Bergsjön, Gothenburg
I learned to read Swedish together with my son
Homework became Yusuf’s own schooling. Six years on they still read together at the kitchen table.
When we arrived Amir was seven. I could read Arabic well, but the Swedish letters sat wrong in my mouth. I was ashamed to ask.
”He thought I was helping him. It was really the other way around.”
So we did the homework together. He read aloud, I copied him. If he got something wrong I had no way of knowing, but we kept reading.
Today he is studying to be an engineer. I read novels in Swedish, slowly, with my finger under the line. It does not matter. Nobody is racing me.