Just the other day Son Numero Uno was telling me that his high school teacher (a recent arrival from the Midwest) didn't believe that Hispanics suffered discrimination in South Texas in recent years.
As he was telling me this, we were on our way to visit his grandparents along FM 802 on Weslaco Road. We had just gone under the overpass of US 77-83. There is a new digital billboard at that corner and coincidentally, it had been displaying an ad for the breakfast tacos (at 99 cents) sold at local Stripes stores. The billboards are state-of-the-art (locally anyway) and the photo showed the business end of a bacon-potato-and-egg taco pointed right at the viewer.
I smiled to myself at his remarks and couldn't help but break out in a little laugh. He, of course, in his best high school teacher style, remarked: "What's so funny? Why don't you share your joke with us so we can all laugh?"
I told him about when I had first attended the first grade in Olmito elementary. My dad was a foreman and also drove a tractor for one of the large cotton farms which at the time dominated local agriculture. When it came time for me to go to school, I jumped on a bus with my two older sisters and we traveled four or five miles to Olmito.
I didn't speak a word of English, and neither did many of the first-time students whose parents also worked on the farms. At the time, cotton was still picked by hand as was the thinning of the rows. It was hard, back-breaking work and the only labor I ever saw in the fields were local Hispanics and Mexican nationals who were picked up by my Dad at the Lopez Supermarket in downtown Brownsville next to the Vally Transit terminal. In those days, the Border Patrol was very lenient with local farmers and would turn a blind eye to their use of illegal workers.
If you think the picking of cotton in the hot sun was hard, the thinning was even harder. The men would wear leather knee pads and literally crawl down half a mile rows pulling two-inch plants to give the others room to grow so a crop could be picked later. The men would straighten up at the end of the day and walk half-bent to drink water or crawl back up onto the truck awaiting them to take them back to town where they would make their way back to Matamoros.
If you think the picking of cotton in the hot sun was hard, the thinning was even harder. The men would wear leather knee pads and literally crawl down half a mile rows pulling two-inch plants to give the others room to grow so a crop could be picked later. The men would straighten up at the end of the day and walk half-bent to drink water or crawl back up onto the truck awaiting them to take them back to town where they would make their way back to Matamoros.
When we went to school, my Mom sent us with flour tacos stuffed with our favorite filling. Carne guisada with beans was my favorite. My sisters also took their tacos with them. But soon there arose a problem, or rather, various problems.
Spanish was prohibited in school and I was literally incommunicado for the better part of first grade. I didn't speak English and my teacher was in her 70s and didn't speak a lick of Spanish. To make matters worse, the white kids and the "townie" Hispanics in school laughed at us at lunchtime when we took out our tacos from our brown paper lunch bags to eat. They had sandwiches.
When my Mom found out, she had our Dad buy us baloney and sliced bread, something we never ate at home. She did it to make the girls' social life a bit more bearable. I, who didn't understand, wasn't bothered.
The other kids aboard the bus with us were also Mexican farm kids. They, too, took tacos their mothers sent for lunch. As soon as they found out I had baloney sandwiches we did what kids from time immemorial have done: we traded. The kid whom I traded with had a Mom who was a culinary artist and made soft flour tacos that wrapped exquisitely around a core of soft fried diced potatoes mixed with bacon bits and drippings. They were to kill for.
And to make sure that there was no one laughing at us as we ate, we found a mesquite tree by the railroad tracks at the east side of the school yard to eat. There, in the shade of the tree, we ate and spoke Spanish in safety. That tree still stands today just inside the fence by the rialroad tracks.
In the classroom, it was another story. Since I couldn't speak English, I sat at the rear of the reading groups. I didn't fit in the A group, the B group, the C, or for that matter, any group. When I spoke with other students and Miss Stroman (Mis Trompas) caught me, it meant standing facing a corner or with a penny pressed to my nose as punishment. Talk about "immersion."
After a few months of this routine, I asked one of my mesquite lunchtime friends how to ask permission to use the bathroom. He told me something that sounded like "Maybescuz."
That afternoon I tried it. I raised my hand and Miss Stroman looked up from reading to the A group and motioned me to approach. I uttered: "Maybescuz?"
The poor woman nearly had a heart attack and the reading group fell silent. She motioned with her right hand to the hallway and I walked in the bath. All the kids in there, of course, were chattering away in Spanish and wanted to know how I had done it. From there on, a conspiracy of Spanish developed and I went on to the second grade.
On the way to my parents house off 802 we also passed by a Taco Bell off Old Highway 77. I remember a joke told to me by a fellow Hispanic student in graduate school in Madison, Wisconsin, that a white friend of his was congratulating him for Hispanics having finally come on their own and achieving success by having their own phone company now: Taco Bell.
