My seventh grade English teacher was named Mr. Forest. He had dark hair and a bushy(浓密的) beard. All of the student liked him because he picked out really good stories for us{#blank#}1{#/blank#}(read) in class. Well, we all liked him until he{#blank#}2{#/blank#} (return) our graded homework.

    When he gave back my paper, it looked like it{#blank#}3{#/blank#}(cover) in blood. He{#blank#}4{#/blank#} (check) everything and made comments with a red pen .There were so many marks and comments that you couldn't even tell what I had written. Mr. Forest wanted me{#blank#}5{#/blank#}(fix) everything.

    At that time, I was sure Mr. Forest didn't understand anything about being in the seventh grade. Why was he was strict with us? It seemed unfair! When I got older, though, I realized I was getting fewer and fewer of those red marks in my homework. By the time I got to high school, I was already a pretty good writer.

    Now I am a teacher and I put red marks of my own on students" papers. I don't understand their problems. But I do it so that my students can be the best.

    {#blank#}6{#/blank#} (learn)is like building a house. If you don't have strong bricks on the bottom, the home{#blank#}7{#/blank#}(stand). If Mr. Forest had not been so strict with me with his red pen, I wouldn't be who I am today.