My name is...Sweet
It’s been awhile…again. I was lacking inspiration and waiting for it to strike. Sometimes inspiration bangs, thumps and hits so loudly that it reaches in to my dreams to wake me up and pages and pages of prose ensue. Other times inspiration tip-toes ever so gently and sneaks up on you, like a quiet tap on the shoulder. This time inspiration came in the form of sweaty heads, broken English and head-lice, I guess it can’t always be poetic or life altering.
On Tuesday I went to the local SDA elementary school to weigh and measure all the kids. The school hired an English teacher this year as a first step towards making the school bilingual. The English teacher (who is also my Spanish tutor) asked if I could make the experience educational and speak to the kids in English. No problem, how hard could it be? I thought. Since they’ve only been in class for about a month, they hadn’t yet mastered the basics of name, age and birthdate. There were plenty of funny moments throughout the morning though:
Tina : “What is your name?”
Boy: “Twenty-two September. “
Tina: “ Umm, No. What- is- your- name?”, I repeat very slowly.
Boy: Blank look
Tina: “Okay, Como te llamas?”
Tina: When is your birthday?
Girl: “Nine”
Tina: “Nine what?”
Girl: “Uhhhh, ¿Qué?
My favorite was an interaction with a first grader.
What is your name? “my eh-name iz Sweet,” she replied confidently.
“Sweet?” I ask doubtfully. I’d heard some crazy names for Honduras, like Arlington (spelt Arlinthon), Emerson and Anderson, but this one was exceptional. “Yes” she replied. I quickly looked down at my list of first-graders. I didn’t see Sweet on my page but I did find a Dulce. I dropped the English and switch back to Spanish. I asked her if she meant to say Dulce. She nodded her head eagerly. “Dulce, you don't translate your name, that doesn't change.” Thank God for that, because if we did, my name would be ‘tub’ in Spanish, I think to myself. She seemed a bit disappointed at this news.
The morning was spent bending over and squatting down to be eye level with the kids. Since I made them take off their shoes for an accurate measurement, my nostrils were accosted by smelly feet. My hands were covered in gel and sweat from plastering down their hair for the height reading. I found boogers on my arm. They weren´t mine. Surprisingly, none of this was really gross to me, the weird part was realizing that it didn´t really bother me. The best part of it all was walking by the school the next day and having all these little hands wave frantically at me and shouting “Hola Tina!!!”
The afternoon was spent re-treating kids at the local orphanage for lice. I’ve never seen nor had lice so I was actually quite excited about this project. My job was washing hair with lice-treatment which smelt like gasoline, this was then followed by vinegar rinse, and finally, conditioner. The girls were less than thrilled about having their hair cut. One girl told me that she just wanted her hair cut a little inch, not a big inch. I tried telling her that inch is an exact measurement, but she didn’t believe me.
The whole time we’re doing this, a little boy named Augustine is watching us with wide eyes and begging me to put vinegar in his hair, he thinks it’s some sort of special beauty treatment
Augustine: “Please??? I want a lot of vinegar in my hair!”
Me: “Augustine, I don’t think you have lice.”
Augustine: “Yes I do! I have lots and lots of lice!”
Me: “You really don’t want vinegar, it smells bad and it kind of stings”
Augustine: “But I neeeeeed vinegar."
Finally Belen finishes the last girl’s haircut and pulls out her hair clippers and calls Augustine over. He jumps for joy. While Belen is plugging in the clippers Augustine runs off and comes back with soaking wet hair. “What the… oh no, what did you do? I can’t use the clippers on wet hair.” Belen says.
The disappointment was evident in his big brown eyes with those never ending eyelashes. We went back the next day to tackle the boys and Augustine finally got his haircut. After the buzz cut, Belen saw a single laos hanging on for dear life on his hair. “Okay Augustine, I guess your wish is coming true today, you get to rinse your hair with vinegar” Belen said. He was ecstatic, he even did a little dance. His excitement only lasted until he felt the sting and gagged from the smell of the vinegar. After hanging out with kids all week, I couldn’t resist, I had to say “I told you that you wouldn’t like it!”
prunes, over and out
Quote of the day: The most interesting information comes from children, for they tell all they know and then stop.- Mark Twain
On Tuesday I went to the local SDA elementary school to weigh and measure all the kids. The school hired an English teacher this year as a first step towards making the school bilingual. The English teacher (who is also my Spanish tutor) asked if I could make the experience educational and speak to the kids in English. No problem, how hard could it be? I thought. Since they’ve only been in class for about a month, they hadn’t yet mastered the basics of name, age and birthdate. There were plenty of funny moments throughout the morning though:
Tina : “What is your name?”
Boy: “Twenty-two September. “
Tina: “ Umm, No. What- is- your- name?”, I repeat very slowly.
Boy: Blank look
Tina: “Okay, Como te llamas?”
Tina: When is your birthday?
Girl: “Nine”
Tina: “Nine what?”
Girl: “Uhhhh, ¿Qué?
My favorite was an interaction with a first grader.
What is your name? “my eh-name iz Sweet,” she replied confidently.
“Sweet?” I ask doubtfully. I’d heard some crazy names for Honduras, like Arlington (spelt Arlinthon), Emerson and Anderson, but this one was exceptional. “Yes” she replied. I quickly looked down at my list of first-graders. I didn’t see Sweet on my page but I did find a Dulce. I dropped the English and switch back to Spanish. I asked her if she meant to say Dulce. She nodded her head eagerly. “Dulce, you don't translate your name, that doesn't change.” Thank God for that, because if we did, my name would be ‘tub’ in Spanish, I think to myself. She seemed a bit disappointed at this news.
The morning was spent bending over and squatting down to be eye level with the kids. Since I made them take off their shoes for an accurate measurement, my nostrils were accosted by smelly feet. My hands were covered in gel and sweat from plastering down their hair for the height reading. I found boogers on my arm. They weren´t mine. Surprisingly, none of this was really gross to me, the weird part was realizing that it didn´t really bother me. The best part of it all was walking by the school the next day and having all these little hands wave frantically at me and shouting “Hola Tina!!!”
 |
| The older girls helping de-lice |
The whole time we’re doing this, a little boy named Augustine is watching us with wide eyes and begging me to put vinegar in his hair, he thinks it’s some sort of special beauty treatment
Augustine: “Please??? I want a lot of vinegar in my hair!”
Me: “Augustine, I don’t think you have lice.”
Augustine: “Yes I do! I have lots and lots of lice!”
Me: “You really don’t want vinegar, it smells bad and it kind of stings”
 |
| My first time using clippers |
 |
| Augustine playing with a piece of cut hair |
The disappointment was evident in his big brown eyes with those never ending eyelashes. We went back the next day to tackle the boys and Augustine finally got his haircut. After the buzz cut, Belen saw a single laos hanging on for dear life on his hair. “Okay Augustine, I guess your wish is coming true today, you get to rinse your hair with vinegar” Belen said. He was ecstatic, he even did a little dance. His excitement only lasted until he felt the sting and gagged from the smell of the vinegar. After hanging out with kids all week, I couldn’t resist, I had to say “I told you that you wouldn’t like it!”
prunes, over and out
Quote of the day: The most interesting information comes from children, for they tell all they know and then stop.- Mark Twain
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