How Tia Lola Learned to Teach

by Julia Alvarez

  “I know she’s not technically my mother or the kids’ grandmother, but she really is to us.” Mami’s voice starts to quiver. “Please, Judge, sir, don’t tear my family apart.”

  Miguel hopes with all his might that his mami won’t cry. For one thing, that’ll get Juanita started; then Carmen, who cries at the drop of a hat; and soon, Tía Lola will be bawling. This tough judge might decide this country doesn’t need more crybabies.

  “Your aunt, or I should say your mother, certainly sounds like a very important member of your family,” the judge concedes to Mami. “And from the size of the crowd out there”—he nods toward the window—“she must also be a beloved member of your community.”

  “I can attest to that,” Colonel Charlebois says, coming forward, leaning on his cane. “This individual is one of the best things that has ever happened to our town. And I’ve been around for a long time. Even served with your father!”

  The judge glances up at the old man in a worn army uniform. For a moment he looks as if he is seeing a ghost from the past.

  “Your father was a true hero,” Colonel Charlebois adds, drawing himself up as straight as he’s ever going to get and giving the gray-haired man a firm salute.

  Slowly, the judge lifts one hand and salutes back.

  After a brief recess, Tía Lola is next. The judge begins by asking her what she thinks of all this praise.

  “They make me sound like a big hero, but I’m not,” Tía Lola explains in Spanish. Miguel shakes his head, contradicting his aunt. Tía Lola is supposed to be convincing the judge that she is extraordinary, not telling him she’s not! “But better than being an important person is being important to the people you love. Mejor ser cabeza de ratón que rabo de león.”

  The judge laughs when Víctor translates Tía Lola’s saying. “Better to be the head of a rat than the tail of a lion,” he murmurs to himself as he writes down the saying in his pad.

  One by one, the witnesses get up and attest to the worth of Tía Lola. Finally, when all the adults have had their say, the judge turns to Juanita and Miguel. “I guess the only two people I haven’t heard from in this room are you two. Will you come forward and introduce yourselves?”

  Juanita jumps right up and approaches the bench. “My name is Juana Inés Guzmán, but everyone—except Carmen—calls me Juanita,” she rattles off easily. Before the judge can even ask her a question, Juanita has launched into how Tía Lola is like her combination grandmother, favorite aunt, and best friend. If she is forced to leave the United States, Juanita wants permission to go with her.

  “Well, that would be a great loss to our country,” the judge says, looking genuinely concerned about losing Juanita to the Dominican Republic. “I hope you’re not going to abandon ship as well,” he says, craning his neck in order to look behind Juanita to where Miguel is still sitting. For some reason, Miguel has not been able to move. His legs might as well be two blocks of concrete. He feels almost as scared as he did when Rafi slammed him against the wall in the subway.

  “Come forward, young man,” the judge urges him again. “Nothing to be afraid of.”

  “He’s not afraid!” Tía Lola defends her nephew. “He just knows silence is precious. En boca cerrada no entran moscas.” No flies can enter a closed mouth.

  The judge roars with laughter. “You are a lively lady, all right!”

  “You should see her on Wednesday nights,” Rudy speaks up. He explains about the wonderful community dinners, the menu in Spanish, the dance lessons. “Amigos Café—come down and check it out.”

  “Sounds like this individual is pretty extraordinary! But I would like to hear from the young man. You know, our American boys and girls are our national treasure. And a word from them is worth any dozen testimonies from us old fogies.”

  Given that summons, how can Miguel not come forward? Suddenly, his legs are as light as if he were that Greek god Mercury, with wings on his ankles and on his cap. He walks to the platform and looks up at the gray-haired man with stern eyebrows but surprisingly kind eyes.

  “What have you got to say to add to this chorus of praise for Ms. Lola?”

  And so Miguel tells him. How heartbroken he was when his parents separated. How he feels very lucky because slowly his family is re-forming in new ways. “She’s actually going to be my stepmother,” Miguel says, pointing to Carmen, who bows her head to hide her grateful tears. Then, pointing to Mami, he adds, “My mami is great at her job, but sometimes she has to work real late. Tía Lola is the only family we have in Vermont to help take care of us.” Actually, Tía Lola has held all the broken pieces of their family together during tough times. But Miguel doesn’t want to get too mushy in front of this crowd.

