“If Oscar doesn’t stop acting stupid now, stupidity is going to become a reality for him in a few years.”

“So tell him.”

“I have, repeatedly. It doesn’t do any good, because he wants to be stupid.”

Teixeira slammed his chair back as he got up. “That is the most preposterous thing I have ever heard. I think I know what will cure Oscar. I’ll pull him out of this ridiculous little school and transfer him to some place that can handle him.”

“John.”

“What!”

“If a witness on the stand were to suddenly start to sweat and become defensive, what would you think?”

John Teixeira paused with his hand on the door. He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. Neil could see the point go home. He looked back at Neil, puzzled by his own over-reaction.

“John,” Neil continued in a mild voice, “Oscar isn’t just playing dumb. He’s playing dumb Mexican.”

Teixeira’s voice was ominous as he said, “Exactly what does that mean?”

“I’ve worked with Oscar for eight months now, but I’ve only met you a few times. I can’t say I know you well, but this is the impression I get. You are Chicano. Your skin says it, your name says it, the shape of your face says it — but absolutely nothing else about you says it. You dress white, talk white, shake hands white, live white, walk white. You probably pee white, if you’ve been able to find any difference. In everything you say and do, you are telling your son that to be successful, to be intelligent, he has to be Anglo. He can’t be both Chicano and bright. I think you have forced him to make a choice between those two, when no choice was necessary. And I think he has chosen to be Chicano.

“John, I don’t think I can help him. I don’t think anyone can but you. You have to teach him he can be both Chicano and bright, both Chicano and successful. And you can’t just tell him. I think you are going to have to stop being afraid to be a Chicano yourself, before you can reach out to your son.”

Teixeira slammed the door behind him on the way out.

Neil sat back, discouraged and angry with himself. He should have sugar coated his words so that Teixeira would listen to them. By throwing them out like an accusation, he had probably destroyed any chance of helping Oscar.

# # #

Neil continued to watch Oscar’s lack of progress, and to search for a solution that did not require a change of heart on John Teixeira’s part. Then, a week later, Oscar came to Neil and said, “What are we going to do for Cinco de Mayo this year?”

“I don’t know. I never thought about it. Do you normally do something to celebrate it?”

“Of course!”

“What?”

Oscar described some of the things that had been done in previous years. It was all Neil could do to keep the triumph out of his face, but he managed to look disinterested as he said, “That sounds pretty lame.”

“Lame! Cinco de Mayo is as important to us Chicano’s as the Fourth of July is to you Anglos.”

“Tell me why.”

Oscar tried to explain, but he was intelligent enough to realize that his arguments were based on emotion and empty of fact. When he had ground to a halt, Neil smiled and reached out to squeeze his shoulder. “Oscar, I said the celebrations you used to do sounded lame. I did not make fun of Cinco de Mayo itself. I just think it needs to be presented better. Now, here is what I want you to do . . .” more tomorrow

His morning class was a constant struggle between Sean and Duarte, but their pulls on one another, however much they might disturb the harmony of the class, were counterbalanced by the steady driving purpose of Stephanie Hagstrom. She was the center around the which the whole class moved. She was unaware of this herself, but without her half of the music would have gone out of the class.

Oscar Teixeira was the center of the afternoon class, but he was a melody still looking for a key. Neil had watched Oscar for eight months now, and he knew that the boy was not trying to be difficult. Deliberately failing the CAT test had been out of character; it had been a message of desperation sent to his father.

From time to time, Neil talked with John Teixeira. It was not that he wanted to. He hated every minute he spent with that most irritating man, but as the year progressed Neil became more and more convinced that John Teixeira was the real problem in Oscar’s life.

# # #

Neil had a meeting with John Teixeira during the second week of April. Teixeira explained that he had come directly from the courthouse without taking time to go home. He gave the impression of a man on the move. Neil was sure that John Teixeira was exactly that; he was equally sure that John Teixeira wanted everyone to know that he was.

Teixeira was able and intelligent, but he was using his abilities to cloud the issue. Neil decided to attack the problem from that angle. He said, “John, the last time we talked, I went away feeling like I had been led around by the nose. I don’t think you meant to do that, but you strike me as a man who only tells what he wants to tell. You also strike me as someone who can hide the fact.”

“You aren’t a psychologist. I don’t know why I should tell you anything about my private life.”

“Fair enough. I am not a psychologist and I would be the last person to pose as one. I can’t make an instant diagnosis and ‘cure’ the boy like I was some kind of faith healer. But I have been teaching for five years. I have dealt with hundreds of students, and I might see something that would be useful.”

