One morning, during the fall of 1938, while I was entering the classroom, I found Ada sitting next to me, ready to greet me with a smile. I smiled back and I took place next to her. While we were preparing for the art period, someone knocked at the door; on the threshold appeared the janitor. The woman said: “Alba Finzi is requested immediately in the principal’s office”. Our classmates turned their gaze to me; I was worried. I got up to follow her. My hands were sweating and my legs were trembling. I had no idea what to expect, but from the look of the principal, I knew it was something bad: “Sit down Alba. I must inform you that you have to collect your books and notebooks and leave school immediately.”
“Right now?” I asked.
“Yes, immediately. You are a Jewish. The order has arrived for mixed Jews.”
“Does that also apply to tomorrow as well?”
“Yes, forever. You are Jewish. You are banished from all the schools of the Kingdom. Forever.” I was stunned by his order. I slowly came back to my classroom. I felt the teacher’s look on me; I picked up my things with trembling hands and turned to Ada who whispered in my ear, mumbling, words that at the moment had no meaning to me. My face turned red because of the shame, and I left the classroom holding my purse tightly to my chest. After a few days I finally understood that Ada had made me a promise: “I’ll wait for you” she whispered that morning. Later I found out that she stood up to keep my little desk empty for the rest of the school year.
From the testimony of Alba Finzi, 2004
