First grade

Her name was Rosalía. I think. I can’t be sure, but in my memory she will always be Rosalía. She was blond, with curls. Perhaps not particularly smart, the worst in the class? She sat next to me throughout the year. I don’t think we really became friends, though. Perhaps the problem was that she lived far away, in Barrio Jardín. Or perhaps the problem was that she was poor. Even now, thirty four years later that’s what I remember of her. My six-year-old assumption that she was poor – because she lived in Barrio Jardín and someone must have said it was a poor neighborhood. I went to her house once, for her birthday party. It was not a fancy house, but not so different from other houses closer to the centro. I remember that we played a game called palitos (little sticks). I don’t remember how the game went.
First grade finished and she did not come back for second grade. I never saw her again.
Why do I remember her?

My teacher for first grade (and second) was called Ana María Guerrini de De Battista. She was young, pretty, married. I remember writing down her name on my notebook, but that would have been in second grade. She was a good teacher, kind and patient. A segunda mamá, second mom – when I was little, at least, that’s how teachers were seen in Argentina. I don’t remember much about her, but when I think of her I feel warm inside. Perhaps it’s just the smile in her picture, it seems sincere.
I heard, some years ago, that she died. I just googled her name and I found her orbituary. She died in 2003, had two children and apparently many friends, for what I can see in the paper. It saddens me, of course.

There were five first-grade classes at my school, the Escuela Normal Nacional No 2 “Dardo Rocha”. Before school started we had to take a placement test and I apparently did not do very well, as they assigned me to 1o E. I looked at my test years later and, beyond being able to pronounce “Nabucodonosor” and cut straight, I didn’t do that badly. I would, in time, of course, show that I wasn’t the burrita my placement implied – but I was offended and humiliated at the time. Perhaps I still am.

For some reason I will never understand, the textbook for first grade (whose name I don’t remember after all these years) was out of print when I entered elementary school. I remember my parents’ efforts to find one. They finally were able to buy a used book, but it was already all written up. I was jealous of the kids that had new books.

The Escuela Normal Nacional No 2, or “Normal 2”, as we all called it, was, as the name implies, a “national” school, depending directly from the federal Ministry of Education. There were also provincial schools and private schools. National schools had the best reputation and you needed some pull to get in. In my case, my aunt Gladys had taught English at the high school part of the school for many years and was friend with the school principal. Once a sibling was in, the others were as well, but you needed to know someone to start. I wonder how Rosalia was able to get in.

The Normal 2 operated in what I believe had been a huge warehouse. It had two “pavilions”, huge buildings with classrooms opening to a large central court (covered). Between them there was another building, long and narrow, which hosted the classrooms for 6th and 7th grade. To one side of this building was the flag pole, to the other the “gymnasium”, really just an open court. There were three more wooden buildings beyond the second pavilion. There were patios here and there, a field that served for sports, and another paved area with store selling snacks and another selling school supplies. I am sure I’m forgetting something (like the lab? where was the lab?).
My first grade class was off the first pavilion.

Throughout my “career” at the Normal 2 (and I went there for 7 years), I had to carry several notebooks: the cuaderno único or main notebook, where all the real work went in. The cuaderno borrador, or practice notebook. The cuaderno de avisos, or notification notebook. And then there were the notebooks for the other classes. I also had to carry my reading book. With time, notebooks and books became very heavy, in particular given that backpacks did not arrive to Argentina until years later and we then used briefcases to carry our books. Calluses grew on my fingers and my mom would joke that I carried “rocks” to school.

We went to school from 1 PM to 5 PM. We had 5 class periods, separated by one long 15 minute break and three short 5 minute breaks, so in reality, we only had three and a half hours of instruction a day. And yet, my education in Argentina was so superior to the one I got in the States.
In addition to regular classes, we had (during school time) classes on Music, Drawing, P.E., Crafts and “Optional Activities”, the latter changed from time to time.

I learned to read and write in first grade. At that time, at least, children started first grade without knowing anything about letters. We started by making palotes, straight lines on paper. From there we moved to the letter “a” and later to “m” and so forth. We learned to read and write in cursive, print would not come until 3rd grade.

I have gotten back in touch with some of my school mates from back then through Facebook. Karina and Julieta, specifically. There was also María Marta, the two Silvinas, Ricardo (the troublemaker), Sandra, Adolfo and so many others. Most stayed in the Normal until 7th grade. Some dropped out, transferring to “easier” schools. Ricardo, Alejandro, Monica, Juan Jose. Should I write their last name, so they can find this post if they search for their names and thus find me, or is it a violation of their privacy?