During my school years, I have many happy and happy memories under my beloved school. But the memory that I will never forget is the memories from grade 1, when I practiced writing and the teacher took my hand and wrote each stroke of heart.

At age 6, I enter first grade with all my eagerness. She learns to read very fast, only listens to the teacher once, she can read along the wall. But writing with me is an arduous journey. I am left-handed, and since childhood, my mother taught me to hold a pen with my right hand. But whenever no one looks, you change hands. My first teacher is Ngoc. True to the name, she is beautiful and radiant, affectionate, gentle. She knew she was left-handed, so she often went to the table to watch me write. At the beginning of the second semester, we practice writing small letters and writing longer spelling articles. My letters are doodles. During the spelling time that day, she copied round notes on the board, which we copied into our notebooks. Seeing that she didn't notice, I changed my hand to write.

At the end of the lesson, Ms. Ngoc returned the spelling notebook to us. She began to comment. Suddenly, she mentioned to her: "Friend Gia Bao has written progress today. However, I think you are forgetting one thing." I looked down in panic. In her slender long dress, she walked down to my desk and continued: "Remember the class when you told me to write, how do we handle pens?" My class repeated what she said. She said, "Still, Gia Bao's friend still forgot. She criticized Gia Bao in today's class." Then she looked straight at me and said: "I hope Gia Bao will remember what she said." Some of you laugh disparagingly. Upon hearing that, my face was hot, tears in my eyes and my hands were wrinkling the pages I wrote. "I see today your letters are circular, all at the right distance. I write much more beautiful than my friends." - She said softly. The class silent. She was praised by her, so she relieved the anger of a vain son.

Since then, I persevered in writing with my right hand. In grade 2, I wrote extremely clean lines. Even now, I can no longer study you, but the interesting lessons or the kind words of your kindness are still in my mind.