The Fighting Eraser
by Grandmother Hilda
Prologue
There are days in school life that are never forgotten. Days when the most common and ordinary things become extraordinary, where magic seems to hide in the most unexpected places. This is the story of Panchita, a dedicated and responsible girl, who discovered that sometimes, even the smallest and most insignificant objects can teach us the biggest lessons about patience, creativity, and staying calm when everything seems to spiral out of control.
In a small town where families were humble but rich in love, where children valued each pencil and each eraser as precious treasures, something happened that no one could have imagined. An ordinary day became extraordinary, and a simple eraser became the protagonist of an unforgettable adventure.
Chapter 1: The Little Town of Hope
High in the mountains, surrounded by green meadows and crystal-clear streams, there was a town so small it barely appeared on maps. It was called Villa Esperanza, and although its houses were humble and its streets unpaved, the hearts of its inhabitants were as big as the sky that sheltered them.
In this little town, there was a small school painted white and blue, with a red roof that gleamed under the morning sun. It wasn’t a large or modern school, but it was the pride of the entire community. Its walls had been painted by the parents themselves, the benches had been built by the town’s carpenters, and the garden had been planted with love by the grandparents who remembered their own school days.
The school had only three classrooms, but it resonated with the laughter of hundreds of boys and girls who arrived each morning with their patched backpacks and their carefully polished shoes. They were children of farmers, shopkeepers, artisans, of large families where every peso counted, where each school supply was a small treasure that had to be cared for with all the love in the world.
Among these children was Panchita, a girl with big, bright eyes and two dark braids that her mother made for her every morning before breakfast. Panchita was the fourth of six siblings, and although nothing was ever in excess at her house, there was always enough love, enough hugs, enough stories told by the fire on cold nights.
“Panchita, don’t forget your pencil case,” her mother reminded her every morning, giving her a kiss on the forehead. “Take care of your supplies as if they were gold, because to us they are.”
And Panchita did. Her flowered fabric pencil case, sewn by her grandmother with scraps of different fabrics, was her most precious treasure. Inside she carefully kept her graphite pencils (three in total, sharpened to precision), her colored pencils (a box of twelve she had received for her birthday), her metal sharpener (which she had inherited from her older sister), and her eraser.
Ah, the eraser. It was a pink, soft, rectangular eraser that smelled like strawberry. Panchita had bought it herself with coins she had saved by helping her neighbor, Doña Carmen, with groceries. She had chosen it carefully from among all the erasers at Mr. Ramírez’s little store, because it was the prettiest and the one that erased best without leaving stains on the paper.
“This eraser and I are going to do great things together,” Panchita had said the day she bought it, storing it reverently in her pencil case.
But what Panchita didn’t know was that this eraser, her beloved pink strawberry-scented eraser, had very different plans for one particular day.
Chapter 2: The Morning of the Exam
Tuesday dawned fresh and clear. The sun peeked timidly between the mountains as Panchita prepared to go to school. Her mother, as every day, was in the kitchen preparing breakfast: hot tortillas, refried beans, and a little fresh cheese she had made the night before.
“Good morning, my girl,” her mother greeted with a smile. “Eat well, you have the math exam today, right?”
Panchita nodded, feeling a small flutter of nerves in her stomach. The math exam was important. Teacher Rosalía had announced it a week in advance, and Panchita had studied every afternoon, reviewing the multiplications, divisions, and logic problems.
“Yes, Mom. But don’t worry, I studied a lot. I know all the tables up to twelve.”
“That’s my studious girl,” her mother said proudly, serving her an extra portion of beans. “Remember to check your pencil case carefully before leaving. Don’t let anything be missing.”
After breakfast, Panchita went to the room she shared with her two younger sisters. She took her flowered pencil case and carefully verified that everything was in place: the three graphite pencils, sharpened and ready; the colored pencils, arranged from lightest to darkest; the shiny sharpener; and her pink eraser.
“Perfect,” she murmured to herself, closing the pencil case zipper. “Everything is ready.”
The walk to school was a twenty-minute walk along a path that crossed the field. Panchita went with her older siblings, Pedro and Lucía, who sang songs and played games guessing which cloud looked most like an animal. The air smelled of wet earth and wildflowers, and the singing of birds accompanied their steps.
Upon arriving at school, Panchita met her classmates in the courtyard. Everyone was talking about the exam with a mixture of nervousness and excitement.
“I studied until nine at night,” said Toñito, adjusting his glasses. “My dad helped me with the difficult problems.”
“I did all the exercises in the book,” added Marita, Panchita’s best friend. “Did you study a lot, Panchita?”
“Yes, but I’m still a little nervous,” admitted Panchita. “Long division always complicates me.”
“Don’t worry,” Marita consoled her. “You’re very good at math. I’m sure you’ll do very well.”
The bell rang, calling the children to line up. Teacher Rosalía, a middle-aged woman with her hair pulled back in a bun and an always kind smile, waited at the classroom door. She wore her favorite blue dress and held a folder with the newly photocopied exams.
“Good morning, children,” she greeted in a warm voice. “I hope you had a good breakfast and come with your batteries charged. Today is an important day, but I don’t want you to get nervous. Just do your best, okay?”
“Yes, teacher!” everyone responded in unison.
As they entered the classroom orderly, Panchita felt her heart beat a little faster. She took her seat in the third row, next to the window, and placed her pencil case on the worn wooden desk. The morning sun came through the window, illuminating the dust particles floating in the air like little stars.
