The bus station clock was threatening to strike seven when we arrived in Tuxtla.  Our group disintegrated as soon as our feet touched pavement.
 Angie departed to discover what had become of her luggage in the sleazy hotel where she had checked in two days earlier.  She bought a ticket for the next departure to San Cristobal de las Casas before leaving the bus station which meant she had less than an hour to find it.
     Catalina instantly befriended some bewildered-looking foreigners.  No doubt she would soon be escorting them to a hotel.  She was lucky enough to step from the bus right into her place of work.
     Roger, Maria, and I needed to cover the distance to school.  My bare-chested teaching partner had run into the street and stopped a cab to take us there directly, but Maria refused to accompany us, insisting on such unnecessary niceties as clean clothes and a shower.  Being a gentleman, Roger let her have the taxi but not before extorting from her a t-shirt.  Maria was the only one of us who had been traveling with luggage, but that consisted of only a single change of clothing.  Thus, the only garment she could offer him was a small white blouse that she had worn the day before.  It had looked sensational on her, tightly hugging her slender torso, but Roger’s masculine frame stretched the fabric completely out of proportion.  The design of two black hand prints that had been positioned so provocatively over Maria’s breasts became grotesque clubbed paws near Roger’s neckline.  The blouse was of inadequate size to cover his entire body; consequently, unsightly body hair was put into evidence around his belly button and at both armpits.
     My appearance was nearly as ragged, faithfully indicating that I hadn’t bathed with soap or changed my clothes in three days.  Indeed, I was wearing the same same clothes that I wore to work on Friday.  The image I was projecting wasn’t the most appropriate one in which to attempt reconciliation with Don Cristian, but being a victim of American socialization I shared Roger’s obsession with punctuality.  Furthermore, it would be dangerous to let my rival arrive without me.  My future as a teacher at Public School Number Three had become tenuous with his arrival in Tuxtla Gutierrez.  Circumstances had made the two of us inseparable.
 Don Cristian, as I had anticipated, took an inordinate interest in my appearance when Roger and I charged into the administration building.  “Roger,” he called out to me.  “Please step into my office.”
     Once we were in privacy, he asked me to sit down.  He examined me slowly from head to toe and maintained a silence that left me suffering in agony.  Finally, he made a gesture.  He stretched out his hand to congratulate me.
     “Roger Panker, I see you very much improved.  Frankly, you were overdue for a haircut, but I never dreamed you would be willing to do it so thoroughly.  Your beard is cut back so much, it looks as if it were only three days growth.”
     “Thank you,” I responded with forced calmness.  “It’s important for me to project an image that is customary of teachers in Chiapas.”
     “Quite right.  Which leads me to the issue of your attire.  Perhaps in Arizona teachers dress more casually than here, but since the subject has been brought up, I’d like to mention that dress shoes are the norm and that rubber beach sandals are rarely acceptable.  Furthermore, let me suggest dress slacks instead of faded blue jeans, and dress shirts in place of t-shirts that say, ‘I’m with stupid’.  What’s more, you would present a more professional image if you arrived at work with your clothes clean and neat, preferably freshly donned and not something you slept in all night.”
     His case was presented so politely and respectfully that I couldn’t help but agree.  I thanked him for the suggestions.
 The principal continued, “It wasn’t my intention to be intrusive, but when your clothes were washed at my house, I couldn’t help seeing your entire wardrobe on the clothesline.  You completely lack anything I would consider professionally appropriate.”
     Truth was I felt offended.  I concentrated hard to try to recollect at least one example to contradict Don Cristian’s assertion.  The only thing that came to mind was socks and I told him that I owned a pair of dark ones.
     His face, which had projected nothing but goodwill during our interview, suddenly transfigured into bewilderment.  Perhaps he thought my comment to be trivial, or maybe he didn’t consider that I had appropriately classified my gray woolens.
     “Roger, I have a proposition for you.  My new brother-in-law teaches math at the preparatory school downtown.  He recently put on a great deal of weight.  He just inflated himself like a dirigible.  Anyway, after I spoke to him, he agreed to loan you his work clothes for the time you’re here in Chiapas.  He hopes to fit back in them some day, but frankly, it’s unlikely because of the way he packs in the vittles.  They say newlyweds always gain weight.  Are you interested, Roger, in using his clothes?”
     “Yes, thank you.”  I was feeling a genuine excitement for dressing myself as a teacher.  Don Cristian once again treated me with generosity when I considered myself undeserving.
     “Do me a favor,” he said kindly.  “Take off that stinky outfit and find something decent to put on.  I took the liberty of bringing the clothes to school for you.”
