She also explained that they are on a block schedule, and that I would be teaching A days at the junior high, and B days at the high school (which were not in fact on the same campus--the high school is a 10 minute drive away, and is also not yet completely built). Since she's the junior high principal, it was from her that I eventually found out what my schedule was going to be there: Two classes of French I, one class of French II, and one class of "Study Skills."
It wasn't until I finally emailed the high school vice principal this week that I got to find out my remaining two classes. Since I wasn't signed up for any Spanish at the junior high, I had assumed the high school load would probably be Spanish I classes. But, actually, I will be doing a combined French I and II class, and then a combined French III and IV class.
I was surprised. I'm going to be a French teacher. Somehow, I didn't think I'd ever end up as a French teacher. I started college as a French major, but at some point switched to Spanish Teaching with a minor in French Teaching. I don't remember my reasoning, exactly, but I'm pretty sure that part of it was that I thought Spanish was going to be more marketable. Towards graduation, I actually had a few sad moments where I thought about all the work I've put into French, and how I wouldn't get to use it anywhere.
But it turns out, I'm going to teach French. Huh.
Thinking about Spanish, though, I've had a few moments I'd like to share. I hear a lot more Spanish around me from day to day than I do French. And one of the serious benefits of studying another language is being able to eavesdrop. (That, and being able to have your own secret conversations.) I've heard three interesting comments lately:
1. At the grocery store one day, there was a mom and a couple of kids who I started to notice. A girl was riding on that under-part of the cart, and she was saying, "Para, Mom! ¡Para!" After a few rounds of this, the frustrated mom finally said to her daughter, "I don't know what that means!" to which the girl responded, "Para means stop."
I don't know for sure, of course, but it looked like the girl was enrolled in a dual immersion program and was acquiring Spanish, but her mom didn't know any Spanish. It was an interesting exchange--it made me think of immigrant families, where the kids get English super fast, where they start to grow up as Americans. I imagine their childhood and experiences can be so different from their parents', to the point where their parents might sometimes have to stop and say, "I don't know what that means!"
2. Since graduation in April, I've been on a few trips with my family. We've been out to Sacramento and to San Diego visiting my sisters, as well as to St. Louis. Especially in California, I had my eyes peeled for materials I could use for Spanish classes. I figured places the gift shops of Cabrillo National Monument (commemorating the landing of Spanish explores in 1542) and Sutter's Fort would be great places--the history of some of these places is intertwined with Spanish-speaking people, but also so many Spanish-speaking people live around these places! There's such a huge presence of Latinos in our country, I figured places like these would be considering that by doing things like having materials in Spanish. I could hardly find anything, though.
In the gift shop at the Gateway Arch in St. Louis, I found out I wasn't the only one thinking this way. A native Spanish-speaking couple was there, looking around, browsing the huge selection of books. They were looking for something specific. The wife showed a book to her husband, and he said, "Pero lo quiero en español." But I want it in Spanish.
3. This week I was leaving the gym as a family of Spanish-speakers was coming in. The kids were young. The older sister (who was only maybe seven years old) was directing her younger brother to open the doors for their mom pushing a stroller. "¡Los puertas!" she directed her brother. "¡Los dos puertas!" The doors! she was saying. Both the doors!
I was walking past and I thought, she should be saying "las puertas." Spanish has masculine and feminine nouns, and while the little girl was calling the doors masculine, they're actually feminine. I've been intimidated by the prospect of heritage speakers who might be in my classes. There were a few when I was student teaching, and they made me so nervous. Walking past the little girl, I actually (very) briefly considered turning to her and correcting her: "Las puertas, mija." I didn't, but I walked away thinking, maybe--just maybe--I do have something to offer to those heritage speakers in my classes.
