Hello, Lamp Post!

Some days.

Some days my mood just soars.  I’m not sure why anymore than I understand why on some days I find myself in the dumps.

Today was one of those days.

I walk through the halls of the basement toward the underground parking area and touch the rough and cool cinder block walls.  Hello, wall, I say.

I am happy to be alive.

I am happy to be almost 47 years old, in good health, with food in my refrigerator and a car to get into to go to work.  I am so very blessed to have found some work in this economy (extra high unemployment rate in this city).

Hello, CHICORY! I say to the periwinkle-coloured flowers that beautify every vacant lot, every roadside, every shoulder of every highway right now.  Hello, Queen Ann’s Lace!  Hello, Pink Clover!  If I had scissors with me, I would fill a little jar with these flowers and take them to class. Maybe on Monday.

It’s the kind of mood that makes me want to sing The 59th Street Bridge Song (Feelin’ Groovy).

I’m so happy to be alive.

I spent my morning and afternoon in the level one classes. The students are so precious. They only barely know how to say “My name is…” and “Nice to meet you,”  ”You too,” and “This is…”  But they are all smiles every time you look at them. Many of them have come through a lot.  Refugee camps, some of them.  But they still have sparkle in their eyes. They hold the doors open for us teachers out of respect. They are very eager for their first jobs.  Two of my level two students have had job interviews recently. They are trying hard.

While C gives the lesson…a wonderfully dramatic, funny, animated lesson with lots of pictures…I go from desk to desk peeking at papers to see who needs help.  Sometimes a student will point to a word and then look at my face while pointing to his mouth. This means, “Please say this word for me.”  I say the word and the student repeats it over and over, trying hard to mimic my sounds.

Today they did more work with kinship terms. By now they have grandmother, grandfather, mother, father, son, daughter, sister, brother, parents, children and grandparents down pat.  We take turns saying whether we are married. Everyone in the class is married except the two teachers present.  We take turns answering where we met our significant others. Most of them met their spouses in church.  I met my partner on the Internet, I report.  They are intrigued. None of them have Internet at home, I’m fairly certain. They are learning to use computers at school.

This class is a low level one. Many of them spend another 2.5 hours in the literacy classroom after lunch. Many of them have been kept illiterate by an oppressive regime. They want to learn. They try very hard, but for some the tiniest successful exchange with a native speaker is much, much harder than pulling teeth. Teacher C is very patient. I don’t know how he does it day after day, taking heart in the smallest triumphs.

At one point the instructor had to go to another part of the building to fax some documents to the students’ case workers. I was alone with them.  I didn’t want the time wasted, so I thought to stand up and point to some of the words on the board, see if we could do a little more practice with the kinship terms.  But I wasn’t sure what to do.

Before I had time to worry about how to use the time, one of the older women asked, “Teacher,  you no married?”

I confirmed but explained using a lot of gesture that I have a boyfriend and that we probably will get married in the future. All their eyes were on me as I explained the situation using only the words they already know.

I described Sylvain’s living arrangement, and they laughed at my pantomiming that it is a household a bit too busy for my taste.  It was easy since they do understand the words mother, father, and sister.  One of them piped up, “lots of laundry!”  We laughed. They were getting the idea.

Then–using more gestures than words–I described my living arrangement. They know the word “apartment.”  I mimed myself eating supper all alone, and they understood when I play-acted washing up only “one dish, one spoon, one fork, one glass!”  Easy!  Ahhhh.

I said, “Saturday? Teacher Kelly wakes up at 9:00. Nice!” They all laughed and the ones with small children indicated their envy.

Then one of them said to me, “You get married 2011.”  This is a sweet trait of many women I have met from other cultures. Often they want to reassure me that it’s not too late, I’ll get married soon.

I know them all by name now, and they so enjoy it when I greet them in the halls. One of them offered me a bottle of water from his satchel today.

What lovely, lovely people.