“Why do you talk funny?” a boy asked me after the teacher introduced me to my new fifth grade. The rest of the kids stopped talking and looked at me. They also wanted to know.
I looked around the schoolyard; students were busy playing or sharing food. I held tight to my lunch that included an alfajor, the dessert my mother gave me as encouragement for my first day in school. “I don’t know; maybe because my family came from Buenos Aires. I don’t have an accent when I speak Spanish.”
“You speak Spanish?” The boy said in awe. “Say something in Spanish!” He chuckled.
“Like what?” My eyes sparkled, my back straightened, and I felt like a visiting agent from a different planet.
“Say, Johnny is an idiot.” A girl sputtered and laughed, blushing. The boy who was talking to me, probably Johnny, blushed too. Maybe they had a thing for each other.
“No, no,” Johny pushed the kids around him since the circle around me grew tighter. “Say hello in your language.”
“Hola,” I said, “Encantada, nice to meet you.”
“Encantada, too,” said Johnny, and shook my hand vigorously.
“No, no, ‘encantada’ is for girls. “You’d say – Encantado.”
The girl who liked Johnny made her way next to me, extended her hand, and said, “Hola, encantada. I’m Betty.”
I extended my hand and thanked Betty while not letting go of my alfajor and my lunch on the other hand. “Hola, Encantada. I’m Vivi.” We both giggled.
Johnny grabbed my hand and said, “Encantado. I’m Johnny.”
One by one, the kids shook my hand and introduced themselves. T
“Hola, I’m Sue, encantada.”
“Hola, I’m Rick, encantado.”
I kept shaking their hands and laughing with relief. I didn’t remember any of the names but Johnny’s and Betty, but it was ok. My funny accent was not a problem anymore.
I spotted a sunny spot near the fence and took my lunch there. I still had a few moments before the end of the break, and all that activity made me yearn for the alfajor after my mom prepared the avocado sandwich.
“Your new friends helped you,” I heard my mother say in my heart. “They reached out to you and included you. I’m glad. Remember, focusing on your love for your friends is more important than being anxious about their love for you.”
I was lucky to have a mother who gave me good advice. Her voice guided me even when she was away. It was not the first time she advised me to concentrate on my attitude toward others. It made sense. I can adjust only my perspective, not others.
I saw Betty reaching my sunny spot and grinned. Her spiky blue hair was in contrast to the freckles on her face. Her purple t-shirt announced “Why Not?” in bold letters. Why not, indeed, I thought, whatever it was.
“Hola,” she said.
“Hola,” I moved to make room for her in the sunniest spot.
“What’s in your sandwich?” She pushed her buttony nose to my lunch.
“Avocado and red pepper on sourdough bread. Want some?” I asked and offered her half. She examined the sandwich suspiciously.
“All I get is peanut butter and jelly.” She shrugged, “Do you want half of mine?”
Peanut butter and jelly were not my favorites, especially when my alfajor awaited me. Still, it would be more fun to share everything. We exchanged half sandwiches and started chewing them with gusto. The peanut butter was better than I expected; it had chunks of peanuts, and the jelly made it easier to swallow. It was good.
“Hmm… I like your avocado sandwich. It feels so healthy!” Betty said with a mouthful.
“Yeah, my mom spends much time preparing our meals and snacks. She thinks it’s important to eat nutritious food, which makes sense; after all, food builds our body.” I said, contemplating what part of my body the alfajor would be.
“Hmmm, I like your sandwich; never used avocado this way before,” she said with a mouthful,
“And I like yours. I’ll ask my mom to make me a peanut butter sandwich occasionally. After all, peanut butter is an excellent source of protein!” I replied, wiping the jelly off my fingers.
Betty looked at me wide-eyed, “What do you mean? All I know about food is that I like some things and some I don’t.” We giggled.
I said, “You need protein to build new cells in your body and repair the old ones. It’s pretty useful. Do you eat meat? That’s full of protein.”
“No, I don’t,” said Betty, “I hate the idea of killing an animal for my consumption. After all, there is no lack of food otherwise. Did you ever see how chickens or cows get raised to turn into cutlets and steak? I find it disturbing.”
