‘Mrs. Algarin! Mrs. Algarin!’ I hear a small voice screaming through the wind across the parking lot as I exit my car. I turn around. I see him, this chunky wonderful little boy on his bike. It is an exceptionally cold day to ride a bike.
He wobbles and propels himself forward on his machine. The bike is a bright green hornet sheen. He uses training wheels; a third grader with training wheels. But then, he is new to all of this.
He’s landed here in the midst of a stranger world; the world of Campbell Street and urban chaos and the failing vagaries of public education. He comes from far, far away. So far, far away.
‘Good morning! How are you?’ I call out. ‘Yes’ he answers. His father, small in stature and bent over his phone, holding up mightily against the wind, this man who only recently resided in mountainous lands with the winds and skies of a thousand years, greets me carefully. ‘Good morning’.
I hold my breath as the little boy teeters on the edge of the sidewalk, coming far too close to the edge where cars slide quickly by. The drivers see him but it’s still unsettling for me to watch.
He speeds up, peddling as fast as his chubby legs will carry him and he careens into the school parking lot.
Now he’s to the right of me and I get a better look at him. He’s wrapped up well against the cold. He’s wearing trendy sneakers, a down jacket and he is riding that cool bike. This family appears to have blended quickly into the new and strange culture; for survival and pleasure.
‘Hello again!’ I say. ‘Is that a new bike?’ He looks directly at me and answers, ‘Yes!’ ‘Well I really like it” I answer. ‘Thank you’ he responds. So we have obviously made some progress with English.
I look back and wave to his Dad before I head to the entrance door; but he is still hunched over his phone, this man from the mountains and a thousand years.
The boy steers left with the bike, heading toward the fence which opens onto the playground; so, so close to where there was a deadly shooting last weekend.
‘See you later, alligator!’ I yell out and against the early morning dank and the cement and wind and the empty playground with the swings.
He is silent. Why would the teacher be talking about an alligator?
690 Saint Paul 