Lifestyle: In Practice

Spanish lives in my hellos and goodbyes, in domino games with my tíos, in memories of piña coladas and mangú. I was the girl who stopped speaking Spanish at five, who traded merengue for iced coffee and skyscrapers, but still sneaks bachata into her cleaning playlists. Between two worlds, I write my rebellion in Spanglish. I am still Dominicana, even when I dream in English.

Uniform was optional, getting yelled at wasn’t. Field trips blurred together, but the joy was real—Taki fingers, shared earbuds, cracked bus seats. Then came the pleated skirts, shiny black shoes, and tuition that cost more than some made in a year. This is the story of both—where public school gave me heart, and private school handed me the rules.