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Memoirs of a teacher "subversive", "Heart of Clay" Memoirs of a teacher

The photo that accompanies this article is on the reverse a date: 12/78 School No. 8, Ministro Rivadavia.
The school had returned to work as a teacher of grade after the kidnapping happened on vacation July 77 and seven months of the birth of my second daughter, born just nine months after being released from Pozo.
were difficult times, teachers' disappearances and abductions and conflict with neighboring countries since the genocidal army guys playing war with our soldiers had the luxury of exposing the lives of young people at that time complied with the compulsory military service. Coincidentally
remembering times far from my way through the education system to open a box in which memories of my friends (many of them militants like me) turned up this picture and I was reminded of the tragic moment that we were going to root the conflict between Argentina and Chile in the Beagle Channel.
One after another the names were drawn had become common in our conversations teachers and they had to do with Lennox Island, Picton, Navarino and one after another slid the events that occurred from the Arbitral Award recognizing Chile's sovereignty over the islands.
And I remember how we talked about Ms. Raquel Caballero (the lady who is in the middle) and that being the Director of the school No. 8 at the time we are oriented to convey to students the events that were happening to appease fear of a war that seemed inevitable between our country and the RCA in Chile. How
do to fan the fear of armed confrontation when the media broadcast the closure by the gendarmerie of the border with Chile?
How can students not to be afraid to listen to Jorge Rafael Videla threatening war if Chile did not change its position in the negotiations that were made?
I stared at each and every one of the nine teachers who worked in those days Ministro Rivadavia school and realized I was missing Nelly Secretary who, like Mrs. Rachel knew why I had passed and not only were supportive but were of the few partners that I saw as a subversive or guerrilla band (as was common in those days to tag the teachers who were "sucked" by the soldiers many times in the same school that came in trucks.)
Miss Rachel with his combed hair and clear eyes and his heart of clay.
A heart that adapt to all circumstances and it was shelter and it was wall and was home and was space in which the teachers could speak without fear of being betrayed or censored. Because

Miss Rachel was for us as an angel who watched over each and every one of the teachers under his supervision and that proved not to be afraid of the soldiers and trucks with armed soldiers who often visited the school.
Sometimes I wonder if the school will continue as in the days when white painted green and stood as a beacon guiding the children toward their teachers and their classrooms and their patio and blinds many times we walked down order of Miss Rachel believed that this was the best way to achieve that all of us not concentrate on our tasks.
in November 1984 when Argentina and Chile signed the TREATY OF PEACE AND FRIENDSHIP "I no longer worked at the school.
other destinations had brought me to the classrooms of other schools in the area.
I lived in the moments that will forever be engraved in my memory.
As these memories that came to me and they were trapped forever in the memory of this heart of clay it was my Head of School No. 8, Miss Rachel from the time I was still smiling.
as then.

Ever onward to victory

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Sayings For Butterflies

"subversive": "Jacaranda in bloom."

Jacarandas in bloom

Julio Lopez had disappeared. We had fallen
threats and the prosecution had put us in the door patrol home and Buenos Aires took turns to monitor our home.
At that time I worked as a professor of Human Rights and Citizenship in the Eemnes 2 of Burzaco and by that time despite the fear, despite the attacks, despite harassment by the school principal gave me away to their "superiors" because I believed, because he claimed that I was inventing chased me and threatened my children assaulted with a knife and styling record after record with the complicity of some co-workers who gave evidence of his mendacity, although it had completed the project "Bells for the Memory" with the presence Roberto Rivara Inspector who accompanied me on the project and at that point had been replaced by the inspector an unfortunate light Pompeii Serial liar and complicit in these teachers who lived the disappearance of Julio Lopez as many gorillas can live and rams Argentina populate teaching (or at least the teaching of my town) ...
Despite all these adverse circumstances we organized with mates for a march shouting the name of Julius rumble rumble or make the ears of many deaf and indifferent to what was happening.
And then we met in the Plaza San Martín de Adrogué place of concentration of the march.
A square dressed jacaranda flowers confused celestial heaven and earth and the cry seemed scattered on the tile floor and on the buildings and the station wagon which was passing the Quetros blowing its horn, in adherence to our claim . Only
Adrogué trade had the photo of Julio Lopez and held in the years since then sucedieorn. Then as if
jacarandaes bowed to our quest began to sing:
the east and west, rain and rain, a flower and a blue flower jacaranda ...

