Nothing to see here

I just spent a lot of money on my son's textbooks . I have also acted as a responsible father and read them from top to bottom, to make sure that they were not indoctrinating me . At one hundred pages I felt so relieved that I didn't even remember that he is three years old and can't read.

It happened to me like my friend Begoña . The poor woman made the two worst mistakes of her life almost at the same time: studying early childhood education and leaving Madrid to go live with one of my best friends. That led her to a two-year strike until she learned Catalan. But the worst came when he finally entered his first class, and discovered that no child spoke that language. It was the construction boom and almost all of his students had just landed from Ecuador, Colombia, Morocco or Romania. Some did not even know Spanish. What any hustler independentist would call a perfect classroom .

A director recently complained that the children spoke Spanish in the playground, that there was no way. What for some would be the demonstration that a language is being introduced unnaturally, for others it demonstrates the need to reinforce immersion . That is why both extremes are irreconcilable.

Complaining by now that there are 17 educational systems in Spain is like complaining that 17 students have 17 mothers. Not knowing what Spain has become is comparable to not knowing where children come from. Not even ours. In addition, the construction of nationality is becoming cheaper. You just have to see the textbooks. Before a little history or language was required. Now a gearbox or a rock drum is enough to build historical abuse, under- financing and skills deficit .

Some wonder what they will think of us in 150 years, when these pages of history are reviewed. But no one will ever review these pages of history, like those police officers who circulate shaking their arms, and saying "there is nothing to see here."

We live in a world where I have a child born on an island. Galician, Valencian, Mallorcan and German family. To which I have already dragged through the United Kingdom, Portugal, Holland, Italy and Germany. I don't know what language you will speak. Not even if he will forget his textbooks. Not even if a good day will wave a flag like the pumpkin and the slipper in Brian's life. But I know that it would sadden me that your nation would not be reduced to the centimeters you sleep with the person you love.

According to the criteria of The Trust Project

• Spain
• UK
• Portugal
• Morocco
• Madrid
• Italy
• Holland
• Ecuador
• Colombia
• Germany
• Childhood
• society
• Columnists

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