In
the 7th, 8th and 9th years I attended the so-called unified
teaching.
The 7th year was very troublesome because I moved to a group where I did not know anyone and I went back to deepen (definitively in school) my difficulty of integration.
It was the first time I liked someone - a girl from Vale Covo, brunette, thin and with a beautiful smile ... for two years I liked her without being able to say a word and when I did, it went very badly (I declare myself more Lacked the courage to wait for the answer and I did not know how to take advantage of a colleague who, knowing that I liked her, tried to approach us) ... I continued to like her long after we stopped seeing each other ...
I only remember the Portuguese teacher who discovered that I had some way to write and, much to the annoyance of my classmates, she chose in every class to ask for a text about a theme she was setting up ... it was a hundred texts that oscillated between The excellent and the very good, but always with the best grade in the class ... not worth keeping them ...
An unfortunate episode happened in a history class (where I was even the best student in the class). There was group work to do and nobody wanted to team with me despite a heated discussion with the teacher ... I just did the work alone ... I had 17 and the second best grade was 12 ... (I have a lot of difficulty motivating myself or believing in me more When motive happens things like this ..., pity that is practically always for bad reasons)
From then on I dictated my rules in terms of group work - I always chose for my group who walked in school just for walking, I did the work alone but they had to present it that already at the time I did not like to talk (Of course I prepared the whole presentation) ... until today I do not like to work in groups ...
The 8th year was very very complicated ... I changed again class ... again I was with those who did not know and this time with the bonus of having stayed with everything that was a student failed and problematic ...
I got surrounded at school because they wanted to knock me over, I went to classes with others sitting at my desk insulting me and beating me about the inability of teachers to control the situation ... I never understood ... I was never afraid ... I was never intimidated ... but it was difficult ... very difficult ...
The history teacher even complained to them, wondering if they had any idea of the consequences that this would have in my life ... it did not work at all and in fact I felt quite strange to everyone talking about me as if I I was not in the room
In a 9th grade class Julia do Rosário (from Vale Covo and even was nice to me) asked the teacher why I was not like the others as well as if I was not sitting next to her ... I discovered these Things that I am very easy to forget (and this is a huge bitterness) ...
From so many things they did to me I ended up having the first negatives and just did not hit the year by luck (even if the negatives were just physical education and visual education)
This year I began to teach catechesis, but strangely enough that until now it seems to me that no one involved me with this ... Father Guerra invited me and let me know how I did not tell him that I did not ... I learned from Cristina Bruno and Fátima Passion ... besides me were starting to M. Fernandes, Paula Ezequiel, Paulo Matos, Carla Álvaro and Francisco Maximino ... my 1st group (a 2nd year) Had Cristina Henriques, André Santos, Catarina Gil, Kátia Martins, Daniel (later a Canadian Air Force pilot) ...
Already the descent of the Belenenses to the 2nd division was a horror - only adept of the school, I had everybody around me to enjoy with me ... one of the worst days of my school course ...
It was also in this year, on his break, that I got rid of the harassment of my colleagues ... In May, on the day of the fair, a colleague (already deceased) bought a razor-sharp knife and thought that the most fun was to try to terrorize Me with her ... I still did not know that, not being brave, between the sword and the wall I always choose the sword.
It was the so-called big break (10:15 a.m. to 10:35 p.m.) ... the hallway was full of people running and screaming as he opened the razor and pointed it to my belly ... I started walking forward, He turned left I turned left, he turned right I turned right ... after a while he was fed up because after all I was not afraid and the "joke" after all had no joke ... never bothered me again ... worse ... they completely ignored me ... later it occurred to me that it had not been a good idea to walk in the corridors of a school with a knife pointed at the belly but it went well ... .
In the 9th year I returned to a group where I already knew some people but at that time I was more worried about walking alone and having no friends than properly with the school ...
On 31 December 1984 (already in the 10th year) began my saga of bad feelings ... at midnight I felt that had been the best year of my life and would not have another good year ... 33 years later I find that, as always happened afterwards, my bad feeling came true ...
Not that I believe in divinations or supernatural things, I simply realize the things that are happening, what I see, listening or reading in people's faces (sometimes just intuiting) and my hyperactive subconscious, sums everything up and arrives at Conclusions that later my conscience collects as forebodings and that I can materialize in the form of thoughts ... pity that this only happens with what is bad because good forebodings I never had ...
