Being an educator at an elementary school where the majority of the student body speaks English as a second language has been an unexpected healing balm. Two instances stood out to me in particular.

I instructed small groups, providing reading intervention. The kids were always excited to share something from their day. A student, B., confided that she had an extremely embarrassing experience that morning. Her mom had dropped B. off in front of the school and then called out in Spanish that she needed to use the bathroom. “Espera, espera!” she had yelled, running after B. Then an adult told her she couldn’t cross the gate threshold and sent her back. B. was embarrassed that her mom ran after her and was calling out that she needed to use the bathroom. What B. was not embarrassed about was her mom speaking in Spanish.

When B. was retelling this story, she spoke in English and seamlessly repeated what her mom said in Spanish (more than just “espera”). It didn’t seem to occur to her that someone in the group might not understand, including me. But we all did understand, as all of speak both English and Spanish. I admire and longed for the feeling of not being self-conscious. While that attribute is a hallmark for some kids, in addition, she didn’t have a filter preventing her from switching languages. I recall when my daughter said something about her “abuela” in 3rd grade, only to have a student respond, “we speak English here,” which made my daughter sad and confused. This student spoke a primary language other than English! Who had told her she couldn’t use her language? While I understand that the majority speak English in the US, I also lament the message that some pass along: you should ONLY speak English out and about. But back to my story: B. hadn’t been told that, or rather, she hadn’t needed to change the way she spoke. No one in the group batted an eye. It was normal and accepted. It reminds me of a confident person who is so confident, that “confidence” doesn’t even occur to them. I envy that.

My mom’s first language is Spanish. I grew up not speaking it but responded to her in English when she spoke to me in Spanish. As I grew older, her English usage outweighed her Spanish. But when she would tell me of a conversation she had with a family member, she would start in English, hesitate slightly when retelling the other person’s side of the story, and then tell me, in English, what they had said, even if it originally had been said in Spanish. I know she could have told me in Spanish, as I am fluent now, but I realize that at this point in her life, she has grown accustomed to translating. I understand the practicalities of that. But I also envy the opportunities my students have had to not translate and wonder if they know what a privilege that is.

The other instance that stood out to me was when a different student told a story and then got to a word she didn’t know the English translation for. I said it’s ok, just tell me in Spanish. After that, she didn’t hesitate to communicate this way and no one in the group noticed the switch in language. I again was jealous. I remember saying something in 6th grade that my friends didn’t know. When I realized that word was in Spanish, and none of my friends spoke Spanish, I was humiliated. I came home and asked my mom why she didn’t tell me. I can’t remember the exact conversation, but she still finds it humorous. I didn’t at the time. I was in 6th grade! That was horrifying! I wish upon wish I could have grown up in school where that was normal and expected. But in the moment of listening to my student, I felt like I had come full circle, and could listen and enjoy. That little torn piece of me had healed.

Because of my past experiences, I was hyper aware of helping my students read in English, as that was the purpose of my group, and occasionally point out a word in English that they hadn’t known, but always in the most respectful way that wouldn’t draw attention to any “mistake” they may have made. I feel that even though I was a little scarred in my embarrassment as a kid, it helped me be as encouraging and understanding as possible in the most natural way I could, and in that way, I’m also glad my students had that opportunity.

I do wish more of our students could have that natural feeling of being accepted for who they are. I hope that as more books come out that target students of different backgrounds and identities, and help other students understand, the more embraced we can all feel.

For anyone who is interested in purchasing my book, Tango Red Riding Hood, an exploration of languages, music, dance, and culture, it releases in September and you can order through Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Bookshop. It is illustrated by the magnificent Carolina Vázquez!