Panchita took a deep breath and opened her pencil case, taking out a well-sharpened graphite pencil. She looked at her pink eraser, which rested peacefully among the colored pencils.
“You and I are going to work very well together today,” she whispered to the eraser, not imagining what was about to happen.
Chapter 3: The Exam Begins
Teacher Rosalía walked among the rows of desks, distributing the exam sheets with a reassuring smile. Silence filled the classroom, broken only by the sound of the sheets being placed on each desk and the occasional nervous clearing of a student’s throat.
“You have one hour to complete the exam,” announced the teacher, consulting the wall clock hanging above the blackboard. “Remember to read each question carefully, check your answers, and don’t forget to put your name. If you have any questions, raise your hand and I’ll come help you.”
Panchita took the exam sheet with slightly trembling hands. She headed it with her full name: Francisca Morales González, but everyone knew her as Panchita. She looked at the questions: there were twenty in total, divided into sections of multiplications, divisions, fractions, and logic problems.
“It’s not that difficult,” she told herself, taking her pencil. “I can do it.”
She began with the first questions, the multiplications. Her pencil glided smoothly over the paper as she wrote the numbers in her best handwriting. 7 x 8 = 56. 12 x 9 = 108. 15 x 6 = 90. The answers flowed easily, the fruit of hours of study.
Around her, she could hear the scraping of pencils against paper, the occasional sigh of concentration, the soft creaking of chairs when someone adjusted themselves. Teacher Rosalía walked silently among the rows, observing her students’ progress with an attentive and loving gaze.
Panchita reached question number ten and realized she had made a small mistake. It wasn’t serious, but she needed to erase it. Without thinking much, she extended her hand toward her pencil case to take her pink eraser.
But at that precise moment, something extraordinary began to happen.
First it was a slight movement, almost imperceptible. Panchita’s pencil case shook slightly, as if something inside it was waking up. Panchita frowned, confused. Maybe it had been her imagination, or maybe the old wood of the desk had settled.
But then it happened again, stronger this time. The pencil case gave a small jump on the desk, and Panchita heard a strange sound, like small taps coming from inside.
“What…?” she murmured, slowly opening the zipper of her pencil case.
And that’s when she saw it. Her pink eraser, her precious strawberry-scented eraser, was trembling. No, not just trembling. It was… moving?
Before Panchita could process it, the eraser gave a spectacular jump, leaping out of the pencil case like an acrobat in a circus. It did a somersault in the air and landed on the desk with a soft “plop.”
Panchita blinked, unable to believe what her eyes were seeing. Her eraser was bouncing on the desk, giving small hops, as if it had a life of its own.
“But… what’s happening?” she whispered, completely astonished.
And then, to her absolute surprise, she heard other similar sounds coming from all over the classroom. She looked around and was left open-mouthed.
It wasn’t just her eraser. All the pencil cases in the classroom were trembling, shaking, moving. And from each of them, the erasers began to jump, to hop, to dance on the desks as if they had magically come to life.
It was as if all the erasers in the school had agreed to cause mischief at the most inopportune moment possible.
The classroom, which had been in sepulchral silence moments before, exploded in a chorus of surprised exclamations.
Chapter 4: The Chaos of the Erasers
“Teacher! My eraser is jumping!” shouted Toñito, adjusting his glasses with one hand while with the other he tried to catch his eraser that was bouncing like a rubber ball.
“Mine too!” exclaimed Marita, looking with wide eyes at how her blue eraser was spinning on her desk like a crazed top.
“This is incredible!” laughed Carlitos from the last row, while his green eraser did pirouettes in the air.
Teacher Rosalía dropped the pen she was holding. Her face was a perfect portrait of total astonishment. In her twenty years of experience as a teacher, never, absolutely never, had she witnessed anything remotely like this.
“Children, children, please…” she began to say, but her voice faded when she saw that her own eraser, the one she always kept in her desk drawer, had jumped and was now bouncing merrily on a pile of ungraded notebooks.
The classroom had transformed into a circus spectacle. There were erasers jumping, bouncing, spinning, sliding. Some did pirouettes in the air before landing. Others rolled on the floor like small wheels. A particularly mischievous eraser was balancing on the edge of the trash can as if it were an acrobat on a tightrope.
The children, momentarily forgetting the exam, tried to catch their erasers. But the erasers seemed to be playing cat and mouse, dodging the hands that extended toward them, jumping just when they were about to be captured.
“Stay still!” Juanito pleaded, chasing his yellow eraser that was rolling under the desks.
“I can’t grab it!” lamented Sofía, while her white eraser jumped from one side of her desk to the other.
Panchita observed her pink eraser with a mixture of fascination and concern. The eraser had stopped jumping and now was… walking? Yes, it was definitely walking on the desk, moving with small steps as if it had invisible little legs.
“Please, eraser, I have to finish my exam,” Panchita whispered, carefully extending her hand.
But just when her fingers were about to touch it, the eraser jumped backward, as if it were playing. Panchita could swear that if erasers could laugh, this one would be laughing at her.
Teacher Rosalía, recovering from her initial surprise, clapped her hands trying to get the children’s attention.
“Children, children! Order, please!” her voice rose above the commotion. “I know this is… unusual, but we need to stay calm.”
“Unusual?” murmured Toñito. “This is impossible! Erasers can’t move on their own!”
“Clearly they can,” observed Marita, looking with saucer eyes at the erasers that continued their chaotic dance. “Do you think it’s magic, teacher?”
Teacher Rosalía had no answer. In all her years of teaching, she had seen many things: mice in the classroom, birds that came through the windows, even once a bat that caused a small chaos. But erasers with a life of their own… this was new.
