Sometimes I feel like my blog titles give deceptive hope to my blog contents. For that I'm sorry. Buuuuuut oh well, now that you're here you might as well keep reading this bullocks.
That's a new word I learned in London. :D heh. Okay so I have skipped loads of my life on here because I've been super busy...or if I haven't been busy, I've been sleeping. So I'll try to catch everyone up on the NEXT post about everything that has happened between Thanksgiving and now. But this is about LONDON!!
Katie & I's flight left at 6:30 a.m. Friday morning to head to London...set to arrive at 8:30 local time. That means we needed to be at the airport by like 5:30, and leave our house by 5:20ish. Public transportation starts at like 7 a.m. so that wasn't an option. Instead of spending 20 euros on a taxi we decided to catch the last metro on Thursday night and camp out at the airport. It worked out decently well. We slept on the floor of Barajas, along with many other hobos, and I had awful flashbacks to when I first got to Madrid and was profoundly depressed, haha. Luckily this trip was quite the contrary! I hid my cell phone in my bra as my alarm and we managed to snag about 3 hours of sleep in total before it was time to check in and head through security.
I think my bad karma with airport security started back in 2005. On my trip to Mexico, I couldn't take off some silver bangles I had been wearing for 2 years, so security told me I could take them off or get frisked. I was lazy and didn't feel like forcing them off, so I went ahead and offered myself up for getting patted down. Ever since then, airport securities have been on my ass. Or I've had awful luck. Or both.
On my way here, from Indy, I was so traumatized by saying goodbye to my friends and family and dealing with the fact that I'd be here for a year that I blew through security, put my shoes on quickly, and jetted towards my gate. Except I forgot my carry on bag on the security conveyor belt. I had my purse, jacket, and presents from friends...but forgot the luggage bag. By the time I realized a team of airport security was already surrounding my little wine colored bag and about 5 different guards were waving metal detectors at my bag and calling the bomb squad. They were less than thrilled when I told them I forgot it and of course didn't believe me anyways. They also wanted me to prove it was mine. Ummm...brilliant job, Indy security. let's play "guess what's in my bag". Boring. Anyways that was dumb enough. But not dumb enough as what I did on the way to London.
So I go through security, take off my shoes, and first notice the severely butch and burly security guard behind the gates, just waiting for someone to set off the metal detectors. I made sure I took off all of my earrings, jewelry, watches, everything. Took the coins out of my pockets. Everything. So I walk through, seeing the eager beaver just waiting for me. I get 3/4 of the way through when it beeps. LUCKILY the woman in front of me was a terrorist or something because she got nabbed by the butch security guard and I got pulled aside by the pretty Spanish security guard who looked thoroughly annoyed that I was beeping. I stepped through again, and nothing. She asked (still annoyed) if I was wearing a belt. I said no. She asked if I had a pace maker. I said no. I told her I was wearing a bra, though. She didn't seem to care at all, although I think she should have thanked me because it probably made her job more pleasant. So, reluctantly, she performed the "invasive" search that Jeri had warned me about before. Got to 2nd base with that security guard, for sure. She started at my arms and then still, super reluctantly, felt all around my chest, between my boobs, under my boobs, in, around, if she could have gone behind my boobs she would have, then in between my legs, shins, feet, etc. It was surprisingly quick and after all of it I was kind of annoyed that I had to go through it for nothing. It was probably because of my zipper, I thought. Which could happen to anybody.
We get to the gate, and still have an hour before we can board because we checked in so early. So I start looking for my cell phone to set my alarm again. And I can't find it. So I think shit, I left it back on the floor where we hobo-ed it up for the night. I really didn't want to have to explain to the annoyed security guard that I left my cell phone, plus it was probably already gone by one of the other real hobos anyways. Crap. Pissed, I just cannot imagine where I put it. Where'd I have it last?? Good reading if you guessed my bra....because it was definitely there. Yes, I trumped airport security. Completely accidentally, I went through with my cell phone wedged in there. AND unhappy security guard lady never even found it. At first I felt like a dumbass...and I am. BUT THEN I realized that's freakin stupid because what if I wasn't a terrorist and had decided to smuggle a hand gun through or something?! So much for this strict security business.
The fear of clever terrorists mixed with the awul turbulence we had on the way there made for a very emotionally hectic plane ride for me. Katie was passed out right after take-off. It also didn't help that I was listening to my London playlist (consisting of strictly Beatles and the Mary Poppins soundtrack) and everytime we hit turbulence a very disruptive song would play (like Hey Jude at the end when Paul starts screaming weirdly...that's so nervewracking during impending death). Anyways we get to London, do Londony things, take potentially 50 pictures or more of Big Ben from every angle possible (wait for the pictures), risk my life feeding the birds in St. James Park (all whilst screaming "Feed the birds" from Mary Poppins in an awful British accent), taking many pictures of me feeding the birds, and shopping. I also declared that Big Ben is my boyfriend. I am in love. Anyways, during the shopping, I found numerous bras on sale for like 5 pounds each. I was EXCITED, seeing how my bra size is 100D in Europe sizes...right?! Anyways I bought the bras but we didn't check any bags because it cost too much. So I ended up shoving them all in my purse. They fit and everything, along with all of my souvenirs, but then I go through security again and something in my bag looks "suspicious". So I end up getting pulled aside and chatting with this lovely middle-aged British security guard who asks politely if he can invasively go through all of my items in my purse and do some chemical tests on them. I say of course. First, he finds approximately 10 shot glasses with my boyfriend on them. He asked if I was planning on inducing a lot of drinking. Funny bloke (another British word :D) anyways, he checks them for chemicals with this little wand he had, and continues. I explained that my friends were alcoholics, not me. Love you all. Anyways he keeps going and later finds the four bras in my purse...and made some awkward comment about looking like a rockstar with all of my alcohol paraphenalia and extra sexy underwear. I'm glad I can reflect so positively on America, haha.
Anyways his chemical wand that he rubbed on everything looked like a Swiffer duster pad. Except he took off the cloth and ran it through a chemical machine to see if I had any bomb-y things on my bras. Because they're so dangerous. If he would have been cuter I would have told him I didn't need chemicals to make my lingerie explosive. Guess that's inappropriate. I didn't. Anyways he cleared my stuff and left me in the middle of everybody to repack my purse and figure out how to make it all fit again. With my bomb-free London goodies.
So, finally, after a 2 hour delay because of another strike in Madrid, I made it home. Safely. With everything I went with. And I fell in love. Successful trip!! And many pictures to follow!!
Monday, December 13, 2010
Thursday, December 2, 2010
...and then I got molested by a 7 year old.
I have updates this week as well as way too many awkward stories. They're all inappropriate so you've officially been warned.
General Nun has been on her A-game this week. For sure. I think I've forgotten to mention that she will flat out tell me to my face that I don't know English, sometimes, because British English is more correct than my “American”. So one day I was trying to explain “blender”. She says “no, we call it a mixer”. In class I slipped up and said “this is what we call a blender!” “OR ees what we call a meexair. Ees from dee Breeteesh. Ees more right.”
General Nun: 1. Chelsea: in the negative too far to count. Anyways the kids this week have been learning transportation. She went around the room asking the kids “MY BABIES, how jew get to da school?”
Nun: Tell me, baby, how jew get to school?
Student 1: I go to school by bus.
Student 2: I go to school by car.
Student 3: I go to school by car.
Student 4: I go to school by foot, then by tube, den by foot.
...I think I did that Scooby Doo double take thing where I'm like...wait what?? So I asked “how do you get by school?” And the student asks “uh...ees how jew you say, Metro? Tube?” NO. That's not how you say Metro. The only place on Earth that says “tube” is London. And it's just a general term. You can't say you take a tube to school. That makes you sound crazy, like you were Harry Potter or something. Lord.
Me: Oh, okay. I see. We just say Metro.
Nun: oh, jess? Well jew must have stolen from here! Ees “tube” een Engliss.
Gotcha. You'd know best. Other mishaps she's made this week:
“Jew can say ees good or is...? BUTT!! Jess, butt ees de opposhit of good.”
“One boy ees tall...de udder ees shot. One boy ees fat, de udder ess teen.”
Or better yet, she got in a fight this week with one of the students. This is the best tactic yet:
Student: ees pretty de same as handsome?
Nun: Jess, my God my baby, jess ees de same!!! Jew make me so angry!!
Student: well te quiero!! (I love you)
Nun: I HATE JEW MY BABY!!
Caps means loud screaming 3 inches from his face, by the way.
Other updates in school: Joan, the boy from the previous post who insists on calling himself “Essexy boy” has now added 2 other names to his nametag in class: “Blak strong”, “rompe dientes (break teeth)”, and Coby Brayan (spelled just like that). He told me to call him Blak Strong first. I told him I thought that might be racist. Maybe. I'm glad he's proud of being black though, haha. Clearly.
I'll end on a high note with my lowest point of today. Potentially lowest point of Spain thus far. At recess, I always talk to my students and say hello, even though on Thursdays I am allowed to leave after class. I have noticed, though, that my younger students are never there. Turns out there is a specific little patio, underneath their raised gymnasium, for 1st and 2nd graders. The roof is barely tall enough for the teachers to walk under it so it's a perfect little lair for the little munchkins. Anyways on my way out, three of my students found me and started yelling (as per usual) CHELSEA!! CHELSEA!! LOOK IT'S CHELSEA!! By the time I made it over to the ramp down to the lair, all of the kids rushed me and created a little people wall so I couldn't get any further. They had also managed to tell all of their friends so about 50 different kids were hugging me and pushing the other kids trying to get to me to hug me as well. It's really cute when it happens IN the classroom because usually only 12 kids (maximum) rush me at once. Here I felt absolutely attacked. While the students were hugging me, they all started shoving each other like a mosh pit trying to knock others out of the way to get attention as well. One of the little girls started yelling “TERREMOTO!!! TERREMOTO!!!!” (earthquake). I told her “that's earthquake. Say “earthquake!” so she started screaming “EARTHQUAKE!!! EARTHQUAKE!!!!!!! EARTHQUAAAAAAAAKE!!!”
Meanwhile, sneaky little Diego made it through the crowd and managed to grab me from my right side. Instead of grabbing my arm, which I kindly stretched out for him, he grabbed around it and held my hip as well as my right boob. Firmly. I would also like to add that Diego is the 2nd grader who continually says “hello Chelsea!! Jew are berry beauteeful today!” I used to think it was innocent. I don't anymore. One accidental grab....okay. However for about 30 seconds he continually squeezed and released my chest as if it were a stress ball. Practice that for 30 seconds. CLEARLY it's not an accident. I kept trying to shake him off, but to no avail. He KEPT doing it so I literally tried to shake him off, finally deciding that risking busting him in the face with my elbow and giving him a bloody nose would be worth it to stop him from molesting me. I think the look of sheer panic on my face was really obvious because the students started asking “Chelsea, do you want us to leave you alone?” (in Spanish, of course) and I said “no, it's okay, I just...I need to go home. House!” and did the international symbol for house (hands pointed above your head like a roof. Works every time) and finally they got the message. Eventually I shook Diego loose from his death grip (he didn't let go...instead he said “she wants us to leave her alone!!” to all of the kids while still firmly holding my boob. That's actually false. I wanted you to let go of my chest. And not have ever done it in the first place) All of the kids hugged me one more time before I left and one little girl even kissed me on the cheek. When I got home I found a lovely crusty circle on my cheek from God knows what she was eating for breakfast. I think I'm permanently scarred for life.
General Nun has been on her A-game this week. For sure. I think I've forgotten to mention that she will flat out tell me to my face that I don't know English, sometimes, because British English is more correct than my “American”. So one day I was trying to explain “blender”. She says “no, we call it a mixer”. In class I slipped up and said “this is what we call a blender!” “OR ees what we call a meexair. Ees from dee Breeteesh. Ees more right.”
General Nun: 1. Chelsea: in the negative too far to count. Anyways the kids this week have been learning transportation. She went around the room asking the kids “MY BABIES, how jew get to da school?”
Nun: Tell me, baby, how jew get to school?
Student 1: I go to school by bus.
Student 2: I go to school by car.
Student 3: I go to school by car.
Student 4: I go to school by foot, then by tube, den by foot.
...I think I did that Scooby Doo double take thing where I'm like...wait what?? So I asked “how do you get by school?” And the student asks “uh...ees how jew you say, Metro? Tube?” NO. That's not how you say Metro. The only place on Earth that says “tube” is London. And it's just a general term. You can't say you take a tube to school. That makes you sound crazy, like you were Harry Potter or something. Lord.
Me: Oh, okay. I see. We just say Metro.
Nun: oh, jess? Well jew must have stolen from here! Ees “tube” een Engliss.
Gotcha. You'd know best. Other mishaps she's made this week:
“Jew can say ees good or is...? BUTT!! Jess, butt ees de opposhit of good.”
“One boy ees tall...de udder ees shot. One boy ees fat, de udder ess teen.”
Or better yet, she got in a fight this week with one of the students. This is the best tactic yet:
Student: ees pretty de same as handsome?
Nun: Jess, my God my baby, jess ees de same!!! Jew make me so angry!!
Student: well te quiero!! (I love you)
Nun: I HATE JEW MY BABY!!
Caps means loud screaming 3 inches from his face, by the way.
Other updates in school: Joan, the boy from the previous post who insists on calling himself “Essexy boy” has now added 2 other names to his nametag in class: “Blak strong”, “rompe dientes (break teeth)”, and Coby Brayan (spelled just like that). He told me to call him Blak Strong first. I told him I thought that might be racist. Maybe. I'm glad he's proud of being black though, haha. Clearly.
I'll end on a high note with my lowest point of today. Potentially lowest point of Spain thus far. At recess, I always talk to my students and say hello, even though on Thursdays I am allowed to leave after class. I have noticed, though, that my younger students are never there. Turns out there is a specific little patio, underneath their raised gymnasium, for 1st and 2nd graders. The roof is barely tall enough for the teachers to walk under it so it's a perfect little lair for the little munchkins. Anyways on my way out, three of my students found me and started yelling (as per usual) CHELSEA!! CHELSEA!! LOOK IT'S CHELSEA!! By the time I made it over to the ramp down to the lair, all of the kids rushed me and created a little people wall so I couldn't get any further. They had also managed to tell all of their friends so about 50 different kids were hugging me and pushing the other kids trying to get to me to hug me as well. It's really cute when it happens IN the classroom because usually only 12 kids (maximum) rush me at once. Here I felt absolutely attacked. While the students were hugging me, they all started shoving each other like a mosh pit trying to knock others out of the way to get attention as well. One of the little girls started yelling “TERREMOTO!!! TERREMOTO!!!!” (earthquake). I told her “that's earthquake. Say “earthquake!” so she started screaming “EARTHQUAKE!!! EARTHQUAKE!!!!!!! EARTHQUAAAAAAAAKE!!!”
Meanwhile, sneaky little Diego made it through the crowd and managed to grab me from my right side. Instead of grabbing my arm, which I kindly stretched out for him, he grabbed around it and held my hip as well as my right boob. Firmly. I would also like to add that Diego is the 2nd grader who continually says “hello Chelsea!! Jew are berry beauteeful today!” I used to think it was innocent. I don't anymore. One accidental grab....okay. However for about 30 seconds he continually squeezed and released my chest as if it were a stress ball. Practice that for 30 seconds. CLEARLY it's not an accident. I kept trying to shake him off, but to no avail. He KEPT doing it so I literally tried to shake him off, finally deciding that risking busting him in the face with my elbow and giving him a bloody nose would be worth it to stop him from molesting me. I think the look of sheer panic on my face was really obvious because the students started asking “Chelsea, do you want us to leave you alone?” (in Spanish, of course) and I said “no, it's okay, I just...I need to go home. House!” and did the international symbol for house (hands pointed above your head like a roof. Works every time) and finally they got the message. Eventually I shook Diego loose from his death grip (he didn't let go...instead he said “she wants us to leave her alone!!” to all of the kids while still firmly holding my boob. That's actually false. I wanted you to let go of my chest. And not have ever done it in the first place) All of the kids hugged me one more time before I left and one little girl even kissed me on the cheek. When I got home I found a lovely crusty circle on my cheek from God knows what she was eating for breakfast. I think I'm permanently scarred for life.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Look!! Ees essunny? NO! Ees essnowing!! Brrrr!!!