“You’re right,” I said, thinking about the chicken in those little cages. “With all the healthy things my mother taught me, I never considered becoming vegetarian. I love meat. In Argentina, people eat steak like you eat burgers here. By the way, another typical Argentinian delight is the Alfajor. I have one. Would you like to share it with me?” I said, forgetting how much I craved Alfajores.
“Sure, what does it taste like?”
“Like heaven,” I sighed and cut the alfajor in the middle, letting the Dulce de Leche sip on my fingers. The two delicate, melt-in-your-mouth cookies embraced the luscious dollop of creamy dulce de leche caramel, which was gone too soon.
“Oh, my God, Vivi! This is incredible,” stated Betty, looking at me as if I performed some magic. I felt happy to introduce her to my favorite taste.
We heard the school bell announcing the end of the break and ran inside holding hands—nothing like food to make friends grow closer.
“Come, sit next to me, Vivi. I left room for you even before the alfajor.”
“You’ve got a new friend.” The teacher smiled at both of us as the Arithmetic lesson started. I glanced at Johnny, who looked keen for the dreaded Arithmetics. My numbers never added right. Betty’s notebook looked all smudged with corrections – we both needed help.
“Hey, Betty,” I whispered, “why don’t we ask Johnny to help us with this monster of math? He seems to enjoy it.”
“That’s a grand idea!” Her breath quickened, “I’ve always liked him but didn’t know how to approach him. Let’s ask him after class!”
The teacher questioned, “Who got the answer for how long it takes you to get to school, and how to translate it to seconds?”
Johnny’s hand shot up together with a dozen others. Betty and I shrugged sadly. A tall girl with thick glasses responded, “It takes me eight minutes when my father takes me 480 seconds. When my mother does, it’s fifteen minutes because she drops my brother first in his kindergarten. Then it’s 960 seconds.”
“Well said, Cindy. Who can give a different answer?”
I saw Johnny waving his hands as if he were drowning.
“Yes, Johnny, I see you. What is your answer?” The teacher asked in a soothing voice.
“I walk to school, teacher. It takes me forty-five minutes. That is two thousand seven hundred minutes.”
I was getting the drift. All I had to do was multiply my minutes by sixty. I could do it. I raised my hand hesitantly.
“Yes, Vivi?” The teacher asked. I heard my heart pumping, but I paid no attention.
“I come by bus, teacher. It takes me about thirty minutes which is one hundred eighty seconds.” I heard the kids laughing, and I cursed myself for trying.
“That was a good try, Vivi, but I think you forgot one zero in your multiplication. It’s a common mistake. Don’t worry; you’ll get it quickly with determination and courage.” The teacher smiled with encouragement.
Johnny turned his head back and said, “I’ll help you.”
“Thanks,” I smiled and was glad for my mistake. Now, there was something specific we could work on.
“Betty, you’ll get his help, too, right?” I winked at her, and she threw her hands around me.
“You’re a true friend.” she beamed.
If I wanted to make it at school, I had to pay attention to what the class was about, especially if it was something incomprehensible as math.
“Betty,” I implored, “Let’s pay attention to what the teacher says.”
Betty withdrew instantly as if I slapped her. “Sorry,” she blushed, and her tears started rushing down.
I didn’t know what to do. Betty was my only friend, but I’d only learn the lesson if I concentrated.
“Betty, please,” I implored anxiously.
“Don’t worry,” and she glared, seeing nothing.
I had to choose my battles. This time I decided to learn math over making amends with my only friend. I wanted to know if I did it right. Mom came to my aid, as always. I heard her say,’ Don’t worry about Betty. She’ll come around. Now, say sorry and turn your attention to the teacher.’
“Sorry, Betty,” I whispered and smiled apologetically.
“We are learning reasoning questions,” I heard the teacher say. “You may not need to know about rectangular prisms when you graduate, but using your reason will always be handy. What is the volume of this rectangular prism?”
This time Johnny’s hand was shooting to the stars, and the teacher acknowledged it.
