Rural schools
On that autumn day I woke up very early. I was four years old, it was my first day at school and I was very excited.
I had been expecting that day all summer. Really, country life was a bit boring and I wanted to have new experiences, but at the same time, I was a bit scared. Luckily, my brother, who was four years older than me, took my hand and we walked the three kilometres from our house in the country to the school. I felt safe with him.
I had been expecting that day all summer. Really, country life was a bit boring and I wanted to have new experiences, but at the same time, I was a bit scared. Luckily, my brother, who was four years older than me, took my hand and we walked the three kilometres from our house in the country to the school. I felt safe with him.
The school was small. About thirty students of different ages shared a single class in the school of Manzanil, a small village near Loja. I remember I got used to class routines very quickly; We prayed in the morning and after that, our teacher Luisa Maria taught us to read, write and Maths. In the middle of the morning we went out of the school to have a sandwich and play. What I remember the best was when the oldest students helped the youngest in their homework. All pupils learnt and taught others.
Rural schools are special and lovely. That little building where I studied with its green painted windows and its big tree at the entrance doesn’t exist now. However, I believe that all the children’s laughter continue in the memory of those who luckily spent our first years of school at a rural school.
Inma Rodríguez Martin
3º CAL
