What Mexican students don't complain about

My American students can be real whiners. If the temperature crested 70 in the classroom, half the class would complain about the incredible heat, stating that it was impossible to work in that environment or they would sleep because they had no control over themselves in such extreme conditions.

The environment at my TJ high school can be a little harsh. With sweat dripping down my face, I tried a few times to make small talk with the students, "Whew, hace calor", etc. Their faces told me "Quit your bitchin' woman and teach". None of my students have asked me "Are we doing anything today?" as if we generally sat around filing each other's toenails in class, or the dreaded "Can we just do nothing today?". Nor have the told me "This is boring" or asked "Do we have to do this?". For some reason, this sort of commentary is off the table.

There was a big meeting one evening at the end of the street in our privada. We were surprised to learn that we had to pay the privada boss various amounts of money for maintenance, including lights that have never been turned on and plants that aren't watered. Before I could ask any questions, the conversation quickly turned to the behavior of the children on our street. After one parent fielded a complaint about her kids, she proclaimed "If you show them a lack of respect, they will show you a lack of respect". I recognized her little ray of sunshine from the day he repeatedly screamed "¡TONTO! ¡TONTO! ¡TONTO!" at us while we dragged the new trashcan we had bought down the street. Or maybe from the day we returned to our house from D.C. and found about ten kids inside our walled compound screaming and playing, while hers demonically rode what we thought was our secure, gated wall like it was a horse in a rodeo. Might have been him.

Most of the privada kids are actually pretty sweet. There is this big kid that I am guessing looks older than he is that always greets me and Alec in the street. Lately, he has even started trying out English phrases. And then there is little Jessica. She stared at me for about a week and slowly started asking questions. Then, she wanted to see the multitude of plants we bought to make our carless driveway look garden like. After viewing the plants, she started requesting to see the inside of the house. Alec wasn't so keen on the idea. "If she comes in, I am going outside. I am not going to be the American pervert on the street". I finally let her in. She took a quick look around, looked vaguely disappointed by our second hand furniture and left. The last time I saw her, I asked her how kinder was going. "I didn't cry today" she told me. No, neither did I.

There are things Mexican teachers don't discuss either. Like school. They have an "on" switch and a big off switch. In the U.S., our lunches were dominated by talk of bad behavior, certain, dreaded students whom we all knew by name and at times, tales of glorious lessons and activities by glowing teachers that would leave the rest of us annoyed. Here, during our break, teachers talk about their families, about the weekend, about politics. No one discusses the students. Nor do they tell of the awesome lesson they just conducted. Sometimes they rant about the chingada adminstración. The sala de maestros is our sanctuary, our bosses don´t enter. Once, when pressed, a teacher friend of mine decided to tell me of his tardy policy, having heard that I still struggle with tardy students. Hell, I still carry my schedule around and a map of the school so that I know where to go every hour. "I charge them" he told me. What? Do explain. "Five pesos" he stated. "They have to pay if they want to get in late. Or if they didn't do their homework". He continued. "Profe Maria charges forty. People are starting to get mad about that". Things certainly are different here.