I attend the 5th grade of an elementary school in Usti nad Labem.
The children from our class like me and accept me, but still they have some kind of an instinct inside telling them I am Romany. I am trying to hold on.
It was a normal day like any other at school: you know it from your own experience. But what happened inthe afternoon? A schoolmate came to me and told me that somebody had stolen her money from a bag she had left in theclassroom. I wasn’t much concerned about it because that is something quite normal in our school: it often happens.
But one boy – a gadjo, a white boy- said that I had stolen the money. I answered immediately that I hadn’t done it; I hadn’t even been in the classroom when it had happened.
I was so angry, I couldn’t stand it and I gave the boy one on his face. He said that he was going to report it to the headmistress that a Gypsy attacked him. I answered, “Yes, you can report it.” But he was afraid and he didn’t report anything.
The whole class stood there looking at me and everybody thought I had stolen the money. Our teacher came and told us that she would inspect our bags and I was the first to show her my bag.
I didn’t have anything in the bag, so I had to show her my pockets as well. Everybody thought I had stolen the money and everybody was surprised.
So who took the money?
At last it was found out that the money had been stolen by a white boy. I would never think that he could do something like that. He was a loner, and never talked much to us.
The whole class apologized to me and they learned a lesson from this event, I think.
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