What's wrong with me, a school principal, listening to students' suggestions?

The next morning at 9:30, in the classroom of Class 3, Grade 1.

Zhang Yang, Shouhou, Liu Meng, and Zhao Yang sat in the first row, their backs ramrod straight.

Yesterday, Ma Desheng informed them that they would be serving as judges for an old teacher, and the four of them muttered to themselves, "Who's just here to slack off this time?"

Then Bi Shangao walked in.

There were no self-introductions, no small talk or pleasantries.

The old man stood on the podium, picked up the chalk, and wrote a math problem on the blackboard.

"Who would want to curse after seeing this question?"

Zhang Yang blinked. Why was this opening speech different from the other teachers'?

The blackboard had a quadratic function application problem written on it, the kind that makes your head spin just looking at it.

Zhang Yang glanced at it and a conditioned reflex of resistance arose in his mind.

"Me," the skinny monkey honestly raised his hand.

"Okay, why do you want to curse?" Bi Shangao turned around.

"Because I can't understand it. I recognize the individual characters, but I can't recognize them when they're put together."

"Then let me put it another way."

Bi Shangao erased all the technical terms in the question and rewrote it in plain language.

"There's a boss who runs a milk tea shop. With such high costs and such high prices, he can still sell so many cups a day."

"Ask him how to price the product to maximize his profit?"

The skinny monkey's eyes lit up: "Isn't this just about figuring out the most profitable pricing strategy?"

"Yeah, didn't you say you couldn't understand it just now?"

"That's different! That way of writing just now sounded like chanting..."

Bi Shangao laughed and drew a line between pricing and profit with chalk: "The vertex of the quadratic function is the ceiling of your profit."

"Finding this peak means finding the optimal pricing."

He spoke slowly, waiting for the students' reactions at every step.

Intentionally leaving gaps allows people with slower thinking to keep up.

Zhang Yang unconsciously started thinking about it.

strangeness.

It's clearly a quadratic function, and he used to get sleepy just looking at those four words, but now... it makes sense?

Fifteen minutes later, Bi Shangao put down the chalk and dusted off his hands.

"Change the language."

He wrote a classical Chinese phrase directly on the blackboard, from the "Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng".

"The sunset glows and the lone wild goose flies together; the autumn waters blend seamlessly with the vast sky."

"Can anyone tell me why this sentence is considered well-written?"

Liu Meng scratched his head: "Because...the textbook says it's good?"

"The textbook says farts smell good, do you believe it?"

The four students burst out laughing at the same time.

Bi Shangao picked up the chalk and drew a simple sketch on the blackboard...

A horizontal line represents the lake surface, with a few strokes above it depicting the sunset and birds in flight.

"Close your eyes and imagine it."

"In the evening, the sun was about to set, and the sky was orange-red, as was the surface of the lake."

"A bird flew by, and its shadow was reflected in the water, making it impossible to distinguish between the sky and the water."

Zhang Yang closed his eyes, and a picture actually appeared.

"The highest level of descriptive writing is not piling up fancy words, but making the reader's mind automatically play a movie."

Bi Shangao tapped the blackboard and spread his arms wide.

"The same applies to your essays. Don't try to use fancy words; be sincere and truthful."

Fifteen minutes passed again.

The last fifteen minutes will be in English.

Bi Shangao actually spoke in English, but his English had a strange sense of warmth, and his speaking speed was just within a range that people could understand.

He was talking about relative clauses.

Instead of having students memorize formulas, the teacher used Zhang Yang as an example to create sentences on the spot.

Zhang Yang was used as a living example for ten minutes, and his face turned red, but strangely enough, he remembered it.

Forty-five minutes.

Not a penny more, not a penny less.

When Bi Shangao put down the chalk, the classroom fell silent.

Splash!

Then Zhang Yang led the applause, truly impressed.

……

Outside the back door.

Lin Yucai and Su Qingyan stood side by side and watched from beginning to end.

"Look at this veteran actor... veteran educator." Lin Yucai hesitated for a long time before changing his words, "He can switch between three subjects with ease, and he can keep these restless students listening attentively to each one."

"Although Teacher Bi's voice is a little soft, it makes people open their ears to listen."

Su Qingyan didn't speak, but her eyes were a little red.

She recalled the first time she attended Professor Bi's lecture when she was in college; not a single one of the three hundred people in the audience was distracted.

More than ten years have passed, and the old man hasn't changed at all.

"Let's go." Lin Yucai clapped his hands, pushed open the back door, and walked into the classroom.

Bi Shangao was tidying up the chalk boxes when he saw Lin Yucai come in. He smiled like a primary school student waiting to be praised.

"How was it? What score would the students give me?"

