Half a Day
人生半日间
Naguib Mahfouz
I proceeded alongside my father， clutching his right hand， running to keep up with the long strides he was taking. All my clothes were new: the black shoes， the green school uniform， and the red tarboosh. My delight in my new clothes， however， was not altogether unmarred， for this was no feast day but the day on which I was to be cast into school for the first time.
My mother stood at the window watching our progress， and I would turn toward her from time to time， as though appealing for help. We walked along a street lined with gardens; on both sides were extensive fields planted with crops， prickly pears， henna trees， and a few date palms.
“Why school?“ I challenged my father openly.“I shall never do anything to annoy you.“
“I'm not punishing you，“ he said， laughing.“School's not a punishment. It's the factory that makes useful men out of boys. Don't you want to be like your father and brothers?“
I w