Life's not fair

I remember when I was little and I would whine that something wasn't fair and my dad would ask, "Who said life was fair?" Some people live to exploit life's unfairness for their own gain. Some people spend their whole lives whining about it. Most of us wish it wasn't that way. Once in a while, someone decides to try to do something about it. Once you grow up, if you are one of those people who actually grow up, you realize that there are things that you can make fair and things you can't. You also learn to tell the difference between intentional and unintentional unfairness.

You know that I have been on a rant lately about the unfairness of the immigration situation in this country, and I have been heartened to see more and more people leaning towards the approach of Kennedy and McCain in this matter. We are not all born into the same circumstances, but we can do what we can, especially in a nation such as ours to even the playing field as much as possible. Today, I had to deal with a smaller instance of unfairness. Still, it affected me and a student of mine who I very much like.

Next Friday is the big spring folklorico show for the group I direct at school. We call it "El Gran Show de Primavera". We have a mixed group--in ability, dedication, generosity and so on. Earlier in the year, after a shooting incident, we lost several dancers to harassment, and, sadly in the case of one student, to actual involvement in the crime. With our numbers down, I could no longer get rid of students who did not comply with all the rules or attend all the practices. Our choreographer began missing more and more rehearsals out of frustration, but since we have little money and she worked for very little, it was a situation that had to be accepted. Often times, our two student officers, with no notice, had to step in and run rehearsals. While I am the "director" of the program, I have little control over some of its very important aspects.

Yesterday, a very sweet, hard-working, helpful dancer missed a key rehearsal for choreography and was cut from a dance, along with another student who was out sick. She found out today. It seemed unfair. Well, let's face it, it was unfair. The whole program is unfair. My situation is unfair--and unpaid. The student officers' situation is unfair. The fact that the school wants to have the program, but doesn't fund it is unfair. Unfortunately, rather come to speak to me about it during a calm moment, the girl interrupted my forth period Spanish class and started yelling at me in front of my class. She pointed out that another girl had missed a practice and had not been cut from a dance. I explained that it was an easier choreography, that the student was an officer, that she was a more experienced dancer and the choreographer felt that she could pick up the choreography. She felt that meant that two students were being treated differently. Well, they were, but they were different people with different experience levels. One had carried a lot of weight all year with no extra credit, no higher grades. Really, that was more unfair than one girl being cut from one dance. But the main lesson here, like my dad always said was: "Who said life was fair?"

Was it fair for her to interrupt my class? Was it fair for the choreographer to miss so many classes? Was it fair that innocent kids were harassed out of the school after a few kids committed a horrendous crime?

As a teacher, I want every kid to have a fair chance. Of course kids come to me with different baggage, different parents, different home lives, talents, intelligences, attention spans, illnesses, fears, hopes. You spend day after day trying to make things as fair as you can. What is fair for one is not always fair for another, just as one student's best is 100% on a test and another's best is to keep struggling until they pass a test. What happened to this girl was unfair, but not intentionally unfair. If we had another week until the show, maybe we could have kept her in that dance. If our choreographer hadn't missed classes, maybe we would have already blocked that dance. But we have one week and the choreographer had missed classes and that's that. I hate to see a kid upset like that, especially when it is a kid I really like, who works hard, who lends a helping hand. But, life isn't fair.

It is one of the hardest and most important lessons we can learn.

Immigration: Taxation without representation

I keep hearing about these illegal immigrants who work for next to nothing, use our services, and don't pay taxes. But what about those who do pay taxes? I'm not talking just about sales tax, though they pay that daily, too. I'm talking about the billions of dollars that illegal immigrants have paid into social security--but can't collect? What about the many illegal immigrants who actually file income taxes, because they are grateful for the opportunities that they have here? People who pay taxes voluntarily out of gratitude or maybe just hope in a dream of one day living in this country out from under the dark weight of that label "illegal". Sound like hardened felons to you?

Today at school I was talking to some of my students about this immigration debate-- my students, who through the decisions of adults in their lives, are illegal immigrants. Many of their parents are contributing to social security. Some just finished or are getting ready to file their income taxes this year. Of course, not all the families of the "illegals" I teach (I prefer the term "students") are paying income taxes. I don't leave in a dream world. But why don't they pay?Are they all just greedy or dishonest? No, though I am sure that some probably are--probably in a percentage about equal to that of greedy, dishonest U.S. citizens. Some are extremely poor. Some are paid "under the table" and don't know how to go about getting a tax I.D. number. Some may not know they can. Some are afraid that they will be deported, that their children ripped out of schools and returned to a "homeland" they barely remember.

Did any of these people ranting about the drain these "illegals" have on our economy ever sit down at a table with these hardworking people and ask them if they wanted to pay their fair share or even if they've already started?

