The graduation time

The end of 2007 all my high school colleagues were very sad, because it was time to move foward…Was this a sad time? Or it was a time to enjoy a lot?

 

            People behavior changed from people to people, some of my colleagues were scared of their future without the school and others were much excited that couldn’t even thing about the dimension of that moment, and could only thing about the new changes that were coming.

 

            I was also sad, because the other step would be one by one, and everybody that were studying with me for a long time, from that moment would be on their own. But I include me in the ones that were excited, and for me the happiest moment was about to come, I would complete my so expected majority, for me it would be my scream for freedom.

 

            This period is important and unforgettable in everybody lives, because is the first big change in a teenagers life, no matter where you live, in the USA the students make their SAT, in England, Where would you prefer to go Cambridge or Oxford ? In Brazil we have the tests that are called “vestibular”, nobody can forget about it.

I was 17, and for me this was the most stressed  time, it was the time when people expect from you more than you could really show and when you can feel frustrated or realized from what you accomplished or didn’t.

 

            I was in doubt of two universities of engineering, both of them are well qualified, but my sister already studies in one and this fact was decisive in my choice. Because I knew that studying in the same university as my sister I won’t explore and make new friend I would only stay with her and her friends. But even thinking about it, I was still in doubt, because maybe it could be cool to stay with your sister as my whole life before. So in the beginning of the courses I’ve frequented both of them, to make my choice with no regretting later.

 

In the end I decided to study in the university which my sister does not study, and I am sure I made the correct choice. I feel very happy and independent.

 

The Day I Became a Super Hero

From my brother’s marriage I got a nephew called Fernando. He’s just four, but he seems more intelligent than many adults I know. As my brother is divorced, we don’t have a constant companionship, but we can easily notice how much he develops in couple days. He gets bigger, smarter and more and more loving.

Once, I passed almost a month without seeing him, and when it happens, I miss him a lot. When he’s at my home everything changes: he colors the entire environment with his laugh and toys scattered for the living room. That day we met, my mom promised taking him to the Shopping Mall. My parents and my brothers were ready to go out when suddenly, I figured out I’ve forgot my wallet. I went upstairs heading to my room when I hear – ”Ant Drika… Wait for me!”. As I look behind, Fernando is just following me, trying to go upstairs faster, but his legs were so small that he couldn’t run.

- Hi, dear! Why are you here? Just wait me downstairs, I’ll be there in a few minutes!

- No, I’ll be here waiting for you! Won’t you go to the Shopping Mall with me?

- Of course I will! Look, I’m here just to take the wallet I for…

And before I could finish what I was saying, he embraced me and said ”I love you, ant Drika… and I missed you so much!”. I was paralyzed because that and questioned myself if I did deserve so many love and respect. Fernando has grown up more than I could imagine, he was able to demonstrate love in a simply and voluntary way. More than this, the moment he hugged me I could feel all the responsibility I had because him, not just being a relative, but as a role model, to be someone that he’s proud of and try to imitate all steps in order to be the same.

This happening made me reflect about how many super heroes we had and how many times we get disappointed discovering that super heroes don’t exist… but when YOU are a super hero to someone, the fear of failing disappear. You incredibly get stronger. From that day untill now I can accept any kind of responsibility just to make Fernando smiles.

Old new lesson

           Excitement, fear and satisfaction are some feelings that match with a lot of situations of our lives. Most of these moments has something to do with new experiences. Entering the university is surely a chapter linked to these sensations, it’s all about getting into a whole

Something completely normal for every middle-high class young adult who has barely even reached maturity. Once in a while, the healthy and painful process of growing might be a little more difficult then it seemed before.(before when? maybe if you explore better this “before” you can explain better what you mean) Almost every person with their twenty years should already have (have already) passed for (trough) frustration in relationships, however, something curious is the ability (maybe an other word to describle it better because I think it’s not an ability)) that humans have of “deleting” these lessons and repeat(ing) the same mistake(s).

