Speech in junior high school politics class 1 "The water flies like a boat" With the pace of time, this short autumn is also the time for autumn harvest.
In late winter and early spring, I found an opportunity to establish a literary society in your kind headmaster. I am very happy. Now that the ancient clock has finished singing this short period of time, we will also enter the hall of senior two. At the same time, I think it is time to explain to you whether Lengning was founded successfully or not.
Although it is not as difficult as creating a club, I will never stop as long as the minute hand is still turning.
I am a literature lover and a literature chaser. My ideal is to be a poet and a writer. On this long and bumpy road, based on my literary accomplishment, I shouted long live the great banner. It was with these spikes that touched my heart and defended my forehead that I defeated the devil in my heart and mistakenly entered the beautiful county No.4 Middle School.
Three years of wandering in junior high school made me a loser in the senior high school entrance examination, and my future was worrying. Facing the wolf before and the tiger behind, I feel the hopelessness of my career, the crisis of my life and the danger of my life. My mind is in a daze, and what I see is not a glimmer of hope, but the abyss at my feet. I feel that death is only one toe away from me, not to mention that even if my toe moves, even if a ruthless tear falls from my scarred stump, I will step into the gate of hell. A faint ray of oblique light stung my eyes, but let me see the morning light tomorrow morning. That's it. I know that's it. No one wants to bring me the afterglow of the sunset except it. Although it is weak, it is like a radiant light to me, which is enough to save my dying life. He is a milestone in my life-literature, my parents are my motivation, my teacher is my successful accompaniment, but it is a continuation of my life.
It's literature that made my prodigal son go back to the right path forever. It's literature that made me put away my cowardice and let go of the courage to fight against the white clouds. It's literature that made me put away my cowardice and turn it into a butterfly. It's literature that taught me to laugh and never give up on challenges. It's literature that let me know that there is nothing impossible in the world, depending on whether you do it from the heart.
Literature has cultivated my mind, purified my soul and changed my life. However, I can't bear to see these walking dead students around me, still obsessed with the betrayal of youth, walking on the misty road, unable to find the way forward; I want to use literature to purify them and make them feel that their youth is fading when they are not paying attention, but when they notice, their youth has already left. Because being young is not a bad thing to hide. I want to say to them more: "When you finally ignore it, friends who have fallen behind you!"! It's not petals, it's your parents' withered heart. As the ancients said, flowers will come again, and people will never be young again. "This is not just a word, but a real axiom. And we ourselves are a vivid example. We are all looking forward to grasping the reins of time and returning to that golden childhood, but we can only look at the ocean and sigh.
Time is advancing. The clock can't be reversed.
There is no wooden bridge that I can't cross. Whether I succeed or not, I will not give up. At least I'm trying and persisting. Perhaps the efforts in life at this time have not brought us the goal we are pursuing; But when we look back and look around the traces of the past, you will find that we have succeeded at that time, but we are too obsessed with the present and forget to look back.
Time flies, time still passes, and my footsteps never give up the journey.
Speech 2 of junior middle school politics class: the sun never sets on the grassland, stunning the whole sky; Life is a painful and happy journey, short and beautiful; Love is a love-hate long-distance running, with no end. -Inscription.
Transparent white paper, exquisite handwriting. People who write stories bow their heads and frown, mourn the past, write touching love songs, and warm them in their soft hearts. Green silk and bamboo, Yuan Ye in Tibet in full bloom in Ge Sang, and colorful prayer flags fluttering in the wind on the grassland. The storyteller weaves the love between them tightly with gripping words, hums the early morning pastoral with melodious and stirring melody, rosemary permeates the birch forest, and the teenagers herding sheep in the sunset are on their way home. The sheep in the circle under the cool breeze and bright moon have amber eyes, as clear as the lake in Qinghai.
Night fell quietly and a bonfire was lit. Shy teenagers are holding hands and dancing around the bonfire in white hada. The jumping fire lit up the old face curled up in the dark. The old man on the grassland, touching the beard like the dust in the Buddha's hand, pulled the sunset on the grassland with a horseshoe harp.
The storyteller painted this warm picture as a bonfire with an indelible brush; A meteor cuts through the night sky, the sun and the moon rise and fall on the grassland, the years precipitate on the grassland, and the soul rises and rises on the grassland. The storyteller wrote a grassland love song, full of stories; People who write stories have beautiful pictures; The written words are very warm.
People who write stories will remember those words in the track of time; When the years pass, we meet the past by chance, and we can still hum the melody of youth.
