Bizarrely, I remember every pair of teachers I had in elementary school: Mrs. Kinney/Mrs. Cahill, Mr. McGuire/Mrs. Crowell, Ms. Mizell/Mrs. Jones, Mr. Shepherd/Mrs. C. and Mr. Post/Mrs. Crowell. Crazy right? I think Jake might have had that many teachers just in first grade. Of course I’m exaggerating… but it was pretty close.
He started off kindergarten on a high note— Maestra Patiño was a miracle worker. Thirty some odd kids and absolutely no help. The color chart was clearly more than just a nice little behavioral aid… it was do or die.
Then Jacob graduated to first grade and that’s where things got a little squirrely. It started off really well with Maestra Arroyo-Pérez. She was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and…
A long-term sub. Something happened and her masters program found out she was teaching full time and she was ripped from our loving grasp. We had an English-speaking substitute, which clearly negated the point of a Spanish-immersion program. We received vague and unsatisfactory letters about the “search around the world” to find a qualified teacher. There was hope that someone had been found— a Miss America. Miss America! The epitome of bright-eyed and bushy-tailed— likely winning the global pageant with her inspirational vision of teaching young Pokémon-obsessed youth the finer points of the subjunctive. Everyone waited in anticipation, especially the dads, hoping she’d live-up to her name.
But alas, Miss America never materialized…
Finally they pulled this poor lady out of retirement to get them through the year. Another long-term sub who started and then left on planned medical leave for six weeks. There was yet another sub, or maybe the principal filled-in? And then Maestra Gonzales came back.
She yelled a lot. The kids all said she was “mean.” She told me, conspiratorially, that she yells a lot because she thinks boys respect a loud voice. Her teaching style was, well, old school. The kids were pointed to and each would read a sentence aloud in succession. Public humiliation seemed to be a frequent classroom management tool.
At least she spoke Spanish?
Jake had it a bit rough. He was seated closest to her desk— I’m sure he earned it. In the end, I do think he won her over. This summer, we were leaving an Earthquakes game and amidst the huge crowd, Maestra Gonzales spotted Jacobo in his Trace standard-issue navy hooded sweatshirt. The look on her face was pure joy to see him.
This school year, second grade and kindergarten are off to a much smoother start. We’re feeling pretty confident that our new school’s talent pool is significantly deeper. Nate has Maestra Irion (pronounced Iron) for Spanish and Maestro Browning for English. And Jake has Maestro Guardado for English and a different teacher for Spanish.
Two days in and there was some kind of teacher mix-up happening for Jake. Fortunately, he’s been well-trained in experiencing a multitude of teachers. He came home from school and of course I pummeled him with questions about his first day.
“So, Maestro Guardado is your English teacher— who’s your Spanish teacher?”
“I don’t know her name.”
“Is it Piscatella? Mrs. Piscatella?”
“No, that’s not it.”
“Are you sure? I think that’s what Mr. Guardado said.”
He’s shaking his head perplexed, but still in the negative.
And then it dawns on me… Piscatella is the name of the dictatorial prison guard on Orange is the New Black. Woops.
But really, after all that… can you blame me?