Epiphany

As I walked past the giant police station practicing my America's Next Top Model walk, I heard a little "beep beep" and I waved furiously at Profe Julio as he drove past me in his car. The last day of school is always so happy, festive. I believe Julio's car was probably directed straight for Sinoloa; none of the teachers could wait to get out of Tijuana and get home to their pueblos.

Returning was a little tricky. I crossed the border in the middle of the night with large groups of Mexicans dragging luggage just like I was. I was a little unclear on when I actually had to go back to school. The calendar said the 4th, but I had heard a few murmurs about the 6th at the school's Christmas party. The morning of the 4th I woke up feeling a little down. I unpacked the loads of supplies I brought from Atlanta to get me through until July, weird stuff: printer ink, English novels, vitamins, winter clothes. Stuff that is either expensive, unfindable or things I simply did not want to buy again upon return to Tijuana. I knew I really should get ready to go to school. I opened the blinds and squinted my eyes in an attempt to see the parking lot of the school. It looked pretty empty. To double check, I trained the zoom of my camera on the parking lot like binoculars and decided I did not need to take a shower.

In the early days, I would have walked to school to check it out, see if anyone was there. Sometime in November, I changed my system and simply walked out to the street, saw no cars in the school parking lot and decided I wasn't going to bother to walk up there. Monday, I relied on the mile and half wide view from my bedroom window. The hills that circle Tijuana had undergone a remarkable change in the past two weeks. The pale, Return of the Jedi Mars-scape had been replaced by a dark moss fuzz. I felt compelled to open the window and felt a warm, spring like breeze that immediately made me feel optimistic and content about being in Tijuana.

I continued my new system on Tuesday and decided school had not yet started. On Wednesday, I could see the reflection of the sun from windshields in the school's parking lot. I really didn't know what I was walking into. There are classes between semesters for the kids that failed, yet another last ditch effort to make them pass. I failed about seventy kids and as I walked to the school, I had no idea if I would have to teach that day or just sit around in meetings. It was a little unsettling, as I had no plans or materials prepared. I scanned the streets, looking for students walking to school. I was relieved to see empty classrooms when I arrived. And then came my next question...exactly what were we supposed to do? It became apparent that we would sit around and talk about our holidays for about an hour and a half and then attend a meeting. Comparisons swirled around the room of how many hours each profe had spent in the bus to arrive home. Of how fantastic the food is in the town that they come from. Of how many months until spring break.

Our meeting was relatively informative and ended with a large multicolored cake that we ate to celebrate Día de los Reyes. Everyone found it quite amusing when I encountered a small, plastic, naked boy in my piece of cake. Yes, I will be preparing tamales for the staff on February 2nd, which also happens to be my birthday. As I am American, I hope they will be satisfied with pizza or McDonald's, as everyone knows that is all that we eat.

Profe Roberto told me that the naked boy is good luck. That I should dress him when I get home in order to ensure this luck. I pondered how to dress this half inch naked thing with a rather pinched and demonic look on his face. I am considering using one of those small, useless band aids that appears in every purchased box, only to hang around the medicine cabinet for years. I really feel like I need the luck.