The Kids Are Alright

Some kids really can't sing. Most do alright with the little Spanish songs we sing in class, but there is usually one extremely nonrhythmic kid in almost every group. "BUENOS DIAS, BUENOS DIAS!" they thunder, completely off of the CD and louder than any other member of the class.

I give them extra points for that.

Let's just say things are not really going well on the job. I've decided to go Israel on them in the remaining eight months that I will work there. I can't win no matter what I do, so I'll just do whatever the hell I want. It worked in TJ.

I miss seeing signs that point to Los Angeles when I drive on the highway.

I don't know why the fire drill alarm startled me so much. I've done a million of those things. The Kindergarten teacher I was speaking to about my apparent ineptitude looked really stunned when I screamed in her face.

I was invited to Boston by Fulbright to help out with this year's teachers from Mexico. They always seem to come through right at the right time, when I feel the most maligned. "Well you may not approve of me, gross public school administrator, but the FULBRIGHT folks do!". I'm flattered and looking forward to it. I never thought I'd see them again.

"Maestra," the only serious Kindergartner of the sixty-whatever I teach stated "a bird pooped in our classroom today". He stared at me gravely when I burst out laughing and glanced out of the door, only to see my seventies-style bang wearing Dragon student walking by. He stopped, waived nicely, then hissed loudly and ran outside.

I guess it's all in a pinche day's work.