A Dream Called Home by Reyna Grande

Author:Reyna Grande
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atria Books

When they learned that I had some experience dancing folklórico, the Latino teachers asked me to volunteer after school to get the students ready to perform a few dances for the Cinco de Mayo event they were organizing.

Every day after school I went to the auditorium to teach the kids some of the dances I had learned at UCSC. Since the polkas from northern Mexico were what I knew best, they were what I taught the students. To my amazement, the kids actually listened to what I said. They worked hard at learning the steps and choreography. They didn’t argue, fight, or cause mayhem the way they did in my classroom. What was different? Finally, I realized that the kids who stayed after school were there because they wanted to be there and were interested in what they were learning, which perhaps they had never been in my class. Also, they knew that the minute they misbehaved, I could ask them to leave. I suddenly felt confident and capable as a teacher, something I hadn’t felt once since I had started teaching.

When the Cinco de Mayo celebrations were over, the kids having put on a great performance, I missed teaching dance. It turned out I wasn’t the only one who missed folklórico. Two weeks after the Cinco de Mayo performance, one of my dance students came into my classroom after school and said, “Ms. Grande, do you think you could start a folklórico group here at school? I mean, a permanent one.”

His name was Luis Felipe, and he was the kid who had been riding his skateboard in my classroom. When I made the announcement in class that I was looking for dancers for the Cinco de Mayo event, I had been surprised when he raised his hand. I was even more surprised that when the practice started he turned out to be my best dancer.

Now here he was, a thirteen-year-old boy, telling me he wanted to keep dancing.

I could see the enthusiasm in his eyes, and looking at him I knew what had happened to him was the same thing that had happened to me at Santa Cruz—he had discovered the exquisite beauty of the Mexican dance tradition, and he was proud.

Luis Felipe had been brought to the U.S. as a little boy. Like me, he was struggling with his identity as a child immigrant, finding a place to belong in America while at the same time holding on to his Mexican culture. Folklórico was his way to form a connection with Mexico so that he wouldn’t completely lose his right to claim it. Folklórico became the bridge that connected him to his native country. I understood that completely.

“All right,” I said. “But if I do start the group, will you help me recruit dancers?”

His face broke into a smile, the sweetest smile I had seen in my time at the middle school. “Yes,” he said. “Leave it to me!” He ran out of my room to follow through on his promise.

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