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It was a new building, painted yellow, with a shingled roof that was not like the red tile of the school in Mazatlán.
What Miss Hopley said to us we did not know but we saw in her eyes a warm welcome and when she took off her glasses and straightened up she smiled wholeheartedly.
Then Miss Hopley did a formidable thing.
In that closet we were both discovering together the secrets of the English language and grieving together over the tragedies of Bo-Peep.
I had fallen in love with Miss Ryan.
It was easy for me to feel that becoming a proud American, as she said we should, did not mean feeling ashamed of being a Mexican.
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