Free How Tía Lola Learned to Teach by Julia Álvarez

goes out to the driveway to warm up the car, Miguel and Juanita rush to their aunt’s side. “Please, Tía Lola, help us!” They explain what is going on.
    “I really want to go see Papi,” Miguel adds in his raspy voice.
    “But if you’re sick … I don’t know.” Tía Lola looks torn. She wants to take good care of her nephew, but she also doesn’t want to disappoint him.
    “I’m not sick at all, Tía Lola, I promise,” Miguel says desperately.
    “But your throat did look a little red. Let me check again.”
    Just then, Mami walks in the door, which leaves Tía Lola with no alternative. She can’t examine her nephew’s throat or she will give his secret away.
    “I suppose you can rest up at your father’s if you are catching a little cold,” Tía Lola whispers as she and her niece and nephew are putting on their coats.
    “I am not catching a cold,” Miguel whispers back.
    “What’s all the whispering about?” Mami wants to know, joining them in the mudroom. She looks suspiciously from one startled face to another.
    Juanita comes to the rescue again. “We just have afavor to ask you, Mami. Can we listen to Harry Potter on the way up to Burlington?” Mami has checked out the latest book in the series from the library.
    As they ride in silence, listening to the audiobook, Miguel is struck by this brilliant move on his sister’s part. If the CD were not playing, Mami would be peppering the backseat with nervous questions about their trip.
    When they are almost at the station, Mami turns the CD player off. She begins coaching them on how to make the bus transfers, what to do if one of them gets separated or lost. No doubt she is remembering their first trip to New York City with Tía Lola. Their aunt had gotten lost, and for several nerve-racking hours they had not been able to find her.
    “No te preocupes,” Tía Lola assures her. Mami is not to worry. “El que tiene boca llega a Roma.”
    If you have a mouth, you can get to Rome? “But we’re not going to Rome, Tía Lola.” Juanita looks baffled. “We’re going to New York City, remember?”
    “It’s an expression in Spanish, Nita,” Mami explains. “It means if you can talk, you can find your way anywhere. The reason Rome was chosen …” Mami drones on about the olden days, how the Spaniards ruled the world and the center of their Catholic religion was Rome.
    Miguel is relieved. When grown-ups get educational, they spare you having to talk. He closes his eyes, relaxed at last. That’s when he notices a slight, insignificant soreness at the back of his throat.
    It’s nothing, he thinks, dismissing it. But by the timethey arrive in New York City that evening and meet Papi and Carmen, Miguel is flagging. His throat is definitely sore.
    Tía Lola is upset with herself. “I should never have let you come.”
    “Tía Lola, it’s no use crying over spilled milk!” Juanita reminds her aunt.
    “What spilled milk?” Tía Lola looks around the floor of the big, crowded station. “I didn’t spill milk.”
    “Don’t worry, Tía Lola,” Carmen says, putting her arm around Miguel. “We’ll give him tons of TLC here!”
    Tía Lola wrinkles her nose. “TLC?” She must think it’s some sort of cough syrup, because she shakes her head. “I have my own recipe, a mint tea of yerbabuena with honey and cinnamon and cloves.”
    Oh brother! Miguel suddenly wishes that he were back home, tucked in his bed, with no one to bother him. When you aren’t feeling well, it’s hard to be patient with explanations or to get tender loving care from a stranger, even if she is destined to be your stepmother.

    All week long, Miguel stays home in Papi’s apartment. The first few days, he doesn’t mind at all because he feels miserable. On Tuesday night, his temperature spikes so high that even Papi, who usually believes that the best way to treat a fever is to give it the cold shoulder, wantsto take him to the hospital. But by Friday, Miguel feels