看上去,杜老师也就30来岁,那张严肃的长方形脸上戴着一副黑宽边眼镜,两只不大的眼睛在镜片后边闪着亮光;两个嘴角总是紧紧闭着,平时很不爱说话。在我的记忆里,好像他只有那么一身半新不旧的蓝衣服,袖子也总爱往上挽一截。每当下课的时候,他就把书本往胳肢窝下一夹,把用剩下的半截粉笔往口袋里一装,低着头,像找来时的脚印似的,慢慢地,一步步向着自己的办公室走去。可是,在课堂上,他像变成了另一个人。他讲起课来滔滔不绝,朗读起课文来声音异常洪亮,有时还会激动得脸上放出红光,一步跨到讲台前,挥舞着手臂……同学们的注意力都被他吸引住了,睁大眼睛看着他。Look, Mr. Du is thirty years old, the solemn face wears a pair of black rectangle broad-brimmed glasses, two small eyes glowed behind the lens; Two corners of the mouth is always tightly closed, usually very quiet. In my memory as if he is no longer new blue clothes, sleeves are always up holding a piece. When class was over, he put the book to the armpit clip next, with the rest of the half piece of chalk to pocket a pack, low head, like come looking for footprints, slowly, step by step towards his office. But, in the classroom, he became another man. He speak practise divination to gush, read the text to abnormal voice loud, sometimes too agitated face emit red light, step across to the front of the stage, waving arms... Students' attention was attracted by him, looked at him with eyes wide open.
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