KARI.
BackSmåprat med Léa
It was my first day of school as a mom. At first, I didn’t see her. She was the fourth-grade teacher. At first, what I noticed was the standing ovation her pupils gave her. Five years later, it was my second first day of school as a mom. From the very beginning, I saw her. She was the first-grade teacher. Round, prominent cheekbones highlighted by a wide smile. An accent that surely hinted, to those in the know, at the village or fjord of her childhood. A cheerful voice full of determination. A boyish haircut, with blonde strands falling across her forehead, electrifying her clear gaze. A mix of enthusiasm and kindness that made her pupils cheer, happy to see their teacher again after two months of vacation.