"Those who can, do..."

When I first came across Jim Cooper's Down on the Island, I was... hesitant about reading it. In this memoir, Cooper reflects upon his time in Puerto Rico. More specifically, as a professor in Mayagüez back in the 1960s. I was wary because I kept wondering what his perspective on Puerto Rico was going to be. 

It would be an understatement to say that Puerto Rico has a somewhat complicated relationship with the United States. This is definitely relevant when discussing the history of public education in our island. At one point, American teachers were brought over and were forced to teach classes in English to citizens who were, back then, barely literate in Spanish. 

So as you can imagine, when I first heard that this book featured and American professor in our island, I was curious. I wanted to understand the context behind it. I was pleasantly surprised when I noticed that Cooper is an impartial observer of his surroundings. Of course, in a memoir of this type, it is impossible to transform oneself into a completely neutral narrator. But Cooper writes with honesty and respect about his environment, and about all those small particularities that make Mayagüez, Mayagüez and that make Puerto Rico, Puerto Rico. 

For example, he does not write about his living conditions with a resentful tone. He, quite simply, presents what is around him:

[...] my friend Gene Hall and I were sharing one of the casetas on campus. In contrast to quite substantial cement houses lived in by Beck with and other senior members of the faculty, the casetas consisted of a row of five small, temporary wooden houses a short way uphill from the cow barns, which were rented, on very reasonable terms, to junior faculty members. 

Educating others is never an easy thing to do, and Cooper seemed to struggle a lot with his curriculum. He does, however, mention one very important thing: "Despite the failings of the syllabus, we did have one very important thing working in our favor in the classroom. The students wanted to learn English and wanted to communicate in it."

His most poignant and beautiful quote, in my opinion, is the following: "Somehow, without my realizing it, living and teaching at the Colegio had become the real world, no longer in quotes. Not much like the one I had left behind, perhaps, but most certainly real." He captures the essence of immigration, of not just traveling but actually settling in one place. The Colegio was "other", it was distanced from him... Until one day, it was not. Somewhere along the line, it stopped being a separate thing, and became his reality.

That being said, by far what I liked most about the seventh chapter, "Teaching English", is that he is also brutally frank about the struggles he had as a teacher. It seems to me that with each passing day, people find it easier to dismiss teaching as a serious profession. My mother is a teacher, and so I am a fervent defender of educators. While reading Cooper's experiences, I was reminded of the classic idiom, "Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach." What a strange, and frankly demeaning, expression.

Interestingly enough, I believe the opposite to be true. When we're young, one of the first things that we try to do is to teach others. Children teach their friends to play games, they teach their siblings to tie their shoes, they teach their dogs tricks. It's human nature. Yet, most kids (as well as adults) get easily frustrated when they try and fail to educate someone on a particular topic. It seems to me like those who have a natural talent for teaching discover it a young age. The rest of us are the ones who have to find something else to do.

As food for thought, I leave you with Taylor Mali's fantastic slam poem, "What Teachers Make". Here is a link for one of his many performances, and here is a link to the written version of the poem. Additionally, here is a "graphic" (comic book) version of it.