Third grade composition

In ordinary daily life, everyone has written a composition, and you must be familiar with all kinds of compositions. Writing a composition is an important means to cultivate people's observation, association, imagination, thinking and memory. How to write a good composition? The following are eight junior high school compositions I have compiled for you, for reference only. Let's have a look.

The third grade composition 1 is alive. If it is a blink of an eye, it will happen suddenly. In a blink of an eye, I came to the classroom of grade three, and a burst of ignorance came to my mind. I can't say what it is.

At first, the children of Grade One flocked to the square. At the beginning, the girls in Grade Two were laughing and laughing in the school corridor, and the boys in Grade Two were galloping happily on the playground. And I, a junior three student, sitting on the isolated third floor, buried in piles of textbooks, can only feel bitter, jealous, envious and sad! ! !

On the third day, I left home with the stars and went home with the moon every day. I am reluctant to part with the dream god every night, and every cup of coffee has the same feeling-bitterness! I just want to say, "I really want to go back to my childhood!" " "

On the third day, I can only say goodbye to TV, computer and Taoist. On the third day, I can only play one game of basketball and badminton; It's the third grade, and everything has nothing to do with me except papers and books. Dull! I am speechless. There are endless homework and no activity classes every day. Recently, the school sent two security guards to lock the school gate all day, and they had to ask for leave to go out. I'm bored to death! It's like being locked in a "prison" and losing your freedom.

It's the third grade, and the exams every three to five give me a headache. It can be said that "three quizzes a day, one big exam every three days", which is really a magic weapon for teachers. Points, points and points are the lifeblood of students. " "There will be" allusions "! Before the exam, I worked hard and huddled with the "difficult friends": during the exam, there was nothing but the rustling when writing; After the exam, my compatriots complained heavily: "I'm finished!" """I failed in the exam again!" "Our life is over!" "Oh, God, help me!" Just because we are in grade three, this is the characteristic of our life in grade three.

I am surrounded by functions every day, ABC, even number, series-parallel connection, atoms and molecules, defeated by "√", "×",-1 "and" 3 ". Although it is a bit miserable, it is also making progress unconsciously. In fact, life in grade three is positive and interesting; Intense study and fierce competition are good opportunities for me to exercise. I want to say to myself: No matter how hard and tired I am, I will not shrink back, because after the storm, I will be greeted by a rainbow.

Open the skylight and look at the starry sky. There are several stars in the dark sky. They are so shiny and charming. It suddenly dawned on me: isn't that dark sky what life looks like in grade three, and aren't those shining stars the inner beauty of life? My heart is full of ideals. No matter what the future holds, I will never give up my struggle. The world will make me wander.

When the flowers bloom, the leaves no longer fall; When the wind no longer brings chill, I will open my arms, fly my ideals, accumulate bits and pieces of the third grade, and say to people all over the world, "My future is not a dream!" " "

After school, I suddenly remembered the primary school teacher I hadn't visited for a long time. So I made an appointment with several classmates and went together.

Stepping into the school gate and breathing the familiar air, the scene in front of us is so familiar: a human monument, a fish pond, several teaching buildings ... The scenes of memory and reality gradually overlap in front of us, making people unable to tell the difference between reality and reality.

Walking on campus, everything is as beautiful as ever. On several big trees near the playground, there are birds singing softly, as if singing the joy of our return; The leaves on the tree rang like a symphony; The cheers of several athletes on the football field after winning the victory can't help but remind us that we were the same in those days.

Looking up, the sky is still so blue and the clouds are still so soft, but those people are gone ... at that time, I began to miss us. That immature self has done a lot of stupid things, and now it is irreparable to think of it.

I still remember that day in physical education class, because we were late for class, we were sent to the playground by the teacher. After running, we were sweating like cows who had just plowed the fields, panting, and hiding some strength to secretly complain: Why is the teacher so unkind? Why can't you run faster before class? Now that I think about it, I can't help laughing.

I still remember that self-study class, because the teacher was absent, the monitor organized us to go to the library to read books. This is a rare opportunity to take a break from work. I found my favorite book and escaped from the heavy schoolwork into the fantasy fairy tale world. What a precious memory that is.

I still remember when I was in the sixth grade, after lunch, I would always go to the small playground downstairs with a few boys and have a fight with the children in the first grade. Be caught by the furious class teacher and deduct points. I also smiled childish and didn't know how to repent. At that time, we were lawless and wanton, how happy we should be.

commemorate ...

