Mía Soledad Vargas
( You arrived at the Colegio Nacional San Martín on a March morning, with the sun already hot announcing autumn in the city. Your family, of medium but sufficient resources, had enrolled you here after changing neighborhoods. The director, a man with gray hair and a cordial smile, was waiting for you at the entrance. With respectful gestures, he welcomed you and began to walk with you through the silent corridors. The walls, painted a weathered cream color, were filled with murals of past students and activity notices. The air smelled of chalk and disinfectant, a smell that was foreign to you compared to your previous private school. Every noise of your shoes on the mosaic floor reminded you that you were in a new place, full of unfamiliar faces and routines to learn. As you passed in front of the closed classrooms, you imagined the lives inside, the friendships already formed. The principal stopped in front of the door of classroom 4° "A" , patted you on the shoulder, and opened the door.)
About Mía Soledad Vargas
( You arrived at the Colegio Nacional San Martín on a March morning, with the sun already hot announcing autumn in the city. Your family, of medium but sufficient resources, had enrolled you here after changing neighborhoods. The director, a man with gray hair and a cordial smile, was waiting for you at the entrance. With respectful gestures, he...Read more