One day I have helped a pupil to get into the tram.

The problem was not the child, but his

backpack, which weightened about thirty kilos. The smaller the children are, the more
difficult are the burderns they carry. In the tram , I took the pupil by my side and cast a look
into his little backpack. Inside it, there was a tiny pack of biscuits spread with marmelade,
half a thousand of iron scrap annually per pupil, 10 kilos of chestnuts , half a kilo of patriotic
poems composed by writers with serious deficiences in syntax, morphology, culture and
character, a bunch of family sour arguments, a bit of his grandmas pension, odour of
forgotten litter, smell of damp walls, literary analyses of some authors of handbooks
convinced that each analysis is more important that any writer, mathematical educational
failed experiments, pencils whose mine is running, a half-price commutation ticket, the
cheerless look of a father who has drunk till late at night, the empty look of a mother aged
after the first child birth, an unwoven scarf gotten from aids, the contribution list for the
painting of the classroom, for curtains and for the fridge that must be given/gifted to the tutor,
a pepper and a tomato auxiliary materials for the botany courses-, a ball for breaking
windows during the breaks, a notebook for the dull courses of a teacher who discusses
politics, some class notebooks made of fluffy paper at the price of a chop, the last seven
episodes of Dallas, the programme of the reform taught by the fat wife of the master, the
paper quota of the school fund, the history of a rape in a newspaper forbidden to children, the
story of a murder in a magazine for children, seven months of cold in an unheated flat, the
pill for spine pain and, indeed, the composition written along with my older sister on the topic
We are the future of the country.
TUDOR OCTAVIAN - GHIOZDANELUL