Inside room 336 at Somerville High, freshmen know him as Mr. Barros, the colorful and animated teacher who talks passionately about immigration, workplace reform, and US history.
Outside school, Mario Barros is known as a satirical newspaper columnist and the sharp-tongued voice behind "Lenguaviva" ("Living Language"), a radio show on WUNR-AM (1600) where Barros shares his social commentary on just about anything, from New England's harsh winters to fuel alternatives to Angelina Jolie's collection of tattoos.
"What is going to happen to her when she is 87 years old? All those tattoos will be in different places from where they started," he jokes.
OK, so humor might be in the ear of the beholder. But Barros doesn't stop trying to use his storytelling skills to inform his students and entertain his listeners. At Somerville High, he has a running joke that he left Cuba on a raft and landed on the set of "Mystic River," the movie directed by Clint Eastwood.
Since arriving in Boston more than 12 years ago, Barros has gradually become a high-profile personality among the Spanish-speaking community. With his classroom, his radio show, and his weekly column in the Lawrence newspaper Siglo21 ("21st Century"), Barros has found plenty of forums for his expression of ideas - ideas that were censored in his native Cuba.
"He is this multifaceted creative person who has things to say that people want to hear," says Frank Russell, the head of the humanities department at Somerville High. "It's important for kids to see in their teachers whose first language might be Spanish as with Mario, who are totally bilingual and who can express their ideas in the classroom and in the media. He's a role model."
The radio show and the columns - El Mundo in Jamaica Plain has also published him - are based on what Barros calls "cronicas," satire or social commentary on current events. He began writing them as an English and American history professor at the Foreign Language Institute in Havana more than 20 years ago. He emigrated to Boston in 1995 as a political refugee. A month later Somerville High hired him.
"I like the absurd a lot, even the surrealists," says Barros, 54. "I like to make people think a little bit. It's not slapstick, in-your-face humor. My style is subdued and more thoughtful."
One recent radio and column topic poked fun at his own people. He talked about Cuban transplants infecting native Bostonians with stereotypical Cuban characteristics such as arriving late or unannounced to social functions and people's homes. He blamed this on Miami. "El Cubaneo is a virus that started in Miami that has come up on I-95 to Boston," he says. "We are making an impact on the gringo population in Boston because I have seen Americans buying medicinal herbs in botanicas and eating avocado salads."
Beginning in Cuba
Barros started writing his satire 20 years ago in Cuba, because he thought he could do a better job than other local columnists. After a newspaper published two of his social commentaries, other publications picked him up.
"I discovered I could not only write stories but I could write songs and skits," recalls Barros, who later founded a comedy troupe called Lenguaviva with then-wife, Mayda Dedieu. The group performed on Cuban television and radio, and at festivals.
During the late 1980s, Cuban artists and academic professionals used satire to subtly criticize the Cuban government and the changes that were unfolding in the Soviet Union and other communist countries. Barros was among those "humoristas." He wrote his satire when he wasn't honing his English by listening to the Beatles, reading Mark Twain and John Steinbeck, or teaching English and American history to college students. But Barros grew more disillusioned by the Cuban government and applied for a visa to emigrate to the United States as a political refugee. A year later, the visa came through. He and his family flew to Miami with their suitcases, $150, and a guitar.
A Red Sox fan, Barros chose to settle in Boston, where he had contacts he had met in Cuba. They helped him secure the teaching job in Somerville.
"He's a dynamic person, and he's got a great sense of humor," says Ken Brociner, a Chelsea teacher who helped sponsor Barros and his family. Brociner befriended Barros in Cuba, where he and other Boston teachers visited Barros's college institute through a research program for visiting American teachers. "He really cares about his students."
Barros, who lives in Wilmington, refers to his Somerville job as his "American dream." He teaches freshmen about the birth of the United States through reconstruction. He also oversees a program that introduces theater to recent immigrant students in Somerville.
"Boston opened its arms to me," says Barros, who has two sons - Eric, 25, who lives in Havana, and Samuel, 21, a student at Brandeis University. His ex-wife, Dedieu, is also a teacher in Somerville.
Creative juices flow
Still, Barros yearned for another creative outlet for his daily observations on Boston life. "I felt pretty much at home here, but there was still something missing," he says. "As fluent as I am in English, it's still my second language. I went back to writing in Spanish. It was like going back to my roots."
Last April, he published his first book, "El Color No Cae del Cielo" ("Color Doesn't Fall From the Sky"). The novel centers on a man who shares stories each day to riders on a commuter rail as he adjusts to his new homeland. Barros has another book on the way.
Last fall, local Spanish newspapers began carrying his columns after Barros sent them samples.
"He brings a freshness to the newspaper," says Adriana Recchia, vice president of Siglo21. "Through his writing, he brings back the Cuban storyteller with his bluntness and perspectives. He is very amusing and a great observer of life. I wanted to publish him because you don't see many Cubans like him in the Boston area."
Or teachers. On a recent Friday afternoon at Somerville High, Barros discusses workplace reform in towns such as Lowell. He instructs the students to write about a fictional boy or girl who may have worked at a factory.
"The boys and girls are going to be immigrants from Europe," Barros instructs. As he talks, he occasionally makes comparisons between factory workers in Lowell and Cuba.
When a student asks to use the restroom, Barros advises him to use the hall pass, a piece of wood that Barros allegedly used to build a raft to come to Boston from Cuba. The pass even has a shark bite.
Barros then recounts his mythic voyage up the Atlantic, a story students have heard often but still laugh at.
"I landed on the Mystic River," Barros says, "and Clint Eastwood said, 'I want to take you with me to Hollywood.' And I said, 'No thank you, Clint. My role is here at Somerville High as a teacher.' " The students giggle.
Johnny Diaz can be reached at jodiaz@globe.com.