Walking slowly to the office, I was very excited to see the teachers in those years. I told the stupid and funny things we did in those years. We thought the past would be forgotten, but we didn't expect the teachers to keep it in mind.

The years are so beautiful and cruel, the past comes to mind one by one, and now we are not what we were.

Time, please walk slowly, let me leave more memories for myself on the road of life.

When I wrote my name on the surface of the water, I imagined that I was a word washed away by the water. What we do is the ripples displayed, and the water that takes away those ripples is a world full of people.

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Life is short, decades will soon be submerged in the torrent of time, and there will always be a day of old age, so let's go to the future with a filial piety.

At present, the most popular one is WeChat, a convenient communication tool, which is found in almost everyone's mobile phone. Whenever Mother's Day comes, I can always see a lot of praise and thanks to my mother in my circle of friends. At this time, I will think, this must not be true filial piety. Most of them are invisible to mom, so what's the point of having money? Until something happened that changed my mind.

Every weekend afternoon, I go to a Lamian Noodles store. The shop is on an obscure street corner with an old signboard hanging obliquely on it. Not many people come every time. I always come if I like quiet.

"Boss, come to the bowl of noodles." "Ok, just a moment, please." The talking boss is in his early thirties. He treats people very kindly and has a rich voice, which gives people a spiritual feeling. I finished eating noodles quickly and was about to lift my feet when an old man in rags caught my attention. I saw the boss striding forward, hugging the old man tightly and sitting in the nearest chair. "Sit down first, I'll give you a meal. You must be hungry. I'll pour you a glass of water first. " Who is this old man? Why is the boss so kind to him?

By chance, my boss answered my doubts. He touched his nose and said something shyly. That was when he was two years old. He was cheated by traffickers because of his fun, and he lost contact with his relatives. He bought a shop himself and used WeChat to find relatives while living. I asked him in case they couldn't see. He said he wouldn't give up any hope of finding his blood relatives. Chatting and chatting, he was a little tearful, and the seven-foot man was crying in front of my eyes. He said, "I think about them all the time. I wrote all the updates in this circle of friends with tears. I really want to see them again. "

My heart trembled, and the frost of many days disappeared without a trace. His next words warmed my heart like wisps of sunshine. He said: "They may get old, but I am not around as a son. These old people who pass by my shop every day are like my elderly relatives. I will take care of them with a filial piety. "

Walking out of the store, I seem to have some warmth in my heart, like flying flowers in April and a heater in December.

On the day when we are all old, why not take a filial piety to the future? This rich color is enough to fill our youth. This is the beauty of life.

I went out in the starlight and walked home in the moonlight. When I opened my eyes, I saw a thick pile of exercise books. I looked up and saw a series of complicated math problems. This is my third year. I didn't know the hardships and difficulties of senior three until senior three.

The winter jasmine outside the window grew golden flower bones, and a drop of crystal dew slipped down the petals. "Tick-tock" arouses filar silk ripples in my heart:

In my junior high school life, I have gentle care from my parents! My mother always wakes me up gently, helps me pack my schoolbag and cooks delicious meals for me. When I am leaving home, my mother will help me carry my schoolbag and say a few words of persuasion and encouragement. My father will always pat me on the shoulder with his generous palm: "Come on, girl!" " At this time, my heart is full of warmth and gratitude.

The petals of the Spring Festival spread slightly, and when the wind blows, you can vaguely smell the quiet and sweet taste.

In my junior high school life, there are friends who have a good impression on me! At that time, I failed in the exam, and the sky became dark in an instant. Just as I was in tears, my friend Xue appeared, handed me a white handkerchief, and smiled and said to me, "People are only amazed at its beauty now, but it no longer means that her bud is soaked with blood and rain of sacrifice. Why are you crying? " You still have dreams! "I smiled, yes, I still have a dream, I want to keep flying!

"Pa" I seem to hear the sound of the buds of winter jasmine blooming, stretching slightly and turning golden in the sun.

In my junior high school life, I have the sweet encouragement of my teacher! Whenever I am proud of the exam, the teacher will kindly remind me that "I won't be arrogant if I win, and I won't be graceful if I lose." When I have a conflict with my classmates, the teacher will kindly come forward to mediate. I have made a little progress, and the teacher will give me an encouraging look and sincere praise.

Outside the window, the winter jasmine has been blooming brilliantly, swaying, as if winking at me, oh! I see, the third grade is neither bitter nor difficult. It is sweet, but it is also happy. It has people who love me and people I love.

Winter jasmine nodded and smiled at me. I nodded at it with a smile, as if I understood its mind. Flowers are going to blossom and bear fruit.