“I don’t know why we have to talk about Oscar’s home life at all. He has a great home life. His problems are at school.”  Teixeira’s face was closed. His mind was padlocked shut. His eyes were video cameras scanning the premises for intruders.

Neil had to get through that barrier before he could accomplish anything useful. He said, “Oscar is the only student who is faking stupid. He has a unique problem, so the cause must be unique to him. From what I’ve seen, the thing that sets Oscar Teixeira apart from the other students is that he is John Teixeira’s son.”

“That’s absolute nonsense. The thing that sets Oscar apart is that he is smarter than any of the rest of them.”

“He is intelligent; he’s probably the smartest child here. But he isn’t that much smarter than Stephanie Hagstrom or Tanya Michelson, and in two years time, Tasmeen and Rabindranath Kumar are going to run right past him. If he doesn’t stop acting stupid now, stupidity is going to become a reality for him in a few years.”

“So tell him.” more tomorrow

“Jealous?”

“Please, Neil. Don’t tease me. I’ve never been in love before and this is all very serious to me. I’ve been lying here for the last half hour with a knot in my stomach, ever since you told me about Fiona.”

He brushed his hand across her cheek and cupped it behind her neck. Her dark, loose hair engulfed his face as he drew her down for a kiss. “Carmen,” he said, “I am completely serious when I say that I love you. You have no reason to be jealous of Fiona or any other person. If I tease you, it is only because I have such confidence in us that I think the teasing will not hurt. If it hurts, I will stop right now.”

She slid her fingernails across his ribs. His skin jumped, and she smiled as she slid her hand behind him and drew him closer. “No,” she said, “I don’t want you to go all serious on me. Just tell me about you and Fiona so I don’t have to worry.”

“Fiona had me over for a bite.”

“You rat!” She punched his shoulder; but she also smiled.

“That’s better.” Neil told her the whole short story of his only “date” with Fiona.

“There was a spark. I’d be the last to deny it. But it was only a physical thing brought on because I was lonely and she was —  is — a good looking woman. Nothing came of it, and I am glad. And not just because you were waiting to sweep me off my feet. Even if you hadn’t been there, Fiona and I would have been a disaster together. We would have fought every day until we finally hated each other. I think we both knew that from the start.”

Carmen nestled close to him and said, “Good. Fiona is an old friend. I’m glad I won’t have to scratch her eyes out.”

# # #

Nothing in school happens by itself, nor does any part of the story of a class proceed in a straight line. Any class is a mixture of children of various abilities and various needs. There are the few favored ones whose parents balance praise and responsibility; who demand excellence without overpowering their children. They become the achievers. They move smoothly through their days and years, with praise and rewards. They leave school with good feelings toward education, and go on to become doctors or lawyers — or teachers.

Then there is the other minority, whose parents are abusive or irrational because of drugs or alcohol, or for no apparent reason. Or who simply do not care. Those children drop out early. By the sixth grade, they are gone. Their bodies remain in class — the law requires that much — but in essence, they are gone. When they finally drop out of high school, it will be a relief to them and to their teachers.

Most of the children are somewhere in between those extremes. Some of them lack courage. Some of them are brash.  Many of them are desperate for love. Some of them are surfeit, unchallenged, and listless from too much unearned praise.

All of them together are like the instruments in an orchestra, or like the parts of a symphony. A symphony in a minor key. Soft and slow, or bold and brassy by turns; rising to brief crescendos and dropping back to pianissimo weeks of calm. Dissonance resolving into consonance, flaring up again, resolving again —  all under the conductor’s watchful eye.

Sometimes Neil thought of them that way. more Monday

Fiona looked pained. “They have gotten off your back. What more do you want? Are you going to hide behind that scandal all you life?”

Their eyes locked. “I”m not hiding behind a damned thing, Fiona Kelly! I’m trying to be fair to these parents and to myself, and no one is a better judge of how to do that than I am!”

After a minute, they both grinned. It was a good thing that their one-kiss romance had come to nothing. Life with Fiona would have been fiery.

“Anyway,” Neil said, “I wouldn’t want to teach sex education by myself, even to the boys. There is too much I don’t know.”

“Come on!”

“‘I don’t know nothin’ ’bout birthin’ no babies,'”  Neil quoted. “Nor about nursing them, for that matter. How can I answer their questions on that?”

“Do you want me to teach it with you?”

“I think it would be better. And I don’t think it would embarrass them too much. They all think of us as sexless old fogies anyway, just like their parents.”