And that song from Maria Elena Walsch accompanied us during the march when we were shouting the name of Julius .
The floor of the plaza was covered with flowers and had that light blue lavender of jacaranda blossoms.
So we started to gather the flowers in our hands and pockets of the apron of the teachers who had attended and the many plastic bags they had and as we walked through downtown streets throwing Adrogue air we jacaranda flowers that fell like rain on the asphalt and sky above our heads and banners.
And the east and west of our people began to be populated and the many voices in chorus and sang in July wondered:

the east and west, rain and rain
a flower and a blue flower jacaranda-

And the cops on a motorcycle behind us began to be stained in blue because the bikes were holding flowers like uniforms.
And we were on patrol nearby began to pile jacaranda blossoms on their roofs.
It happened that the people dressed as flowers that afternoon when we pulled into the air while singing flowers falling as celestial swabs. Julio López
never appeared.
And here in this absence that is repeated each year, the blossoms return to the trees of the Plaza and begin to rain from the branches to put on the floor of the stall and fall like snow purple reminds us that despite the time we ask for Julio López

the east and west, rain and rain
a flower and a blue flower jacaranda


Heaven on
path is drawn with foam and tissue paper ...
jacaranda

to victory always

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Mission District Murals, San Francisco, USA.

Photo Special report.

art and murals in the neighborhood have become an icon of American resistance that refuse to remain removed from the Mission. make hundreds of murals the most concentrated collection of murals in San Francisco, some of them spectacular.

The creation of murals in this place began in the mid 70's as a sign of the indignation of the artists for the violation of human rights abuses and political repression in Central American dictatorships.

Today the murals contain variety of topics from the gentrifying aging society and natural tragedies, wars and migration.

precisely this rapid development of art and culture has meant the displacement of local people which is marked by a Hispanic character, there are works that have historically expressed their dissatisfaction with the stigma of Latinos and there are efforts in different artists inherit this legacy of resistance, different artists over the years who have worked together to provide different subject to the Mission.

Here is a film about two young graffiti artists of the mission where you can also see the penalty for the authorities to this activity.

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Industrial Zone Artistic disputed. Curse you Baldizon

this area is a reflection of a growing movement of young artists in the industrial heart center Guatemalan act and intervene to stop there permanently embodied identity.

twelve area more specifically Athanasius Tzul road is the scene only since a few years for various expressions juveniles are played the walls of the industrial zone in Guatemala.

an industrial zone which houses a large number of people exploited in the garment industry seems to be oblivious to the messages of young artists.

Similarly much of the working population sample unknown rebel Indian leader Athanasius Tzul. Quiche leader credited with Lucas Aguilar led an indigenous uprising in San Miguel Totonicapán, in July 1820. the cause of this rebellion was against the payment of taxes

Athanasius Memorial Tzul

One of the workers said they know who is the leader of the Quiché and content or meaning of the paintings. Many times we find that the walls are painted but "... by the rush of the little factory we are interested ..." concludes with a smile.

for his companion (who likewise refused to be photographed) "... is nice, but do not understand ..." is irrelevant.

This photograph was taken in Zone 1. the work is "Dope"

for artists as "DOPE " creations are individual and there are codes of ethics for the respect of other interventions, although these disputes often begin with spot over other works.

all photographs were taken on the road Athanasius
Tzul

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Memoirs of a teacher "subversive": The Teachers' Statute authoritarian

many schools I went through when I was a teacher and had many directors who took the book of teachers to write reports on the notebook was an insolent, that he lacked respect for authority, ridiculed the superiors who I scoffed at the orders of the superior ...
knows how many things written in my book reports because for certain directors and certain Inspectors (especially for the Inspector Sara Juliano) I was a rebellious teacher, would reply, that altered the peace and order that should reign in the school environment in the educational community and all that apparently had to do with education. Synthesizing
I was a rebellious, an insubordinate and all terms that the authoritarian Statute of Teaching in store for teachers like me who were not submissive sheep and licked his butt to the Provincials and foundations judicious sense determinations were when you were not in accordance with the orders issued by the Superior.
usually never agreed with the orders coming down from La Plata.
agreed not to point out to colleagues who were active, or rat out who gathered outside the school for union meetings, or fail to bring to the classroom books Paulo Freyre, or stop talking about the theology of liberation and burning protest books and blacklists, and for not reading the script to military related to how you could spot a subversive and ... ..
children in the classroom must be quiet, was the motto of that time and the teachers should seek to adhere strictly to the planning stately, say little or nothing of what was happening on that subject that walked reporting on teachers disappearing.

