这群学生：我不要毕业，我就想“留级”

ng, said the Stark words. Not for the first time, she reflected on what a strange people these northerners were.“The man died well, I’ll give him that,” Ned said. He had a swatch of oiled leather in one hand. He ran it lightly up the greatsword as he spoke, polishing the metal to a dark glow. “I was glad for Bran’s sake. You would have been proud of Bran.”“I am always proud of Bran,” Catelyn replied, watching the sword as he stroked it. She could see the rippling deep within the steel, where the metal had been folded back on itself a hundred times in the forging. Catelyn had no love for swords, but she could not deny that Ice had its own beauty. It had been forged in Valyria, before the Doom had come to the old Freehold, when the ironsmiths had worked their metal with spells as well as hammers. Four hundred years old it was, and as sharp as the day it was forged. The name it bore was older still, a legacy from the age of heroes, when the Starks were Kings in the North.“He was the fourth this year,” Ned said grimly. “The poor man was half-mad. Something had put a fear in him so deep that my words could not reach him.” He sighed. “Ben writes that the strength of the Night’s Watch is down below a thousand. It’s not only desertions. They are losing men on rangings as well.”“Is it the wildlings?” she asked.“Who else?” Ned lifted Ice, looked down the cool steel length of it. “And it will only grow worse. The day may come when I will have no choice but to call the banners and ride north to deal with this King-beyond-the-Wall for good and all.”“Beyond the Wall?” The thought made Catelyn shudder.Ned saw the dread on her face. “Mance Rayder is nothing for us to fear.”“There are darker things beyond the Wall.” She glanced behind her at the heart tree, the pale bark and red eyes, watching, listening, thinking its long slow thoughts.His smile was gentle. “You listen to too many of Old Nan’s stories. The Others are as dead as the children of the forest, gone eight thousand years. Maester Luwin will tell you they never lived at all. No living man has ever seen one.”“Until this morning, no living man had ever seen a direwolf either,” Catelyn reminded him.“I ought to know better than to argue with a Tully,” he said with a rueful smile. He slid Ice back into its sheath. “You did not come here to tell me crib tales. I know how little you like this place. What is it, my lady?”Catelyn took her husband’s hand. “There was grievous news today, my lord. I did not wish to trouble you until you had cleansed yourself.” There was no way to soften the blow, so she told him straight. “I am so sorry, my love. Jon Arryn is dead.”His eyes found hers, and she could see how hard it took him, as she had known it would. In his youth, Ned had fostered at the Eyrie, and the childless Lord Arryn had become a second father to him and his fellow ward, Robert Baratheon. When the Mad King Aerys II Targaryen had demanded their heads, the Lord of the Eyrie had raised his moon-and-falcon banners in revolt rather than give up those he had pledged to protect.And one day fifteen years ago, this second father had become a brother as well, as he and Ned stood together in the sept at Riverrun to wed two sisters, the daughters of Lord Hoster Tully.“Jon?.?.?.?” he said. “Is this news certain?”“It was the king’s seal, and the letter is in Robert’s own hand. I saved it for you. He said Lord Arryn was taken quickly. Even Maester Pycelle was helpless, but he brought the milk of the poppy, so Jon did not linger long in pain.”“That is some small mercy, I suppose,” he said. She could see the grief on his face, but even then he thought first of her. “Your sister,” he said. “And Jon’s boy. What word of them?”“The message said only that they were well, and had returned to the Eyrie,” Catelyn said. “I wish they had gone to Riverrun instead. The Eyrie is high and lonely, and it was ever her husband’s place, not hers. Lord Jon’s memory will haunt each stone. I know my sister. She needs the comfort of family and friends around her.”“Your uncle waits in the Vale, does he not? Jon named him Knight of the Gate, I’d heard.”Catelyn nodded. “Brynden will do what he can for her, and for the boy. That is some comfort, but still?.?.?.?”“Go to her,” Ned urged. “Take the children. Fill her halls with noise and shouts and laughter. That boy of hers needs other children about him, and Lysa should not be alone in her grief.”“Would that I could,” Catelyn said. “The letter had other tidings. The king is riding to Winterfell to seek you out.”It took Ned a moment to comprehend her words, but when the understanding came, the darkness left his eyes. “Robert is coming here?” When she nodded, a smile broke across his face.Catelyn wished she could share his joy. But she had heard the talk in the yards; a direwolf dead in the snow, a broken antler in its throat. Dread coiled within her like a snake, but she forced herself to smile at this man she loved, this man who put no faith in signs. “I knew that would please you,” she said. “We should send word to your brother on the Wall.”