Papers and crayons tumble to the floor. There are 15 bodies to 10 desks. 3 heads submerge under the table. I crawl under to fetch them. I emerge and find two other bodies violently intertwined on the floor. Spanish curses are uttered from behind. I see scratches, blood, and tears. I feel hungry and nauseous. I close my eyes for 4 seconds. This is all a terrible illusion. I open my eyes. The pieces to the 1000 piece puzzle I begged the children not to open inundate the floor. What am I doing here?
When I was assigned to work for three weeks at Baby Ben (Ben Franklin Elementary School) I was told my job was to teach English to ESL children. However 2 hours and 6 Peptos later, I realized this task was impossible. The class is a jungle gym swarming with children of different nationalities, languages, ages, and temperaments. While I attempt to teach verbs and nouns, 4 little ones are hiding under the table stepping on their classmates’ toes. Another 2 are wrestling. Another 3 are thankfully quiet but are only able to complete the assignment by copying off their peers’ papers. I had come with the intention of teaching but it didn’t take me long to realize I was running a day care (and was doing a pretty bad job of it).
I decide to break the children into 2 groups. I put the 5 younger ones who can’t read and write (2 of them don’t talk) to do a worksheet, on which they scribble and feebly attempt to color. I work with the other 10 kids on pronunciation and vocabulary. 6 minutes later I am interrupted by a child who needs to use the bathroom. 8 minutes later is lunch time, then recess, then another bathroom break. After that their focus is gone so learning for the day is futile. I watch as the kids fill the buses, praying they hop onto the right one. I put my ipod on and go home thinking.
A 5 year old tells me she wants my hair. The trouble-maker finishes his worksheet. The lost child is found hidden in the bathroom stall. The Hawaiian student gently pushes the Honduran toddler on the swing. The 17 year old caresses the crying 3 year old. 2 dirty sweaty arms embrace me from behind. The hurting child clutches my hand. The “mute” child utters his first English word. I smile. I kinda don’t want to leave this jungle gym.
When I was assigned to work for three weeks at Baby Ben (Ben Franklin Elementary School) I was told my job was to teach English to ESL children. However 2 hours and 6 Peptos later, I realized this task was impossible. The class is a jungle gym swarming with children of different nationalities, languages, ages, and temperaments. While I attempt to teach verbs and nouns, 4 little ones are hiding under the table stepping on their classmates’ toes. Another 2 are wrestling. Another 3 are thankfully quiet but are only able to complete the assignment by copying off their peers’ papers. I had come with the intention of teaching but it didn’t take me long to realize I was running a day care (and was doing a pretty bad job of it).
I decide to break the children into 2 groups. I put the 5 younger ones who can’t read and write (2 of them don’t talk) to do a worksheet, on which they scribble and feebly attempt to color. I work with the other 10 kids on pronunciation and vocabulary. 6 minutes later I am interrupted by a child who needs to use the bathroom. 8 minutes later is lunch time, then recess, then another bathroom break. After that their focus is gone so learning for the day is futile. I watch as the kids fill the buses, praying they hop onto the right one. I put my ipod on and go home thinking.
A 5 year old tells me she wants my hair. The trouble-maker finishes his worksheet. The lost child is found hidden in the bathroom stall. The Hawaiian student gently pushes the Honduran toddler on the swing. The 17 year old caresses the crying 3 year old. 2 dirty sweaty arms embrace me from behind. The hurting child clutches my hand. The “mute” child utters his first English word. I smile. I kinda don’t want to leave this jungle gym.
-Alicia Zelek
1 comment:
jungle gyms are fun
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