 The shirts and pants were all cleaned and ironed.  They hung on hangers and were folded across the back of a chair ready for my inspection.  I proudly selected a spotless pair of white slacks and white long sleeve shirt.  There was no clean underwear at my disposal, but I reversed the pair I was wearing to approximate the sensation.  It felt great to be dressed up.  It was the first time I had felt so good about being dressed up in formal clothes since ballroom dancing lessons in junior high school.
     My benefactor discreetly had his back turned to me while I dressed but declared that he had two important questions to ask me.  “Do you intend to continue staying at my house?  And who is that strangely-dressed guy who walked in with you?
     Nothing would have made me happier than to surrender myself again to the kindness of Don Cristian, but I could not subject myself to the shame I would feel accepting gratuitously his hospitality while maintaining the pretense of having my pockets stuffed with dollars.  Furthermore, the invitation had always been directed to Roger Panker, an identity I was in danger of losing now that the genuine individual had made his appearance in Tuxtla Gutierrez.  I had hoped to sustain my deception and remain teaching in the classroom by keeping Roger out of sight and away from the school, but he apparently wished to replace me as the classroom instructor and use me only as an aide in some inconsequential capacity.  Having neglected to negotiate precisely with Roger our professional relationship, I decided to take the liberty to define it to the principal in a way that best suited me.
     The school secretary already believed he was my friend and namesake, so it seemed expedient to present the same scenario to Don Cristian.  It was a risky strategy, but I was feeling pressured to respond to Don Cristian’s pair of questions.  An elaborate lie occurred to me that could satisfy him on both counts.  It was fortunate that he was turned away from me.  Having elected to incriminate myself with additional lies, my face burned red with shame.  If I had been looking into the eyes of the man who I esteemed as my great mentor, it would have been impossible for me to communicate falsehoods.  Likely, I would have broken down in tears, confessing everything, begging him for forgiveness and to allow me to continue at the school in any capacity he thought me worthy.  Speaking to his back, however, my conscience was left unrestrained, and I fell into temptation.  I told him some whoppers.
     “I’m sorry I won’t be able to stay with you any longer.  That man in the lobby is a friend of mine who has come down to live with me for the duration of the exchange.  We've rented an apartment together.  You won’t believe what his name is.”  I laughed woodenly, having intended to make it sound spontaneous.  “Roger Panker.”
     “Really,” responded Don Cristian in monotone.
     That’s right.  We have the same name.  We used to get each other’s mail when we were students at Arizona State.  That’s how we met.”
     “I see,” said the principal in a neutral voice that still did nothing to betray the degree to which he was believing me.  I had already jumped into the pool; there was no option for me but to continue swimming.  I hoped I wasn’t drowning.
     “It turns out we have a great deal in common besides our name.  We became best friends.  We’ve been inseparable ever since.  That’s why he took a leave of absence to be here with me.”
     “He’s also a teacher?”
     “Oh yes.  He’s the person who persuaded me to change my college major to education.  After graduation we were able to get jobs at the same school.”
     “It’s funny that you two are such good friends, but you never mentioned anything about him.  I only remember you talking about a girlfriend you left behind.”
     “Well, that’s natural.  Roger is a good friend, but I don ‘t miss him in the same way as a woman.”  I winked exaggeratedly as if to make it audible because, of course, Don Cristian couldn’t see me with his back turned.  “Lydia may also come to visit me.” I added.
     “Very good,” he said.  “Perhaps Maria, the secretary would be willing to have her stay in her apartment.  The poor girl lives all alone.  Her family is in Yajalón.”
     “No, she’ll stay with me,” I answered automatically.  It was a shock to the conservative educator who had only made a plausible suggestion to what he saw as a potential housing problem.
     “Of course,” he answered uncomfortably.  “I had forgotten that Americans have more relaxed standards of moral conduct.  You know, virginity is still seen as a virtue for unmarried women in Mexico.  It’s important, at least, to maintain the appearance of chastity.”
     It was my turn to be surprised.  “What a disappointment!” I said aloud and then became embarrassed by the implications of my own outburst.  Surely, the courtship practices in Mexico didn’t effect me personally.  Why should I have felt it necessary to respond that way?
     “Roger plans to assist me in the classroom, if you’ll grant your permission of course.”
     “How fortunate,” he responded with deliberate slowness.  “We’ll have two foreign teachers instead of one.”
     “We’re used to teaching as a team,” I explained, “and he likes to stay active in the profession.  My friend will get bored if he’s not in the classroom.”
