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Preface and Acknowledgements: A Dedication to Educators

 Sin profes no hay
Poesía for María Rosa Serdio

Bajo la acacia en la sabana
sin un techo o con todos los detalles,
en pleno desierto, en el oasis,
en la alta trocha de los Andes,
en cualquier canal de oriente,
en la escuela más uniformada,
o en un pueblo a la espera de tenerla,
en la orilla del lago Tanganica,
bajo el sol del trópico,
en el norte más norte o
al sur más extremo…
Hay una escuela siempre
que alguien se siente en círculo con otros
a aprender y a enseñar.
Sin círculo no hay palabra.
¡Sin maestros no hay escuela!

 

My first schooling experience was in the barrio of San Diego in Coamo, Puerto Rico, a rural community in the campos of Puerto Rico. Our school consisted of three small classrooms, a small cafeteria, a handful of teachers, and hundreds of kids. Most of us were the children of landless farmers whom the world had forgotten, but not to Ms. Pérez, my first-grade teacher. She demanded, yes demanded, that we see ourselves for what we truly were, which was wonderful children full of endless potential. I still remember how she would arrive at school every single day, including our field day, dressed to the nines, with makeup and hair done to withstand the scorching Caribbean sun, because as she told us, “we were important.” Her classroom reflected her style: perfectly lined rows of tiny desks, cursive handwriting on the blackboard that looked like artwork, neatly stacked workbooks, and sharpened pencils that perpetually looked new, even though we were always writing. Ms. Pérez had a single mission: to teach us to read, which she did. The perfect mix of unwavering high standards and lots of cariño opened our world. Learning to read and listening to her read made me so happy because it allowed me and others to dream. But dreaming can be very dangerous, especially when it’s fleeting.

 

Following yet another economic collapse, my family left Borikén and my precious teachers, friends, and school to live with my cousin and her child in a tiny two-bedroom city apartment alla fuera- in the States. In my new school, I was part of a misfit group of “bilingual kids” which meant we didn’t speak English and therefore often treated as outcasts or completely ignored. Nobody seemed to care that Juan and Rodger were survivors of the Civil War in El Salvador. Nobody seemed to care that Mari didn’t know her mother, having been raised by her Abuela in the Dominican Republic. Nobody seemed to care that the reason Amelia was always late was because  she was taking care of her little brother and sisters while her parents worked the overnight shift. Nobody seemed to care that Manuel’s father was a physicist in Cuba. So, when I was told “to go back to where you came from,” right in front of the gym teacher, I did not say anything back, I just quietly hated school.

 

That is until I met Ms. Schiano, a quirky and intensely talented fifth-grade bilingual education teacher who the universe brought into my life when I needed it the most. Ms. Schiano exuded joyfulness, hope, and curiosity. She read to us stories, like James and the Giant Peach, for what felt like hours, each of us hanging on to every syllable and her funny little voices. “I am capable, I am knowledgeable, I am lovable.”  “I am capable, I am knowledgeable, I am lovable.” She made us recite it every day, together, juntos, for over 180 days.  It was years later that I recognized this as one of many acts of subversion by this powerful and loving human being who was trying so hard to help us hold on to what many wanted to strip away. Ms. Schiano helped my family transfer me to a “gifted/honors” program even though I was just mastering English. I deeply believe that this single act of generosity changed the trajectory of my life.

 

Throughout my career as an educator, I have often thought about Ms. Pérez and Ms. Schiano and hope that I too can provide my students with rigorous and loving learning experiences that allow them to feel understood and seen, and that inspire them to be radically curious and reimage a world we may not see but deeply hope for. This has become even more important as I am now a teacher of educators. My students are educators in urban school districts who serve children and families facing tremendous challenges, similar to the ones I faced as a child. I see how they try too try to balance rigor, tenderness, joyfulness, scarcity, understanding, humility, and criticality in these very difficult times.

 

I am thankful for Ms. Pérez, Ms. Schiano, and the educators across the globe who love children so profoundly, allowing us to dream and to see beyond the structural circumstances that are woven into our lives. Thank you to all educators who commit to knowing every student’s “name, strength, and story” (Abeyta, 2024). Thank you for helping children work towards a world where we can all have what we need, a world where we can all be free. I dedicate this book to you.

Acknowledgments

This dedication feels especially important because this book would not be possible without the support of a group of dedicated educators.  First, I would like to acknowledge the support of UMass Boston librarians Lucas Hall, Lydia Burrage-Goodwin, and Christine Moynihan.  Lucas and Lydia spent close to a year with me dreaming up this book project. They generously shared their time and wisdom, and walked me through all the technical aspects of OER publishing, including licensing, editing, citations, design, and so much more. They also offered me incredible encouragement, flexibility, and support. Thank you also to Christine Moynihan, who encouraged me to develop this project and then guided us, lending her expertise on all things related to UMass Boston and OER production.  Without them and the support of the OER Faculty Incentive Program, this book project would not have been possible. The Center for Innovative Teaching at UMass Boston, as part of their faciculty seminar,  provided with me  with space time to develop this project.  Thank you.  I am also deeply grateful to all contributing authors, all of whom are educators with incredible expertise.  They are also my former students, from whom I have learned so much.  I thank you for your willingness to share your brilliance with others and for agreeing to be part of this project.  To all of you and all future contributors, I thank you for your commitment to serve others and hope the universe provides you with an abundance of all that is good.

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Latine Students in U.S. Schools:  An Interactive Resource Book for Educators Copyright © 2025 by Melissa Colón is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License, except where otherwise noted.

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