I find myself laughing at the smallest things here in Spain. I'm (probably surprisingly) one of those people that walks around and gets distracted easily by everything (that's not the surprising part) and often gets touched by the little details. Like my new class on Gran Via that has the gorgeous view, or the all of the Christmas lights around. Everything makes me feel so blessed and filled with happiness. I did the same thing 2 years ago when I went to London, except I sat in a few different Starbucks and started crying. Let me tell you, Katie is so thrilled to be going with me to London in less than two weeks, haha, after telling her that detail. I refuse to promise not to cry. London is touching.
Anyways, my latest amusement is how quickly my students have adapted to me. They know my teaching styles and tactics, and now use them to communicate back to me. Which is good and bad. Communication in general is good but playing dumb is not, haha. In class, whenever I want to ellicit a certain response and the class won't answer, I always give a few false answers first. So I say "What's the weather like today??" Dead silence. Crickets. Okay....is it....cloudy?? NO!! Oh, okay....is it....rainy?? NO!!! Eees essunny!!! There we go. That tactic. I didn't realize how often I do that though until recess today. Approximately ten minutes ago it started snowing. Madrid is not used to seeing snow. I will detail that later. However I go outside during the lunch break and all of the kids have gone batshit crazy running around like they were set on fire. One of my students runs up to me, gives me a hug, and says, "Chelsea!! Ees essunny?? No!! Ees essnowing!!" and runs away.
hahaha....oops. Impressionable youngsters. Meanwhile when I tryyyyy to teach them something, like fun slang, they can't pick it up to save their lives. The other day in class I was trying to teach them the word "suck". In the context of "This CD sucks" because their disc that accompanies their book is scratched and won't work. I spent 20 minutes trying to get them to say English class sucked and they refused. Somehow, actually, by the end of class instead of using the word they were confused and thought that I was saying English sucked. Oh well.
Speaking of slang.....I've also learned that while you can't teach the kids slang, they can pick it up from pop songs, news media, and Paris Hilton's My New BFF (while the show was a total failure in America, Spain MTV loves it). Sometimes this is funny, sometimes it is painful. Please reference my Halloween post about "sexy bampires" before continuing. I realize sexy is a seemingly harmless word but I wouldn't say it to my grandma. Therefore I wouldn't use it with my students to describe anything. They, however, don't have the same opinion. I like to draw vocabulary words on the chalkboard, instead of translating, so I can keep lying to the kids about me not knowing Spanish and I also like doodling. It makes my 4 years of high school seem worth something, haha. Anyways one of the vocab words in my 5th grade class was "have a shower" (once again, damn their British English) So I drew a harmless stick figure in a shower with a happy face. I like to be sarcastic with them because it keeps them on their feet. So I said "there we go, shower! See? He's super cute. I'd date him." And one of the students, always a class clown, yells "jess, Chelsea, he ees bery esexy! Esexy boy!!"
Okay, I'm sorry, what?!? SERIOUSLY? I literally threw my head back and stared at the ceiling for about 20 seconds trying not to laugh and be appaulled at the same time. How the hell do you deal with that anyways? So I decided to ignore it and move on. But he kept saying sexy boy over and over and over. Listening to one of your chubby and overeager students mutter "essexy boy" numerous times is annoying so I decided to throw it back at him, since he seemed to grasp that it was inappropriate, and call HIM the sexy boy. As a nickname. At first it mortified him. Which was good. He actually blushed and shut up for a little bit. But then the class started calling him "essexy" boy and eventually he became proud of it. The next day, I made them make nametags so I could call them out when they were talking rudely. Joan (pronounced yo-an) decided to write "Joan (sexy boy)" on his nametag. Then when I called on him later, he said "eh, Chelsea, jew meessed dees part. See? Joan, essexy boy. Ees eemportan"
As if that wasn't enough, the most annoying girl in the classroom decided if Joan was going to be sexy boy, she wanted to be sexy girl. So her nametag now says "Ikram (sexy girl)". I'm waiting for the nuns to walk by and have holy conniptions for my "essexy" 10 year olds.
Anyways, back to the snow. It's snowing!! :) I wasn't expecting snow. I'm also realllly cold right now, haha. I forgot my warm peacoat at home (intelligently) sooo I'm going to start wearing a sweatshirt and my fleece jacket. That should do. I've been secretly waiting for this moment, though, because up until now Spaniards have already armed their kids with their huge down jackets and furry hoods. I'm waiting to see what they would send with them once it got below 50. No outfit change as of yet, but total panic has stricken my school//Spanish citizens. It usually does not snow in Madrid, so the city is completely unequipped. My teacher told me last year when it snowed Madrid just shut down all of the roads, buses, and trains. Brilliant. I asked if they knew to use salt. She said they prefer to wait until it snows knee-high and use snow plows. She was also dead serious. Right now snowflakes are majestically dancing in the wind, slowly falling and blowing away. The average Madrid citizen is currently power-walking down the street unhappily with an umbrella and a scarf wrapped twice around their entire face. It's kind of like a reverse/upside-down turban. A face turban.
Meanwhile, if you take one step outside of the hustle and bustle of the city into my school, you will discover a completely new scenery from the norm. Usually, during breaks, you will find 40+ 3rd, 4th, and 5th grade boys playing soccer, completely consumed by their imaginary world where they are THE best soccer player in the country and leading Spain to another world cup victory. The girls stand around gossipping, doing hair, or playing tag. Anytime that I am on the playground, I find myself becoming "base" because they think the kids won't hit me to get to the other kids behind me. They're often wrong...a lot. Anyways today every student can be found with their tongues excitedly flying out of their mouths with their heads thrown back at a 45 degree angle and their face scrunched up uglier than a pug's. Apparently a Spanish kid's responses to snow go like this: 1. gasp. 2. scream. 3. flock to window to gawk. 4. run outside and hug your friends eagerly. 5. whiplash your head immediately as hard as possible and wave your tongue around less than gracefully trying to catch as many snowflakes as possible.
So...my playground looks like this, but times 150 students.
Anyways, my latest amusement is how quickly my students have adapted to me. They know my teaching styles and tactics, and now use them to communicate back to me. Which is good and bad. Communication in general is good but playing dumb is not, haha. In class, whenever I want to ellicit a certain response and the class won't answer, I always give a few false answers first. So I say "What's the weather like today??" Dead silence. Crickets. Okay....is it....cloudy?? NO!! Oh, okay....is it....rainy?? NO!!! Eees essunny!!! There we go. That tactic. I didn't realize how often I do that though until recess today. Approximately ten minutes ago it started snowing. Madrid is not used to seeing snow. I will detail that later. However I go outside during the lunch break and all of the kids have gone batshit crazy running around like they were set on fire. One of my students runs up to me, gives me a hug, and says, "Chelsea!! Ees essunny?? No!! Ees essnowing!!" and runs away.
hahaha....oops. Impressionable youngsters. Meanwhile when I tryyyyy to teach them something, like fun slang, they can't pick it up to save their lives. The other day in class I was trying to teach them the word "suck". In the context of "This CD sucks" because their disc that accompanies their book is scratched and won't work. I spent 20 minutes trying to get them to say English class sucked and they refused. Somehow, actually, by the end of class instead of using the word they were confused and thought that I was saying English sucked. Oh well.
Speaking of slang.....I've also learned that while you can't teach the kids slang, they can pick it up from pop songs, news media, and Paris Hilton's My New BFF (while the show was a total failure in America, Spain MTV loves it). Sometimes this is funny, sometimes it is painful. Please reference my Halloween post about "sexy bampires" before continuing. I realize sexy is a seemingly harmless word but I wouldn't say it to my grandma. Therefore I wouldn't use it with my students to describe anything. They, however, don't have the same opinion. I like to draw vocabulary words on the chalkboard, instead of translating, so I can keep lying to the kids about me not knowing Spanish and I also like doodling. It makes my 4 years of high school seem worth something, haha. Anyways one of the vocab words in my 5th grade class was "have a shower" (once again, damn their British English) So I drew a harmless stick figure in a shower with a happy face. I like to be sarcastic with them because it keeps them on their feet. So I said "there we go, shower! See? He's super cute. I'd date him." And one of the students, always a class clown, yells "jess, Chelsea, he ees bery esexy! Esexy boy!!"
Okay, I'm sorry, what?!? SERIOUSLY? I literally threw my head back and stared at the ceiling for about 20 seconds trying not to laugh and be appaulled at the same time. How the hell do you deal with that anyways? So I decided to ignore it and move on. But he kept saying sexy boy over and over and over. Listening to one of your chubby and overeager students mutter "essexy boy" numerous times is annoying so I decided to throw it back at him, since he seemed to grasp that it was inappropriate, and call HIM the sexy boy. As a nickname. At first it mortified him. Which was good. He actually blushed and shut up for a little bit. But then the class started calling him "essexy" boy and eventually he became proud of it. The next day, I made them make nametags so I could call them out when they were talking rudely. Joan (pronounced yo-an) decided to write "Joan (sexy boy)" on his nametag. Then when I called on him later, he said "eh, Chelsea, jew meessed dees part. See? Joan, essexy boy. Ees eemportan"
As if that wasn't enough, the most annoying girl in the classroom decided if Joan was going to be sexy boy, she wanted to be sexy girl. So her nametag now says "Ikram (sexy girl)". I'm waiting for the nuns to walk by and have holy conniptions for my "essexy" 10 year olds.
Anyways, back to the snow. It's snowing!! :) I wasn't expecting snow. I'm also realllly cold right now, haha. I forgot my warm peacoat at home (intelligently) sooo I'm going to start wearing a sweatshirt and my fleece jacket. That should do. I've been secretly waiting for this moment, though, because up until now Spaniards have already armed their kids with their huge down jackets and furry hoods. I'm waiting to see what they would send with them once it got below 50. No outfit change as of yet, but total panic has stricken my school//Spanish citizens. It usually does not snow in Madrid, so the city is completely unequipped. My teacher told me last year when it snowed Madrid just shut down all of the roads, buses, and trains. Brilliant. I asked if they knew to use salt. She said they prefer to wait until it snows knee-high and use snow plows. She was also dead serious. Right now snowflakes are majestically dancing in the wind, slowly falling and blowing away. The average Madrid citizen is currently power-walking down the street unhappily with an umbrella and a scarf wrapped twice around their entire face. It's kind of like a reverse/upside-down turban. A face turban.
Meanwhile, if you take one step outside of the hustle and bustle of the city into my school, you will discover a completely new scenery from the norm. Usually, during breaks, you will find 40+ 3rd, 4th, and 5th grade boys playing soccer, completely consumed by their imaginary world where they are THE best soccer player in the country and leading Spain to another world cup victory. The girls stand around gossipping, doing hair, or playing tag. Anytime that I am on the playground, I find myself becoming "base" because they think the kids won't hit me to get to the other kids behind me. They're often wrong...a lot. Anyways today every student can be found with their tongues excitedly flying out of their mouths with their heads thrown back at a 45 degree angle and their face scrunched up uglier than a pug's. Apparently a Spanish kid's responses to snow go like this: 1. gasp. 2. scream. 3. flock to window to gawk. 4. run outside and hug your friends eagerly. 5. whiplash your head immediately as hard as possible and wave your tongue around less than gracefully trying to catch as many snowflakes as possible.
So...my playground looks like this, but times 150 students.
I'm gonna go wait and see how long they can last. My guess is about 15 minutes before their natural Spanish nature kicks in and they start complaining about how cold it is. That's my biggest pet peeve. "cold" here is anything below 60 degrees. Last night I went on a walk with Katie for Starbucks and was too lazy to put on shoes, so I wore flip flops. First of all, that's sacrilege in Spain, even when it's warm. But to wear sandals when it is below 60 in Spain is abominable. Old little bitties will literally stop you and tell you numerous things. 1. it is SO COLD outside. 2. how could you not wear shoes? 3. you young people are crazy to not wear shoes because 4. It is SO COLD outside. 5. I'm SO COLD and I have shoes on!!
I told Katie if any old ladies approached us, I was going to have to quickly figure out how to say "listen here you old bird, I know it's cold but I'm lazier than it is cold so thank you for your concert but you're not my mom."
And mom, if you're reading this, I promise I'll probably wear shoes next time. :)
Friday, November 26, 2010
I love jew!.......I deed no want to say dat.
Today is Black Friday. And while I would love to complain and say that I wish I was home, I can't. Not really. I mean......okay yeah, I wish I could be at Castleton Mall (or OOOOH maybe Circle Centre, an upgrade) with some of my best friends to people watch the psychos shop. Today is on my list of people-watching holidays. This list also is home to Harry Potter releases (books, movies, etc.), prom season, and well...now, all of Spain. I NEVER dress Spanish. Here's what I lack: thigh high leather boots with 3 1/2 inch platform heels, booty denim shorts, booty shorts in general, numerous pairs of tights of various colors, and baby doll tees with cartoon characters and/or grammatically incorrect English. Here's an example:
Please note the fashion math here: the short length (x) is equal to (y), her crotch. If x = y, then z (the outfit) is trashy. And probably drafty. Basic math.
Typical Spanish. I couldn't begin to tell you how many Spanish women thought I was checking them out because I was staring at their chest, squinting intently, trying to figure out what the hell their shirt said. In English. At first, I thought my English had completely gone down the crapper. But then I realized the shirt was like this one and didn't make any sense anyways. Translation FAIL.
Anyways...my point is that I would love to people watch at home and watch the crazies in the mall but I'm actually having multiple Thanksgivings here. Yesterday, I had lunch with my roommates and we had stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans (I made them!!!), some sort of salad, and apple crisp that was INCREDIBLE. Then today, I had my NIE appointment (foreigner identification number appointment...I like to call it my green card) at 9 a.m. So Katie & I took a little stroll up the road to the office, I got to catch up with Rebecca because her appointment was today too, and then we went to this cute place called "CH y CH" (CH and CH) for hot chocolate and churros. (I like to call it CH and CH and CH...chocolate, churros, and CHelsea!! hah!) THEN I went with Katie to the post office to get my mail, which had many prezzies from Tim and Jeri (today Katie called them Jim and Terry by accident...it was pretty awesome. I might adopt it officially) including 420 candy canes, new glasses with my actual prescription, and the best thing yet:
CANDY CANE ANTLERS!!!!!!!!!!!! YES YES YES.
I can't wait to go to school with these things on. Seriously. Can't wait.
After the box, we went to this completely American "50's diner" called Mel's near our house. It was noon, but not open. So clearly it's not that American after all. We were American, though, as we banged on the window numerous times until we caught someone's attention and mouthed "What time do you open??" 1. Well fine, we'll be back, haha. So we went home, I called our internet company because they're liars and assholes, and finally Katie and Carissa drug me away from arguing with them so we could go get our Thanksgiving lunch. Spanish hamburgers are awful, by the way. Even if you go to McDonalds, they taste horrible. But Mel's is phenomenal. We had chili cheese fries, burgers, and a chocolate milkshake. It was gluttonous like Thanksgiving should be. And all of the waitresses wore really awful pastel pink satin dresses with hot pink Converse shoes. I'm also glad that's what Spaniards think America is like. I left my pink satin dress at home. The best part of the whole restarant, though was a sign on the wall that said "If you're not served in 5 minutes.........you'll be served in 9 or 10. Maybe 12. Relax." Now THAT is Spanish.
Anyways, I'm now waiting at home (recovering)...and a friend Isaac is over making pumpkin pie. I'm not sure where he found pumpkin but I'm pretty sure it probably cost him a few fingers and his first born child. After the pumpkin pie, I'm going to pretend to be doing homework until later tonight, when I'm meeting up with some other friends to have REAL Thanksgiving. With TURKEY!! IN SPAIN. I can't wait!! It's going to be awesome. I'm not going to eat for a week after this, atleast.
So. Luckily my Thanksgiving in Spain didn't suck like I thought it would! Also, I treated Thanksgiving like I did Halloween...I played holiday Santa and gave native Spaniards themed prezzies! On Halloween, I gave my baristas at the coffee shop spider rings, Halloween pencils, and body-part candy. They loved it. For Thanksgiving, I bought 3 boxes of assorted cookies. I gave one box to this cute girl at the bank down the street (she was really, really confused as to why I brought her cookies. I tried to explain without her I wouldn't have any money and I appreciated her help. She stood up and backed away slowly, I swear I thought she was going to call security, but then came around the counter to give me two kisses on the cheek. CUTE!!) Then I wrote my teachers at my school a letter about how I love the school and appreciate them including me in their mid-day drinking at the local bar and making me feel at home. I left them the other 2 boxes. It made me so happy to share Thanksgiving here because Spaniards are really not used to saying "thank you".
