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When they gave me the grades in the defunct EGB, I did a very fast count of the

envelopes

(most),

grades

(several) and the good, which always fell in Gymnastics.

What a shit that jumping to the plinth, hey, they'll tell me what the hell was that very difficult acrobatics for, that it wasn't even a servant to work in the Circo del Sol as an acrobatic player.

She said that I was

looking at the newsletter and my fang was shining

, like

someone

who buys shares at 10

gallifants

and sells them at 40. Being a nerd traded higher.

Then things would go a bit twisted, especially in the COU that one (when the one with the flirt that today is a husband), although I never wallowed in the spit of September.

Praise be.

My creatures are

outsiders

. They travel in the normative periphery because in their school

there are no grades or exams

, and it is half forbidden to pronounce the word "homework", which is very frowned upon. For this reason, we use lexical detours such as "tareítas", "pending things" and "projects". This is the plan. I know that for some this of the cool pedagogies is a breeding ground for lazy and thugs, but I will get into that puddle another day, which I am in a hurry.

Now the firstborn no longer drifts in Eden. He has entered ESO and has finished researching, working as a team, learning to learn, getting up in class and all that bossing around in his own learning.

Afternoons

have arrived

full of exercises in Language

, exercises in Geography, exercises in English, exercises whatever. You have to take notes, complete agendas, stick to the chair and take

exams at close range

, exams on Monday, exams on Wednesday, exams on Friday. May they never be missing. Again, this is the plan.

And I saw a newsletter again.

I was surprised that it was a

bare

sheet of paper

,

without the dignity that a cardboard always grants

, with its weight and texture, but in short, perhaps that nobility detracts from the planet's sustainability.

It will be a Greta Thunberg thing.

What I did not think was going to happen is that

other parents asked me, without decorum or modesty, about my son's grades

, anticipating, as if I did not care, that his Enriquito peta in Technology;

that he clicks on Mates, although "he has gotten notable";

and that the English thing is a walk, thanks to the summers in Brighton.

It takes self-esteem in a high place and education in the opposite place, to perpetrate a third degree, as well as carelessness, while the bus is coming;

to strut with the shining fang;

to make a fool of yourself without blushing.

As if they had gestated a Stephen Hawking!

Go gargle with your interrogations, which look more like moths out of

Vetusta

than citizens of 2021. What dandruff and often backfire.

You have to know that third-rate 'gestapillo', that asking about the notes of someone else's child is like doing it about the salary, about the intestinal transit, about the electoral vote

I pass those legs in a very ordinary place - at the level of the body center - but since I took out so many

envelopes

, I should not reproduce them. You have to know that

third-rate

gestapillo

, that asking about the notes of someone else's son is like doing it about the salary,

about the intestinal transit

, about the electoral vote.

Perhaps

, if there is trust, proceed; if not, take the road to Parla and dissolve, gentlemen.

I always try to answer the Galician, that is, without loosening even two grams of information.

I endure the onslaught of the waves like a barnacle and

detect how irritation

tightens

their little magpie eyes

.

Since they see that (oh, damn!) They run out of loot, they take it for granted that your kid is a jerk;

that he will have six left;

go, go.

It is very typical of gossip and vermin badthink.

But I always resist, like others on the Costa da Morte, and I enjoy when, leaving without the persecuted scrutiny, their veins turn black with anger.

As much anger they carry as they rest.

Ah, my son, just like his mother, but without the good.

Apparently the plinth is no longer being worn.

According to the criteria of The Trust Project

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