I’m pretty sure that nobody understands the words that are comin’ outta my mouth these days. Or at least it seems that way. As much as I try to e-nun-ci-ate and speak sloooooooooooooowly, dang it, these kids aren’t getting it. And the temptation to switch back to Spanish is oh so strong, so very readily available. What’s more, they understand Spanish, respond to me, answer my questions, interact. It’s amazing.
I never thought I’d find speaking Spanish to be easier in any situation. I mean, I spend pretty much 60% of my day fumbling over words, remembering to OPEN my mouth more, and trying to make my vowels clear and short. Oh, and there’s the part where I’ve no idea how to say handle and I need to tell someone to just tug on it, and wait, how do you say tug again? Gosh darn it, Spanish. Fooled me again.
Well, kids, it’s happened. I’ve found a situation in which speaking Spanish is easier and to my enormous advantage. So sad that my job is teaching English and refusing to speak Spanish. (Which, by the way, does not happen in a room full of overexcited monolingual 12 year-olds. Period.)
Gosh darn it all.