Such ability rendered bad regressions to(on) my mind. We all know that it’s impossible to maintain deep friendships with a lot of persons for a long time, yet, the happiness and joy (happiness and joy are adjectives very close, maybe you can keep one of them and change the other to make your description “richer”.) of joining a course in the university that you wanted, could be blindful. In fact, by (I would take this BY off) being in the same area that we choosed it’s acceptable to consider very close the kind of interests of our new colleagues with ours, which, by the way, doesn’t mean that necessarily these persons (maybe these persons can be changed by THEY, then your phrase will avoid using PERSONS and PEOPLE to close to each other) will be good people. Well (I think that WELL is to informal to an essay), guess what,(the same comment to guess what) there was our incredible desire to believe in fairy tales covering the reason again. Soon I would discover that all these new best friends would turn to three or four, the majority of the others into something almost like enemies, due to the mutual fake respect that we had for each other and the rest simple colleagues. (maybe you could explain better your feelings. how did they turned almost enemies?)

I’m not meaning all people met in the university in the course, but the first big group formed there (maybe you can take this THERE out) as friends after the firsts weeks of integration. Maybe it could have been a lack of maturity from my part, though I am (was) neither the only nor the youngest who felt this way. Besides, after some reflection of this fact a new way of seeing this (it) was available (maybe you can choose a different word instead of AVAILABLE. this word sounds weird when you want to express a feeling or a new point of view). This situation is quite different from the old high school conflicts (how were the conflicts at high school. maybe you can compare them), now we can see people whose character is in the last period of development, and consequently, might really be bad persons or, at least, really don’t fit with us.

It might not be something that caused many harms or traumas to anyone around our faculty world, but surely it’s a lesson, liking or not, soon most of us is going to work for the first time, better already knowing how to choose who to trust than broking the face. (this paragraph is too long. I think it could be better explained if you divided it in two phrases or more)

An unforgetable night

    It was July, 2005, and I was in Bournemouth, south of England, spending a month to study the country language. I was on a big group, with 30 friends and a teacher.

 One day, my friens and I were in a disco, named Opera House, the most famous disco of the town. The night was incredible, the music was amazing and the company was awsome. We danced and swinged a lot the ecletic hits of black music, eletronic, psy, and even Brazilian ones, such as Ivete Sangalo and Banda Eva. We also tried the variety of drinks and mixes of a foreign country. We met different people from other cultures and also made new friends. We enjoyed each second and we didn’t want to go home, because everything and all the details were new. However, as we were staying in host family, the mothers had imposed that we should be at home at 2:00.

   When we went out, it was windy and raining a lot, and we needed to get a taxi. So, tried to look for some cabs, but we couldn’t find anyone. Our clothes were totally wet and we were kind of lost. Seeing our situation, a strange man came trough our direction. He seemed to be 30 years old and his accent seemed to be from the arabia. His face wasn’t unkown, because he was also  the disco. He wanted to know if we needed a taxi, and asked one for us, because he had the number of the taxi center.

   While we were there waiting , we stared to talk with the strange man. So, the taxi arrived and my friends and I entered in it. However, suddenlly, the muslin man oppened the doors car, asking if he could go with us, due to his house was in the way of ours. At this moment , we felt something strange, since he didn’t know where we lived. But he begged a lot, and we agreed. In the way home he wanted to know all about our lives, such as where do we live, and what do we do. I was so nervous and frightened, that I wanted to arrive the fastest in my house, because it was the nearest one of the disco. About 15 minuts had passsed, and arrived home.When I left the car, I saw that the odd man also had dropped out it. He began to follow and then I asked:

” What are you doing here?”.

“I want to stay with you!”. The strange man added. This tme, my heart went out of my mouth . He was totally crazy. Fortunatly, the cab was in front of my house, waiting this scene to finish.  I said to him that he should go home and to leave me alone, because if he didn’t I would call the police. Finally, he agreed , but he wnated to know where my school was, because he was going to wait me in front of the school gate the day after. Of course, I lied to him the name of my school. As result, he went away.

  So, my parents have always taught me not to talk with strangers ,that I have to be aware, avoid being innocent, because  part of the word is made of strange , psycopatic and bad people. I never cared a lot about this advices until this incident happen. Now I understand their worries, I see that we are vunerable beens and that something worse could have happened at that night.

Who are you gonna live with?

            Until that day, I had never thought about whom I prefer the most: my father or my mother. Until that day, I had always said what the bulk of sons would say: I like my parents in the same way. Until that day, I had never intended to live alone. That day was a weepy Saturday morning, in March of 2007, when my dad told me that he and my mother decided to divorce. It took almost one year to my father find a new home. And last week was my turn: I moved in an apartment with my mother and my brother. And now I have a fly in the ointment, once I need to choose who I’m going to live with: mom or dad.

