On Teaching

 

After 20 years in the corporate world, you get sick and tired of all the bullshit. It's the main reason why I started looking for volunteering opportunities online to teach English learners from the Ukraine and Gaza in my free time -- I'd reached the end of my rope.

And when the company I recently joined decided to invest more than 1 billion dollars on their own generative AI tool, and then I found myself writing less and less but acting more and more as a "prompt engineer," admin assistant, and glorified project manager, I finally saw the writing on the wall. I needed to move farther from what was stressing me out -- the corporate world itself, and Artificial "Intelligence" (which was, evidently, starting to remove me -- and quite a number of my fellow writers out there -- from the equation).

It dawned on me -- I'd been teaching English online to students from other countries for quite some time now. Why not teach English full-time to Mexicans as well? The human element has been disappearing from my corporate job; why not switch careers and rediscover what it means to be human in this world where the machines are starting to take over?

So I traded the cubicle for the classroom. And guess what? I haven't felt this good in a long time.

Teacher Mark reporting for duty.

Señor Manuel

This was me with Señor Manuel many years ago, when I first visited Mexico. Coming from a tropical country where the summer heat can literally kill you, I wasn't used to the relative cold of Mexico City in winter, and you can see the difference here in the way we were dressed -- it's hilarious. 

He took me out one evening, along with my wife, Diana -- his youngest daughter -- to the best taqueria in town.I didn't speak a lick of Spanish at that time, and it was a pleasant surprise when Señor Manuel spoke to me in fluent English after graciously playing the piano for me after dinner one night in their home. He talked to me about his career as a music teacher that spanned many decades, and it never failed to amaze me to hear stories from his own former students -- many of whom would still call him on his birthday or on Christmas day after all these years -- about how inspiring a teacher he was to them. Some of these students we would chance upon on the street while we were walking around the neighborhood -- to a nearby café or to church -- and they'd speak to him animatedly, with genuine joy, while fondly calling him "Maestro." It was awe-inspiring.

Señor Manuel has been the closest to a second father to me here in Mexico. It was a pleasure to finally speak with him in his native language the past several years as my Spanish improved. I particularly remember that time when he could still walk on his own, and we were in the well-manicured -- thanks to my mother-in-law, Señora Mary -- garden of his home on a pleasant spring day. He talked of his children and how he was proud of the people they've become. He made sure his son and daughters finished their studies because he didn't have any material wealth to leave them.

What he'll leave them is a legacy of a decent, hardworking man who made sure his family wanted for nothing. A father, husband, and brother who was always there when it counted. A mentor and friend who was quick with sage advice when it was sought out, and it was sought out frequently.

It hasn't been an easy past few years for my father-in-law, someone who still enjoyed walking and playing music in his retirement years, someone who loved driving cars as much as he admired them, someone who actually bought his own small plane many years ago and learned how to fly it -- eventually inspiring his only son to want to become a pilot.

But while his body deteriorated, his spirit never wavered. He couldn't play the piano anymore, or walk -- much less drive -- but he could still tell his stories. And boy, could the man tell stories. He has a published book of those stories -- those memories of many years ago -- and it will be an honor to finally read it -- in Spanish.

His stories -- from him, and about him -- are all we have now. But that's enough. For someone who lived his life the way my father-in-law lived his, that's more than enough.

Descanse en paz, Señor Manuel. Gracias por recibirme con los brazos abiertos y permitirme formar parte de su hermosa familia.