God bless Sen. McCain and Sen. Kennedy for standing up for those immigrants who are here working hard, providing for their families--and in many cases for ours--without official representation. We who vote need to stand up and represent for them!

Immigration: Minors should not be blamed

This whole debate that is going on in the country regarding illegal immigration is missing a fundamental point, which is that some immigrants were brought here as minors. There is no way that someone brought here by their families as a child should be lumped into the same category as their parents.

I am a high school teacher in Texas and I teach some illegal immigrants. Some have been in this country for several years, some most of their lives. They were brought here or sent here by their parents or other family members. They did not, all by themselves, at six years old save up a couple thousand dollars for a coyote to smuggle them across the border in the trunk of a car and then set up house in Austin. They are here, because right or wrong, for better or worse, an adult on who they depended, brought them here.

Once here, they made friends, went to school, built their support network, often under very difficult conditions. Now, many of them lack real ties to their home countries. The teachers who can write them recommendation letters are here, for example. What can they really hope to go back to? Through no fault of their own, their lives are here.

I don't think these kids should be jumped to the front of the immigration line ahead of those who have followed proper channels, but I think that kids who came here as minors and finish high school and respect all the other laws of our country, should be allowed to join the line somehow. Otherwise, we're saying: drop out of school, get into trouble or go to work in some shady business at eleven years old. Working hard means nothing. Education means nothing. You are a criminal. We're saying that people should pay for the rest of their lives for the mistakes of their parents.

Whatever you think of the families who brought them here, those brought here as minors are innocent.

The Birth of the Epabuey

Today I am going to tell you a story. If you speak Mexican Spanish or decent "Tex-Mex" this will be hilarious. If not, well, I'm not sure, but here goes....

I teach Spanish at a high school in Austin, Texas. I have a group of girls in my 3rd period class who really want to learn Spanish and really want to speak to the Spanish-speaking kids (most of whom are Mexican), but they are too shy. So, they started to eavesdrop on the Mexicans in the hallways between classes. One day, about a month and a half ago, they came to class with a pressing question. They wanted to know what an "epaway" was. They informed me that the Mexicans were always talking about this "epaway" and shouting it at each other in the hallways.

What the girls were really hearing was "Epa, buey!" "Epa" is like "hey". A "buey" is literally an "ox", but is used like "dude, man, or dog". The Mexicans of course were not talking about an "epaway", but were greeting their friends with "Hey, dude!"

I have created a hybrid creature, the "Epabuey". This is a fearsome beast that eats homework. Now if a girl in third period doesn't have her "tarea" or "homework", I ask her: "Que paso? La comio el Epabuey?" ("What happened? Did the Epabuey eat it?")


Note: Since I have selected English as my blog language, I can't seem to get the upside-down question and explanation marks or the accent marks. I am a good Spanish teacher. I know how it is supposed to look!!!

Choosing Me.

Choosing me. It is so hard for me to choose me. I know that if I want to accomplish certain things in life I am going to have to put myself first sometimes, but it is hard. I am a teacher, after all. I used to be in international banking, but it wasn't gratifying enough--it paid better, but it wasn't gratifying enough.

I was going insane in a completely disfunctional school district and left teaching for a while. Tried sales, because everyone said how if I could sell rural kids from the middle of nowhere into working concession stands to go to Spain or get a bunch of minority kids to join the tennis team, I could sell anything. But I couldn't sell things that I didn't think were benefitting the other person more than me. I couldn't sell things to make a buck for me. I tried to get excited. I tried to imagine down the line how many people I could help with money and opportunity, eventually, but at the point of sale itself, it felt, well, kind of greedy.

Well, now I have decided to stop sponsoring the ballet folklorico program at the high school where I teach. I sponsored it originally because no one else wanted it and I wanted to help the kids. And I did, but I have to hire a choreographer, because I can't really teach all the regions of a dance I had never seen before I started the gig and it involves huge amounts of time and only a few of the kids care and I have so many talents and I could do so much if I could free up some time.... And even though I know I have a lot to give in other areas, the thought of hurting or disappointing just one kid is really tough. It isn't like I am leaving the school, which would meab I 'd have to leave the group. I will be around, just not working the program for them.

But I know I have to do it. The folklorico really drains me. I want to start an online magazine to get people 15-25, especially girls, hooked into foreign affairs. I need time to do it. I need emotional energy left over at the end of the day. Just teaching all day without a dance group at the end can take a lot out of you, especially when the chapter tests and planning come home with you over the weekend.

But it is hard and while I feel relief for having made the choice, I feel a pang in the pit of my stomach, as well. But I know I really do have talents and interests that I can use to touch many, many people. It is just hard. I have to believe that choosing me will somehow be choosing them, too.