"Slap!" I was in the middle of washing my hands and hadn't even had time to react before the teacher's hand struck my face with a loud sound. Before I could process what happened, she angrily demanded, "Why didn't you roll up your sleeves!?"

"My hands aren't wet..."

"But when you wash your hands, you have to roll up your sleeves!" My homeroom teacher walked away without looking back, giving me no chance to explain. My mind was filled with confusion.

She was my second-grade homeroom teacher, surnamed Shi, and even an outstanding teacher at the school. But the wound from that slap has stayed in my heart for twenty years. Before entering the workforce, I didn't understand why I was so afraid of making mistakes, afraid of being scolded, afraid of offending people. It wasn't until later, after reading many psychology books and watching videos, that I discovered this timid personality and lack of confidence were connected to those two slaps in second grade.

I reflected back on "the matter of rolling up sleeves while washing hands." The rule used to be that you had to do it that way. But perhaps by that time I already had purposeful awareness. I'm someone who likes to understand not just the how, but also the why. The purpose of rolling up sleeves while washing hands is to keep your long sleeves from getting wet. If a child is tall enough that washing hands won't wet their clothes, then isn't that sufficient?

"This is a matter of classroom management for teachers," Last month when I went back to give a lecture at my high school, I mentioned the incident I experienced in elementary school to my former homeroom teacher. She enlightened me: as a teacher, you need to manage classroom order and atmosphere. If rolling up sleeves is part of establishing rules, then you must apply it equally to everyone, or you'll lose your authority. I can understand that reasoning now, because I'm an adult. But how did I get through those dozen-plus years?

As I mentioned earlier, there were two slaps that year in second grade. The second one happened like this: In the past, we sometimes needed to use test papers during class, but the teacher kept them. When we needed them, each student could only get one sheet. Because I loved drawing, I bought my own notebook. When the teacher was about to distribute papers during class, I excitedly pulled mine out and placed it on my desk, expecting praise from the teacher. Instead, she slapped me again...

"Why did you steal the class's test papers?" "I didn't."

"Then where did this come from?" "I bought it."

"Where?" "At the school store."

"How much was it?" "Ten yuan..."

After the teacher's barrage of aggressive questioning, she just continued the lesson without any explanation—no clarification of who was right or wrong, or why she hit me first without even asking. For an eight-year-old student, this was shocking and heartbreaking. I had prepared myself well, yet all I got in return was a scolding with no reason given and no explanation.

I remember holding my hot face, and in the following years, I didn't initiate conversation with my classmates. When I got to third and fourth grade, classmates would ask me, "Why don't you talk much?" I'd answer, "Because I don't know what to talk about." But what that really meant was that I was afraid of asking the wrong questions, offending people, or making the atmosphere awkward—completely opposite to who I am now.

Of course, the transformation from those slaps, to lacking confidence and fearing mistakes, to who I am today—someone who gets on stage as a speaker and journalist, constantly meeting new people and striking up conversations—wasn't easy. When I first entered the workforce, I was extremely lacking in confidence. I didn't talk to others and was terrified of making mistakes. I didn't dare communicate, didn't dare ask questions, and had misunderstandings with my supervisors—it was a complete mess. A senior colleague even asked me, "Why do you have such good abilities but so little confidence?" I think I can really attribute that to those two slaps.

You might think that an eight-year-old wouldn't remember much, but the truth is, twenty years later, my memories of it are still extremely vivid. How did I adjust to it?

After entering the workforce, I began reading different types of books—business, career, psychology, and more. Through writing, I accumulated my emotions and recorded my growth. I reflected on myself through these books, asking why I reacted certain ways to certain things, or observing why others kept getting trapped in the same difficulties. Through constant reflection, thinking, and correcting my behavior, I gradually overcame my psychological barriers, such as my fear of facing the camera.

I used to be a TV reporter, but honestly, I was really afraid of cameras because I didn't think I looked good. But to overcome that fear, I chose to become a TV reporter, throwing myself into the most extreme of my fears to conquer my anxiety. I won't say I now face it naturally and calmly, but at least I can tell others that I've managed to do it.

Finally, I want to say that every teacher plays a crucial role in every student's life. Perhaps nowadays, with more evolved social attitudes, corporal punishment and unreasonable behavior have decreased, but there are still unseen corners where various forms of unacceptable abuse happen every day. It's not just physical abuse that constitutes abuse—psychological wounds are the hardest type to heal. Education is always the most powerful tool of influence for both children and adults. If you are a teacher, or if you are someone's mentor, even a little more empathy, and shifting perspective to think from another's viewpoint, is enough to plant a seed in someone's heart that creates a positive cycle. Over time, it's enough to make this world a better place.