Chapter 10
The simple, rectangular cinder-block building held six classrooms for secondary students. Manny taught the twelve and thirteen-year-olds in a yellow-painted classroom whose large, open window faced a dirt road. The students’ artwork, mostly colored maps of Africa, hung on the walls. Students sat two-to-a-table in three neat rows, reading their Portuguese novels. The silence gave Manny a chance to glance over their writing assignments from this morning. At the top of the stack was one from Fernando, a thirteen-year-old boy with five younger siblings. The title read: “What I Want to Be When I Grow Up.”
When I grow up, I will be a teacher. I want to go to university, where I will study science, geography, math, Portuguese, and English. I will buy recordings of American music, so I can teach my students to sing in English. They will know Portuguese well enough to work as tour guides, and they will understand what is happening in other areas of the world and how lucky we are to live in peace in Cape Verde. After work, I will go home to my apartment with running water and a flushing toilet. My family will have enough money to eat fish and meat whenever they like.
Manny looked past the rows of students in their blue uniforms to where Fernando sat near the back. With his thick glasses and tall stature, he reminded Manny of a younger version of himself. As a boy, Manny had the same dream, to become a teacher. Now he had achieved that dream, complete with running water and a flushing toilet. The only thing missing was Celia. Manny picked up a piece of chalk at the edge of his desk and broke it in two. How could she have married someone else? Had their plans meant nothing to her?
He broke another piece of chalk and looked out at his pupils. Despite his disappointment with Celia, he still loved being a teacher, influencing young minds, and encouraging his pupils to aim high.
He looked again at Fernando’s essay. This was the boy’s last year of free public education, and Manny doubted his family could afford to pay his tuition next year. Manny could probably find a well-paying job for him. Most teachers wouldn’t have bothered to worry about their students’ economic situations, but getting Fernando a job would do more to help his education than anything Manny could teach in the classroom that year. Otherwise, like most Cape Verdean youth, Fernando would never go on to college. He would never achieve his dreams.
Manny was scribbling a note to himself about Fernando when he heard a whisper coming from the open window. “Manny. Psst.” It was his mother, waving an envelope and smiling wide enough to show all her front teeth.
Manny dropped his pen and rushed to the window. This sort of thing had never happened before.
“Sorry to interrupt your class, but they came. Our papers for America came. I couldn’t wait to tell you.”
It was happening sooner than he had expected! He took the envelope, unfolding the papers inside as she kissed his cheeks. The letter looked official with the American Embassy seal at the top. This was real.
“At least something good came from the volcano,” she whispered. “The embassy gave us first priority because of it. Can you believe how lucky we are? Flora will go to school in the United States!”
All this time, he had been preparing to go to America, but at the same time he hoped they wouldn’t get permission to go for another twenty years. He was finally a respected teacher, capable of keeping his students in order. He enjoyed the small gifts of food their mothers sent him, and he worried what would happen to the kids when they weren’t in school.
Now he would have to resign at the end of school year. Since it was unlikely he could ever teach in America, his first year of teaching had also been his last. He would have to go back to waiting tables, unless his English wasn’t even good enough for that.
But his mother was right. This would be good for Flora. Once she got there, she would see that American life wasn’t all about lying beside the pool. American school would teach her to work hard. He handed the papers back to his mother. “Going earlier will also give Flora a chance at going to college in the U.S.,” he said. “This is a good time.”
There was no question that he would go with them, considering he was the one who spoke English. His mother needed him, and she deserved his help after all she had sacrificed to send him to school.
Besides that, he loved America with its ideals of freedom, equality, and opportunities for all. It was the best place in the world for him to take his mother and sister.
“I am so happy,” his mother said, squeezing him so tight he could barely breathe. “All my grandchildren will be American citizens. Now get back to your teaching.” She gave him another kiss and hurried down the dirt road in the direction of the market.
Grandchildren—that was something he hadn’t considered. How would he ever find a woman to marry in America? What American woman would be interested in a guy who wanted to keep to the island ways—wearing his meager wardrobe, eating simple dishes like beans and rice, and singing folk songs? Of course, he didn’t know much about American women, just what he had seen on television or at the tourist resorts. They couldn’t all be so fixated on fashion and technology. Some of them had to enjoy just sitting on a park bench and chatting, or dancing to some old-fashioned tunes from his beloved islands.
He couldn’t help remembering one day when he and Celia had used tin cans to build a toy car for Flora. As he pictured the car rolling down the road, he could almost hear Celia’s laughter. Could he ever find someone else so full of joy?
Perhaps he was holding out for too perfect an ideal. Celia had been so young, after all. It was inevitable that he would have to change his expectations about women.
That wasn’t all he would have to change, either. In America, he would need a fashionable wardrobe, a smart phone, and a job working long hours.