            To solve this problem, I decided to find out what are some flaws of each of my parents and where I will be more comfortable and happy (can you suggest me a better way of choosing between the two people you love most?). Well, let’s start with my mother: I’ve been arguing a lot with her since my father left home, in January of 2008. I don’t know exactly why, but I think we are very different. And out of these differences, I often get stressed with her way of life. And I assume she gets too with mine – she is an easy-going person and I’m an uptight guy. For instance: she is not working nowadays, and I usually get worried about how is she going to pay her bills. Yeah, I know that I shouldn’t concern about this. After all, she is my mother, and not the opposite. Another pitfall is that she is already dating, what makes me uncomfortable. I’m not against dating, or getting married after a divorce. The thing is I’m not ready to see a guy without shoes on my sofa watching TV in my living room.

And what about my dad? Well, my father is a role-model for me. My grandfather died when he was too young and he experienced some bad situations after that. However, he was able to get over those tough moments and now he is a very successful man. Is he perfect? No, absolutely. He is very stressed – and I think sometimes I get more stressed when I’m with him. He also likes to eat fat food, which I don’t. And he is a little tight-fisted; thus, he doesn’t have a maid every day and I have to order some junk food when I have dinner at his apartment. And here is the worst thing: he can’t stop hugging me when we are together! Last Tuesday I was lying with my dad in his bed when I caught myself thinking: I used to be more exigent. In the past, I wouldn’t feel comfortable in a small and cold apartment, with ugly furniture and no food. But now, I think I need nothing, but my father, to be happy.

Although I prefer to live with my father, it’s not a breeze decision. Actually, I don’t know how to do it and neither if I should. It is hard to me not to see my father daily, hearing his voice just through the phone, not laughing together as we used to. But I have my mom, and I can’t just leave her alone. And I think she needs me. In addition, I have my young brother. Have you noticed how I care about the others, especially about my family? I’m always thinking if they are fine, if they need something… and if I notice that something is wrong, I want to meet them immediately. Well, I definitely think I should be more self-centered. Thinking on your own is not a good thing. However, it is necessary in some cases. I can’t anymore spend my days worrying if my parents are fine, if my mom will be able to contend with her bills, if my brother will keep up with his grades or if my dad is eating fat food. So, I think that whatever I decided to do, I need to think on my own, what will be the best for my future, where I will feel more comfortable and emotionally good. Otherwise, I will never be able to move on and get over my parent’s divorce.

When it DOES happen to you

(Rick, I guess I wrote too much… I really need to work on it)

 

All the reasonable thoughts, all the inner strength, all the words and thoughts of support; it’s just entirely different when it happens to you.

 

 Considering that my father left home for good when I wasn’t even born (taking all the money with him and leaving my mom and I with only the small apartment we had) and that for ever since we scarcely have news about him I was raised by my grandparents once my mother had to work hard to be able to provide us a truly home.

Because of that, I always had, in my grandpa, also the best father ever (the one I’ve never had). He was the first one who saw my first steps; my first milk tooth beginning to grow; he was patient enough to teach me how to tie my shoes; if I wanted to, he would play with me flat-out, until I get tired and fall asleep; he was the male image of a hero to me.  I don’t even have to say that I love him above everything and everyone else and the relation we have is the strongest. Due to that, now that I’m grown, it’s my turn to take care of him in anyway he comes to need. It never passed through my mind that it would come a day when things would get in a way that I wouldn’t be able to do a thing to help him.

It was a warm afternoon of 2006, my mother and I went to my grandparents’ house to watch what would be the last game Brazil played in 2006 World Cup. When the game was over, my grandpa couldn’t believe Brazil had lost. He was visibly upset and angry so he went to his bedroom to finish the painting he was doing so as not to keep thinking of that. Once I hate sports – especially soccer – I went to the computer.

Suddenly I noticed an agitation in the corridor; my mother was running back and forward asking for my grandma. I felt she wasn’t thinking straight because she was shaking her head in sign of rejection; she was disheveling her hair in an attempt to send that sensation away along with those thoughts; she was calling for my grandma in a tearful and desperate way. I had never seen my mother acting like that before. At my eyes, she was always the most “good sense” one in the family, who would manage any situation with balance. I was scared. My heart was beating so fast that I could feel it’s pulsation in my chest. My hands started to tremble and a cold sweat took over my body. I wanted to go out of the office room (where the computer was) to see what was going on but, in the other hand, I was too fearful to do anything. And I wouldn’t be able to leave the room anyway because I felt like I was attached to the ground; my legs were too weak to sustain myself.

