph of his father from his time in the Coast Guard. “He’s in the engine room, and he’s got his shirt off and looks like James Dean. It was one of those Oh wow moments for a kid. Wow, oooh, my parents were actually once very young and really good-looking.” Through cars, his father gave Steve his first exposure to electronics. “My dad did not have a deep understanding of electronics, but he’d encountered it a lot in automobiles and other things he would fix. He showed me the rudiments of electronics, and I got very interested in that.” Even more interesting were the trips to scavenge for parts. “Every weekend, there’d be a junkyard trip. We’d be looking for a generator, a carburetor, all sorts of components.” He remembered watching his father negotiate at the counter. “He was a good bargainer, because he knew better than the guys at the counter what the parts should cost.” This helped fulfill the pledge his parents made when he was adopted. “My college fund came from my dad paying $50 for a Ford Falcon or some other beat-up car that didn’t run, working on it for a few weeks, and selling it for $250—and not telling the IRS.” The Jobses’ house and the others in their neighborhood were built by the real estate developer Joseph Eichler, whose company spawned more than eleven thousand homes in various California subdivisions between 1950 and 1974. Inspired by Frank Lloyd Wright’s vision of simple modern homes for the American “everyman,” Eichler built inexpensive houses that featured floor-to-ceiling glass walls, open floor plans, exposed post-and-beam construction, concrete slab floors, and lots of sliding glass doors. “Eichler did a great thing,” Jobs said on one of our walks around the neighborhood. “His houses were smart and cheap and good. They brought clean design and simple taste to lower-income people. They had awesome little features, like radiant heating in the floors. You put carpet on them, and we had nice toasty floors when we were kids.” Jobs said that his appreciation for Eichler homes instilled in him a passion for making nicely designed products for the mass market. “I love it when you can bring really great design and simple capability to something that doesn’t cost much,” he said as he pointed out the clean elegance of the houses. “It was the original vision for Apple. That’s what we tried to do with the first Mac. That’s what we did with the iPod.” Across the street from the Jobs family lived a man who had become successful as a real estate agent. “He wasn’t that bright,” Jobs recalled, “but he seemed to be making a fortune. So my dad thought, ‘I can do that.’ He worked so hard, I remember. He took these night classes, passed the license test, and got into real estate. Then the bottom fell out of the market.” As a result, the family found itself financially strapped for a year or so while Steve was in elementary school. His mother took a job as a bookkeeper for Varian Associates, a company that made scientific instruments, and they took out a second mortgage. One day his fourth-grade teacher asked him, “What is it you don’t understand about the universe?” Jobs replied, “I don’t understand why all of a sudden my dad is so broke.” He was proud that his father never adopted a servile attitude or slick style that may have made him a better salesman. “You had to suck up to people to sell real estate, and he wasn’t good at that and it wasn’t in his nature. I admired him for that.” Paul Jobs went back to being a mechanic. His father was calm and gentle, traits that his son later praised more than emulated. He was also resolute. Jobs described one example: Nearby was an engineer who was working at Westinghouse. He was a single guy, beatnik type. He had a girlfriend. She would babysit me sometimes. Both my parents worked, so I would come here right after school for a couple of hours. He would get drunk and hit her a couple of times. She came over one night, scared out of her wits, and he came over drunk, and my dad stood him down—saying “She’s here, but you’re not coming in.” He stood right there. We like to think everything was idyllic in the 1950s, but this guy was one of those engineers who had messed-up lives. What made the neighborhood different from the thousands of other spindly-tree subdivisions across America was that even the ne’er-do-wells tended to be engineers. “When we moved here, there were apricot and plum orchards on all of these corners,” Jobs recalled. “But it was beginning to boom because of military investment.” He soaked up the history of the valley and developed a yearning to play his own role. Edwin Land of Polaroid later told him about being asked by Eisenhower to help build the U-2 spy plane cameras to see how real the Soviet threat was. The film was dropped in canisters and returned to the NASA Ames Research Center in Sunnyvale, not far from where Jobs lived. “The first computer terminal I ever saw was when my dad brought me to the Ames Center,” he said. “I fell totally in love with it.” Other defense contractors sprouted nearby during the 1950s. The Lockheed Missiles and Space Division, which built submarine-launched ballistic missiles, was founded in 1956 next to the NASA Center; by the time Jobs moved to the area four years later, it employed twenty thousand people. A few hundred yards away, Westinghouse built facilities that produced tubes and electrical transformers for the missile systems. “You had all these military companies on the cutting edge,” he recalled. “It was mysterious and high-tech and made living here very exciting.” In the wake of the defense industries there arose a booming economy based on technology. Its roots stretched back to 1938, when David Packard and his new wife moved into a house in Palo Alto that had a shed where his friend Bill Hewlett was soon ensconced. The house had a garage—an appendage that would prove both useful and iconic in the valley—in which they tinkered around until they had their first product, an audio oscillator. By the 1950s, Hewlett-Packard was a fast-growing company making technical instruments. Fortunately there was a place nearby for entrepreneurs who had outgrown their garages. In a move that would