I grew up in a happy family. Both of my parents are teachers. So, they better than any other parents about how to look after and guide their child. They play different roles i
n different stages of my life. Where there is a tough one, there will always be a kind one. In my pre-school years my father mostly played the kind one. He bought me Barbies, skirts, took me to many places. He did everything to make me happy. Together we had a lot of fun. While I was having fun with my father, my mother was just like an inspector---standing in a distance, watching, silently. She even taught me lessons sometimes with a stern voice. It scared me. You can image how I loved my mother that time. Things had changed since I became a primary scholar--My mother became my caregiver. She encouraged me with warm words, spent more time with me, taught things I don’t know. She talked with me like a close friend, actually she is a friend. My mother has changed into a kind mother. And I really enjoyed this change. My high school life began with my messed up terminal examination. I knew I was dead as soon as I got my
paper. I would never forget that terrible night. My mother and my father were both shocked by my paper (It was almost painted red by the error mark). My father was so angry that he torn the paper into little pieces and commanded me to get down on my knees. My mother just sat aside and cried in a low voice. If I have known how disappointed I made them feel, I swear I will never do that. Since then, my father checked my homework everyday, sent me to many opportunity classes and bought me piles of books. When I was tired or fell asleep on the desk, mother often brought me a cup of tea or some sugars to wake me up. I can’t came over the torturing high school life without their kindness and rigorousness. Now I’m an adult. I become mentally independent from my parents and begin to fight for my freedom. My mother becomes a block of my revolution. She always tells me do this, do that, like thousands of bees hovering over my head. My father has to persuade us to forgive each other and make peace with each other. But thanks to my father’s effort I can understand my mother and her kindness.
I admit I’m not a successful student but I cannot deny that my mother and father really did a good job in educating me.