This also brings me to my teaching of Thanksgiving in my classes. I only had time to teach Thanksgiving in my 1st grade and 3rd grade classes, but that was plenty for me. The 1st graders loved coloring the turkey and the 3rd graders got consumed by looking up words in the dictionary. I'm really sad to report that my 3rd graders don't know how to use the dictionary. I made them write 4 things they are thankful for on feathers to paste on their fingers for a hand turkey. They know "family" and "friends" but couldn't get past it. I kept walking around the room and I saw that 6 different students wrote "sus", "v", and "con". Come again?? One girl wrote "adj family", "adj sister", "adj teachers". That's when I realized they would look up the words, and instead of understanding that the first thing that appears is the PART OF SPEECH, they wrote that down. Sus= sustantivo, or noun, v= verb, con= conjunction. Seriously?? Also the concept of a turkey is more foreign than pants in this country. I told the kids to draw legs and a beak. One student gave his turkey 4 legs (draw it, it's hilarious), another kid put 2 feathers on his thumb and index finger and 2 on his pinky and ring finger, leaving them middle finger open and super awkward, and another little girl gave herself a panic attack because she's an over acheiver and insisted on writing 8 feathers of things she is thankful for. She drew herself extra feathers and literally almost started crying when she realized there were 4 feathers for a reason. It doesn't always pay to suck up, haha.
In this class, though, the funniest thing happened. While the teacher was out of the room. Which left me to deal with the aftermath. Which is always bad. I was trying to write a paragraph in Spanish on the board about Thanksgiving to explain why we're making turkeys. I'm allergic to chalk, though, so I ended up sneezing pretty strongly. One of the kids in class said "Jesus", which is the response in Spanish. Another student wanted me to understand, so he, of course, said it in English. "I love jew!"
Oops. I started laughing and the worst part was there's a kid from Manchester in the class so he gasps and immediately hides his face because he's so embarrassed for the kid. Then he started "whispering" in Spanish "you said I love you!!! you told her you love her!!!!" So then all the kids know what he did and start laughing and pointing and he keeps saying "no!! ees dat...I no want to say dat!!" I told him it's okay, I love him too. I love all of my students, and you all love me too, right? This is my favorite part: when my students have no idea what I'm saying so they just nod and smile. Before I can say "awwww good" the kid from Manchester says "NO, I don't love you!!" and crosses his arms defiantly. I was insulted. No wonder people think the British are so cold. I tried to tell him you can love someone without loving them but that still didn't go over well. Oh well. Can't reach them all.
I'm also excited to say that I conquered my most annoying class. These 6th graders are so smart that no matter what I do, they're always talking and rude. I decided it was because they were a.) not challenged and b.) not interested. Therefore I had to think and figure out what could entertain them. On the way home from class one day, on the Metro, my answer came to me in the form of Britney Spears. I wrote the lyrics for them and made them fill in the blanks. To the song "Crazy".
They loved it. They loved it so much they actually changed the word "crazy" to Chelsea. And now they sing to me during recess. Also, the next week (which was the day before Thanksgiving) they worked together to change the lyrics to say "Chelsea, I'm so into you, you sacrificed to be here with us. Chelsea, you are so great. We're happy you are here with us"
Cute right?!? Next week I'm going to teach them how to rhyme, haha.
I'll leave you with this picture...me & friend Isaac trying to open the can of pumpkin with a bottle opener. Viking hat necessary. Happy Thanksgiving :)
Please note the fashion math here: the short length (x) is equal to (y), her crotch. If x = y, then z (the outfit) is trashy. And probably drafty. Basic math.
Typical Spanish. I couldn't begin to tell you how many Spanish women thought I was checking them out because I was staring at their chest, squinting intently, trying to figure out what the hell their shirt said. In English. At first, I thought my English had completely gone down the crapper. But then I realized the shirt was like this one and didn't make any sense anyways. Translation FAIL.
Anyways...my point is that I would love to people watch at home and watch the crazies in the mall but I'm actually having multiple Thanksgivings here. Yesterday, I had lunch with my roommates and we had stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans (I made them!!!), some sort of salad, and apple crisp that was INCREDIBLE. Then today, I had my NIE appointment (foreigner identification number appointment...I like to call it my green card) at 9 a.m. So Katie & I took a little stroll up the road to the office, I got to catch up with Rebecca because her appointment was today too, and then we went to this cute place called "CH y CH" (CH and CH) for hot chocolate and churros. (I like to call it CH and CH and CH...chocolate, churros, and CHelsea!! hah!) THEN I went with Katie to the post office to get my mail, which had many prezzies from Tim and Jeri (today Katie called them Jim and Terry by accident...it was pretty awesome. I might adopt it officially) including 420 candy canes, new glasses with my actual prescription, and the best thing yet:
CANDY CANE ANTLERS!!!!!!!!!!!! YES YES YES.
I can't wait to go to school with these things on. Seriously. Can't wait.
After the box, we went to this completely American "50's diner" called Mel's near our house. It was noon, but not open. So clearly it's not that American after all. We were American, though, as we banged on the window numerous times until we caught someone's attention and mouthed "What time do you open??" 1. Well fine, we'll be back, haha. So we went home, I called our internet company because they're liars and assholes, and finally Katie and Carissa drug me away from arguing with them so we could go get our Thanksgiving lunch. Spanish hamburgers are awful, by the way. Even if you go to McDonalds, they taste horrible. But Mel's is phenomenal. We had chili cheese fries, burgers, and a chocolate milkshake. It was gluttonous like Thanksgiving should be. And all of the waitresses wore really awful pastel pink satin dresses with hot pink Converse shoes. I'm also glad that's what Spaniards think America is like. I left my pink satin dress at home. The best part of the whole restarant, though was a sign on the wall that said "If you're not served in 5 minutes.........you'll be served in 9 or 10. Maybe 12. Relax." Now THAT is Spanish.
Anyways, I'm now waiting at home (recovering)...and a friend Isaac is over making pumpkin pie. I'm not sure where he found pumpkin but I'm pretty sure it probably cost him a few fingers and his first born child. After the pumpkin pie, I'm going to pretend to be doing homework until later tonight, when I'm meeting up with some other friends to have REAL Thanksgiving. With TURKEY!! IN SPAIN. I can't wait!! It's going to be awesome. I'm not going to eat for a week after this, atleast.
So. Luckily my Thanksgiving in Spain didn't suck like I thought it would! Also, I treated Thanksgiving like I did Halloween...I played holiday Santa and gave native Spaniards themed prezzies! On Halloween, I gave my baristas at the coffee shop spider rings, Halloween pencils, and body-part candy. They loved it. For Thanksgiving, I bought 3 boxes of assorted cookies. I gave one box to this cute girl at the bank down the street (she was really, really confused as to why I brought her cookies. I tried to explain without her I wouldn't have any money and I appreciated her help. She stood up and backed away slowly, I swear I thought she was going to call security, but then came around the counter to give me two kisses on the cheek. CUTE!!) Then I wrote my teachers at my school a letter about how I love the school and appreciate them including me in their mid-day drinking at the local bar and making me feel at home. I left them the other 2 boxes. It made me so happy to share Thanksgiving here because Spaniards are really not used to saying "thank you".
This also brings me to my teaching of Thanksgiving in my classes. I only had time to teach Thanksgiving in my 1st grade and 3rd grade classes, but that was plenty for me. The 1st graders loved coloring the turkey and the 3rd graders got consumed by looking up words in the dictionary. I'm really sad to report that my 3rd graders don't know how to use the dictionary. I made them write 4 things they are thankful for on feathers to paste on their fingers for a hand turkey. They know "family" and "friends" but couldn't get past it. I kept walking around the room and I saw that 6 different students wrote "sus", "v", and "con". Come again?? One girl wrote "adj family", "adj sister", "adj teachers". That's when I realized they would look up the words, and instead of understanding that the first thing that appears is the PART OF SPEECH, they wrote that down. Sus= sustantivo, or noun, v= verb, con= conjunction. Seriously?? Also the concept of a turkey is more foreign than pants in this country. I told the kids to draw legs and a beak. One student gave his turkey 4 legs (draw it, it's hilarious), another kid put 2 feathers on his thumb and index finger and 2 on his pinky and ring finger, leaving them middle finger open and super awkward, and another little girl gave herself a panic attack because she's an over acheiver and insisted on writing 8 feathers of things she is thankful for. She drew herself extra feathers and literally almost started crying when she realized there were 4 feathers for a reason. It doesn't always pay to suck up, haha.
In this class, though, the funniest thing happened. While the teacher was out of the room. Which left me to deal with the aftermath. Which is always bad. I was trying to write a paragraph in Spanish on the board about Thanksgiving to explain why we're making turkeys. I'm allergic to chalk, though, so I ended up sneezing pretty strongly. One of the kids in class said "Jesus", which is the response in Spanish. Another student wanted me to understand, so he, of course, said it in English. "I love jew!"
Oops. I started laughing and the worst part was there's a kid from Manchester in the class so he gasps and immediately hides his face because he's so embarrassed for the kid. Then he started "whispering" in Spanish "you said I love you!!! you told her you love her!!!!" So then all the kids know what he did and start laughing and pointing and he keeps saying "no!! ees dat...I no want to say dat!!" I told him it's okay, I love him too. I love all of my students, and you all love me too, right? This is my favorite part: when my students have no idea what I'm saying so they just nod and smile. Before I can say "awwww good" the kid from Manchester says "NO, I don't love you!!" and crosses his arms defiantly. I was insulted. No wonder people think the British are so cold. I tried to tell him you can love someone without loving them but that still didn't go over well. Oh well. Can't reach them all.
I'm also excited to say that I conquered my most annoying class. These 6th graders are so smart that no matter what I do, they're always talking and rude. I decided it was because they were a.) not challenged and b.) not interested. Therefore I had to think and figure out what could entertain them. On the way home from class one day, on the Metro, my answer came to me in the form of Britney Spears. I wrote the lyrics for them and made them fill in the blanks. To the song "Crazy".
They loved it. They loved it so much they actually changed the word "crazy" to Chelsea. And now they sing to me during recess. Also, the next week (which was the day before Thanksgiving) they worked together to change the lyrics to say "Chelsea, I'm so into you, you sacrificed to be here with us. Chelsea, you are so great. We're happy you are here with us"
Cute right?!? Next week I'm going to teach them how to rhyme, haha.
I'll leave you with this picture...me & friend Isaac trying to open the can of pumpkin with a bottle opener. Viking hat necessary. Happy Thanksgiving :)
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Crack Bandz & awkward things my students say...
Today is Thursday, which means I have almost successfully survived another week in school! Each Friday at 5:00 p.m., my little heart bursts with joy because I get to take a two hour nap to welcome the weekend.
Don't get me wrong, I love my kids and teaching...it's just a rollercoaster. I have certain classes that I know will be fun & interactive, and I know there are some that are tiny little devils just waiting to cause problems. The rest, however, are like those mystery cards on Wheel of Fortune...could be jackpot, could be bankrupt. Also, you never know what is going to come out of the kids' mouths.
For example: it surprises me how many words in English, when pronounced incorrectly, sound inappropriate or wrong. This being said, I've found out most of these words because Spanish students learning English, just like English students learning Spanish, try their best to utlilize "Spanglish". In English, people usually just add "o" to the end of a word....like "car-o", or "kitchen-o", or "basketball-o". Sometimes (not often) that works. In Spanish, though, it goes backwards. Therefore kids usually just drop the 'a' or 'o' at the end of the word. A few weeks ago, when we were learning about Halloween, the kids employed this technique constantly. I showed them a picture of a bat (murcielago in Spanish) and they all started screaming "MURCIEL!!! MURCIEL!!!" ....murciel? Really? Have you really never seen Batman?? Or pumpkin (in Spanish: calabaza) "CALABAZ!!! CALABAZ!!!" or the best one yet, ghost (fantasma): "FANTAS!! FANTAS!!!" No, Fanta is a drink. The best part is I would usually give them this look that's like "are you freaking serious right now??" which apparently, in body language, translates to "scream your wrong answer louder so it will magically become correct".
Knowing Spanish helps me understand what they say when they do this, but sometimes these little tricks don't work. At school, there are 2 "toys" that are really popular right now. One is SpongeBob trading cards...they're like baseball cards but in my opinion substantially more worthless because they have pictures of fictional underwater cartoons (aka SpongeBob, or Bob Esponja, and his best friend Patricio [Patrick]...etc. etc.) These kids go crazy about their cards. They even have albums to keep the cards in. Nuts. The second, which is even more popular, are those Silly Bandz, the rubber bands shaped like crap in different colors. I choose to call them "crack bandz", because the kids trade and show off these things as if they were worth a kilo of heroin. If you ask them (and I have made this mistake many times now) to show you their crack bandz, they will roll up their sleeve to display 45 different colors of bands all the way up to their elbows and show you, one by one, what each bracelet is. Not only do they cut off circulation, but you usually can't tell what the hell they are. Then I look like an asshole because I'm not getting how earth-shatteringly cool their rubber band is.
Let me show you: this is an actual Crack Band.
Florescent orange and annoying, in all its glory. Tell me, do you see what the hell it is?? I don't. And I didn't at recess one day. There's this kid in one of my 6th grade classes, he's twice as tall as the other kids, and wears glasses that are as thick as coke bottles, which makes his eyes look 4 times bigger than reality. He's decently nerdy and has also recently started hugging me and telling me he loves me and that I'm his best friend. Don't be fooled though, he has tons of friends, he just like sucking up and hates when his class gets in trouble for being major a-holes. Anyways, one day he comes up to me at recess and says "He-llo Chelsea!! How are jew today? Eh, Chelsea, loo-k! Jew see? Do jew hab any of dees?" and shows me his array of 5 Crack Bandz. (P.S. only 5! I was surprised.) I said "oooh, yes I've seen those. Very nice. What are they?" (Mistake #1.) He starts taking them off and showing me..."dees one ees cat, dees one ees dog, dees one is beard--" I interjected and asked "beard?? OH, bird. B-IR-D. Not beard. Beards can't fly. Continue" He laughed, but still called it a beard by accident. "Dees one ees rabbeet, and dees one ees for jew!!"
The kid GAVE ME a Crack Band! It's the cutest thing in the world. One of the girls in my private English lessons gave me one too. She also has thick glasses and a (therefore magnified) slight cross-eye, must be a vision-impaired thing. Don't get me wrong though, that girl is cute as crap. It's kind of like this, but less Asian:
Anyways he gives me the Crack Band (see above). I say "ooooh, thank you!! It's great! Umm...what is it?" He takes it from me, tries to straighten it out, and says "Loo-k! Ees a...hmm, how jew say? Een Spaneesh ees a foca!" He said it very quickly, though, so I didn't catch the word. And I still couldn't figure out what it looked like. So I'm squinting and looking at it and trying to maintain a decent expression of overall appreciation and asked "how do you say it in English? Do you know?" (Mistake #2) He looks at it and without hesitation reverts back to Spanglish. "Ees a, jew know, ees a fock!! Jess? A fock!!"
My immediate thought was "well, if you turn it sideways it looks kind of phallic but that can't possibly be right...can it??" He was so excited with his exponentially large eyes looking all hopeful like I understood what the hell he was saying. I nodded a couple of times but decided I wasn't going to wear the Crack Band if it was really supposed to be part of the male anatomy, because that's just too far. Plus, I could just see the kids seeing me wearing it and asking what it was and me having to explain it and....yeah, no. While all of this flashed through my head I finally concluded that I should just ask him again in Spanish. So finally I said "hey, what is it again in Spanish??" "pues es una foca!!" Una foca. A seal. Duh. It was upside down, and sideways.
