ESL Class and the Tick

August 19, 2007 - Sunday                  

Category: Life

After being quite comfortable in my role of baby-sitter/extra-helper at the weekly ESL class my friends and I have been doing in Chattanooga this summer, circumstances demanded I step out of my comfort zone into the fuzzy realm of actual teaching this time. I was a bit intimidated because, even after three years of high school Spanish, and four or five sessions of Rosetta Stone (I really need to get back to that)--I am basically only confident with the phrase, "No hablo español." (And even that one is a little shaky.)

Thankfully, I was given the more advanced students--only two of them--who can speak some English. I wasn't quite sure what to do, but we finally got into practicing some food vocabulary, then I would write questions in English and they would have to answer in English. The great thing was, after I had them say it in English, they would make me say the question and answer in Spanish! So I guess I got to be an ESL student too (Español as a second language).

Probably the most unique part of my "lesson plan" was very unexpected, but nevertheless, became an educational moment. I had been going over something with the two guys, and had felt something crawling on my neck. I reached back and pulled it off, and it was a tick! I had been walking in the woods all afternoon, and apparently picked up the disgusting hitch-hiker. I was pretty grossed out, but kept on doing whatever I was doing and threw it on the floor, hoping it would just go away...But no. A few minutes later, one of the guys noticed a bug crawling across the table. "What do you call this?" he said, as he corralled it onto a piece of paper for better observation. "That is called a tick." He wrote the word on the paper as I explained where I had picked it up. They seemed to be familiar with their blood-sucking habits, but had not yet learned the name for this pest. After that special lesson in biology, the student happily killed it for me. :)

It was interesting hearing their stories of coming to America from Guatemala and Mexico. Neither of them have ever been able to go back and visit, though they both would like to someday. So here they live, in Chattanooga, learning English, I guess making more money than they would down there, but with no family. It reminded me of the Burmese refugees I met in New Zealand who had incredible stories of escaping their country--yet having to leave behind even their children sometimes, praying for a way to be reunited someday. What a different world than the one I live in. And yet the only difference is the choice I make whether or not to enter in that other world and learn and help, or to just live secluded in my own safe little world. Better get back to that Rosetta Stone then..:)

10:43 PM 1 Comments