domingo, 12 de octubre de 2008
working with children
Working with preschool and kindergarten-age children is tiring. Working with preschool and kindergarten-age children while speaking another language is like being hit over the head with a very heavy solid object, something like a two-by-four or perhaps a frying pan. After a month, you would think I'd have the hang of it, but every day is like being on Lost...at first, I thought that metaphor was quite a stretch. Now, I think that the Spanish children are the Others, and I am a mixture of Jack, Kate, Sawyer, and Sayid, trying to outwit my enemies while simultaneously attempting escape, and piece by piece discovering what it is that I'm supposed to be doing. Really, it's not as dramatic as it sounds. I spend a lot of time playing in the sand, wiping noses, and sidestepping vomit all the while speaking English to children (and teachers) who have not the slightest clue as to what I'm saying. However, after hours of counting, singing, and coloring, I believe that everyone within a hundred yard radius of me now knows that green is verde, one is uno, and that if you're happy and are aware of this fact, the appropriate reaction would be to clap your hands, stomp your feet, or shout "Hooray!" While I do much of the talking, every once in a while, you get a real gem out of those kids. Ranking high on the "Kids Say the Darndest Things" scale is one small child named Beltrán. Although he almost daily makes me laugh, one of the first things he said to me, after bombarding me with questions like "¿Cómo te llamas?" and "¿Por qué hablas inglés?," was (translated): "I'm sorry, but I speak loudly because I'm Spanish." In my mind, a truer sentence has never been uttered in this land of cacophony. Spending all my life within the tri-state area, I am all-too-familiar with yelling as day to day speech. Another charming moment was when a different three year-old class thought my name was first name Hello, last name Good-Morning, probably because this was the only thing they really ever understand. Although this may seem slightly frustrating and cronically repetitive, don't worry too much, since as a perk, I do receive lots of hugs, and as it is starting to get a little colder, boogers are included.
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1 comentario:
Working with Abi,
El motivo atemporal de desear ser niño, el sueño fugaz de una voluntad frustrada de volver a jugar, de volver a correr, de disfrutar de una inocencia ya lejana, de retomar una etapa pasada, la fantasia universal de volver a un hogar apartado de la realidad. Volver a ser niño.
¡Cuanta ilusión! ¡Qué bendición! Poder despertar un dia y ser de nuevo aquel niño. ¡Cuánta emoción! Volver al colegio por ese camino, volver a encontrarme con mis amigos... Aquellos olores, todos sus nombres; el patio, tan lleno de colores...
¡Y volver a mi clase! ¡Si! Encontrarme mi pupitre verde, aquella pizarra tan llena, aquella cajita de ceras. ¿Y mis profesoras? Todas ellas... y ninguna como ahora pudiera yo desear.
¡Qué fortuna Abi poderte escuchar! Aprender, jugar, con mil historias soñar, crecer... Que afortunados tus niños, que infancia tan llena de espíritu, que recuerdos tan bonitos en su futuro tendrán cuando a sus soledades te traigan, cuando en sus temores recuerden tus enseñanzas, cuando de sus tristezas te tomen para aliviarlas, cuando por mal que les vaya recuerden lo tierno de sus infancias.
¿Cuánto valen esas canciones? ¿qué precio tiene el carácter que en ellos imprimes? ¿cómo valorar lo que un dia serán? Todo lo que con ellos haces marcará en buena manera sus vidas...
¡Qué maravillosa tarea!
Que bonito imaginar volver a ser niño y en tu patio jugar...
Sorry for everyone because i couldn´t explain it in english, when i was a child there wasnn´t someone like Abi in my school ;)
Jaime
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