“I don’t know what’s happening,” she admitted honestly, “but we need to find a way to… to…”
Her words were interrupted by a shout from Panchita.
Chapter 5: The Mischievous Eraser
“Teacher! My eraser is erasing my exam!” exclaimed Panchita, her voice full of anguish.
Everyone in the classroom turned to look. Indeed, Panchita’s pink eraser, as if it had a mind of its own, had positioned itself on the exam sheet and was sliding from one side to the other, methodically erasing all the answers that Panchita had written so carefully.
“No, no, no!” Panchita tried to push the eraser away, but it was surprisingly fast. It jumped over her hand, dodged it, and continued with its mission to erase.
Panchita felt tears beginning to accumulate in her eyes. She had studied so much, had come so far in the exam, and now all her answers were being erased. Frustration, confusion, and exhaustion mixed in her chest like a storm.
“7 x 8 = 56…” she murmured as she wrote the answer the eraser had just erased again.
But as soon as she finished writing, the eraser passed over the numbers again, leaving only gray smudges in their place.
“Please, stop!” Panchita begged. “I need to finish my exam.”
The eraser, however, seemed to completely ignore her. Now it was erasing the divisions, moving with a determination that would have been admirable if it weren’t so frustrating.
Tears finally overflowed Panchita’s eyes and began to roll down her cheeks. It wasn’t just about the exam. It was because she felt helpless, because something as simple and reliable as her eraser had become completely unpredictable.
Teacher Rosalía, with her educator’s heart always attentive to her students’ needs, immediately noticed Panchita’s distress. Setting aside her own confusion about the phenomenon of the jumping erasers, she walked quickly to the girl’s desk.
“Panchita, mijita, what’s wrong?” she asked in a soft voice, kneeling next to the desk to be at eye level with the girl.
Panchita, between sobs, pointed to her exam sheet, now full of gray smudges where there had been carefully written answers.
“My… my eraser… won’t let me write, teacher,” she managed to say between hiccups. “It erases everything I write and… and a lot of time has passed and I won’t be able to finish and…”
“Shh, shh, calm down, my girl,” Teacher Rosalía surrounded her with a consoling arm. “Breathe deeply. Like that, very good.”
Panchita obeyed, taking a big breath that made her shoulders tremble.
“Listen to me carefully,” the teacher continued, with that warm and firm voice that only good teachers know how to use. “What’s happening with the erasers is very strange, it’s true. Nobody understands what’s going on. But that doesn’t mean you’re going to fail, do you hear me?”
Panchita nodded weakly, wiping the tears with the back of her hand.
“I know how much you studied,” said Teacher Rosalía. “I saw you stay after class last week to review. I saw how you helped Toñito with divisions. You’re a dedicated and hardworking girl, and a small setback like this isn’t going to change that.”
“But my exam…” began Panchita.
“I’m going to give you extra time,” interrupted the teacher with an understanding smile. “In fact, I think everyone will need a little more time with these mischievous erasers. Don’t worry about the clock. Focus on doing your best.”
“Really, teacher?” Panchita’s eyes lit up a bit through the tears.
“Really. And now, go back to your seat, take another pencil, and show that playful eraser that you’re smarter than it is.”
Panchita smiled despite everything. She dried the last tears and nodded with renewed determination.
“Thank you, teacher.”
“You’re welcome, mijita. I’m here to help you, always.”
Teacher Rosalía stood up and addressed the rest of the class, who had been watching the exchange with interest.
“Listen everyone,” she announced. “I know this is a very unusual situation, but we’re going to stay calm. You have extra time to finish the exam. Do your best and don’t let these mischievous erasers distract you too much.”
The children nodded, although their eyes kept following the movement of the erasers that continued their dance around the classroom.
Panchita sat down again, took her pencil, and looked at her pink eraser that was now motionless on the edge of the desk, as if it were resting after so much erasing effort.
“Very well,” whispered Panchita, staring at the eraser. “You win this round. But I’m going to finish this exam, whether you like it or not.”
And with renewed determination, she began to rewrite her answers, ready for the next round of this unusual battle.
Chapter 6: The Battle Continues
Panchita wrote her name again at the top of the sheet, this time with firmer, more decisive strokes. Her pencil pressed the paper with determination as she rewrote the first question: 7 x 8 = 56.
She kept one eye on her pink eraser, which remained still on the edge of the desk, as if it were watching her. For a moment, Panchita wondered if erasers could really see, if there were tiny invisible eyes following every movement of her pencil.
The eraser stayed still. Panchita continued writing. 12 x 9 = 108. 15 x 6 = 90.
Three questions completed without interference. Panchita began to relax a little. Maybe the magical moment had passed. Maybe the erasers had tired of their game and would now allow the children to finish their exams in peace.
But just when Panchita was beginning to believe that everything would return to normal, the eraser moved.
It didn’t jump like before. This time, it slid slowly toward the exam sheet, like a cat stalking its prey. Panchita watched it cautiously, her pencil remaining motionless in the air.
“Don’t you dare,” she murmured.
The eraser stopped, as if it had understood the warning. For a moment, neither of them moved. It was a duel of wills: girl versus eraser.
Then, in a movement so fast that Panchita barely had time to react, the eraser jumped forward and began to erase again. But this time, Panchita was prepared.
With her left hand, she tried to block the eraser while with her right she continued writing. The eraser bounced against her palm and, to Panchita’s total surprise, she felt a small tap, as if the eraser had given her a gentle push.