     “Does he always dress so strangely to go to work?”
     “I’m sure he would be willing to change his shirt for one of these.”
     “Very good,” he answered.
     I was finally dressed, and we stepped out together into the reception area.  Once again in two weeks span Don Cristian greeted Roger Panker with a hug, only this time it was the genuine article.
     “Welcome to Public School Number Three, Roger Panker.  It’s a pleasure to have you here.”
     The American man opened his mouth and would have doubtless vocalized an appropriate greeting if the Spanish vocabulary had been readily available to him.  After an awkward interval, he finally muttered, “Hola Amigo.”  Thus, his fluency in Spanish became suspect.
     “Sorry, no English,” responded the principal with nervous laughter.  Turning to me he said, “I was afraid that our foreign teacher would be as language deficient as your friend.  It’s fortunate that you are completely fluent.  It would have been a disaster for us.”
     The administrative assistant came over to inform Don Cristian that it was time for the flag ceremony.  Roger and I followed them outside to the basketball courts where the entire student population was waiting in formation in their tidy pink uniforms.  The group that I was supposed to have been teaching was there, showing no visible disappointment for having missed their time with me.  The image of clean-cut professionalism that I projected in my new clothing contrasted with the buffoon-like appearance of my American partner.  Needless to say, Roger made an unfavorable impression on the assembled staff and students when Don Cristian introduced him.  Roger was unaffected by the audible laughter.  He was beaming with pride, expanding his chest so that it pressed even more tightly against the confining blouse.  Roger never suspected that he had been introduced as my assistant.  He had assumed he was being restored to his legitimate position as exchange teacher.
     There was time for Roger to put on one of the clean dress shirts before entering our eight o’clock class, but I was afraid, nevertheless, that his presence would be a disturbance.
     “Oh no!  We’re going to have to break in a new teacher,” called out one boy.
     “Be respectful!” commanded Lucy from her seat in the front row while Roger cast a severe glance in the direction of the offending student.  His expression was severe enough that the entire class recoiled.  Silence smothered them all.  As a purely reflex reaction, they pulled themselves to attention, projecting the same illusion of attentiveness that they had for me on the first day of class.
     Roger kept his mouth closed tightly and maintained vigilant visual contact as he stepped across the front of the classroom and sat down behind the solitary teacher’s desk.  It was no bigger than a TV tray, but even so, it was the only prestigious place to sit.  I crammed myself into a tiny wooden student desk.  I was more than happy to cede him my chair after seeing the change in the students’ behavior.
     “I don’t know what he said, but I didn’t like his tone of voice,” said to me confidentially.
     “How did you get them to be so quiet?” I asked.
     “A teacher should never smile before Christmas.  It’s important to set a precedent of strictness upon starting a new school year.  You can always loosen your expectations for behavior later on, but it’s impossible to get more strict with them once the students are already out of control.”
     Roger addressed the class in English.  “There have been too many classroom transgressions of the code of conduct, and my purpose for coming here is to punish those who are guilty.”
     I translated, adopting the same authoritarian tone of voice as my partner.  It was unclear what the punishment would be, but the students were cowed nonetheless.
     “What are the classroom rules?” he asked me.
     “Well, I’ve never actually specified them.”
     “That’s too bad.  It’s better to have them written down and posted on the wall.”
     “I travel to seven different rooms and each one is shared by all the teachers.  They may not appreciate me hogging up the wall space.”
     “At least you could photocopy the rules and have the students keep them in their three-ring binders.”
     “There’s no copy machine here.”
     “How do the teachers hand out work?” he asked me incredulously.
     “They dictate it and the students write it in their wire-bound notebooks.”
     “I see,” he told me.  Then speaking to the students he said, “I will dictate the classroom rules.  Please get ready to write them down.”
     There was a groan heard from from the group when I translated the instructions.  Roger chose to give them a stern redress.
     “Rules are necessary to have order and so that students can learn.  I don’t care if you find it unpleasant.  You have no alternative.”
     Again, I translated, mimicking his tone of voice.
     To me, he said, “Sometimes, I have students make up their own rules, but it’s a slow process.  We need to get on with our lesson.”  He quickly wrote down a list of five rules as he spoke.  I wrote the Spanish translation beneath them while he continued his explanation to me.  “Classroom norms should be positive statements that serve as models for desired behavior.  Negative statements only serve to bring to the students’ attention specific prohibited activities and may actually tempt them to indulge in them, taking into account the frequently perverse nature of adolescents.”
     Roger dictated to the children in their own language reading my translation.  His accent was lamentable, but no one dared giggle.