  As Miguel speaks, the judge gazes intently at him, as if something in this boy reminds him of his younger self. “At first, I wasn’t sure about Tía Lola joining our family, because she was kind of different and I was afraid kids would make fun of us. But then Tía Lola came to our school and everybody fell in love with her.”

  “She’s the best thing that has happened to Bridgeport Elementary School,” Mrs. Stevens adds.

  “She’s like our barnacle,” Juanita says, getting her two new words confused. But it works: Tía Lola is like an oracle, but she’s also like a barnacle, attached to everyone, part of the flora and the fauna of their town.

  “And if you don’t believe me, you can ask all the kids out there,” Miguel concludes. “They’ll all tell you the same thing.”

  The judge lays down his pen. He takes a deep breath, as if he wants to bring up his verdict from deep inside him. “I don’t have it in me to break a whole community’s heart. Or yours,” he adds, nodding at Juanita and Miguel. “We’ll find a way for your tía Lola to stay,” he promises. “Meanwhile, I’m going to grant her an extension of three more months so her lawyers can get her residency papers in order.” He nods at Carmen and Víctor.

  From deep inside Miguel comes a shout of joy. Juanita’s cry follows. Soon their whole group is laughing and high-fiving and hugging each other. Tía Lola hurries to the window and waves her yellow scarf, a victory sign for the cheering crowd.

  “Order in the courtroom!” The judge is now standing at the podium, gavel in hand, as if he means to bang it on their heads to quiet them down. The room goes deathly still. “Before you take off,” he says, pausing for effect, “what was the name of that restaurant?”

  As they walk down the hall, Tía Lola slips her arm around Miguel. “I think your words made all the difference,” she whispers. “I saw that judge’s face change as you spoke. You probably reminded him of himself, and his heart was moved. Thank you, Miguel. You are my hero.”

  And you are mine, Miguel thinks, but that’s just too corny to say out loud in front of all these people. Instead, Miguel quotes another favorite saying of Tía Lola’s: “De tal palo, tal astilla.” The wood is where the splinter comes from. Like father, like son. Like grandmother, like grandson. In other words, if he’s a hero, he got it from his aunt!

  lesson ten

  Ser contento es gran talento

  Being happy is a great talent

  On the third Saturday in June, just before school lets out, Bridgeport Elementary will have its end-of-the-year picnic.

  Usually only staff, teachers, and students and their parents attend, but this year the whole town is invited. There is something special to celebrate: Tía Lola is on her way to becoming a permanent resident of the United States of America! She will be able to stay for as long as she wants.

  And something else to celebrate: the town has learned so much Spanish that half the time, instead of calling out “Hi!” people greet each other on the street with “¡Hola!”

  “¿Cómo estás?” they’ll ask, instead of “How are you?”

  “Muy, muy bien.” Everyone seems to be doing very, very well. “¡Qué buena noticia lo de Tía Lola!” And what good news about Tía Lola!

  “Did you hear that the judge is coming to the picnic?”<
br />
  “¿Es verdad?” Could it really be true?!

  “¡Sí, señor!” Yes, sir!

  Papi and Carmen are also coming, and they’re bringing Abuelito and Abuelita with them. Abuelita has sufficiently recovered from her winter quebrantos to make the trip. Whatever is left of her ailments will be cured by seeing both her grandchildren.

  Coming with them, curiously eager to get back to Vermont, will be Tía Lola’s lawyer, Víctor Espada. Víctor has been calling daily with news about the progress of Tía Lola’s application, news that isn’t really new, since he calls every night with the same information. Tía Lola talks briefly, and then she puts Mami on so Víctor can tell her the news as well. For the next hour, Víctor and Mami talk and talk. They also seem to laugh a whole lot.