help transform the area into the cradle of the tech revolution, Stanford University’s dean of engineering, Frederick Terman, created a seven-hundred-acre industrial park on university land for private companies that could commercialize the ideas of his students. Its first tenant was Varian Associates, where Clara Jobs worked. “Terman came up with this great idea that did more than anything to cause the tech industry to grow up here,” Jobs said. By the time Jobs was ten, HP had nine thousand employees and was the blue-chip company where every engineer seeking financial stability wanted to work. The most important technology for the region’s growth was, of course, the semiconductor. William Shockley, who had been one of the inventors of the transistor at Bell Labs in New Jersey, moved out to Mountain View and, in 1956, started a company to build transistors using silicon rather than the more expensive germanium that was then commonly used. But Shockley became increasingly erratic and abandoned his silicon transistor project, which led eight of his engineers—most notably Robert Noyce and Gordon Moore—to break away to form Fairchild Semiconductor. That company grew to twelve thousand employees, but it fragmented in 1968, when Noyce lost a power struggle to become CEO. He took Gordon Moore and founded a company that they called Integrated Electronics Corporation, which they soon smartly abbreviated to Intel. Their third employee was Andrew Grove, who later would grow the company by shifting its focus from memory chips to microprocessors. Within a few years there would be more than fifty companies in the area making semiconductors. The exponential growth of this industry was correlated with the phenomenon famously discovered by Moore, who in 1965 drew a graph of the speed of integrated circuits, based on the number of transistors that could be placed on a chip, and showed that it doubled about every two years, a trajectory that could be expected to continue. This was reaffirmed in 1971, when Intel was able to etch a complete central processing unit onto one chip, the Intel 4004, which was dubbed a “microprocessor.” Moore’s Law has held generally true to this day, and its reliable projection of performance to price allowed two generations of young entrepreneurs, including Steve Jobs and Bill Gates, to create cost projections for their forward-leaning products. The chip industry gave the region a new name when Don Hoefler, a columnist for the weekly trade paper Electronic News, began a series in January 1971 entitled “Silicon Valley USA.” The forty-mile Santa Clara Valley, which stretches from South San Francisco through Palo Alto to San Jose, has as its commercial backbone El Camino Real, the royal road that once connected California’s twenty-one mission churches and is now a bustling avenue that connects companies and startups accounting for a third of the venture capital investment in the United States each year. “Growing up, I got inspired by the history of the place,” Jobs said. “That made me want to be a part of it.” Like most kids, he became infused with the passions of the grown-ups around him. “Most of the dads in the neighborhood did really neat stuff, like photovoltaics and batteries and radar,” Jobs recalled. “I grew up in awe of that stuff and asking people about it.” The most important of these neighbors, Larry Lang, lived seven doors away. “He was my model of what an HP engineer was supposed to be: a big ham radio operator, hard-core electronics guy,” Jobs recalled. “He would bring me stuff to play with.” As we walked up to Lang’s old house, Jobs pointed to the driveway. “He took a carbon microphone and a battery and a speaker, and he put it on this driveway. He had me talk into the carbon mike and it amplified out of the speaker.” Jobs had been taught by his father that microphones always required an electronic amplifier. “So I raced home, and I told my dad that he was wrong.” “No, it needs an amplifier,” his father assured him. When Steve protested otherwise, his father said he was crazy. “It can’t work without an amplifier. There’s some trick.” “I kept saying no to my dad, telling him he had to see it, and finally he actually walked down with me and saw it. And he said, ‘Well I’ll be a bat out of hell.’” Jobs recalled the incident vividly because it was his first realization that his father did not know everything. Then a more disconcerting discovery began to dawn on him: He was smarter than his parents. He had always admired his father’s competence and savvy. “He was not an educated man, but I had always thought he was pretty damn smart. He didn’t read much, but he could do a lot. Almost everything mechanical, he could figure it out.” Yet the carbon microphone incident, Jobs said, began a jarring process of realizing that he was in fact more clever and quick than his parents. “It was a very big moment that’s burned into my mind. When I realized that I was smarter than my parents, I felt tremendous shame for having thought that. I will never forget that moment.” This discovery, he later told friends, along with the fact that he was adopted, made him feel apart—detached and separate—from both his family and the world. Another layer of awareness occurred soon after. Not only did he discover that he was brighter than his parents, but he discovered that they knew this. Paul and Clara Jobs were loving parents, and they were willing to adapt their lives to suit a son who was very smart—and also willful. They would go to great lengths to accommodate him. And soon Steve discovered this fact as well. “Both my parents got me. They felt a lot of responsibility once they sensed that I was special. They found ways to keep feeding me stuff and putting me in better schools. They were willing to defer to my needs.” So he grew up not only with a sense of having once been abandoned, but also with a sense that he was special. In his own mind, that was more important in the formation of his personality. School Even before Jobs started elementary school, his mother had taught him how to read. This, however, led to some problems once he got to school. “I was kind of bored for the first few years

