"There I discovered what poverty was, that is to say what violence it brought—poverty in very harsh forms. And there, I cried and I cried. I cried before going to work, I smoked two packs of cigarettes a day, I cried when I left work, I had stomach aches, I didn't want to go. Except that I was caught in a crazy bind. My parents had paid for me to study literature—and in the family, reading books wasn't seen as a real job (...)—and (...) I couldn't tell them that I was always in tears, that things weren't working out and that being a teacher wasn't going well. So there was a struggle and I jumped into the ring. I had to hold on and make it work. I would go swimming after work, putting in place exercise routines to make myself stronger to be able to keep it up.”
“And then there was a major incident. I had a big incident with a student who exploded in class (…) With a calm I didn't know I had in me—I didn't even know I was capable of being that calm in any situation—I had a meeting with the head teacher who said to me, 'You have to understand that these are your children. They're not students, they're your children. You have to cherish them, care for them like your own children.'”
“And then I said to myself, 'Well, I'm going to have to ask for help to make this work’ (….) And I did. And I kept at it.”
“If one day I have to leave this job (…) I won't leave it by running away—that's impossible.”