A rose by any other name..

There are so many thoughts racing across my mind.. first, I can’t believe I arrived at 50! I have been blessed with 50 years.
I can think of the time I didn’t think I would survive 21 years. My adolescence at times lived in the slums both mentally and physically and the exhaustion was felt and dealt with self harm. I can safely say those ‘ways’ are in the past but they have been lurking in the cracks of my mind lately.

You see, the worst thing that can be done to a child is to erode their self-esteem or be a witness to it and do nothing. After working in the public education system for over 25 years, I can identify with and identify children that do not genuinely love themselves. It could start with the care they display towards their name, and I didn’t care for mine, Rosa Chavez. There was a time I began using my middle name to make it special for me, Rosa Isabel Chavez. I did this because Isabel was my mothers name and it made me feel closer to her since I never did know her. She died when I was two. There was a time my grandmothers maiden name was a part of my name. Many Latin American countries use both parental last name, talk about a mouthful for a child.

My home environment was always under the radar nor did the temperature ever rise to be detected by ACS because the superficial needs were met. The rent was always paid, there was always food on the table and clothes were cleaned and sometimes new.. but kindness and affection was scarce if ever present. Today the latter is mentioned because somehow we have come to understand it’s importance but then it was like a winning lottery ticket, lucky if you got it.

Kindness, like affection and appreciation and gratitude like cruelty and hate are taught. They are not always innate character traits that awaken in human beings randomly but are experiences passed on that can mold the life of a child when expressed by the parents and adults around them.. My grandmother was limited when it came to kindness and affection in the home but somehow had it readily available for strangers and the ‘boys’ of the family. When asking for a hug, her reply? ‘You’re too old for that.’ I was 9. And her classist mindset when it came to my last name did not help. It is typical of many Latin Americans to possess superiority complexes when comparing their countries and the fact that the Chavez side was not from her island and thought to be alcoholics made her ‘side’ better despite my being her first grandchild.

Many years of ‘aha’ moments, higher education and therapy have allowed me to forgive only her and I stumbled on the path to loving me, loving my name as an adolescent when I discovered my talents in the sartorial arts. I decided, as artists do, to make my name worth something regardless of where it came from, I mean do we know, really know anything about Manet’s past? or Monet’s? or Oscar’s? without googling them!

I reference my childhood a lot because it reminds me of what I am capable of; the strength I can harness when I believe all is over therefore when it all seems bleak, all I have to do is think about that time.. the challenges I faced and overcame and it empowers me. I can’t say that I did it alone, there were many women, aunts, teachers, mentors that carried me through my pain as a youngster and because of them the load was lighter. Their love made me see that Rosa Isabel Chavez was worth loving despite wanting to end it all at 21

My faith, passed on by my grandmother saw me through those dark days and I believe it was a deal I made with God. ‘If I go on, if I decide to live, could You promise me better days?’ The pain was unreal.. Think of how much pain you could possibly feel to believe you were better dead. Could you?

Since then, God has made good on His promise. I have traveled the world and met people that became part of my circle and became a teacher teaching what I am great at, Fashion, in a place where women, my fashion teachers cared for me like mothers would when I was a teen.. again, those dark days. So when I was granted the chance to do what they did for me I ran with it, more like SOARED with it.

Every child that sat before me, I saw me in them and I participated in this very delicate performance of checks and balances in every year I taught, because I love what I do, I loved and love them and I was learning to love my SELF. I call it checks and balances because when you care about your students, you CHECK them, genuinely, patiently, and without judgement. It is hard in the beginning but if you do it with this mantra in mind, ‘do unto those as you would want done to you’, then you will be able to do it. Just remember what your life was like when you were a teen, IF life was hard for you… You know who you are. And if you remember then compassion could fill your every action. And that is what I did for over 15 years at my former high school now place of work.

‘Ms. Chavez’ is what they call me and I never tire of hearing it from my students mouths. While many adults can loath hearing the repetition of their names, even ‘ma’s’ and ‘dad’s’ can explode in the endless sound off, teachers develop an automatic ‘yes’ reply when they hear theirs. I say my yesses with more love in these past years..

Although not passed on, my experiences have taught me kindness and it has made me a better teacher. I believe my students appreciate that, I know I do..