Once Upon a Time in America

Once Upon a Time in America
(The Little School House is where I learned to read)


My first day in school was a memorable day. I attended elementary school in the late 60’s and early 70’s and I couldn’t speak a word of English. I was a spoiled, bratty child and I lived with Abuelita until I was six, and you all know how doting Latino grandparents can be. My Abuelita was no exception. Hell, I didn’t know I had parents, I thought Abuelita was my “parent”. I had no concept of a traditional family. My family consisted of my grandmother and Uncle Enrique.
I remember the white school house set in the middle of alfalfa fields in the North side of Imperial County. This was migrant-worker territory. There were two classes: the haves, and the have-nots.
In the 60’s, there was no such thing as English as a Second Language. You learned to speak English or you were out of luck or stuck in a closet.
In that small room, with first and second graders, I behaved like a monkey in the jungle. I ran in and out of desks, closets, and over anything in my way. I kicked the stupid boys and made the girls cry when I pulled their hair. The teacher yelled something and I had no idea what she said. Her voice grew shrill, still, I had no idea what the woman wanted. I continued my play with my new friends. The classroom was MY jungle!
Mrs. Jorgensen grabbed my long, black hair and pulled me towards a desk! Whoa! I had never been treated so abruptly. My mouth trembled as a tear escaped my eye. She yelled, and yelled some more as I sat crying as she raised her voice with words with no meaning!
From that moment on, I figured when the teacher’s voice grew loud I should pay attention to her hand signals and stop whatever shenanigans I was up to and sit down.
How I won this woman’s heart is still a mystery to me. This dear woman grew to love me and would spend every recess holding a Jack-and-Jill primer for me as my little index finger followed the words along the page. Within a year I spoke and read fluent English! Abuelita was so proud of me!
It was in this small classroom, with a white-steeple, where I became addicted to reading. I could not get enough! I won the school library readers’ contest. I read on the school bus ride home. I read at the dinner table. I read in bed and used a flashlight when the lights were turned off.
One person can make a difference in a child’s life. Mrs. Jorgensen was a true professional and gave me a world of mystery, drama, and comedy.
I weeded cotton fields as a little girl, but because someone loved to teach, I did not grow up to be a migrant worker and now sit in an air-conditioned office consulting and educating physicians.

Hermelinda Saine Ramsay
September 30, 2008