Planes, Trains, and Adult Men
My first day of high school my sister told me that I was literally green walking into the school. That’s how nervous I was. My first day at Profesor Raúl Vázquez was shockingly similar. The students had all already been in classes for over a month, and because we’re close in age, they mistook me for a new student. Several of them approached me before classes started and tried to speak Spanish with me, but backed off quickly when I told them I didn’t know what they’re saying. Most of them just stared and whispered back and forth to each other. Classes began and I did my best to confidently stand in front of thirty men and present about myself - thankfully, the video of me flipping a raft went over well. Then, the school catches on fire, and I’m sent home.
Week two is when my office hours begin. Students and teachers can come see me for private English practice. The first day no one shows, and I spend the majority of the day watching TikTok. The next day one girl comes. There’s about ten men to every one woman at this school. Our conversation is awkward and forced. But the next day she comes back, with three guys trailing behind her. The following day, there’s ten. Then twelve. And so on, until I need to ask for more desks in the room.
The school helicopter :)
I’m not sure when the awkwardness broke down, but within a few weeks, I’m mediating fights about Kanye West, sex education, and smoking. They teach me Spanish, and make fun of me for my Spotify Wrapped. One day we spent an hour arguing about whether or not they would rather fight a mermaid or a polar bear (it was contingent on if the fight was in or out of the water). What I had once interpreted as leering was simply curiosity. My private hours quickly shifted from the worst part of the day to my favorite hour. I can feel myself connecting with them, especially when they start opening up about their lives at home. One student tells me about his dads illness, and how difficult it is to go back and forth to an assisted living home. I struggle to find the words to tell him that I know exactly how he feels. Another describes his struggle with anxiety and mental health, leading to a conversation about the lack of available resources in Spain. The majority of the time we play games and trash talk each other, but in these pockets of vulnerability, I feel so incredibly fortunate to find myself at this school with these students.
Of course I’ve had messier moments here. The time an eighteen year old boy called me a bitch, or an entire Family Feud Team cussed me out in Spanish. When politics come up, I often have to stop myself from jumping across the desk and strangling them. I’m still too scared to go into the cafeteria and get coffee - too many judgy eyes staring me down. I often wonder how much the language barrier is protecting me from the more cruel students. There have been several instances that they start speaking Spanish and the head teacher will start yelling at them for disrespecting me.
But overall I've completely fallen in love with this school. Not only because the majority of the students have been unequivocally open and kind to me, but because I can feel them forcing me to grow. Profesor Raúl Vázquez could not be more different from my circles back home. The liberal bubbles of Ann Arbor and Boulder were filled with like minded people, men and women that it was easy to find common ground with. However, here, I’m forced to connect with men that have grown up not only on the other side of the world from me, but men that are from drastically different economic, political, and cultural backgrounds. While a good portion of the time I completely disagree with their thoughts and opinions, they act in a way that I can't help but respect.
One of our students found out about a family death while in class, and abruptly left, upset. The teacher ignored the situation, while two of the other boys jumped up and chased after him.. This is only one instance of the vulnerability I’ve witnessed among these students. We’ve talked extensively about relatives passing away, as this year seems to be a season of loss for many of us. My students have never failed to meet another person's confessions of struggle with anything other than kindness.
Working at Profesor Raúl Vázquez has made the world feel infinitely smaller. When I was packing to leave Virginia, everyone around me painted a picture of a big bad trade school, filled with men that would be waiting to take advantage of me. But I’ve been met with more emotional maturity and empathy than I’ve witnessed from many of my own peers in the States. Every Monday, when my students overflow with their stories of rap battles they’ve attended, or family drama they had to endure, I’m reminded of what an incredibly universal experience it is to be human.