“Yes, of course,” he agreed. “Ben will want to be here. I shall tell Maester Luwin to send his swiftest bird.” Ned rose and pulled her to her feet. “Damnation, how many years has it been? And he gives us no more notice than this? How many in his party, did the message say?”“I should think a hundred knights, at the least, with all their retainers, and half again as many freeriders. Cersei and the children travel with them.”“Robert will keep an easy pace for their sakes,” he said. “It is just as well. That will give us more time to prepare.”“The queen’s brothers are also in the party,” she told him.Ned grimaced at that. There was small love between him and the queen’s family, Catelyn knew. The Lannisters of Casterly Rock had come late to Robert’s cause, when victory was all but certain, and he had never forgiven them. “Well, if the price for Robert’s company is an infestation of Lannisters, so be it. It sounds as though Robert is bringing half his court.”“Where the king goes, the realm follows,” she said.“It will be good to see the children. The youngest was still sucking at the Lannister woman’s teat the last time I saw him. He must be, what, five by now?”“Prince Tommen is seven,” she told him. “The same age as Bran. Please, Ned, guard your tongue. The Lannister woman is our queen, and her pride is said to grow with every passing year.”Ned squeezed her hand. “There must be a feast, of course, with singers, and Robert will want to hunt. I shall send Jory south with an honor guard to meet them on the kingsroad and escort them back. Gods, how are we going to feed them all? On his way already, you said? Damn the man. Damn his royal hide.”3．DAENERYSHer brother held the gown up for her inspection. “This is beauty. Touch it. Go on. Caress the fabric.”Dany touched it. The cloth was so smooth that it seemed to run through her fingers like water. She could not remember ever wearing anything so soft. It frightened her. She pulled her hand away. “Is it really mine?”“A gift from the Magister Illyrio,” Viserys said, smiling. Her brother was in a high mood tonight. “The color will bring out the violet in your eyes. And you shall have gold as well, and jewels of all sorts. Illyrio has promised. Tonight you must look like a princess.”A princess, Dany thought. She had forgotten what that was like. Perhaps she had never really known. “Why does he give us so much?” she asked. “What does he want from us?” For nigh on half a year, they had lived in the magister’s house, eating his food, pampered by his servants. Dany was thirteen, old enough to know that such gifts seldom come without their price, here in the free city of Pentos.“Illyrio is no fool,” Viserys said. He was a gaunt young man with nervous hands and a feverish look in his pale lilac eyes. “The magister knows that I will not forget my friends when I come into my throne.”Dany said nothing. Magister Illyrio was a dealer in spices, gemstones, dragonbone, and other, less savory things. He had friends in all of the Nine Free Cities, it was said, and even beyond, in Vaes Dothrak and the fabled lands beside the Jade Sea. It was also said that he’d never had a friend he wouldn’t cheerfully sell for the right price. Dany listened to the talk in the streets, and she heard these things, but she knew better than to question her brother when he wove his webs of dream. His anger was a terrible thing when roused. Viserys called it “waking the dragon.”Her brother hung the gown beside the door. “Illyrio will send the slaves to bathe you. Be sure you wash off the stink of the stables. Khal Drogo has a thousand horses, tonight he looks for a different sort nificent blue-grey mountains, and armored knights rode to battle beneath the banners of their lords. The Dothraki called that land Rhaesh Andahli, the land of the Andals. In the Free Cities, they talked of Westeros and the Sunset Kingdoms. Her brother had a simpler name. “Our land,” he called it. The words were like a prayer with him. If he said them enough, the gods were sure to hear. “Ours by blood right, taken from us by treachery, but ours still, ours forever. You do not steal from the dragon, oh, no. The dragon remembers.”And perhaps the dragon did remember, but Dany could not. She had never seen this land her brother said was theirs, this realm beyond the narrow sea. These places he talked of, Casterly Rock and the Eyrie, Highgarden and the Vale of Arryn, Dorne and the Isle of Faces, they were just words to her. Viserys had been a boy of eight when they fled King’s Landing to escape the advancing armies of the Usurper, but Daenerys had been only a quickening in their mother’s womb.Yet sometimes Dany would picture the way it had been, so often had her brother told her the stories. The midnight flight to Dragonstone, moonlight shimmering on the ship’s black sails. Her brother Rhaegar battling the Usurper in the bloody waters of the Trident and dying for the woman he loved. The sack of King’s Landing by the ones Viserys called the Usurper’s dogs, the lords Lannister and Stark. Princess Elia of Dorne pleading for mercy as Rhaegar’s