“Ouch!” she exclaimed, more from surprise than pain. “Now you hit too?”
Around her, Panchita could hear similar stories from her classmates:
“My eraser got into Juanito’s pencil case!” reported Sofía.
“Mine is making little hills with the sharpener shavings!” added Carlos with a mixture of frustration and fascination.
“I think my eraser is trying to write!” shouted Marita, pointing to the strange marks her eraser was leaving on the paper.
Teacher Rosalía walked back and forth in the classroom, trying to maintain order while dealing with her own rebellious eraser, which had decided it was fun to hide between the pages of the attendance book.
Panchita returned her attention to her own battle. The pink eraser was now trying to get into the pencil case of her neighbor, Lupita, a quiet girl with round glasses that made her look like a studious owl.
“Hey!” protested Panchita, carefully taking the eraser between her fingers. “You stay here, in my pencil case.”
But the eraser had other ideas. As soon as Panchita released it inside her pencil case and closed the zipper, she heard sounds of protest from inside. Small taps against the fabric, as if the eraser were trying to escape.
Panchita ignored the sounds and returned to focus on her exam. She had already lost a lot of time, and although the teacher had promised to give them extra time, she didn’t want to take advantage of her generosity.
She immersed herself in a long division problem: 144 divided by 12. She began to work the problem step by step, as the teacher had taught her. 12 in 14 goes 1 time, bring down the 4…
A movement in the corner of her vision distracted her. She looked up and almost fell off her chair.
Her eraser had escaped from the pencil case. How? Panchita had no idea. The zipper was still closed, but there was the eraser, on the desk, moving slowly toward her exam sheet again.
“How did you get out of there?” whispered Panchita, genuinely impressed despite her frustration.
The eraser didn’t respond, of course. Instead, it did something completely unexpected: it began to roll toward the edge of the desk.
“No, no, no!” Panchita extended her hand quickly, catching the eraser just before it fell to the floor. “If you fall down there, I’ll never find you.”
She held the eraser firmly in her closed fist. She could feel it moving, pushing against her fingers, like a bird trying to escape from a cage. It was the strangest sensation she had experienced in her life.
“Teacher,” Panchita called, raising her other hand. “My eraser still won’t behave. What do I do?”
Teacher Rosalía approached, looking more tired than Panchita had ever seen her. Her perfect bun had partially come undone, and there was a chalk stain on her blue dress.
“Oh, Panchita,” she sighed. “This is… this is completely inexplicable. In all my years teaching…”
“I know, teacher,” said Panchita with empathy. “It must be very difficult for you too.”
The teacher smiled weakly at the girl’s understanding.
“Look,” she said, thinking quickly. “Why don’t you try putting the eraser in your desk drawer? Maybe if it can’t see you, it will stay still.”
It was a simple idea, but Panchita was willing to try anything. She opened her desk drawer, which contained some old books and a scarf forgotten from last winter, and carefully placed the eraser inside.
“Stay there,” she ordered firmly, closing the drawer.
For exactly thirty seconds, there was peace. Panchita managed to complete two more problems. But then she heard noises coming from the drawer. Taps. Scratches. As if something small were desperately trying to get out.
Panchita opened the drawer a crack to look inside. The eraser was… jumping? Yes, it was jumping inside the drawer, bouncing against the wooden walls like a ball in a box.
“Okay, okay,” Panchita sighed, taking the eraser again. “Clearly you don’t like being locked up.”
She looked at her eraser, at her half-completed exam, and then at the clock. There had to be a way to finish this exam, even with a rebellious eraser.
And then, she had an idea.
Chapter 7: An Unexpected Agreement
“Very well, Miss Eraser,” said Panchita, holding the eraser at eye level. “We’re going to make a deal.”
If anyone had heard Panchita talking to her eraser, they probably would have thought she had gone crazy. But considering that the erasers throughout the classroom were dancing, jumping, and causing mischief, talking to one didn’t seem so far-fetched.
“You want to move, right?” Panchita continued. “That’s okay. You can move. But only after I finish each section of the exam. Deal?”
The eraser gave no signs of having understood, but Panchita chose to take it as a tacit agreement. She placed the eraser in the upper right corner of her desk, as far as possible from her exam sheet.
“Now stay there,” she said firmly. “I’m going to finish these divisions, and then you can… do whatever magical erasers do.”
To her surprise, the eraser stayed still. Panchita didn’t waste time. She immersed herself in the division problems with fierce concentration. 144 divided by 12 = 12. 256 divided by 16 = 16. Her fingers flew over the paper, her mind calculated quickly, checking each answer twice before moving to the next.
The eraser remained in place, although Panchita could swear she saw it tremble occasionally, as if it were containing the urge to move.
“Just a little more,” murmured Panchita. “I’m almost done with this section.”
She completed the last division problem and, true to her word, set down the pencil and looked at the eraser.
“Okay,” she said. “Your turn.”
As if it had been waiting for permission, the eraser began to move immediately. But this time it didn’t go toward the exam sheet. Instead, it began to do pirouettes in place, spinning and spinning like a ballet dancer on a stage.
Panchita couldn’t help but smile.
“You’re very weird, you know that?” she told the eraser. “But I guess that’s okay. I’m a little weird sometimes too.”
The eraser finished its dance and stayed still again, as if it were waiting for instructions.
“Now come the fractions,” Panchita explained. “These are important, so please, don’t distract me until I’m done, okay?”
Again, the eraser seemed to understand. It stayed in its corner while Panchita worked on the fraction problems. ½ + ¼ = ¾. ⅔ - ⅓ = ⅓. These problems were more complicated, required more concentration, but Panchita had studied hard and knew exactly what to do.
