Everything was as usual at school that Saturday. I was ready for the Armenian literature.
We were discussing the works of Aksel Bakunts, my favorite writer. The teacher opened the register. My curiosity made me stand up and peep into the register from above to see who the teacher was going to ask. At that moment my classmate exclaimed:
“Wow, Ester, there is s pin on your trousers.”
Everyone saw the pin, but no one took it seriously at all, because in our class sticking pins was a wide-spread phenomenon. I was shocked and started crying at the lesson. No one could understand why. Pin traps were being taken for granted, but I couldn’t take the hurt.
Wrote at 12 years old age
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We prepared with enthusiasm and ran out of the classroom. We went downstairs to the first floor. We knew that the school-guard would not be much willing to open the door and let us out. So we ran out to the next department. We had no fear, we thought we were grown-ups and no one would blame us. We went to the park and had a walk. The next day we went to school unprepared. As we stepped in, the school-guard looked at us with anger, but we couldn’t understand why; we are grown-ups, aren’t we? But it was only the beginning. As we went upstairs, we met our teacher. She reprimanded us, gave blows to the leaders and took us to the headmaster’s room. The later grew angry and called our parents the next day. Our parents, of course, became angry too and we understood that it was our first and last escape.
Wrote at 12 years old age
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“About Myself” (About Me)
Hello, I’m Ester. It is very difficult to tell about me, because usually other people talk about me: they either praise me or get angry with me, but let me tell you what I think about me . . .
I was born under the sign of the monkey. And consequently I like bananas. Being a monkey, I want to jump on to the trees, but everybody says that I’m clumsy. Maybe they are clumsy monkeys too. When I was a baby I was afraid of the moon. That’s why I either held my mother’s hand or asked her to hold me in her arms during the evening walks. I’m a little fragile and often want to cry.
If I tell you something, you may think that I’m jealous, but no, just listen to me. My classes start late, that’s why I return home at 18:00 o’clock. I come home and see my sister doing her lessons. Immediately I put my bag on the table and without washing my hands, taking off my dress, and having supper, I start doing my lessons, lest my sister finishes her lessons earlier than me. For example, do you know about my coming to Manana? I saw that Nane was going there and decided to go myself, not knowing where I was going.
Let me talk a little about my school life. I want to start with this: one of our boys’ mother told my mom that all of the boys were afraid of me. Please don’t think I am an ugly witch. For example, when I saw my knight being teased by his classmates I began to cry. Would a witch cry?
Well, I don’t like opening my heart fully. I told these things because I really don’t want you to imagine me as a witch only because our boys are afraid of me. My classmates even call me a philosopher because I speak a lot, sometimes even more than I should. And my teacher gives me excellent marks so that I stop talking.
I should also add that I am mad about fashion, which my mother thinks is a drawback. She tries to explain to me that all things are in vain, but I don’t listen to her.
Wrote at 12 years old age
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My relatives say that my hands have an unusual warmth and strength. My hands cure them when they are ill. I just rub my hands, put them on the place, which aches, and the pain disappears.
Once I decided to go to school with a skirt on, but it was crumpled and there was no one at home. So I had to iron it myself. I remembered my relatives’ discovery about my curing warm hands and put them on the shirt. Nothing changed. Then I exclaimed:
“Unusual warmth and strength! Can’t you, my magic hands, iron my skirt, which I need so much?”
My hands were sweating, but again in vain. Soon I understood that I would be late for the classes. I threw away the skirt that wouldn’t obey me. I could not put it on that day. I dressed as usual. I was desperate for I could not solve the problem, for the warmth of my hands could help everyone but me.
Wrote at 12 years old age
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