Senorita Barrera

In the year 1962, we perked up as our teachers wheeled in TVs on tall carts. But no, we were not going to watch reruns of “I love Lucy” or Tarzan movies. We were going to learn Spanish, and on KLRN TV. We were immediately suspicious and it all went downhill from there. In 1962, no one paid any attention to Maria Montessori or held with the concept that learning could be fun and interesting. We were still in the puritanical days. You came to school, you stuck your nose into your lessons and did them. Period! KLRN in 1962 meant amateur, hokey and boring, nothing like the excellent public television we enjoy today.

Several times a week we were subjected to cheerful chirpy Senorita Barrera and her puppets and ventriloquist’s dummy. The poor woman did everything but walk on her hands to make it fun and entertaining for us, but we refused to be amused. Of course, we actively participated since our teacher had her eye on us, but at Wilshire Elementary we hated the senorita and her puppets. Our attitude was just sorry.

It went down like this: 

(Cute music as the senorita entered the a colorful hacienda style set with a huge smile on her face)

Senorita Barrera: Hola, ninos!!!

Students (in sullen but subtle monotones): Holasenoritabarrera

Senorita Barrera: Que tal??!! Como estas??!!!

Students (sullen monotones continued): Estabuybiengracias

And so it went. Looking back on the show, I now realize how innovative and ahead of her time she was, and what a good opportunity it would have been if our attitudes had been a bit better. Learning as fun was a new concept that we had certainly never been exposed to. The sets were wonderful, and her props were creative. She used two hand puppets named Pipo and Pipa. But we saved our true wrath for the ventriloquist’s dummy: Ricardene. He was a Howdy Doody / Chucky style thing with those hideous freckles. Out on the playground we nicknamed him Retardene.

Now remember this was live TV and it WAS entertaining to watch behind the senorita for the technical people walking across the sets in the background and then running for cover when they realized they had walked into a live broadcast. 

It really was a shame that we were such sullen, narrow-minded little urchins. We looked down on the Spanish language, and down on Senorita Barrera. Our 4^th grade teacher, Mrs. Danforth, was fully bilingual and tried to influence us to be more open to learning other languages, but we would have none of it. After all, America was the master of the universe, wasn’t it? Why should we be bothered to learn a language other than English? 

If you google Aida Barrera , you will find that she had an impressive career that spanned several decades. Today, she is considered an icon in Texas education.  In the late 70s, her TV Spanish program had morphed into a new and more sophisticated series: Carrascolendas, that took bilingual education even further. She wrote books.  If only I had been a little more willing to learn from her.

Mrs. Danforth, our fourth grade teacher, ramped up the Spanish torture.  She pushed us relentlessly to learn that second language, dragging us along in her wake with explanations of how wonderful it was to be fluent in another language.  Everyone in Europe spoke at least two to three languages!  (Really????  Did we care??) Despite her efforts, we remained unimpressed.    Mrs. Danforth was Anglo, but had learned fluent Spanish as a child from Hispanic playmates, the children of her upper crust family’s maids.   Mrs. Danforth taught us our Christmas carols in Spanish and made us sing them (grudgingly).  Our fourth grade play was in Spanish.  How did they expect the rest of the school to understand it?  We hardly understood what we were singing, but on we went singing and putting on cutesy skits with Mi Burro and other characters while the first graders watched in total bewilderment.  Mi Burro had a sore throat and we had to wrap a white scarf around him while we sang about his misfortune. 

A mi burro, a mi burro 

Le duele la garganta 

Y el médico le ha dado 

Una bufanda blanca 

Una bufanda blanca 

Mi burro enfermo está 

Mi burro enfermo está 

It was actually pretty cute, though unappreciated due to the language barrier.  One fourth grader had to don the huge paper mache donkey’s head and lurch and sway out on the stage in mock pain while the first graders on the front row sat with their mouths open, not understanding a thing.  We did our best.

We worked hard in school, but welcomed a true treat:  field trips.