作者:朗读君

来源:朗读君(ID:langdu120)

孩子的内心世界,永远都比你想象得要精彩;孩子,也比你想象的,更加爱你。

有句话说的好:孩子的世界,你永远都不懂。那是因为,孩子们的脑袋中,总会迸发出各种奇思妙想,让人又爱又恨。用当代小艺术家来形容这些孩子,再合适不过了。今天我们来鉴赏几篇“脑洞大开”的小学生作文,让我们跟着他们的步伐,重回童年,领略他们眼中的世界。

 01 

《没收》我相信许多孩子看完这首诗,一定都沉默了吧,因为真的有太多太多的孩子缺少父亲的疼爱了。正如流传爸妈朋友圈中,经久不息的金句所说:放下工作,我就养不起你;拿起工作,我就陪不了你。为了老婆、孩子和这个家庭,爸爸付出了所有陪伴的时间,在外面拼命工作,只是希望能多给爱人买一根口红、多给孩子买一本教辅书。如果说想要做些什么,来回报默默付出的爸爸,那么一定是现在好好读书。让他在满分的卷子签字、让他回家就看见贴满墙壁的奖状、让他知道自己有一个很棒的孩子。为所有为了家拼命赚钱的爸爸点赞。

 02 

《低调》哈哈!原来我们都很富有,只是我们没发现。不知道你们有没有发现,这个孩子的作文里,看似是对写实日常的夸大,实则却能看见他心里的星辰大海。不局限于眼前,把视野看向更广阔的世界和宇宙,这是从小“泡”在书的海洋里,才有的模样。胸藏文墨怀若谷,腹有诗书气自华。从小就大量阅读的孩子,看待事物的角度也会比别人更多样、也更全面。他们会结合丰富的课外知识,充分锻炼自己的独立思考的能力,无形之中,引导自己试着去理解这个世界,和世界之外的世界。最后,将易烊千玺在开学典礼上的一番话,送给所有的孩子:

我们眼中看到的,除了繁花盛景,还应该有世间冷暖;

我们应该拥有的,除了海纳百川的眼界胸怀,还有悲天悯人的创作灵魂。

 03 

《孤独》《孤独》这篇作文,短短100多个字,看完却让人鼻子一酸,残缺不堪的原生家庭的痛,跃然纸上。想要大声呵斥这对父母,因为生而不养,是对孩子最大的残忍。对于父母来说,婚姻是涉及终身的大事,无论往哪一步走,都该慎重与斟酌。尤其是对于已经有孩子的家庭来说,父母的每一个选择,都会对孩子的成长、甚至是一生造成影响。诚然,婚姻是否能走下去,最终决定权还是在夫妻二人。但无论是否分开,孩子总是那个最无辜的角色,他面临的不仅是家庭的支离破碎,更是爱与亲情的荡然无存。如果你还爱着这个满脸纯真的孩子,那就在分开后,给他更多的爱与安全感,让他走出“父母离婚”的悲痛,去拥抱崭新的人生吧。