“You multiply four by three by four. The volume is forty-eight inches.”
“Excellent! And how this computation be relevant to you?”
“My father wants to get me an aquarium, but I don’t know if it would fit in my basement room. By calculating the aquarium volume, I could know if there is space for it before my father hires someone to bring it home.” The tall girl with glasses sounded confident.
“Right,” The teacher commented, “What we study is an example to use in your life. If you don’t find use to it now, it may help you in the future. It’s a tool for life.”
Betty was still not looking at me, but now that I knew how to calculate volumes, I could attend to my friend.
“Hey,” I nudged her and smiled, “I’m sorry I cut you short; my fault. I got overwhelmed between my friend and the school material. Maybe I didn’t make the best choice. Can you forgive me?”
Betty turned and smiled, “I know how it feels. I get overwhelmed all the time.” We both chuckled. “Only yesterday…” I didn’t hear the end of that statement.
“Betty, Vivi,” the teacher said curtly, “please stop your conversation and pay attention to the lesson. Math is not your strong suit – either of you.”
“Many people have difficulty understanding math,” Johnny told the teacher. “Once Betty and Vivi get the basics, it will be easier for them to concentrate.” The class was dead silent.
“Would you be interested in helping them? I’ll give you extra credits.” The teacher said,
“I won’t do it for credit, “Johnny shook his head, “I’ll be happy to help them.”
“Great,” said the teacher, “Get together after class and see how you can proceed. You are a good friend, Johnny. Class, let’s continue with the following problem.”
The tall girl with glasses raised her hand, “Yes, Emily?” The teacher asked.
“Johnny is not the only one who can help those struggling to understand math. I can also offer assistance to whoever needs it.”
“That’s a great idea, Emily,” The teacher said, “You know what, forget about the next problem. Pull your desks in teams of four. Find the one who understands best among you and let them explain the problem to the rest of the group. Start now!”
Desks moved around, and havoc took place for a short while, but then we were all busy exploring and learning what was difficult for some and easy for others.
The teacher moved from group to group, and the whole vibe of the class changed from mild boredom to high excitement.
Johnny was the leader of our little group, and he said with enthusiasm, “The problem is how to calculate the volume of any object.”
I said shyly, “Johnny, I don’t know what volume means.”
“That’s a good question, Vivi. Volume is the space that any object occupies – including you! We multiply the object’s length by width and height to measure it.”
“How can you find my length and width, Johnny? I’m round! Please clarify this for me.
“You’re right, Vivi. To find your volume, we’d submerge you in a tub full of water, and the quantity of water that would be spilled off the tub is your volume. Does it make sense?” He asked, searching for a response.
Betty suggested experimenting with a glass of water she was holding and a little pebble in her hand. We placed the stone, and the level of water was raised. “That’s it,” Betty exclaimed, “The difference in the level of the water, that’s the volume of the pebble.” We nodded firmly.
The teacher reached our table and sighed proudly, “This is not math anymore, but Physics. It will show you how things work in general. Well done!”
We were so engrossed in the new learning that we stayed during the break to test different objects and their volume. Math became real, and so did our friendship. We got closer and appreciated each other.
‘Why don’t you invite your new friends home.’ My mother suggested it in my heart. ‘You can study together, and I’ll prepare you something to eat.’
“Hey guys,” I suggested on the way out. “Call your parents, and ask them if it’s ok for you to come and study in my place. My mom will take you home.”
“Sorry, Vivi, maybe another time,” Betty said, “I have to help my mom with the new baby. I just got a brother, and it’s lots of fun, even though he keeps all of us awake at odd times.” I felt sudden jealousy and forced a smile. “Good for you. Maybe, I could visit you sometime.”
“I’d also like to come,” mumbled Johnny to his shoes, “but visiting Vivi today is tempting. My parents come home late from work, and I’m alone. I’ll call my pa for permission.”
“You know what,” Betty rushed in her words, “I changed my mind. I’ll also ask my mother if I could visit Vivi. After all, we’ll be learning math, right?” She winked at us.