But it turns out I was then very young, and wore my brand new white coat against children restless, inquisitive, cheerful, curious
as children, as must be the children ...
And little fleas have always had me sent directly to the front and long to the Director or the Inspector the sentence then I could hardly be investigated, pre-Summary appointed teachers and all those herbs.
That was not a Church School starting grid as loose body.
And there was the matter left paying
Because Mrs. Director with your request for quiet room and quiet children.
Bold, insolent were my words to the ears of Mrs. Head. I never liked
silent classrooms.
For me that was not that SILENCE IS HEALTH

What happens that they are so quiet? If you happen upon entering the classroom my students stood in silence.
school children of my youth were children hit by hunger and misery.
And the hunger and misery produced in the child assault.
Children do not mean that they are hungry and poor.
Children want to be equal to all children ... Same
those children with mothers films beautiful, with perfect families, with protective parents. Same
children from the movies
eaters every day and waiting for her parents and slept in their beds warm.
Children who were my students in the school of my youth were chaste as are all children.
Children who were my students fainted because they had not eaten and came
late because they had fallen asleep.
and had bruises on his back because (according to them) had fallen into the creek.
Children who were my students locked in silence their children suffer and their dramas.
Then I who loved children and loved school and loved teaching.
Then I learned to find that my students were late because they came to work selling teddy bears to help his mother and his brothers

fainted because they were starving. Because of hunger
also dies
had not fallen into the river but had been beaten by his father with a belt, as was fashionable at that time of my youth.
And I learned these miseries of human life because it could be a teacher with the soul.
And the soul is not aware of silences, cheating or lies.
The soul is connected, it opens up, tears down walls, destroy mountains.
feelings say When I say soul, I say commitment, solidarity say, I say love, say touch, I mean tears and emotions.
I say: I am to listen, to understand you, to help to know what happens to you, to be interested in what happens to you as a person ...
I say ...
you to listen, to know what happens to me, to help discover yourself and discover in the act of taking a man to the other and break the walls of silence.
That we depart, we isolated and do not let us know
you suffer.
are you sad.
who have problems.
do I have problems.
do I have joy.
When it was my youth and when I became a mature woman kept arguing that the school is not a CHURCH

Schools want to be perfect and harmonious ... Directors
And ladies still want quiet classrooms. Perhaps
different views

Or maybe different ways of living and feeling life?


Ever onward to victory PDTA:
(Marta Margarita Mastrángelo, always in my heart until the last day of my life)

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Memoirs of a teacher "subversive": "With perfume scents of lemons and oranges," Memoirs of a teacher

is the dawn of January 1, 2011.
already was in 2010.
left behind, became a memory more like so many memories that are piling up as the calendar pages end.
Fireworks have drawn the night with artificial stars and after the toast, custom or tradition to eat a piece of pan dulce
But, no fresh bread bought at the markets but the sweet bread prepared after the long walk to the yeast dough begins at the home of a neighbor or a coworker.

Then I remember.
remember the mass and the smell of yeast and ceremony almost secret of owning a portion of future happiness, which is foreshadowed when the yeast increased the size of the estate and opened in many panetones
A mass that went from family to family and grow over time gave way to " homemade panettone kneaded with love and a mysterious locked mystery of thinking that just made this sweet bread was to bring happiness and fruitfulness of the family who elaborated its mass
While at school I remember it was Barrio Lindo Liliana responsible for approaching the yeast dough, divided into portions for the manufacture of panetones then shared with our students.
was the school kitchen where meeting in which we gathered when turn to be free of charge to control the recesses of the patio and the entrance of the students could share a Matte between leisure and recreation.
And it was the school kitchen where you secrets and gave us problems in the daily work of our solution works were
Each of us contributed what he could.
grapes, candied fruits, dried fruits
and cans of sweet potato to the School Board sent to the picnic the kids, we, the teachers then we placed the piece of dough and we got the gift receipt that rejoiced the heart of each of the children in our charge.
And it was seeing the enjoyment of cooking in the oven

And it was the enjoyment of being the first to try it.
And it was the enjoyment of the scent of lemon oil and orange hanging around the classroom and the schoolyard.
And it was the enjoyment of knowing that our students were happy with these trifles, these displays of love to reach the end of the school they lavished their teachers.
Time has passed and eventually became attached to these habits my habits a little each day to give me to help with the divine experience of delivering the soul, the heart. feeling through the chalk, the board and those panetones scented lemon essences and oranges.
more like a memory leak so many memories that if you happen to close the calendar and the sky explode in someone colored stars on a portion of "panettone" to start the new year with all the luck and all the happiness you always hope the beginning of another journey that starts.

Ever onward to victory