The 7th year was very troublesome because I moved to a group where I did not know anyone and I went back to deepen (definitively in school) my difficulty of integration.
It was the first time I liked someone - a girl from Vale Covo, brunette, thin and with a beautiful smile ... for two years I liked her without being able to say a word and when I did, it went very badly (I declare myself more Lacked the courage to wait for the answer and I did not know how to take advantage of a colleague who, knowing that I liked her, tried to approach us) ... I continued to like her long after we stopped seeing each other ...
I only remember the Portuguese teacher who discovered that I had some way to write and, much to the annoyance of my classmates, she chose in every class to ask for a text about a theme she was setting up ... it was a hundred texts that oscillated between The excellent and the very good, but always with the best grade in the class ... not worth keeping them ...
An unfortunate episode happened in a history class (where I was even the best student in the class). There was group work to do and nobody wanted to team with me despite a heated discussion with the teacher ... I just did the work alone ... I had 17 and the second best grade was 12 ... (I have a lot of difficulty motivating myself or believing in me more When motive happens things like this ..., pity that is practically always for bad reasons)
From then on I dictated my rules in terms of group work - I always chose for my group who walked in school just for walking, I did the work alone but they had to present it that already at the time I did not like to talk (Of course I prepared the whole presentation) ... until today I do not like to work in groups ...
The 8th year was very very complicated ... I changed again class ... again I was with those who did not know and this time with the bonus of having stayed with everything that was a student failed and problematic ...
I got surrounded at school because they wanted to knock me over, I went to classes with others sitting at my desk insulting me and beating me about the inability of teachers to control the situation ... I never understood ... I was never afraid ... I was never intimidated ... but it was difficult ... very difficult ...
The history teacher even complained to them, wondering if they had any idea of the consequences that this would have in my life ... it did not work at all and in fact I felt quite strange to everyone talking about me as if I I was not in the room
In a 9th grade class Julia do Rosário (from Vale Covo and even was nice to me) asked the teacher why I was not like the others as well as if I was not sitting next to her ... I discovered these Things that I am very easy to forget (and this is a huge bitterness) ...
From so many things they did to me I ended up having the first negatives and just did not hit the year by luck (even if the negatives were just physical education and visual education)
This year I began to teach catechesis, but strangely enough that until now it seems to me that no one involved me with this ... Father Guerra invited me and let me know how I did not tell him that I did not ... I learned from Cristina Bruno and Fátima Passion ... besides me were starting to M. Fernandes, Paula Ezequiel, Paulo Matos, Carla Álvaro and Francisco Maximino ... my 1st group (a 2nd year) Had Cristina Henriques, André Santos, Catarina Gil, Kátia Martins, Daniel (later a Canadian Air Force pilot) ...
Already the descent of the Belenenses to the 2nd division was a horror - only adept of the school, I had everybody around me to enjoy with me ... one of the worst days of my school course ...
It was also in this year, on his break, that I got rid of the harassment of my colleagues ... In May, on the day of the fair, a colleague (already deceased) bought a razor-sharp knife and thought that the most fun was to try to terrorize Me with her ... I still did not know that, not being brave, between the sword and the wall I always choose the sword.
It was the so-called big break (10:15 a.m. to 10:35 p.m.) ... the hallway was full of people running and screaming as he opened the razor and pointed it to my belly ... I started walking forward, He turned left I turned left, he turned right I turned right ... after a while he was fed up because after all I was not afraid and the "joke" after all had no joke ... never bothered me again ... worse ... they completely ignored me ... later it occurred to me that it had not been a good idea to walk in the corridors of a school with a knife pointed at the belly but it went well ... .
In the 9th year I returned to a group where I already knew some people but at that time I was more worried about walking alone and having no friends than properly with the school ...
On 31 December 1984 (already in the 10th year) began my saga of bad feelings ... at midnight I felt that had been the best year of my life and would not have another good year ... 33 years later I find that, as always happened afterwards, my bad feeling came true ...
Not that I believe in divinations or supernatural things, I simply realize the things that are happening, what I see, listening or reading in people's faces (sometimes just intuiting) and my hyperactive subconscious, sums everything up and arrives at Conclusions that later my conscience collects as forebodings and that I can materialize in the form of thoughts ... pity that this only happens with what is bad because good forebodings I never had ...