After making all the necessary arrangements, we took the bus home. I was going to show them my room. I hoped they’d like it and Johnny would help us understand the trickery of math. Most of all, I was grateful for my new friends. They seemed cool.
“Hey, Vivi, come sit in the middle,” They yelled at me from behind the bus. I rushed, not accustomed to such affection from peers. My grin was so wide it hurt, but I didn’t mind. I felt in heaven.
“Do you like pizza?” I asked, “Monday is pizza night, and my mom makes it from scratch.”
“Oh, My God,” Johnny sighed, “Pizza is my favorite. Can I have anchovy as a topping?”
“And I want it with much cheese,” Betty said.
Time to call Mom. “Mami, I have two friends coming for dinner, and they are very particular about what pizza they eat.”
I heard my mom laugh. “It’s not a problem, querida. I’ll make it once you are here, so they’ll get their pick. ok?”
“You’re the best,” I whispered. I was so glad. Everything was coming together like magic.
Six stops later, we skipped off the bus and rushed home. I ran to hug my mom and got flour on my school jacket. “Be careful, mi amor,” she said, smiling at the two examining our kitchen.
It had red brick color walls and a big window facing our backyard. The kitchen utensils hung from the ceiling around the concrete table across the stove. Mom grinned at us, with two pizzas waiting for their topping.
“Hi, Vivi’s mom, I’m Johnny, encantado.” Johnny practiced his Spanish vocabulary.
“And I’m Betty, encantada.” Betty joined the chat.
My mom couldn’t help herself but laugh. “Hija,” she smiled, “I see you were busy teaching your friends some basic Spanish. But it’s your turn to educate me and tell me what you’d like as a topping.”
I had to butt in, “Jonny wants anchovies, and Betty prefers much cheese.”
“Coming right up. Why don’t you take your friends to your room, and I’ll bring the Pizza with refreshments when it’s ready.”
I hugged my mom. This time, I made sure there was no flour on my clothes. “Come, kids,” I said and rushed up the stairs.
I put my shoes on the rack and went in. Betty and Johnny shrugged and did the same. Once they were in, they scanned my room silently.
“What is this?” Johnny picked up the ram horn next to my father’s picture.
“That’s a Shofar,” I said, “We blow it on High Holidays.”
“Can I try?” He asked.
“Sure, it’s not that easy. I had to train for months, and still, I don’t do it like my father did.”
Betty shifted her glance from my father’s portrait to me, “What happened to him?”
“He died in a car accident three years ago,” I whispered as tears started swelling in my eyes every time I recalled his name.
“I’m sorry,” They both said in tandem and stayed silent for a while. I felt awkward. That’s not right! My friends were in my room for the first time, and I wept like a baby.
“Sorry, everyone, I can’t help it but don’t worry about me. Let me give you a grand tour of my little room. The poem “If” by Kipling is on the wall before you. It inspires me every morning as I wake up. I feel energized by it.
On your right is a shelf with the few books I brought from Argentina – Harry Potter, El Princesito, Wonder, and Charlie y la Fabrica de Chocolate. I couldn’t leave them behind.”
“Wow,” exclaimed Betty, “I have the same books in English! How rare is that!”
“I only have Harry Potter,” mumbled Johnny, “I prefer Science Fiction,”
“That’s ok,” I said, “I’d love to expand the themes I read. Do you have a favorite?”
“I couldn’t choose between ‘Stranger in a Strange Land’ and ‘The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.’ They’re both excellent and completely different.”
“I read Stranger in a Strange Land. It changed my thinking about many things,” said Betty. “Especially the first part. It opened my eyes to the fact that things go on behind the scenes in government and religion. Flag-waving patriotism and holiness of our so-called leaders. It will help if you read it. I’m sure it’s in the library.”
“The school has a library?”
“No, silly, I meant the New York Public Library. I’ll take you there tomorrow. It’s within walking distance from the school. If you want, of course.”
“Of course, I want. Thanks!”
“Are you ready for the pizza?” I smiled. My mom’s accent rolled the r’s like raindrops on the window pane beside my bed.
