Giving oral evidence is not an easy matter, I think, while I, like my colleagues who sit on the benches review their notes, of retaining vast amounts of information that is absolutely impossible that we could retain ten minutes, although insurance would pay if someone can promise that, to put it in a way, become "swallow" those sheets of paper filled with notes, and articles accumulated in those piles of photocopies of which there are only four copies of each and have to fight them before someone else take it early. But it is not possible, and there we are. We are waiting for the executioner cut off the head, to make an analogy.
As man is usually a be (forgive the redundancy) unable to keep quiet, especially after suffering a significant accumulation of feelings, the output of the first victims turns out to be something that upsets. The company, which leads to the course for any activity or any of the existing long called for a strike or demonstration, comes out in a state of near hysteria, pulls out his cell phone and vent publicly and privately, crying in a broken voice that he knew the answers to the questions posed to others who crossed the threshold of what is usually a room, but now it has become a torture chamber, beside her, that he did not read one article was devoted to such a "green card", a word that does not sound, I think, as I so often look bored with the same notes and I have decided to stoic for my business, to Medieval Philosophy classes serve me something: The questions I will, two items will be I could not read due to lack of dossiers, so I planted a nice one as a note, and there is not much to ask. Stoicism, I repeat, to convince, as pessimism has worked on many other occasions.
are gradually leaving the other mourners of the occasion, with eyes lowered heads, short, and resigned expression. Wonder if he has known someone who has folded his hand to the target, or rather, a executioner questions turn, as in the first class had told us not to be afraid, but in oral evidence to Students usually fare poorly. One, I respond. A. Rather than betting on the chances of emulating, I betting the resigned stoicism, because I know I will not learn or remember the characteristics of the ceramic Molle in the short or long moments of my stay. Suddenly, with slightly satisfied smile and a touch of sadism as they run out dentists find their patients, he, the teacher that the other day looked down by its size and now has become impassable giant, Sphinx to which we are not any Theseus, out to find new victims. Some and some take their backpacks, ready to go. In a couple of faces you see some optimism, or a laugh that they are nervous. In others, frowning. "Missing one," he says, and I, who have tried to keep to quiet all this time that makes anyone would freeze a little blood, look at the rest, and no one stands up. Nobody gets up. Resignation, I think. Let's finish this, as I close the bag to go, last gladiator who bow to Caesar in this fight, and pulled out as the only weapon which trident, a pencil. A pencil, yes. A little trick that I have recommended. And not to write down the answers in hand. If oral evidence before a torpedo no worth.
I keep the short hallway, and I join the line of trembling and nervous, sitting, waiting, "a stroke of luck" as that song by Lucho Jara said. You know, know if we will be playing dance with ugly or luciremos us on the track. While asking the names I take to practice with the pen, which has only one useful for me. Roll it. I brought it just to roll with the hands, with that passage from one side to the same side, spiral and endless cycle, I disentangle and relax, if that's possible. Sorry to pass between my thumb and forefinger, moving as if all that happened at the time, like a breeze that comes not know where, setting a different time of the second, different clock ticking . In the midst of this sensation asks my name. I tell you, with acute middle that little voice that I never would contest to win a radio announcer. "Peñailillo" he repeated, and, like all those people, like most people, like my friend's dad, launches a funny anecdote believed, noting that he had a girlfriend in the basic of that name, which he said "Peñagrillo. He laughs slightly, I invent some laughter. Once also told me so. People often have problems with my surname, and others as well. Past. I do not let me disturb the memory. I roll the pencil a little more.
begin the questions. The first to respond outlines a response, stumbling, but manages to something coherent. A five award a few drops of sweat that run from the hair. Next question, and is one of an article I read and I can not remember. A chubby seems also passed swiftly by that document is not very useful, do not know. Then a girl who usually greet me, and uses what she calls "bullet lens." Neither succeeds. I would not be the exception, if my turn, I think, and I roll the pencil rapidly, anxiety, someone answers, I do not know. He is someone who has good background. "Do not deliver the job," said the professor. The guy did not intend to outline excuses. Already, the same question. And he knows. Something known. Yes, something known, the intensity decreases and returns my money at that rate of Rosario you purchased while you hear about the weichafe and provide details, of course, could not recall anywhere in my memory.
ends, having convinced relative to the teacher, and I looked at the pen spin, twist and turn. Still another, which gives a very clear answer to your question. Then the girl next to me. She is nervous, you'll note in his voice, and I do not watch it. There's the pen, providing the necessary distraction, diverting my attention with its passage through the tips of my fingers, tips of my fingers, I think, as she is pitching ideas, some correct, others that have nothing to do with Culture Llo -Lleo, and Professor calmadita tells you, do not be nervous, and she swallows, returned to the charge, but nothing much happens but again confused. I shake my head, and saying to myself that no, it's not Llo-Lleo, which is Molle, and look at the top of the pen. She finished, and I raise my head, while turning the device that has managed to divert my attention from the nerves and bald head that looks at me, and I look with some comfort and a hint of a smile, and asks me talk to you about Aconcagua.