No 7.º, 8.º e 9.º anos frequentei o chamado ensino unificado.
O 7.º
ano foi bastante atribulado pois mudei para uma turma onde não conhecia ninguém
e voltei a aprofundar (definitivamente em matéria de escola) a minha
dificuldade de integração.
Foi a
primeira vez que gostei de alguém – uma menina do Vale Covo, morena, magra e
com um belo sorriso… durante dois anos gostei dela sem ser capaz de lhe dizer
uma palavra e quando o fiz, correu muito mal (declarei-me mas faltou a coragem
de esperar pela resposta e nem soube aproveitar uma colega que sabendo que eu
gostava dela tentou aproximar-nos)… continuei a gostar dela muito depois de
deixarmos de nos ver…
Apenas
recordo a professora de português que descobriu que eu tinha algum jeito para
escrever e, para grande incómodo dos meus colegas, optou por em todas as aulas
nos pedir um texto sobre um tema que ela ia estabelecendo… foi uma centena de
textos a oscilar entre o excelente e o muito bom, mas sempre com a melhor nota
da turma… pena não os ter guardado…
Um
episódio lamentável aconteceu numa aula de história (onde eu até era o melhor
aluno da turma). Havia trabalho de grupo para fazer e ninguém quis fazer equipa
comigo apesar de uma acesa discussão com a professora… Acabei a fazer sozinho o
trabalho… tive 17 e a segunda melhor nota foi 12… (tenho muita dificuldade em
me motivar ou acreditar em mim mas quando me motivo acontecem coisas assim…,
pena que seja praticamente sempre por más razões)
Daí
para a frente ditei as minhas regras em termos de trabalho de grupo – eu escolhia
sempre para o meu grupo quem andava na escola só por andar, eu fazia o trabalho sozinho mas eles
tinham de o apresentar que já na altura eu não gostava de falar (claro que lhes preparava a
apresentação toda)… até hoje não gosto de trabalhar em grupo…
O 8.º
ano foi muito muito complicado… mudei novamente de turma… novamente fiquei com
quem não conhecia e desta vez com o bónus de ter ficado com tudo o que era
aluno reprovado e problemático…
Cheguei a estar cercado na escola porque me queriam bater, passei aulas com outros sentados na minha secretária a insultarem-me e a baterem-me perante a incapacidade dos professores controlarem a situação... Nunca compreendi... nunca tive medo... nuca me intimidei... mas foi difícil... muito difícil...
A professora de história chegou a reclamar com eles, perguntando se tinham noção das consequências que aquilo ia ter na minha vida... não serviu de nada e em boa verdade senti-me bastante estranho com toda a gente a falar de mim como se eu não estivesse na sala...
Numa aula do 9.º ano a Julia do Rosário (do Vale Covo e que até era simpática comigo) perguntou à professora porque é que eu não era como os os outros também como se eu não estivesse sentado ao lado dela... descobri nestas coisas que sou muito fácil de esquecer (e essa é uma amargura enorme)...
Cheguei a estar cercado na escola porque me queriam bater, passei aulas com outros sentados na minha secretária a insultarem-me e a baterem-me perante a incapacidade dos professores controlarem a situação... Nunca compreendi... nunca tive medo... nuca me intimidei... mas foi difícil... muito difícil...
A professora de história chegou a reclamar com eles, perguntando se tinham noção das consequências que aquilo ia ter na minha vida... não serviu de nada e em boa verdade senti-me bastante estranho com toda a gente a falar de mim como se eu não estivesse na sala...
Numa aula do 9.º ano a Julia do Rosário (do Vale Covo e que até era simpática comigo) perguntou à professora porque é que eu não era como os os outros também como se eu não estivesse sentado ao lado dela... descobri nestas coisas que sou muito fácil de esquecer (e essa é uma amargura enorme)...
De
tantas coisas que me fizeram acabei a ter as primeiras negativas e só não
chumbei o ano por sorte (ainda que as negativas fossem só a educação física e
educação visual)
Neste
ano comecei a dar catequese mas por estranho que até hoje me pareça ninguém
implicou comigo por isso… o Pe. Guerra convidou-me e vá-se lá saber como não lhe disse que não... aprendi com a Cristina Bruno e a Fátima Paixão... além de mim estavam a iniciar-se a M.ª Céu Fernandes, a Paula Ezequiel, o Paulo Matos, a Carla Álvaro e o Francisco Maximino... o meu 1.º grupo (um 2.º ano) tinha a Cristina Henriques, o André Santos, a Catarina Gil, a Kátia Martins, o Daniel (mais tarde piloto da Força Aérea Canadiana)...
