Moving to Texas to become a certified teacher, I first worked with mixed classes of kids from several nationalities, though the bilingual children with the lowest English levels were always placed with me. Then I moved down two grade levels to work 100% with bilingual kids, and I reassumed the title "Maestra" for the next 15 years. In English, to be called Teacher all the time might sound a bit disrespectful since I have an actual name, but in Spanish, I always considered it an honor to be called "Maestra" all day, every day. As a maestra, I taught more than just academics. I taught social skills, cross-cultural skills, and skills to speak two languages. But more than that, my bilingualism gave kids a sense of safety and refuge with me. Kids always felt safe when they walked into my room and knew they could speak in either language with me. They felt even safer when I happened to have traveled to their country or even their hometown, which occasionally happened. I loved being that mysterious teacher that didn't look like she should speak Spanish, but did. I also loved the look on the parents' faces that first day when they realized I spoke Spanish and they didn't have to struggle to communicate with me. I wore my title (Maestra) with pride, and it brought me joy.
Then I took a hiatus and spent the last two years working as a teacher in a Christian environment where I got to start each day with prayer and talk about Christ every chance I got within the day. I assumed that would fill me with just as much joy, but I always felt like something was missing. I taught the kids a lot of Spanish, made a lot of fun foods with them from other cultures and did a lot of virtual world-traveling. I even got to be close enough to the kids to just be Miss Rachelle instead of the formal Mrs. Alspaugh that I've always been. Occasionally I got called "Teacher" in the beginning of the year, but Miss Rachelle stuck pretty quickly.
This year I found an opportunity to jump back into working with bilingual kids, this time with a mix of kids who speak Spanish at home and kids who speak English as home. We had our open house two weeks ago, and my heart lit up when my first student walked into my room with her mom. Her mom walked in nervously, and I saw her eyes light up and all of her nervousness melt away when she realized she could speak to me in Spanish. That's when I knew I was right where I belonged. Now I teach about half my day in Spanish and half my day in English. I've assumed the title Maestra again, and it fills me with incredible joy. I love the way I've also bonded so quickly with the Hispanic students in the traditional classes, as they caught on quickly that they can talk to me in Spanish if they feel like it. When one of them called out to me out on the playground, "Maestra!", and continued his whole conversation with me in Spanish, it touched my heart in a deep way. That's when it hit me. Funny how I had to walk away from it for two years to realize what I am and was always supposed to be. Not an English teacher. Not a Leadership teacher. Not a Spanish teacher. Not really even a teacher. A maestra, and all that comes with that title.
