CHAPTER ONE

I first encountered Enrique Lopez in December of 1999.  I was on my way to a bodega a few blocks away from the elementary school where I taught third grade.  The air was crisp with winter’s cold and I hummed a tune softly to myself as I walked along the main thoroughfare of the town.

Feeling the spirit of the approaching holidays, I reached into my pocket and gave a few dollars to a homeless man. He was slowly making his way along the busy avenue with a shopping cart filled with dented cans and the few precious treasures he could call his own.  He tipped his ragged cap at me in gratitude while flashing a crooked smile.

Back at the school, my students were busily preparing for our holiday party with my teacher’s aide Mrs. Craig while I dashed off on my lunch break to buy some tropical fruit for the much awaited festivities that would take place in the afternoon.

The giggles and excited eyes of the children were a delight to me these past days. They made decorations out of construction paper and hung them around the room and whispered among themselves of their expectations for the days ahead.  They held in their small hearts the spirit of happiness that youth seems to embrace so easily. I was privileged to be able to share in their enthusiasm.

I taught in a large district out on Long Island in New York.  Through the years the town has become a haven for immigrants from South and Central America, many of them here in this country--illegally.

Many of the students were learning to speak English as well as mastering their other subjects.  It was a difficult task for both teacher and student, but I enjoyed the challenge of teaching them with the hope that they would become productive adults in a complicated world.