So I started to sing a song to focus my attention in anything else and I kept repeating the song even louder when my mother started to talk to my grandma. It didn’t work out very well so I heard part of the talk. Actually, right at that time, I didn’t know exactly what it was but I heard her saying something about my grandpa health. For a moment, I stopped listening to the conversation. I looked around at my grandpa’s office and my eyes paused in the pictures at the wall; there were at least 10 photos and they were all of my grandpa with me in different ages. I felt butterflies in my stomach and at the same time I was felling kind of nauseated.

So I left the room. My mother and grandma were both in his bedroom so I stood at the doorway. My grandpa was at his bed; helpless, unconscious, fainted. He had had a hemorrhage (derrame). From that moment on to the rest of the night, nothing that I saw was clear. My vision immediately got obfuscated by the tears that would roll down my eyes at any time. I went to the living room and sat at the couch. My mind stopped working, I was in shock. I don’t know for how long I stood there but at some point my mother went to see me. He had woken up. He was back. However, his conscience wasn’t. The hemorrhage made his memory die away. He didn’t remember a thing. He didn’t remember my grandma, my mother, his bedroom, his house. I could hear him screaming in desperation repeating sentences like: “Who are you?” “Where am I?” “This is not my house, this bedroom it’s not mine!” “WHERE AM I?” “WHO ARE YOU?” And suddenly, in the middle of all that questions, I heard: “Where is my angel? Marina! Where is she?”. I was the only thing he remembered. He hadn’t forgotten me. My hero was back, and he knew who I was. I burst into tears, even more than before. I had to help him.

My mother called the ambulance but she was weeping so much that it was pretty impossible to understand the very few words she was able to say. I took the phone and after answering those protocol questions about how exactly he was and what was the house address, the woman sent an ambulance. My mother was lamentable at the floor crying like a baby. My grandpa had just passed through many surgeries because of a cancer and she was afraid that his hemorrhage had something to do with that. So my grandma told me to call a friend to talk to me and make me feel better. I called my best friend who started to say beautiful things to help me stop crying but it wasn’t working out. I hanged up and started looking at the window. I started to sing the same song I was singing earlier (Radios in Heaven) and tried to calm down and stop crying.

            It turned to be impossible when I heard the sound of the ambulance getting closer. Somehow it made the situation more dramatic. The doctors came, the examination happened in my grandpa’s bedroom and there was no precision in the diagnostic. They just said that his memory would come back with time. My grandpa didn’t stop asking to see me. So after the doctors left, I was less scared with the whole situation and enter his room for the first time. The sparkle of his eyes was almost none, his face showed an agony and torment expression that came to a weak smile when we saw me. I hugged him. I realized he was as fragile as precious. My hero was human after all. Even he has bad days. I was with him and that was all that matters. My mother showed me for the first time that it was OK for strong women to cry. My grandma proved how strong she was. After this day, I see everyone of my family in a different and more respectable way. Their behaves is also different now. We all changed. We now know how important we are to each other.

So I guess that’s it: people change, world vision’s change, but the fact remains there. And no matter what, it is something that will never leave my mind. The sound of the ambulance’s siren, my mother’s disbelief appearance, the noise of my grandpa silent cry: that night became one of the most unforgettable moments of my life.

Words that can change your life

It all started with a simple cough, which worsened to a bloody cough and ended with a devastating diagnosis: lung cancer and 6 months of life.

This was the death sentence my father heard from his physician in 2002.

I wonder what were my father’s thoughts after receiving those words. At that time, he used to live in Londrina – Paraná, where he ran a business, on his own. Receiving the cancer diagnosis is already difficult; however, facing it alone, was even worse.

The first feeling might have been a mix of shock, disbelief, fear, uncertainty, sadness, anger, confusion and depression. No one is ever ready to hear they have cancer. Although my father always knew the risk of smoking, he never thought it could ever happen to him. “Why me?”, “Why didn´t I realize the symptoms earlier?”, “Why didn´t I stopped smoking many years ago?”, “How will be the treatment? Will it worth the suffering and pain?”, “What about my future plans and my dreams?”, “What can I do in 6 months?” and “How should I tell my family?”.