     “Rule number one.  Listen quietly while the teacher is speaking.
     “Number two.  Participate in all classroom activities to the best of your ability.
     “Number three.  Come to class with your textbook, pencil, and notebook.
     “Number four.  Respect the physical integrity of other people.
     “Number five.  Dispose of food and gum before entering the classroom.
     Roger switched to English and I translated for him.  “Many of you in this room are guilty of breaking the rules.  Expect your retribution.”  Spinning around to point at a boy near the door, Roger proclaimed gravely, “You’re guilty of breaking rule number one.”  It was a good guess, but then, nearly every student had made his or her contribution to the offending din of the previous two weeks.
     Identifying a tall girl with wavy hair he proclaimed, “You’re guilty of breaking rule number two.”  She hid her face in shame.  It was true that she could have completed her cartoon assignment more conscientiously, but she wasn’t the only one who suffered that doubt.
     “You’re guilty of breaking rule number three,” he said to a girl who had entered the classroom empty-handed.  She silently vowed to come prepared in the future.
 Placing his hand on one boy’s shoulder, he proclaimed, “You’re guilty of violating rule number four.”
     “It’s not true,” the student blurted out.  “I haven’t hurt anyone.”
     Concentrate child and you’ll remember what you did.”  Roger wasn’t about to let truthfulness interfere with the accumulating drama of his presentation.  The boy’s protests were stifled by the reproaching glances of his classmates who were now convinced that the gringo teacher had supernatural powers to divine their culpability.  Finally, the student abandoned his own defense having remembered an incident on the soccer field when he had knocked down another player.
     Roger then indicated the guilt of a plump girl devouring a sandwich from the snack bar.  “You’re blatantly guilty of violating rule number five.”
     “It’s not fair,” she cried out.  “I brought this sandwich into the classroom before you gave us the dictation.  You can’t punish us for anything we did before you gave us the rules.”
     Roger was momentarily stunned when I translated her comment, but he quickly recovered his composure.  “Tell her to save that question for the lesson on ex post facto laws.  In our circumstances, her complaint is invalid.  The students all should have known that your conduct was inappropriate.  There is a way, however, to escape punishment.”
     “Tell us how,” several of them called out at once.
     “I’m not sure that it would be wise.
     “I don’t want to be punished,” said the fat girl.  “Please tell me how I can get out of it.”  Many other students used body language to communicate their conformity with her request.
     “It’s expensive,” he warned them.
     “Are you asking for a bribe?” inquired the tall girl.
     “It’s not exactly a bribe it’s an opportunity to buy indulgences.”
     The students sat perplexed.
     Roger continued, “An indulgence is a piece of paper like this one.”  He ripped a page from a notebook he had with him.  “There is a message written on it that forgives the owner of the paper for committing sin.”
     “Is misbehavior a sin?” someone asked.
     “Did I say sin?  I meant that it forgives them for breaking a rule.  For instance, this one says, ‘The bearer is forgiven for chewing gum in class.’”  The paper actually contained some feeble lines of Roger’s own poetry, but that detail was unimportant to the students because they couldn’t read English anyway.
     “I’m selling it for ten pesos,” said Roger.
     The interest of the students quickly dissipated.  Those few who had that quantity were thinking it would be better spent on candy.
     “What will you do with the money?” one boy demanded.
     “Don’t worry.  It’s for a good cause: a library for the school.”
     “You’ll need mountains of money to build a library,” one girl commented skeptically.
     “You’re right.  That’s why I have lots of indulgences to sell.  And I can always make more.  Here is one that forgives fighting.  Thirty pesos.  This one is for students who come to class without a book.  Fifteen pesos.”
     The girl who had no book looked sadly away.  It was more than she could afford.  “Indulgences are unfair,” she called out.  “The students who have money won’t be punished.”
     “Well, what do you think should happen to students who break the rules?”
     “The teacher should forgive us, and we’ll promise not to be bad again,” she said hopefully.
     “Students who break the rules should be punished,” said another.  “It’s not fair that the ones with money should avoid the consequences of their actions.”
     The entire class agreed that indulgences were unjust.
     Roger put on a pensive face as if their opinions surprised him.  “What then do you think should happen to teachers who sell indulgences?”
     “They should be fired,” said one student near the back.  The implication was that Roger should be fired, but he didn’t take it personally.  It was all part of his plan.
     “Let’s say the teacher can’t be fired,” he answered calmly.
     “Then the students should quit their school and form another,” someone answered.
