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MY TEACHER OF MORALITY
If I was asked to write about the greatest person in the universe, I would write about my father. Perhaps mother's love is much easier to feel than love from father. Because every child is born after a tremendous process of his mother's burdening the labor pain, then carefully taken care of from every precious meal and nap. Mother's affection is typically effusive as flows of a waterfall, while, father's is as solidly strong as a thousand-year rock. Parents are such the only ones who will eternally love us unconditionally and indescribably for who we truly are that we can never pay off their hard work and understand all the struggles they've been through.
I still remember that afternoon, when my teacher in the math team complimented me on my diligence for working on a hard problem and spontaneously figuring another faster way to solve it. After class, I nervously stood in front of the school's gate waiting for dad's pick-up, thinking when he came, I would cheer him up by telling him how well I did in class today. An hour passed by, all my friends got picked up, but me. I was anxiously walking around; "Dad probably forgot" I sat down angrily with tears running down my cheeks. I was so mad at him. My anger and immaturity won over me; I decided to walk home on my own, a three-mile distance.
I starved myself that night even though my mom tried her best to console me. "You shouldn't have forgotten to pick her up", I overheard their conversation. "I know our child is a sedulous and well-mannered girl, but she's so fragile and immature. In fact, I didn't forget her pick-up at all. I actually came to her school, however, I just quietly observed her from a far view because I wanted to see how she would handle it. She needs to be challenged in real life, not always in math problems". That's how my dad has taught me lessons about being a legitimate person. Sitting behind him on his scooter-bike, he would normally say: "Don't just sit there stiffly, you should lean on the opposite direction of the vehicle, it'll be easier for me to ride". Thanks to so, whenever sitting on the boat flowing smoothly pertaining to the river with my friends reminds me of dad's saddle. Knowing how to balance the boat is just like trying to adapt to all the ridges, grooves and bumps in life.
On dad's same saddle, I also learned from him about Humanity. I was 14 when mom was critically sick; she was thought to be at the border between life and death. Therefore, dad often took me with him to get some food. One day, we heard somebody cried loudly "Robbers!"; "Hold on to me", dad hurriedly caught up with the burglar. He was actually just a young boy in his teens. The robber was made to give the purse back and apologize the old lady, my dad tried to make way into the crowd surrounding the boy, whose idea was to give him to the police: "The kid's already felt remorseful".
At a food stall, the boy was surprised with my dad's asking him what he wanted to eat. "Why did you give him food, but not cash?" I whispered while eating. Dad just shook his head and gave me a smile. On the way home, I kept wondering about what he did. Turning his head aside, "Money has turned that little boy into a robber, can't you tell?" he leisurely said.
Two years ago, on an important day of my life - the big test to determine which high school I would be going to, I woke up early and was about to carry out my bicycle. I didn't expect dad to wait for me at the door, on his rusty scooter-bike. "Put it back, I'll take you today. Why didn't you tell me so?" he softly said. I just kept silent having my head down because I wanted to go by myself like my friends. After the examination, I left the room and walked with Phuong, a school friend to the gate. From the far, I could see my dad's slender figure merrily but worriedly waving at me. Phuong winked at me:
"You must be the happiest kid having a dad like that. He must be counting every minute of your test!" A couple months later, when I got the results of the test, Phuong excitedly asked me: "Hey, who is the first person you will share your joy to?" she continued, "I don't even have dad to share to anymore".
It was very late that night, I remember, Dad's room's light was still on, he was reading a book as usual. I came closer to him and respectively handed him a paper of my school results. He meticulously studied it, folded it and gently squeezed my little hand with his roughly hefty hand; his other hand placed the book onto my palm. I tightly gripped the book and uttered its title: "How to Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie".
MY TEACHER OF MORALITY
If I was asked to write about the greatest person in the universe, I would write about my father. Perhaps mother's love is much easier to feel than love from father. Because every child is born after a tremendous process of his mother's burdening the labor pain, then carefully taken care of from every precious meal and nap. Mother's affection is typically effusive as flows of a waterfall, while, father's is as solidly strong as a thousand-year rock. Parents are such the only ones who will eternally love us unconditionally and indescribably for who we truly are that we can never pay off their hard work and understand all the struggles they've been through.
I still remember that afternoon, when my teacher in the math team complimented me on my diligence for working on a hard problem and spontaneously figuring another faster way to solve it. After class, I nervously stood in front of the school's gate waiting for dad's pick-up, thinking when he came, I would cheer him up by telling him how well I did in class today. An hour passed by, all my friends got picked up, but me. I was anxiously walking around; "Dad probably forgot" I sat down angrily with tears running down my cheeks. I was so mad at him. My anger and immaturity won over me; I decided to walk home on my own, a three-mile distance.
I starved myself that night even though my mom tried her best to console me. "You shouldn't have forgotten to pick her up", I overheard their conversation. "I know our child is a sedulous and well-mannered girl, but she's so fragile and immature. In fact, I didn't forget her pick-up at all. I actually came to her school, however, I just quietly observed her from a far view because I wanted to see how she would handle it. She needs to be challenged in real life, not always in math problems". That's how my dad has taught me lessons about being a legitimate person. Sitting behind him on his scooter-bike, he would normally say: "Don't just sit there stiffly, you should lean on the opposite direction of the vehicle, it'll be easier for me to ride". Thanks to so, whenever sitting on the boat flowing smoothly pertaining to the river with my friends reminds me of dad's saddle. Knowing how to balance the boat is just like trying to adapt to all the ridges, grooves and bumps in life.
On dad's same saddle, I also learned from him about Humanity. I was 14 when mom was critically sick; she was thought to be at the border between life and death. Therefore, dad often took me with him to get some food. One day, we heard somebody cried loudly "Robbers!"; "Hold on to me", dad hurriedly caught up with the burglar. He was actually just a young boy in his teens. The robber was made to give the purse back and apologize the old lady, my dad tried to make way into the crowd surrounding the boy, whose idea was to give him to the police: "The kid's already felt remorseful".
At a food stall, the boy was surprised with my dad's asking him what he wanted to eat. "Why did you give him food, but not cash?" I whispered while eating. Dad just shook his head and gave me a smile. On the way home, I kept wondering about what he did. Turning his head aside, "Money has turned that little boy into a robber, can't you tell?" he leisurely said.
Two years ago, on an important day of my life - the big test to determine which high school I would be going to, I woke up early and was about to carry out my bicycle. I didn't expect dad to wait for me at the door, on his rusty scooter-bike. "Put it back, I'll take you today. Why didn't you tell me so?" he softly said. I just kept silent having my head down because I wanted to go by myself like my friends. After the examination, I left the room and walked with Phuong, a school friend to the gate. From the far, I could see my dad's slender figure merrily but worriedly waving at me. Phuong winked at me:
"You must be the happiest kid having a dad like that. He must be counting every minute of your test!" A couple months later, when I got the results of the test, Phuong excitedly asked me: "Hey, who is the first person you will share your joy to?" she continued, "I don't even have dad to share to anymore".
It was very late that night, I remember, Dad's room's light was still on, he was reading a book as usual. I came closer to him and respectively handed him a paper of my school results. He meticulously studied it, folded it and gently squeezed my little hand with his roughly hefty hand; his other hand placed the book onto my palm. I tightly gripped the book and uttered its title: "How to Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie".
