Monday, December 13, 2010

Should be going to sleep right now.

This week is music week. Two of the teachers at the school asked me to pick a song and give the students lyrics with missing words that they'ed try to fill in while listening. "Pick a song," they said, "Any song you like." Well I did and it was rejected. Song number two as well. "It should be catchy, popular, commercial." We ended up with Britney Spears.

One of the words in this song is "guy". Not to be pronounced "goo-ey", nor to be confused with "gay". Nevertheless one of my students took it upon herself to seize the opportunity to slander some who's-a-who just as soon as the other teacher walked out of the room. Said who's-a-who is definitely gay, according to this girl, because someone saw him hanging out with some other guy. This girl is malicious, I swear to you. First of all this is broadcasted loudly to the whole class, which up until moments before had been quietly listening to me like angels and were now instead scandalized by her obviously doubtless accusation. Second of all she had timed it so perfectly that I didn't even realize the Spanish teacher had stepped out of the room; my first reaction was holy crap I can't believe she said that in front of the professor. And my second reaction was holy crap this girl's good, Ana has stepped out. My third reaction was how the hell do I give a lecture on accepting homosexuality to a class of thirty 15-year-olds? Also nuns live in the building so I think officially they might have some kind of policy on that. Also they're speaking Spanish so in theory I'm not supposed to understand or let them know that I understand them, since I'm the English teacher. I think this girl is evil, she's just like a mean mean girl and she tries so hard to be a shit with me every class I have with her.

Pues, nada. With my private lessons today we listened to Christmas and lots of Michael Jackson since Miguel was trying to decide which one he wanted to memorize and sing in class. He settled on the lyrics to Billie Jean which feature many many repetitions of:

Billie Jean Is Not My Lover
She's Just A Girl Who Claims That I Am The One
But The Kid Is Not My Son
She Says I Am The One, But The Kid Is Not My Son

Ten-year-old Miguel is pretty good at English but I hope not that good. María on the other hand is getting quite talented at avoiding my prompts at English conversation. She told me she'd started writing a new story and would tell me about it when it was finished, but for now "it's a secret." Ah, that's nice I thought, it's like a surprise. Well then today she pulled that line on me several more times. What's the play that you're performing at school about? It's a secret. Why does that boy at school annoy you so much? It's a secret. Are you avoiding my questions? It's a secret.

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