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<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"29 November 2024<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Every weekday, since February, I've been diving onto the asphalt that leads to Favela da Pedreira. Sometimes body and thought move across the thick bitumen surface, sometimes thought moves alone along suspended paths. For many days, words appeared before the Sun. Moonlight was celebrated with gratitude \u2013 returning was always a doubt. The Sun was greeted with prayers and repeated requests: \u201cdouble the strength of the arm, don't let me go alone\u201d.<\/p>\n
Just like the girl in the red hoodie, I walked along the way. Anything could happen on the Botafogo Road. However, unlike the girl in the red hoodie, I was never alone on the way. Between stops, in the text and by bus, I went along as a body in the world, willing to make friends with wolves and meet grannies.<\/p>\n
Like someone who brings and carries news, I listened, took notes, observed, asked little so as not to lead the voice I heard. Eyes, ears and heart were attentive to the path. A fluid path, full of edges, crossroads and barricades. A place of intersection where the voice of the wind still speaks in the hearts of the children. We continued along the margins of the city of Rio de Janeiro, almost reaching Baixada Fluminense - the Pavuna region, where the school is located, is the boundary between the city of Rio de Janeiro and the city of S\u00e3o Jo\u00e3o de Meriti.<\/p>\n
On the margins of Rio, we can find a life pushed into invisibility. A life I wouldn't wish to any child. There was, however, so much enthusiasm for living that the stories lived on the margins were spread around in the pages of diaries.<\/p>\n
Ways of Knowing Diaries is a series of notes and thoughts. A tangle of speeches and narratives. It's a fabric made of wide smiles and hugs with short arms. And it is the reaffirmation of life and the claim for good living at school. I've heard that \u2018reaffirmation of life\u2019 is the new clich\u00e9. So be it! In a marginalised territory, marked by the early death of bodies and dreams, we greet life every day with reading, study, games, workshops and outings.<\/p>\n
The children at the Professor Escragnolle D\u00f3ria Municipal School gave me back my love of writing and of the classroom. With Cristine Taku\u00e1 I broadened the concept of classroom and had the courage to break away from the margins established by the curriculum. In general, the process of schooling deterritorialises within the territory. It leaves the child's identity in the background, determines what is important or not to know, determines what to eat, how to dress, it distances what is sacred and imposes new ways of life.<\/p>\n
The children and Cristine invited me to trust in life, to observe the treetops and listen to the wind. With them, I was a sumahuman, an ant and a bird. The Living School, expressed in the voice and gestures of Cristine Taku\u00e1, is a school for the strengthening of territory, a school of practices and sharing. The strength of a Living School lies in listening and awakening memories. Not being afraid to awaken memories is the greatest of all learning experiences.<\/p>\n
No Living School is the same as another, there is no intention of creating standards. The territory and the memories of life present in the many layers stored in the body of time, in the body of the earth and in the bodies-territories point to paths that need to be observed and understood.<\/p>\n
Nego Bispo says that \"when we confluence, we don't cease being us, we become us and other people \u2013 we yield\u201d.<\/p>\n
What you've read over the past few months were pages that yielded from a teacher's encounter with a wise woman who invited her to embark on a canoe trip. Each text here was preceded by water. From this side of the margin, I say goodbye with asphalt under my feet and water in my eyes.<\/p>\n
Awr\u00ea!<\/p>\n
See you next school year.<\/p>\n
<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
\u00c0 MARGEM DO RIO Veronica Pinheiro 29 de novembro de 2024 Todos os dias da semana, desde fevereiro, mergulho no asfalto que leva \u00e0 favela da Pedreira. Ora corpo e pensamento se deslocam pela superf\u00edcie de\u00a0betume espesso, ora o pensamento se desloca solit\u00e1rio por caminhos suspensos. Por muitos dias, as palavras surgiram antes do Sol. O luar era festejado com agradecimentos \u2013 retornar era sempre uma d\u00favida. O Sol era recebido com rezos e pedidos repetidos \u2013 \u201cdobra a for\u00e7a do bra\u00e7o, n\u00e3o me deixe ir s\u00f3\u201d. Tal qual a menina de capuz vermelho, segui estrada afora. Tudo poderia acontecer na Estrada de Botafogo. No entanto, diferente da menina de capuz vermelho, pela estrada afora, nunca fui sozinha. Entre pontos, no texto e de \u00f4nibus, seguia um corpo no mundo, disposto a fazer amizade com lobos e conhecer vov\u00f3s. Como algu\u00e9m que leva e traz not\u00edcias, ouvi, anotei, observei, perguntei pouco para n\u00e3o direcionar a voz ouvida. Olhos, ouvidos…<\/p>","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":6141,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[57],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-7530","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","category-diario-veronica-pinheiro"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n