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<\/p>\n18 de junho de 2024<\/p>\n
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The school reading room resembles a library in terms of organisation and functionality. Books on shelves, divided by subject; large tables and chairs. A planned space that takes into account storage areas, activity areas and circulation areas. A few general rules are common in reading environments: enter only with the material you need to study; enter in a \"disciplined\" manner; keep your voice and gestures discreet so as not to disturb other readers.<\/p>\n
The first stories I learnt weren't from books kept on shelves. The first narratives and lessons I learnt came from Ms Cassiana's mouth, an elderly woman who used to sit on a wooden bench under a pepper tree, late in the afternoon, on the hill where I was born. To find out the end of a story, we sometimes had to wait until the next day or go after Ms Cassiana while she took care of the plants. She would bless the children and hold them in her lap while she prayed. It was a story-prayer, sung and choreographed with leaves. I remember looking for her one day and not finding her. I never saw her again. Shortly after Ms Cassiana's vanishing, the bench and the pepper tree disappeared. But the words told, sung and prayed are still with me today.<\/p>\n
Today, I'm the old lady who sings verses to children. This week, I went into the reading room and removed all the chairs. I also removed the tables and turned off the lights. And I lit my campfire in the middle of the room. On the floor there were mattresses, 15 copies of the same book and I was sitting there just like old Cassiana used to wait for me.<\/p>\n
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I learnt from Carlos Pap\u00e1 that the darkness welcomes everyone, making no difference between people. And it was in the dark of the room that we met grandparents' stories and shared care and kindness. \"What is this?\" \"A camp, don't you see?\" I followed their entrance with just my eyes and ears, and said nothing. \"Yes, it's a camp. Check out the fire.\" \"Let's sit down because it's dark and cold.\" It was 8am and it was 31\u00b0C outside the room. Inside the room, time and place were moving with no conventions.<\/p>\n
They sat in a circle. The first class I welcomed that day had 28 children present, most of them aged 8, and they were curious to find out what was going to happen. For the first action, they would form pairs of readers. I asked a student who already knew how to read to team up with a classmate who didn't yet know how to read. Once they were in pairs, they had to choose a corner in the reading room to read the story. Each pair cuddled up and hid in any way they could and wanted. They set up little huts and created burrows to read in. I told them that learning is a process in which everyone collaborates in whatever way they can. They took it upon themselves to look after their classmates. I watched as the listeners slowly slid down the mat until they were lying down to listen attentively to the words read by their friend. And unintentionally, at that moment we established another relationship with that floor. Every time we had laid down on the floor of the reading room, it had been to protect ourselves from shooting. For the first time, it wasn't fear that drove us to the ground. It was the earth teaching us to strengthen bonds. The class teacher entered thinking the room was empty and was surprised by the scene and the gestures. Sensitively, she left without being noticed.<\/p>\n
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Our second action was to sit round the campfire again. Now the story would be read by me and followed by everyone, each with a copy of the book in their hands. It was a solemnity, the flames of the LED fire warmed our circle. I began like this:<\/p>\n
\"S\u00f4nia Rosa, the book's author, dedicates this book to her two great-nephews: Phelipe de Oliveira Nunes and Vit\u00f3ria Oliveira Silva. I, Veronica, dedicate this reading to my students, who are sitting round the campfire with me.\"<\/p>\n
Os tesouros de Monifa\u00a0<\/i>\u00e9 a hist\u00f3ria de uma menina que, no dia de seu anivers\u00e1rio, foi escolhida para ficar com o \u201ctesouro\u201d de sua fam\u00edlia. Monifa era o nome da bisav\u00f3 da av\u00f3 da menina. Monifa chega ao Brasil num navio negreiro e escreve muitos di\u00e1rios cheios de sonhos, rezas e can\u00e7\u00f5es. Minha voz tentou acompanhar a solenidade do momento, mas meus olhos decidiram por si s\u00f3 regar a terra. N\u00e3o s\u00f3 os meus, mas muitos olhos regaram a terra naquele dia. \u00c0 medida que l\u00edamos, mais perto fic\u00e1vamos um dos outros. A roda logo se tornou um ninho. Uma m\u00e3o pequena e macia colhia as l\u00e1grimas que me saiam dos olhos para n\u00e3o molhar o livro. Outras m\u00e3os me amparam os ombros e as costas. Mais um par de m\u00e3os percorriam minhas tran\u00e7as.<\/p>\n
I don't remember ever crying in front of a class. At the beginning of the year, I was \"the auntie who comforted\" the children who cried during the adaptation week. In the middle of reading camp, I was looked after by the children who understood that, in the learning process, everyone co-operates as they can. So I started to receive care. I read the story and they read Monifa's notes.<\/p>\n
Around the campfire, sitting on the ground, we hugged each other at the end of the reading.<\/p>\n
Algu\u00e9m falou que no nosso acampamento s\u00f3 faltou uma coisa: \u201cmarshmallow\u201d. Outro acrescentou que faltaram duas coisas: \u201cmarshmallow\u201d e a mata. Antes que eu conseguisse formular resposta, Enzo, que parece nunca estar ouvindo o que falamos, disse: \u201cFaltou s\u00f3 \u2018marshmallow\u2019 mesmo, a mata t\u00e1 dentro da cabe\u00e7a.\u201d<\/p>\n
Monifa means \"I'm lucky\". Full of forest inside, I was the luckiest person in the world.<\/p>\n
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Photos: Wagner Clayton<\/em><\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" ONDE EST\u00c1 A MATA? EST\u00c1 DENTRO DO PEITO Veronica Pinheiro 18 de junho de 2024 A sala de leitura da escola se assemelha a uma biblioteca em organiza\u00e7\u00e3o e funcionalidade. Livros em prateleiras, divididos por assunto; mesas grandes e cadeiras. Um espa\u00e7o planejado e que leva em conta a \u00e1rea de armazenamento, a \u00e1rea de atividade, a \u00e1rea de circula\u00e7\u00e3o. Algumas regrinhas gerais s\u00e3o comuns em ambientes de leitura: entrar somente com o material necess\u00e1rio para o estudo; entrar de forma \u201cdisciplinada\u201d; manter a voz e os gestos em tom discreto para n\u00e3o atrapalhar os demais leitores. As primeiras hist\u00f3rias que conheci n\u00e3o estavam em livros guardados em prateleiras. As primeiras narrativas e li\u00e7\u00f5es que aprendi saiam da boca de Dona Cassiana, uma anci\u00e3, que ficava no final da tarde sentada num banco de madeira, sob o p\u00e9 de aroeira, l\u00e1 no morro onde nasci. Para saber o final de uma hist\u00f3ria, \u00e0s vezes, t\u00ednhamos que esperar o…<\/p>","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":4591,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[57],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-8127","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","category-diario-veronica-pinheiro"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n