The Immigrants

She parted her lips slightly and said,"-ing," then more nasally, "-ing." Gioi imitated her perfectly. "Now," she said, "try 'sing-ing.'" He smiled. His pronunciation was perfect. Of course the l's and r's were difficult, "girl," and "world" almost impossible. She wished everyone were as eager to learn as much and as quickly as he. In fact, she sometimes paired him with a laggard when it was feasible. He surpassed pronunciation within a few weeks and ate up any vocabulary instruction she could give. She never had to assign homework to him. With God's grace, Gioi accelerated and became the school's star pupil and won all academic awards at graduation. His greatest struggle was choosing his field of study. Very talented in art, Miss Heidig thought it a shame if he didn't continue in that field. Yet she knew the choice had to be his. So the day he told her he'd chosen medicine she wasn’t surprised. "Gioi, you can always pursue art. Many doctors use it as a relaxing hobby." "I know," he smiled. "But medicine means more money." "That's important. I'm just so glad you made your decision.” --- Valeria was one of the most beautiful of her Spanish-speaking students. She'd come from Bogota that summer, was put into fifth grade, even though she knew virtually no English. "I've got my work cut out for me with that one," Celie said in the faculty room at lunch. "She seems bright enough, but her parents speak little English at home at this point, and math seems to be her forte.” "Uno, dos, tres, cuarto, cinquo, sechs, sieto, ocho, nueva, dias. Right?" "No," said Valeria. "It's 'see-EH-ta,' not 'see-AY-to.'" It was easy for Celie to link English with math. They began counting in both languages, engaging tactile and kinesthetic senses by counting on their fingers. Spanish-speaking children were so attractive with their black hair and eyes, olive skin. Valeria had the olive skin but green-blue eyes and brown hair, a legacy of her American father. He apparently was some kind of contractor in Bogota till the drug wars drove the family out. Celie worried about her student's sexiness, even though she was only in fifth grade. It wasn't too early to think of the trouble children that age could get into. When she had an MRI for her shoulder and noticed the Spanish word for pregnant on a poster, embarazada, asked Valeria if she knew that word. She smiled demurely. "You know?" Celie asked. "Um. A baby," Valeria answered. "Yes, to have a baby," Celie added. --- Valeria was taller than most of the others. Her cousin Anthony from the Dominican Republic was a year older, but the same height. Celie noticed an attraction between them when they came to her class together. The way Anthony looked at Valeria, Celie knew he found her attractive, her breasts blooming, grace in her step. And she had a way of tossing her long hair over her shoulder--did she have any idea how seductive she was becoming? Anthony himself already exuded animal magnetism. He probably had no idea he did this. He certainly was aware of hormones raging, but he seemed to keep things in quiet control, unlike his male peers. Yet one day, he took one of Valeria's drawings. He just held it, but it enraged her, and she grabbed one of his homework papers, scribbled all over it, and started to tear it up when Celie intervened. "What is it with you two? Do you want to go to Mr. Halleran's office?" Anthony looked to the floor. Valeria's eyes flashed. She was not one bit chastened. "Do you, Valeria?" Valeria picked up her books and stormed out of the room. Celie looked helplessly at Anthony. "I don't know, Miss Heidig," he said sympathetically.