The first person my father talked to was my mom. My mother is the strongest person I´ve ever seen. However, on that day, she cried. She told my brothers and me about the diagnosis and how we should stay together to help my father deal with that.

I couldn´t think rationally: I was in shock… One thousand things were passed through my mind: anger, fear, disbelief and grief. “Why my father?”, “Why didn’t we demand my father to stop smoking or having a medical appointment earlier?”, “Why 6 months?”, “What should I tell him?” and specially “Why shouldn’t I spent more time with my father when I had the opportunity?”.  

Accepting the diagnosis and figuring out how the cancer would fit into our lives was challenging, mainly for my father. When you know someone you love is going to die and you can not do anything, you feel hopeless, useless and weak.  

My father’s first reaction was to isolate himself from the world. He did not speak one word for a long period of time. We did not want to interfere in his privacy, which he was entitled to. After some months, my father realized that coping with his own mortality and the demands of cancer meant looking more closely to his personal and family values and what was important in his life. He realized that he could not struggle with the cancer alone: he decided to ask for support.

After facing the lung cancer, my father also faced a brain cancer metastasis in 2004. He underwent 2 surgeries, 10 chemotherapy sessions, 30 radiotherapy sessions and countless visits to his physicians. Recently, my father was considered cured from both cancer and the 6-month period of life was postponed for some years more…

            The cancer was overcome not only by my father, but also by all my family. We learned to look after the people we love and that staying together can make us stronger. One will only realize how much a person is important, when they discover they could lose the loved one. Additionally, we realize that your presence is also a way to show your support for the person you love.

That words stated by the physician changed my family’s life: firstly, in a shocking, but good way; otherwise, we would never discover how strong and united my family could be.

From law student to a car wash employee

A few years ago, when I was less than 18 years-old and soon after I entered in Law School University, I was invited to go to the United States of America by an old high school friend, whose family was moving to there.

In my friend’s family there are basically air pilots and air force workers, in which includes my friend Pablo: a young air pilot. Their move to the United States of America was related to my friend’s job opportunity as a private pilot in Florida.

By the way, I met this friend when he was living in Sao Paulo for a short period of time, almost a year to be exactly, when we have studied together in a traditional Spanish school named Miguel de Cervantes. As his family was formed by air pilots, it was very common to them to move around the globe, for example, before Sao Paulo, he lived in France and China, eventhough his birth place was Rio de Janeiro. 

When we have finished high school, we lost contact. Maybe for the opposite way we decided to take in. He got his air pilot license and I entered in the Law School University. For my surprise, however, he found out my phone number and has invited me to spent two months with him in Florida. 

At that time, I was already a law intern in a huge and important Brazilian firm of law, which has also an associated office in New York, for what speaking English was so fundamental to my career and, of course, visiting him in Florida would fit exactly into my plans of studying abroad. 

Because of that, what seemed to be a job opportunity to my best friend was, at the same time, a unique chance for me to study English. This chance was even best considering that I would have a place to stay during my vacation. 

I didn’t think twice. He invited me almost in October, and I would have only few weeks to get a tourism visa, to buy the ticket and find some money to spent in my vacation, which was in November. It was almost impossible to save money from the law trainee salary. On the other hand, I couldn’t loose this unbelievable opportunity. 

I asked my boss for vacation, bought a one way ticket flight to Miami and changed my last payment into dollars – a little bit more than 100 dollars. I was extremely excited with this trip: first time traveling alone, visiting my best friend and studying English, regardless of the risk of not having enough money to buy the flight ticket back or even to pay the daily costs.

I arrived in Miami and my friend picked me up on the airport. We went to their house in Fort Lauderdale, one of the richest city of Miami, known as the “Venice of America”, due to its expansive and intricate canal (an artificial channel for waters), in which people from the upscale society left their boats and expensive jet skis.

My friend’s house was enormous and completely white, built in the American way: an old-fashioned architecture, no walls around the residence, in a calm neighborhood, with a pleasant garden, and it was good enough to feel the American way of life. I was felling like I was personally moving to that country for a new life and smelling the air of something really different from my reality in Sao Paulo.

This American experience has enriched even more when I enrolled at an American University to take an English course. The school was in a wide campus and the students were from many different countries.               

