Pepe at School
Today when he passes Señor Buendía’s carpentry shop on Magnolia Street, the sweet smell of cedar reminds Pepe of his walks to school with his mother. The Francisco González Bocanegra primary school was three blocks away on Riva Palacios Street. The new world of children in the classroom thrilled him. They were exclusively boys in his first years; coeducation had been suspended by the conservative administra-tion in the Secretaría de Educación Pública. Pepe adored his first-grade teacher, Señorita Lucio. With her simple dress, clean nails, and neatly cropped hair, she was a model of cariño and intelligence and a mother to all the children who learned and bonded quickly. Once she came to the classroom crying, and the children all cried with her. He also liked his second-grade teacher, la Maestra Cabrera. These teachers were the chil-dren’s heroes, their mothers. “I learned to read very fast,” Pepe recalled,
“I looked forward to going to school every morning. I even wished there were classes on Saturday—not Sunday because that was the day for mass, the matinee, and radio programs.”
Pepe remembers the moral lessons of Cri- Cri more than he does those from his primary school textbooks, perhaps because Cri- Cri sang them in melodious, rhyming songs frequently repeated. Looking recently at a group of textbooks used in Mexico City schools in the mid-1940s, he noted that the textbooks preached similar virtues to those he learned
in his family, from Cri- Cri, and from the church: work, study, respect, prudence, punctuality, order, and savings; charity, tolerance, gratitude;
and, of course, cleanliness. He noted the familiar vices of laziness, an-ger, avarice, envy, disrespect, and imprudence.1 Perhaps the school gave special emphasis to certain values—work and application, cleanliness, health, and savings. It oriented virtuous behavior toward the nation and patriotism. Every Monday morning the children lined up for an elaborate ceremony in honor of the Mexican flag, replete with drums and bugles.
Clad in white, they bellowed the national anthem and O Santa Bandera!
In those years, the Secretaría de Educación Publica approved a variety of textbooks for use in Mexico City schools. Although Pepe has no clear memory of them, they speak to the transition in attitudes, affect, technol-ogies, and notions of citizenship that marked his childhood. They reflect the residual, dominant, and emerging sentiments he negotiated as a child and youth. Some, like those of Daniel Delgadillo and María Enriqueta Camarillo de Pereyra, had first been published at the beginning of the twentieth century. Others, like Guadalupe Cejudo’s Chiquillo, Carmen Norma’s Juanito y Rosita, and Carmen Basurto’s Mi patria were more recent. Looking at these texts in order of their original publication, we note a movement in emphasis from scarcity and class distinction to mobi-lization for progress and prosperity to be achieved through the dedicated energy of Mexican children in defense of their nation.2
The mobilization required the unity of children across social classes, converted into soldiers in the struggle for progress. They would, as il-lustrated in figure 3.1, march in a “round of harmony,” “children of the worker dressed in overalls, Indian children of the Sierra in their sandals
Figure 3.1. Illus-tration by Cesareo Sánchez, in Carmen Basurto, Mi patria, Libro tercero de lectura (Mexico City:
Editorial El Material Didáctico de Prof.
Carlos Rodriguez, n.d.), 212.
and their manta,” together with “rich children.” 3 They joined a universal march as peace, technology, good government, and good will promised unity, health, and prosperity among the world’s peoples, regardless of race or nationality.4
This upbeat, optimistic, universalist vision came out of the horrors of World War II and the corrective formation of the United Nations. The vision contrasted with that put forward by Daniel Delgadillo in Saber leer. In his text, a voyager encountered a big rock he could not move. He despaired that he would die for lack of food. Others came, tried, and de-spaired, until they realized that together they could move the rock. “The voyage is life, the rock is the misery one encounters on the way.” 5 In the newer texts, the march continued, but “misery” lost out to fascinating challenges and expansive possibilities. In the Delgadillo reader, children flew kites. In the Basurto reader, they could imagine flying in an airplane to Buenos Aires or Istanbul or Indochina. Pepe imagined those airplanes.
He saw them in the sky, gliding over Mexico City trailing advertisements for Pepsi- Cola. And he saw them in the movies—in the newsreels, the fa-mous Mexican Squadron 201 that flew in the Philippines in World War II, and in the matinees, Flash Gordon’s fantastic spaceship.