 04 

《男人女人》看完后,真的不得不赞叹汉字的奥妙!但透过现象看本质,这首小诗真正想要表达的是:女性的独特魅力所在。正如伟大的文学家高尔基所说:没有太阳,花朵不会开放;没有爱,便没有幸福;没有妇女,也就没有爱;没有母亲,既不会有诗人,也不会有英雄。如果你家有女儿,那就努力将她养成一位“兜里有钱,心里有梦,枕边有书”的人:教会她永远把生命放在人生的第一顺位;教会她学会珍惜和爱护自己的身体;教会她不要为了一个男人而践踏自己的尊严;教会她做到经济独立和人格独立。

 05 

《眼睛》北宋诗人苏轼有一句千古绝句:横看成岭侧成峰,远近高低各不同。其中蕴含的道理是要用辩证的思维去思考及看待事物,既要有感性的温柔,亦要有理性的沉着。其实在养育孩子的过程中,这份感性的温柔,就是妈妈给孩子带去的柔软;而理性的沉着,就是爸爸在孩子面前的坚毅。曾经看过一句话,深以为然:父亲的格局,母亲的情绪,就是家庭最好的风水。刚柔并济的家庭下,才会养出能够“理性中带感性、感性中带理性”的孩子。温柔而又坚毅,才是一个优秀的孩子真正该有的模样。

 06 

《委屈》如果我是孩子的爸爸,都忍不住想要夸一句:儿子,爸没白疼你。所谓最顶级的父子亲情,莫过于如此了吧。在这其中,一定是少不了爸爸对孩子的关爱和处处维护,才能养出如此具有孝心的孩子。著名心理学家格尔迪说:父亲是一种独特的存在,对培养孩子有一种特别的力量。这份力量,是独立的力量、是敢于担当的力量、还是安全感的力量。如今的孩子,对爸爸说的话最多的就是“爸,我妈呢?”在引导孩子成长的过程中,妈妈的作用虽是不容小觑,但千万别忘了,爸爸更是孩子生命历程中不可或缺的一部分。或许爸爸有些不善言辞,也不会常把爱挂嘴边,但请相信,爸爸的爱,沉默而伟大、平凡却也深沉。

 07 

《挑妈妈》很多时候,在妈妈的眼中,孩子爱捣蛋、爱哭闹,根本就是上天派来整我的小恶魔。可在朱尔小朋友的眼里,孩子却是在天上游荡的小天使,安安静静地趴在云朵上,认认真真地挑选自己最喜欢的妈妈。这个妈妈有长长的头发,喜欢;那个妈妈特别爱笑,也喜欢。但我还是最喜欢你这个妈妈啦!因为我在你弯弯的笑眼中,看到了藏不住的爱。然后这些可爱的小天使,放弃了天上无数的珍宝,光着身子,像个一无所有的小乞丐,咿咿呀呀地降临到了你的身边。所有在你眼中像“恶魔”的孩子,正在用自己的方式,偷偷地爱着你呢!

 08 

《爷爷》用最朴素却又最真挚的语言,把对爷爷的思念和爱,表现得淋漓尽致。爷爷在的时候,他就是我最强大的靠山,雨水打不到我、狂风刮不到我,在他的庇护执行总能肆意奔跑。每次回家,看见这些老人们,弯着身子站在大门口,笑容里露出的假牙,就觉得,真的太幸福啦!那么就希望时光再慢些吧。我们的爷爷奶奶姥姥姥爷,他们头发花白得就会慢一些,他们的身姿岣嵝得也会再慢一些,这样我就能继续陪伴他们更多时间一些。

 09 

《秘密》这首诗,让我们体会到了一份温暖的、藏在“秘密”里的爱。就算妈妈骗我是“捡来的”,我也要要好好地守护妈妈,不让她受到伤害。人们常常歌颂母爱有多伟大,殊不知,孩子对父母的爱,才是真正的毫无条件,毫无保留。因为他们从怀胎十月起,身边就只有你一个人。听着你的心跳、摸着你的脉搏,以脐带为介,与你紧紧相连。▽看完这些“吊打”成年人的优秀作文,你们有何感想?是不是对小学生们刮目相看了呢?我们教育孩子,是万万不能用太多的条条框框束缚住他们的脑洞、他们的思维、甚至是他们的行为。不扼制孩子所有的奇思妙想,才是帮助他们开发智力的绝佳途径。孩子的内心世界,永远都比你想象得要精彩;孩子,也比你想象的,更加爱你…如果你也被这些孩子感动了,点个“在看”,“分享”给更多家长。

*作者:朗读君,来源:朗读君(ID:langdu120),每日分享小学语文、数学、英语等各科学习资料和家长教育心。转载请联系微信号(zsy_5387)


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