Finally relieved that it was not a penis, I wore it proudly for the rest of the day. Kids sure say the darndest things. All time time. Here's a list of things kids said last week:
1. I asked "how was your Halloween??" They all responded "good, I was a (insert decently scary Halloween related entity)!!" I tried to explain "I was a viking (and a cute one at that! [see below]) but you don't HAVE to always be scary! For example you could be SpongeBob, or a princess, or a cloud...anything!" One of my students raises her hand really excitedly and says "or jew could be a sexy bampire!! Jess, jess!! Ees on TV an dee Internet! Eeen United States people dress up like da sexy bampire!" .......great. Thanks, American culture, for subjecting me to one of the most awkward conversations of my life. "Yes, sometimes adults like to dress sexy because they cannot go trick-or-treating..." but I was cut off by my students brainstorming different outfits they could make sexy. "Jew could be a sexy mommy (mummy), a sexy cat, a sexy pirate, a sexy eskeleton..." Okay okay, you can really make anything sexy. Point, 6th graders. *sigh*
2. The same sweetheart that gave me the orange seal Crack Band struck again later in class that same day. I was walking through class while they were doing a worksheet and one of the girls said she liked my nail polish. It was black and glittery (left over from Halloween the Sunday before) so I showed her. He looks over and says "Chelsea, can I ask jew a question? Are jew gotic?" Gothic?!? ME?? Seriously? I think the appropriate, politically correct teacher thing to say would be "gothic is a stereotype that is just a social construct without any adequate foundation". Atleast, in retrospect, that seems more appropriate than my answer. Instead of approaching it that way, I simply laughed in his face and told him "am I GOTHIC? Look. I have blonde hair. I am wearing a purple shirt. I'm wearing jeans. NO, I'm not gothic just because of my nail polish. Black is stylish these days anyways". As if my affirmation of the stereotype wasn't bad enough, his classmates started telling him other outfits I had worn and other characteristics of mine that were clearly against the stereotype. Haha, my bad.
3. In my class of 4th graders, we were reading a story about Sally who wants to make a milkshake (which is, by the way, absurd anyways because Spain's concept of "milkshake" is chocolate milk...) and ends up exploding it everywhere because she was too young and needed help. I was trying to explain that her brother was laughing because she was going to "get in trouble" and it "wasn't his fault". I thought 4th graders should know this vocabulary because they could use it often. I know I did when I was little. Hell, I still do today. It's never my fault. Anyways, I wrote on the board "meterse en un lio= to get in trouble", and "no es su culpa= not his/her fault." As I'm writing in Spanish, one of the kids gasps and says [in Spanish] "OH!!! So she knows Spanish then!??" and I kind of roll my eyes while still writing thinking "yeah, duh, they've finally figured it out..". However, before I could confront their accusations, another kid literally smacks that kid in the arm with their ruler and says, "no, STUPID, she doesn't KNOW Spanish, she can only write in Spanish."
Great work, kids, haha. Keep up that believer attitude. That mindset is how kids, like my brother, end up believing in Santa Claus until they are 15. In any case that's not my brother, though, I find it endearing and cute. Stayed tuned til next time when I write about my new favorite subject: My new Master's classes.
P.S. this is me as a viking!! I inhereted the outfit from a boy one of my roommates brought home. I had to alter it a bit though...so he probably won't want it back once he sees that it now is thigh-high and has a V-neck cut into it. Hehe. Happy Halloween!!
Don't get me wrong, I love my kids and teaching...it's just a rollercoaster. I have certain classes that I know will be fun & interactive, and I know there are some that are tiny little devils just waiting to cause problems. The rest, however, are like those mystery cards on Wheel of Fortune...could be jackpot, could be bankrupt. Also, you never know what is going to come out of the kids' mouths.
For example: it surprises me how many words in English, when pronounced incorrectly, sound inappropriate or wrong. This being said, I've found out most of these words because Spanish students learning English, just like English students learning Spanish, try their best to utlilize "Spanglish". In English, people usually just add "o" to the end of a word....like "car-o", or "kitchen-o", or "basketball-o". Sometimes (not often) that works. In Spanish, though, it goes backwards. Therefore kids usually just drop the 'a' or 'o' at the end of the word. A few weeks ago, when we were learning about Halloween, the kids employed this technique constantly. I showed them a picture of a bat (murcielago in Spanish) and they all started screaming "MURCIEL!!! MURCIEL!!!" ....murciel? Really? Have you really never seen Batman?? Or pumpkin (in Spanish: calabaza) "CALABAZ!!! CALABAZ!!!" or the best one yet, ghost (fantasma): "FANTAS!! FANTAS!!!" No, Fanta is a drink. The best part is I would usually give them this look that's like "are you freaking serious right now??" which apparently, in body language, translates to "scream your wrong answer louder so it will magically become correct".
Knowing Spanish helps me understand what they say when they do this, but sometimes these little tricks don't work. At school, there are 2 "toys" that are really popular right now. One is SpongeBob trading cards...they're like baseball cards but in my opinion substantially more worthless because they have pictures of fictional underwater cartoons (aka SpongeBob, or Bob Esponja, and his best friend Patricio [Patrick]...etc. etc.) These kids go crazy about their cards. They even have albums to keep the cards in. Nuts. The second, which is even more popular, are those Silly Bandz, the rubber bands shaped like crap in different colors. I choose to call them "crack bandz", because the kids trade and show off these things as if they were worth a kilo of heroin. If you ask them (and I have made this mistake many times now) to show you their crack bandz, they will roll up their sleeve to display 45 different colors of bands all the way up to their elbows and show you, one by one, what each bracelet is. Not only do they cut off circulation, but you usually can't tell what the hell they are. Then I look like an asshole because I'm not getting how earth-shatteringly cool their rubber band is.
Let me show you: this is an actual Crack Band.
Florescent orange and annoying, in all its glory. Tell me, do you see what the hell it is?? I don't. And I didn't at recess one day. There's this kid in one of my 6th grade classes, he's twice as tall as the other kids, and wears glasses that are as thick as coke bottles, which makes his eyes look 4 times bigger than reality. He's decently nerdy and has also recently started hugging me and telling me he loves me and that I'm his best friend. Don't be fooled though, he has tons of friends, he just like sucking up and hates when his class gets in trouble for being major a-holes. Anyways, one day he comes up to me at recess and says "He-llo Chelsea!! How are jew today? Eh, Chelsea, loo-k! Jew see? Do jew hab any of dees?" and shows me his array of 5 Crack Bandz. (P.S. only 5! I was surprised.) I said "oooh, yes I've seen those. Very nice. What are they?" (Mistake #1.) He starts taking them off and showing me..."dees one ees cat, dees one ees dog, dees one is beard--" I interjected and asked "beard?? OH, bird. B-IR-D. Not beard. Beards can't fly. Continue" He laughed, but still called it a beard by accident. "Dees one ees rabbeet, and dees one ees for jew!!"
The kid GAVE ME a Crack Band! It's the cutest thing in the world. One of the girls in my private English lessons gave me one too. She also has thick glasses and a (therefore magnified) slight cross-eye, must be a vision-impaired thing. Don't get me wrong though, that girl is cute as crap. It's kind of like this, but less Asian:
Anyways he gives me the Crack Band (see above). I say "ooooh, thank you!! It's great! Umm...what is it?" He takes it from me, tries to straighten it out, and says "Loo-k! Ees a...hmm, how jew say? Een Spaneesh ees a foca!" He said it very quickly, though, so I didn't catch the word. And I still couldn't figure out what it looked like. So I'm squinting and looking at it and trying to maintain a decent expression of overall appreciation and asked "how do you say it in English? Do you know?" (Mistake #2) He looks at it and without hesitation reverts back to Spanglish. "Ees a, jew know, ees a fock!! Jess? A fock!!"
My immediate thought was "well, if you turn it sideways it looks kind of phallic but that can't possibly be right...can it??" He was so excited with his exponentially large eyes looking all hopeful like I understood what the hell he was saying. I nodded a couple of times but decided I wasn't going to wear the Crack Band if it was really supposed to be part of the male anatomy, because that's just too far. Plus, I could just see the kids seeing me wearing it and asking what it was and me having to explain it and....yeah, no. While all of this flashed through my head I finally concluded that I should just ask him again in Spanish. So finally I said "hey, what is it again in Spanish??" "pues es una foca!!" Una foca. A seal. Duh. It was upside down, and sideways.
Finally relieved that it was not a penis, I wore it proudly for the rest of the day. Kids sure say the darndest things. All time time. Here's a list of things kids said last week:
1. I asked "how was your Halloween??" They all responded "good, I was a (insert decently scary Halloween related entity)!!" I tried to explain "I was a viking (and a cute one at that! [see below]) but you don't HAVE to always be scary! For example you could be SpongeBob, or a princess, or a cloud...anything!" One of my students raises her hand really excitedly and says "or jew could be a sexy bampire!! Jess, jess!! Ees on TV an dee Internet! Eeen United States people dress up like da sexy bampire!" .......great. Thanks, American culture, for subjecting me to one of the most awkward conversations of my life. "Yes, sometimes adults like to dress sexy because they cannot go trick-or-treating..." but I was cut off by my students brainstorming different outfits they could make sexy. "Jew could be a sexy mommy (mummy), a sexy cat, a sexy pirate, a sexy eskeleton..." Okay okay, you can really make anything sexy. Point, 6th graders. *sigh*
2. The same sweetheart that gave me the orange seal Crack Band struck again later in class that same day. I was walking through class while they were doing a worksheet and one of the girls said she liked my nail polish. It was black and glittery (left over from Halloween the Sunday before) so I showed her. He looks over and says "Chelsea, can I ask jew a question? Are jew gotic?" Gothic?!? ME?? Seriously? I think the appropriate, politically correct teacher thing to say would be "gothic is a stereotype that is just a social construct without any adequate foundation". Atleast, in retrospect, that seems more appropriate than my answer. Instead of approaching it that way, I simply laughed in his face and told him "am I GOTHIC? Look. I have blonde hair. I am wearing a purple shirt. I'm wearing jeans. NO, I'm not gothic just because of my nail polish. Black is stylish these days anyways". As if my affirmation of the stereotype wasn't bad enough, his classmates started telling him other outfits I had worn and other characteristics of mine that were clearly against the stereotype. Haha, my bad.
3. In my class of 4th graders, we were reading a story about Sally who wants to make a milkshake (which is, by the way, absurd anyways because Spain's concept of "milkshake" is chocolate milk...) and ends up exploding it everywhere because she was too young and needed help. I was trying to explain that her brother was laughing because she was going to "get in trouble" and it "wasn't his fault". I thought 4th graders should know this vocabulary because they could use it often. I know I did when I was little. Hell, I still do today. It's never my fault. Anyways, I wrote on the board "meterse en un lio= to get in trouble", and "no es su culpa= not his/her fault." As I'm writing in Spanish, one of the kids gasps and says [in Spanish] "OH!!! So she knows Spanish then!??" and I kind of roll my eyes while still writing thinking "yeah, duh, they've finally figured it out..". However, before I could confront their accusations, another kid literally smacks that kid in the arm with their ruler and says, "no, STUPID, she doesn't KNOW Spanish, she can only write in Spanish."
Great work, kids, haha. Keep up that believer attitude. That mindset is how kids, like my brother, end up believing in Santa Claus until they are 15. In any case that's not my brother, though, I find it endearing and cute. Stayed tuned til next time when I write about my new favorite subject: My new Master's classes.
P.S. this is me as a viking!! I inhereted the outfit from a boy one of my roommates brought home. I had to alter it a bit though...so he probably won't want it back once he sees that it now is thigh-high and has a V-neck cut into it. Hehe. Happy Halloween!!
Friday, November 12, 2010
"sex big pink fish shitting in the chi-cken!"
I'm sure that it is obvious by the fact that I haven't written a blog post in over a week (or has it been two weeks?) that life has been very stressful. Some might say unnecessarily stressful. I do.
First of all, I've started compiling a list of things that are apparently "normal" in Spain but that I'm pretty sure are going to kill me.
1. Buses. Okay in Indianapolis the public transportation is shitty, to say the least. Hardly anybody takes it because it's unreliable and whatever. Here, I find above-ground transportation more comforting than underground transportation. If a bomb goes off and I'm in a bus, I can atleast tuck & roll out the window/door/etc. If a bomb goes off in the Metro, I figure I'm royally screwed. Where are you gonna tuck & roll in the Metro? Two choices: into the bomb, or away from the bomb into a dark, damp, shit-smelling black abyss. I think I'd rather take the sparkly bomb. These are things I think about, p.s., while I'm sitting on the Metro. That, and I also sing this song in my head:
Not the whole song, of course, just the chorus. Anyways, I digress. The buses have an easy escape route but what they lack is competent drivers. Spain drivers are crazy as hell. First of all, they know exactly how wide their car is in their minds so when there is a small gap between cars, or a parking spot, instead of advancing with caution, they jam the accelerator and head into the space at full force, Harry Potter style, as if the spot was going to magically gape open and accomodate their vehicle perfectly. That's all fine and dandy if you're in YOUR car. But when I'm on the bus, and the bus is tall, and the bus drivers pedal-to-the-metal at a 2 foot space between 2 teensy European cars...well...it's enough to test my bladder strength. They blast up to the two cars, then stop almost immediately slamming on the breaks. Then, they inch towards the space and use their mirrors to guide through. They will literally come within 3 centimeters of hitting a vehicle, and even use their hydrolics (intended for letting passengers off the bus with ease) to tip the bus back and forth to wedge between obstacles. If that doesn't work, they will sit there and lay on the horn until the owner of the double-parked car comes out and moves their vehicle. This is 23% effective. Luckily, when this makes me late to work, all of the teachers already know the bus sucks or just assumed I was sick. Ain't no thang.
This is just the tip of the iceburg though. 3 times now I have caught bus drivers reading the newspaper while driving. I mean.....okay. You're in the car, by yourself. You check a text message, maybe shoot one back while in traffic. Bad traffic. However while driving a public transportation bus, filled with 20 innocent passengers? Not in traffic? While driving at 35+ mph down the street?? Jesuscristo. The first time I was like, "well...he's at a stoplight. Maybe he'll put it awa...oh, it's green...he's moving....and...he's....still reading. Okay well, awesome..." Then I thought well not all drivers can be perfect. Then I saw 2 other ones (different ones) doing the same thing. I don't care if my bus driver is culturally up to date or relevant. I care about you not killing me in a firey crash involving a moped and 3 geriatric pedestrians. (ok ok that wouldn't make much of a fire, persay...) Whatever. The buses are going to lead to my demise, I'm certain.
2. If the buses don't kill me, the second hand smoke will. I'm cool with it in bars and during recess with the teachers...totally understandable. Here's where it starts interfereing in my life: at home and with the children. First of all, my tuberculosis-inclined neighbor downstairs (the old dude who has the nasty-ass cough) sounds like he is losing a decent percentage of his lungs everytime he coughs (which is approximately every 20 minutes, but every 10 minutes conveniently when the normal hours of sleeping approach. Murphy's law.) Anyways I've inadvertantly discovered why homeboy has his disease: he smokes. How do I know? Well, our clothes line is located directly above his window, and I've noticed that my clothes now smell like stale, nasty smoke. Not a fun bonfire smoke. An annoying, old man, coughing up a lung kind of smoke. Thanks, asshole. I don't have enough HANGERS to dry my crap inside. So now I can only wash like 10 articles of clothing at once.
I'm gonna stop popping Mucinex in his mailbox and just let him go. My clothes & sleep cycle with thank me.
Another surpring source of second hand smoke is 12 year old boys. I got lost going to class the other day (the building had changed last minute) and I turned the corner only to run into two little boys leaning against the brick wall smoking cigarettes. I literally stopped in my tracks and stared at them. Until I realized I was legitmately staring and just walked past them. Not before one of those little brats blew his smoke in my face, though. You know what makes you SUPER COOL? Burning tabacco stuffed paper, inhaling the byproduct, and blowing it at innocent people's faces as if you were breathing fire...just kidding. Hint: Your smoke won't hurt me. But my fist will bust your nose. I'm older, smarter, and ballsier than you are, little 12 year old. I'll be watchin out for you. Who the hell sold that kid cigs anyways??
Going back to my list of "normal" things that might kill me...
3. Victor. Who's victor? Well...first I'd like to admit that I hate all of my 2nd grade classes. Literally, all of them are headaches. There are, collectively, about 10 students that I love because they hug me at recess and are super cute...I mean they're all decently cute...but in general they are rotten as shit and refuse to shut their mouths for 5 consecutive minutes for anybody, including their legitimate teachers. And it's not just me. Their teachers hate them too. They've told me so. I believe it's something about the age. "Terrible 2's"...kinda.