heir was ripped from her breast and murdered before her eyes. The polished skulls of the last dragons staring down sightlessly from the walls of the throne room while the Kingslayer opened Father’s throat with a golden sword.She had been born on Dragonstone nine moons after their flight, while a raging summer storm threatened to rip the island fastness apart. They said that storm was terrible. The Targaryen fleet was smashed while it lay at anchor, and huge stone blocks were ripped from the parapets and sent hurtling into the wild waters of the narrow sea. Her mother had died birthing her, and for that her brother Viserys had never forgiven her.She did not remember Dragonstone either. They had run again, just before the Usurper’s brother set sail with his new-built fleet. By then only Dragonstone itself, the ancient seat of their House, had remained of the Seven Kingdoms that had once been theirs. It would not remain for long. The garrison had been prepared to sell them to the Usurper, but one night Ser Willem Darry and four loyal men had broken into the nursery and stolen them both, along with her wet nurse, and set sail under cover of darkness for the safety of the Braavosian coast.She remembered Ser Willem dimly, a great grey bear of a man, half-blind, roaring and bellowing orders from his sickbed. The servants had lived in terror of him, but he had always been kind to Dany. He called her “Little Princess” and sometimes “My Lady,” and his hands were soft as old leather. He never left his bed, though, and the smell of sickness clung to him day and night, a hot, moist, sickly sweet odor. That was when they lived in Braavos, in the big house with the red door. Dany had her own room there, with a lemon tree outside her window. After Ser Willem had died, the servants had stolen what little money they had left, and soon after they had been put out of the big house. Dany had cried when the red door closed behind them forever.They had wandered since then, from Braavos to Myr, from Myr to Tyrosh, and on to Qohor and Volantis and Lys, never staying long in any one place. Her brother would not allow it. The Usurper’s hired knives were close behind them, he insisted, though Dany had never seen one.At first the magisters and archons and merchant princes were pleased to welcome the last Targaryens to their homes and tables, but as the years passed and the Usurper continued to sit upon the Iron Throne, doors closed and their lives grew meaner. Years past they had been forced to sell their last few treasures, and now even the coin they had gotten from Mother’s crown had gone. In the alleys and wine sinks of Pentos, they called her brother “the beggar king.” Dany did not want to know what they called her.“We will have it all back someday, sweet sister,” he would promise her. Sometimes his hands shook when he talked about it. “The jewels and the silks, Dragonstone and King’s Landing, the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms, all they have taken from us, we will have it back.” Viserys lived for that day. All that Daenerys wanted back was the big house with the red door, the lemon tree outside her window, the childhood she had never known.There came a soft knock on her door. “Come,” Dany said, turning away from the window. Illyrio’s servants entered, bowed, and set about their business. They were slaves, a gift from one of the magister’s many Dothraki friends. There was no slavery in the free city of Pentos. Nonetheless, they were slaves. The old woman, small and grey as a mouse, never said a word, but the girl made up for it. She was Illyrio’s favorite, a fair-haired, blue-eyed wench of sixteen who chattered constantly as she worked.They filled her bath with hot water brought up from the kitchen and scented it with fragrant oils. The girl pulled the rough cotton tunic over Dany’s head and helped her into the tub. The water was scalding hot, but Daenerys did not flinch or cry out. She liked the heat. It made her feel clean. Besides, her brother had often told her that it was never too hot for a Targaryen. “Ours is the house of the dragon,” he would say. “The fire is in our blood.”The old woman washed her long, silver-pale hair and gently combed out the snags, all in silence. The girl scrubbed her back and her feet and told her how lucky she was. “Drogo is so rich that even his slaves wear golden collars. A hundred thousand men ride in his khalasar, and his palace in Vaes Dothrak has two hundred rooms and doors of solid silver.” There was more like that, so much more, what a handsome man the khal was, so tall and fierce, fearless in battle, the best rider ever to mount a horse, a demon archer. Daenerys said nothing. She had always assumed that she would wed Viserys when she came of age. For centuries the Targaryens had married brother to sister, since Aegon the Conqueror had taken his sisters to bride. The line must be kept pure, Viserys had told her a thousand times; theirs was the kingsblood, the golden blood of old Valyria, the blood of the dragon. Dragons did not mate with the beasts of the前两天，