Like Cri- Cri, the textbooks celebrated the magic, bounty, and beauty of nature but with subtle differences over time. The older texts empha-sized natural dangers (turbulent seas, storms, predatory animals).6 Tech-nology was not much more than a promise. Moreover, science might be mistaken. In Delgadillo’s Saber leer, an old woman’s donkey knew better than two eminent meteorologists that it would rain.7 In the newer texts, nature not only provided (urban) children with an affective experience of physical exuberance, wonder, beauty, and caring (for animals, flowers, and trees), it produced sustenance linked to new technologies. As nature became more benign and romanticized, it also became more instrumen-tal. Chickens and cows produced meat; trees provided fruit and wood to burn; water produced electricity and made the crops grow.8 Trains and trucks brought the bounty to the city. In his text Adelante, Delgadillo was unsure of the advantages of the “dangerous” city over the “tranquil”
countryside.9 His ambiguity may have reflected his desire to reach a broad audience of children in countryside and city. However, text writer Ba-surto was certain that the city was the emporium of modernity and prog-ress.10 Outside Mexico City (other Mexican cities might be included), life was backward and blighted by poverty despite the countryside’s role in providing the cities’ sustenance. Textbooks pictured the humble shepherd boy tending his flock or the lone campesino waiting for the rain to
culti-vate his tiny milpa.11 There were no rural communities and no mention of the land reform that had been carried out in the preceding decades. In-digenous peoples were represented as very poor, as folkloric, or as grand princes of a once great Mesoamerican civilization.12
Nor did the textbooks make mention of individual or collective rights in these years of conservative pushback against the militancy of workers and peasants and the redistributive reforms implemented in the 1920s and 1930s. Gone were the socialist texts of the 1930s that celebrated indus-trial laborers and agrarian reform beneficiaries in collective production.
In the 1940s, the collective became the entire nation.13 Individual freedom was to be exercised and won through the mobilization of all Mexican children, hand in hand, respecting each other in the struggle for a “new life” without exploitation, oppression, humiliation, or racism.14 Defensive nationalism cradled this quest for individual liberty. “Think of the heroic men who fought so bravely so that no foreigner will rob you of liberty and the right to happiness,” wrote Basurto.15 Oh, how Pepe learned about the burning feet of the Aztec prince Cuauhtémoc as he resisted the torture of the invading Spanish! The Niños Héroes (“child heroes”), Pepe remem-bers, were every bit a “doctrine” in these years, particularly the young soldier Juan Escutia, who allegedly leaped to his death wrapped in the Mexican flag to save it from capture by the invading Americans in 1847.
Later Pepe’s brother Efrén, nine years his junior, would tell him that the stories of the Niños Héroes—particularly that of Juan Escutia—were all a big myth propagated by the government, but for Pepe and undoubtedly other children of his age they were instructive models.
The Niños Héroes and the children of mid-1940s were linked in a pro-cess of becoming—not only of the nation but, for contemporary children, of the individual, of life rather than death, of development rather than sacrifice, of peace rather than war. The texts exhorted the student to de-velop his or her individual talents and skills, to cultivate mind and body, not simply for national but for individual empowerment. Mobility would come from one’s application, not so much from the generosity and charity highly placed individuals showed to the poor and unfortunate in the older textbooks. In Daniel Delgadillo’s Saber leer, a magnanimous hacendado gave a piece of land to a humble Indian who had done him a favor. In the Basurto textbook, the hacendado left his land exclusively to his most thrifty, productive son.16 Delgadillo in his textbooks showed sensitivity toward misfortune as the creator of poverty. Misfortune called for acts of charity toward the fruit vendor who had gone blind, the old person who had fallen sick, the abandoned elderly lady, the physically handicapped
child.17 The newer texts focused on individual effort and productivity;
they rarely pictured the weak, disabled, or old.