In order to help with the ordinary costs during my stay, I decided to work, even though I didn’t had neither the correct visa to work (only for tourism) nor the social security number needed for that. For this reason, the only job I could find was in a Brazilian car wash, in Pompano Beach.

One morning I wake up and realized I passed from a law student who studies in a famous Brazilian law university and works at a big firm of law, to a simple English student, washing cars at a small Brazilian car wash. The funny situation was that I got better paid for that.

The experience of living as a Latin foreigner in USA was unforgettable, except for the fact that I haven’t learned English as I desired. After all, working with mostly Latin workers in a car wash and staying in Miami, the “Spanish City”, gave me all chances to learn Spanish language, instead of English indeed. Furthermore, the life lesson showed me the value of my job and gave me reasons to recognize the importance of any kind of work.

 

 

 

Big victory inside

My sweating cold hand was holding my mother’s hand. I was clearly tense. As the line moved on and my turn came closer I could felt my feet and hands more and more perspiring. I’d already tried too many times, but always came back to the end of the long line all “fallen looked”. Finally I was there. In front of me an old soccer ball and not much far a smal goal all made in wood. I could felt my legs heavy and my body rigified, even so I had to try it again. I took distance, ran toward the ball, kicked and the same frustrating result. I was only four yers old, but I could already felt that pressure. Simple and even enjoyable things semmed like hard tasks. Since that age my exigence with my self was so excessive that couldn’t stand to make certain types of mistake, specially when they had to do with sports.

Twelve years later, with many experiences of pressure, glory and disappointments, I felt that my real test was comming. I passed on a “select test” to training on a soccer team which was going to play the most famouse women championchip at USA. I was one of the oldest of team and soon I became captain. I liked that position of lidership but also feared the challengings that it imposed.

At the semi-final the game was tough and fast ran in to the penaltys. I had already missed one and achieved other during the champ. When the coach asked who wanted to kick, I knew I had to answer “I do”, after all I was the captain and this was my function. I was the first to kick. Lots of thoughts invaded my mind on my way to the ball. Again that scene. But this time the ball was shining, the goal was bigger and a enormous goal-kipper was staring me with anger. I could see a bunch of people all rooting and cheering, but couldn’t heard anything. My mind was closed on its own thoughts. Again I felt my legs heavy and my body rigified. I took the ball and put it on the penalty spot. I felt my heart beating fast and my veins pulsating as I took few steps back. I looked the ball and concentrated all my energies. I ran in the direction of it like who run to overcome a bigger obstacle. When I saw that the ball was spinning inside the goal and the goal-kipper was looking me with sad eyes I ran as fast as I could to meet my team and celebrate. With them I celebrated the goal, but only I knew what the size of my victory.

Bad Christmas

     When I was almost 4 years old, I went to my aunt’s house in Interlagos with my mother, my father and my one year old brother to celebrate Christmas.

     My whole family was there waiting for us, so that we could have dinner and open the presents. As we arrived, I was entering the room holding hands with my mother and neither of us saw that the rug was up. I accidentaly put my left foot beneath it and fell, hitting my mouth on the corner of the table. I don’t remember what happened immediattly after because I fainted.

     My parents were extremily desperate because my mouth was bleeding a lot. They tried to call my dentist, who was in Ubatuba and told us to go to his sister’s -who is also a dentist- office.  Me and my parents arrived there at about midnight and I was exausted. The dentist staid for 2 and a half hours trying to put a special bracet in my teeth so that they didn’t fell of, but it didn’t work as it should. Due to the impact with the table, my front tooth was practically loose.

     I left the office at 3 in the morning with a strange bracet. Only Two days later, my tooth fell of. Since I was too young to lose a tooth, I started to use a bracet with a fake one, so that the others teeth didn’t change places, and I had to use it 24 hours a day, only taking it off to eat. However, the fake tooth was darker than the others, and all of my friends and kids I didn’t even know from my school started making fun of me saying that my tooth looked horrible. That made my self-steem decrease a lot, however there was nothing I could do.

     I used this bracet with the fake tooth from 4 to 8, when I accidentally lost it at school during break. The moment I lost it, i knew my mother would be very angry at me and would say that I didn’t take good care of it, so I left the classrom and started to look for it everywhere in the school. I also asked the school cleaners if they could help, but they didn’t find it. My mother got very upset and took me to the dentist to see what he could do. When we got there, he told me that I didn’t have to use it anymore because my front tooth was starting to grow. What a luck!