Lin Yucai didn't answer him, but turned to Zhang Yang and asked, "What do you think?"

"Teacher, will you come again tomorrow?"

Zhang Yang stood up and looked at Bi Shangao with unusual seriousness.

"Principal Lin, where do we sign the contract?"

Bi Shangao was stunned for a moment, then burst into laughter, his eyes narrowing into slits.

"Come with me." Lin Yucai gestured for him to come.

The two left the classroom one after the other, with Su Qingyan following behind, unable to suppress the smile on her lips.

Only four students remained in the classroom.

Zhang Yang leaned back in his chair, his mind still replaying the quadratic function problem he had just solved.

It's strange, things that used to give me a headache, I can now figure out the solution with my eyes closed.

How did that old man manage to do that?

"Brother Yang!"

Skinny Monkey's sudden shout snapped him back to reality.

"Damn it! What's your name?"

Zhang Yang was startled, and the train of thought he had just sorted out was completely disrupted.

"I forgot my uncle's name, but look at this!"

The skinny monkey ignored his anger, poking at the inside page of the math textbook with his finger, his face looking like he'd seen a ghost.

Zhang Yang looked down.

The list of textbook writing team members, on the second line, has three words written in black and white: Bi Shan Gao.

"..."

Zhang Yang's mind went blank for a moment.

"The people who compiled the textbooks, are they coming to give us lectures themselves?"

Liu Meng leaned closer, his voice trembling.

"Holy crap!" Zhao Yang's mouth was wide open, big enough to fit an egg.

The four people looked at each other, and no one spoke for a long time.

Skinny Monkey was the first to realize what was happening, slapping his thigh: "No wonder he explained the problems so smoothly, he was the one who set the problems!"

Zhang Yang took a while to calm down before closing his textbook.

He suddenly felt that his life was about to reach its peak.

As long as you study hard, getting into a top university won't be a problem, and you can find a good job in the future...

I dare not even think about it!

……

The days that followed flew by.

The interviews lasted from mid-August until the end of the month.

Ma Desheng and Zhang Yang, along with several other students, took turns serving as judges. More than sixty teachers were involved, and forty-two students were ultimately selected.

Each subject—mathematics, physics, chemistry, biology, history, politics, geography, and English—has at least three main teachers.

With the addition of key teachers such as Lao Zhao, Sister Qian, and Lao Wu, who were revitalized within the school, the teaching staff of No. 13 Middle School has undergone a complete transformation.

At the canteen, Zhou Dahai volunteered to expand the staff.

With over 500 new students and the original students, four people simply couldn't handle the workload.

Without saying a word, Lin Yucai approved the budget and told him to recruit people himself.

Zhou Dahai eventually recruited eight kitchen helpers, all of whom were his former subordinates from the hotel, and all of them were decent cooks.

The library was officially completed on August 25th.

The three-story panoramic glass curtain wall is bright and clear in the sunlight, and the light gray marble floor inside is so polished that it reflects your image.

A row of custom-made white oak bookshelves stood inside, and the first batch of more than a thousand books had all been put on the shelves.

The open reading area on the second floor has sixty ergonomic chairs, while the third floor has separate study rooms and electronic reading rooms.

Xu Jianfeng stood downstairs with his workers, looking up at his work, his eyes red-rimmed.

The research building is progressing a little slower, but is expected to be completed in mid-September, which will not affect the start of the semester.

Old Zhao helped oversee the renovation of the dormitories and classrooms for most of the summer vacation, and Lin Yucai took some time to go and inspect it.

The classroom walls have been repainted, all the windows have been replaced with soundproof double-glazed windows, and all the desks and chairs are new.

Each classroom has a new media screen and two air conditioners, one in the front and one in the back.

The dormitory has been equipped with a private bathroom and air conditioning, and the water heater is available 24 hours a day.

"Principal Lin, all standards have been met."

Old Zhao, wearing a safety helmet, stood at the entrance of the dormitory building, clutching a small notebook filled with various acceptance data.

"Don't worry, I keep an eye on these buildings every day. The workers won't be able to cut corners if they try to do it.

Lin Yucai patted him on the shoulder without saying anything.

Everything is ready.

In September, more than 500 new students will be entering No. 13 Middle School.

New teaching buildings, new dormitories, a new library, a brand-new faculty team...

This school, which was struggling to survive just six months ago, has completely changed its structure.

On the evening of August 28th, Lin Yucai was sitting in his office flipping through the school opening schedule when Su Qingyan walked in with two cups of coffee.

"Has the military training plan been finalized?"

She placed the coffee on the corner of the table and leaned against the windowsill.

Lin Yucai stopped flipping through the schedule.

The two stared at each other for three seconds.

"You forgot too?"