Example of why I hate them: (actually this isn't their fault, it's just funny as hell)
Last Friday, in 2nd grade, I was supposed to teach each class the sound "i"...the short 'i' as found in the words 'sick', 'fish', 'bit', 'stick'...etc. This sound does not exist in Spanish. The 'i' in Spanish sounds like a long 'e'...like 'beat', 'meet', 'ski'...this is why, when you hear a Spanish speaker trying to say the word "fish", they say "feesh" instead. So I did my best to help them learn this sound. In their book, they were supposed to say "Ingrid insect" and "six big pink fish sitting in the kitchen". We started practicing with just Ingrid insect. It went like this:
Me: Repeat! "Ingrid insect!"
Them: Ingrid insex!!
Me: ..........not quite. Inse-c-t. In-sec-t. T. Okay let's try again! Insect!
Them: insex!!
Me: ...........uhh, yeah. Good. Insect. Let's move on to the next sentence.
Now, before starting this sentence I figured one of two things would happen. First, they would probably just mumble the rhythm of the sentence without pronouncing anything. Or, if they were determined, they would try their best to pronounce some words but at best would probably still say one or two of the words with the "ee" sound. No harm, no foul. So we started practicing 4 words at a time, at first, so they didn't get overwhelmed. Here we go:
Me: six big pink fish....
Them : seex big pink feesh...
Me: no no!! remember, there is no feesh. Siiiiiiiiiix. Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiish.
Them : six. fish.
Me: Great!!! Okay, ready? Sitting in the kit-chen.
Them: sitting in the keet-chen.
Me: Close! Kiiiiiitchen.
Them: kitchen!
Me: great!! SO GOOD! Think you can do it all at once?
Them: Yes!! yes!!!
Me: okaaaaaay....let's repeat after the CD. Here we go!
CD: Six big pink fish sitting in the kit-chen!
Them: sex big pink fish shitting in the chick-en!!
Here's an amateur sketch of what I looked like:
Yup. The worst part is they were all looking up at me with those innocent eyes waiting for positive feedback and amazement at their epic English skills. What the hell was I supposed to say?? In the end, after thinking and biting my tongue, I decided that really the textbook set them up for complete failure and just wanted a cheap laugh because it was dumb to have them pronounce fish and sitting together and...just....total failure. I had them try it 3 more times with the exact same outcome. Sex big pink fish, shitting in the chick-en. Sigh. I officially don't care if they pronounce 'i' wrong anymore. At all.
Anyways, sidetracked again. These 2nd graders, though, are clearly a handful. However, in one of the classes is this little boy named Victor. He's borderline albino, with bright bright blonde hair, and I have been told he is a "special boy"...although I have yet to figure out if special means slow, troublesome, or something different. Spain's vague. Anyways Victor is one of those kids in class who usually chews on his crayons, has random outbursts trying to get attention, and somehow always manages to have snot coming out of his nose of awkward and nauseating colors. Because I don't speak Spanish, Victor stays clear of me. Usually. Sometimes he comes up and says hello, stares at me, and then sits down. Sweet kid, really, haha. You won't catch him yelling about taking a crap in poultry like his classmates.
Anyways, at lunch one day, he started talking to me! I was so excited. I said, "hello Victor! How are you?" and he started talking to me in Spanish and then randomly saying "Chelsea! hello!" So we talked back and forth in our odd language combination, and then eventually I told him to eat his soup and tried to walk away. He then said "Chelsea!!" so I turned around and said what? with my hands in the air acting confused so he'd know what I meant. He looks me dead in the eye, holds up his hands in the shape of a gun, pretends to cock his thumb, AIMS, and then "shoots" me. With his hand gun. (See above for an amateur sketch of my reaction.) I said very firmly "Victor, NO. Guns are BAD." He started laughing and said "no, no, no..." so I said "good, no guns. NO." He repeated "no, no, no.................................yes, yes, yes!!" And then held up his hand gun to shoot me again. Twice this time.
I get that kids don't understand the severity of playing with guns, but there's a fine line between a simple, one-handed L-shaped thumb and forefinger gun, and a two-handed bazuka-esque gun that includes cocking a barrel, AIMING, and a strong recoil. Seriously. I hope Victor's parents are pacifists. And I'm glad we're not in Texas.
Phew. I was hoping to blog about all the crazy in my school but it looks like I'll have to wait until next time. And blog more often. Guess this is ta-ta for now!
First of all, I've started compiling a list of things that are apparently "normal" in Spain but that I'm pretty sure are going to kill me.
1. Buses. Okay in Indianapolis the public transportation is shitty, to say the least. Hardly anybody takes it because it's unreliable and whatever. Here, I find above-ground transportation more comforting than underground transportation. If a bomb goes off and I'm in a bus, I can atleast tuck & roll out the window/door/etc. If a bomb goes off in the Metro, I figure I'm royally screwed. Where are you gonna tuck & roll in the Metro? Two choices: into the bomb, or away from the bomb into a dark, damp, shit-smelling black abyss. I think I'd rather take the sparkly bomb. These are things I think about, p.s., while I'm sitting on the Metro. That, and I also sing this song in my head:
Not the whole song, of course, just the chorus. Anyways, I digress. The buses have an easy escape route but what they lack is competent drivers. Spain drivers are crazy as hell. First of all, they know exactly how wide their car is in their minds so when there is a small gap between cars, or a parking spot, instead of advancing with caution, they jam the accelerator and head into the space at full force, Harry Potter style, as if the spot was going to magically gape open and accomodate their vehicle perfectly. That's all fine and dandy if you're in YOUR car. But when I'm on the bus, and the bus is tall, and the bus drivers pedal-to-the-metal at a 2 foot space between 2 teensy European cars...well...it's enough to test my bladder strength. They blast up to the two cars, then stop almost immediately slamming on the breaks. Then, they inch towards the space and use their mirrors to guide through. They will literally come within 3 centimeters of hitting a vehicle, and even use their hydrolics (intended for letting passengers off the bus with ease) to tip the bus back and forth to wedge between obstacles. If that doesn't work, they will sit there and lay on the horn until the owner of the double-parked car comes out and moves their vehicle. This is 23% effective. Luckily, when this makes me late to work, all of the teachers already know the bus sucks or just assumed I was sick. Ain't no thang.
This is just the tip of the iceburg though. 3 times now I have caught bus drivers reading the newspaper while driving. I mean.....okay. You're in the car, by yourself. You check a text message, maybe shoot one back while in traffic. Bad traffic. However while driving a public transportation bus, filled with 20 innocent passengers? Not in traffic? While driving at 35+ mph down the street?? Jesuscristo. The first time I was like, "well...he's at a stoplight. Maybe he'll put it awa...oh, it's green...he's moving....and...he's....still reading. Okay well, awesome..." Then I thought well not all drivers can be perfect. Then I saw 2 other ones (different ones) doing the same thing. I don't care if my bus driver is culturally up to date or relevant. I care about you not killing me in a firey crash involving a moped and 3 geriatric pedestrians. (ok ok that wouldn't make much of a fire, persay...) Whatever. The buses are going to lead to my demise, I'm certain.
2. If the buses don't kill me, the second hand smoke will. I'm cool with it in bars and during recess with the teachers...totally understandable. Here's where it starts interfereing in my life: at home and with the children. First of all, my tuberculosis-inclined neighbor downstairs (the old dude who has the nasty-ass cough) sounds like he is losing a decent percentage of his lungs everytime he coughs (which is approximately every 20 minutes, but every 10 minutes conveniently when the normal hours of sleeping approach. Murphy's law.) Anyways I've inadvertantly discovered why homeboy has his disease: he smokes. How do I know? Well, our clothes line is located directly above his window, and I've noticed that my clothes now smell like stale, nasty smoke. Not a fun bonfire smoke. An annoying, old man, coughing up a lung kind of smoke. Thanks, asshole. I don't have enough HANGERS to dry my crap inside. So now I can only wash like 10 articles of clothing at once.
I'm gonna stop popping Mucinex in his mailbox and just let him go. My clothes & sleep cycle with thank me.
Another surpring source of second hand smoke is 12 year old boys. I got lost going to class the other day (the building had changed last minute) and I turned the corner only to run into two little boys leaning against the brick wall smoking cigarettes. I literally stopped in my tracks and stared at them. Until I realized I was legitmately staring and just walked past them. Not before one of those little brats blew his smoke in my face, though. You know what makes you SUPER COOL? Burning tabacco stuffed paper, inhaling the byproduct, and blowing it at innocent people's faces as if you were breathing fire...just kidding. Hint: Your smoke won't hurt me. But my fist will bust your nose. I'm older, smarter, and ballsier than you are, little 12 year old. I'll be watchin out for you. Who the hell sold that kid cigs anyways??
Going back to my list of "normal" things that might kill me...
3. Victor. Who's victor? Well...first I'd like to admit that I hate all of my 2nd grade classes. Literally, all of them are headaches. There are, collectively, about 10 students that I love because they hug me at recess and are super cute...I mean they're all decently cute...but in general they are rotten as shit and refuse to shut their mouths for 5 consecutive minutes for anybody, including their legitimate teachers. And it's not just me. Their teachers hate them too. They've told me so. I believe it's something about the age. "Terrible 2's"...kinda.
Example of why I hate them: (actually this isn't their fault, it's just funny as hell)
Last Friday, in 2nd grade, I was supposed to teach each class the sound "i"...the short 'i' as found in the words 'sick', 'fish', 'bit', 'stick'...etc. This sound does not exist in Spanish. The 'i' in Spanish sounds like a long 'e'...like 'beat', 'meet', 'ski'...this is why, when you hear a Spanish speaker trying to say the word "fish", they say "feesh" instead. So I did my best to help them learn this sound. In their book, they were supposed to say "Ingrid insect" and "six big pink fish sitting in the kitchen". We started practicing with just Ingrid insect. It went like this:
Me: Repeat! "Ingrid insect!"
Them: Ingrid insex!!
Me: ..........not quite. Inse-c-t. In-sec-t. T. Okay let's try again! Insect!
Them: insex!!
Me: ...........uhh, yeah. Good. Insect. Let's move on to the next sentence.
Now, before starting this sentence I figured one of two things would happen. First, they would probably just mumble the rhythm of the sentence without pronouncing anything. Or, if they were determined, they would try their best to pronounce some words but at best would probably still say one or two of the words with the "ee" sound. No harm, no foul. So we started practicing 4 words at a time, at first, so they didn't get overwhelmed. Here we go:
Me: six big pink fish....
Them : seex big pink feesh...
Me: no no!! remember, there is no feesh. Siiiiiiiiiix. Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiish.
Them : six. fish.
Me: Great!!! Okay, ready? Sitting in the kit-chen.
Them: sitting in the keet-chen.
Me: Close! Kiiiiiitchen.
Them: kitchen!
Me: great!! SO GOOD! Think you can do it all at once?
Them: Yes!! yes!!!
Me: okaaaaaay....let's repeat after the CD. Here we go!
CD: Six big pink fish sitting in the kit-chen!
Them: sex big pink fish shitting in the chick-en!!
Here's an amateur sketch of what I looked like:
Yup. The worst part is they were all looking up at me with those innocent eyes waiting for positive feedback and amazement at their epic English skills. What the hell was I supposed to say?? In the end, after thinking and biting my tongue, I decided that really the textbook set them up for complete failure and just wanted a cheap laugh because it was dumb to have them pronounce fish and sitting together and...just....total failure. I had them try it 3 more times with the exact same outcome. Sex big pink fish, shitting in the chick-en. Sigh. I officially don't care if they pronounce 'i' wrong anymore. At all.
Anyways, sidetracked again. These 2nd graders, though, are clearly a handful. However, in one of the classes is this little boy named Victor. He's borderline albino, with bright bright blonde hair, and I have been told he is a "special boy"...although I have yet to figure out if special means slow, troublesome, or something different. Spain's vague. Anyways Victor is one of those kids in class who usually chews on his crayons, has random outbursts trying to get attention, and somehow always manages to have snot coming out of his nose of awkward and nauseating colors. Because I don't speak Spanish, Victor stays clear of me. Usually. Sometimes he comes up and says hello, stares at me, and then sits down. Sweet kid, really, haha. You won't catch him yelling about taking a crap in poultry like his classmates.
Anyways, at lunch one day, he started talking to me! I was so excited. I said, "hello Victor! How are you?" and he started talking to me in Spanish and then randomly saying "Chelsea! hello!" So we talked back and forth in our odd language combination, and then eventually I told him to eat his soup and tried to walk away. He then said "Chelsea!!" so I turned around and said what? with my hands in the air acting confused so he'd know what I meant. He looks me dead in the eye, holds up his hands in the shape of a gun, pretends to cock his thumb, AIMS, and then "shoots" me. With his hand gun. (See above for an amateur sketch of my reaction.) I said very firmly "Victor, NO. Guns are BAD." He started laughing and said "no, no, no..." so I said "good, no guns. NO." He repeated "no, no, no.................................yes, yes, yes!!" And then held up his hand gun to shoot me again. Twice this time.
I get that kids don't understand the severity of playing with guns, but there's a fine line between a simple, one-handed L-shaped thumb and forefinger gun, and a two-handed bazuka-esque gun that includes cocking a barrel, AIMING, and a strong recoil. Seriously. I hope Victor's parents are pacifists. And I'm glad we're not in Texas.
Phew. I was hoping to blog about all the crazy in my school but it looks like I'll have to wait until next time. And blog more often. Guess this is ta-ta for now!
Thursday, October 21, 2010
MY BABIES! What is your favorite clothes?
It's that time again...time for an update on my 4th grade classes, also known as "Colonel Nun dominates 4th grade." In my head.
I see it's been quite awhile since I've posted...so much has happened. So so much. I'm going to just start in and see how far I get, haha. Starting with the nun.
From reading my blog and all of its absurdities, you probably think that I have class with Colonel Nun about half of my classes or more, right? Guess again! She only teaches 4th grade English. I only have three 4th grade classes. So basically, she is only 1/6 of all of my classes, but 90% of all of the crazy I endure in Spain in general. General Nun.
Last week she was on a roll. In each of the classes I had with her, I had no voice (because I got sick and just completely lost it. Instead of letting me go home, on Thursday they made me yell over the students and by Friday I couldn't even squeak. That's right, mark your calendars...October 15, 2010, Chelsea could not talk at all.) Therefore, in the classes when I couldn't talk, I observed. Curiously. Here's what I noticed: Colonel Nun likes no nonsense. No erasers on the desk. No rulers. No fidgiting with glasses, school supplies, papers, books, or body parts. If you fidgit, and she catches you, you will be yelled at. Like this:
MY BABY!!! WHAT ARE JEW DOING?? WHAT EES DAT? POOT DAT OUT. YA!! POOT DAT OUT!! AWAY! AWAY! *insert yelling in Spanish where she compares student to a dumb animal* Jew know dat I love jew but jew are being eemposseeble!!
Great. So then the kids are scared shitless, but then the moment she turns around the get out their erasers again, or "rubbers" as they learn from British English (yeah awkward central) and their rulers and start stimulating baseball. If I was an 8 year old, I'd be terrified of the conservative nun and her incessant yelling. Hell, I'm 22 years old and I'm terrified of her.
She had another shining moment, though, later that day. Sometimes you get to a point and you learn how someone is crazy but you adapt. There is no adapting with Colonel Nun because she has a whole slew of new crazy she saves for rainy days. She was asking one of the girls in class a question (because the girl does not understand English hardly at all) and expected the rest of the class to sit quietly while she waited for the answer. It's quite overzealous, if you ask me, to expect the most rambunctious 4th grade class that has ever existed on Earth to sit quietly and patiently while one student cannot remember how to say "my name is ______." So it started.
MY BABY!! Look at me, my baby!! Look. What ees jour name? Tell me! What ees jour name? Jes, jew. JOUR NAME. My name ees Maria Jose. What is JOUR name?? JOUR name? Come on, baby, come on. Tell me.
Little impatient boy: pssst....your name is Natalia. Say "my name is Natalia."
SUT UP!! SEE EES SHY. SEE EES ONLY ESCARED BECUZ JEW ALL ESCARE HER, OKAY?? So tell me, baby, what ees jour name? [p.s. I'm pretty sure the other students are not the ones scaring her. Final answer.]
Little impatient boy: pssst....Natalia! Say "Natalia!"
JEW. SUT UP. AY SAID SUT UP!! Go out een da hall and theenk about what jour name ees, where jou come from and who are jour parents so jew are not confused about stealeeng de personality of dis leetle girl. GO. GO. My God, my God, we have got such a problem weeth double personalities here!!!!!
