Page 15 of Mixed Signals
Alex snickers and I deliberately hit a speed bump too fast, sending him tipping back and forth in his seat. He groans and claps his hand over his mouth.
“We both suffer if I throw up, you know.”
I dropAlex off at the curb of his bookstore and hightail it over to the high school, barely managing to skid into my classroom before the warning bell. I slip into the day, grateful for the distraction of twenty-eight angst-ridden teenagers pissed off about being in summer school. I spend more time intercepting notes between the McAllister twins than in my spiraling thoughts. It’s the best diversion I could ask for, all things considered.
I like working with kids. It’s the change I needed. The only reason I ever became a police officer in the first place was to get financial help for my degree. It wasn’t a calling, or a job I felt particularly passionate about. I liked helping people, and I get to do that here, too.
The conversations I have with my students are the best part of being a teacher.
“Can you help me translate this, Mr. Alvarez?”
I take the slip of paper out of Jeremy Roughman’s hand and glance down at his chicken scratch scribble across a piece of notebook paper. I sigh.
The conversations I have with my students are the worst part of being a teacher.
“No, I can’t.” I crumple the paper in a ball and toss it in the wastebasket under my desk. I feel like throwing it away isn’t enough. I need some lighter fluid. Maybe a box of matches. “Who are you even saying that to?”
He looks down at his feet and mumbles something under his breath.
“What was that?”
“I was gonna ask Lydia to the dance.”
My lips twitch. “And you thought reciting 90’s rap in Spanish would accomplish that particular goal?”
He shrugs his shoulders. “It works for you.”
I blink. I have no idea where he came up with that idea. “I am not reciting rap lyrics to anyone.”
“No, the Spanish thing. How’d you get so good at it? You’re a way better teacher than Ms. Metzler.”
Probably because Ms. Metzler didn’t speak any Spanish and only taught the kids how to order a quesadilla con chorizo from the culturally appropriative restaurant two towns over. And tres leches. I’m confident her approach to teaching Spanish was just reciting her dinner orders over and over again. It was a very low bar.
“Thank you.” I think. There’s always a lot to unpack every time Jeremy opens his mouth. “I grew up speaking Spanish. My whole family speaks it. My grandmother is from Todos Santos.” I have told this to the class no less than thirty-seven times.
He stares at me blankly. I rub the palm of my hand across my forehead. “It’s a town in Mexico, Jeremy. We were literally talking about it three days ago.”
“Oh, that’s right.” He snaps his fingers with a grin. “Those pictures with the girls in bikinis.”
I sigh again. If you zoomed in on my presentation, maybe. I guess I’ll have to go through and replace those slides. “The pictures with thebeaches, Jeremy.”
“Yeah, yeah. That’s what I meant.” He stares longingly at the basket I tossed his inspiration into. “You really won’t translate that for me?”
“I really won’t.” I cross my arms over my chest and lean back in my chair. “But how about you come up with something you want to say, and I’ll work on it with you.”
He opens his mouth.
“Something that isn’t vulgar, or a liberal interpretation of rap lyrics.”
He snaps his mouth shut with a grimace.
“Is this graded?”
I hide my grin behind a closed fist. This kid, I swear. “No, it’s not graded. You asked for help. This is me helping you.”
He looks like he regrets ever coming into this classroom at all. “I didn’t expect to get more homework out of it,” he complains. He sighs with all the drama of a prepubescent male and drags his hand through his hair. “Later, Mr. Alvarez.”
I watch him saunter into the hallway with all of the confidence of an adolescent man. I don’t even want to know the trouble that kid is off to get into now. I collect my things and reach for my bag. If I hurry and no one asks me to translate anything else, I should still be able to catch Layla at the bakery before she leaves for the day.
