Thanks

"Teacher, have you been assaulted?" Jorge asked me quietly, as we walked down one of the dark streets, away from the school. I really hate their word choice. "Not....yet..." I answered slowly, trying to find a way to answer that wouldn't constitute jinxing myself. Why can't they just say 'robbed'? Is it because most of the muggings my students describe generally end with being punched in the face, whether you have money or not?

"Have you?" I asked Jorge and Jesus, a sweet, quiet boy who has taken to walking home with me until our paths diverge about ten minutes from my house. "Yeah. They pulled knives on me. I didn't have any money, but they still punched me in the face" Jorge answered. Jesus remained quiet. I like walking home with my students. I admit I feel a little more secure. I detect an air of chivalry from them, as they walk the lone, foreign female home. And as an adult, as their teacher, I feel protective of them. As I watched Jorge and Jesus walk down the dark road where our paths diverge, carefully carrying their assigned dolls, I wondered who really protects who.

Thanksgiving crept up pretty quickly. The Wednesday before, I woke up with a full blown cold. It was chilly inside the house, but outside, the hot Santa Anas were blowing trash everywhere. It didn't feel like November. I had to go to work. I was being evaluated that day. I got ready and stepped out into the hot street and over a pair of clean, children's underwear that had obviously been ripped from some one's clothes' line by the wind.

I hate being observed. I knew when my observer was coming, during a class with a group that has become increasingly antagonistic towards me. Chronically absent, unwilling to work in class, yet angry when they don't receive passing grades. Excellent, watch me teach! I was shocked when we had one of the best classes we had had in weeks. Those kids put on a real dog and pony show for my observer, hands raised, dozens of volunteers vying to answer questions, students successfully solving problems I never thought they would be able to complete. I have to admit, I really owe them one.

"Teacher, have you been assaulted?" I was asked for the third time within one day. They know I walk to and from school and their questions were making me increasingly nervous. "You shouldn't use your MP3 player on the way to school, there's a lot of rateros out there" one advised me. I have stopped. No more ipod walks, one of the highlights of my day.

Alec woke me up Thanksgiving morning. "The water heater caught on fire. I went downstairs and I all could see was orange. I went out back and there were flames, I put it out". My cold was worse than ever. I struggled through my long, seven class day. Students kept asking me if I was angry. "No," I stressed "just sick". A teacher visited me in the middle of one of my classes, to ask if a couple of students could turn in a small assignment next week that was due a week ago, because he had taken them to a one day, science fair. "No" I answered, "that work should have been done a long time ago". I don't have a lot of patience with this guy. In order to impress the students with his knowledge of English, he gave a group of my students the answers for their last test. "But, but, but..." he argued. Finally, I said yes. "When should they hand it in?" he asked me happily. "How about January?" I answered, "Or June if they they don't have enough time".

I finally got to go home. One of my many, chivalrous students named 'Jesus' saw me struggling with the gate outside of our privada. "I'll wait with you" he said "so that you don't get assaulted". Alec came to the gate to let me in. The fire had left us not only without hot water, but we couldn't use our stove. We ended Thanksgiving with a delivery pizza.

I guess I like pizza no matter what day of the year it is.