la rentrée

While the word is French, not Spanish, everybody's gotta go back to work sometimes, even in Europe. The wonderful time of rest and relaxation has come to end for all, adults and kids alike. School is starting, and I'm heading back to school...to teach. Enter Zen metaphors about young grasshoppers, coming full circle, etc. With little to no training and qualifications that include baby-sitting and volunteer tutoring, the Spanish government and public education system has cleared me to be around children. Shocking. I will be assistant teaching at the preschool level for children age 3-5, which means...songs! games! dancing! unbridled excitement for all things American! Irresistible enthusiasm for life! This could take some getting used to, since the last three years of living in New York and attending NYU were spent in a haze of sarcastic apathy with random bursts of cynicism. Drinking crappy American and musing about poststructualism have really not prepared me to teach English to 3 year-olds. However, with my nurturing nature and saint-like patience, I'm sure I'll be a natural...Well, I can probably guarantee that I will not throw any of the children within the first week. Live like you teach, starting with violence is never the answer, unless you really need oil and a distraction from the mess you've created domestically. Or if God declares that it's your manifest destiny to rule a country that stretches from sea to shining sea, meaning that everyone else, mostly the indigenous people that have rightful claims to the land, better get out of the way. USA! Er...amarillo is...that's right, yellow!