Blah, Blah, Blah

My morning class is unchanged.  Attendance is sketchy and I feel like I’ve made little progress with the ladies.  I grow impatient with Isabel, the senior citizen, although she is the most regular attendee.  “No entiendo.”  No matter what worksheet I give her or question that I ask.  Oddly, she isn’t bad using the computer although I give her literacy materials which are less challenging than what I do with the rest of the class.

I face fifty new beginning ESL students in the evening.  All, with the exception of two Koreans, are Hispanic.  The evening class energizes me and after three years, I feel on the cusp of effectiveness.  I realize that students value routine. This iteration of an ESL1 class commences with the projection of a painting or photo to inspire some conversation.  Norman Rockwell is a big favorite.  The painting of the child watching the vet examine his dog. 

“Is the boy happy?” 

“No, is nervous.  He scared.”

What’s he wearing?”

“Blue jeans.  White and black shirt.”

“What’s that in his pocket? No idea?   It’s a handkerchief.”

(writes word on board-spelled incorrectly I see here now, thanks to spellcheck.  Glad it’s level 1.)

“Before there was Kleenex…”

(mimes blowing nose)

They drift in during the picture talk.  I wind up talking a bit about the artist and some of them copy the name into a notebook.  This is followed by a quiz.  I’ve been stricter about assigning homework this term.  They are assigned one or two pages from their workbook every night.  I write the assignment on the board and also text them a photo of the book with the page number.  I compose a short quiz, based very closely on the homework.  I correct this with a (I know unPC ) red pen and return the papers immediately after the break.  This, I hope is ameliorated by the crude happy face that I scribble on each one.  Every perfect paper (usually one or two, maximum is five) gets applause and a tiny candy bar. 

I like my textbook, which is digitally enhanced and includes a lot of things that they can do on their phones.  The worksheets are multi-level.  I let the students decide which ones they want although I give advice.  I hand the different worksheets to three students.  Each student has to approach the worksheet monitor.

 “Please Juana, I’d like an easy worksheet.”

“Here you go.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

While the questions vary in level of complexity, all of the student answer input is the same.  I project one of the blank sheets onto the board and pass out markers for students to write in answers.  We practice the sentences and paragraphs aloud, sometimes all together and sometimes in small groups or pairs.”

I am fortunate to be in the largest classroom in the school.  Most of us are in bungalows which make it impossible for students to sit around a table and work cooperatively.  One night each group is assigned a country and given a map.  They are to use their phones to find out the capital, language spoken and population and make a poster which includes a drawing of the flag.  I give them giant poster sized Post-Its, put out paste and markers and scissors. 

Each group presents their research to the rest of the class.  We practice saying numbers in the millions except for Greenland, which surprisingly has only 56,000 residents. The Italy group has written “Roma” instead of “Rome” and I bust them for ignoring my admonishment to switch their phones to English, at least during class.

Another night they have to introduce their groupmates to the class.

His name is Oswaldo.

He’s from Honduras.

His favorite color is purple.

His favorite food is Chinese.

He has four brothers and no sisters.

(Say “no” instead of “’zero’ brothers and sisters.”)

Three weeks in and I’ve already administered two mandatory tests.  This week we will be fulfilling our civics obligation, by preparing students for a badly designed test about The Census.  The Adult Division has Census madness.  We are given fat, badly designed teacher’s manuals and each student is given a fat, badly designed workbook.  The test itself is confusing and culminates with the teacher pretending to be a Census enumerator, using a script that’s provided.  One line of dialogue is “blah, blah, blah.”  The student is evaluated based on whether she is able to ask for clarification.  The tests are to be administered before the end of February and will likely be long forgotten by the students when they actually receive their Census forms in April.

It is important to assure the students that the Census results are confidential.  In these days when so many legal norms are being trashed, I hope that it’s truly the case.  I will teach them about counting and allotting and explain how public projects and services are funded and how legislative representation is determined by the Census.  We will have a Census kiosk on campus.  Instead of felling a forest to create crappy materials we could simply make sure that each of our students understand the rudiments and that all of their households are in compliance. The Census comes around every ten years.  It is available in every language under the sun.  The materials we’ve been provided would take months to teach and would unlikely result in much better test results.  I would rather spend my precious class time on more practical language objectives instead.

I’ve gotten Himself hooked on the video game style teaching platform called Kahoot, essentially a quiz that they can answer competitively on their phones.  Every class I’ve had adores these, but I can only manage one about once a week.  They take some time to design and also, there are always a couple of students who have trouble logging into the application, and I have to allow around 45 minutes for the whole shebang.  This week we are learning prepositions, so I use wacky animal pictures.  A cat, lounging in a shower cap with floating slices of cucumber is in the bathtub. The (pre PETA) elephant is on the box. The cat is under the chair.  One of the incorrect answer choices, “This cat is smarter than the teacher,” is selected by a couple of the students.

I still make them talk to me one-on-one every night before they leave. 

“What’s your favorite TV show? “

“Novelas.”

“News”

“Soccer”

“Dora the Explorer”

“The Big Bang Theory”

“David Attenborough’s Life on Earth”

Federico, from last semester is an aficionado of Narcos and Forensic Files.   I’m hoping that one of the new students might be as eager for the new seasons of both shows as I am.  Former student Jose has a sophisticated taste in music, and I’d like to know that he thinks about the new Thom York.  So far there’s been no special bonding this semester but as I steer them more and more towards self-discovery, I’ll do a bit of discovery myself and am likely to come up with some kindred spiritedness.

Himself and I are pretty much we are numb to all of our seething resentments.  I navigate around his dislike of social events and aversion to parting with even the slightest physical object.  He keeps his mouth shut about my smoking and general fussiness.  This week however there is a flash of spat and I am told, with genuine irritation, to give it a break with the election.  The optimism fomented by the mid-terms has worn off and despite my efforts to distract myself, except when teaching, I am always fretting about the coming election. In 2018 it felt like the nightmare would be over, come 2021, but I am despondent and panicked that this might not be the case.

As both children are all in-with money and sweat equity-for Bernie, to honor this, and their future, I’ve promised my vote.  And then regretted it.  And then didn’t regret it.  And then thought Amy Klobuchar might have what it takes.  But Mayor Pete is so nice to listen to and he’s got the Christian/veteran thing going.  And then Elizabeth Warren, Phoenix-like gets Bloomburg bullseye in the cajones.  Maybe we should just bite the bullet and go with Bloomberg’s money.  Perhaps Obama going all out for Biden will seal the deal.  “Who can win?  Who can win?” the ceaseless mantra. The aggregate of all of the negative things that every single candidate has done in her or his whole life pales in the light of a single day of the current White House resident’s malfeasance.

Given the prospect of four more years we do both agree that hightailing it requires serious consideration.  Ecuador.  We pour over ex-pat boards and videos.  Prices are low.  There’s good medical care.  We wouldn’t have to work so hard, if at all.  But, what about our kids?  Our friends?  Our pets?  Our stuff?  Consideration of the amount of effort required to effectuate the move to another country exhausts me, but the thought of continuing to watch my country descend further and further into cruelty and ignorance is unbearable. I wish Michelle Obama were running.