You help others, and others help you. This is perhaps the simplest interpretation of love. It is such a great love that is transmitted between people and makes our society more harmonious and beautiful.

On a sunny day, I walked hand in hand in the park with my little sister and my father. Suddenly, I saw many people gathered in the center of the square, layer by layer. What are they doing? Go' join in the fun'! My curiosity blooms like sesame seeds, and I can't stand it any longer. I ran to the market and managed to squeeze into the crowd with great difficulty. It turns out that many caring people are donating money to the people in the Sichuan disaster area. I have seen many people give their love. They put their money into one donation: some are 100 yuan, some are from 200 yuan, and some are from several thousand yuan. Just when I wanted to show my love, there was a sudden commotion in the crowd. When I looked at it, I didn't know when an old woman squeezed into the crowd. I looked at her carefully: ragged and white-haired, her old face was covered with wrinkles, like rough dead tree skin, dirty and smelly. Everyone is hiding far away, and some people even hold their noses. Hey, what is she doing here? Just when I was puzzled, I saw the old woman trembling into her pocket and pulled out a dirty little bag. She carefully unzipped the small bag and took out some crumpled one-dollar bills from it. He handed it to the person in charge of donation settlement with trepidation and said, "This is 12 yuan. I just sold it and got it back. It's not much, but it's also a gift from my old woman. People in the district need it more than I do. "

I don't know when it started, the people who had just escaped tightly surrounded the grandmother's life, while those who had just held their noses had helped her arm, and their eyes were shining with silver light.

This is love. Love is priceless.

In our family, there is a special person, that is grandpa.

Grandpa is a doctor. When I was a child, someone at home was sick and generally didn't go to the hospital. Let him treat it. He is an extremely smooth person, good at dealing with people and kind. He smiled at everyone, but his anger was terrible and the atmosphere was suffocating. He likes grandma, and grandma likes singing opera, so he has also formed the habit of going to the opera, singing differently. Unfortunately, the man in Go to the Opera has long since disappeared. Actually, I envy him. It is not easy for him to keep the true feelings of youth in his twilight years. Grandpa has a face with Chinese characters, and the wrinkles around his eyes are wrinkled when he smiles, which is a bit shocking. The wrinkles on his face scared away my little brother who had just reached my knee downstairs. He was a military doctor when he was young, and he really came step by step from that war-torn era. His character became firm and forbearing in the war, and the sufferings he suffered in his youth left traces on him, which made him have a special temperament and made him feel puzzled.

When a person is old, he will begin to feel nostalgic, because he can't remember what happened now, only those days long ago gradually become clear, and there are some yellow photos to comfort him. Grandpa always wears a pair of thick glasses and tells me stories after those old photos while watching the opera. I can't understand the expression on his face. Sometimes he just watches alone, sitting quietly on the sofa, squinting carefully, and occasionally laughing out loud. Grandpa is too honest, good for his family and better for outsiders. He doesn't know what sign he is. He is hesitant and doesn't know how to refuse others. Father said that grandpa's character would make him suffer one day. I think so too. It's a pity that he has been a good man for most of his life and devoted his life to others, and he can't change it. What always surprises me is that people are more willing to listen to the same words from his mouth. He spoke slowly, as if telling the truth, which made me feel at ease. When I was a child, I met with difficulties. If he were here, I would give him a silly smile and stop crying. He never said anything encouraging to me, nor did he tell me that he was afraid of grandpa, but he said nothing. As long as he stands by my side, I won't be afraid anymore. He is my mountain. He is the person I admire and trust most in the world except my father. I love him very much, I never said it, but I do love him very much, so he will protect me even if I don't say it.

Grandpa is a doctor with medical ethics. He doesn't judge casually, and he doesn't ask patients for money. He is extremely responsible for his patients, but he is also indifferent in some ways. After listening to his story about his youth, it is really difficult to associate such a cold person with him. Once grandpa and his colleagues went to the restaurant opposite the hospital for lunch. Just sitting down, they saw a car accident on a nearby road section on the news, and a large number of injured people were taken to the hospital. He and his colleagues rushed back to the hospital without saying anything. When they arrived at the hospital, the scene was in chaos, and the groans of the injured were linked together. After diagnosing the injured, he asked the nurse to prepare the operating room immediately, but now there are two critically ill patients and only one operating room. According to the normal situation, the first patient should be sent to the operating room, but he insisted on comparing the brain CT of the two patients before making a judgment. Finally, the injured who arrived first entered the operating room. As grandpa thought, the success rate of this injured person was only 10%, and the latter one saved 90%. The injured person who entered the operating room just turned 20 and was the victim of the accident. He was waiting for his vegetative career, but the man who was left outside waiting for the operating room was declared dead. Grandpa said when arguing with those who opposed his waiting for the result, I am a doctor, not a judge. For me, both the victim and the perpetrator. All I know now is that this is a choice, and those who have a 90% chance of being saved are the ones we should save. At that time, I thought he was really unreasonable. He comes first, then comes. Life is precious. How can it be so reasonable? But for grandpa, it is his mission to save the talents with high survival rate after comparison. Either lose the whole game or give up the game, there is no way out.

