Volume 2.10 | Letter to the Editor
August 13, 2014, was my first day as an ASFM teacher. To give you a clearer picture of the passing of time, Joaquín Derby was 13 years old and René Bortoni about 13 inches high. That legendary P3 was filled with students who got constant “amenazas”, broke one of my paintings and popped my brand new bean bags. Not to name names, but ahem, Othón, Trevi, and Jorge. Raquel Lozano would sit in positions that made my ligaments hurt just looking at her. Valentina Salvador had a baby picture of Jime Villarreal that she carried everywhere, and even though the latter would not be my student until two years later, I memorized her face.
You were faithful companions in my five-year journey as an educator. The only ones I ever taught in Middle School and my only ChEd 10 class. You were my Body Image Project leaders and my Journalism pioneers. You’re the only gene that I know about 95 percent of by name.
Many of you took the original Journalism class with me even when you didn’t like writing, and many followed into what is now El Ciento-Siete. Together we created this magazine. I changed a whole period from the roster for Gabriel, Tania and Daniel to be able to be part of this crazy idea. I still remember Viola telling me the first day of 10th grade that she had not chosen this elective. I told her that maybe she was here for a reason. I don’t know if life gave her any sort of answer to this, but I’m happy to say she’s still part of this team.
It’ll be hard saying goodbye, but it seems I was meant to graduate with you.
I hope that if anything I was able to empower you, to push you to become your better selves. Maybe I helped a little with your writing skills or spelling in Spanish, but at the end of the day, that’s not what I wish to be remembered for.
I hope you remember me as a good listener. I hope that A107 was a place where you could relax or find comfort. I hope that I was someone you could count on. I hope that I helped you find your voice.
I want to thank you, all of you, for having made this half-decade so special. I could never have asked for a better BIP President and Editor in Chief than Moni. I deeply valued the constant company of Vale Izaguirre. I enjoyed arguing with Eugenio and Luis. I loved watching you grow, mature, and evolve.
As this stage in my life comes to an end I wonder if I’ll ever be a teacher again. I miss the 99 generation so much I don’t know if I could stand coming back in August and having to miss you too... then gene ‘01, ‘02, ‘03. And even though I embrace change, there is so much heartache one can take. So here we go.
Maybe someday we’ll return to find that we did make an impact, that the dream lives on. I wish, if anything, that I’ll find a copy of El Ciento-Siete somewhere, even though no one will remember why it is called that way.