“Um, I don’t know much.” S began to hunch inward, regretting that she’d said anything in the first place. “Your mom only speaks Spanish, right? And how is your Spanish?” My next question was what I wished I had been asked in fifth grade: “S, what language do you speak at home?” I knew the answer, of course, after parent-teacher conferences: I knew that feeling of shame and embarrassment too well.
“I’m going to learn Italian,” S, a Mexican student, responded. I went up to each student for their answers. At least Spanish was a choice for my Latinx students New York City schools was a long way from teaching the 600+ languages our students and their families speak. Sunset Park, Brooklyn, where I teach, is made up mostly of families from the Latinx and Asian diasporas, and while I hoped Chinese or Arabic would be available classes for my students’ families, only romance languages were on this list: Spanish, French, Italian. Rest in power, George Floyd, one year ago today.ĭraft Excerpt from Introduction of (working memoir title): Speaking Into Existence: A Daughter’s Journey Towards Teaching, Activism, and Her Familyĥth-grade graduation was looming, and I had to finalize one more thing for my students: what language class each of my students wanted to take in middle school. And, that I needed.” I’m honored to share, with the #31DaysIBPOC community and world, a draft memoir introduction I’ve been working on. Many people have asked, in not-so-many-words, “Who are you to write a memoir?” I reply, “I’m writing the story I don’t see anywhere else.
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