“You betcha!” Exclaimed Johnny, “And I can see lots of anchovies, awesome!”
“And mine is covered with a thick layer of cheese,” said Betty, “What are you having, Vivi?”
“I’ll have some of each. I love my mom’s Pizza. Let’s eat!”
We sat crossed legs on the thick carpet and dug in. It felt so natural. It was so fun to have friends in my room. I knew little about them, but they felt familiar.
“What about math?” asked Betty, mouth full.
“I think better after Pizza,” said Johnny seriously.
We nodded in agreement. We all thought better after Pizza.
I brought the empty dishes to my mom and returned to attack our math problems. Johnny was a master teacher. With his assistance, vague concepts became tangible, and I started to like this math thing.
An hour passed too fast, but my friends had to go home, and my mom gave them a ride as promised.
“See you tomorrow,” I waved and threw a kiss at Betty after dropping off Johnny in front of a big apartment building across the waterfront.
The school will be better than I predicted.
My mother touched my arm affectionately.
“You see, Vivi, everything comes together right when we focus on what is good for the people around us and us.”
I recalled the day’s events – splitting my alfajor with Betty at lunch and teaching some basic Spanish to my classmates during the break.
“You’re right, mama. Could you give me three alfajores for school tomorrow? When I connect with the needs of my friends, it’s easier for them to respond in kind. Betty loved the alfajor I shared with her today.”
“You shared your alfajor?” My mom faked astonishment, and we both chuckled.
“I couldn’t help it,” I said, “Alfajores are the best, but watching Betty taste them is even better.”
“I’ll have to order more alfajores than I expected. I’ll be glad to do it.”
We silently enjoyed the songs of Mercedes Sosa on the way home. We saw her in person once. She was short and stout, but her vibrating sound moved the crowd in the theatre who bought tickets months in advance. I thought I’d share “Gracias a la Vida” with Betty and Johnny, a song about gratitude for our life.
As we got home, I got a call from Betty, “Thank your mom for the Pizza. Your room is so different from mine. Maybe we could do homework in my room next time.”
“Can you show me your room on the phone?” I asked,
“Too messy,” she replied instantly.
“I don’t mind messy,”
“I do. Ok. I have to tend to Stu. His name is Stewart, but he’s too little for such a name, so we call him Stu.”
“That’s a terrible name for a kid. They will call him Beef Stew in school.”
“I told my mom, but she wanted to name him after my father. Can’t help it.”
“I see. When Stu goes to school, you’ll protect him.”
“You betcha. I count on you too.”
I didn’t know what to say. I just met Betty, and I was nominated to be her brother’s bodyguard, and I never even met the guy. That was weird, but I liked it. I felt important.
“Betty, maybe we should start learning some fighting techniques, like Karate?” I laughed, but she didn’t think it was funny.
“I agree. I’ll look up courses in our area. See you tomorrow.”
Once I disconnected, I imagined us in twin uniforms, growing bulky biceps, army camouflage, and dark glasses. We had to have dark glasses. I have seen it in all the movies. We covered for little Stue, making him feel safe by terrorizing everybody else. There was much space around us. Stu was safe but alone. Maybe bodyguards weren’t the answer.
My mom joined me and said as if continuing a conversation.
“Being small can be an advantage in the right environment. Stue could climb on top of everybody else on a manufactured pyramid or sneak among the bars and open the gate for everyone else to enter a secret garden.”
I got the drift and smiled in relief; yes, that sounded better than intimidating his classmates.
“He could also excel in math or be funny, so kids would like to be around him. We’ll teach him some social skills, but first, we must learn them ourselves. Oh, Mom, you inspire me.” I jumped and hugged her. “I bet you have lots of social skills. I need them now. I feel so lonely.”
“Don’t worry, hija,” my mom patted my back, “I’m here for you, and your warmth and wit will help you through.” She kissed my head and returned to the kitchen, where she felt most at home.
I looked around my room for solace, and Kipling’s poem, “If,” reverberated in my memory. I read it aloud, as I did whenever I got lost in my heart and needed a compass.