Aconcagua. It took me a moment's rest, two forward and two reverse turns the black pencil that accompanies me to draw an "as is" makes me win reprimanded for using a crutch. Another twist in pencil, safety, and changed to a "is" because it is PIT in Central Chile, and look at me "well" and then I remember the exact dating, which brings a smile to the Inquisitor hear, and then I remember the presence of irrigation canals, there is no rock art, as I said Niemeyer, and even out of my memory the categories of ceramics and serving, remembering the pucos, which had been smoothed brown "look egg "for their coarseness, but that it was essential for its role in cooking. I pause. "Parties and English horse," he says, I remember the colt, a foal that few know, and tell me continue. I remember two or three things. "Anything else?" He asks. I roll the pen with audible clicks and see if the pace gives me another answer. Nothing more. I hope, look at the sheet, and says, "a six ...". Do not listen to what follows. A six is \u200b\u200bthe number that will follow, is more than I expected.
Second round of questions. Five truck was in the first two of the respondents, because they just can answer one or two words about what you ask. My prayer has pencil passes slowly between my fingers, and after hearing the number of four letters and mentally I can go with something music, and no longer "Boxers" because though they bring a knockout in the last question, at least I won a round. The first container is removed, and our executioner out of an ace up his sleeve that he had cut many heads in the previous round. Question by a "maca". The fat man laughs nerves, and do not know. A one. The girl with the glasses does not know, and attempts to articulate an excuse for a license that no one can understand well. It is not helpful, of course. It is less people in that room, and not delivered the work of again. And when he says "Inca" I know that is not with "c", that the case is called "makka" and that if our questioner had said "aryballos" probably one of the above questioned could have given the answer. Gives enough detail boy, while I took the face and open mouth with an expression of "I remember everything," as if they had replanted the memory, and then back to the pen, thinking that this question will not be for me, as It skips some details that make a four and remove both, and the lack of work does not give a good grade, but earned the epithet of "intelligent" teacher. It has a good mitigating, however. Not be easy to do a thesis in Sociology at the same time trying to study for a field like this, archaeological items, ceramics incisions tembetá and reticulate.
We were three. One response is a rather bad, and a note of that. Then the girl again, and for the current to the nerves, the nerves that I have not been unleashed and myself have been unable to shake the legs, as so often in performances of flute and infinite terminal, I'm going to casting the mill that is my pen and turns, strong enough to expel a channel of peace that the Stoics such as envy thought a while ago, and that it has the girl next to me, this time responds more conclusions than clear, and is about to break, and the teacher tells him to calm down, and this time his answer is not given for good note. Leaves, holding back as he can. Go to the bathroom, I guess.
"We are alone, I think, and I laugh to myself. Paul looks outside, anxious for him to touch him, but allowed me a gesture of encouragement, I appreciate the time I try to avoid, because I was disruptive in the rate of pen that has rolled and rolled over the question undetermined minutes; lifeline of this shipwreck. Last question, and after some comments, the inquisitor was given the task of thinking what to ask this guy. Tell me about the Mapuche descent system. And my mouth seem to come out a story when I hear you say "It all started when Jose Toribio Medina ..." and then I remember the controversy Latcham-Guevara, and current, that current strong economy with as little turbulence that has enabled the mill flow through my hands in invisible water, it raises the count of the Indians of the Isla Mocha, and Silva, and double descent, and lakou CuGa. Anything else?, I hear that again. No, no more.
"There were some details of the article by Silva, but that's okay." A 6.4 tells me, and paradoxes of fate, I work it down to 6.1. "That's life, I think, still unconvinced that both very existence has brought me a shout well on a test like that, and that those orders have contained pseudo-parkinson my usually break out at times much more trivial than this. I make a few inquiries, I said that those who do go missing, and leave. I ask one or two as I was. It went well, what else could I say?, And their faces are still with them quizzically detail that was a six-one. Enter all, because there are no more, except the thumbs-up, which must cope with the speech, now have to expand on the paper. Let them deal with their own lions, and I go down the stairs and runs down the stairs the girl who goes to meet his lover, with an undisguised smile, and I still feel the spin, good turn, El Salvador turn of that pencil between my fingers, which was more than just a pencil, I think, as I tell myself that I have folded the hand, and that makes me laugh in silence, and makes me want to tell someone.
(Any resemblance to reality ... It is no coincidence.)
Greetings,
SE, LERM. Eduardo Peñailillo B.
