Favorite Teacher
By Vivian Ramirez Rodriguez
I was excited to start high school having passed down knowledge from my two older siblings about who the good and bad teachers were at the local public high school we all attended. Prior to 9th grade, my middle school offered only one foreign language: Spanish, which was taught by a bitter old Spanish man who spoke differently from everyone else in the class who was from Mexico or Central America. It was my first day of highschool in my Spanish 3 class where I met Mr.Botello for the first time. He was a well-dressed, over-qualified, Mexican immigrant from CDMX that happened to be the first Latinx teacher I’d ever had. He was also first-gen and spoke with a familiar accent most students in his class were accustomed to hearing in their own homes. As soon as I walked into the class I knew I was going to not only enjoy the year, but also take as many classes with him as I could. The classroom was actually a portable from the 90s that had been painted a bright yellow on the inside and was covered in Mexican/Chicanx paintings alongside various Latin American decorations including gifts students would bring Mr.Botello from their travels to their home countries. He was funny and quickly learned everyone’s name, creating a peaceful and welcoming environment filled with “mijos” and “mijas.” When he was out of his classroom, he would receive hello’s from students that weren’t even in his class. The “troubled” students so many teachers talked down to almost never missed his class.
I’d never met someone so charismatic and genuine that looked out for his students in any way; he could even collect grad pictures and hang them on the wall. I was fortunate to have him for three consecutive years and while Spanish was my native language– Ethnic Studies wasn’t. His curriculum was not simply reciting conjugations or nailing vocabulary; it was also learning the diverse Latin American countries with their Indigenous populations and introducing revolutionaries like Emiliano Zapata and exploring the art made by Diego Rivera, Frida Khalo, and Salvador Dali. In all of my years of education, no one had or has to this day ever cared as much as him. I think while I had an amazing experience with this teacher, it says a lot about what I didn’t have with the other 20 teachers I’d had before him who didn’t look or speak like me.
I have been in school for over 16 years now and I have yet to encounter a teacher as dedicated as him. Because of him I was able to show and express interest in Chicanx Studies when I got into UC Berkeley. He was able to teach, and share about himself while taking the time to learn about us. An exercise I’ll never forget was in my AP Spanish class my junior year before the pandemic as fluency practice: every Monday he’d make us speak about our weekends, allowing him to see us as people with outside lives while also improving our speaking skills, this was also possible as it was a rare 17 student classroom.
It took over 25 teachers for me to not only feel supported, but also represented. With proper funding, I would’ve had less substitute teachers and more permanent teachers that weren’t leaving for a better paying school district or in most cases; a private school. My classmates had similar experiences, and it’s not just difficult for the kids, but also the teachers that have to leave a space because it’s not financially supporting them or 40+ kids in one classroom is simply too much. Both staff and students in public schools deserve better.