How Tia Lola Learned to Teach

by Julia Alvarez

  THIS IS A BORZOI BOOK PUBLISHED BY ALFRED A. KNOPF

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2010 by Julia Alvarez

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Alfred A. Knopf, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

  Knopf, Borzoi Books, and the colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

  Visit us on the Web! www.randomhouse.com/kids

  Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at www.randomhouse.com/teachers

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Alvarez, Julia.

  How Tia Lola learned to teach / by Julia Alvarez.—1st ed.

  p. cm.

  Summary: Juanita and Miguel’s great-aunt, Tía Lola, comes from the Dominican Republic to help take care of them after their parents divorce, and soon she is so involved in their small Vermont community that when her visa expires, the whole town turns out to support her.

  eISBN: 978-0-375-89584-5

  [1. Great-aunts—Fiction. 2. Dominican Americans—Fiction. 3. Family life—Vermont—Fiction. 4. Community life—Vermont—Fiction. 5. Schools—Fiction. 6. Divorce—Fiction. 7. Vermont—Fiction.] I. Title.

  PZ7.A48How 2010

  [Fic]—dc22

  2010004964

  Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.

  v3.1

  for

  Tía Rosa,

  beloved aunt, second mother,

  alive in our hearts forever

  1928–2008

  contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  BEFORE WE BEGIN

  Coser y cantar, todo es empezar

  Sewing and singing, beginning is everything

  Lesson One

  Buenas razones cautivan los corazones

  Good intentions win hearts

  Lesson Two

  En el país de los ciegos, el tuerto es rey

  In the land of the blind, the one–eyed man is king

  Lesson Three

  Camarón que se duerme se lo lleva la corriente

  The sleeping shrimp is carried away by the current

  Lesson Four

  Con paciencia y con calma, se subió un burro en una palma

  With patience and calm, even a donkey can climb a palm

  Lesson Five

  Los tropezones hacen levantar los pies

  Stumbling makes you pick up your feet

  Lesson Six

  En todas partes cuecen habas

  Everywhere, people cook beans

  Lesson Seven

  Quien tiene boca llega a Roma

  If you have a mouth, you can get to Rome

  Lesson Eight

  Nunca es tarde cuando la dicha es buena

  It’s never too late when you’re in luck (or something like that)

  Lesson Nine

  En la unión está la fuerza

  In unity there’s strength

  Lesson Ten

  Ser contento es gran talento

  Being happy is a great talent

  About Tía Lola’s Spanish

  Acknowledgments

  before we begin

  Coser y cantar, todo es empezar

  Sewing and singing, beginning is everything

  In the middle of winter in Vermont, Tía Lola feels lonely out in the country all by herself all day long.

  In the early morning, she is happy, waking up Miguel and Juanita, getting them ready for school. She races down the driveway to the waiting bus and waves goodbye to them, and later to their mother as she leaves for work.

  “¡Adiós! ¡Adiós! ¡Adiós!” Tía Lola calls out. Her breath fades in the cold air. The snowy fields stretch all around her. She closes the door to the big, cold, empty house.

  Suddenly, she can hear her heart beating, the refrigerator humming, the radiator clanking, a little bird pecking seeds from the feeder hanging out the window. She turns on the television for company. But Tía Lola doesn’t know much English, so she can’t understand what all those little people inside the box are saying.

  When the phone rings at noon, Tía Lola snatches it up after one ring. Mami is calling to check on how Tía Lola is doing.

  “¡Bien! ¡Bien!” Tía Lola says, pumping up her voice as if it were a flat tire. She is just fine. She does not want Mami to worry. Or for Miguel and Juanita to think their aunt from the Dominican Republic isn’t happy to be staying on in Vermont to take care of them.

  But Tía Lola needs something to do.

  That is why when the phone rings one cold January night with a surprising request from the school principal, Tía Lola says, “¡Sí, sí, sí!” before she even knows what exactly she is agreeing to do.

  “She says yes,” Mami translates. “She’d love to come to school every day with Juanita and Miguel.”

  “She’s going to do what?!” Miguel can’t believe his mami would accept Mrs. Stevens’s request without first checking with him and his little sister, Juanita. Now he will be the laughingstock of Bridgeport Elementary. This time it won’t be because his last name, Guzmán, sounds like “Gooseman,” or because he looks different from everyone in his class. It’ll be because he has brought his own personal, wacky, babysitting aunt who doesn’t speak English to school. “But what’s Tía Lola going to do there all day?”

  “Coser y cantar, todo es empezar.” Tía Lola chants one of her sayings: Sewing and singing, beginning is everything. No matter what you do, you just have to jump right in! “I’ll go every day and clean the rooms or cook or paint the building a nice bright color,” she offers in Spanish.

  Mami shakes her head at each of these suggestions. “No, no, no, Tía Lola. What Señora Stevens wants you to do is teach the children some Spanish.”