近年来，老年大学火爆，入学之难丝毫不亚于“入托难”。为了就读老年大学，老人们“抢”名额，甚至主动当起了“留级生”。

老年大学“一座难求”的背后是老年人的“精神空巢”，他们渴望被关注和充实自我。

“只读书不毕业”成了普遍现象

位于江苏南京的金陵老年大学，设置了9个系、90多个专业、240多门课，有320多个班级，每学期1.3万多人次就学，入学名额一号难求。

“报名必须靠抢，不然肯定上不了。”在该校英语口语班就学的一位老人告诉记者，越来越多的老人走出国门，口语班非常火爆。“不仅有英语角、英语沙龙，还有河海大学的留学生每个月来学校进行口语交流，所以大家都抢着上。”

金陵老年大学副校长王玉珍告诉记者，每年招生时节，学校周边的小宾馆全部住满。学校需要提前把教室门、空调全部打开，方便没有订到宾馆的老人在教室等待。很多老年人半夜就开始排队，今年学校尝试网络报名，不到一分钟时间所有课程全部抢光。“不会上网的老人有意见，说选不上课。有子女在国外的，凭借时差为老人选到了课。”

由于课程丰富，且在书画和文史研究方面师资雄厚，依托当地的专家形成了专业研究院，有部分学员从外省赶到金陵老年大学学习。一位山东的老太太为了入学书画系，在南京租房专门学习已有几年时间。

一边是学员进不来，另一边是学员不想毕业。在老年大学里学习十几年仍未毕业的不在少数，对很多老年人来说，在这里学习已经成为生活的快乐源泉。“只读书不毕业”成了普遍现象。

金陵老年大学的电钢琴课堂

《江苏省2018老年人口信息和老龄事业发展状况报告》显示，约有385万60岁至89岁老年人有学习需求。

晚年生活的精神支柱

金陵老年大学的一位老人，得知自己在英语经典歌曲演唱班的考试没有通过进而无法进行下一阶段的学习后，哭成了泪人。没有老伴没有孩子，英语经典歌曲演唱班成了老人生活里的唯一期待。

“期待”二字，道出了很多老年人对精神生活的渴求。随着家庭结构小型化，独居、夫妻相依为命的老年人越来越多，精神慰藉需求越来越难以从子女处得到满足。尤其老年人退休后，社交圈会快速萎缩。

每周的电子琴和书法课，是年逾八旬的赵志勇最期待的。上课前一天，他就早早地把书包收拾好。“待在家里很闷的，没人说话。去学校大家一起说说讲讲，能充实自己的生活。”

很多老人不愿将晚年生活“捆绑”在家庭尤其是子女的家庭生活上，他们有着实现自我价值的渴求。江苏省老龄办副主任刘育林和老人聊天时发现，很多人哭诉在家里带孙子、围着灶台转，看上去忙叨叨的，其实心里空落落的。

“养教结合是积极应对人口老龄化的一项重要举措，老年大学成为老年人精神养老、健康生活的有益选项。”刘育林说。

刚退休不久的廖美云如今终于有时间发展自己的兴趣爱好。她表示，时间30%留给家庭，60%留给自己的爱好，剩下的留给社交。“虽然也步入了老年行列，但我们有自己的活法。前段时间老年大学举办文艺汇演，我们合唱团的表演得到大家一致好评。被人认可的感觉真好！”

对失能半失能老人来说，医疗是养老的刚需；对健康老人而言，进入老年大学已成为养老生活的一种方式。

“闪光的老年”

需要更完备的老年教育体系

“外面的人想进来，里面的人不想出去。”老年人旺盛的学习需求和学习资源供给不平衡，是目前最现实的问题。王玉珍认为需形成完善的老年教育体系：分层次、分类别。搞好社区办学，发展普及性、基础性老年教育，让更多老人可以就近入学，不要舍近求远；市级老年大学则有侧重地发展“优势学科”，解决有学习基础老人的“深造”需求。“今后应形成市、区、社区等联动的老年教育联盟。”

针对不愿毕业的“留级生”，专家建议可通过在老年大学内设置社团的形式，给这些学员一个活动、学习的出口。如设置摄影校友会，让学校里已经学习多年的学员加入其中，由社团定期组织采风、讲座等活动。既为想进来的新同学腾挪空间，也为“担心离开学校后孤寂”的老学员提供新的活动平台。

在课程设置上，随着更多“50、60”后迈入老年阶段，其自身文化水平及当下社会的发展对学校的课程设置提出了更高的要求。“十几年前我们学校的电脑课很热门，现在智能手机普及了，电脑课也随之萎缩。”王玉珍介绍，随之而来的是英语类课程，满足老人出国游玩、探望孩子时交流的需求；形象设计班，满足老人对服装选择、色彩搭配、妆容修饰的需要；卫生保健类课程，满足老人对养生的需求等。

质量高、收费低，是公办老年大学火爆的重要原因。当前市场上的优质民办老年教育机构为数不多，可以由政府出台宏观政策，积极支持社会力量办学。可采取公办民营的方式，基础设施建设由政府负责，办学质量上由公立老年大学指导等，促进老年教育供给矛盾的解决。

“参与社会的渠道变窄了，这也是导致更多老年人加入老年大学的原因。”刘育林表示，今后在基层社会治理方面可以充分发挥退休老人的重要作用，让他们减少孤独感，增加被需要感，从这一层面出发缓解老年大学的“入学难”。

最美不过夕阳红

提高老年人的生活质量

实现“闪光老年”

小伙伴们你或家人上老年大学了吗

对老年大学有什么看法

欢迎一起来留言讨论吧