【学习心得】快乐的课间学习心得600字：课间十分钟的自我管理

贴在墙上的那张课间计划表

进入七年级以后，作业多了一倍，我第一个念头就是做计划。星期日晚上，我做了一张课间计划表，贴在书桌旁边的墙上：第一节后的十分钟，喝水、上厕所、背八个英语单词；中午午休，快一点吃饭、做半小时数学、睡十五分钟；最后一节后的十分钟，把当天的错题看一遍再回家。计划表用三种颜色的笔写得整整齐齐，我觉得自己已经走在自律的路上了。

执行在星期二就崩了。上午课间，我掏出英语单词本，可旁边两个同学在聊球赛，耳朵忍不住凑过去，听到一半才想起计划。中午午休，数学题太难，我磨了二十分钟没解出来，午睡被挤掉了。那天下午上课，我眼皮直打架，老师的声音像隔着一段路传来。

星期三晚上，我把计划表取下来，看了很久。它没有写错，每一分钟都排满了。可它缺的恰恰是做不到这三个字的位置。我不是机器，累了就会松，一松，整条链子就断。

我改了计划。每个课间只固定两件事：水和厕所，再加一件必须做的任务，背单词或看错题，二选一。剩下的时间归我自由支配，聊天、发呆都行。午睡是雷打不动的项目，哪怕作业没写完也要睡。

改完以后，计划表看起来不那么满了，执行却续上了。两个星期后我发现，背单词这种挤出来的事反而记住了，午睡把下午最后两节课救回来了。我明白了一件事：自我管理不是把时间管死，是知道自己最容易在哪里垮掉，然后提前给那个地方留一个能站住的姿势。

现在那张计划表还贴在墙上，只是字少了，只剩三行。执行记录也不再完美，单词有时没背，但午睡从没缺过。我不再为每一次破例自责，而是去看破例发生在哪个位置，把明天的计划往那里挪一挪。

The Recess Plan I Pasted on the Wall

After entering seventh grade, homework doubled, and my first thought was to make a plan. On Sunday night I produced a recess schedule and pasted it on the wall beside my desk: in the ten minutes after the first lesson, drink water, visit the toilet, memorize eight English words; at noon, eat quickly, do math for half an hour, sleep for fifteen minutes; in the ten minutes after the last lesson, review the mistakes of the day before going home. The schedule was written neatly in three colors of pen, and I felt I was already on the road of self-discipline.

The execution collapsed on Tuesday. During the morning recess I took out my word book, but two classmates nearby were talking about a basketball game, and my ears drifted over without permission; I remembered the plan only halfway. At noon, the math problem was too hard, I dawdled for twenty minutes without solving it, and the nap got squeezed out. That afternoon my eyelids kept fighting, and the voice of the teacher reached me as if from far down a road.

On Wednesday night I took the schedule off the wall and stared at it for a long time. Nothing in it was wrong. Every minute was filled. What it lacked was exactly the place for the words I cannot. I am not a machine. When I am tired, I loosen, and once I loosen, the whole chain snaps.

I rewrote the plan. Each recess now fixes only two things: water and the toilet, plus one required task, either words or mistakes, my choice. The rest of the time is mine, for chatting or staring into space. The nap is untouchable, even if homework is unfinished.

After the change, the schedule looked less full, yet the execution continued. Two weeks later I found that memorizing words, a thing squeezed out of gaps, had actually stuck in my memory, and the nap had saved the last two classes of the afternoon. I understood one thing: self-management is not locking time to death. It is knowing where you are most likely to break, and leaving a stance there in advance that can still stand.

The schedule is still on the wall, with fewer words now, only three lines. The record of execution is no longer perfect either: sometimes the words are not memorized, but the nap has never been missed. I no longer blame myself for every exception. I look at where the exception happened, and shift the plan for tomorrow toward that spot.

记了三天的课间执行记录

九月，班主任给我们布置了一个任务：连续三天记录课间的执行情况，写下自己实际做了什么。我觉得简单，三天以后，我的记录里全是空白和涂改。

第一天的记录是：铃响，聊天，看窗外，想起要看错题，翻出书，铃就响了。从翻出书到铃响，中间只有三分钟。我在旁边写：没看成，因为开始得太晚。

第二天我提早开始。铃一响就拿出错题本，可是心还在刚才的游戏里，眼睛在字上，脑子是空的。翻了三页，一道题也没看进去，铃又响了。

第三天我干脆老实记录时间花在哪。结果发现，真正学习的时间只有四分钟，剩下的都花在准备学习上：找笔、找本子、决定先看哪一科，然后等心静下来。

妈妈看了我的记录，笑了，问我：你玩的时候痛快吗？我想了想，好像也不痛快。玩的时候心里惦记着没看的错题，错题没看，玩也玩得不安稳，两头都没落着。

那天晚上我改了办法。我不再等课间决定做什么，而是前一天晚上就定好：上午课间看数学错题第三页。我把那一页提前翻开，压在桌角。第二天铃一响，坐下直接看那道题，不用再经历准备这个过程。

效果出乎意料。时间一样多，可是开始的过程消失了，四分钟变成了九分钟。我在记录本最后写了一句话：课间最费时间的不是玩，是开始学习前的来回折腾。

同桌看了我的记录本，也学着定前一晚。他定的是语文课文，第二天课间读两遍。我们互相看对方什么时候坐下来，比谁先开始。这个比赛没有奖品，可我们都赢回了几分钟。

现在我还记着记录，内容换了：不记做了什么，记开始用了几秒。数字从两分钟以上降到三十秒以内。自我管理，我慢慢明白，不是把自己喊得口干舌燥，而是提前把路铺好，让时间一到，人就能走。

Three Days of Recess Records

In September, our homeroom teacher gave us a task: keep records of recess execution for three days in a row, writing down what we actually did. I thought it was easy. Three days later, my records were full of blanks and crossed-out lines.

The record of day one read: bell rings, chat, look out of the window, remember the mistake notebook, dig the book out, and the bell rings again. Between digging out the book and the bell, there were only three minutes. I wrote beside it: did not read, because I started too late.

On day two I started earlier. At the bell I took out the mistake notebook, but my heart was still inside the game we had just played. My eyes were on the words, my head was empty. I turned three pages and read in nothing, and the bell rang again.

On day three I simply recorded where the time went. It turned out that real study took only four minutes. The rest was spent on getting ready to study: finding a pen, finding a notebook, deciding which subject first, then waiting for the heart to quiet down.

My mother read the records and laughed, then asked: when you play, do you at least play well? I thought about it. Apparently not. While playing, my heart kept worrying about the mistakes I had not read, and the play was never peaceful either. I had lost both ends.

That night I changed my method. I no longer waited for recess to decide what to do. I decided the night before: during the morning recess, read page three of the math mistakes. I opened that page in advance and pressed it under the corner of my desk. The next day, at the bell, I sat down and went straight to that problem, without passing through the ritual of getting ready.

The effect surprised me. The time was the same, but the process of starting disappeared, and four minutes became nine. At the end of the record book I wrote one line: what eats the most time at recess is not play, but the back and forth before study begins.

My deskmate read the record book and started deciding the night before too. He chose a Chinese text, to be read twice at recess. We watched each other, competing over who sat down first. There is no prize in this contest, yet we both won back several minutes.

I still keep the records, but the content has changed: I no longer record what I did, but how many seconds starting took. The number has fallen from over two minutes to under thirty. Self-management, I slowly understand, is not shouting yourself hoarse. It is paving the road in advance, so that when the time comes, the person can simply walk.