  The only sad part of the happy ending of the school year is that Ofie and her sisters won’t be able to come to the picnic. Unlike Tía Lola, their parents didn’t come with visas, and now the whole family is being deported back to Mexico.

  Mrs. Stevens calls an assembly to make the announcement. “I’m sorry,” she says, as if it were her fault. “The girls are temporarily staying with a friend of the family while their parents’ deportation is being processed. We are in touch with them. They are all well, I promise.” Mrs. Stevens then reads a letter written by the girls in which they thank the school, the principal, the teachers and staff, the students, and most of all, Tía Lola. “They send many hugs and hearts and kisses,” Mrs. Stevens closes. She holds up the letter. Several big red hearts are visible at the bottom. “I’ll post the letter on the entrance bulletin board so you can all read it.”

  Before dismissing the assembly, Mrs. Stevens tries to raise the school’s flagging spirits by bringing up what they’re all now calling Tía Lola’s picnic. “It’d be wonderful if we came up with some surprise for Tía Lola. So be thinking about some ideas.”

  But in spite of the excitement about the picnic, a gloomy cloud hangs over the school for the rest of the day. Especially in Juanita’s classroom, where Ofie’s empty desk is a constant reminder. Once again, Juanita has trouble concentrating on her schoolwork. But it’s not because she’s daydreaming about some made-up story. This time it’s real life that is troubling and absorbing.

  “When I grow up,” Juanita announces that night at dinner, “I’m going to be a lawyer.”

  Mami is all smiles. “Just like Víctor, eh?”

  “Carmen, too,” Miguel reminds her.

  “But why do you want to be an abogada?” Tía Lola questions.

  “So I can help people like Ofie and her family stay here,” Juanita replies.

  “A genius for a son and an angel for a daughter.” Mami sighs. “How lucky can I get!”

  Tía Lola quickly makes her sign of the cross. “Just to be sure,” she explains when Mami looks over at her. After all, Mami is bragging about her children. “Más vale prevenir que lamentar.”

  “I guess it is better to be safe than sorry.” Mami checks her watch and begins clearing the plates.

  As he is helping dry the dishes, Miguel asks, “Mami, is it my imagination, or do people who speak Spanish really love sayings?”

  Mami looks thoughtful. “I think we just notice them more when they come in a new language. I mean, there are hundreds of good sayings in English. We use them all the time, automatically.” Mami pauses, and Miguel can tell she is trying to come up with some examples.

  Just then the phone rings. In a moment, Tía Lola is calling out, “Linda!”

  Mami dries her hands hurriedly. Then, recalling that she still hasn’t come up with some sayings in English, she apologizes. “I’m drawing a total blank. But you know what? I’ll ask Víctor. He’s really good at stuff like that.”

  In fact, Mami and Víctor come up with a whole list of sayings. Talking to him seems to loosen up Mami’s creative juices. After she hangs up, she even thinks up a dozen more on her own. Before saying good night to Miguel, Mami hands him several pages filled with proverbs and sayings.

  That’s why the next day, when Mrs. Stevens visits his classroom to collect proposals for Tía Lola’s surprise, Miguel raises his hand. The one thing Tía Lola really wants is to learn English. The three things Tía Lola really, really loves are making piñatas, teaching at Bridgeport, and using sayings. Miguel has put all these things together and come up with what his mami would call another one of his brilliant ideas.

  Hanging from the big sugar maple in the playground is Miguel’s brilliant idea for a surprise for Tía Lola: a piñata that is an exact replica of Bridgeport Elementary. When Tía Lola arrives at the picnic, she lets out a cry. Now she knows why she was forbidden to enter the art room for the last week or so.

  But she has her own amazing surprise, covered in a bedsheet. When she unveils it, everyone gasps. No way! It also is a schoolhouse piñata, although not exactly a replica of Bridgeport. This building is painted purple, and instead of BRIDGEPORT ELEMENTARY SCHOOL, the turquoise sign above the door reads LA ESCUELITA BRIDGEPORT. An extreme makeover of their little school, in color and in español!