It took a while for the kids to catch on to that one. But as for me, every time I go by that restaurant, I can't help but remember lunchtimes at Olmito elementary under that old mesquite tree and I break into the smile that makes my kids suspicious that I'm up to something.
20 comments:
Juan, thanks for sharing your story that is so familiar to many of us. I can remember that at Putegnat, Spanish was prohibited. In first grade, the students would start reading Fun with Dick and Jane, so Miss Castaneda would teach us how to read "Is Tip here? No, Tip is not here! See Jane. See Dick. Go Jane go. Run Dick." That was the extent of the English language being learned. The boys knew they should not speak Spanish on the playground, so they all went around talking in the only English they knew. Hi, Joe, is Tip here. No, Juan, Tip is not here. Run Dick run. Stop Jane Stop. It made them feel good that they now knew how to speak English and not be punished by running laps around the school fence. Those times made us what we are today and we all learned to make a living for ourselves and our family. You should have more stories like this in your column.
There is a tremendous amount of racism in Brownsville in the year 2012. It is rampant and endemic and weighs heavly on those who are the object of it's ugly presence.
These days, it is the Anglo that receives the racist words, looks and actions. It is the Anglo who is last to be waited on in stores. It is the Anglo who is invisable to the brown folks around it.
But this is nothing new. In 1953, I took the bus from its old stoping place on Washington street to my home in West Brownsville. I got off at the wrong stop and had to make a much longer walk. I was accosted by some "hispanic" teenage males and beaten with sticks and pelted with rocks while they cursed me in Spanish.
Then there was the time I was walking from the old Eagle's Nest food stand down the ally by the Industrial Arts building at the old BHS campus on Palm Blvd. Several Pachucos who were there, decided to called me a Pinche cabron gringo. When I objected, they knocked me around until others came along and stoped it. This was 1957.
So Juan you have your stories of what it was like to grow up in a school system where English was required. There are many others of us who have stories of racism and violence against us, just because of the color of our skins.
Sorry old friend, but the Hispanics hold no moral high ground down here. Every one of you knows about the racism attitude and words against the Anglo population. You should practice a little honesty.
Let me see if I got this right. Juan started school at the age of 5 or 6 knowing not one word of English and now he feels like the victim of racism because the school system made him learn to speak English.
These days students and faculty converse more in Spanish on BHS campuses than in English. They get to college and they do not have a good command of either English or Spanish. The vast majority don't graduate and end up in dead end jobs. I teach at UTB/TSC and know whereof I speak.
Yep, we have come a long way since folks were made to run laps for speaking Spanish on campus and most of it have been in a backwards direction.
The racist all English school systems of another day, gave people a better future than the ones of today. You should probably stop feeling sorry for yourselves and thank those who taught you English so you could make your way in America.
Poor little Juanito! He was forced to learn English by those racist Gringa bitches. He went on the college and graduate school and then a career in journalism where the English language was his stock in trade.
Just think of where he would be today, without all that awful racism that had been inflicted on his little brown ass. Pobrecito Juanito! Que triste.
Very good article. It brings many memories from the years gone by. I wish I could say that those memories were all good. However, it was such experiences that allow us to move forward and achieve things in life to help our families and our community. The previous reader posted that you should write more stories like this one in your column. The fact is that you should because other can learn and appreciate from those experiences. You are highly criticized for your posting. Your readers often express that you are a "vendido." However, those same readers can not deny that you are an excellent writer.
Guero guerinche con la cara de pinche...bolio...white boy...you can't even say your last name right...being segregated just cause you are white skinned in a browntown...a que mi pobre Juan...the thing that stands out about your story is you will always be a 'bictum' never a 'bicter'. My brown skin friend...too bad for you...lmao!
Yep, that is why our education has degraded. There are more bilingual classes at our public schools than English classes, which slows the education for our children who are willing to learn. I also learned to the English language by listening and paying attention. My teachers did not even know that I had a deficiency in the English language. Now aday the children
who do not speak English get preference over the ones who do. Anyway back then I was embarrassed to eat my bean tortillas but now I am proud to have my accomplishments as a Hispanic
I agree with the UTB/TSC teacher. I work for BISD and Spanish is spoken more than English and they wonder why the scores are so bad on the state exams. They have not mastered the language! They should do away with bilingual education and use the funding to teach English instead. Back when we went to school you either sank or swam and the majority of us decided to swim. Now they are swimming across the river and sinking our education system.
My dad taught us to use racist hate to our advantage. Master both languages,get an education,have a career and don't look back or feel sorry for ourselves. We all have wonderful jobs and happy lives. That is what is important.
