Más estrellas que en el cielo

I just finished reading this short story for a class on modern Latin American literature. My professor has a set of, oh, a dozen questions that we must answer for each piece we read. This particular cuento is giving me some trouble. I enjoyed it but I cannot say that I understand it. What is the conflict? Who is the protagonist? I am starting to think that the protagonist is actually a character that does not have a lot of "screen time", shall we say. However, he is the character that causes the action. The conflict is difficult to vocalize. It is similar to the struggle of an immigrant but without the connotation that the word "immigrant" has. It seems to me to be the opposite of a line in the Bible: "A prophet is not without honor, but in his own country, and among his own kin, and in his own house." (Mark 6:4) In this story at Denny's, we see that U.S. Americans do not understand the value of Latin Americans and their homes. It is only in Latin America that Latin Americans are understood. In the U.S., the average Joe thinks that anyone with almond-colored skin is from Mexico or Puerto Rico and they must be a custodian, chauffer, housekeeper, or nanny. We forget about Gabriel García Márquez, Frida Kahlo, Diego Rivera, Fernando Botero, and Simón Bolivar. That's just naming the first few that come to mind. Why don't we appreciate their culture and history? Why are we so blind to the beauty that has come from Mexico all the way to Argentina?

Native Speaker

I watched the most recent episode of Glee last night and it actually got me thinking about something other than Broadway. There was a character who was a Spanish teacher at night school and was also a native speaker. Throughout the episode multiple people mentioned the fact that he was a native speaking teacher. They seemed to infer that this was a very desirable quality. They never mentioned if his students understood spoken or written Spanish. They never showed his students speaking in the target language. However, the high school students wanted him to be the new Spanish teacher for two reasons only: he is handsome and he is a native speaker. Now, I understand that the current teacher in the show does not speak Spanish well at all. But what about those of us who have dedicated years to learning a language and culture? If I had been the high school teacher would everyone be as eager to give me the boot just to get Ricky Martin? (Yes, I also realize that he can sing better than I can.)

To top things off, I heard something similar on the local radio yesterday morning. The county community college had a representative discussing the interesting classes that are open to anyone. The woman made sure that the audience understood that all of the foreign language classes are taught by a native speaker. First of all, I highly doubt that is true. Secondly, why does it matter? Shouldn't she have mentioned that they are all bilingual or have many years experience in the class room? I feel like there are many other traits that would reel-in people.

Now I can't help but wonder if this is how school districts feel. If I plan to be a high school Spanish teacher, am I going to have to worry that someone will be chosen over me because they are a native speaker? Is this trait more important than experience or training? If that is the way things are then maybe I now have a valid excuse to move to Spain to teach English.

Life is like the surf . . .

I sometimes forget that I have such amazing people in my life that want to help me.  I blame my pride. As a child I was always told that I can do anything. My parents never did my homework. Yes, I never earned an 'A' on a science fair project but I learned so much. However, this self-esteem has brought with it an ugly friend. Since I believe that I can do anything that I put my mind to, I hate asking for help. I don't want to look like I'm lazy or stupid. I am starting to realize that asking for help is not lazy nor stupid. It is a proactive way to find your path again. Trying to do everything by yourself is just too stressful. I've been juggling too many balls lately and I even had a couple of panic attacks in the past few months. If I had opened my eyes I would have seen that everyone was behind me, supporting me.

Another problem is that I can be a perfectionist. I spend too much time on details that, in the end, do not matter. I follow recipes to the t. Even as a child I don't recall every coloring outside of the lines. I prefer things to be congruent, balanced, and even. Now, at twenty-four, I am seeing that I am setting up myself for failure. I've known for a long time that life is messy. That might be why I like to organize everything. It gives me a sense of control over my path. Like oil and water, my habits don't  mesh with Fate's plans for me. Yes, being organized is great. Yes, I am rarely late to anything. Is it worth the extra stress to be early with an ironed blouse, shaved legs, and just the right amount of jewelry? I thought so but my mind is changing. The world isn't going to stop if I'm a little late. I will survive if I change a recipe and it tastes awful. The science experiment might literally blow up in my face. Thinking back I realize that some of my favorite moments in life were spontaneous and done on a whim. I live in a comfortable house in a nice neighborhood thanks to a gut feeling. I've been to the Branch Davidian complex at midnight on Halloween just to scare myself. I learned how to build a picnic table with my boyfriend just because we wanted to build something. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I need to ignore my urge to plan everything and just go with the flow. I'll survive with my friends by my side.

-"Life is like the surf, so give yourself away like the sea." -Y Tu Mamá También