Another D for DeeDee
Page 19
“Hello, DeeDee,” says Mrs. Wang. “It’s nice to see you again. I enjoyed your performance. This is Nancy’s kindergarten brother, Austin.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, but Austin doesn’t say anything back. He gazes past me, asleep with his eyes open. Mrs. Wang wipes a little dribble from his lips, lifts his legs, and pivots him into the car. Then she starts to collapse the wheelchair. A sticker on the back window of the van says, I’M THE PROUD PARENT OF A NORTHLAKE VALEDICTORIAN.
“I didn’t know you had a little brother,” I say to Nancy. “I didn’t see him at the sleepover.”
Nancy has been crying. I’m sure of it. Her eyes are red and her nose is swollen. She stares at the ground and mutters, “Austin stays with my dad every other weekend to give my mom a break. He needs a lot of attention. My other brother is away at college.”
As more kids stream down the sidewalk, Nancy slides lower and lower until she’s sitting on the fender of the van.
I go around the side door and smile at Austin. He nods his head at me and makes a sound. Nancy’s mom reaches in and buckles his seatbelt. “Why does Austin need a wheelchair?” I ask Mrs. Wang. Some people, Mami for one, would tell me to mind my manners, but I’m not afraid of disabilities.
“Cerebral palsy,” she says. “Nancy’s a little shy about being in public with Austin, but he loves Spring Fling.”
I can’t believe what a selfish brat Nancy is. Being embarrassed about her own brother. Just because he’s in a wheelchair. As if disabilities are the plague.
I’m about to walk back and wait for Danny to bring the car when I stop myself. Nancy is no different from me. I was embarrassed about being friends with River in public. I treated him horribly, pretended I didn’t know him. I even denied being his friend. But I was lucky enough to get a wake-up call from River’s Padlet, and from Danny and Papi. And just in time to be able to dance with my best friend and show off my Mexican heritage, and represent people with distinctions.
I walk back to the front of the van. Mrs. Wang stands talking to another mom. What did River write in his Padlet? People don’t deserve second and third chances until they learn from their mistakes. Well, how do you know if someone has learned from their mistakes unless you give them a second chance?
“I think your little brother is cute,” I say to Nancy. “River would say he’s got distinction. And my brother is going away, too, like your brother at college. He’s in the National Guard.”
Nancy lifts her eyes to my face. She squints and scrutinizes me. “You don’t have to be nice to me. I don’t deserve it.”
“You’re not the only one who does mean things,” I say.
“I don’t know,” she says. “At first I didn’t really think I was a bully, but Dr. Souriyavongsa made me write down everything mean I’ve done and compare my list with what the teachers said.”
“Holy jalepeño, that stinks,” I say. For the first time, Nancy doesn’t sound stuck-up and bossy. She sounds scared.
“DeeDee, I’m so sorry for everything I did. I really am,” she says with a little snuffle. “And I didn’t mean it about Spring Fling. You’re a really good dancer.”
“River was an amazing partner,” I say.
Nancy lets out a sigh. “And I’m sorry about River, too. He sticks up for his friends. You’re lucky. I’m such a baby for getting jealous just because I wanted attention. I don’t know what my problem is.”
“I have an idea. Next year we’ll all try out together so we’ll all get attention.” I feel about as big as the school. My heart is light and feathery.
“Are you kidding? River won’t ever speak to me again after what I did to him.”
“Then we’ll dare him to do it, and that’s the truth,” I say, hoping she puts two and two together and comes up with sleepover.
She does and says, “That was a disaster. Did you know Samantha called her mom to pick her up, too? And I got grounded. River is never going to forgive me for that.”
Is it bad if I’m secretly happy she called the sleepover a disaster and got grounded? That’s one way to learn from your mistakes, isn’t it?
“River is the master of second chances,” I say. “You don’t live long and prosper unless you let people learn from their mistakes.” I copy River’s salute when I say this.
“Nancy,” Mrs. Wang calls. “We’ve got to go. Austin is getting tired.”
Nancy straightens up and walks around to the side of the van.
“We’re all going to Banana Split, if you want to come,” I say, hoping it’s not too soon for River to be ready with a second chance. “It’s a place in my old neighborhood.”
Nancy glances over at the group waiting for me and shakes her head.
Mrs. Wang asks, “Is it next to a park? I was there a long time ago.”
“You can follow us, if you want.”
“We’d love that, wouldn’t we, Nancy?” Mrs. Wang gets in the car.
Nancy doesn’t answer.
I put my hand on her arm and lean close to her. “Don’t you wonder what kind of ice cream bubblebutts eat?”
Nancy lets out a little snort—a tiny bit of a giggle. “You’re my funniest friend,” she says and opens her car door. She smiles at me. “Don’t you wonder if they serve noodles to noodlenoses at Banana Split?”
“Look who’s funny,” I say. And we both laugh. A gut-busting, new-beginning, pepita-planting laugh.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
"Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"
—Emma Lazarus
The Statue of Liberty stands in New York City—a symbol of more than a century of weaving immigrants into the fabric of our “perfect Union” where together we establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the Common Defense, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity. We are a nation of immigrants.
