Going the extra mile can help someone
I like kids. I like hearing them laugh. I like watching them color. I like playing hide and seek with them. They’re fun. As much as I love them, I can’t imagine being in a room with 18 of them from 8:30 to 3:30, every day, the way my mom is.
She teaches third-graders in an elementary school that is literally on the border of Mexico and the United States. Back home, that part of town is nicknamed el Segundo barrio. The barrio is home to many new immigrants. It’s where my mom grew up.
In the summer, I usually help my mom clean out or set up her classroom. I’ll admit I’m not always jumping out of bed to go help her. But luckily I have lunch to look forward to. That community is home to the best Mexican food in the United States. My mom and I go for tacos at The Good Luck Café and have sweet bread at The Bowie Bakery.
Usually, as my mom is standing in line, getting ready to pay, she’s greeted by someone — a baker, a student, a mother. I’m always impressed by how many people in the community know her as their children’s current or former teacher. I beam with pride when I see the admiration in their eyes. Recently, I learned where that admiration comes from.
I sat at my mother’s desk one December morning staring at the door. When it popped open, I could see I wouldn’t be sitting much longer. It was the last day of school, and her energized third- graders had a party to look forward to. A handful of them skipped over to me and introduced themselves with smiles.
As they settled into their little chairs and little two-person desks, my mom volunteered me to read them a story. It was a story about poinsettias, written in English and Spanish. I attempted to read the Spanish, but it wasn’t long before my mom said it was OK for me to stick to English. Following the story, my mom worked on a writing assignment with the anxious bunch.
Finally, it was time for the party. We set up the “Elf” movie, and a little girl helped me serve pizza, tamales, nachos and chips. Later, as the kids were playing Twister and checkers, my mom gave everyone goodie bags as Christmas gifts.
Many of the kids walked up to me and slipped pieces of candies into my hand. I was surprised at how happy they were to share with me. One little girl, Maria, received a box of chocolate-covered cherries in the children’s gift exchange. She opened her box and asked me to take one.
At the end of the day, when all the kids ran out of the room waving goodbye, my mom stopped Maria and asked her to wait. I was supposed to lead Maria and her mother to my mom’s minivan and hand them a few bags from the trunk.
I walked to the front of the school, Maria’s hand in mine, and she looked up at me smiling.
“So Maria, how do you like school?” I asked her.
“I love it,” she replied. “I wanted to go to school for a long time, but my mom wouldn’t take me. I told her, ‘I have to go to school, Mom. If not, I’m not going to learn.’ I like it even though it’s hard.”
“That’s really good, Maria,” I told her. “Sometimes school’s hard for me, too, and I want to give up. But you’re right. If we don’t go to school, we’re not going to learn. So no matter how hard it gets, don’t give up.”
She nodded.
Downstairs, I met Maria’s young mother. She was carrying her newborn and still had a child’s face. She couldn’t have been much older than I.
When we got to the van, I opened the trunk and found bags filled with groceries and a gift with a tag labeled “to: Maria.” I handed them the goods and gift, and Maria’s face lit up along with her mother’s. They asked me to thank my mom, and as they walked off, looking for another one of Maria’s brothers, I realized that little girl would never forget what my mom did.
My mom’s a teacher. She works with some of the poorest children. Her job is solely to teach them, but she often goes a step further. Many times, it’s that extra step that makes a difference in people’s lives.
For Maria, whose mother never graduated from high school and who started school many years after she was supposed to, my mother’s gesture was encouragement to keep going, even if the odds were against her.
I’ve always understood the importance of “walking the extra mile.” It’s a key to success, my own success.
But now I realize there’s another mile to walk. This time it’s for someone else — anyone. We can all affect someone, the way my mother affected Maria.
Sarah Tenorio is a University of Nebraska-Lincoln freshman who comes from El Paso, Texas.
She teaches third-graders in an elementary school that is literally on the border of Mexico and the United States. Back home, that part of town is nicknamed el Segundo barrio. The barrio is home to many new immigrants. It’s where my mom grew up.
In the summer, I usually help my mom clean out or set up her classroom. I’ll admit I’m not always jumping out of bed to go help her. But luckily I have lunch to look forward to. That community is home to the best Mexican food in the United States. My mom and I go for tacos at The Good Luck Café and have sweet bread at The Bowie Bakery.
Usually, as my mom is standing in line, getting ready to pay, she’s greeted by someone — a baker, a student, a mother. I’m always impressed by how many people in the community know her as their children’s current or former teacher. I beam with pride when I see the admiration in their eyes. Recently, I learned where that admiration comes from.
I sat at my mother’s desk one December morning staring at the door. When it popped open, I could see I wouldn’t be sitting much longer. It was the last day of school, and her energized third- graders had a party to look forward to. A handful of them skipped over to me and introduced themselves with smiles.
As they settled into their little chairs and little two-person desks, my mom volunteered me to read them a story. It was a story about poinsettias, written in English and Spanish. I attempted to read the Spanish, but it wasn’t long before my mom said it was OK for me to stick to English. Following the story, my mom worked on a writing assignment with the anxious bunch.
Finally, it was time for the party. We set up the “Elf” movie, and a little girl helped me serve pizza, tamales, nachos and chips. Later, as the kids were playing Twister and checkers, my mom gave everyone goodie bags as Christmas gifts.
Many of the kids walked up to me and slipped pieces of candies into my hand. I was surprised at how happy they were to share with me. One little girl, Maria, received a box of chocolate-covered cherries in the children’s gift exchange. She opened her box and asked me to take one.
At the end of the day, when all the kids ran out of the room waving goodbye, my mom stopped Maria and asked her to wait. I was supposed to lead Maria and her mother to my mom’s minivan and hand them a few bags from the trunk.
I walked to the front of the school, Maria’s hand in mine, and she looked up at me smiling.
“So Maria, how do you like school?” I asked her.
“I love it,” she replied. “I wanted to go to school for a long time, but my mom wouldn’t take me. I told her, ‘I have to go to school, Mom. If not, I’m not going to learn.’ I like it even though it’s hard.”
“That’s really good, Maria,” I told her. “Sometimes school’s hard for me, too, and I want to give up. But you’re right. If we don’t go to school, we’re not going to learn. So no matter how hard it gets, don’t give up.”
She nodded.
Downstairs, I met Maria’s young mother. She was carrying her newborn and still had a child’s face. She couldn’t have been much older than I.
When we got to the van, I opened the trunk and found bags filled with groceries and a gift with a tag labeled “to: Maria.” I handed them the goods and gift, and Maria’s face lit up along with her mother’s. They asked me to thank my mom, and as they walked off, looking for another one of Maria’s brothers, I realized that little girl would never forget what my mom did.
My mom’s a teacher. She works with some of the poorest children. Her job is solely to teach them, but she often goes a step further. Many times, it’s that extra step that makes a difference in people’s lives.
For Maria, whose mother never graduated from high school and who started school many years after she was supposed to, my mother’s gesture was encouragement to keep going, even if the odds were against her.
I’ve always understood the importance of “walking the extra mile.” It’s a key to success, my own success.
But now I realize there’s another mile to walk. This time it’s for someone else — anyone. We can all affect someone, the way my mother affected Maria.
Sarah Tenorio is a University of Nebraska-Lincoln freshman who comes from El Paso, Texas.
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