Read Online A Faraway Island by Annika Thor - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Annika Thor
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Vera’s. If only Stephie were allowed to go to school, she’d see Vera every day and surely they’d become friends.
At dinner she tries extra hard to pronounce the Swedish words correctly. Hasn’t Aunt Märta noticed how much Swedish she has learned? As if she has been reading Stephie’s thoughts, Aunt Märta speaks up before she leaves the table.
“I was talking with Auntie Alma this afternoon. We think the time has come for you and Nellie to start school. You can’t just wander around all day long. I’m going to speak with the head teacher tomorrow, and I hope you’ll be able to start on Monday.”
The next morning Aunt Märta bikes over to the school. In the afternoon she tells Stephie she’ll be entering sixth grade.
“But I’ve already completed sixth grade,” Stephie protests. “Last year in Vienna.”
“You’re twelve, aren’t you?” Aunt Märta snaps. “So you will be in sixth grade with the other children your age. Where would you go if you weren’t? To the grammar school in Göteborg?”
After some time Stephie realizes that Swedish children start school at age seven, not at six as she did back home. Sothe children her age are in sixth grade, the final year of compulsory school.
Thinking about it, she sees it’s probably just as well to repeat sixth grade. She’s already missed nearly two months of the fall semester.
Besides, last year in Vienna she didn’t really learn very much. First her family had to move to the cramped room, and Stephie had to walk twice as far to school as before. In the crowded quarters, and with the noise of the other tenants, it wasn’t easy to concentrate on homework, either. Later in the year she had to change schools, when the Jewish children were no longer allowed to attend regular school.
The classrooms in the Jewish school were overcrowded, the teachers pale from exhaustion and worry. There were no gold stars for their exercise books.
The next day Aunt Märta goes to see someone and returns with a pile of schoolbooks. There’s a math book, a history book, a science book, an atlas, and a songbook. All are dirty and dog-eared, with the name Per-Erik penned in round, childish letters on the front page of each.
The books belonged to the same Per-Erik who is the youngest member of Uncle Evert’s fishing crew. He finished school two years ago. Now Stephie will have to use his old books. Aunt Märta even has a math exercise book with her, less than half full. Stephie stares at the books, blinking back her tears.
“Couldn’t I have a new exercise book of my own?” she asks softly.
“Hardly any of this one’s been used,” Aunt Märta tells her. “Finish it first, then you can have a new one.”
Stephie leafs through the roughly treated books. The spine of the science book is ragged. When she opens the book there is no resistance; it opens out like a broken fan. Some of the pages are loose. She remembers the feeling of opening a brand-new book: the way the spine won’t give when you try to open it wide, the smell of new paper.
“Don’t look so downhearted,” Aunt Märta scolds. “I don’t have money to waste on new books for your last year of school. Besides, you may not even be here for the entire school year. Old ones will do.”
They’ll do for me
, Stephie finds herself thinking.
Old, worn-out books will do for a foreign child. Old, worn-out books, not to mention an ugly, old lady’s bathing suit that will do for a refugee child who has to live off the charity of others. If Aunt Märta had a child of her own, that child would never be getting hand-me-down books
.
“Here,” says Aunt Märta, holding out a roll of brown wrapping paper. “Once you’ve covered them they’ll look much nicer.”
Auntie Alma goes all the way to Göteborg to buy school books for Nellie. Aunt Märta sends some money along to buy the things Stephie still needs: two more exercise books, a few pencils, an eraser, and a New Testament.
“You’ll have the
At dinner she tries extra hard to pronounce the Swedish words correctly. Hasn’t Aunt Märta noticed how much Swedish she has learned? As if she has been reading Stephie’s thoughts, Aunt Märta speaks up before she leaves the table.
“I was talking with Auntie Alma this afternoon. We think the time has come for you and Nellie to start school. You can’t just wander around all day long. I’m going to speak with the head teacher tomorrow, and I hope you’ll be able to start on Monday.”
The next morning Aunt Märta bikes over to the school. In the afternoon she tells Stephie she’ll be entering sixth grade.
“But I’ve already completed sixth grade,” Stephie protests. “Last year in Vienna.”
“You’re twelve, aren’t you?” Aunt Märta snaps. “So you will be in sixth grade with the other children your age. Where would you go if you weren’t? To the grammar school in Göteborg?”
After some time Stephie realizes that Swedish children start school at age seven, not at six as she did back home. Sothe children her age are in sixth grade, the final year of compulsory school.
Thinking about it, she sees it’s probably just as well to repeat sixth grade. She’s already missed nearly two months of the fall semester.
Besides, last year in Vienna she didn’t really learn very much. First her family had to move to the cramped room, and Stephie had to walk twice as far to school as before. In the crowded quarters, and with the noise of the other tenants, it wasn’t easy to concentrate on homework, either. Later in the year she had to change schools, when the Jewish children were no longer allowed to attend regular school.
The classrooms in the Jewish school were overcrowded, the teachers pale from exhaustion and worry. There were no gold stars for their exercise books.
The next day Aunt Märta goes to see someone and returns with a pile of schoolbooks. There’s a math book, a history book, a science book, an atlas, and a songbook. All are dirty and dog-eared, with the name Per-Erik penned in round, childish letters on the front page of each.
The books belonged to the same Per-Erik who is the youngest member of Uncle Evert’s fishing crew. He finished school two years ago. Now Stephie will have to use his old books. Aunt Märta even has a math exercise book with her, less than half full. Stephie stares at the books, blinking back her tears.
“Couldn’t I have a new exercise book of my own?” she asks softly.
“Hardly any of this one’s been used,” Aunt Märta tells her. “Finish it first, then you can have a new one.”
Stephie leafs through the roughly treated books. The spine of the science book is ragged. When she opens the book there is no resistance; it opens out like a broken fan. Some of the pages are loose. She remembers the feeling of opening a brand-new book: the way the spine won’t give when you try to open it wide, the smell of new paper.
“Don’t look so downhearted,” Aunt Märta scolds. “I don’t have money to waste on new books for your last year of school. Besides, you may not even be here for the entire school year. Old ones will do.”
They’ll do for me
, Stephie finds herself thinking.
Old, worn-out books will do for a foreign child. Old, worn-out books, not to mention an ugly, old lady’s bathing suit that will do for a refugee child who has to live off the charity of others. If Aunt Märta had a child of her own, that child would never be getting hand-me-down books
.
“Here,” says Aunt Märta, holding out a roll of brown wrapping paper. “Once you’ve covered them they’ll look much nicer.”
Auntie Alma goes all the way to Göteborg to buy school books for Nellie. Aunt Märta sends some money along to buy the things Stephie still needs: two more exercise books, a few pencils, an eraser, and a New Testament.
“You’ll have the
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