Fiona thought about it for a minute, then said, “I think that’s a great idea. It also overcomes your objections about the scandal. I’m sure the girls will appreciate your perspective.”

“Now wait a minute . . .”

“What? You’d better not say anything sexist.”

“. . . I did not say that I wanted to teach sex ed. to the girls. That is a whole different story.”

“Oh, it is, is it?” Fiona demanded icily. “And why is that?”

“Because males are threatening creatures in our culture. They wouldn’t want me there.”

“Bull! I’ve seen those girls following you around the playground. You have a regular fan club. You are half way between a father figure and someone safe enough to have a crush on. They may be a little embarrassed, but they aren’t going to feel threatened by you.”

“Their parents’ might.”

“That’s their problem. If they do, let Bill handle them.”

Once Fiona got something in her mind, it was hard to stop her; against his better judgment, Neil found himself helping plan which day to set aside for them to team-teach sex education.

# # #

Late that night, in a state of mellow, playful afterglow, Neil told Carmen about his conversation with Fiona.

At first Carmen was worried for the same reason Neil had been, because of the scandal. Then she shrugged it off. “You have to go on with your life as if Alice Hamilton had never existed. If people give you trouble, you have to face it, but you can’t stop doing things because they might disapprove. As teachers, we get in a habit of being super careful when half the time the rest of the world doesn’t care.”

She burrowed deeper into the holow of his arm and teased, “You and Fiona and sex. Who would have ever thought it?”

“Fiona and I were — friendly — back when you wouldn’t have anything to do with me.”

“Oh!”

“She had me over for a bite of dinner.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t for dinner and a bite?” And she bit him.

“Ouch!” He bit her back, but very gently and on a spot that would best appreciate the tender press of his teeth. Then he gave equal time to that it’s twin sister.

# # #

Carmen rose up on an elbow. She was just a silhouette against the light coming from the half open bathroom door, and Neil could not read her face. She said, “Tell me about you and Fiona.”

“Jealous?”

“Please, Neil. Don’t tease me.” more tomorrow

Sex Ed.

A miracle took place right in front of Neil and he did not see it. Then one morning, when the spring sunlight fell hard upon the playground, he looked around him and all his children were no longer children.

They had come to him looking like babies, but only two or three still did. The rest had shot up, slimmed down, and slowed down. Where they used to come into the classroom and sit squirming for forty-five minutes, they now sat down and went to their work with quiet maturity. They ran now with a loping awkwardness, and they had begun to notice one another in a new way. Puberty was setting in and hormones were flowing through their young bodies like the sap in the trees.

The school year was three-quarter’s gone. Neil could look back with satisfaction on the things he had learned and the progress he had made. His children were doing well. Only seven of the Chicano children were still coming regularly to his after school class in Mrs. Alvarez’s apartment, but the ones who remained were learning rapidly. He only regretted not starting the class sooner.

Kiernan had proved a refuge in which to recover his strength. He had weathered the storm of controversy surrounding his actions in Oregon. If there were any parents who still believed him guilty, they had given up attempting to have him removed. The children had forgotten all about it.

# # #

Neil was in the teachers’ lounge grading papers over a cup of coffee. Fiona had been sitting with Glen Ulrich when Neil came in, having a discussion that verged on being an argument. She got up, crossed to where Neil was sitting, and said, “How would you like to do me a favor?”

“Sure. What?”

“You’re agreeable this morning. I want you to teach sex education with me.”

“What?”

Fiona laughed at his consternation. She explained, “I teach sex education as part of the regular science class to seventh and eighth graders, but is is school policy to teach it to sixth graders as a separate unit. We give it all to them in one afternoon.”

“Why?”

“There are some parents who object to having sex taught to their children in school. This way we can give them the option of holding their child out of the class.”

After a minute, Neil said, “I don’t like that.”

“Me, either. Sixth grade is the year most girls have their first menstrual period and it can be a terrifying experience, especially with all the old wives tales they hear. And they can get pregnant without ever knowing what is going on.

“What we do is, we send out a letter that says if you don’t want your child to participate, sign here. If we don’t get a letter back, then we assume that its okay. The kids usually read all the notes they carry home, so a lot of them never get there. If anyone does send back a refusal letter, I call them and try to talk them into letting their child take the class.”

Neil smiled and said, “It sounds like you have it all covered. You won’t be needing me.”

“Wrong. I always teach the girls and Glen or Tom always teaches the boys. However, since our sixth grade core teacher is male this year, and since you have established a rapport with them . . .”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“What?”

