Once upon a time there was a child.
He hates to dictate.
He was fed up with reviewing everything. He was annoyed by the ambiguous answers he had given. He was nervous about the score.
When he recalled the tests in previous English classes in junior school,he seemed to see himself, see them, and, see her. Everyone would exchange their games, their free time and their morning study time to dictations. And she, corrected the paper as usual. She rewarded the children who got full marks with big 'Good's, while she encouraged the children without ideal scores to redoubled their efforts. She presided over the dictations which were not a must again and again. They presented the quizzes which shouldn't have existed again and again. Everything, why?
He looked back at the classroom where everyone worked extremely hard. Dictation, is it really worth hating?
Sometimes, he would misspelled the words that he was familiar with. Sometimes, he would confidently make five-star mistakes. Sometimes, he would be embarrassed to face the letter F. But he suddenly realized that all of this, was just 'sometimes', and the one who arranged the tests elaborately seemed to take on more than he did.
Understanding. A kind of attitude wanted.
If we cannot avoid, we can put it down.
Life is a practice. To dictate is an attitude.
He can't persuade himself to turn crude to skilled at once. However, he no longer seemed to hate writing as he used to.
Really didn't hate?
Perhaps.

Once upon a time there was a child.
He hates to dictate.
He was fed up with reviewing everything. He was annoyed by the ambiguous answers he had given. He felt ill at ease before knowing the score.
When he recalled the tests in previous English classes in junior school,he seemed to see himself, see them, and, see her. Everyone would sacrifice their games, their free time and their morning study time for dictations. And she, corrected the paper as usual. She rewarded the children who got full marks with big 'Good's, and encouraged the children without ideal scores to double their efforts. She presided over the dictations which were not a must again and again. They presented the quizzes which shouldn't have existed again and again. Everything, why?
He looked back upon the time when everyone worked extremely hard in classroom. Dictation, is it really worth hating?
Sometimes, he would misspelled the words that he was familiar with. Sometimes, he would confidently make five-star mistakes. Sometimes, he would be embarrassed to face the letter F. But he suddenly realized that all of this, was just 'sometimes', and the one who arranged the tests elaborately seemed to take on more than he did.
Understanding. A kind of attitude wanted.
If it's something we cannot avoid, just put it down.
Life is a practice. To dictate is an attitude.
He couldn't persuade himself to turn his rusty skills into proficient ones at once. However, he no longer seemed to hate writing as he used to.
Really didn't hate?
Perhaps.

"If it's something we cannot avoid, just put it down.
Life is a practice. To dictate is an attitude."
What advisable words
I could hardly express my admiration to the author in those pale words,what I only could do is