Around her, the chaos continued. Toñito was chasing his eraser under the desks. Marita had caught hers and had wrapped it in a handkerchief, only to discover that the eraser could jump through the fabric. Carlos had decided to give up and was watching with fascination how his eraser was building a small tower with pencil shavings.
But Panchita and her eraser seemed to have reached an understanding. They worked in turns: Panchita solved problems, the eraser danced and moved. It was a strange but functional rhythm.
“You know,” said Panchita as she completed a particularly difficult fraction problem, “I think we’re making a good team. It’s weird, but it works.”
The eraser gave a small jump, which Panchita chose to interpret as agreement.
When she finished the fractions section, Panchita consulted the clock. A lot of time had passed, but she still had enough left to complete the last section: the logic problems.
“These are the hardest,” she confided to the eraser. “I need to think a lot to solve them. Do you think you can stay extra still for these?”
The eraser became so motionless that Panchita wondered if it had become a normal eraser again. But no, she could see the slight tremor running through it, the contained energy waiting to be released.
Panchita read the first logic problem: “If María has twice as many apples as Juan, and Juan has three fewer apples than Pedro, who has eight apples, how many apples does María have?”
Her mind began to work, unraveling the problem step by step. Pedro has 8. Juan has 8 - 3 = 5. María has 5 x 2 = 10. She carefully wrote the answer: María has 10 apples.
The eraser didn’t move. Panchita smiled and continued with the next problem.
It was as if the eraser knew how important these last problems were, as if it understood that Panchita needed all her concentration. And in an act of companionship that Panchita would never have imagined possible from an eraser, it stayed perfectly still until Panchita wrote the answer to the last problem.
“I did it!” exclaimed Panchita, raising her pencil in triumph. “I finished the whole exam!”
The eraser, as if in celebration, gave the highest jump it had given all day, doing a triple pirouette in the air before landing softly on Panchita’s open palm.
“We did it,” Panchita corrected, gently closing her fingers around the eraser. “We did it together.”
Chapter 8: The End of the Phenomenon
The clock marked eleven-thirty when the bell finally rang, signaling the end of the school day. It was a familiar sound that normally filled the children with joy and anticipation for recess or going home. But today, that simple sound meant much more.
At the exact moment the bell emitted its last chime, something extraordinary happened. All the erasers in the classroom, as if they had received an invisible signal, stopped moving simultaneously.
Toñito’s eraser, which had been rolling in circles around the trash can, stopped dead. Marita’s, which had been trying to climb the pile of books on her desk, fell softly onto the desk. Carlos’s, which had been building increasingly elaborate structures with pencil shavings, became motionless next to its small masterpiece.
And Panchita’s pink eraser, resting in her palm, became completely still. There were no more tremors, no shakes, no that vibrant energy it had possessed all morning. It was, once again, just an ordinary eraser.
Silence filled the classroom. The children looked at each other with wide eyes, as if they had just awakened from a shared dream.
“Is it… is it over?” asked Toñito timidly, touching his eraser with a cautious finger.
“I think so,” responded Marita, taking her blue eraser and examining it carefully. “It’s not moving anymore.”
Teacher Rosalía, who had been sitting at her desk observing the development of events with a mixture of astonishment and exhaustion, stood up slowly. She picked up her own eraser from the attendance book where it had been hidden and held it in her hand.
“Children,” she said with a slightly trembling voice, “I think you just experienced one of the most extraordinary experiences any class has ever had.”
“What was that, teacher?” asked Sofía. “Why did the erasers come to life?”
Teacher Rosalía shook her head slowly.
“Honestly, I don’t know. I have no explanation for what just happened. In all my years teaching, I had never seen anything like this.”
“Do you think it was magic?” asked Carlos with bright eyes.
“Or maybe a dream,” suggested Lupita. “Maybe we all fell asleep and dreamed the same thing.”
“It wasn’t a dream,” said Panchita firmly, looking at her completed exam. “I have my exam as proof. And all these eraser stains too.”
“Panchita is right,” agreed the teacher. “Whatever it was, it was real. We all lived it.”
There was silence as the children processed their teacher’s words. Then, slowly, they began to collect their things, putting away their supplies with new respect and care, as if each pencil, each sharpener, each eraser, could at any moment reveal magical secrets.
Panchita put her pink eraser in her pencil case with special care. She looked at it one last time before closing the zipper.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For helping me finish. In your strange way, you helped me concentrate more.”
If the eraser heard, it gave no signs of it. But Panchita was sure she had felt a small tremor of recognition.
Teacher Rosalía walked among the rows, collecting the exams. When she reached Panchita’s desk, she stopped and looked at the sheet with attention.
“Panchita,” she said with a warm smile, “despite everything that happened today, despite all the distractions and problems, you completed the entire exam. And from what I see here, you did very well.”
Panchita felt her chest swell with pride.
“Really, teacher?”
“Really. Tell me, how did you manage it? How could you concentrate with all this chaos?”
Panchita thought for a moment before responding.
“I made a deal with my eraser,” she explained. “I gave it space to move and play, but at the right times. I learned that sometimes you can’t fight against strange things that happen. You just have to find a way to work with them.”
Teacher Rosalía looked at her with an expression of pride and surprise.
“That’s a very wise lesson, Panchita. Much more valuable than any math problem.”
The children began to leave the classroom, still talking excitedly about what had happened. Their voices mixed in a chorus of astonishment and enthusiasm:
“Wait until I tell my mom!”
