The teacher I remember the most may not have a clue at all about whether I once were his student if we happen to meet on the street one day. To me has he never expressed his love, concern, or even respect, not to mention that he did seem biased and treat me unfairly. During one of his lectures, he was about to change the topic when I asked for permission to speak and when granted, tried to tell my classmates a grammar point I thought they might find interesting. He interrupted right after my introduction and underestimated my idea in front of the class; he even found faults with me for some trivial things afterwards. Perhaps this was the most important lesson I learned from him: never shall I show people what I know unless I need so to get things done. Competition is everywhere; weapons are what we never share. I didn't have a chance to let him know how thoroughly I had understood his implication, and perhaps he doesn't want me to show that I understand, either. I owe you a thank-you, Mr. Writing.
(Không đếm, nhưng chắc là đủ chữ)