Brazzil

{mosimage}Much more than a school, it was a way of life: of militancy, of debate, of socializing together, of learning. We did not just attend it; we lived in the School of Engineering on Hospício Street in Recife.

We were many and, besides engineering, there we learned to live, to be militants, to think.

I had the privilege of spending five years in the School, during the incredible period of 1962 to 1966.

These were historic years during which, concurrently, the Brazilian Northeast dreamed of development, Brazil passed through times of revolution and military coup, the democracy was transformed into dictatorship.

While this was happening, a group of young people received an education in engineering, political involvement, and personal maturation. That was a modern version of the Paideia, the school for educating young Greeks.

As part of our education, we all sat on the white marble steps before the first class or during the breaks between classes, watching the girls passing by, telling jokes, discussing politics.

During class time, we dove into the diverse areas of mathematics, physics, design, engineering techniques.

Socializing occurred around Professor Newton Maia, with his white hair and proud gait, who made the students jump like soldiers with his simple presence; in the political solidarity with militants; or in the most absolute revelry with partying classmates.

We were multifaceted revolutionaries. In the politics of transforming the economic and social structures, reforms that appeared so inevitable we had the impression we would grasp them with our hands, right around the next corner of history.

In the engineering theories transmitted to us. In the changes brought by the economic development of the Northeast; they were concrete, visible all around us, so much so that we could feel them. In the changes in the personal life of a middle class that suddenly grew richer, provoking a revolution in customs.

After the military takeover of 1964, we were all survivors. Each one had his or her different degree of fear; some were prisoners; others, discovering the mysteries and risks of the clandestine life.

Still kindled, our dreams found new roads to build: the possibility of personal success, the expectation of recapturing democracy, and even, for the most courageous, the construction of socialism.

In the midst of all this, an alluring center, our volcano of ideas: the big house on Hospício Street.

On the day of the anniversary of the School, now marking 110 years of its history, besides recalling schoolmates and professors, classes and the breaks between them, I find that my most powerful memory is that of the School itself, as if it had its own personality.

It is the womb that gestated an entire generation. I think of the School of Engineering as if it were smiling, proud of its children, keeping track of their education.

As if it sheltered us, protected us from the political inclemencies. As if it suffered for those who disappeared for months, prisoners in the dungeons of the DOPS (Department of Political and Social Order); for those who suffered assaults, like Cândido Pinto; and for those who were killed, like Reis Frazão.

It, our School, was the center of the world.

Cristovam Buarque has a Ph.D. in economics. He is a PT senator for the Federal District and was Governor of the Federal District (1995-98) and Minister of Education (2003-04). You can visit his homepage - www.cristovam.com.br - and write to him at cristovam@senador.gov-br.

Translated from the Portuguese by Linda Jerome - LinJerome@cs.com.

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