“Nobody’s going to believe this!”
“It was the best math class in history!”
Panchita picked up her backpack and headed toward the door, but stopped when she heard her teacher’s voice.
“Panchita, one moment, please.”
The girl turned, wondering if she had done something wrong.
“Yes, teacher?”
Teacher Rosalía approached and knelt to be at Panchita’s eye level.
“I just wanted to tell you that I’m very proud of you. Not just for finishing the exam, but for how you handled a completely impossible situation. You showed patience, creativity, and determination. Those are qualities that will take you very far in life.”
Panchita felt her face warm with a blush of happiness.
“Thank you, teacher. You were also very patient with all of us today.”
“Well,” the teacher smiled, “you keep me young. Or at least, you keep me surprised. Now go, your mom must be waiting for you.”
Panchita left the classroom to the sunny courtyard where her mother was waiting along with the other mothers and fathers who came to pick up their children. The sun shone warm on the small school courtyard, and a gentle breeze brought the smell of wildflowers growing in the nearby mountains.
“Mom!” called Panchita, running toward her mother.
“Hello, my love,” her mother received her with a hug. “How did you do on the exam?”
Panchita opened her mouth to respond, but stopped. How could she explain to her mother what had happened? Would she believe her if she told her about the magical erasers?
But then she saw in her mother’s eyes that look of unconditional love, that expression that said “I’ll listen to you no matter what you say,” and she knew she could tell her anything.
“Mom,” she began as they walked along the path back home, “I had the strangest and most incredible day of my life. And it all started with my eraser…”
And as the sun began its descent toward the mountains, Panchita told her mother the whole story, from the first jump of the eraser to the final agreement they had made. Her mother listened with attention, with astonishment, and finally, with a smile.
“You know, Panchita,” said her mother when she finished the story, “sometimes life presents us with challenges in the most unexpected ways. What’s important isn’t that things always go as we planned, but how we respond when they don’t.”
“That’s exactly what the teacher said,” smiled Panchita.
“Then your teacher is very wise. And so are you, for learning it.”
They walked the rest of the way in comfortable silence, Panchita swinging her backpack that contained her pencil case, inside which rested a pink eraser that, for now, was just a normal eraser. But that would always be, for Panchita, a reminder that magic can appear in the most unexpected places, even on an ordinary school day.
Chapter 9: The Mystery Continues
That night, while Panchita had dinner with her family, she told and retold the story of the jumping erasers. Her siblings listened with wide eyes, occasionally interrupting with questions:
“And the eraser really jumped by itself?”
“Weren’t they pulling it with an invisible thread?”
“Did the teacher see it too?”
Her father, a quiet man who worked in the field and rarely was surprised by anything, shook his head with a smile.
“In my life I’ve seen many strange things,” he said, “but erasers with a life of their own… that really is new.”
“Do you think it will happen again, Panchita?” asked her younger sister, Rosita, with a mixture of excitement and fear.
Panchita looked at her backpack hanging on the hook next to the door, knowing that inside was her pencil case, and inside the pencil case, her pink eraser.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But if it happens, I already know how to handle it.”
After dinner, when the dishes had been washed and put away, and her younger siblings had gone to sleep, Panchita sat at the kitchen table with her mom, doing the next day’s homework under the warm light of the kerosene lamp.
She took out her pencil case and, with some caution, opened it. Her pink eraser rested peacefully among the pencils, showing no signs of the magical energy it had possessed hours before.
“Everything in order in there?” asked her mother with an amused smile.
“Yes,” responded Panchita. “It’s very quiet now.”
“Maybe it was tired from so much jumping and erasing.”
Panchita laughed, imagining her eraser exhausted after a day of mischief.
She worked on her Spanish homework, writing a composition about “A memorable day.” She had a lot to write. Every so often, she looked at her eraser sideways, but it remained completely motionless.
When she finished her homework, Panchita prepared for bed. She put on her pajamas, brushed her teeth, and got into the bed she shared with her two younger sisters, who were already fast asleep.
But before turning off the little candle on her nightstand, Panchita took out her pencil case one last time and opened it. She took the pink eraser in her hand.
“I know you probably can’t understand me,” she whispered in the darkness, “and I know that tomorrow you’ll probably just be a normal eraser again. But I want you to know that today, although it was frustrating and confusing, it was also magical. You taught me that I can handle unexpected things. Thank you for that.”
She put the eraser in the pencil case, closed the zipper, and blew out the candle. In the darkness, just before falling asleep, she could have sworn she heard a soft “plop,” like the sound of a small eraser giving a little jump.
But maybe it was just her imagination.
Or maybe not.
Chapter 10: The Day After
The next morning, Panchita woke up with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. Part of her wondered if it had all been a dream after all. Maybe she had fallen asleep during the exam and had dreamed the whole crazy adventure of the jumping erasers.
But when she opened her backpack and took out her pencil case, there was the proof: the gray stains on her exam sheet where the eraser had erased and re-erased her answers, the small wear on the corners of the eraser from so much use.
No, it definitely hadn’t been a dream.
The walk to school that morning was full of excited conversations. All the children in town were talking about what had happened the day before. The stories had spread quickly, each account more fantastic than the last.
“I heard the erasers flew all over the classroom.”
“They told me they formed a human pyramid. Well, an eraser pyramid.”
“My cousin says he saw an eraser chasing a cat.”
Panchita and her siblings walked together, listening to all the exaggerated versions of the story.
“Was it really as crazy as they say?” asked Pedro, her older brother.
