A small but important point: extremely poor Puerto Ricans began to move to New York in the early 1950's. They came with next to nothing in the middle of the winter, and sent their non-English-speaking kids to my school on the West Side of Manhattan wearing only single-layer cotton dresses, and no coats. How they managed to survive is bey…
A small but important point: extremely poor Puerto Ricans began to move to New York in the early 1950's. They came with next to nothing in the middle of the winter, and sent their non-English-speaking kids to my school on the West Side of Manhattan wearing only single-layer cotton dresses, and no coats. How they managed to survive is beyond me. Over the ensuing years they quickly learned the language, filled the sewing machines in the sweatshops on lower Broadway near Houston, and becoming a vital force and great contributor to New York City and mainland America at large. They brought new life - and lots of color, style and joy - to our very grey city as well as developing the marvel of Newyorican cuisine. We are so very much the better for accepting those poor immigrants into our midst. They were, and are, Americans of course.
Porter, It was probably mid 50's that I was aware of them in my Catholic school in Holyoke MA. I remember Sylvia Cartagena when she entered 2nd grade. She wore gold crosses pierced earrings. I asked my father if I could have earrings like that. He said they could be pulled out. I changed my mind. There was also a boy, Iliostoto Mendoza, who was very small with big beautiful eyes. They made such an impression on me that I'm remembering them a long way from 2nd grade.
I was in first grade in NYC in 1950-51 and recall that my mother related a conversation with my first grade teacher at a teacher-parent get-together. My teacher said something like "I've been teaching for 35 years, and look at the trash they give me to teach!" She retired the end of that year. I still recall my buddy Ernesto in third grade, a great kid and a good friend. That was a long time ago.
A small but important point: extremely poor Puerto Ricans began to move to New York in the early 1950's. They came with next to nothing in the middle of the winter, and sent their non-English-speaking kids to my school on the West Side of Manhattan wearing only single-layer cotton dresses, and no coats. How they managed to survive is beyond me. Over the ensuing years they quickly learned the language, filled the sewing machines in the sweatshops on lower Broadway near Houston, and becoming a vital force and great contributor to New York City and mainland America at large. They brought new life - and lots of color, style and joy - to our very grey city as well as developing the marvel of Newyorican cuisine. We are so very much the better for accepting those poor immigrants into our midst. They were, and are, Americans of course.
Porter, It was probably mid 50's that I was aware of them in my Catholic school in Holyoke MA. I remember Sylvia Cartagena when she entered 2nd grade. She wore gold crosses pierced earrings. I asked my father if I could have earrings like that. He said they could be pulled out. I changed my mind. There was also a boy, Iliostoto Mendoza, who was very small with big beautiful eyes. They made such an impression on me that I'm remembering them a long way from 2nd grade.
I was in first grade in NYC in 1950-51 and recall that my mother related a conversation with my first grade teacher at a teacher-parent get-together. My teacher said something like "I've been teaching for 35 years, and look at the trash they give me to teach!" She retired the end of that year. I still recall my buddy Ernesto in third grade, a great kid and a good friend. That was a long time ago.
Probably good that she retired.
She was a bigoted piece of work. The classic stern, strict teacher you dreaded seeing every day.
Sounds pretty mean spirited.