the first day of school

i am nervous. i choose my clothes carefully. black slacks. silk shirt. uncomfortable black pumps. red lipstick.

i rush to campus to re-copy my syllabus. i've forgotten to include exam dates on the first copy.
i examine my class roster and try to gauge--by my students' class, major, gender, ethnicity--what kind of class dynamic i'll have.

walking into the classroom, i take a quick look around. many young, pleasant faces. most of them mexican american.

a couple of years ago, in one of the first classes i taught at UT, a young white woman told me that she was "surprised" on the first day of class to see a hispanic woman walk to the front of the classroom. "but the class is called 'la chicana,'" i objected. she told me that she expected that a white woman would teach it.

today i wonder if my students are surprised to see me--a chicana--approach the front of the room and begin to hand out syllabi.

the bell rings. i find myself talking too much, explaining the syllabus in more detail than necessary. i tell them that though i seem like a nice person, i am a merciless grader. they look at me with skepticism.

when i am finished fielding their questions about the course, i ask them to introduce themselves. they are from all over texas, mostly the rio grande valley and san antonio. their majors range from mexican american studies to engineering. they are freshman and seniors. many are taking the class to learn more about their culture.

it's the first day of class, and all of these students are perfect to me. i have yet to learn who will skip class, who will never read the articles for class, who will become disinterested. at this moment, they are all bright and full of potential. and so am i.

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