“It was crazy,” confirmed Panchita, “but not as much as some of the stories they’re making up. The erasers didn’t fly, they just jumped. And they definitely didn’t chase any cat.”
Upon arriving at school, Panchita noticed there was a different energy in the air. The children were more excited than normal, everyone wanting to share their experiences from the day before. Even the children from other classes, who hadn’t experienced the phenomenon firsthand, wanted to hear the details.
But when the bell rang and the children entered the classroom, a nervous silence fell over them. Everyone looked at their pencil cases with a mixture of hope and apprehension. Would it happen again?
Teacher Rosalía was standing next to the blackboard, looking more rested than the day before. Her bun was perfectly done, her emerald green dress immaculate. But Panchita noticed something different in her eyes: a sparkle of curiosity, as if she too was waiting to see if the magic would repeat.
“Good morning, children,” she greeted in her usual warm voice.
“Good morning, teacher,” they responded in unison, though their voices sounded a little cautious.
“I know everyone is thinking about what happened yesterday,” the teacher began. “And I want you to know that I’ve thought a lot about it. I’ve talked to the principal, with other teachers, I even called my sister who is a scientist in the city.”
The children leaned forward, eager to hear.
“And the truth is… that nobody has an explanation. There’s no record of anything like this happening before. It is, for all purposes, a mystery.”
“But could it happen again?” asked Toñito.
The teacher smiled.
“Honestly, I don’t know. But I’ve decided that if it happens, we’ll be prepared. I’ve talked to the principal and we’ve agreed that if the erasers come to life again, we’ll take a break, observe them, maybe even study them. After all, not every day does one witness something truly magical.”
The children relaxed a little at these words. At least their teacher didn’t think they were crazy.
“Now then,” continued Teacher Rosalía, “before we begin with today’s lessons, I want to talk about yesterday’s exams.”
A nervous murmur ran through the classroom. With all the chaos, many children had forgotten that the exams needed to be graded.
“Given the extraordinary circumstances,” said the teacher, “I decided to be more flexible with grading. I took into account not only the correct answers, but also the effort and perseverance you showed in trying to complete the exam despite the… interruptions.”
She began to distribute the exams. When she reached Panchita’s desk, she placed the sheet with a special smile.
Panchita looked at her grade: 95 out of 100.
“Excellent work, Panchita,” said the teacher quietly. “Especially considering the circumstances.”
Panchita felt her heart swell with pride. All the stress, frustration, and tears from the day before had been worth it.
She looked at her pencil case on the desk. Her pink eraser was visible through the half-open zipper. It remained completely still, being just an ordinary eraser.
Panchita took it out and placed it in the palm of her hand.
“We did it,” she whispered. “Despite everything, we did it.”
The eraser, of course, didn’t respond. But Panchita could have sworn she felt it a little warmer in her hand, as if it shared her joy.
The day continued normally. They had reading class, where they read a story about a wizard who lost his powers. They had science class, where they learned about the phases of the moon. And they had art class, where they drew their favorite memories.
Panchita drew a pink eraser jumping on a desk, with a girl looking at it with eyes of astonishment.
Throughout the day, the children occasionally looked at their pencil cases, waiting, wondering if it would happen again. But the erasers remained completely normal, being nothing more than useful tools for erasing mistakes.
At the end of the day, as Panchita packed her things, Marita approached her desk.
“Hey, Panchita,” she said, “do you think it really happened? Sometimes I wonder if we all imagined it.”
Panchita smiled and showed her her drawing.
“It happened,” she said with certainty. “And even if it never happens again, we’ll always remember it. It was our magical day.”
“Our magical day,” repeated Marita with a smile. “I like that.”
Chapter 11: The Lesson
Days passed, then weeks, and then months. The phenomenon of the jumping erasers never repeated itself. Life at the small school in Villa Esperanza returned to normal, with its familiar routines and its small daily adventures.
But something had changed in the children who had lived through that extraordinary day, especially in Panchita.
One afternoon, several months after the incident, Teacher Rosalía asked the children to write a composition about “The most important lesson I’ve learned this year.” Panchita sat at her desk, with her beloved pink eraser beside her (now worn and smaller from constant use), and began to write.
“The most important lesson I learned this year I learned from an eraser,” began her composition.
She wrote about that memorable day, about the initial frustration, about the tears, about how she thought she would never be able to finish her exam. But then she wrote about the moment she decided not to fight the impossible, but to work with it.
“I learned that when things don’t go as we expect, we have two options,” she wrote. “We can get angry and give up, or we can be creative and find a new way to do things. My eraser taught me that sometimes, the biggest obstacles can become the best teachers if we know how to listen to what they’re teaching us.”
When Teacher Rosalía read Panchita’s composition, she had to blink quickly to contain the tears of pride that threatened to fall.
“Panchita,” she called after class, “your composition is beautiful. You’ve captured something very profound.”
“Thank you, teacher. But it’s the truth. That day taught me more than any book.”
“And that,” smiled the teacher, “is the sign of a true student. You don’t just learn from books, but from life itself.”
That afternoon, as Panchita walked home with her siblings, she held her backpack a little closer, knowing that inside was her pencil case, and inside the pencil case, an eraser that had been ordinary, then extraordinary, and then ordinary again. But that was now special in a different way: it was a reminder, a symbol, a lesson made object.
Upon arriving home, her mother noticed something different about her.
“You look thoughtful, my girl,” she commented as they prepared dinner together.
“I was thinking about my eraser,” explained Panchita, “and about that crazy day at school.”