  “Great minds think alike,” Mami and Víctor say at the same time. Then they both burst out laughing, and for a few minutes, it looks like they might not be able to stop.

  “Order in the picnic!” the judge declares, which just makes everyone else join in the laughter.

  Abuelito and Abuelita sit on folding chairs near the food table, which is crammed with dishes Abuelita brought up from New York City. It’s as if she feared starvation in Vermont. By the end of the afternoon, she might well assume that all Vermonters are starving: there won’t be a crumb left to scrape into a take-home container.

  Looking out at the gathering, Miguel can’t believe how happy he feels. Before him are most of the special people in his life. What’s more, the golden days of summer stretch ahead, with game after game of baseball in the field behind his house. And the best news of all is that Tía Lola will get to stay. Their family won’t be torn apart again.

  Juanita is also feeling lucky, especially when she thinks of Ofie. Someday, if she doesn’t become a lawyer, she wants to write a book about a little Mexican girl who comes to a farm in Vermont and gets to stay. Just thinking about that ending makes her heart flood with happiness.

  “Okay, it’s time,” Mrs. Stevens announces. “How shall we do this? Shall we begin with our piñata or Tía Lola’s?”

  It’s no use taking a vote. Some people call out, “Tía Lola’s!” including Tía Lola, and others shout, “Ours!”

  “Why don’t you decide?” Mrs. Stevens asks the judge. After all, he is the highest-ranking official at the gathering.

  “Oh, no!” Judge Reginald shakes his head. “I don’t want to decide a single thing today, except what I’m going to eat next.” He heads toward the food table, where Abuelita is already on her feet, ready to dish him out some more of her puerco asado. “This has got to be the best roast pork I’ve ever tasted,” the judge declares. “And I’m willing to swear on a stack of Bibles,” he tells Abuelita, who already believes him, given the proof of a third serving.

  “Okay,” Mrs. Stevens says, handing Tía Lola a broom. “You go first. After all, you are our guest of honor.” There’s no need to blindfold Tía Lola, as only she gets to swipe at the piñata the school made for her.

  My oh my! Who would have thought a woman Tía Lola’s age would be such a powerhouse? In a matter of three hits, the schoolhouse explodes.

  Raining down are dozens upon dozens of folded-up pieces of paper. “¿Qué será?” Tía Lola picks a few up, intrigued. “Fortunes?”

  Mrs. Stevens laughs. “No, no, Tía Lola. This was your nephew’s idea. He said there were three things you really love: Piñatas, so we made you one. Teaching at Bridgeport, so we made your piñata our schoolhouse. And sayings, so each student has chosen a saying in English for you, with a short explanation. That way, you can learn more English. You have all summer to study them.”

  You’d think Tía Lola had just gotten a tr
easure chest full of gold! She goes down on her knees, picking up all the scattered pieces of paper and putting them in one of the shopping bags she brought for the food containers. “Gracias, gracias, gracias,” she keeps saying as she drops each one in.

  Now it’s Tía Lola’s turn to present her piñata. First, she has some words she wants to say in English. “When I come to the United Estates, only I have three people in my familia here: my big niece, my little niece, my nephew. But now I have a big familia of friends. Thank you, all the students and teachers and Señora Stevens, for allowing me the oportunidad to learn how to teach at la escuelita Bridgeport.”

  Miguel and Juanita are amazed. Where did Tía Lola learn to make a whole speech in English? The mystery is solved when they catch Rudy giving Tía Lola the thumbs-up.

  Tía Lola’s purple schoolhouse piñata is hoisted up on the branch beside the shreds of her own surprise. To start things off, Mrs. Stevens is allowed one honorary whack. She misses by a yard and hits a branch so hard, a bird’s nest comes tumbling down on her head! Everyone tries to keep a straight face. But all it takes is one stray giggle, and the picnickers explode with laughter.

  The kindergarteners go next. But most of them are so small that they end up whacking the air. It’s only when the blindfolds are tied to the third graders that the whacking gets serious. Too bad, Miguel thinks. At this rate, the fifth (soon to be sixth) graders will never get a turn.