But where is the lamp beside the golden door today? In 2017 ICE removed 226,119 undocumented immigrants. Forty-three percent were non-criminals. Over seventy six percent of American adults believe that immigrants strengthen our country and over fifty percent of American adults believe that undocumented immigrants should be allowed to pursue citizenship.
Writing Another D for DeeDee forced me to think about the collateral damage being caused when families are split apart and how children’s lives hang in the balance. The basic human rights of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness shouldn’t be attainable only if born as a United States citizen. Between 1892 and 1954 over twelve million immigrants arrived at Ellis Island, pursuing the American Dream in a country designed to protect the human spirit. TWELVE MILLION. Yet in 2017, we’re turning away over 310,000 immigrants at the southern border of our country, and 41,500 are children.
I understand that we want a safe and stable country. I understand that some immigrants enter the United States to perpetrate gang activity and peddle drugs. Of course we want to protect our country. I also understand that criteria need to be met before immigrants attain legal status. But what if the twelve million immigrants arriving at Ellis Island had to wait five years before even applying to become a United States citizen? What if it cost $800 for a green card to become a resident, and then $900 to become a citizen?
I am the granddaughter of immigrants. Both sets of my grandparents were born in other countries. And my life is enriched by the many immigrants I call friends. I’m not a gifted politician or lawyer, but those who are must be able to figure out a way to welcome “the tired, the poor, the huddled masses yearning to breathe free.” And a way to simplify the process of becoming a naturalized United States citizen.
It is always my goal to write books that represent the students I’ve been privileged to teach, but writing outside of my own cultural background requires hel
p from so many people. I’m humbled by the willingness of authenticity readers to sift through my manuscript for inaccuracies and misrepresentations. And so I have a long list of people to thank:
First and most importantly, Daisy Olveras, a former East Aurora District 131 Allen Elementary School student, who loved my first book Canned and Crushed, but kept bugging me to write a book about a girl. Daisy allowed me to accompany her on her visits to monitor her diabetes while I was writing Another D for DeeDee. As a first grader, Ashley Mack, another Allen Elementary School student with diabetes, participated in a first grade enrichment group and as a treat for completing assignments I passed out jelly beans, not aware that she had diabetes. Even good teachers make mistakes and need to be educated. Thanks to both Daisy and Ashley for educating me and making me a better teacher and writer.
I met Yeris Mayol-Garcia on the train to South Bend in 2016. She commented on the book I was reading, The Distance Between Us by Reyna Grande and we began a conversation. What a coincidence that Yeris had just completed a Ph.D. graduate study program at Penn State and had accepted a coveted position at the U.S. Census Bureau in Washington D.C. Yeris’ research focuses on how parental migration affects children and her input on Another D for DeeDee was invaluable.
Jeanne McDonald and Marsha Evitts worked alongside me for many years in East Aurora, District 131. Jeanne teaches hard of hearing students and Marsha supports students as a school nurse. Jeanne helped me get my facts straight about students who are hard of hearing and Marsha instructed me on diabetic care for students. Having both of these resources at my fingertips was a phenomenal advantage. And then, as if I wasn’t enough of a bother, they both agreed to read my rough draft and give me feedback.
Josiah VanWingerden, a senior at Whitworth University in Spokane, WA, advocates for students with disabilities. He says, “I am certainly not the ‘typical’ Whitworth student, for instance, I am part of a minority race, use a wheelchair to get around, and am adopted. In these ways, I am the non-normative student. I want to be an educator and advocator so that I can validate each person’s experience. This is what inspired me to become a student-leader.” This amazing college student gave me unbelievable feedback for Another D for DeeDee as I struggled to get it right when portraying a character with disabilities.
Kyle Jacobson, copy editor for Madison Essentials Magazine, and passionate skater coached me on skateboard lingo, for which DeeDee, River and skaters who read will forever be thankful.
The current #ownvoices makes me determined to find authentic voices and include them in my story. Even though I’ve worked with marginalized students my entire teaching career, I can’t presume to understand how it feels or appropriate the specific culture correctly without advice from authentic voices. Third grade teacher, Ada Carrillo, and Allen Elementary administrative assistant, Sonia Fonseca, patiently helped me avoid using words from my Spanish dictionary that made no sense. Doctoral student Judith Legoretta and East Aurora District 131 Johnson Elementary School principal Dr. Rita Guzman, supplied much needed specifics about undocumented status, deportation, and quinceañeras. Gracias. Dios las bendigas.
Editors hold a special place in my heart for taking shapeless blobs of stories and molding them into beautiful books. Thank you to Rachel Stark and Kirsten Kim, who worked tirelessly on my messy blob.
As always, my husband and family fuel my emotional well-being—you know who you are—with a special shout-out to brand-new Ruby Lynn Lipsker, born February 10, 2018—a baby in my arms while revising my manuscript. My writing sisters motivate me to keep writing—Christine DeSmet, Cheryl Hanson, Julie Holmes, Blair Hull, Lisa Kusko, Martha Miles, and Roi Solberg.
And the words of my God convict me—Jeremiah 22:3 “Do justice and righteousness, and deliver the one who has been robbed from the power of his oppressor. Also do not mistreat or do violence to the foreigner, the orphan, or the widow.”