Than you, Miss Hiramoto!

Have you ever wished you could thank a teacher or mentor who contributed so much to your life?

 

I felt that way about Keiko Hiramoto, my El Cerrito High School Spanish teacher. At the time, in 1957, I thought: Why learn Spanish anyway? What good is it? Well, it was  quite good for me.

 

At first it was useful on trips to Mexico and Spain. “Quiero ir al aeropuerto, por favor,” I could say to the taxi driver. Of course, I couldn’t understand anything he said back. Years later, the Spanish helped me ask for directions as we traveled the Camino de Santiago in Spain.

 

It was especially useful when we went to Honduras to adopt our daughter Sara in 1990. My wife, Pickett, was well versed in Spanish, having spent a year in Spain as a student. But when she broke her leg on the trip, it was up to me to negotiate with hotels, food vendors and government authorities.

 

And when we left the country, waiting for the adoption to go through, I had to figure out how to pay a Honduran baby-sitter who spoke no English. It was quite difficult to talk to her about currency exchange rates in Spanish!

 

Later, when we wanted a foster child to be with Sara, none were assigned through the Arlington office. But when they found we could speak Spanish, we were assigned one whose family originated in El Salvador. And then came a big challenge: A 14-year-old from Guatemala, whose primary language was a Guatemalan indigenous dialect. She could speak some Spanish, though, and we conversed that way for six months at the dinner table.

 

Her father had paid a “coyote,” or immigration smuggler, lots of money to sneak her into this country. She had hoped to find a job but was really too young. The girl  went to stay with a relative, who abused her, and she just wanted to go back to Guatemala when she lived with us. She was miserable the whole time and was eventually flown back.

 

Amazingly, I can remember an awful lot of Spanish today, even if I can’t recall where I put my wallet or my phone.

 

I had forgotten about Spanish and Miss Hiramoto when I showed up at my 55^th high school reunion in 2014. When a few teachers were introduced, all of a sudden—there she was, only a few years older than her former students!

 

I explained what I had done with my Spanish and thanked her wholeheartedly. 

 

How often do you get to do that?