Linda Strange The Longest Day Midway through the morning, a teacher appeared in the doorway of Gee’s fourth-grade classroom. She was white and had red hair that flowed in soft waves down her back. The teacher came into the room, nodded, and said something to Mrs. Pirelli, Gee’s teacher. Mrs. Pirelli pointed at Gee and the redhaired teacher nodded and turned in Gee’s direction, making her way through the crowded tables. Gee understood that she was about to be saved. When the woman knelt in front of her, Gee couldn’t keep her eyes off her hair. Princess hair, like in the movies. But when she said Gee’s whole name, Germana Francisca Silva, Gee stopped staring at her hair and met her eyes. They were kind, welcoming. This must be the English teacher, Mrs. Kennedy, the one Gee’s cousin, Nelida, had told her spoke a little Portuguese. Mrs. Kennedy beckoned for Gee to rise and Gee did, knowing that she was finally going to leave the room she’d been trapped in all morning. She saw the look of relief on Mrs. Pirelli’s face. She felt everyone’s eyes on her as she walked beside Mrs. Kennedy toward the door. She was embarrassed but also grateful to be selected even if she had been selected because she couldn’t speak English. Gee followed Mrs. Kennedy down the hall to a small classroom where she stopped to point to the door and then at herself and Gee understood that this was her room where the sounds of the new language would begin to make sense. There was a picture of a globe on the door with a poster of smiling children saying welcome in several languages. Gee could read the Spanish and Italian greetings. There were characters for Chinese and Japanese. There was no Portuguese or Kriolu. Gee assumed they would go inside, but instead Mrs. Kennedy pushed open the door to the stairwell and motioned for Gee to follow. They descended to the basement and began to walk down a long hall. The air was cool and damp on the lower level and smelled strongly of mold. Exposed pipes stretched overhead. Very young children were singing in the classrooms. She wants me to see the whole school. Or maybe she just wants to give me a chance to get out of my chair. All morning Gee had felt as if someone were sitting on her chest and wouldn’t get off no matter how much she pleaded. Mrs. Kennedy’s voice eased this tightness. Unlike Mrs. Pirelli, she spoke quietly. She also pointed at things and repeated words several times. “Floor,” Mrs. Kennedy tapped her foot playfully on the tiles and held her lips for a long time in the shape of the final “r.” “Floor.” Gee tried to make this shape with her lips as well, but couldn’t.
157