In case you didn't guess, the little girl never actually said her name, or anything at all. Maybe because she thought her "personality was stolen" by the other kid?? What the hell!?
In a different class, Colonel Nun was practicing clothes & vocabulary with the students. So she would go around quickly and fire off questions at random. This day, however, she developed that weird 's' thing like last time where everytime she would say an 's", she would instead say 'sh'. I'm not sure what brought it on, but I like to call this her "Sean Connery Syndrome"....or, well, "Sean Connery Shyndrome." Sho classh went like thish: "JEW, what ish jour favorite pet? JEW what ish jour favorite food?...
JEW, tell me baby, what ish jour favorite clothesh?
Boy: My favorite clothes is sart.
Bery good, bery good, jour favorite clothesh ish shart!
...........................why??????? WHY. Como se dice "shart is not an article of clothes" in Spanish? I don't even know how to say shart in Spanish to explain how it's inappropriate. Then again, I'd be talking to the Catholic institution that uses a doll named Poopie to teach culture and Spanish. That's right, all of my classes through 4th grade use this blue alien doll (he's cute) named Pupi (like pupil...except in Spanish you pronounce it "poo-peel") but Pupi for short. Imagine my surprise when, whilst playing an innocent game of "I Spy", I say "I spy something blue...what do you think it is Miguel?" POOPIE!!!! EES POOPIE!!! POOPIE EES BLUE!!!
....what?? So I just look at him horrified (awkwardly) and because I'm not agreeing with him, he just keeps shouting POOPIE!! POOPIE!! LOOK POOPIE EES BLUE!! Chelsea, look!! POOPIE! Luckily the teacher laughed and said "Pupi is the doll we use for our textbooks...I know it sounds odd in English...yes, Miguel, Pupi is blue. Stop shouting Pupi.
Sigh. So back to Sean Connery. While practicing food vocabulary and questions, the students started asking me about my favorites. So they ask me "Chelsea, what is your favorite food??" So I told them "well, I really miss Chinese food...there is this restaurant, called Panda Express...like panda bears? yes, panda...and they have amazing food that I miss here."
Ready for Colonel Nun's response? "Chinese food?? Jew like Chinese food?? Wang!! Where ees Wang?? Wang, jew hear? Chelsea....liiiikes....Chinese food....jess....just like where JEW are from. China. Can jew make Chinese food??
............it was awful on so many levels. I couldn't decide which was worse: the fact that she called out the Chinese kid for being Chinese, the fact that she assumed and asked him if he could make Chinese food, or the aftermath of the question where Wang did not understand so his face lit up because I was simply talking to him and he nodded his head vigorously without understanding what was going on at all. Sorry Wang :/ maybe sometime I'll cook you some of my eggrolls as a peace offering.
I can't remember if I've mentioned before, but Spain is really racist towards everybody. Especially the Africans and the Asians, though. Especially especially the Chinese. Chinese racism appears on TV on hugely popular shows and even in the basic language. I haven't had to deal with it in the classroom though (except for the Wang incident).
Wednesday, though, was a special day. Last Wednesday was impossible. First of all, during recess, 4 random boys walked up to me and asked "Chelsea, tienes novio??" (do you have a boyfriend?) ....why do you care? You haven't even hit puberty. Call me in 15 years. THEN I was talking to my 6th graders who adore me (it's cute, they write me letters in English...I'll post one sometime soon, it's hilarious) and they told me that this kid Alvaro has a crush on me. Except all they could say was "he...uh...he...he likes you. But you know, likes you. I like Joaquin, because he is very handsome. He looks like Justin Beiber." Quote, unquote. I died. About JB, not the kid who is 12 that has a crush on me. Although I will brag that the kid is super cute. Atleast he's not one of the weird ones. He's very smart and has adorable blue eyes. But, being 10 of course, he's not quite my type.
Anyways, after lunch, I go to Alvaro & the girls' English class. At first we were going over a flyer in the book that says "Competition: design a computer game that helps people and win a computer." I asked the class "what type of person would do this?" looking for the vocab word that was "computer programmer". Instead, Alvaro pulls his eyes back and says "someone Chinese!!".......................Christ. So I looked at him with my angry eyebrow and said "Alvaro...1. that's racist. 2. rude." Didn't matter..
The teacher in that class just wants me to speak with them in English so we were going over the words "always, never, I like, I'm good at"...etc. So I ask "what is something you always do?" Alvaro raises his hand (he always has to answer and he's always a smartass...we get along well...) and shouts "I always play tennis!!" (P.S. this is the kid who lied to me and told me that over our 4 day weekend he was travelling to the U.S. for a tennis camp...) I told him that was impossible and to think of something more specific so he wasn't lying. I love this class because I can usually be really sarcastic and witty and most of the time they pick up on it. So anyways we go on and I say "what is something you like?" Alvaro, of course, has to answer. "I like tennis!!" I said "no crap you like tennis, Alvaro, everyone knows that. Tell me something different." He says "I like (insert the name of some famous tennis player that I didn't know)" Who?? "uh, he is a famous tennis player" So I decided if he was going to be annoying I'd throw it back at him, so I say "oh, okay, so you like men?" and he goes excited "yes!! yes, I like men"
HAH. I died laughing and winked at him and said "ah, great Alvaro, you like men. Good", gave him the okay sign, and moved on. Approximately 3 seconds later he goes "CHELSEA CHELSEA, no!! eh, uh....I like men, yes, but no like men, no? How you say...uh....it's not what you think, see...". Haha. Gotcha, sucker!! He never did figure out how to say "I'm not gay" but, unfortunately for him, he didn't know that gay is gay in Spanish and English. Alvaro: 0. Chelsea: 1. Congratulations, Chels, you are smarter than a 6th grader, haha. This is what my world has come to.
I see it's been quite awhile since I've posted...so much has happened. So so much. I'm going to just start in and see how far I get, haha. Starting with the nun.
From reading my blog and all of its absurdities, you probably think that I have class with Colonel Nun about half of my classes or more, right? Guess again! She only teaches 4th grade English. I only have three 4th grade classes. So basically, she is only 1/6 of all of my classes, but 90% of all of the crazy I endure in Spain in general. General Nun.
Last week she was on a roll. In each of the classes I had with her, I had no voice (because I got sick and just completely lost it. Instead of letting me go home, on Thursday they made me yell over the students and by Friday I couldn't even squeak. That's right, mark your calendars...October 15, 2010, Chelsea could not talk at all.) Therefore, in the classes when I couldn't talk, I observed. Curiously. Here's what I noticed: Colonel Nun likes no nonsense. No erasers on the desk. No rulers. No fidgiting with glasses, school supplies, papers, books, or body parts. If you fidgit, and she catches you, you will be yelled at. Like this:
MY BABY!!! WHAT ARE JEW DOING?? WHAT EES DAT? POOT DAT OUT. YA!! POOT DAT OUT!! AWAY! AWAY! *insert yelling in Spanish where she compares student to a dumb animal* Jew know dat I love jew but jew are being eemposseeble!!
Great. So then the kids are scared shitless, but then the moment she turns around the get out their erasers again, or "rubbers" as they learn from British English (yeah awkward central) and their rulers and start stimulating baseball. If I was an 8 year old, I'd be terrified of the conservative nun and her incessant yelling. Hell, I'm 22 years old and I'm terrified of her.
She had another shining moment, though, later that day. Sometimes you get to a point and you learn how someone is crazy but you adapt. There is no adapting with Colonel Nun because she has a whole slew of new crazy she saves for rainy days. She was asking one of the girls in class a question (because the girl does not understand English hardly at all) and expected the rest of the class to sit quietly while she waited for the answer. It's quite overzealous, if you ask me, to expect the most rambunctious 4th grade class that has ever existed on Earth to sit quietly and patiently while one student cannot remember how to say "my name is ______." So it started.
MY BABY!! Look at me, my baby!! Look. What ees jour name? Tell me! What ees jour name? Jes, jew. JOUR NAME. My name ees Maria Jose. What is JOUR name?? JOUR name? Come on, baby, come on. Tell me.
Little impatient boy: pssst....your name is Natalia. Say "my name is Natalia."
SUT UP!! SEE EES SHY. SEE EES ONLY ESCARED BECUZ JEW ALL ESCARE HER, OKAY?? So tell me, baby, what ees jour name? [p.s. I'm pretty sure the other students are not the ones scaring her. Final answer.]
Little impatient boy: pssst....Natalia! Say "Natalia!"
JEW. SUT UP. AY SAID SUT UP!! Go out een da hall and theenk about what jour name ees, where jou come from and who are jour parents so jew are not confused about stealeeng de personality of dis leetle girl. GO. GO. My God, my God, we have got such a problem weeth double personalities here!!!!!
In case you didn't guess, the little girl never actually said her name, or anything at all. Maybe because she thought her "personality was stolen" by the other kid?? What the hell!?
In a different class, Colonel Nun was practicing clothes & vocabulary with the students. So she would go around quickly and fire off questions at random. This day, however, she developed that weird 's' thing like last time where everytime she would say an 's", she would instead say 'sh'. I'm not sure what brought it on, but I like to call this her "Sean Connery Syndrome"....or, well, "Sean Connery Shyndrome." Sho classh went like thish: "JEW, what ish jour favorite pet? JEW what ish jour favorite food?...
JEW, tell me baby, what ish jour favorite clothesh?
Boy: My favorite clothes is sart.
Bery good, bery good, jour favorite clothesh ish shart!
...........................why??????? WHY. Como se dice "shart is not an article of clothes" in Spanish? I don't even know how to say shart in Spanish to explain how it's inappropriate. Then again, I'd be talking to the Catholic institution that uses a doll named Poopie to teach culture and Spanish. That's right, all of my classes through 4th grade use this blue alien doll (he's cute) named Pupi (like pupil...except in Spanish you pronounce it "poo-peel") but Pupi for short. Imagine my surprise when, whilst playing an innocent game of "I Spy", I say "I spy something blue...what do you think it is Miguel?" POOPIE!!!! EES POOPIE!!! POOPIE EES BLUE!!!
....what?? So I just look at him horrified (awkwardly) and because I'm not agreeing with him, he just keeps shouting POOPIE!! POOPIE!! LOOK POOPIE EES BLUE!! Chelsea, look!! POOPIE! Luckily the teacher laughed and said "Pupi is the doll we use for our textbooks...I know it sounds odd in English...yes, Miguel, Pupi is blue. Stop shouting Pupi.
Sigh. So back to Sean Connery. While practicing food vocabulary and questions, the students started asking me about my favorites. So they ask me "Chelsea, what is your favorite food??" So I told them "well, I really miss Chinese food...there is this restaurant, called Panda Express...like panda bears? yes, panda...and they have amazing food that I miss here."
Ready for Colonel Nun's response? "Chinese food?? Jew like Chinese food?? Wang!! Where ees Wang?? Wang, jew hear? Chelsea....liiiikes....Chinese food....jess....just like where JEW are from. China. Can jew make Chinese food??
............it was awful on so many levels. I couldn't decide which was worse: the fact that she called out the Chinese kid for being Chinese, the fact that she assumed and asked him if he could make Chinese food, or the aftermath of the question where Wang did not understand so his face lit up because I was simply talking to him and he nodded his head vigorously without understanding what was going on at all. Sorry Wang :/ maybe sometime I'll cook you some of my eggrolls as a peace offering.
I can't remember if I've mentioned before, but Spain is really racist towards everybody. Especially the Africans and the Asians, though. Especially especially the Chinese. Chinese racism appears on TV on hugely popular shows and even in the basic language. I haven't had to deal with it in the classroom though (except for the Wang incident).
Wednesday, though, was a special day. Last Wednesday was impossible. First of all, during recess, 4 random boys walked up to me and asked "Chelsea, tienes novio??" (do you have a boyfriend?) ....why do you care? You haven't even hit puberty. Call me in 15 years. THEN I was talking to my 6th graders who adore me (it's cute, they write me letters in English...I'll post one sometime soon, it's hilarious) and they told me that this kid Alvaro has a crush on me. Except all they could say was "he...uh...he...he likes you. But you know, likes you. I like Joaquin, because he is very handsome. He looks like Justin Beiber." Quote, unquote. I died. About JB, not the kid who is 12 that has a crush on me. Although I will brag that the kid is super cute. Atleast he's not one of the weird ones. He's very smart and has adorable blue eyes. But, being 10 of course, he's not quite my type.
Anyways, after lunch, I go to Alvaro & the girls' English class. At first we were going over a flyer in the book that says "Competition: design a computer game that helps people and win a computer." I asked the class "what type of person would do this?" looking for the vocab word that was "computer programmer". Instead, Alvaro pulls his eyes back and says "someone Chinese!!".......................Christ. So I looked at him with my angry eyebrow and said "Alvaro...1. that's racist. 2. rude." Didn't matter..
The teacher in that class just wants me to speak with them in English so we were going over the words "always, never, I like, I'm good at"...etc. So I ask "what is something you always do?" Alvaro raises his hand (he always has to answer and he's always a smartass...we get along well...) and shouts "I always play tennis!!" (P.S. this is the kid who lied to me and told me that over our 4 day weekend he was travelling to the U.S. for a tennis camp...) I told him that was impossible and to think of something more specific so he wasn't lying. I love this class because I can usually be really sarcastic and witty and most of the time they pick up on it. So anyways we go on and I say "what is something you like?" Alvaro, of course, has to answer. "I like tennis!!" I said "no crap you like tennis, Alvaro, everyone knows that. Tell me something different." He says "I like (insert the name of some famous tennis player that I didn't know)" Who?? "uh, he is a famous tennis player" So I decided if he was going to be annoying I'd throw it back at him, so I say "oh, okay, so you like men?" and he goes excited "yes!! yes, I like men"
HAH. I died laughing and winked at him and said "ah, great Alvaro, you like men. Good", gave him the okay sign, and moved on. Approximately 3 seconds later he goes "CHELSEA CHELSEA, no!! eh, uh....I like men, yes, but no like men, no? How you say...uh....it's not what you think, see...". Haha. Gotcha, sucker!! He never did figure out how to say "I'm not gay" but, unfortunately for him, he didn't know that gay is gay in Spanish and English. Alvaro: 0. Chelsea: 1. Congratulations, Chels, you are smarter than a 6th grader, haha. This is what my world has come to.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Weekend of Misadventures
This Saturday I cooked dinner for 4 people and then the following Sunday made breakfast for 6 (kinda).
Look at me, I'm domestic!! :D
Thought the sheer epicness of this deserved its own blog post, all things considered. Plus it was the most productive thing I did all weekend.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Pop Quiz! What do you call someone who says "urinate" or "wee wee" instead of "going pee"?
Answer: hell if I know. Truthfully, there is no answer. It turns out that in teaching, there are a lot of questions without answers. I havve come to fear any question that begins with "How do you say...?" because of many, many awkward situations.
Example 1: Let's start with the blog title. In my class of 6th graders (this class knows the most English, which is great for me, but also a pain at the same time because they get cocky and ridiculous with it) we were reviewing the vocabulary for personal adjectives, such as kind, shy, bossy, confident, old, young, fat, thin, tall, short, etc. Then the kids wanted to know how to say "chulo". I don't even know what "chulo" means in Spanish. I've come to understand that "chulo" means cocky. THEN they wanted to know how to describe somebody that, "says 'urinate' instead of 'going pee' or 'taking a piss'..." ?? How is that a legit question?? I was completely confused. So I asked for them to elaborate. Here's their version of "elaborating": "You know, it's when a girl, instead of saying she has to pee, says "I have to wee wee" or "urinate".....you don't understand, Chelsea? Okay look. Urinate. (this is when they actually got out of their chairs to point to a conveniently located science poster) *points to bladder & urethra* see? Urinate. Like "pssssssssssssssssssssssss.....", jew know Chelsea?? How you say this?"
...WHAT?? Are you SERIOUS? (and seriously, were the SOUND EFFECTS necessary!?!)
So I asked them. "WHAT?? ARE YOU SERIOUS??" Turns out they genuinely wanted to know how to say that in Spanish. They weren't being total brats...the word in Spanish, apparently, is "fina". I think in English we would say "dainty" or ...well...I don't know. Somebody who is just very very well mannered? Regardless I don't understand why the group of 4 boys had to explain the adjective by continually referring to various idioms for urine but...I guess they're 6th grade boys.
