ALPHA DELTA KAPPA DECEMBER 2010 - Gedung Kuning

Education in Mexico and the United States
Becoming Bi-Cultural
By Eloisa Cudney
ImmedIate Past mexIco
NatIoNal PresIdeNt
Many years ago my father’s
company transferred him from
Mexico City to Los Angeles.
My first encounter with the
American public school system
took place when I enrolled in
Beverly Hills High School. The
experience was quite shocking
for a 14-year-old who barely
spoke English. To begin with, I
did not have to wear a uniform,
and there was someone called a
“counselor” who, with my father
translating for me, made up “my”
program for the first semester.
Wasn’t there an established
program for all the students
alike? My program consisted of
only five subjects per semester
instead of the 14 I had in Mexico
the previous year.
The first day in my new
school arrived. The front lawn
seemed ominous and huge,
compared to the typical school
in Mexico. My dad took me
to the principal’s office where
the dean of girls, Mrs. Pauley,
greeted me. A locker was assigned
to me in a hallway that
looked cavernous and silent.
Everyone was already in class.
Mrs. Pauley accompanied me
and introduced me to my first
class which was senior Spanish.
The counselor thought that the
best way for me to learn English
was by being with students
who were learning Spanish.
That didn’t work because the
teacher, Señor Padilla, didn’t
speak Spanish well. I got a “C”
that day on my first Spanish
test. I didn’t understand the
questions and didn’t dare get
up and ask the teacher because
in Mexico no student gets up
during a test.
When the bell rang, I didn’t
know what to do. In Mexico the
teachers changed classrooms,
not the students. All the sounds
of locker doors slamming, kids
talking and bells ringing seemed
to invade my whole body, frightening
me. Mrs. Pauley saw me
and came to my rescue, taking
me to my locker to put away the
Spanish textbook. That was another
first. In Mexico my mother
would take me to a bookstore
to buy my textbooks for the year
and cover them. In Beverly
High the books were lent to me
for a semester, and the books
were kept in my locker, not in
a compartment under the seat
of “my” desk. Mrs. Pauley took
me to my next class. Of course
I was late and wondered if I
would ever make a class on time
during such a short break. The
class was English I. That hour
went by as a complete blank. I
didn’t understand a thing. All
I knew was that I was left with
I got a “C” that day on my first Spanish test. I
didn’t understand the questions and didn’t dare
get up and ask the teacher because in Mexico no
student gets up during a test.
30
Excellence in Action for World Understanding
a copy of Ayn Rand’s “The
Fountainhead”—to be read that
week—and a grammar handbook.
Luckily that’s where I met
my first friend, Deanne Gross,
and she remained my friend
during the next three-and-a-half
years. We had English and biology
together, and she helped me
during recess.
I had never been to a school
cafeteria before nor paid for my
lunch at school. As a matter of
fact, my parents had not given
me any money. The first day,
Deanne shared some of her
lunch with me and then took
me to the gym after recess. I
had taken physical education
before, but not used a dressing
room with showers and chosen
the sport I wanted to play that
quarter. That first day I just
watched everyone swim and was
assigned a second locker for my
gym clothes. By the end of the
day, I was exhausted and dying
to go home.
A long time has passed since
that fateful day, and I have since
returned to Mexico and become
a teacher. The reason I became
a teacher was not because I had
a degree in education. I actually
went to college to study theater
arts and had a minor in education.
The main reason was that I
had become quite fluent in English.
So, when I went to enroll
my children in a private school
in Mexico City, I was asked to
give English classes. This meant
I would be working at the same
school my kids were attending
and, as a fringe benefit, my kids
would receive a scholarship from
kindergaten through second
grade. It also meant that, Ø