Today I woke up at 6 in the morning, like every Tuesday to go to the corner of Avenida de Mijas, where I pick up my companion to take me to school by car. Along the way he was thinking in the day I waited with my "lovely" wards, which I want both. And then I remembered a holy martyr of which I spoke to my dear friend Jose Maria Cordoba of Imola San Cassiano. Since today is my martyr. I explain:
Casiano was a school teacher. He taught his children the rudiments of grammar, while a special art: the shorthand, the art of condensing in a few signs the words. He is accused of being a Christian. And the evil persecutors have occurred to put you in the hands of their children, his disciples, to die tormented by them, and that the instruments of martyrdom are the same as that used to be worth learning.
"Why are you crying?" Asks one, "yourself, teacher, gave us these irons and you've started our hands. Look, I've done more than return the thousands of letters we get up and crying in your school . airarte have no reason to write it in your body, you yourself commanded: it never is idle the stylus in hand. I do not ask you, master stingy, we are always vacation negabas. Now we like to tap with the style and grooves draw parallels to another, and weave in stripes truncated chain. You can amend asoplados in long lines tiramira, if something was wrong hand unfaithful. Exercise your authority, you are entitled to punish the guilty if any of your students has been slow in drawing his features. "
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