She makes us line up in fours and everyone walks into the classroom like little lambs.
We all sit at desks with lids that open and close and we put our stuff inside them.
“I’m going to have to learn a bunch of anthems, because the teacher said that to be a good Brazilian
and a “patriot” we have to know the anthem of our land. When I learn it I’ll sing it to you, OK, Pinkie?”
And along came a world in which everything was new and had to be discovered afresh. “Hey, where are you going with that flower?”
The girl was clean and her schoolbooks had nice covers. Her hair was in plaits. “I’m taking it to my teacher.”
“Why?” “Because she likes them. And all hardworking girls should take flowers to their teachers.”
“Can boys take them too?” “If you like your teacher you can.” “Really?” “Yes.”
No one had taken a single flower to my teacher, Dona Cecília Paim.
It must have been because she was ugly. If she didn’t have a spot on her eye, she wouldn’t have been so ugly.
But she was the only one who would sometimes give me a tostão to buy a pastry at playtime.
I started peering into the other classrooms and all the glasses on the teachers’ desks had flowers in them. Only my teacher’s glass remained empty.
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