My seventh grade English teacher was named Mr. Forest. He had dark hair and a bushy(浓密的) beard. All of the student liked him because he picked out really good stories for us(read) in class. Well, we all liked him until he (return) our graded homework.
When he gave back my paper, it looked like it(cover) in blood. He (check) everything and made comments with a red pen .There were so many marks and comments that you couldn't even tell what I had written. Mr. Forest wanted me(fix) everything.
At that time, I was sure Mr. Forest didn't understand anything about being in the seventh grade. Why was he was strict with us? It seemed unfair! When I got older, though, I realized I was getting fewer and fewer of those red marks in my homework. By the time I got to high school, I was already a pretty good writer.
Now I am a teacher and I put red marks of my own on students" papers. I don't understand their problems. But I do it so that my students can be the best.
(learn)is like building a house. If you don't have strong bricks on the bottom, the home(stand). If Mr. Forest had not been so strict with me with his red pen, I wouldn't be who I am today.
