THE SCHOOL SWARMED with kids, all speaking Swedish too fast for Kelsi to understand. Everyone took their shoes off outside the classroom, so Kelsi did, too.
A smiling woman with a blond ponytail greeted Kelsi at the door to Room 3. “Hej. Jag heter, Gunilla. I’m your teacher.”
Kelsi smiled back. She had practiced Swedish at home with her mom, so she knew that meant, “Hello. My name is Gunilla.”
“Hej, Gunilla,” she said. It felt strange to call her teacher by her first name, but Mom had told her that they did things differently in Sweden. “Jag heter, Kelsi.”
Mom greeted Gunilla, then kissed Kelsi’s cheek. “Have a great first day, honey! I’ll pick you up after school.”
Now Kelsi was on her own. She took a deep breath.
The classroom looked cozy, like her classroom in Wisconsin, with beanbag chairs in one corner and posters of children on the walls. But instead of individual desks, this room had round tables with four students to a table. At least I don’t have to sit alone, she thought.
A few of the children went to a rack at the back of the room and grabbed headphones. Gunilla must have seen Kelsi looking confused because she explained, “The headphones are for when you need quiet.”
It seemed to be okay to talk in groups when Gunilla wasn’t teaching.
Gunilla walked Kelsi to a table with three other children. “Ida, Sanaa, och Lukas,” she said and pointed. Kelsi recognized that the word och meant “and.”
“Hello,” Lukas said.
“Hi,” Kelsi said, surprised. “You speak English?”
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