The newer textbooks suggest a trending of the idea of charity toward cariño, a more private, intimate sentiment of endearment expressed and practiced within the context of the family and the school—between par-ents and children, between siblings, friends, and classmates, between children and their ubiquitous pets, between teachers and students. These educating sites taught and disciplined with cariño. Although the text featured families and homes from different social classes, the ideal mode of conduct was vested in the middle-class family.18 It was a nuclear family consisting of parents and children, without grandparents, aunts, uncles, or cousins. Their home was “an oasis of love.”19 It was ample and un-crowded: children had their own bedrooms.20 The house was set in a walled-off garden without a neighborhood, distinct from Pepe’s life on Lerdo Street. As in Cri- Cri’s songs, the mother was all sacrifice (abne
gación) caring for home and children. “The future of the child is the work of the mother,” declared a text.21 The father wore a suit and tie and often carried a cane. The provider and protector of the family, he was author-itative and distant. Children did not sit on his lap as he relaxed from a hard day’s work in his easy chair, but they did gratefully wait upon him.
He was attentive to them. He gave them presents when they were good and took them to the circus to see the animals and the clowns, to Cha-pultepec Park to play, and to the pyramids at Teotihuacán to appreciate their history.
Looking at the textbook illustrations today, Pepe exclaimed, “They look French!” Even the children in the drawing of the march of progress shared the same Caucasian features, ignoring Mexico’s racial diversity.
These textbook children certainly looked different from Pepe and his classmates. (Figures 3.2–3.5 juxtapose Pepe’s fourth-grade class picture with illustrations from different texts.) Yet Pepe does not recall the text-books or the school program as having marked him with class or, more importantly for his own sensitivity, with racial anxieties. He recalls the sting of Cri- Cri’s Negrito Sandía and racial slurs in the vecindad but nothing from the textbooks. Rather, he suffered from his classmates’ teas-ing him for his homemade britches and his own shame and discomfort at having to wear the oversized shoes his father bought him so that they would last as he grew. “They were like miner’s shoes and people called me
‘Tribeline’ after a character from Walt Disney who had huge shoes.” But the social circumstances of children who teased him were similar to his.
If we look closely at the illustrations and the stories in the texts, this
ideal family appears like a device more for teaching habits, sentiments, and aspirations than an insensitive imposition on those less privileged.
Its modest presentation seems deliberate. The furnishings are few, a din-ing table, a comfortable chair, a child’s bed. The mother often wears an apron and, upon occasion, a rebozo. She sews, she prepares and serves the meals.22 There is no servant. The children’s toys are simple, many of them homemade or bought at a market stall: kites, balls, tops, dolls, marbles, a jump rope, a hobbyhorse that is a broomstick with a floppy head of cloth and straw.23 Children might bathe in a metal tub in cold water, although Basurto’s child had the luxury of a porcelain bathtub fed by warm water from a showerhead.24 A few show more elaborate, store-bought toys: cam-eras, toy automobiles and trucks, and fancy dolls.25 These became more common in the textbooks of the 1950s.
But if in texts in the 1940s children’s consumption was modest, it had also become a right, an entitlement, an integral part of their development.
Children were no longer naturally wayward creatures in need of disci-pline as they were in the older readers; they were instead to be nurtured and protected—only then would they become “sanos, fuertes, alegres.” 26 They had a right to dream of the gifts they wanted to receive on the Día de los Reyes and a right to the gifts if they had been well behaved.27 They ex-pected their parents to take them to the circus, festivals, and parks.28 They expected their teachers to open the world for them. It was proper to play:
through play they learned and developed their minds, senses, bodies, and
Figure 3.2. Pepe is at the far left in the second row. Black-and-white photograph, 1947.
Figure 3.3. Chiquillo’s friends. Illustrator unknown, in Guadalupe Cedujo, Chiquillo, Libro de lectura oral para segundo año (Mexico City: S. Turanzas del Valle, 1943), 37.
Figure 3.4. Mama of Rosito and Juanito. Illustrator unknown, from Carmen Norma, Rosita y Juanito, 9th ed. (Mexico City: Ediciones Aguilas, 1953), 12.
values. Through the doctor, the dentist, the teacher, the mother, and their own efforts, their bodies grew healthy, strong, and beautiful.
