Following the publication of the previous post on the school closure Moal, and others have received an email from David, a follower of the blog, but mostly a childhood friend, whose permission has happened to transcribe:
"Jose, your interesting and accurate information about school Moal memory brought me this little story I wrote a day to remember. Everything about him is true, including Dorothy's what surprised me and visiting me in Corias taking me do not know what a gift. Just remember that trip. I vaguely remember it but for me, in those days was like going to America.
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| Current School Moa l |
Maybe we put too nostalgic with memories of our people but also a way to avoid die. A hug. David. "
The story that David sent me the following:
MY FIRST TRIP .-
It's all rather confusing and if posase on a balance of memories though, barely reach to three images in my memory. However, over time and with it thousands of experiences, could not erase from my mind and has not been replaced.
I would walk the 6 or 7 years and a young teacher, I think, replaced a larger one that used hazel rods and flexible tool to support the work of teaching, not always without reason, since the work of one person deal with thirty-odd students between five and fourteen years that will , as he did, that something is in our brains, well justify some extra help. But even that is safe and perhaps the facts were as the first teacher protagonist, which is of no importance for what will, but just in case, I will not detract from whom he received much criticism for its methods and character but on the other hand, I remember with great affection because I know he lived his profession with dedication, professionalism and care. So he showed me years later when he retired at the school I visited where I was studying and she, unknown to me then, had taken steps to provide my income. He had sensed that he could pursue their studies, which by then was not easy and did many things to be so. It is no longer possible but I would like to know that I remember with admiration and gratitude. As already said, one day, and retired by the school came and asked me and my performance. Just when we passed four words. Now I know why he did it and I know that was a TEACHER.
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| Three of the students present | Moal
Well was the first or second the fact is that the teacher organized a class trip of my people. It was in spring and was to visit the border town that is far from 2 to 3 miles up the mountain. For many of us was the farthest out of our houses we lived. The nerves, the excitement of the adventure and the change in routine was remarkable. Our mothers prepared us food for the day, which were transporting in a cloth bag sewn from scrap and which had hung over his shoulder, "the shearwaters." I could not remember what it was but the memory, though blurred, says it was glory.
The output was morning, fresh, and the road passed under the shade of chestnut and hazel trees, which they had. It smelled fresh and ran, we hid, we pretended to be small wild animals and we showed our fierceness with jumps, races and shouting.
remember the food next to a fountain in the middle of town visited (Oballe) and to my mind whenever I recall this event, goes the sound and transparency of that water. That's my most vivid memory, along with a full sense of joy. Sometimes I think also we went to the village school, nothing more.
Over the years, and often depending on my teaching profession, I have made trips to different places, some abroad. None of them has been able to approach the intensity of that in terms of emotion and survival. Its simplicity tells me a lot of the complexity and the simplicity of life and happiness itself. It helped me understand, to know why I am and I'm thrilled with that time simple and humble and will not, at heart, I yearn. When I analyze it and know me better understand why I distressed long trips, because I always want to go back to my village of 100 people, why I'm watching the same trees that have not changed in fifty years. Now I'm starting to see a man of small businesses, small gains , small towns, short trips ...
* I must admit that my memory is more fragile than I wanted and that my memories of the trip to Oballe are very vague and ambiguous, so anything I can contribute to that described by David. Proof of my "forgetfulness" is that the photographs of children Moal currently go to school, had copied them on a USB Flash Drive when I was in the village and in the previous post I was reminded of that fact, so now I take for posting.
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