How Tia Lola Learned to Teach

“Mami, why is Tía Lola so scared to be a teacher?” Juanita wants to know. Mami is tucking her into bed. Juanita has been pleading for five more minutes so she can read another chapter in her book. But Mami has ruled that Monday through Thursday, lights must be out promptly by eight p.m. Otherwise, Juanita is too tired to pay attention the next day in class.
Mami sighs. “I think Tía Lola doesn’t feel confident because she never went past fourth grade.” “I haven’t gone past fourth grade either,” Juanita reminds
her.
“I know, Juanita.” Mami smiles fondly at her daughter. “But you’re only eight. And Tía Lola, well, she’s past fifty. She thinks she’s not smart enough to teach the kids at your school.”
“But that’s ridiculous, Mami!” Juanita says importantly. It feels so grown-up to be able to pronounce something ridiculous. “Tía Lola knows so much. All these stories and songs and sayings. And she knows how to cook and make friends and …” Juanita runs out of breath before she has run out of things Tía Lola knows how to do.
“Would you do me a favor, Nita bonita?” Her mami always calls Juanita by her nickname and then adds the Spanish word for “pretty” when she is asking for something that will take extra effort. “Could you tell your tía Lola what you just told me? Tell her you’d love for her to come to your school. That it’ll be just like taking care of you and Miguel, except that you’ll have a few friends along….”
“Like seventy-four-sorry, seventy-six, counting Nita and me.” Miguel is at the door. He must have overheard Mami discussing Mrs. Stevens’s invitation.
Mami looks at Miguel in that careful way, trying to figure out what he is feeling. She works at the college, counseling students who feel confused or troubled. Except Miguel isn’t confused or troubled. He just thinks that adults should go to work somewhere besides where their kids go to school.
“Do you not want Tía Lola to volunteer at Bridgeport?” Mami asks carefully.
Miguel squirms. He’s not sure he wants Tía Lola at his
school every single day. But his mother is looking
disappointed. “How about if Tía Lola just comes sometimes?”
Miguel suggests. “You know, Miguel Ángel Guzmán, you might just have hit on a brilliant idea!”
Miguel blinks in disbelief. “I have?”
“He has?” Juanita echoes.
Mami nods, ignoring the sparks flying between brother and sister. “I think it’ll be less scary for Tía Lola to start by volunteering once a week, say. She can think of it as just visiting, not teaching. Then, once she gets used to it, she can go more often.”
Like in a year and a half, when I’ll already be at the middle school, Miguel thinks. But he knows better than to say so. He doesn’t want to upset Mami, who can still be super sensitive. A year ago, at Christmas, his parents separated. His father, Papi, stayed behind in New York City, but Mami moved to Vermont with a job at the college, bringing Miguel and Juanita with her. That’s why their aunt came from the Dominican Republic to help take care of them. Miguel has to admit that ever since Tía Lola arrived, Mami is a lot happier. It’s Tía Lola who seems sadder.
“Can she start tomorrow?” Juanita pipes up, her eyes bright and hopeful.
“I don’t see why not. But I’ll need you guys to help me convince her, okay?”
Juanita nods eagerly. Miguel nods as well. After all, it was his brilliant idea…
Juanita gets up early the next morning. She doesn’t even bother to gaze out her window at the back pasture covered with fresh snow. Instead, she hurries downstairs, hoping to talk Tía Lola into coming to school today.
In the kitchen she finds her aunt frying up some plantains and bacon. “Buenos días,” Tía Lola sings out cheerfully. “What are you doing up this early?”
“Oh… I just… I wanted to …” For some reason, Juanita finds it hard to explain. Partly, it’s having to talk in Spanish. Only when Miguel is around does Juanita’s Spanish seem to really improve.
Tía Lola winks at her niece. “No por mucho madrugar
amanece más temprano.
This is one of Tía Lola’s favorite sayings. Something about how waking up early won’t make the sun rise any faster. Tía Lola always quotes this saying when anyone is being too eager a beaver.
“As soon as I’m done with this, I’ll help you get ready,” Tía Lola offers, turning back to her cooking. Usually, she braids Juanita’s hair or finds a missing sock or irons a favorite outfit her niece wants to wear.
It’s now or never, Juanita thinks, taking a deep breath. “Tía Lola, aren’t you going to get ready?” Her aunt is dressed in a colorful robe with parrots and bright flowers and a rainbow draped over her right shoulder. She looks like she does every morning, not like someone who is going to be the volunteer Spanish teacher at school today.
“¿Preparada para qué?” Tía Lola asks. Ready for what?
“To go to school with us today.”
Tía Lola is shaking her head before Juanita is even done talking. “Tal vez maybe another day.”
“She won’t come with us,” Juanita says to Miguel, who has just stepped into the room. “Maybe if you ask her?”
Miguel wasn’t planning on carrying out his brilliant idea just yet. But having his little sister admit that he can do something she can’t makes him want to try.
“Tía Lola, do you know what day it is today?”
Tía Lola scrunches up her face. So does Juanita. Mami has just walked in from brushing the snow off her car. “Today? What’s today?”
“Today is …” Miguel has to think fast. He flashes an SOS look at Juanita. Help me out!
“Today is a very special, extraordinary, surprising day.”
Juanita can’t think of any more adjectives to say about today.
She is only in third grade. “Today …,” Miguel picks up, but he, too, draws a blank. Seven in the morning is not his best time of day to be creative either.
But it is Mami’s. “Oh, that’s right! Now I remember. Today is Bring a Special Person or Object to School Day. Um, right?” Mami looks over at Miguel and Juanita, who are trying desperately not to giggle.
“And Juanita and I picked you to be that special object-I mean, person.” Miguel grins. He hopes Tía Lola understands he was just joking. Juanita isn’t sure what Tía Lola has just said. But if they start translating and explaining, Tía Lola will never be on time for the bus. “So are you going to come with us, Tía Lola?”
“¿Hoy sólo?” Miguel adds. Just for today?
“Solamente hoy,” Tía Lola corrects him. “You can also say hoy solamente.”
She’ll do fine teaching Spanish at Bridgeport, Miguel is thinking. All Tía Lola needs is some confidence.