The privatization of cariño in the texts was complemented by the pro-jection of empathy outward to the nation and even the world. The newer texts identified children as part of a crusade for global peace and pros-perity. As the child developed him- or herself, the newer texts stressed the facilitating role of the government, which provided infrastructure and opportunity: firemen and policemen guaranteed order and safety;
the Red Cross, medical clinics, scientists combated contagious diseases, and sanitary officers promoted health; schools and museums furthered education. It depended upon the individual to rise to the occasion, to take advantage of new opportunities. Basurto so exhorted in her essay entitled
“The Staircase”:
When you look at me, think of your life. I want you to see your life as a ladder. . . . ! You go up, stair by stair, with firm steps! Go
Figure 3.5. Illustrator unknown, in Daniel Delgadillo, Poco a poco, Libro segundo, 40th ed. (Mexico City: Herrero Hermanos, 1943).
up with your ideas and your feelings! Absorb what you are taught, correct your defects, try to be more worthy and a little better every day. . . . Each year you will feel yourself taller because of your mer-its. When you are big, for having cared for your body, you will feel big as well for having climbed the staircase of life and you will find yourself at the height of goodness.29
For the striving child, the future opened wide: “Think about those today who are good professionals, industrialists, merchants, and excellent workers; to be successful later, they were active and studious from child-hood.” 30 That is, the future opened wide primarily for boys. They were the “soldiers” marching toward progress in the first illustration. They were the Niños Héroes. They were the appointed producers of history and goods. Girls continued to be essential background sentiment and house-hold caretakers, but as girls received similar schooling to that of boys, they moved forward in these years, negotiating a difficult but potentially creative contradiction.
Pepe was fortunate not to have to grapple with this contradiction.
What immediately enchanted him about school was akin to Basurto’s staircase: the school’s encouragement of individual application and per-formance. The mastery of skill depended on the development of good habits: punctuality, persistence, patience, and study. Listening to Cri- Cri awakened mind, body, and senses, but listening did not require their co-ordinated application. Neither did it produce the joy of personal achieve-ment. Nor could his parents excite Pepe’s desire to apply himself: “They made me sew shoulder pads and hem skirts. I hated it. I cried. At school, I would draw. I excelled at it. By drawing, I learned the capitals of the Mex-ican states and the insects and animals of nature. My teachers loved my work and my friends offered me candy and notebooks if I would do their drawings for them.” He did their drawings with pleasure. He did not see it as subverting the rules but rather as part of the warm camaraderie among the students. He took great pride in the prize he won for his drawing of Benito Juárez as a shepherd boy. He submitted it to the contest held in conjunction with the festival honoring Juárez’s birthday.
As for cultivating new habits, Pepe got himself a piggy bank and opened a savings account where he deposited some of the proceeds from his drawings, his domingos from his parents and his Tía Antonia, and what he earned emptying the neighbors’ garbage. Although his father told him, “Man’s best friend is a peso in the pocket,” his father’s practice fell short of his preaching. His parents did not use a bank, and it was their
lack of savings, he judged, that forced his mother to go to the Monte de Piedad. With his savings account, Pepe intended to avoid the shame he felt in the long lines at the pawnshop. His cousin Nicolás mocked him.
He called him Rico Mac Pato, after Donald Duck’s avaricious uncle. Al-though his best friend, Nico was also Pepe’s foil, the negative against which he measured his own development. Nico never saved a centavo. He lost the little he had gambling at cards. To cover his debts, he borrowed from his grandmother, Petrona. She charged interest.
Pepe’s primary-school teachers were critical to his performance: the cariño and discipline of his first maestras, the discipline and radical ex-hortations to patriotic service of his later male teachers. By and large, Pepe’s primary school had abandoned practices of corporal punishment.
That is why the children were shocked speechless one day when their beloved first-grade teacher, Señorita Lucio, lost her temper. As she wrote on the blackboard, a child challenged her: “You forgot to put the dot on the i.” “I am the teacher and you are not here to teach me,” she retorted sharply. She ordered the child to pile furniture on a table, then she
That is why the children were shocked speechless one day when their beloved first-grade teacher, Señorita Lucio, lost her temper. As she wrote on the blackboard, a child challenged her: “You forgot to put the dot on the i.” “I am the teacher and you are not here to teach me,” she retorted sharply. She ordered the child to pile furniture on a table, then she