Soledad on the Blue Line

Soledad rides the Blue Line from her apartment in Logan Square to the Loop where she works in the lobby of an office building selling coffee and the kinds of things you might want with your coffee - bagels and donuts and muffins. Sweet, doughy things. I haven't been to her stand - I know the building, I walk by it on the way to work but I haven't stopped in. The only time I have talked to her is on the train - on the Blue Line that I've recently switched to while the Brown Line is under construction.

I've been curious about her age. She has grandchildren - three, I think. But that doesn't help me much with her age. I'm guessing she's around sixty but I could be off by ten years. There isn't much gray. It's just hard to tell. One of her grandchildren's name is Marie. Next year Marie will start high school and Soledad is worried because it won't be one of the better public schools where there is hope for college and a better job than selling coffee to the office workers who can afford it.

I think if I save a little more she can go to a Catholic school, Soledad told me. But Marie wants to go the public school with her friends. Maybe she doesn't want to take her grandmother's money. Maybe she has a boyfriend. Maybe he's a banger. I hope not.

Catholic schools are better, yes? she asked me. I didn't know what to say. I could have said that I taught for a year in a Catholic high school in Chicago (I won't mention its name). I went in as a sub teaching English and typing. My major wasn't English and I couldn't type - I could peck around a bit, but I couldn't type. When the teacher who I was filling in for decided not to return from her nervous breakdown, the principal asked me to finish the year. I explained that I didn't really know what I was doing teaching those classes but she pressed on saying how much the students liked me which since I didn't know what I was doing was probably true.

So I stayed. I still remember one student, a boy who was disruptive and never turned in his work. I spent a lot of time out in the hall with him. After a few weeks of this a teacher pulled me aside and said, You know he can't read, don't you? Well, no, I didn't know that, but it explained a lot. They keep passing him through because they need the tuition. That's just how it is, she explained.

My teaching career didn't last very long. I guess I wasn't cut out for it. But I survived that year in the Catholic high school. I guess the students did too.

I told Soledad that, yes, Catholic schools are better. Maybe some are.