CHILD-to-child 439
“Sure, I was afraid to go to school, at first,” said
Tomás. “And my mom and dad didn’t want to send me.
They were afraid kids would tease me or that it would
be too hard for me. It was grandma who talked us all
into it. She said if I couldn’t earn my living behind a
plow, I’d better learn to earn it using my head. And I
intend to.”
“What do you want to be when you grow up?”
asked one boy.
“Maybe a health worker,” said Tomás. “I want to
help other people.”
“Did other kids tease you when you started school?”
asked the children.
Tomás frowned. “No ... not much. But they didn’t
know what to do with me, so usually they didn’t do
anything. They would stare when they thought I wasn’t
looking. And they would imitate the way I talk when
they thought I wasn’t listening. But when they thought I
was looking and listening, they would pretend I wasn’t
there. That’s what was hardest for me. They never asked
me what I thought, or what I could do, or if I wanted
to play with them. I felt lonelier when I was with the
other children than when I was by myself!”
“But now you have lots of friends. You seem like
one of the gang. What happened?”
“I don’t know,” answered Tomás. “The other kids
just got used to me, I guess. They began to see that
even though I walk and talk funny, I’m not really
all that different from them. I think it helps that I do
well in school. I like to read. I read everything I can
find. Sometimes when kids in my class have trouble
reading or understanding something, I help them. I
like to do that. At first they gave me the nickname
‘Crabfoot’ because of how I walk. But now they
call me ‘Professor’ because I help them with their
lessons.”
“The first nickname was about what’s wrong with
you,” observed one little girl. “And the second is about
what’s right. I guess you showed them what’s most
important!”
Tomás’ mouth twisted into a smile and his legs
jerked with pleasure. “Tell me more about Julia,” he
said.
They told him all they could, and finished by saying,
“We tried as hard as we could, but Julia’s mother
doesn’t want her in school and Julia doesn’t want to
go either. We don’t know what to do. Do you have
any ideas, Tomás?”
“Maybe if I visit the family—with my parents. They
can try to convince her parents, and I’ll try to make
friends with Julia.”
The next Sunday, when Tomás’ father was not
working in the fields, Tomás asked his parents to go
with him to Julia’s home. They arrived in the early
afternoon. Julia’s mother and father, together with
the 2 younger children, were all sitting in the shade
in front of the hut. Julia’s father was sharpening an
ax while her mother picked lice from the children’s
hair. They all looked up in surprise to see the boy on
crutches approaching, followed by 2 adults.
The path near the hut was steep and rocky. A few
meters from the hut, Tomás tripped and fell. Julia’s father
ran forward to help.
“Are you hurt?” asked Julia’s father, helping him up.
“Oh no,” laughed Tomás. “I’m used to falling. I’ve
learned to do it without hurting myself... We’ve come
to talk to you about Julia. These are my parents.”
“Come in,” said Julia’s father. They all exchanged
greetings, and everyone went inside.
While Tomás’ parents were talking with Julia’s,
Tomás asked if he could speak with Julia.
“She’s outside,” nodded her mother, pointing to the
back doorway. “But she doesn’t speak to strangers.
She’s too afraid!”
“She doesn’t have to speak if she doesn’t want to,”
said Tomás gently, yet loudly enough so that Julia
could hear, if she was listening.
Tomás went out and found Julia bent over a
drawing in the dirt. She glanced up at him as he
approached, and then looked down at her drawing,
but without continuing it.
There were several drawings on the ground of
different animals, flowers, people, and monsters. Julia
had just been drawing a tree with a big nest in it and
some birds.
“Did you draw all these?” asked Tomás. Julia did
not answer. Her small body was trembling.
“You draw very well!” said Tomás, admiring and
commenting on each of her drawings. “And with
just a stick. Have you ever tried drawing with pencil
and paper?” No answer. Tomás continued. “I bet that
nobody in school can draw this well!” Julia, still staring
at the dirt, trembled and said nothing. Tomás also was
silent for a moment. Then he said. “I wish I could draw
like you do. Who taught you?”
Julia slowly lifted her head up and looked at Tomás,
or at least at his lower half. She looked first at his
disabled village children