As Far as the TEACHING Stuff Goes...

Want another teaching story?

(She waited. And heard nothing from the silent blog audience. She elected to proceed.)

The highlight this week occurred when I won over the Latino posse. Not sure if the boys named themselves that or if it came from another teacher, but there is a fantastic group of Spanish-speaking boys that are all buddies, and for the most part, are all doing terribly in Language Arts. These boys are some of my favorites; a couple of them are downright adorable, but: they don't turn their work in. What else is new.

Last weekend, I received in the mail a new picture of a little girl I sponsor in Nicaragua, through an organization called Plan USA. I immediately felt guilty when I saw her picture, because I'm a rotten pen-pal and never say hello to this cutie. I was bemoaning this fact to Beau (this was his spontaneous flight from CA to WA weekend :), and he said, "Well, write her a letter. Write her one before you send anything to me."
Then I got a GREAT idea. "I should have some of my Spanish-speaking kids help me write her a letter!"

And thus was conceived the brillianto fabuloso plan to win over my floundering Latino posse.

I targeted Andre first, because he's failing the worst, and he's also projected the toughest exterior. I've had my eye on him and his girl friend (as opposed to girlfriend- they're just pals who sit together and mutter things about the class) for a while now, because they both just have up walls-- I haven't been able to connect with either of them yet. And I'm normally really good at working out connections with people-- I, ahem, shoulder brush, supposedly have the gift of "WOO," which for the Strength-Finders-Test-uninformed, is an acronym for "Winning Others Over." I think I've realized that WOO is going to be my best chance at classroom management later on this year. (She rubbed her hands together and cackled conspiratorially.) I'll make them all love me so that they rally to my requests for attention. It's been going well actually-- I have lots of kids on my "team" now, and I've connected with a lot of them on life-related stuff. But not yet Andre. I'd tried a couple times with little luck; the armor hadn't come down yet.

My other target was Eduardo. Eduardo is affable and sweet-tempered; he's also an incredible poet. He's taller and big boned, and I think he gets a hard time for not looking "Hispanic enough"-- he's Honduran and has light skin and reddish hair. He's also another one that just never gets his work in though, so his grade could definitely use a boost.

After 3rd period ended, I gave it a shot. "Andre. I'm wondering if you'd help me with something. I sponsor this little girl in Nicaragua through a kind of charity program, and I wanted to write her a letter, but I wanted to try to write it in Spanish. But I don't speak Spanish. Do you think you could help me write her something? I was going to talk to you and Eduardo both."
His eyebrows jumped up half a centimenter. "Sure. I could do that. Like a letter in Spanish? I could do that."
"I could talk to Viola and see if we could give you extra credit."
"I would love to help you with that." He nodded with those slightly raised eyebrows, and before I could make my way over to Eduardo through the current of departing students, Andre had already made a beeline to him, and told Eduardo about the idea.
"Hey Greta! We're going to help you write a letter?"
"Yeah! If you don't mind. I can see if I can get you extra credit."
Eduardo scoffed and grinned. "We'd help you anyway!"

Viola loved the idea, and approved the extra credit. Andre couldn't stay after school, so we had a one-on-one work session during 6th period, when I would normally be in Swing Class. We worked for a little while on the letter, and he made adorably tentative translations to my suggested phrases. In the letter, we told Ligia, my little Nicaraguan girl, that the boys were helping me write to her. "If I was writing the letter myself, " I told Andre, "I would start saying good things about you and Eduardo, but I don't want to embarrass you..."
"What? Like what?"
"Like that I really enjoy having you two in class."
"What?? No you don't..."
"Yes I do! I really like seeing you in class every day. Sometimes I get annoyed with you and Sarah for talking all the time--"
"We don't talk ALL the time."
"True, you guys have gotten a lot better. But no, Andre, I really like having you in class. You're a good kid."