     “A new school!  Did you say you’d form a new school?  With whose authority?  How will you make your school legitimate?”  Roger began pacing in front of the classroom, pretending to be perturbed.  He spoke as if to himself but really for the benefit of the students.
     “I knew I shouldn’t have mentioned indulgences.  It’s not the first time there has been resistance to that idea.  Why didn’t I learn from history?  If it didn’t work for Pope Leo, why should it work for me?”
     Some of the brighter students began to suspect that the new teacher had tricked them into learning something about history.  Others sat confused, but curious, straining to comprehend.
     “Are you really determined to form a new school?”
     “Yes,” came the answer from several students.
     “What if I promise to change?  I’ll do away with indulgences.  Will at least some of you decide to stay?”
     Roughly half the students raised their hand to signify that they would.
     “I’m happy to see that.  Together we’ll form a counter-reformation against those splitters, the ones who want to reform my classroom.”
 Lucia’s eyes widened.  It was as if she suddenly saw the profile of two faces instead of a picture of a goblet.  “The splitters are like the Lutherans who formed their own church.  Those of us who want to stay are like the Catholics of the Counter-Reformation.”  She may have been the only student who had paid attention to my ineffective lecture the week before.”
     “Yes, that’s right,” said Roger.  “The most divisive issue in the Reformation was indulgences.  The pope had authorized their sale to raise money to build St. Paul’s Cathedral in Rome.  People who bought indulgences had their sins automatically forgiven.  Some people even stockpiled them to be prepared for sins they might commit in the future.  Martin Luther was opposed to them.  He was a Catholic priest who taught Theology at The University of Wittenburg in Germany.  He wrote down ninety-two theses, or points of criticism, about the policies of The Catholic Church at that time, but his strongest criticism, as I said, was reserved for the practice of selling indulgences.  Luther nailed the theses to the door of the local church where public notices were frequently placed.
     “The Pope was displeased with Luther’s lack of respect for the church hierarchy and ordered him to be excommunicated.  Luther reluctantly formed a new church in Germany.  In his mind, it replaced the Catholic Church which he thought had lost its legitimacy.  His intention was to make Lutheranism the exclusive Christian faith.  Instead, he set the precedent for the establishment of other Christian denominations like the Calvinists in Switzerland, the Huguenots in France, and the Anglicans in England.
     “The religious leaders formed alliances with heads of state that had armies at their disposal.  Consequently, the conflict was not just religious.  It became political.  Wars erupted in Europe.
     “The leaders of the Catholic Church finally recognized the need to institute reforms.  At the Council of Trent, changes were made in church policy.  It was a Counter-Reformation.”
     “Who won the wars?  The Catholics or the Protestants?” asked Lucia.
     “Well, there were successes and failures for both sides.  In France, the supremacy of the Catholic Church was re-established.  Most of Northern Europe was left open to Protestantism.”
     “What about Mexico?” someone asked.  “What were the effects of the Reformation here?”
     “Mexico at that time was a newly established Spanish colony.  Spain had remained strongly Catholic during the Reformation.  Their zeal was in fact reactionary.  The inquisition was instituted in Spain as well as here in New Spain.  Every attempt was made to obliterate the religion of the native Mexicans.  Their temples were destroyed, their codices burned, and their religious rituals banned.  The Indians were forcibly baptized in mass ceremonies.  The result was that Mexico became universally Catholic.  The introduction of Protestantism in Mexico is relatively recent.  Let’s hope the different branches of Christianity can find a way to exist together here in harmony.”
     His final wishful comment was not always realized, unfortunately, in Chiapas where religious differences in some communities have led to bloodshed.  There had even been such strong animosity among my own students that I had been prevented from teaching about the Reformation.  Roger had been able to address the topic without interruptions because he had spoken with objectivity and most importantly he had stimulated the students’ interest through an activity that they had related to in a personal way.
     Roger assigned the pages that were to be read, now that he had given them an effective introduction to the unit.  It was a duplication of an assignment I had already given them, but none of the students noticed.  It was much more likely that they would read it this time.  I wondered if the smooth functioning of the classroom I was witnessing could be maintained throughout the semester.
     “There is a tendency,” Roger told me later, “for the students to be well behaved on the first day with a new teacher.  It’s important to take advantage of that and have something prepared for them to do that will actively engage them.”
     He experienced similar positive results with the other groups that day.  I was greatly impressed.  One good day, however, did not not necessarily guarantee him continued success.  I remembered how I had lost my effectiveness after my initial success with the comic book assignment.  Shamefully, I recognized a malevolence in my attitude toward Roger.  I began hoping he would crash and burn.