We don't go around complaining about not getting that" little red wagon" and the" probecito me" mentality. That gets old very soon as so many Hispanics "have a story to tell".
Our story is "work,help each other and never get on the public tit".
My parents are my heroes.
Welcome to the club Juan! Many of us went thru the same experience you went thru. Total emersion is the only way to truly learn English. Back in the day, pasabamos muchas penas, but you know what, we were learning humility. Look at all the kids and teachers that sound like they just swam across the river. The bilingual program was designed to keep the hispanic race sounding like mojados. You know that humility we learned from the embarrasments we experienced; that has made us better individuals. These kids today that are pampered by the system; the first serious disappointment they experience and they go hang themselves in the closet! You may have your bad habits Juanio, but if a stranger read your articles, they would think you were Ivy League educated. I am proud of my education from South Texas!
"Guero guerinche con la cara de pinche...bolio...white boy"
There you go..another 2012 racist!Se abundan mucho aqui in Browntown.
Some years back I spent 1 year in Central America at the Spanish Language Institute, where speaking any language other than Spanish on campus was banned. It was hard and difficult, but we all learned to speak Spanish. This was not racist, but a serious attempt to teach another language.
Using your mother tongue as a crutch will slow down or stop the learning of another language. The kids of today in Cameron County are placed at a serious disadvantage by our current attitudes toward bilingual education. bilingual eucation is fueled by a political motivation and not the best interst of the children.
We need to turn back the clock, not to be racist, but to provide for the education and future of our children. It wasn't racist then, it would not be racist now. Everybody must work and climb over barriers in life to find sucess. It is to bad that some folks don't want to climb over the barriers, but just want to paint a sign "Racist" on the barrier and walk away looking for the easy road which leads to failure.
Wow! Thank you Juan for the article and to all who have contributed wonderful comments that show that our town is no different than any other. I will require all of my sociology students to read them all.
Tony Z
Sounds like a great success story. I'm not getting where racism is supposed to be found in the story.
I went to Hanna as a LEP student. I had a horrible experience my first year. That teacher only spoke Spanish to us and had us do word finds day in and day out. She would sit and gossip about all the other staff and try to help us find ways to get them in trouble for not teaching us right, according to her. It was the worst year of my life. I NEEDED TO LEARN ENGLISH AS I ALREADY KNEW SPANISH.
I lost a whole year.
I was lucky that for the next three years I had the best ESL/English teachers in the world.They understood that I knew the concepts-I just needed to learn English so I could express myself.
I passed all my state mandated tests and graduated in the top ten percent.
Some times we are held back by our very own because they are lazy and just don't care. It is ALL about the paycheck.
My parents reported that teacher but I don't think anything was done about it.
English needs to be taught because the majority in the valley know Spanish.
Amen!
Juan funny you posted your story and educated me about the Brownsville school district back then. Ever since I moved to Brownsville 14 years ago, I would have never guessed any Hispanic like you and me would have been forced to speak English at school. It seems everywhere I go in Brownsville, Spanish is the primary language. I have noticed that its not just the older generation, but many of my encounters have been with today's youth. It's always, "buenos Dias" and I respond by saying, "thank you, same too you" and they continue speaking in Spanish. Believe me when I say that's not my issue! My issue is that I have a 14 year old son in bisd and he's having difficulty with the language barrier. He recently moved to Brownsville and does not speak a lick of Spanish to save his life. Some of his teachers prefer speaking and teaching in Spanish since the majority only speak Spanish and they don't want to repeat themselves in English. Mind you that we are in the 21st century and we are going in reverse. Now I know it's my fault because I should have taught my son how to speak spanish,but I will be like most Americans and blame my parents. When I was growing, they instilled in my sister and me the importance of learning English and made us watch tv stations like, abc, CBS, and NBC and watch the Walton's, happy days, and little house on the prairie. We wouldn't watch telemundo or gala vision. So I myself have difficulty speaking Spanish. So I commend your teachers for reaching their goal and responsibility of teaching you the english language. You should be grateful!
I too learned from the Dick and Jane 1st grade reader. What a simple story, he was always trying to dick Jane.
A 14 year old should not be required to speak Spanish to receive a public school education in the State of Texas. Slice and dice that anyway you wish, it is just plain wrong.
The teachers that are not teaching ESL or Spanish should be teaching in English. If I had a child that was being taught in Spanish when he should be taught in English I would complain. When my child started school over twenty years ago she attended private school and everyone was required to speak English or you couldn't enroll. My child was a high achiever and graduated with honors from BISD, the excellent foundation was in English though! Teachers the students practice enough Spanish at home and every where else, the only place to practice and to become proficient in English is at SCHOOL!!!
Post a Comment