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The facts in the following story are true. However, elements of people’s identities have been changed to preserve their privacy and anonymity.
It isn’t long after Rika enters the room that the quiet and orderly space suddenly turns on its head.
“¡Hola! Magdalena, ¿qué te pasa hoy en la clase de inglés? La profesora dijo que Mariból y tú estuvieran hablando, y entonces Juanito vino y…”
“Rika! Please be quiet, and stop bugging Magdalena! Yes, you’re in the afterschool program now, but you still need to follow rules.”
Huffing and puffing out her cheeks, Rika harrumphs and swings her book bag down hard on top of Magdalena’s desk. Her grey hoodie lands with equal force. “Sorry miss,” she says. Her words may be apologetic but her eyes sparkle with a hint of mischief.
Janet sighes. “You understand what I’m saying, right Rika? Please take your seat. You can talk to Magdalena after we have all had dinner.”
“Yes miss,” chimes Rika. With one sweeping motion she scoops up her bag and hoodie and sashays across the room. She looks at me and exclaims, “Hi, Miss!” before plopping down in her seat.
“Okay, class,” says Janet. “Now that everyone is ready, it’s time to go over the rules of the afterschool program. Can someone raise their hand and tell me the first rule of our program?”
A second grader’s hand shoots up. “Raise your hand if you have a question.”
“Correct! Now, can anyone tell me what the second rule would…”
“Miss! You know, I really need to talk with Magdalena about what happened earlier today….”
“Rika! Didn’t I tell you to wait until we were done with explaining our after school program’s rules? Now, who can tell me…”
“I’m so hungry. Can we eat now? I’m so hungry.”
“Rika! What did I just say?”
“But miiissssss, I’m huuuuunngryyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!”
“You’ll be able to eat after we finish up the list of rules. Come on, Rika, there are only two more. What’s the next one?”
Rika sits completely still. Then she rolls up her sweater and places her head on her make-shift pillow.
“Rika, I know you know the next rule. Would you please tell the class so that we can move on with the lesson?”
Silence.
“Alright, Rika. You don’t have to answer. Jane, can you tell me what the next rule…”
“Is she ever going to stop speaking? I’m sooooooooo hungryyyyyyyyyy!!!!!”
“Rika! That’s it. Fourth graders do NOT behave this way. You’re just going to have to wait out in the hall until the rest of us are done going over the rules. Dana,” Janet says turning to me, “will you please accompany Rika outside in the hallway while she waits?”
“Sure thing,” I say. Janet shakes her head as Rika jumps up and skips out the doorway.
When we’re outside, Rika starts fiddling with the combinations on each of the lockers in the first floor hallway of Luis Muñoz. I smile. When she notices this, she looks up and smiles back.
“Miss, do you have to go to swimming practice again like the other day?” she asks. I nod, a bit surprised that she remembered something about me like that.
“Yup,” I say, “I can only stay until 3:30, because practice starts at 4:30, and I need to get down to the pool at CSU on time.”
“I want to go swimming with you!” she exclaims, her eyes wide and shining. So as not to completely crush her hopes, I say, “Maybe. By the way, Rika, do you play any sports?”
“No. But sometimes I’ll play basketball with my brothers at the Y on weekends when they need an extra player.”
“That’s really cool.”
“Yeah. But I want to learn to swim. Do you have to do that thing where they jump off of those squares and dive into the water? I want to do that.”
“What, you mean diving in off of the starting block?” I ask. I bend down and take the starting position, trying to mimic how I would push my legs and throw my arms if I were going to compete in a race. “Like this?”
“Yeah! Just like that!” she exclaims, her face shining again.
“Well, you’re tall for your age. I’m sure you’d make a great swimmer or basketball player.” She looks at me for a moment, holding my gaze. The smile leaves.
“I used to live in Puerto Rico when I was younger,” she tells me. “When we lived there, I got all A’s. But here, everything is taught in English. It’s harder for me. That’s why I’ve been held back twice. I was never held back in Puerto Rico. But here, because I don’t understand English as well…” She clasps her hands behind her back and her foot plays with imaginary dust on the floor.
“Rika,” I say, “you know that even if you were held back, you’ll still be ahead of most other kids your age if you can speak and write in both Spanish and English.”
“I know,” she says, looking up at me. “That’s why I keep trying hard every day. If I keep working on my English skills, then I’ll be on top!” She grins large and wide, as if to say,
It’ll be alright. I shake my head, a sense of wonder filling my soul. She narrows her eyebrows, misunderstanding the gesture.
“I’m sure you will be, Rika. I’m sure you will.”
“Yeah!” she exclaims, giving me the thumbs up. From inside the classroom, I hear chairs scraping and tennis shoes skidding on the floor.
“Hey, Rika, I think that the other kids have gotten their food. Why don’t we go ask if we can go back inside, okay?”
“Alright! Food, food, food, food…”
A small giggle escapes my lips as I twist the knob to open the door.
The facts in the following story are true. However, elements of people’s identities have been changed to preserve their privacy and anonymity.
