“Escuchame–don’t you dare waste this. Your papi and I didn’t travel this far for you to daydream and throw this away. Ya?”
“Of course, Mother.”
“That’s my Mira.”
But she was afraid, so during recess, while the gringos played and chatted, Mira hid in the book alcove, listening to her teacher make a phone call.
“So, I’ve got an illegal immigrant to deal with… I know! I’m not an a language teacher and I have 24 students already… It absolutely will end in disaster. She’ll fall behind, act out, drop out… Integrating these kids, it’s just a waste.”