Because of Mauricio

I used to say I didn’t want to be a teacher. I wanted to write and dreamed of publishing my stories. Then, due to necessity, I became a tutor. Thanks to the years of watching Mom teach, I felt comfortable working with my students, whether they needed reading assistance or help in elementary math. As the days passed, I enjoyed seeing my students’ eyes glow when they mastered a complex division problem. I grinned when one of my girls, mimicking one of my strategies, used her fingers to break apart and sound out words. My heart swelled whenever students who didn’t like school entered my classroom excited to learn. Day by day, lesson by lesson, student by student, I fell in love with teaching.

Fast-forward four years; thanks to my dad, I pursued my teaching credential, and despite countless roadblocks, I persisted and earned my California teaching credential in 2015. Even though my credential program prepared me for elementary grades, Downtown Charter Academy, a Charter school in Oakland, hired me to instruct 7th-grade English. Regretfully, I was teacher #3 for the 7A class in two weeks. I needed to hit the ground running.

Through circumstances beyond my control, my principal decided to switch me to the 7th-grade tutor halfway through the year. I cried the whole ride home on BART. Did I somehow pick the wrong profession? Was I not cut out to teach? However, looking back, it was one of the principal’s best decisions as it allowed me to work one-on-one with one student: Mauricio. Unfortunately, he struggled in multiple areas—and not just in school. His issues branched into health, family, and self-esteem. Probably other issues I never learned about. He also tended to act out in class whenever I taught and played pranks on me. Yet, whenever I worked with him one-on-one, I saw glimmers of his dormant intelligence. With extra practice and guidance, he caught onto dissecting a text and responding to reading prompts. Beyond impressed, I raced off to find Coach, one of the administrators and held up Mauricio’s work.

“Coach, look what Mauricio did!” I exclaimed.

Coach, barely glancing at Mauricio’s worksheet, shook his head. “Amber, forget about Mauricio. He doesn’t matter. He’s a lost cause. Focus on your other students.”

As his footsteps vanished down the hallway, I stood rooted in place, my ears deaf to all surrounding sounds as Coach’s words echoed and looped through my head.

Forget about Mauricio.

He doesn’t matter.

He’s a lost cause.

How in the world could a school administrator ever say something like that? Yes, Mauricio wore thick-armored skin to protect him from the hurts and disappointments of life. Yes, he struggled more than his peers. Engaging him in the lessons was challenging, but he was not a lost cause! Lips-pinched together, I vowed never to let myself become so jaded and dismissive of my students—to accept failure, to give up on my babies when they are all but screaming, pleading, for someone to see their potential, to accept them, to show them how to grow and become the best they can be.

Someone who would love them unconditionally.

Now, eight years later, I’ve kept my promise. I stayed at Downtown Charter Academy for three more years. I helped strengthen the reading and comprehension gaps for 6th-7th graders before relocating to another charter school where I built and created a love for reading and English skills with my kindergarteners. Now, I am a self-contained third-grade teacher in Arkansas. I still have my “students first” mindset and continuously seek ways to develop rapport with my students and strengthen my community.

My students are my adopted sons and daughters; I will never stop loving them, even when they behave poorly. Because of Mauricio, I will never give up on them.