“If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
…
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!”
Yes, I thought, I have big dreams. I want to be part of this new school. I like Betty to be proud to be my friend and Johnny to come often and eat Pizza after teaching me math. And I want my father to be proud of his little girl for joining this new community.
My eyes touched my father’s picture, and my heart ached. He used to be the most competent man alive. If he were alive, I wouldn’t need Johnny to teach me. My father would have taught me everything I needed to know. Then, I remembered how strict he used to be. He gave me a hard time when I brought home a letter from my first-grade teacher asking him to spend more time with me on my homework.
He said, “My daughter doesn’t know Buenos Aires is the capital of Argentine. Stop reading those picture books and pay more attention to facts!” His words carved my heart, and, for the longest time, I didn’t touch a picture book. I only read what he prescribed for me – dictionaries and history books. At least, that’s what he thought.
My mom fought for my right to be a child, but he was the one I craved to make him happy.
My mom was the one who bought me El Princesito, Harry Potter, and the other books Betty and Johnny saw on my shelf. Those books became my dearest friends. The fox in El Princesito was always there to give me advice.
Only the other day, on my way to buy some groceries, I saw a pit bull next to his master, who was texting. The pit bull looked at me, all humble and lost, as if asking, ‘Why am I here? What am I doing with this man who is holding my leash?’
I wanted to tell the pit bull to come home with me. I’ll play with you and be your friend, just like the fox became the best friend of El Princesito, but the fox asked me not to do anything weird. ‘Keep on walking,’ he said. ‘You can’t change anybody’s world but yours.”
While walking to the grocery store, I argued with the fox that the pit bull looked so sad; how could I not help him?
The fox said, if you try to help the dog, you’ll get in trouble, and your mother needs the flour and tomato sauce for the Pizza she was preparing.
It was sad, but the fox was right, and I thanked him. My mother said we couldn’t have a dog because neither was home during the day. I agreed with her.
I only understood some of the stories with dogs. In one of the books my father bought me, I read that the dogs adopted us historically because we were nomads. We left all those yummy leftovers behind, and they lived on them. Later, we tamed them to be our pets and dependent on us for all their needs. We tell them when to poop and where, put a nuzzle in their nose, lead them by the leash, and say that dogs are happy creatures. I would never want to be a dog; I’d better be a free cockroach than a captive pit bull.
I fell asleep dreaming of becoming the dog liberator. I walked from town to town, urging the dogs to leave their masters and rejoin the wolves who volunteered to remind them of their ancestors. Each wolf is paired with a dog, teaching him how to hunt and get into the chicken coops. Before long, people added dogs to the list of pests. It became a nightmare, and I woke up begging the dogs to return to their masters, but it was too late. The dogs enjoyed their freedom. A war opened between dogs and men. It was a mess; it was all my fault for becoming a dog liberator. Nobody asked me to do it. I was short-sighted, starting a movement, not imagining the catastrophic consequences. I meant well. I wanted the dogs to be free, but now they didn’t remember their gratitude for their masters for feeding them and taking them for walks. They were enraged for being enslaved for so many generations.
The wolves were there to remind them what it was to be free. I woke up sweating, swearing that I’d never ask my mom for a dog. It was too complicated.
I was relieved to see my mom smiling at me, preparing my clothes for school tomorrow.
“What is it, hija?” she asked, caressing my forehead, “did you have a bad dream?”
I sat up and hugged her tightly, “Mom, promise never to get me a dog. I don’t want to participate in enslaving creatures for my needs.” I shared my dream with her, and she nodded in understanding.
“You are right, Vivi. I never thought of it that way. A new idea is a gift to those who hear it. Bring it to your teacher and create a project for your class or the whole school. It could shift their thinking into focusing on others and their needs. Good night, my love. See you in the morning.”
Life was good. I recalled all the amazing things that happened today: Meeting Betty and Johnny, sharing my alfajor with Betty, inviting my friends home for Pizza and homework.
Tomorrow I’ll share my idea about liberating the dogs with my teacher and see what she says. I don’t know about her. She doesn’t seem adventurous.