Christopher Rubio-Goldsmith
THE ASSIGNMENT
This may be the way it went down. It was May. About three weeks before the end of the spring
semester. And I am teaching a senior AP English class and even if I juggle kittens or start
catching frisbees with my mouth, we are all ready for school to end. However for the final
assignment the students were supposed to complete an essay that explained their understanding
of Marquez’s Cien Anos De Solidad. And most completed the work. (I have been teaching that
novel for many years and I often wonder how Bruce Springsteen feels having to play Born To
Run every. Single. Night). The novel is incredible, but with limited resources for the high school
English department to purchase new novels, the teachers teach what is there. And the students
have tremendous skills but at this point of the year their creative spirits are already at the pool, la
playa, their summer trip to anywhere.
MISSING WORK
Andrea wants to be a doctor. She is ready to turn this page, no she is ready to burn the book and
move on to new adventures. Most students say, “I can hardly wait for this to be over.” Me too.
But I tell them the lie, “One day you’ll miss this.” I must look at the wall when I say it. Andrea
missed class Thursday and the day the project was due Friday. It’s now Monday and she is still
not in class. The students return the novels. Most say they enjoyed the experience. I believe some
of them.
CALLING HOME
I called her house. And it is so rare that I must call an AP student’s house to see what’s up; I am
sure most students and parents find a phone call from the AP English teacher a surprise. Because
usually Andrea’s friends would say, “She’s sick….she’s outta town…she is stuck at the train
crossing.” But this time, nada. And sure enough, her father is amazed she has not been to class
the last three school days. According to him, she will be home soon, but she spent Thursday,
Friday and the weekend at a friend’s house to help each other review for a calculus test. (Yikes, I
think). At this point I know the father knows that his daughter has played him and his wife. His
tone has changed. After a moment of silence, he thanks me for the phone call. I realize that
Andrea is returning home to some big questions. I believe every familia at one time, one way or
another has a Macondo experience. Some one has secrets. Rebellion can come in many forms.
The discreet secrets are sometimes difficult to understand.
REFLECTION
Teaching is usually a joy when it’s done right. I often arrived at school without much energy,
angry about the papers that I needed to grade, or for sure, already dreading the faculty meeting
that afternoon. (Questions about parking. Reminders about getting grades turned in on time). The
reality was ten minutes into the first class, my entire vibe changed. School is where I knew I
belonged. The challenges, most of the students ready to smile, full of ganas, and the privilege of
the profession often overwhelming. The nature of trust always profound. The parents, and these
young people all trust me so much. And they hardly know me. They walk through the door and
give themselves over to a type of trust that often gives me pause and reminds me that I must
make our time together full of positive experiences. Just keep the train on the tracks, the boat
headed for the harbor. Because you always return home with wherever you went.
THE TRUTH
Andrea is in class the next day and she flips her assignment on the desk with a toss that sends it
skidding onto the floor. She just keeps walking too. And I can sense that some of her classmates
know what shit went down at her casa. And let me say this, for a class two weeks before the end
of school, it feels a bit exciting to get some real emotion flying around the room. A long time ago
I was told, “Remember these students in AP are going to be fine. Do wonderful stuff later. Just
be sure we don’t break them.” I also know, experience is the best teacher. The late bell rings.
Everyone is in their seat. And Andrea says without looking at anyone or me, “You phoned my
house. Spoke to my dad.” And then I let her last words hang there. It was obvious that Andrea
had been caught breaking a trust. “I went to Coachella, to hear the Chili Peppers. And now I am
grounded. Can’t celebrate my graduation with my friends.” I wondered if she had any regrets? I
doubt that. She was trying not to smile too hard. Most of the students were shaking their heads. I
couldn’t say anything, but I put my head down and smiled to the floor, because I learned, many
years ago, I should never trust a student who does everything they are told.
Christopher Rubio-Goldsmith grew up in Tucson, Arizona and taught English at Tucson High
School for 28 years. Much of his work explores growing up near the border, being raised in
biracial/bilingual familia and teaching in a large urban school. A Pushcart and Best of the Net
nominee. Some of his writings have been published in, The Twin Bill, The San Pedro Review,
Clockhouse and other places too. His wife Kelly helps edit the work, sometimes. The two cats
sleep a lot.