‘Sister Carlotta,’ Farida whispered when the nun passed by. ‘Can I move to the front of the class to see the blackboard better?’ Because Farida was tall, she had to sit at the back of the class so as not to block the blackboard for the other girls. She did not like sitting at the back. The studious girls always sat in the front rows, attentive and close to the teacher. Farida’s neighbours were those girls who were either slow learners or bored with school. They would giggle together, pass notes and even doze on hot days. Farida resented that her height forced her to be in their company.

Sister Carlotta put her hands on her waist. ‘Didn’t I tell you that you have to go to the doctor and get yourself fitted for glasses?’ Her own thick, heavy-framed pair slid down her skinny nose. The lenses were convex pools, blowing her eyes up to the size of an owl’s. ‘Did you tell your father?’

Farida did not want to be questioned now. She wanted to know what was written on the board. She wanted to write down the answers. She had the material memorised and it was bristling in her head, jostling to spill over on to the page. ‘My father said no need.’ She felt ashamed.

Sister Carlotta gave an exasperated sigh and slapped her sturdy arms against her white skirt. The ruler scraped against the stiff cotton. ‘Nonsense, nonsense! When will these people learn? Come and sit in front then. But there are no vacant benches today. Oh, just sit at my desk.’

It was strange to sit at the teacher’s desk, up on the podium. Farida felt a sense of awe and privilege. There was a strong smell of chalk and her classmates sat several feet below, rows and rows of girls in their navy-blue uniform. It occurred to Farida for the first time that she wanted to be a teacher when she grew up. But this was not a time for daydreams. Already she had lost five minutes. She had to make haste. The questions were clear now in Sister Carlotta’s rounded cursive. Five questions each carrying twenty points, and Farida knew the answers to them all.

At home she lay awake and listened to her parents talking. ‘She will fail school,’ her mother was saying. ‘Without a pair of glasses she will not be able to read. This is what her teacher said.’

Her father’s voice was louder. ‘More expenses. Not just the fees, the uniform, the books – now you come up with something new. She will look ugly in glasses!’