Miss my head teacher

Mr. Zhang was the head teacher of my fifth grade primary school. Her appearance is very ordinary: a black hair, with a small braid in the back, and a pair of eyes with less blood, should be too tired to leave it. A pair of eyeglasses matched her on the high bridge of nose, and a good mouth could make the dull and dull Chinese lesson interesting.
Although Mr. Zhang usually treats us more strictly, in private, Mr. Zhang is very concerned about students.
In one PE class, I accidentally cut my left arm. In fact, it was only scratched a little skin, leaving a small wound. In the next Chinese lesson, when Mr. Zhang passed by my left hand, he found my wound and called me to the office. At first I thought I was going to be taught what I had done wrong. As a result, Mr. Zhang took a medicine box from the cupboard. As she opened the medicine box, she asked me, “What happened to the injury to your left hand? You didn’t have it when you came this morning.” “Well, I was accidentally scratched on the wall during my PE class. It’s nothing.” It never occurred to me that the teacher would notice such a small wound. “Nothing’s wrong. You know your wound is pusting.” I looked at the wound and found that there was indeed less pus flowing out. It was much more painful than before. Mr. Zhang walked up to me and gently touched the pus off my wound with toilet paper. Then, he dabbed some medicine with a mass of medical cotton to wipe the wound for me. While dealing with the wound, he asked me, “Does it hurt?” “It’s all right.” Although the mouth said so, but the left hand involuntarily retracted. “Do you remember to be careful in the future and come to the teacher if you have something to do, you know?” Teacher Zhang’s tone suddenly became serious. “I see.” I responded quickly. After two weeks, my wound was almost all right. Teacher Zhang came to me specially and asked me, “How is the wound?” Does it still hurt?” “Much better, thanks to your medicine.” I answered her with a smile, grateful.
Not only that, but also something happened during the military training.
At that time, a classmate caught a cold and was not feeling well and happened to be in our dormitory. One noon, Mr. Zhang came to see us. The classmate was lying in bed and resting. Mr. Zhang asked him with concern what had happened. The classmate was very reluctant to tell about his illness. Teacher Zhang left without notice. The next day it began to rain and the training went on as usual. The classmate caught a cold. At noon, Mr. Zhang came to visit us again and found him lying in bed with a cold. He carried him up and sent him to the clinic. When I went to visit my sick classmate in the evening, I saw Mr. Zhang peeling apples for him. I asked, “How is your body?” The classmate answered, “Don’t worry, it’s almost as good as…” “What’s so good, you like to be brave, you can’t have another time.” Mr. Zhang interrupted him in a hurry. “By the way, it’s very late now. What are you going to do?” I asked Mr. Zhang. “It’s my responsibility to take care of the students right here.” Faced with this answer, some of my classmates and I did not respond to it. After the reaction, I could only shake my head helplessly. Who made our teacher Zhang always regard the students as her treasure?
Later, Mr. Zhang left school for medical reasons. On the day that Mr. Zhang left, everyone sat in the classroom and cried. Everyone was very sad for those days. A few months later, Mr. Zhang told us in the class that she was well, but she could not be a teacher for some reasons. Everyone cried again.
Since then, we have never seen Mr. Zhang. The former teacher left her favorite place, school, but she can never leave one place, everyone’s heart.