Remember your Why

photograph by Deborah Martel Rogers, Harris' TOSA, BCSD

May, 2022

    I still remember my first year as a full-time teacher. I did not have my own car yet and walked to the bus stop early in the morning while carrying my red briefcase, which I so proudly had saved for with the money I had made during my weekly tutoring sessions all over the city. The city where I worked and lived back then, Las Palmas de Gran Canaria, is actually on an island, and that made me see the ocean from wherever I looked.

     That first day was somewhat magical. I even had the impression that everyone was looking at my shiny red laced shoes while thinking to themselves that I was obviously a teacher. When I got to the bus line, several ladies asked me to please go ahead of them, since they were not in a hurry, and I was obviously busy. I proceeded to thank them right before paying for my ticket and sitting all the way to the back. 

     Some young men stared at me. I ignored them. Some young ladies looked back towards where I was with a mixture of curiosity and lack of understanding. I knew what I was doing. Since a very young age, when I took the bus daily in order to attend my daily martial arts class, the routine was very clear: The ladies sat in the front of the bus, close to the bus driver, couples right in the middle, and younger people right after, with the exception of the young men, who would go all the way to the back. They would talk very loudly, making fun of the other passengers and the driver -who did not dare to confront them, unless they chose to stand up and come to the front.  

     My neighbors continued to try to make me feel uncomfortable until I chose to put my feet up, on the empty armrest right in front of me, next to a bare seat, and take out the thickest book I had in my briefcase. As soon as they saw that I did not belong to their league, they continued to talk to each other, as if I did not exist, although my peripheral vision let me know that they were very curious about who this crazy woman in red shoes was. 

     When I got to the high school where I was destined that first year, I noticed how the whole back row got out of the bus with me. I could not stop but smile while thinking about the endless possibilities such a coincidence might bring. As I had imagined, my whole back row followed me inside the high school building, although this time they were very quiet when I walked in the principal's' office, in order to introduce myself. 

     A few hours and several hundred students later, I had the pleasure of having met my back row bus neighbors in each of my classrooms, always sitting in the back of the classroom. This time, though, I was sitting in the front. They continued to talk and started to make fun of their female classmates. It was then when I opened up my red briefcase, very slowly, took out an apple (red, of course), sat on my teacher's table, crossed my legs, and started to eat my red apple while staring at them. 

     The whole classroom went silent, unaware of the drama that was about to unfold. I ate my apple, one bite at a time, in a very parsimonious way, and then announced that I was very glad that I was about to get to the core of the matter. They looked at each other and smiled, with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. 

      I really think my first-day students were ready to leave and enjoy their work-free day when I wrote on the board an itemized list of pages they were supposed to have studied with me that day. Definitely, they did not appreciate that gesture right then.

      The following day, my advisory group was quiet, but not friendly. They, I could tell, did not like my presence in their classroom. I did not dress like them, nor behaved like them. That all started to change, though, when I opened up my briefcase and started to hand them each a red apple with an attached message that read: "Me atrevo a leer en público." "I dare to read on the bus." 

      From then on, I would see my students reading and writing on the bus and sitting in different rows all over the bus.  They had started to develop a thirst for knowledge that made me very proud of them. 

      At the end of the school year, I broke the news that I had requested a transfer to another campus. It was closer to my apartment, which would allow me to walk to and from work every day. They did not talk to me out of class for a couple of days, but -after they gathered the strength to wish me good luck in my future endeavor- they gave me a gift: a red apple with the following message attached to it: "Me atrevo a sentarme en la primera fila." " I dare to sit in the front seat." I ate my gift in front of them. We all laughed and cried together and wished each other our best. 

    I am now, some years and hundreds of miles later,  an aspiring administrator in beautiful California, continental USA, who was recently honored and privileged to receive the CALSA Aspiring Administrator Award for the State of California and for Area 3. Where this new journey will take me, time will say. If there is one thing I am sure about is that it is all worthy. I choose to take my Why everywhere I go.  Equity is not what I do. Equity is who I am.