Já a
descida do Belenenses à 2.ª divisão foi um horror – único adepto da escola,
tive toda a gente à minha volta a gozar comigo… um dos piores dias do meu
percurso escolar…
Também foi neste ano, já no seu dealbar, que me livrei das patifarias dos colegas... Em Maio no dia feira, um colega (já falecido) comprou uma navalha de ponta e mola e achou que o mais divertido a fazer era tentar aterrorizar-me com ela... ainda não sabia que, não sendo eu corajoso, entre a espada e a parede escolho sempre a espada.
Era o chamado intervalo grande (10:15 às 10:35 horas)... o corredor estava cheia de gente a correr e aos gritos quando ele abriu a navalha e apontou-a à minha barriga... comecei a andar em frente, ele virava à esquerda eu virava à esquerda, ele virava à direita eu virava à direita... ao fim de algum tempo fartou-se porque afinal eu não tinha medo e a "brincadeira" afinal não tinha piada... nunca mais me incomodaram... pior ... passaram a ignorar-me por completo... mais tarde ocorreu-me que não tinha sido lá muito boa ideia andar a passear pelos corredores de uma escola com uma faca apontada à barriga mas pronto correu bem...
Também foi neste ano, já no seu dealbar, que me livrei das patifarias dos colegas... Em Maio no dia feira, um colega (já falecido) comprou uma navalha de ponta e mola e achou que o mais divertido a fazer era tentar aterrorizar-me com ela... ainda não sabia que, não sendo eu corajoso, entre a espada e a parede escolho sempre a espada.
Era o chamado intervalo grande (10:15 às 10:35 horas)... o corredor estava cheia de gente a correr e aos gritos quando ele abriu a navalha e apontou-a à minha barriga... comecei a andar em frente, ele virava à esquerda eu virava à esquerda, ele virava à direita eu virava à direita... ao fim de algum tempo fartou-se porque afinal eu não tinha medo e a "brincadeira" afinal não tinha piada... nunca mais me incomodaram... pior ... passaram a ignorar-me por completo... mais tarde ocorreu-me que não tinha sido lá muito boa ideia andar a passear pelos corredores de uma escola com uma faca apontada à barriga mas pronto correu bem...
No 9.º
ano voltei a uma turma em que já conhecia algumas pessoas mas nessa altura já
eu estava mais preocupado com o andar sozinho e não ter amigos do que
propriamente com a escola…
No dia 31 de Dezembro de 1984 (já no 10.º ano) iniciou-se a minha saga dos maus pressentimentos... à meia-noite senti que aquele tinha sido o melhor ano da minha vida e que não voltaria a ter outro ano bom... 33 anos depois verifico que, como sempre aconteceu depois, o meu mau pressentimento se concretizou...
Não que eu acredite em adivinhações ou coisas sobrenaturais, simplesmente eu apercebo-me das coisas que vão acontecendo, do que vou vendo, ouvindo ou lendo no rosto das pessoas (ás vezes só intuindo) e o meu subconsciente hiperactivo, soma tudo e chega a conclusões que depois o meu consciente recolhe como pressentimentos e que consigo materializar na forma de pensamentos... pena que isso só suceda com o que é mau porque bons pressentimentos nunca tive...
No dia 31 de Dezembro de 1984 (já no 10.º ano) iniciou-se a minha saga dos maus pressentimentos... à meia-noite senti que aquele tinha sido o melhor ano da minha vida e que não voltaria a ter outro ano bom... 33 anos depois verifico que, como sempre aconteceu depois, o meu mau pressentimento se concretizou...
Não que eu acredite em adivinhações ou coisas sobrenaturais, simplesmente eu apercebo-me das coisas que vão acontecendo, do que vou vendo, ouvindo ou lendo no rosto das pessoas (ás vezes só intuindo) e o meu subconsciente hiperactivo, soma tudo e chega a conclusões que depois o meu consciente recolhe como pressentimentos e que consigo materializar na forma de pensamentos... pena que isso só suceda com o que é mau porque bons pressentimentos nunca tive...
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