A rising sun broke all the darkness before dawn, and all love will usher in the first bright sunshine.
Love is like the wind, give me a piece of white clouds, and I will give you the whole blue sky; Give me a piece of green grass and I'll give you a piece of forest; Give me a smile and I will give you back the whole world.
In my dream, flowers bloom and fall. I am a charming elf who travels around and sings strange and familiar old songs. I stopped on the stone bridge of the night bridge and lay on the uneven and cold gravel road, which stung and awakened me lost in my dream. I am a shadow wandering in the sea of people, just to chase your unchanging face; I am a bird who never tires of throwing stones into the sea, just to fill the happiness of the sea.
I am a white cloud floating in the wind, and you are a rosy cloud on the horizon, dyeing for me.
Sunflowers scattered by you, stranded in the old days, fell into my heart and floated on earth; You leave forever and wander far away. You can't see the sadness in my eyes. Sunflowers scattered by mistake fall into earthly dreams; You are the sand you can't hold in your hand, and I am the hourglass in your memory; You and I are horizons that cannot overlap. We are separated by a glass window and can only stay away from each other.
Behind a tear, there is a hatred of looking back on the past alone; A lonely cloud turns into rain, and there is a kind of helplessness in the rain, for all his glory and people near dusk. People always have to experience the pain of diaosi to gain an understanding of life; Even if, sometimes crying, sometimes lonely, sometimes decadent, sometimes desperate, you will lose something precious, but it is still worth it, because you are willing to give up.
Some pain is worth it, because I know; Some tears are worth it, because they are willing to give up; Some people deserve it because they love it.
People who write stories write words, record the past, share feelings, warm love, touch time and write kindness.
Speech 3 in junior middle school politics class When the breeze blows over your face, the shackles of entering a higher school firmly bind you in chains and make you unable to breathe. There are countless creatures playing in the blue sky, but I can only hold a single textbook and instill consistent topics. I am eager for freedom, and I am eager to shout out my heart among trees and plants: I need freedom and happiness!
Every weekend, I go home, take out my homework, recite materials and make up lessons in the afternoon. The weekend passed day by day. Some students' QQ signatures show that they are tired of learning. Before going to school, grandma would laugh and say, I'm locked in a cage again and I'll be tamed. Even sometimes I think school is a good place.
We have lived in dire straits since childhood: when we were in kindergarten, our parents told us to bring little red flowers; 1-3 grade, parents told them to get 100; In grades 4-6, our parents told us to enter key schools ... I don't know what inhuman torture we will face when we get to middle school.
When I was a child, my parents liked it very much, so I often heard voices like "Why not learn from others". Oh, I've heard too much. It's really "reverberation"!
If the goldfish's memory is really only seven seconds, then it is free. Imagine you can fly with Dapeng's wings. Is this the freedom you want?
The freedom I want is not illusory or nonexistent. I just want to live a carefree life, as long as my homework doesn't pile up into mountains, then I'm glad. Open the nearest dictionary, the homework lines are full, and then watch and play, really can't say it.
The teacher will praise us for putting the game aside and doing our homework, and will praise us for finishing the classroom tasks on time. But this is not what we really want. A poet once wrote, "At least we can hear the children's free laughter." I think this is almost extinct in school, except for the carefree lower grades, I'm afraid there are only the rustling of books and the harsh "zi zi" sound of pens scratching on exercise books ...
The cloud is elegant because it is free. A few faint clouds in the blue sky, spring and scenery, this is the artistic conception; There are several crimson tassels on the edge of the sunset, and the sunset is as beautiful as blood; In the night, there are some soft tulle, and the moonlight is hazy. This is a realm. Freedom endows the cloud with elegance, and the elegance of the cloud makes it more free.
I really long for freedom. I understand my parents' dream of finding a girl to be a phoenix, but they should give us a little freedom, let go of our hands, let us struggle and make our own efforts. Only by truly letting go can children grow up.
In the morning, open your eyes and ears, and listen to the birds singing freely in the sky; At noon, turn on the TV, open your eyes and enjoy the fish dancing freely in the ocean; At night, stand by your window, relax your mood and look up at the stars shining freely in the universe. Freedom, like water, can flow at will, and freedom, like wind, can float at will.
"I want to fly higher, fly higher ..."
We are young, we need to grow freely, and we need to experience the happiness of freedom, instead of "swimming" in the ocean of homework and pressure.
We are young, and we need freedom. ...