“My scandalous past. These parents have gotten off my back and accepted me as a temporary replacement, but I’d lay you odds they don’t want me talking to their boys about sex.” more tomorrow

“Do you still think I am not fit to teach your daughter?”

Maria Alvarez said, “I’m not sure.”

“You were pretty sure that I wasn’t fit, so I guess that’s progress. May I sit down?”

She gestured gracelessly toward the couch. He sat. Rosa stuck her head around the door, then jerked it back when her mother yelled something to her in Spanish.

Mrs. Alvarez moved a kitchen chair up and sat very stiffly facing Neil. Jose Alvarez was watching protectively. She made a side comment to him that Neil could not understand.

“Mrs. Alvarez, I have a problem that you may be able to help me with. It has nothing to do with what happened in Oregon. It has to do with the education of the Mexican children in the sixth grade.”

She nodded.

“I don’t have any Spanish, so if you want, Rosa can translate.”

“I do okay. If I don’t understand something, you can say it some other way. I don’t want her in here.”

Neil said, “All right,” and began to explain how his year had gone. He gave here a brief explanation of the pros and cons of leveling, told her of his early failures, told her how he had leveled his class, and told her of the results he had had since he has discontinued leveling.

She heard him through, and Neil thought he detected a softening in her as he talked. She had respected him once, and she wanted to respect him again, but trust is easier to win the first time than it is to regain once it has been lost. When he finished, she said, “Why you telling me this?”

“Rosa has been having Delores Perez over to study here, hasn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“How would you feel about having a larger group of students over to study?”

“How many?” Maria asked.

Neil took a paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and handed it to her. “There are twenty names on the list, but I doubt that more than half of them would come.” She glanced at the list as Neil continued, “What I am asking is this: would you be willing to contact the parents of these kids and talk them into sending them to your apartment for half a day each day during spring break? If you will do that, I will come here and teach them at their own level. If it’s a success, I will continue to come after school for the rest of this year.”

She shook her head. “Twenty kids, here?” She looked around at the tiny apartment.

“Probably ten kids or fewer. It doesn’t have to be at your apartment, but it needs to be somewhere in this little barrio so the kids can walk to get to it.”

“You’ll do this?”

“If you find the place, and talk the parents into it, I will teach them.” more tomorrow

On the day that prompted Neil’s mental review, Rosa Alvarez was trying desperately to prepare Delores Perez to read a passage on which they would all be graded. Neil disliked this particular exercise; it was a cruel means of getting the low readers to read aloud, but he had not yet found an alternative.

Rosa left her group and came up to Neil, looking completely frustrated. “Mr. McCrae,” she said, “I can’t get Delores to read that paragraph. It’s just too hard for her. Can’t she read something easier?”

Neil said, “I know. I’ve been watching. Are you sure that she isn’t going to get it?”

“I’m sure.”

Neil fished into a desk drawer and pulled out one of the fourth grade textbooks he had been using when they were leveled and said, “All right. If she can’t, she can’t. Let’s find something she can read.”

Then Rosa startled him with her mature assessment. She said, “I like the way we are reading now better than before, but I don’t think the kids like Delores are learning as much.” Rosa picked up the textbook and said, “This will be great. Delores has been coming over to my house at night to study. Now I think I can help her.”

Neil watched her walk back to her desk, shaking his head in wonder. Yet it should have been no surprise. Chicano girls are taught hard work and responsibility early in life; they often spend hours a day caring for their younger siblings. It is only in school, where the shyness that they are also taught inhibits them, that they seem placid and unresponsive.

At recess that morning, Neil listed his low readers and went to check out their addresses. Sure enough, most of them lived in the Oaks and Johnson apartments. That night he waited around school until the busses had had time to deliver their students, then drove to the Oaks Apartments and knocked on the Alvarez’s door.  He had deliberately come alone because he wanted Maria Alvarez to talk to him, not to Carmen. If there was need of a translator, he would depend on Rosa.

Jose Alvarez answered the door. He looked hostile at first, but then his look turned embarrassed and he motioned Neil in, calling toward the back of the house in Spanish. Maria came out drying her hands on a towel and stopped abruptly at the sight of Neil.

“Good evening, Mrs. Alvarez,” Neil said. “Buenas tardes. I’m afraid that’s about all the Spanish I know.”

“What do you want. Is something wrong with Rosa?”

“Rosa is doing extremely well. I have a question for you. Do you still think I am not fit to teach your daughter?”

Maria Alvarez’s eyes were opaque black and her face was suspicious. She said, “I’m not sure.” more Monday