I picked my own corn today during a free period. It was a great field trip.
The father of one of my students was taking orders for manos (groups of five) of corn yesterday, and I took the opportunity to invite myself along to check out the operation. I wasn’t allowed to go in the corn field, though, because I was wearing a skirt and flip-flops.
Instead I got to be privy to an extremely amusing defense of a healthy diet on the part of another school father, who works with the owners of the field (who happen to also own pretty much all the land surrounding the school). This father has lost thirty pounds after some kind of cholesterol scare-speech from a doctor. He had lots of tips about not eating margarine, eating plenty of fresh vegetables and being careful about carb consumption (not eating spaghetti, rice and tortillas in the same meal, for example—a meal I have actually been served at school, on occasion with a platano substituting for the rice.) Even more humorous was the bemused look on the face of the landowner’s son, who’s my age. He became even more bemused when the diet maven declared that he had even (gasp!) given up beer.
At any rate, I was not deterred by lack of proper clothing, and vowed to wear legitimate footwear and jeans the next day, despite possible temperatures in the high eighties—“winter” in
Here’s the technique: Grab the stalk right under the elote and pull down quickly on it to break it off the stem. It’s fun, at least when done in small spurts. I made off more than a mano, seven elotes (which the corn-agent turned ayudante kindly carried for me). Maybe I got a break for picking my own. I offered my assistance if they ever need a hand in the future. Somehow I don't think they'll take me up on it.
Class Notes
Today I more or less successfully implemented a rotation of English stations for pair-work. I’m always scared for some reason to do stuff like this, I guess because I know they don’t get along with each other and struggle to stay on task when unsupervised. But these were straightforward tasks and most groups held it together. The favorite station was definitely the study of concrete poems....I could see the lightbulb going on when they were figuring out on their own what a concrete poem was, and most jumped at the chance to try their own. Two students were really insightful about a poem about a football player that has the words dashing back and forth along yard lines on the page. One ninth grade student wrote about love again, and the specificity of her sentiments makes me think she has someone in particular in mind. Seeing her in that happy little haze made me think today of my favorite poem from early high school—a poem from the Nuyorican Poet’s Cafe anthology called “The stupid jerk I’m obsessed with.” (It’s about the agonizing joys of fixation on a guy.)
I also did some more drilling with main idea—one of my goals of the bimester is to provide the students with helpful lessons in how to do research without plagiarizing—and then as a reward let the seventh and eighth graders do some self-portraits with my camera. They had grown increasingly jealous of the ninth grader’s self-portraits, which were taken before break (and developed in the States) and are now on display in the room in the frames they made themselves. My favorite is the frame shaped like a red high-heeled shoe. The others are more abstract (except for the star for the figurative “rock star”) but equally endearing. They all also wrote small poems about themselves and an explanation of what the picture does and does not reveal about them, now posted up near the photos.
Our paper mache globes are on hold because some people still have not brought in paint...I made that a requirement and alas I’m more or less stuck with it. Fingers crossed that the three paint-less students come through for tomorrow. We’re having a parents meeting tomorrow to discuss the possibility of contributions to defray the cost of materials for a Junior Achievement personal finance class for the middle schoolers. I hope there’s enthusiasm. I’m taking the lead on this, so I’m pretty invested in it....I really do believe it would be great for the kids to get that kind of practical knowledge.
I feel like I’m connecting more with students in the other grades, which makes me happy since so often, since the middle school is a building separate from the elementary hall, I feel a bit left out. I’m trying to remember the advice from Heat to be invisible and make yourself useful because it eventually pays dividends. In my case, I’m just looking to be more connected to the younger students. I helped out with a P.E. class today, and yesterday I spent a little time with a first grader struggling with some addition and subtraction problems.
Other events of today
Surely there have been interesting things that have happened since I last wrote, but today is most prominent on my mind, alas. And surely it’s in some way representative, at least of the good days! So here's what I did after school.... I walked home in the heat, cutting through some property (with permission) and waving to what I call the “garage door opener family.” They live in a house at the end of a long driveway, for free or at low rent, but always must be home to open the gate for cars entering or exiting. I always wish them “Buenas.”
I bought myself a mora slushy for 10 lemps (~50 cents) that was so-so and interrogated the teenager who sold it to me about whether there is a schedule for when they serve coffee slushies. (Not exactly.) I saw a police truck stop at a house down the small street around the corner from the house and a bunch of police who were riding in the back climb out, machine guns in hand, to grab some guy. That was a bit out of the ordinary. As I walked by the Aguas de San Pedro office, I noticed the water company's slogan today for the first time and chuckled: “Mejor cada dia.” Possibly someday even improved enough to drink. After chilling in the house and eating some Honduran cheese as a snack—queso fresco—I went running on the boulevard, getting a good deal of dirt in my eyes in the process and at one point even feeling the grit crunch between my teeth. One guy said, “la quemó!” (I was ahead of the friend who came with me.) I didn’t know that expression existed in Spanish. Evidently.
Then stopped by the grocery store and vegetable market with my friend just as they were closing up, since everything more or less closes when the sun sets. The woman at vegetable stand folks was super-nice and asked us about where we run and even offering her own experiences of running around town (that’s a rare thing, particularly for a woman). Quick walk home for a cold shower, some pizza that my awesome housemates made and kindly let me partake of, and some computer work before bed.
And so here I am, with kids in the street yelling “Que golazo!” since their schools are out of session so they get to play and play and play. Since I came back from break, I’ve noticed a lot more the casual friendliness and chattiness of people we encounter daily. I suppose I’m seeing the contrast with my life in
