My first day of class was scheduled from 10 until noon. As I left home, I asked someone the time. It was 9 :05 a.m., which allowed me time to relax and look around the campus before my lecture. After what I judged to be half an hour, I glanced at a clock I was passing, It said 10:20! In panic, I broke for the classroom, followed by gentle greetings from unhurried students, many of whom, I later realized,were my own. I arrived breathless to find an empty room.

Frantically, I asked a passerby the time, " Nine forty-five" was the answer. No, that couldn't be. I asked someone else. “Nine fifty-five." Another said: " Exactly 9:43." The clock in a nearby office read 3:15. I had learned my first class about Brazilians: their timepieces are consistently inaccurate. And nobody minds.

Many students came late, some very late. Several arrived after 10:30. A few showed up closer to 11. Two came after that. All of the latecomers wore relaxed smiles... Each one said hello, and although a few apologized briefly, none seemed terribly concerned about lateness. They assumed that I understood.

Back home in California, I never need to look at a clock to know when the class hour is ending. The shuffling of books is accompanied by strained expressions that say plaintively, " I'm starving... l've got to go to the bathroom...l'm going to suffocate if you keep us one more second. " When noon arrived in my first Brazilian class, only a few students left immediately. Others slowly drifted out during the next 15minutes.. When several remaining students kicked off their shoes at 12: 30, I went into my own starving/ bathroom/ suffocation" routine. Apparently for many of my students , staying late was simply of no more importance than arriving late in the first place.