My Aurora

Aurora Varona is my teacher. She is, because there are feelings that are always present, even though the years, and death, try to thwart you. Although I will never again hear that kind of password of affection we always shared, no one can take away the tenderness of that greeting throbbing in my heart.

She, an old teacher, as is said with respect and admiration of those who have dedicated their entire life to teaching, was the owner and mistress of her space. I don't remember a voice louder than hers, nor anyone who tried to undermine her strict control over everything that happened in class.

Our classroom was a Martí brotherhood. From the very door, where a verse by Martí greeted us day after day from fifth to sixth grade, to her example and her sap, because Aurora always acted guided by the Sun, and although she never hid the spots from us, she demanded that we give light. Perhaps it was because of life's incongruities that on October 25, 2015, she gazed at the sun for the last time, and I pushed my body to its limits to kiss the teacher who taught me to love.

Under his tutelage I learned mathematics, science, and work education, thanks to the sweet fortune of being a comprehensive general teacher, which primary school teachers are. She also taught us to respect and value our word, and about dignity; yes, because my teacher also instilled principles in us. She wasn't just a primary school teacher; she was a life teacher.

I have a photo from the last day of classes where her gaze, following my every step, foretold what was to come. She was never far from me; she knew about the competitions I entered, my grades in high school, my vocational school entrance exams, and my scholarship. She enjoyed my journalism aptitude test with my mother, and she was there for my first day of university, and for my last. Later, she would knock on my door to thank me (my teacher thanking me!) for a published piece, or she would stop me in the street to point out aspects of a topic I could have included in another.

With her, I learned to be dedicated to everything I do. That's why I want to believe that now, as I venture into the art of teaching, which in her was a grace, she accompanies me every time I enter the classroom, and I feel the challenge of passing on to my students everything that my Aurora taught me. (Text: Carmen Luisa Hernández Loredo/ Contributor, Radio Cadena Agramonte) (Photo: Internet)