Example #2: I teach private English lessons on Mondays and Wednesdays to a family that lives about 30 mins away. They live in a gated community (that has a pool and its own playground) that is super gorgeous and their apartment is incredible. Recently I found out that the dad, Miguel (funny right?) works for Coca Cola, which is why a.) they have their own personal nanny/housekeeper, b.) Coca Cola promotional gear is hidden all around the house, and c.) they always offer me a coke when I come over, haha. Anyways the kids are great and super sweet (one might think innocent)...but they're still normal kids so of course I'm bound to run into some situations. And I did, the third time I went over for tutoring. Miguel, their 11 year old son (funnier, right??) gets tutored for school in general for 45 minutes and then I tutor their two younger daughters Marina (7) and Julia (9) for 45 minutes together. Well, Marina is learning parts of the body at school but she only knows the basics like head, shoulders, knees, toes, eyes, mouth, nose. (if by now you've groaned, anticipating the awkward that is to come, good for you. Give yourself a pat on the back. Maybe YOU should be a teacher. I, on the other hand, walked right into this blindly like a deer in headlights). So we start practicing more in depth vocabulary. I started to make a list of words like wrist, ankle, cheeks, chin, forehead (tried to explain a five-head as a joke...didn't translate) eyelashes, eyelid, lips, tongue...(cringing yet? I still didn't see it)
Then I was blindsided. The 7 year old, Marina...little, innocent, kinda-cross eyed (but in a really cute way), missing her front teeth Marina asks out of nowhere (with a bit of a lisp) "an how you thay 'tetas??' "......??????? My eyes bulged out of my head. "How do you say tits?" Julia started giggling but still maintained her eye contact with me out of eagerness to know. I tried to recover and asked "um, isn't that a bad word??" And Julia told me matter-of-factly "well, no it's not a bad word. It's just...tetas. That's what they are". I am still trying to think of any 7 or 9 year old I know that would have the word "tits" just simply roll off their tongue. I'm inappropriate on many occassions and even I hate that word. I asked them "well...why didn't you say "pecho" then?" (that means "chest") Julia goes, "oooh.....well...I mean I guess you could. But tetas is still not a bad word." Fine fine, you win.
So I returned to our list of normal body parts when Julia interrupts and asks, "and this??" and points to her crotch. When did they turn from sweet little girls to such mischevious little brats? Plus, where do I even begin with that one? In English, you usually give little cutesy names for kids to use. So I asked Julia "well, tell me how to say it in Spanish and I'll tell you in English." She got all embarrassed and refused to say it....I was thinking 'well if you can't say it then you shouldn't expect me to tell you in English' but...I decided I would try to be "mature" and go ahead with it. So I told her to write it down if she wouldn't say it. So she starts writing "c...o...n..." when Marina (reminder: 7) yells "coño!!"
In English, that word starts with "c" and ends with "unt". It is, however, very typical to hear everywhere here. On TV, at school, everwhere. That, however, IS a bad word. Even here.
Julia immediately yells "NO!! Marina!! That is a bad word...I mean, that is one way to say it but that's not the word." Great. So Julia keeps writing "...c...h...i...t...a....there. Conchita" ??? Still confused I ask her "um, isn't that the name of a person?? Conchita?" Marina and Julia both burst out into fits of laughter and finally Julia tells me "oooooooh well I mean I have an Aunt Conchita, but it's not that kind of conchita" (Can you imagine being like "oh I have an Aunt Vagina, but it's not THAT kind of vagina"??? AHHH) So I tried to humor her when she tried to explain the origin of the word to me, which only made things worse. "Conchita...like...little concha, like the shell? They say that....IT....looks like a tiny shell."
I'm glad I got paid 25 euros for those 45 minutes of sheer, complete awkwardness. The last time I went over there I was like, "let's play Battleship, but in English". Much smoother.
So...to recap: Anytime I hear "How do you say...?" I pull out the "I don't speak Spanish" card. Because it's safer that way. Much safer.
The funny thing is that sometimes the kids don't ask enough questions. And they take the "no Spanish" rule a little too seriously.
Example: In class with the 1st graders one day, this little boy kept raising his hand and looked nervous. I kept calling on him. Alejandro? Yes? Do you have the answer? And he'd just sit there and stare at me. Then after waiting 30 seconds (30 agonizing seconds) he'd shake his head and look down. And as the questions went on, he got more and more anxious to answer the questions, waving his hand in the air screaming "yo yo yo yo yo!!!" (me me me me me!) and when I'd finally give in and say Alejandro, yes? he'd still just sit there and give me a blank stare. I tried to tell the class in general "it's good to raise your hands but if you don't know the answer, don't raise your hand" (I said it gently though...they're just 1st graders) this went on for 5 minutes and he kept raising his hand. Finally I stopped calling on him and blatantly ignored him. Finally he was squealing and squirming in his chair and disrupting the entire class, so I couldn't ignore him anymore. "Alejandro?? What??" (in Spanish, very quickly) "MAY I PLEASE GO TO THE BATHROOM??????" Isabel, the teacher, was like "yes, go go go..." then we ended up dying in a fit of laughter, realizing that whenever I called on him he didn't know how to ask to go to the bathroom in English, so he froze up and didn't know what to do. That kid FLEW out of the classroom. And by the time he came back we couldn't help but continue laughing again (at his expense) but he seemed to think he'd done something right so he looked proud. Congrats, kid, you made it to the toilet. Maybe someday you'll be the President of Spain!
Example 1: Let's start with the blog title. In my class of 6th graders (this class knows the most English, which is great for me, but also a pain at the same time because they get cocky and ridiculous with it) we were reviewing the vocabulary for personal adjectives, such as kind, shy, bossy, confident, old, young, fat, thin, tall, short, etc. Then the kids wanted to know how to say "chulo". I don't even know what "chulo" means in Spanish. I've come to understand that "chulo" means cocky. THEN they wanted to know how to describe somebody that, "says 'urinate' instead of 'going pee' or 'taking a piss'..." ?? How is that a legit question?? I was completely confused. So I asked for them to elaborate. Here's their version of "elaborating": "You know, it's when a girl, instead of saying she has to pee, says "I have to wee wee" or "urinate".....you don't understand, Chelsea? Okay look. Urinate. (this is when they actually got out of their chairs to point to a conveniently located science poster) *points to bladder & urethra* see? Urinate. Like "pssssssssssssssssssssssss.....", jew know Chelsea?? How you say this?"
...WHAT?? Are you SERIOUS? (and seriously, were the SOUND EFFECTS necessary!?!)
So I asked them. "WHAT?? ARE YOU SERIOUS??" Turns out they genuinely wanted to know how to say that in Spanish. They weren't being total brats...the word in Spanish, apparently, is "fina". I think in English we would say "dainty" or ...well...I don't know. Somebody who is just very very well mannered? Regardless I don't understand why the group of 4 boys had to explain the adjective by continually referring to various idioms for urine but...I guess they're 6th grade boys.
Example #2: I teach private English lessons on Mondays and Wednesdays to a family that lives about 30 mins away. They live in a gated community (that has a pool and its own playground) that is super gorgeous and their apartment is incredible. Recently I found out that the dad, Miguel (funny right?) works for Coca Cola, which is why a.) they have their own personal nanny/housekeeper, b.) Coca Cola promotional gear is hidden all around the house, and c.) they always offer me a coke when I come over, haha. Anyways the kids are great and super sweet (one might think innocent)...but they're still normal kids so of course I'm bound to run into some situations. And I did, the third time I went over for tutoring. Miguel, their 11 year old son (funnier, right??) gets tutored for school in general for 45 minutes and then I tutor their two younger daughters Marina (7) and Julia (9) for 45 minutes together. Well, Marina is learning parts of the body at school but she only knows the basics like head, shoulders, knees, toes, eyes, mouth, nose. (if by now you've groaned, anticipating the awkward that is to come, good for you. Give yourself a pat on the back. Maybe YOU should be a teacher. I, on the other hand, walked right into this blindly like a deer in headlights). So we start practicing more in depth vocabulary. I started to make a list of words like wrist, ankle, cheeks, chin, forehead (tried to explain a five-head as a joke...didn't translate) eyelashes, eyelid, lips, tongue...(cringing yet? I still didn't see it)
Then I was blindsided. The 7 year old, Marina...little, innocent, kinda-cross eyed (but in a really cute way), missing her front teeth Marina asks out of nowhere (with a bit of a lisp) "an how you thay 'tetas??' "......??????? My eyes bulged out of my head. "How do you say tits?" Julia started giggling but still maintained her eye contact with me out of eagerness to know. I tried to recover and asked "um, isn't that a bad word??" And Julia told me matter-of-factly "well, no it's not a bad word. It's just...tetas. That's what they are". I am still trying to think of any 7 or 9 year old I know that would have the word "tits" just simply roll off their tongue. I'm inappropriate on many occassions and even I hate that word. I asked them "well...why didn't you say "pecho" then?" (that means "chest") Julia goes, "oooh.....well...I mean I guess you could. But tetas is still not a bad word." Fine fine, you win.
So I returned to our list of normal body parts when Julia interrupts and asks, "and this??" and points to her crotch. When did they turn from sweet little girls to such mischevious little brats? Plus, where do I even begin with that one? In English, you usually give little cutesy names for kids to use. So I asked Julia "well, tell me how to say it in Spanish and I'll tell you in English." She got all embarrassed and refused to say it....I was thinking 'well if you can't say it then you shouldn't expect me to tell you in English' but...I decided I would try to be "mature" and go ahead with it. So I told her to write it down if she wouldn't say it. So she starts writing "c...o...n..." when Marina (reminder: 7) yells "coño!!"
In English, that word starts with "c" and ends with "unt". It is, however, very typical to hear everywhere here. On TV, at school, everwhere. That, however, IS a bad word. Even here.
Julia immediately yells "NO!! Marina!! That is a bad word...I mean, that is one way to say it but that's not the word." Great. So Julia keeps writing "...c...h...i...t...a....there. Conchita" ??? Still confused I ask her "um, isn't that the name of a person?? Conchita?" Marina and Julia both burst out into fits of laughter and finally Julia tells me "oooooooh well I mean I have an Aunt Conchita, but it's not that kind of conchita" (Can you imagine being like "oh I have an Aunt Vagina, but it's not THAT kind of vagina"??? AHHH) So I tried to humor her when she tried to explain the origin of the word to me, which only made things worse. "Conchita...like...little concha, like the shell? They say that....IT....looks like a tiny shell."
I'm glad I got paid 25 euros for those 45 minutes of sheer, complete awkwardness. The last time I went over there I was like, "let's play Battleship, but in English". Much smoother.
So...to recap: Anytime I hear "How do you say...?" I pull out the "I don't speak Spanish" card. Because it's safer that way. Much safer.
The funny thing is that sometimes the kids don't ask enough questions. And they take the "no Spanish" rule a little too seriously.
Example: In class with the 1st graders one day, this little boy kept raising his hand and looked nervous. I kept calling on him. Alejandro? Yes? Do you have the answer? And he'd just sit there and stare at me. Then after waiting 30 seconds (30 agonizing seconds) he'd shake his head and look down. And as the questions went on, he got more and more anxious to answer the questions, waving his hand in the air screaming "yo yo yo yo yo!!!" (me me me me me!) and when I'd finally give in and say Alejandro, yes? he'd still just sit there and give me a blank stare. I tried to tell the class in general "it's good to raise your hands but if you don't know the answer, don't raise your hand" (I said it gently though...they're just 1st graders) this went on for 5 minutes and he kept raising his hand. Finally I stopped calling on him and blatantly ignored him. Finally he was squealing and squirming in his chair and disrupting the entire class, so I couldn't ignore him anymore. "Alejandro?? What??" (in Spanish, very quickly) "MAY I PLEASE GO TO THE BATHROOM??????" Isabel, the teacher, was like "yes, go go go..." then we ended up dying in a fit of laughter, realizing that whenever I called on him he didn't know how to ask to go to the bathroom in English, so he froze up and didn't know what to do. That kid FLEW out of the classroom. And by the time he came back we couldn't help but continue laughing again (at his expense) but he seemed to think he'd done something right so he looked proud. Congrats, kid, you made it to the toilet. Maybe someday you'll be the President of Spain!
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Aranjuez was a complete failure.
Sigh. Clearly I have so much to catch up on. This has been my first official full week of October (which means the kids have class in the afternoons, so my days now go from 9:30 a.m. to 5 p.m.) and frankly I'm surprised I didn't die of exhaust. However, this weekend is a four-day weekend (what the Spaniards call a "puente", literally "bridge") and I plan on sleeping A LOT. I have already done so. Actually, this morning I got up at 12:30 p.m., made breakfast (vanilla Special K with berries...the best cereal ever!!) got dressed, and ventured out into the pouring rain to go grocery shopping. (Actually I went to Corte Ingles, a huge department store with a grocery store inside of it, bought a bottle of dressing, and then walked around the 6 floors for awhile because it always reminds me of Christmas :) Then I went to the cheap store Dia to get veggies & milk). Got home by 3, made lunch, watched my favorite TV show Fisica o Quimica, and then somehow ended up napping around 8. Then I made a not-so-balanced dinner of PB&J, snow peas, a pear, and popcorn. OH and water. Because last Thursday I went to IKEA (I'm in love) and bought ice trays that are shaped like little fish & starfish. It makes ice so much more fun (and so much easier. Our ice trays that we bought from the chinos don't work for shit. Literally, there are currently 15 ice cubes sitting in there currently that will not come out. I banged those damned things on the counter, floor, doorway, and window. Nothing.)
I guess, basically, my point is that I didn't do anything today, and I absolutely love it. Especially because it's pouring outside. "The rain in Spain falls slowly on the plain." FALSE. Whoever said that was completely disillusioned. The rain in Spain falls at awkward angles and when it rains it does not do so slowly. It monsoons. Regardless of my umbrella, I was soaked when I got to the store. Slowly on the plain...liars!
Hmm, well let's see. Where to begin. Last Saturday I adventured to Aranjuez, a town about 45 minutes outside of Madrid that's literally in the middle of nowhere. I was hoping to find fall, and beautiful fall-y trees, but instead Kyle & Billy fought like a married couple over the topic of Billy's hair (and whether he was truly a ginger or not) and we threw Advil at an awkward fountain when we ran out of spare change (not that the fountain was running, anyways, haha...) It was kind of a failure all around but I still had a lot of fun and can't wait to go back near the end of October (because the leaves hadn't really changed yet). That weekend I also figured out how to make Cherry Coke here! (THANKS TO THE HELP OF KYLE NELSON, BECAUSE HE TOLD ME TO USE GRENADINE WITH DIET COKE...THANKS AGAIN KYLE!!!! YOU'RE A GENIUS!!) Happy Kyle? :) heh.
Here are some pictures from Aranjuez:
Well...I feel like writing anymore would be boring, plus I'm currently being terrified by Disney right now, because I'm watching Are You Afraid of the Dark all by myself...and as if the show is generally not scary enough, this episode is about a clown of some sort. I'm only continuing to watch it in the spirit of Halloween, and because I cannot watch Saw here. Any of the 6 (soon to be 7!) Enjoy the photos and I'll update soon on my last week of chaos!
I guess, basically, my point is that I didn't do anything today, and I absolutely love it. Especially because it's pouring outside. "The rain in Spain falls slowly on the plain." FALSE. Whoever said that was completely disillusioned. The rain in Spain falls at awkward angles and when it rains it does not do so slowly. It monsoons. Regardless of my umbrella, I was soaked when I got to the store. Slowly on the plain...liars!
Hmm, well let's see. Where to begin. Last Saturday I adventured to Aranjuez, a town about 45 minutes outside of Madrid that's literally in the middle of nowhere. I was hoping to find fall, and beautiful fall-y trees, but instead Kyle & Billy fought like a married couple over the topic of Billy's hair (and whether he was truly a ginger or not) and we threw Advil at an awkward fountain when we ran out of spare change (not that the fountain was running, anyways, haha...) It was kind of a failure all around but I still had a lot of fun and can't wait to go back near the end of October (because the leaves hadn't really changed yet). That weekend I also figured out how to make Cherry Coke here! (THANKS TO THE HELP OF KYLE NELSON, BECAUSE HE TOLD ME TO USE GRENADINE WITH DIET COKE...THANKS AGAIN KYLE!!!! YOU'RE A GENIUS!!) Happy Kyle? :) heh.
