…meanwhile, in reality, I slowly move the plastic bowl and signal with my eyes and hands as kindly as possible, smiling to gain approval. The Tia (“Aunt” = Caretaker/Nanny) says, “Si, quieres lavar los platos?”
…to which I respond with the two words I feel most confident saying…
“Si! Gracias.”
“Sorry I’m taking up space in the sink while you peel and wash your potatoes. You may end up with chocolate potatoes!” I think as I wash the chocolate covered bowl.
I smile broadly, invasively, attempting to communicate gratitude. She smiles back. After the dish is cleaned, I walk towards a child passing his empty bowl between his hands and hitting it on the table.
“Hey, are you finished? Can I have your bowl?”
I stand and hold out my hand, silent.
Estas terminada…. Terminanda… terminando…termine?
I stand there some more, hoping he will see me and recognize the signal. Eventually, I walk away and continue to observe my friend dominate her cooking class, raise her voice, her hands, gesture verbs, sing occasionally, elaborately communicate surprise, laughter, excitement, praise and commands. Only dynamite could possibly challenge her energy.
I smile. I laugh. I nod my head. I take the dishes.
“Puedes…. Lavar…. Mmm,” I say as I point to the plastic bowls. “Como se dice?”
“Los platos! Lavar los platos. Si, si!” the friendly Tia exclaims, moving over.
“Ah, lavo los platos. Si. Gracias.” I respond, the deflated companion of dynamite.
This began the game of point and translate.
“Como se dice?” I said, pointing to a pot….
…the stove
…the oven
....the gas
…the small spoon
…the large spoon
This game is still in progress, and although I feel like a loser, I consider myself a learner. In fact, Jen suggested I work with the special needs kids, since the Spanish is slow with them….
…so she says…
But it is slow, as is their development. I spent four hours with four of them today: Rosa, Jose Luiz, Tatiana and Lessith. Tatiana wears a bib to catch the saliva continuously dripping from her lips; Jose Luiz wears elbow pads, knee pads and baby blue glasses; Rosa has bruises and a few small cuts on her arms and face, products of her powerful defiance; Lisseth screams or yells when we least expect it. When I walked in Tatiana immediately hobbled over, falling towards me, arms outstretched, while Rosa ran out the door. I spent 20 minutes trying to get Jose to grab the soft colorful ball and 30 minutes watching Tatiana eat some raison bread terrified that she would choke and I would not know how to save her.
What if these kids are like me. What if they know what is going on, but can’t express or change their behavior… similar to my malfunctioning Spanish. They’re fascinating to watch because they’re entirely unpredictable. Rosa’s mood may change suddenly and she’ll throw the bowl of popcorn kernals over, or Jose Luiz will suddenly turn on that big bright smile, or Tatiana may decide to give Jose a hug when he begins to cry.
I sang a song in broken Spanish to Jose Luiz while I pushed him in a swing. He can't speak so he just smiled and laughed. I understood perfectly.
This began the game of point and translate.
“Como se dice?” I said, pointing to a pot….
…the stove
…the oven
....the gas
…the small spoon
…the large spoon
This game is still in progress, and although I feel like a loser, I consider myself a learner. In fact, Jen suggested I work with the special needs kids, since the Spanish is slow with them….
…so she says…
But it is slow, as is their development. I spent four hours with four of them today: Rosa, Jose Luiz, Tatiana and Lessith. Tatiana wears a bib to catch the saliva continuously dripping from her lips; Jose Luiz wears elbow pads, knee pads and baby blue glasses; Rosa has bruises and a few small cuts on her arms and face, products of her powerful defiance; Lisseth screams or yells when we least expect it. When I walked in Tatiana immediately hobbled over, falling towards me, arms outstretched, while Rosa ran out the door. I spent 20 minutes trying to get Jose to grab the soft colorful ball and 30 minutes watching Tatiana eat some raison bread terrified that she would choke and I would not know how to save her.
What if these kids are like me. What if they know what is going on, but can’t express or change their behavior… similar to my malfunctioning Spanish. They’re fascinating to watch because they’re entirely unpredictable. Rosa’s mood may change suddenly and she’ll throw the bowl of popcorn kernals over, or Jose Luiz will suddenly turn on that big bright smile, or Tatiana may decide to give Jose a hug when he begins to cry.
I sang a song in broken Spanish to Jose Luiz while I pushed him in a swing. He can't speak so he just smiled and laughed. I understood perfectly.
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