Writing is my first teacher

Every person in life had the first tooth, the first word, the first book. Together with my mother, I took the first steps. She led me by the hand in the first class, where the teacher took me further along the roads of knowledge. That’s what I want to tell about him.

First teacher! He taught me to read, write and count, be friends, love the Motherland, nature, respect the elders. I remember how he rejoiced at my success, worried and worried about me, and sometimes angry. It seemed to me that he was especially strict with me, picky and demanding. And I did not understand why. I remember the first lesson, the first desk, after which I met my first friend, the first textbooks, the first award and the first two. So much of the first is connected with the first teacher!

My first teacher was always kind and strict, friendly and fair. With what impatience we waited in the morning, that we would make new discoveries with him. Nobody guessed: for what we would have got into the “secret” in the morning, the teacher sat at the table all evening, looking for interesting material for tomorrow’s lesson.

At the time when we went to bed, he was still checking our notebooks, inventing, composing, and sometimes went to bed in the morning. He wanted us to go to school with pleasure and not miss our lessons. Giving himself to other children, unfortunately, left little time for the family. The teacher wants students to understand him, because the work of any teacher is aimed at ensuring that the children have a happy future. I am grateful to my first teacher for my first class, for everything he taught me. Thank you, Olga Alexandrovna! Thank you, Mom!

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Writing is my first teacher