Primer grado terminó en un abrir y cerrar de ojos… Time really does fly when you are having fun.

Once I got to second grade, my accent began saying farewell. I was tested for GT (Gifted & Talented) and found to be at an 8th grade reading level… Nonetheless, I still forgot certain words while I was speaking in English. My second grade teacher was very different from Mrs. King. Mrs. King was regular height for a woman, plump, blond, curly hair - very sweet. She spoke softly and her smile was like the sun peaking through the clouds: welcoming. Era como una tía o una abuela joven. Now I don’t want you to think that Mr. Henn was frightening…nothing like that.

Mr. Henn was tall, maybe 6’2” or 6’3”; he was husky but not fat. The man spoke with a very authoritative voice. It seemed to me like he might have been in the Army once—my dad was in the Army and that’s how he sounded all the time—but then again, maybe that was just his personality. And one other physical difference: Mr. Henn was balding.

Since I was beginning to wet my feet in the Olympic-sized pool of bilingualism, the “clogged words” seemed to be happening more often when I was deep into a conversation…like the very embarrassing one I had that particular morning.

Mr. Henn was welcoming us at the door and pointing to the days’ first assignment on the table: 2 worksheets. I skipped in, little pigtails bouncing. Lo primero que siempre nos decía era «pongan sus nombres en el papel‚». The man knew that most of us would start working and forget to put our names on our papers. 

“Did everyone remember their baby pictures?” Mr. Henn asked. Big, friendly grin on his face, eyebrows up and eyes wide. “I don’t have a baby picture, but I do have an old license – me about 10 years ago.”

Mr. Henn passed around his expired license. Some kids looked at it longer than others. I was excited to see how Mr. Henn had changed. Once I saw the picture, the commentator within me felt the urge to say something…¿por qué no te quedaste callada un poco más de tiempo, Alejlu? así hubieras tenido tiempo de pensar bien en tus palabras…but what I wanted to say, didn’t come out that way.

“Look!” I smiled, as I held up the license. “Mr. Henn looks so handsome and young. He even had…”I paused. Hay…¿qué es la palabra?…Dios mio, ¿qué es la palabra? What is the word? The word for “cabeza” was just not coming to me! I was blank. What is that word?

“He even had…he even had…” I pointed to my head. “He even had hair on his thing.”

Finally, I thought I had said what I wanted to say…but also suddenly, there was a wave of laughter a giggling from behalf of all the students. Mr. Henn was blushing. I was confused. I had no clue what everyone was laughing at. A couple of kids mockingly repeated what I had said; and it was not until another student—who spoke both languages fluently—explained to me-in Spanish-what I had actually communicated: I felt mortified.

TRAGAME TIERRA…habrete y tragame. I longed for the floor to open up beneath me…or maybe some magic pixie dust to make me invisible.

That’s not what I wanted to say!!! Not at all!!!

Mr. Henn’s embarrassment was lessened by the pool of tears he saw gathering in my eyes and the waterfalls running down my chubby face, which was partially hidden behind my wavy brown hair. He was just as loving as Mrs. King; he simply displayed it in a different way.  

“No…don’t cry, Alex. It’s okay… You are learning the language… Everyone makes mistakes… It’s okay.” He motioned for the same student to take me to the restroom.

Who knew this Bilingual world was so complicated? Una de mis primeras experiencias en ser bilingüe: una palabra tiene el poder de comunicar más de un mensaje. One of my first lessons in being bilingual: one word can send a myriad of messages.