Here are some pictures from Aranjuez:
Well...I feel like writing anymore would be boring, plus I'm currently being terrified by Disney right now, because I'm watching Are You Afraid of the Dark all by myself...and as if the show is generally not scary enough, this episode is about a clown of some sort. I'm only continuing to watch it in the spirit of Halloween, and because I cannot watch Saw here. Any of the 6 (soon to be 7!) Enjoy the photos and I'll update soon on my last week of chaos!
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Hooray for "Personal Days"!!
Yup, thank God the crap that's been making me sick hasn't stayed in the schools. Our prof for Teaching Methodology was sick today and cancelled class!! (Actually she just gave us a crap ton of reading for Thursday instead...thanks) I decided it was worthless to spend 2 hours travelling on the Metro (Jeri has made it quite clear that with the terrorist attacks in Europe I have no business dealing with the Metro...I should always stay above ground) for two hours of pointless, excruciating class. So yay personal day! I took a 3 hour nap and I might go grocery shopping in a bit...I'd say I've been productive :)
Well let's see. Last Wednesday was the General Strike (or Huelga General) in Spain. The government wants to raise the retirement age from 60 to 65, and I believe that Spain's unemployment rate is 19%. Therefore the Union workers are super pissed and organized a massive strike all throughout Spain. Success? No. None of the buses were running and the Metro was supposed to run at 20% but I heard that it was still very quick and ran almost normally. Apparently Spain had another strike back in June that was exponentially worse. I won't lie, the no-bus thing really sucked, but I was only 30 minutes late and the school was very forgiving, because they completely understood. I don't know the logistics of a strike, but I personally think that an underground strike would have been more successful. Spaniards are completely used to the strike thing so they had plenty of time to plan accordingly. If one day the buses and Metro just randomly didn't run, that'd de-rail the entire country. And THAT would be much more effective. There were a couple of bombings/car fires/what have you up north, but not too much excitement in Madrid, except for people who were armed with stickers & spray paint. Near my house at a bank somebody spray painted the outer wall with what I assume is a pig. I'll take a picture...the Strike proponents should work on their basic animal shapes haha. It kills me though because the buildings around here are all ancient so when bored antsy Union supporters get pissed off & decide to have a hay-day with spray paint, they're destroying the most gorgeous buildings. The buildings didn't up the retirement age....go spray paint the faces of the government workers instead.
(see, my thoughts like these are why I'm going into teaching. Or translating. Clearly legal matters aren't my forte)
Above you can see some pictures of the protesters the night before the General Strike. That night we had class out in BFE and afterwards was Fisica o Quimica, my favorite trashy Spanish TV show. I went to Ashley's apartment, which is right off of Sol, the heart of Madrid. Besides the fact that her apartment is badass, AND she has an oven (I have a "combination" microwave that is also a "grill"...and I use the term "grill" loosely because whenever I use the "grill" function the microwave actually elicits flames. Large flames. And as far as I know, no microwaves are supposed to deal with fire so...I've chosen to never use the flame function. Instead, I'll make/bake everything I need an oven for at Ashley's while having movie marathons (HALLOWEEN!!) or watching trashy TV). I was unaware, though, that the protesters would be practicing and getting pumped up in the plaza so...that was a very surprising addition to our TV night.
What else, what else. Well, for one I thought that my last two days of school would be easy because I didn't have class with Colonel Nun, therefore nothing TOO crazy could happen. That was dumb of me. On Monday I brought on the crazy myself. I was getting tired, and the students weren't paying attention...giving me the annoyed blank stare of death again. So I got a little cheeky with them and was like, "Seriously? Nobody knows? Alejandro, how old are you? *blank stare.* Alejandro...how OLD are you? *blank stare* Old. 1, 2, 3...? Alejandro? Roberto? Fernando? No? Okay then..." One of the kids tried to tell me in Spanish that his name was neither Roberto or Fernando. I tried to tell him it was a joke but he didn't get it. Clearly, they're 2nd graders. But then he was like "why?" I told him to ask Lady Gaga. Which then started a class discussion soley in Spanish about Lady Gaga and her songs that they know (well, in broken English). In hindsight I asked for that one. Then again how was I supposed to know they'd actually KNOW Lady Gaga?? They're like...7.
That wasn't the only time I slipped. I might have also been teaching colors to the same class and came across the color brown. I asked "what's an animal that is brown?" and one of the kids said beaver. (this isn't going where you think) Except in Spanish. I was like "yes! That's beaver. Can you say beaver? *no...* Beaver. Repeat, beaver. REPEAT. Beaver, like Justin Beiber. Yes?" Except I didn't exactly explain myself very well so now all thirty of my 2C class thinks that the cute teen star's name is Justin Beaver. He'll never find out, right?
But, besides those poor cultural references, I've been having a very awkward personal week with my kids. First of all, the kid 2 weeks ago who told me I was beautiful came up to my desk after class and did the same thing again. "Hello Chelsea!! Tee-chair, tee-chair, jew are bery be-yoo-teeful."...thanks, Jeremy, for being awkard again. Translation: "Aw, thank you Jeremy. Go stand in line!" But that wasn't the end of that. Later that day, I had 2C, the class of Lady Gaga and Justin Beaver. Afterwards I waited with them to walk down the stairs. One girl who refused to talk to me came up after class and kept trying to hold my hand (the students are VERY touchy here...which seems really weird to me but I've been trying to get used to it. I honestly think it's cute but I've been raised with that whole "don't touch teachers/students" thing so...it's hard to get past) But anyways I was like...what's the deal? Why wouldn't you talk AT ALL in class but now you want to hold my hand? I said "hello! how are you?" she turned to her friend, while still death-gripping my hand (well, 3 fingers) and whispered something in her ear. Her friend gave me a hug, then, and translated "Chelsea, jew are very boo-tee-ful, yes?" The mute friend was nodding her head enthusiastically. ......um....what the hell?? Have you been talking to Jeremy?? What'd he tell you?? That little brat. I don't know how to answer that, so I just said thank you. They kept staring up at me, smiling, studying me. I wanted to tell them "from your angle I'm guessing I'm not too flattering, eh?" but I assumed if they couldn't tell me their names, they wouldn't understand perspective and whatnot. Monday was an interesting day.
Then came today. Tuesday I have recess duty, and so does Juliet, my roommate, so we usually talk together in English and wait for one or two brave kids to come say hi. Two of her students came up and asked us in Spanish "tienes un tampon?" Since my oldest students are 13, it's not usually something that comes up. But I bought a cute case for my tampons before I left so I was like PERFECT occasion! So I start looking in my purse and getting one out but the girl looks completely confused. That's when she shows us a massive hole she ripped in her skirt and motions that she needs something to keep it together. Turns out the word tampon, in Spanish, means safety pin. Ooopsies. So Juliet went off with the girl to find a safety pin and I hung around my students because they know me and treat me like a celebrity, haha. So all of a sudden five different girls come running up to me....CHELSEA!!! CHELSEA!!! Hello!! Hello!! So I talk to them for a bit even though I only recognized 3. The other 2 I haven't even met yet because I won't have had their class until tomorrow for the first time. I think it's super cute though. One girl kept asking "Chelsea, how long are you here? Are you here forever?" Haha! Forever is a long time...I told her I didn't know yet. Then, after that, two more boys came up (from the class I haven't met yet) and started talking to me as well. One of them (that does not know me) looks at my hair, tries to touch it (but I'm too tall), and says "I like jour hair." Then one of the other girls says "jes jes!! Jew are bery be-yoo-teeful." JEREMY, THAT LITTLE SLUG. I'mma kill em. I laughed and said "well...thank you?" and one of the other girls was apalled that I didn't seem that sure. She said, "Jes jes, jew are!! And jour eyes. What colour are jour eyes?" I don't know? Brown? Hazel? Depends on what I'm wearing? "Um...I don't know?" "Well, dey are bery be-yoo-teeful. I like jour eyes!!" ...???
I guess I look very different from most Spaniards. I've yet to see one person that could pass as "naturally blonde"...but there are quite a few blue-eyed Spanish boys around here (that aren't dating my teachers). Juliet went on a date with one the other night & didn't like him so she's considering giving him my number, haha. He's 31 & bald, though, so I don't know if I really want to bark up that tree, haha.
Tomorrow is one of my long days...and when I say long day, I mean long long long day. I go at 9:30 and won't get home until 9:30 at night :/ Erg. I also have 2 classes tomorrow with Colonel Nun. I am just going to let things be and see how it goes....we're learning the subjects tomorrow so I'm interested in seeing how her recent Sean Connery accent with her s's will affect the student's comprehension and pronunciation. "Yesh, shtudents, Shpanish. English. Mooshic. Shi, shi, yesh." Bring it on, Sean!!
Well let's see. Last Wednesday was the General Strike (or Huelga General) in Spain. The government wants to raise the retirement age from 60 to 65, and I believe that Spain's unemployment rate is 19%. Therefore the Union workers are super pissed and organized a massive strike all throughout Spain. Success? No. None of the buses were running and the Metro was supposed to run at 20% but I heard that it was still very quick and ran almost normally. Apparently Spain had another strike back in June that was exponentially worse. I won't lie, the no-bus thing really sucked, but I was only 30 minutes late and the school was very forgiving, because they completely understood. I don't know the logistics of a strike, but I personally think that an underground strike would have been more successful. Spaniards are completely used to the strike thing so they had plenty of time to plan accordingly. If one day the buses and Metro just randomly didn't run, that'd de-rail the entire country. And THAT would be much more effective. There were a couple of bombings/car fires/what have you up north, but not too much excitement in Madrid, except for people who were armed with stickers & spray paint. Near my house at a bank somebody spray painted the outer wall with what I assume is a pig. I'll take a picture...the Strike proponents should work on their basic animal shapes haha. It kills me though because the buildings around here are all ancient so when bored antsy Union supporters get pissed off & decide to have a hay-day with spray paint, they're destroying the most gorgeous buildings. The buildings didn't up the retirement age....go spray paint the faces of the government workers instead.
(see, my thoughts like these are why I'm going into teaching. Or translating. Clearly legal matters aren't my forte)
Above you can see some pictures of the protesters the night before the General Strike. That night we had class out in BFE and afterwards was Fisica o Quimica, my favorite trashy Spanish TV show. I went to Ashley's apartment, which is right off of Sol, the heart of Madrid. Besides the fact that her apartment is badass, AND she has an oven (I have a "combination" microwave that is also a "grill"...and I use the term "grill" loosely because whenever I use the "grill" function the microwave actually elicits flames. Large flames. And as far as I know, no microwaves are supposed to deal with fire so...I've chosen to never use the flame function. Instead, I'll make/bake everything I need an oven for at Ashley's while having movie marathons (HALLOWEEN!!) or watching trashy TV). I was unaware, though, that the protesters would be practicing and getting pumped up in the plaza so...that was a very surprising addition to our TV night.
What else, what else. Well, for one I thought that my last two days of school would be easy because I didn't have class with Colonel Nun, therefore nothing TOO crazy could happen. That was dumb of me. On Monday I brought on the crazy myself. I was getting tired, and the students weren't paying attention...giving me the annoyed blank stare of death again. So I got a little cheeky with them and was like, "Seriously? Nobody knows? Alejandro, how old are you? *blank stare.* Alejandro...how OLD are you? *blank stare* Old. 1, 2, 3...? Alejandro? Roberto? Fernando? No? Okay then..." One of the kids tried to tell me in Spanish that his name was neither Roberto or Fernando. I tried to tell him it was a joke but he didn't get it. Clearly, they're 2nd graders. But then he was like "why?" I told him to ask Lady Gaga. Which then started a class discussion soley in Spanish about Lady Gaga and her songs that they know (well, in broken English). In hindsight I asked for that one. Then again how was I supposed to know they'd actually KNOW Lady Gaga?? They're like...7.
That wasn't the only time I slipped. I might have also been teaching colors to the same class and came across the color brown. I asked "what's an animal that is brown?" and one of the kids said beaver. (this isn't going where you think) Except in Spanish. I was like "yes! That's beaver. Can you say beaver? *no...* Beaver. Repeat, beaver. REPEAT. Beaver, like Justin Beiber. Yes?" Except I didn't exactly explain myself very well so now all thirty of my 2C class thinks that the cute teen star's name is Justin Beaver. He'll never find out, right?
But, besides those poor cultural references, I've been having a very awkward personal week with my kids. First of all, the kid 2 weeks ago who told me I was beautiful came up to my desk after class and did the same thing again. "Hello Chelsea!! Tee-chair, tee-chair, jew are bery be-yoo-teeful."...thanks, Jeremy, for being awkard again. Translation: "Aw, thank you Jeremy. Go stand in line!" But that wasn't the end of that. Later that day, I had 2C, the class of Lady Gaga and Justin Beaver. Afterwards I waited with them to walk down the stairs. One girl who refused to talk to me came up after class and kept trying to hold my hand (the students are VERY touchy here...which seems really weird to me but I've been trying to get used to it. I honestly think it's cute but I've been raised with that whole "don't touch teachers/students" thing so...it's hard to get past) But anyways I was like...what's the deal? Why wouldn't you talk AT ALL in class but now you want to hold my hand? I said "hello! how are you?" she turned to her friend, while still death-gripping my hand (well, 3 fingers) and whispered something in her ear. Her friend gave me a hug, then, and translated "Chelsea, jew are very boo-tee-ful, yes?" The mute friend was nodding her head enthusiastically. ......um....what the hell?? Have you been talking to Jeremy?? What'd he tell you?? That little brat. I don't know how to answer that, so I just said thank you. They kept staring up at me, smiling, studying me. I wanted to tell them "from your angle I'm guessing I'm not too flattering, eh?" but I assumed if they couldn't tell me their names, they wouldn't understand perspective and whatnot. Monday was an interesting day.
Then came today. Tuesday I have recess duty, and so does Juliet, my roommate, so we usually talk together in English and wait for one or two brave kids to come say hi. Two of her students came up and asked us in Spanish "tienes un tampon?" Since my oldest students are 13, it's not usually something that comes up. But I bought a cute case for my tampons before I left so I was like PERFECT occasion! So I start looking in my purse and getting one out but the girl looks completely confused. That's when she shows us a massive hole she ripped in her skirt and motions that she needs something to keep it together. Turns out the word tampon, in Spanish, means safety pin. Ooopsies. So Juliet went off with the girl to find a safety pin and I hung around my students because they know me and treat me like a celebrity, haha. So all of a sudden five different girls come running up to me....CHELSEA!!! CHELSEA!!! Hello!! Hello!! So I talk to them for a bit even though I only recognized 3. The other 2 I haven't even met yet because I won't have had their class until tomorrow for the first time. I think it's super cute though. One girl kept asking "Chelsea, how long are you here? Are you here forever?" Haha! Forever is a long time...I told her I didn't know yet. Then, after that, two more boys came up (from the class I haven't met yet) and started talking to me as well. One of them (that does not know me) looks at my hair, tries to touch it (but I'm too tall), and says "I like jour hair." Then one of the other girls says "jes jes!! Jew are bery be-yoo-teeful." JEREMY, THAT LITTLE SLUG. I'mma kill em. I laughed and said "well...thank you?" and one of the other girls was apalled that I didn't seem that sure. She said, "Jes jes, jew are!! And jour eyes. What colour are jour eyes?" I don't know? Brown? Hazel? Depends on what I'm wearing? "Um...I don't know?" "Well, dey are bery be-yoo-teeful. I like jour eyes!!" ...???
I guess I look very different from most Spaniards. I've yet to see one person that could pass as "naturally blonde"...but there are quite a few blue-eyed Spanish boys around here (that aren't dating my teachers). Juliet went on a date with one the other night & didn't like him so she's considering giving him my number, haha. He's 31 & bald, though, so I don't know if I really want to bark up that tree, haha.
Tomorrow is one of my long days...and when I say long day, I mean long long long day. I go at 9:30 and won't get home until 9:30 at night :/ Erg. I also have 2 classes tomorrow with Colonel Nun. I am just going to let things be and see how it goes....we're learning the subjects tomorrow so I'm interested in seeing how her recent Sean Connery accent with her s's will affect the student's comprehension and pronunciation. "Yesh, shtudents, Shpanish. English. Mooshic. Shi, shi, yesh." Bring it on, Sean!!
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