“Ah, yes. The day of the jumping erasers. I’ll never forget the expression on your face when you told me.”
“Mom, do you think it was really magic? Or that there was a scientific explanation we never discovered?”
Her mother stopped in the middle of cutting a carrot and looked at Panchita with a thoughtful expression.
“You know, my girl, there are many types of magic in the world. There’s the magic of fairy tales, with wands and spells. But there’s also the magic of learning something new, the magic of overcoming a challenge, the magic of changing our perspective. Maybe what you experienced that day was a bit of both.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that maybe the erasers really jumped because of some phenomenon we don’t understand. Or maybe it was a collective hallucination. Or maybe it was a shared dream. But what really matters isn’t the scientific explanation, but what you learned from it. And from what you’ve told me, you learned something very valuable about patience, adaptability, and perseverance. That’s the real magic.”
Panchita hugged her mother, feeling deep gratitude for her wisdom.
“I think you’re right, Mom.”
“Of course I am,” her mother laughed. “I’m your mother. I’m always right.”
That night, before falling asleep, Panchita wrote in her diary (a notebook her grandmother had given her):
“Today the teacher asked us to write about the most important lesson of the year. I wrote about my eraser and about that crazy day. But now I realize that the lesson is even bigger than I thought.
It’s not just about being patient when things go wrong. It’s about understanding that sometimes, the strangest and most unexpected experiences are the ones that teach us the most. It’s about being open to magic, whether real or imagined, because that openness allows us to learn and grow.
My eraser is now small, almost worn out. Soon I’ll have to buy a new one. But I’ll keep this one, even when I can no longer use it to erase. I’ll keep it as a reminder that magic can appear at any moment, anywhere, even in the most ordinary things.
And when the next big challenge comes in my life, I’ll remember this day. I’ll remember that I can handle the unexpected. I’ll remember that I can find creative solutions. I’ll remember that I can make a deal even with a fighting eraser.
Because if I could do that, I can do anything.”
She closed her diary, put her pink eraser in its special place in the pencil case, and fell asleep with a smile on her face, dreaming of all the adventures and challenges the future would bring.
Epilogue: Years Later
Ten years later, Panchita, now a young elementary school teacher in the city, was preparing her classroom for her first day of teaching. She was placing books on shelves, organizing the desks, writing a welcome message on the blackboard.
On her desk, next to her coffee cup and her lesson planner, there was a small wooden box. She opened it carefully, revealing its contents: a pink eraser, small and worn, with barely a trace of the strawberry smell it once had.
One of her colleagues, passing by her door, peeked in with curiosity.
“What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the eraser.
Panchita smiled, taking the eraser reverently.
“This,” she said, “is a reminder of the most important lesson I learned when I was a student.”
“An eraser?” the colleague laughed. “What can an eraser teach you?”
“More than you imagine,” responded Panchita. “This eraser taught me that the best teachers sometimes come in the most unexpected packages. It taught me about patience, creativity, and perseverance. And it taught me that magic exists, if you know where to look for it.”
She carefully put the eraser back in its box.
“And now,” she continued, “as a teacher, I hope to teach those same lessons to my students. Not just through books and exams, but through the unexpected experiences that life brings us.”
The colleague looked at her with new understanding.
“I think you’re going to be a great teacher, Panchita.”
“I hope so. And if one day my students’ erasers come to life, at least I’ll know how to handle it.”
Both laughed, and Panchita returned to preparing her classroom, ready to embark on her own adventure as an educator, carrying with her the lessons that a small fighting eraser had taught her years ago.
Because some lessons, the most important ones, stay with us all our lives. And some erasers, although small and ordinary, become symbols of something much bigger: the power of adaptability, the beauty of the unexpected, and the magic that exists in the most common moments of life.
Lesson
Sometimes, life presents us with challenges in the most unexpected ways and at the most inconvenient times. It could be an important exam interrupted by strange events, a special project that goes wrong, or simply a day that doesn’t go as planned. In those moments, we have a fundamental choice: we can resist the unexpected and fight against it with frustration, or we can adapt our perspective and find creative ways to work within the new circumstances.
Panchita’s story and her fighting eraser remind us that true strength isn’t in perfectly controlling every situation, but in our ability to adapt when things don’t go as we expected. Panchita couldn’t make her eraser stop moving, but she found a way to work with it, to make an “agreement” that allowed her to complete her task despite the obstacle.
This lesson extends beyond the classroom. In life, we will find many “fighting erasers”: problems we can’t completely solve, situations we can’t control, obstacles we simply have to learn to navigate around. What’s important isn’t eliminating all obstacles from our path, but developing the patience, creativity, and perseverance to keep going despite them.
Furthermore, the story teaches us about the importance of staying calm in chaotic situations. When Panchita cried over her erased exam, her teacher didn’t scold her or minimize her feelings. Instead, she offered understanding, support, and extra time. This compassion allowed Panchita to recover and find a solution.
Finally, there’s a lesson about finding magic in the ordinary. A simple eraser, an object so common we rarely think about it, became the source of one of Panchita’s most memorable experiences. This reminds us that we should be open to surprise and wonder, even in the most unexpected places.
Life’s “fighting erasers” can be frustrating, they can make us cry, they can seem impossible to handle. But if we maintain patience, seek creative solutions, and remember that these challenges often teach us the most valuable lessons, we’ll discover that we’re stronger and more capable than we imagined.
And who knows, maybe years later, we’ll keep a memento of that difficult moment, not with bitterness, but with gratitude for what it taught us about ourselves and about the art of navigating a world that doesn’t always do what we expect it to do.