  Tía Lola’s mouth drops open, but no words, Spanish or English, come out of it.

  “It turns out there are several new Spanish speakers at Bridgeport,” Mami goes on explaining, “besides you two.” She nods at Juanita and Miguel. “Mrs. Stevens said they’re from Mexico.”

  “One of them’s in my class,” Juanita speaks up. “Her name’s Ofelia, but everyone calls her Ofie.” Actually, Ofie is in second grade and Juanita is in third, but this year at Bridgeport, second and third graders, as well as fourth and fifth graders, have combined classes. Something to do with how few kids are enrolled in these classes and how much money the principal has to hire new teachers.

  “It’s such a great opportunity for all the children to learn some Spanish,” Mami is saying. “But la señora Stevens doesn’t have funding to hire a teacher. That’s why she hopes you’ll volunteer, Tía Lola. Just go and teach the kids some words, and dances, and songs, and tell a few stories.…” Mami is trying hard to make it sound easy and fun. But the panic on Tía Lola’s face makes even Miguel want to persuade her not to worry.

  “¿Qué pasa, Tía Lola?” Juanita cocks her head as if from a different angle she’ll be able to tell what’s wrong with her aunt. Tía Lola has been saying she wants something to do during the long days in the United States of America. So why isn’t she happy about this wonderful news?

  “I can’t be a teacher.” Tía Lola looks the most alarmed any of them have ever seen her.

  “¿Por qué?” “Why not?” “Por qué not?” They all ask her at the same time, Mami in Spanish, Miguel in English, Juanita in Spanglish.


  “Porque …” Because … Tía Lola bows her head and cannot continue.

  “Remember what you yourself said, Tía Lola,” Mami says gently. “Sewing and singing, and even teaching—”

  “Todo es empezar,” Tía Lola mutters, like she doesn’t believe it anymore.

  “The only way to learn is by starting,” Mami adds, throwing another log in the fire. “Look at us. A year ago, when we moved here, who would’ve thought this drafty old farmhouse would become our warm, cozy home? A few weeks later, when you came to visit, Tía Lola, none of us ever thought you’d stay on to live with us. All these changes began without any of us knowing anything about how to make the next move. And here we are!” Mami smiles enthusiastically.

  The fire crackles happily. Outside, a soft snow is falling. Soon the world will be as blank and white as a clean sheet of paper right before you begin to write.

  lesson one

  Buenas razones cautivan los corazones

  Good intentions win hearts

  “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.

  But Tía Lola is not grinning back. Instead, she looks long and hard at Miguel, then at Juanita, finally at Mami. Is this a trick? her eyes are asking. Finally, she slips off her apron and smooths back her hair. “Buenas razones cautivan los corazones.”

  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.

  “Hoy solamente, solamente hoy,” Jua
nita practices, showing off her perfect pronunciation. Miguel groans. Here’s one person who doesn’t need more confidence.

  “I’ll be right down. Let me quickly get dressed and touch up my face.” Tía Lola hurries upstairs.

  Miguel knows what his aunt is about to do. Her beauty mark is about to migrate to a different part of her face. Her outfit will be just as colorful as before, but it will be a dress instead of a robe. Her favorite yellow scarf will be tied around her neck. Inside her flowered carpetbag purse, she’ll be carrying a bottle of lucky water to sprinkle in the classroom. Just as long as she doesn’t walk down the halls, burning candles and herbs to chase away bad spirits.

  Miguel sighs. It is going to be a very long day at Bridgeport Elementary.

  “Was it okay to lie to Tía Lola?” Juanita worries out loud. Mami has just called Mrs. Stevens to let her know that Tía Lola will be coming to school today.

  Miguel groans. His little sister would have to spoil their triumph by wondering if it was okay.

  But Mami waves Juanita’s worries away. “It’s a little white lie, that’s all.”

  Mami has explained how sometimes you have to tell a harmless untruth to spare someone’s feelings. How it’s okay to say that Mami is not home even though she is upstairs finishing a report due tomorrow and is not to be disturbed. Also, if Papi asks Miguel how he is doing, it’s okay to say “just fine” when really Miguel feels sad that after months of separation, his parents are now divorced. He was hoping that they would change their minds and get back together again.

  “You see, we’re actually helping Tía Lola. She really needs to get out of the house.”

  “Can’t she get a job?” Miguel suggests. Isn’t that what grown-ups are supposed to do?

  “Tía Lola does have a job here, helping take care of you,” Mami reminds him. In Vermont, there aren’t tons of after-school programs like back in the city, or relatives like their abuelitos in Brooklyn, ready to drop everything to come take care of their grandchildren.

  “I think we did the right thing.” Mami glances up at the kitchen clock. “You better hurry and call Tía Lola to come down. After all, you don’t want to miss the bus on her first visit to Bridgeport.”