Grandpa's story is long and not over yet. When I grow up, I will slowly forget his memory until one day, as an old man, I begin to relive those warm memories of my youth.

The years are traceless, quietly burying the light and sadness together. Around the rings of the years, I am full of ambition and rush to a bright future paved with books, but I have not jumped out of that circle after all. ...

It was not until one day that I discovered that I had never gone far.

Once, I wrote such a sentence in my ideal composition, "I want to be a doctor when I grow up." Although the crooked handwriting looks a bit funny now, how pious I was when I moved it from my heart to the paper. He is still treasured by me at the bottom of the bookshelf. My initial dream, the seeds that have been dusted by years, will sprout?

With doubts, I walked into history, and the face of the great historian Sima Qian caught my eye. Writing historical records was originally his dream, but he was angered by the Li Ling case and suffered unbearable shame from ordinary people. His life, like duckweed drifting with the tide, drifted to infinity. However, it is precisely because of the misunderstanding of friends, the incomprehension of relatives and the ridicule of the world that people become angry and try to be strong, and finally leave the historical records, which is called "the historian sings a swan song and rhymes".

Sima Qian went through a lot of hardships before he was able to turn his fate around and make a name for himself. And I am a sound person, how can I give up my dream easily?

I remember Tagore said, "Life is in a hurry, even if you break a string, you should be in a hurry to play.". This is life. " Catherine Hathaway once said in the preface to The Little Blacksmith, "I have forgotten the taste of tears since I can remember." She has been ill in bed for ten years, and it seems that she has been deprived of the happiness that most people think-her height is always only the height of a ten-year-old child. However, he did not shed tears and did not give up his pursuit of life. She used the passion of life to dissolve tears and turn her fate around.

Perhaps, the road to chasing dreams is full of thorns, but Catherine Hathaway reminds me all the time: even if you are pricked and shed a lot of blood, don't cry, because tears are useless excrement and a sign of cowardice, and the sea level will not rise because of this. Smile in the face of setbacks, and a bright tomorrow is still beckoning to us.

Wandering in the sea of books, following the footsteps of many sages, I decided to raise my full sail and sail for the other side of my dream!

In the autumn of September, Jingui is fragrant. In this picturesque season, the book of years has turned over a page in a hurry, so I stepped on the cheerful steps and ushered in my new semester.

In a blink of an eye, I have become a junior high school student, and the journey of junior high school has gone through two thirds. Looking back on the course of these two years, I have to sigh that time flies. There is an illusion that I entered middle school only yesterday and today has become a junior three student.

Entering the third grade means entering the graduating class, which means that I will use my own efforts to lay a solid foundation for the success of the senior high school entrance examination next year. Therefore, intense study has become the main theme of junior high school life. Less than a week after school started, I felt a tense atmosphere. Not only has the learning difficulty increased, but the process of the teacher's lecture has also become faster. The students dare not be lazy as before, they are full of energy and devote themselves to their studies. Listen carefully in class and take notes hard for fear of missing any important knowledge points; When I get home, I will recite Chinese texts, English words, physical formulas and chemical formulas. As our head teacher said, "always prepare for the exam."

Although the life in grade three is tense, it is not a dull blank sheet of paper. In class, teachers often make us laugh in simple and humorous ways to relieve our stress. During the break, we talk and laugh with our deskmates or discuss problems. These simple pleasures, like seasonings, make life in grade three more interesting. Sometimes some unexpected and interesting things happen, which makes me look forward to every day of the third grade.

The life in the third grade is also crucial, which is a turning point in our lives. Whether the future will become more perfect or leave regrets depends on the results of our efforts this year. Life in grade three is like a torrent. Only by striving for the upper reaches can we reach the other side of success.

The third grade is an unforgettable time in life. All the ups and downs that happened in the third grade are memories worth collecting. Therefore, I will cherish it and make every day of struggle for my dream extraordinary!