My grandfather was a teacher. He was the head teacher of a school for boys between the ages of thirteen and eighteen. I know that he was a kind and gentle(温柔的)man at heart, because when I was young, he gave me presents, and sat me on his knees(膝盖), and told me stories. But I believe the boys at his school were afraid of him.

    At school, when he walked into a room full of noisy (少闹的)boys, there was silence(安静)at once. When he looked at a boy with a certain look in his eyes, that boy went red in the face, and looked down at his shoes. If a boy brought him poor, careless work, the work that was not the best that boy could do, my grandfather picked up the boy's work and threw it across the room, shouting,” Do it all again, and bring it back first thing in the morning!” If the boy was late, or if he forgot to bring the work, he had to do it again, and again, and yet again. My grandfather never forgot. He was a very different man at school, from the man I saw day by day in his own home.