He told me he thought Language Arts was boring. I asked him why, and he told me about some of the other classes that he liked better. I'm genuinely interested when kids tell me why they do or don't like classes, because, hey: this is relevant. I think he liked that I was really listening to him, and he opened up more. I found out that the reason he never turns anything in is because he works for his family's restaurant as soon as he gets home from school; he literally doesn't have any time to do his homework. I wonder if this is partly because, when his parents have given him time, he hasn't used it. But regardless, this was a problem.
"Dang Andre. We've got to figure out a way for you to do your homework. Don't you have an older sister? What did she do?"
"Yeah, she's like a success story. She has her own business now... She's doing good for herself. Not like my brother, he's-- man. I don't wanna talk about him."
"We won't talk about him. So how'd your sister get through school?"
"Well... she was into sports, so she had to keep her grades up."
"So she just made it happen?"
He shrugged. "My parents... You know, they need the help though."
I asked him what his afternoons looked like after school.
"I have to take the bus home..."
"And how long is your bus ride?"
He shrugged. "Maybe... an hour?"
"Okay-- so that's a hour of potential reading time, right? Do you think you could get any reading done while you ride?"
Another shrug. "Maybe."
"That would be awesome if you could. And then think of how good you'd feel on Friday, when we're talking about the reading. You'd know all the answers. You'd be like, 'Bam, know that one.' 'Bam.' That'd be good, right?"
He grinned and raised his eyebrows half a centimeter, thinking about it. "Yeah."
I wrote a note to his mom on his study questions: "Dear Mrs. A: Please sign off when Andre finishes questions 1-5. Thank you!" I told Andre, "Okay: hopefully this will help your folks know you need a little time to get your work done. But you're going to need to actually do it. I'm going to look for your mom's signature now." He raised his eyebrows that tiny bit, and let one corner of his mouth creep up, and nodded. The bell rang, and he took off to catch his bus.

We had been downright chatty. I felt like I was wearing anti-gravity boots. I had just had a heart to heart with Andre.

I looked down the hall and saw the posse rolling in, led by Mr. Eduardo. "Hey dude! Andre was just helping me! Wait-- are all you guys here to help?"
They-- Jose 1, Jose 2, Jose 2's twin Miguel, George, Juan AND Eduardo-- sat down around the little green table. "Yeah!"

And we just had a little letter writing fiesta.

And we all got to know each other! In the process of updating my little Nicaraguan chica, the boys learned that I lived with my Grandpa, and had to balance a full load of grad school classes on top of my student teaching.
"So you don't have much time for yourself?" Translated, translated, translated into Spanish.
"No, not really. But, tell her I really like what I'm doing."
They spoke to each other, throwing out suggested phrases. (In Spanish): "'I like what I'm doing.'"
"No, put, 'I love what I'm doing.'" They checked with me. "You love what you're doing? With the teaching?"
I grinned, "Yeah, I love it. That's good. Put that."

At times they ribbed each other in Spanish. "Hey now," I said. "Just because I can't understand you doesn't mean you can say inappropriate things."
Eduardo gave a half-hearted grin. "That's just how we talk to each other though..."

At times I tried reading aloud what they'd written, clunking my way through it. One of the boys would gently correct me on pronunciation, and another would rebuke him. "She's doing good, it's hard for her."

I heard them tease each other about girls, and about Eduardo getting challenged to fight all the time by Mexican guys who live in his same neighborhood, and they talked about life and school and asked me questions about Ligia.

When they were finishing up, they speculated about how to close it off. "Normally," George said, "In Spanish culture, you say something about God..." They looked at me carefully to see how I would respond to that.
I threw out one of the only Spanish phrases I know, one that has somehow managed to be retained since a high-school mission trip to Mexico. "Que dios te bendiga?" I suggested.
They grinned. "God bless you? Yeah, that's good!"
Separation of church and state is no joke in the public school system, but if the students bring it up, God can move right on in to the conversation. Can I tell you how happy I am that "Que Dios te Bendiga" is one of the only Spanish phrases I know??

When we finished, we had a great, personal letter to send to Ligia. We had seven grades move up from failing to passing. We had a fun time doing something that was socially-justice-minded AND connected with the boys' culture.

And I now have the loyalty and affection of one fabulous Latino posse.