The last thing i remember about Matamoros, on the day we left, is the light beige outside walls of the mercado where my mom and aunt Carmen had the store. The front of the building faced east and the packed station wagon was in the parking lot; the shadow from the mercado covered half the lot which means it was late afternoon. I think mom and dad had sold the business to someone, but my sister had gone in and rescued a paper bag full of candy at the last minute; i didn't know we could that, dang it! no one told me these things? She never let that stupid bag out of her sight, neither.
A month before that, though, i started second grade back in that two-story brown brick building, and unless my memory fails me, in the same classroom. What i am sure of is, it turns out, that i had the same teacher that i had in first grade, a certain miss Dolores del Rio; i know that beause i recall sitting in that classroom and we were basicly the same class from first grade, including the notorious Juan-Ramon, and who should walk in? She greets us and explains something and something or other, and due to those circumstances she would be our teacher again; and, you know what? we all cheered, that's how much we all loved her. And when she said simmer down, we simmered, and when she said take out a pencil and paper, we couldn't please her fast enough, we were that ga-ga. Our estropajoed litttle, shiny faces, the boys with our pomaded little pompadours, all looking up at her with anticipation, so eager to begin the learning process. We were together a few weeks and, alas, without ceremony or even an adiu, i was gone.
I'm no liguistics expert, but i've read that the average American has a 100,000 word vocabulary after graduating from high school and by age seven has about 10% of that. I don't think i learned 10,000 words in eight months, what my classmates learned in six years, but i think i had the vocabulary that they used in everyday conversation. I've always thought i had the advantage being seven and going into second grade at Hardin Elementary; because, in the case of my two sisters and i, when we were transplanted to Texas: my little sister was three and had no schooling in spanish and my big sister was thirteen and had finished sixth grade. So, lil' sis had a limited spanish vocabulary and big sis, in the begining, had a dificult time in school. Having first grade in me, i had the basics of spanish and could read it, but my brain had not yet finished wiring itself using the spanish schematic. So, my spanish is not great, adequate for normal conversation, but better than my little sister's, the only thing i can brag about with her, though; my older sister can talk circles around both of us, in spanish.
I'm obviously leaving out my sisters names, and that's for a reason: deny-ability; and you're welcome.
I was promoted to third grade, but i'm not absolutely certain that i wasn't one of those kids that were just moved through the system in the hopes that they would catch up, eventually; i don't know if that still happens, but i saw evidence it when i went to school. I can see that happening with me because of my special circumstances and because i could easily provoke pity but, after second grade, i'm fairly certain that i was passed for the right reasons.
Summer 1969, why my father dropped us off back in Matamoros, back to las casas de don Santos, for practically the whole summer, as i recall, i don't know, i can't speak for my parents. My aunt Carmen had a baby by then and i think my uncle was off working somewhere. I was reunited with my beloved pop gun but, i had to always take it outside; i was happy, for a day. Somehow mother found out, or maybe she intentionally asked about summer school for me, in Matamoros. So, she takes me to, of all places, back to mushroom land, back to where i refused to go to kindergarden; it was not summer kindergarden, it was just where they were holding summer school for kids who were behind; there were kids my age and younger.
I'm standing next to mom while she talks to the lady teacher, who was no Dolores del Rio, and there are a couple of girls with her that were my age and mom starts to tell her my situation about how we now live up north and how my spanish had become atrocious and, i guess to make it sound more dire, she added a few more subjects that i needed help with. It seems like eight years old would be a bit young to be dieing on the inside like i was at that moment. What made it bad were those two girls named Silvia and Amelia, who stared in disgust at the poor boy who would not let go of his mother's dress which, by the way, was one of her typical brilliantly colorful, flowery printed batas common in the tropical climes. So, the deal was done and the next day when it was time to go off to school i tried to throw one of my fits which landed me on the sidewalk and somehow threatened enough to get me walking still bawling towards school. I was nearly to mushroom land when walking in the oposite direction i run into don Santos, our landlord, who stops me and wants to know why i'm bawling like a little girl and i blubber something about life being unfair.
So, don Santos reaches into his pocket and takes out two twenty cent coins,
we called veintes, hands them to me, and says: mind your mother, go to school, and get yourself a paleta, so i did.
Why i didn't just opt to go somewhere and hang out, dunno; so i go to class where Silvia and Amelia, or Si and Am as i refer to them, were waiting for me. One time, when the class was working quietly, Si and Am were slinking around the teacher while she was checking their work, i approached to have my work checked, and i swear i heard them purring, until they saw me. They were inseparable and anytime i got something wrong, or didn't understand something, they were the first ones there to comment on it.
In the playground they sought me out and they would tell me things like: we don't care that you live over there, my mom has lunch with the teacher, my father is a policeman, your socks don't match. Day after day. All i could say to my mom was, there's something wrong with Si and Am, because, in english or in spanish, i hadn't learned the word: phycotic.
I got through it, though, and i think puzzling human behavior has always fascinated me.
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