My Name Is Parvana Read Online Free Page A

surprised by the question and did not have a smooth answer ready. “They will also get three meals a day, prepared in the school kitchen …”
    “And who will teach them to pray?” The man at the back barked the question at her.
    “We have excellent teachers on staff.”
    “Women! Women will teach them to pray?”
    “Um … we will invite the imam to come to teach them,” Parvana replied, but she didn’t feel good about her answer. It felt like she was agreeing with the man, that women teachers were not good enough.
    “We will also be teaching first-aid and simple nursing,” Parvana said. “Real medical professionals will be teaching us. The plan is that every girl will have good knowledge of basic health care by the time she graduates. It could help her get a job and will be good for her family and community.”
    They moved on to another classroom.
    “We have grades one to three in this room,” she said.
    This was the class her sister Nooria was going to teach. It had three big tables for the students to sit around to do their lessons. The tables could be pushed to the side to make room for games and exercises and story time.
    “They will learn to read and write and do simple arithmetic. They will learn about the animals and plants of Afghanistan, the names of the provinces and about other countries, and how to be a good citizen.”
    Parvana knew all this because Nooria had talked of little else for months, poring over every education book she could find and having long discussions with their mother.
    “We’re starting from scratch,” Nooria would say. “Everything that was here before is no good now. It all led to war and those terrible years. We have a chance to create a system that will raise a new type of Afghan child, a child with high expectations and with the confidence to rebuild the country.”
    She would go on and on about it, like she was making a speech — particularly when there were dishes to be washed or water to be fetched. But that was Nooria. Years of war had not made her act less bossy or feel less superior.
    Parvana found it annoying, but she was also a little relieved. In a world where everything could fall apart very quickly, Nooria being bossy was almost comforting.
    “Right down the hall is the middle-grade classroom,” Parvana said, and they looked into the room that was for grades four, five and six. “We’re calling the classes grades, but really they are age groups. It’s likely that everyone will be starting at the same level since all the schools have been closed for so long.”
    After that, Parvana led the group to the dining hall, which also held the few shelves of books that made up the school library. This would be the room where Parvana and the few other girls her age would study. They had different levels of education. Some had only got to the second grade, but they would feel better if they learned with girls their own age, rather than with the little kids.
    “What are these books?”
    The same man was complaining again. He held up a tattered copy of Alphabeasts , a picture book with the letters of the English alphabet represented by animals.
    “We don’t have many books yet,” Parvana said. “We have some that were donated. Most of those are in foreign languages.”
    She remembered the excitement everyone had felt when the boxes of books came in on an army truck, donated by some people in Canada. Her favorite so far was a collection of American poetry. The language was simple, so she could understand the words even if she couldn’t understand the poem. And the poems were short. She could usually get through a whole poem before her mother yelled at her to stop reading and get back to work. Parvana had helped to set up their tiny library, and had arranged each book on the shelf as if it were made of the finest china.
    “We hope to get books in our own language soon.”
    “Look at these pictures! Disgraceful!”
    He was holding the book open at one of