Oliver was woken by his mother when she came from work, given breakfast, then sent off on his own to school.
Oliver was scared, he was not used to the traffic, the people, the language. What saved him was that there were other boys carrying books, so he followed them to the school, moving as they did, acting as if he were one of them.
He entered the building, and went up to the classroom, proud to have recalled where it was.
The teacher greeted him, gave him books, better books than he had ever seen. He had to sign for them and was told by her where the class had reached.
“What you need to do Oliver, is catch up. There is no sense in trying to answer the questions for chapter ten when you haven’t read and answered the questions for one to nine.”
Oliver stared into her eyes.
“What I want you to do is after school, and on the weekends, read each chapter and answer all the questions at the end. Do this for all subjects until you catch up to the class.”
“I know it is a lot, and I won’t push you too hard, but I think, if you try, you can make it.”
Oliver looked at the teacher with more love than he had ever felt in his life.
She was the first person to care about him.