bezdna.su — the best quotes and jokes from the abyss!
This spring, my daughter went to an infectious hospital with a high fever. In the room for 6 people were gathered patients with the same symptoms. The age of the patients was the most varied, from 70 to 13. Among them was a girl clearly not Slavic appearance. My daughter is sociable, so I immediately met her. Her name was Rose, she is 17 years old and has two children. From the last fact, my child was very surprised. I told her that Rose was most likely a Gypsies, and they were used to get married early. She advised me to keep an eye on my things. But since tolerance to different cultures was instilled in school, I was naturally not listened to. The daughter said that all people are equal, and you should not think bad about a person in advance.
Rosa was a very sociable and responsive person. She told me what a good husband she has, that he works in the collage and earns a lot. The children are now with him, and her parents are not. Only often after her husband’s calls, she went crying to the toilet. Everyone in the room looked up. It turned out that the girl was not literate at all. She could only count. And with difficulty. She did not go to school, at all.
My child asked Rose to teach her to read and write.
Every day, she taught Rose literature for several hours. The girl swallowed everything like a sponge. Grandmothers lying in the chamber only wondered how fast the schooling was going.
Everyone in the room slowly recovered and went out. The Gypsies too. By graduation, she was able to read and write in print letters at the level of first grade. I thanked my daughter very much and wished her a lot of good. She promised to give her children to school when they grow up. Nothing is missing in the room.
A few days later, my daughter was released.
A week ago we met Rose at the bazar, with the children. Two girls, one baby. She stood with a sign on which it was written in uneven letters: "Padaite on papers." The daughter shouted and shrugged her hand, but Rose did not react. Maybe I did not know. The daughter said, “Look, Mom, she wrote it herself. Even with mistakes. I have not forgotten.”
We did not get closer.
Rosa was a very sociable and responsive person. She told me what a good husband she has, that he works in the collage and earns a lot. The children are now with him, and her parents are not. Only often after her husband’s calls, she went crying to the toilet. Everyone in the room looked up. It turned out that the girl was not literate at all. She could only count. And with difficulty. She did not go to school, at all.
My child asked Rose to teach her to read and write.
Every day, she taught Rose literature for several hours. The girl swallowed everything like a sponge. Grandmothers lying in the chamber only wondered how fast the schooling was going.
Everyone in the room slowly recovered and went out. The Gypsies too. By graduation, she was able to read and write in print letters at the level of first grade. I thanked my daughter very much and wished her a lot of good. She promised to give her children to school when they grow up. Nothing is missing in the room.
A few days later, my daughter was released.
A week ago we met Rose at the bazar, with the children. Two girls, one baby. She stood with a sign on which it was written in uneven letters: "Padaite on papers." The daughter shouted and shrugged her hand, but Rose did not react. Maybe I did not know. The daughter said, “Look, Mom, she wrote it herself. Even with mistakes. I have not forgotten.”
We did not get closer.