Ilustração para o conto "Aprendizagem", de Flávio Carneiro, para a seção "Era uma vez (para ler com seus alunos)", da revista Nova Escola
Illustration for the short story "Learning", by Flávio Carneiro, for the section "Once upon a time (to read with your students)", in the magazine Nova Escola
APRENDIZAGEM
–Mãe, cabelo demora quanto tempo pra crescer?
- Hã?
- Se eu cortar meu cabelo hoje, quando é que ele vai crescer de novo?
- Cabelo está sempre crescendo, Beatriz, é que nem unha.
A comparação deixa a menina meio confusa. Ela não estava preocupada com unhas.
- Todo dia, mãe?
- É, só que a gente não repara.
- Por quê?
- Porque as pessoas têm mais o que fazer, não acha?
Ela não sabe se essa é uma pergunta do tipo que precisa ser respondida ou é daquelas que a gente ouve e pronto. Prefere não responder.
- Você é muito ocupada, não é, mãe?
- Hã?
- Nada, não.
A mãe termina de passar a roupa e vai guardando tudo no armário. Enquanto isso Beatriz corre até o quartinho de costura, pega a fita métrica e mede novamente o cabelo da boneca. Ela mesma tinha cortado aquele cabelo com todo o cuidado do mundo, pra ficar parecido com o da mãe, mas a verdade é que ficou meio torto.
Nada, não cresceu nada, ela conclui, guardando a fita. E já tem uma semana!
Depois volta para onde está a mãe, que agora lustra os móveis.
- Mãe, existe alguma doença que faz o cabelo da gente não crescer?
- Mas de novo essa conversa de cabelo! Não tem outra coisa pra pensar não, criatura?
Essa não há dúvida: é do tipo que você não deve responder.
A mãe continua trabalhando. Precisa se apressar, dali a pouco a patroa
chega da rua e o almoço nem está pronto ainda.
- Mãe!
- O que foi?
- É que eu estava aqui pensando.
- Pensando o quê?
Beatriz não responde, espera um pouco, tentando achar as palavras certas.
- Vai, fala logo.
- Quando a gente faz uma coisa, sabe, e não dá mais para voltar atrás, entendeu?
- Não, não entendi.
Ela abaixa a cabeça, dá um tempinho e resolve arriscar:
- Então, se você não entendeu, posso continuar perguntando sobre cabelo?
- Ai, meu Deus!
Beatriz deixa a mãe trabalhando e vai procurar de novo sua boneca.
Pega a boneca no colo e diz no seu ouvido:
- Não liga não, cabelo de boneca é assim mesmo, cresce devagar, viu?
E num carinho:
- Foi minha mãe que me ensinou.
Flávio Carneiro, autor deste conto, é roteirista, ensaísta, professor de Literatura. Tem onze livros publicados, dentre eles, A distância das Coisas (Editora SM), vencedor do III Prêmio Barco a Vapor. Conheça mais o trabalho dele em www.flaviocarneiro.com.br
LEARNING
–Mom, how long does it take for hair to grow?
-Huh?
-If I cut my hair today, when will it grow back?
-Hair is always growing, Beatriz, it's like fingernails.
The comparison leaves the girl a little confused. She wasn't worried about nails.
-Every day, Mom?
-Yeah, we just don't notice.
-Why?
-Because people have better things to do, don't you think?
She doesn't know if this is a question that needs to be answered or one we just hear and that's it. She prefers not to answer.
-You're very busy, aren't you, Mom?
-Huh?
-Nothing, no.
Her mother finishes ironing and puts everything away in the closet. Meanwhile, Beatriz runs to the sewing room, grabs the tape measure, and measures the doll's hair again. She herself had cut that hair with all the care in the world, to make it look like her mother's, but the truth is, it ended up a little crooked.
–Mom, how long does it take for hair to grow?
-Huh?
-If I cut my hair today, when will it grow back?
-Hair is always growing, Beatriz, it's like fingernails.
The comparison leaves the girl a little confused. She wasn't worried about nails.
-Every day, Mom?
-Yeah, we just don't notice.
-Why?
-Because people have better things to do, don't you think?
She doesn't know if this is a question that needs to be answered or one we just hear and that's it. She prefers not to answer.
-You're very busy, aren't you, Mom?
-Huh?
-Nothing, no.
Her mother finishes ironing and puts everything away in the closet. Meanwhile, Beatriz runs to the sewing room, grabs the tape measure, and measures the doll's hair again. She herself had cut that hair with all the care in the world, to make it look like her mother's, but the truth is, it ended up a little crooked.
Nothing, it didn't grow at all, she concludes, putting the ribbon away. And it's already been a week!
Then she returns to her mother, who is now polishing the furniture.
"Mom, is there some disease that makes our hair not grow?"
"But again this hair talk! Don't you have anything else to think about, my dear?"
There's no doubt about that: it's the kind you shouldn't answer."
The mother continues working. She needs to hurry; soon the boss
will be back from the street and lunch won't even be ready yet.
"Mom!"
"What is it?"
"I was just thinking."
"Thinking about what?"
Beatriz doesn't answer, waits a moment, trying to find the right words.
"Go on, just say it."
"When we do something, you know, and there's no going back, you understand?"
"No, I don't understand." She lowers her head, waits a moment, and decides to take a chance:
"So, if you didn't understand, can I keep asking about hair?"
"Oh my God!"
Beatriz leaves her mother working and goes looking for her doll again.
She picks up the doll and whispers in her ear:
"Don't worry, doll hair is like that, it grows slowly, you know?" And with a caress:
"My mother taught me."
Flávio Carneiro, author of this story, is a screenwriter, essayist, and literature professor. He has published eleven books, including A distância das Coisas (Editora SM), winner of the III Prêmio Barco a Vapor. Learn more about his work at www.flaviocarneiro.com.br
Then she returns to her mother, who is now polishing the furniture.
"Mom, is there some disease that makes our hair not grow?"
"But again this hair talk! Don't you have anything else to think about, my dear?"
There's no doubt about that: it's the kind you shouldn't answer."
The mother continues working. She needs to hurry; soon the boss
will be back from the street and lunch won't even be ready yet.
"Mom!"
"What is it?"
"I was just thinking."
"Thinking about what?"
Beatriz doesn't answer, waits a moment, trying to find the right words.
"Go on, just say it."
"When we do something, you know, and there's no going back, you understand?"
"No, I don't understand." She lowers her head, waits a moment, and decides to take a chance:
"So, if you didn't understand, can I keep asking about hair?"
"Oh my God!"
Beatriz leaves her mother working and goes looking for her doll again.
She picks up the doll and whispers in her ear:
"Don't worry, doll hair is like that, it grows slowly, you know?" And with a caress:
"My mother taught me."
Flávio Carneiro, author of this story, is a screenwriter, essayist, and literature professor. He has published eleven books, including A distância das Coisas (Editora SM), winner of the III Prêmio Barco a Vapor. Learn more about his work at www.flaviocarneiro.com.br