#when i catch you esol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

artzychic27 · 1 year ago

Note

Everything is the same except Marc’s the antichrist. The donor Alyssa and Penny found for Marc turned out to be… You guessed it! The Devil

Strange events seemed to happen around Marc when he was born

The lights flickered, he projectile vomited on the Doctor, he’s got a 666 birthmark on the back of his head, thirteen birds fell out of the sky all at once, and a nurse spilled a blood bag that formed a skull and crossbones

The nurses practically begged Alyssa and Penny to take Marc home after looking him over to make sure everything was okay

Then the hospital burned down a week later

Alyssa/Penny: …

Penny: … So, we maybe should have met the father before we made our final decision.

Alyssa: *Gestures to two y/o Marc crawling on the ceiling* You think?

They still love their little demon baby. They just sleep with one eye open at all times

All of Marc’s homeroom teachers died of mysterious circumstances

Mme. Mendeleiv is the only one to survive

When Marc gets angry, his skin catches on fire and birds suddenly fall out of the sky

No, he’s not going into politics. He just wants to create horrifying comics with his boyfriend and eat souls

—

Marc: *Head rotates as he talks in reverse* slatrom eid, epoh lla esol, gniyd si esrevinu eht!

Nathaniel: He’s so pretty.

Alix: 😨

—

Kim: There’s only one way to prove Marc is the antichrist!

Max: How?

Kim: Through science! *Pulls out a crossbow* If I shoot him, and he lives, he’s the antichrist.

—

Louis: *Talking shit about Nathaniel*

Marc: *Horns spurt from his head* Speak such a way of my boyfriend and I will devour your mortal soul!

*Later*

Nathaniel: Rainbow, have you noticed Louis has been quiet?

Marc: Gosh, I wonder why. *Wipes some blood off of his cheek*

—

Simon: Did it just get colder in here?

Marc: *Walks into the classroom* Morning.

Simon: That explains it.

—

Marc: You… Are by far the most evil creature I have ever met.

Austin A: Aaw! Thank you.

Marc: Give me your soul.

Austin A: I want your soul.

Marc: No! You can’t have my soul! *Tries to suck out Austin A’s soul, but he slaps him across the face* Keep your stupid soul!

Marc and Simon get along well, actually. Yes, he’s Catholic and his friend/classmate is the literal spawn of Satan, but they’re still tight

Nathaniel is one of the very few people able to reign Marc in when he tries to steal someone’s soul out of the blue

Marc: *Sucking out Lila’s soul*

Nathaniel: Marc…

Marc: But-

Nathaniel: No.

Marc: Fine.

Kiran is fully humanly because Alyssa and Penny found a new donor because one demon child is enough

*Marc meeting his dad for the first time*

Devil: *Rides up to DuPont on a motorcycle and chugs some soda before tossing it behind him, resulting in an explosion* Come to your father, Damian! *Makes a ring of fire appear around Marc*

Marc: Uh… Who?

Devil: Huh. Not getting a Damian vibe.

Nathaniel: Rainbow, who is this?

Devil: This your boyfriend? *Marc nods* The future is here and queer! I support and believe in you.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #marc anciel #nathaniel kurtzberg #answered ask #ask me stuff #mlb au

24 notes · View notes

fandom-junk-drawer · 2 years ago

Text

The Witcher Headcanon - Trouble Bonus Scene - Part 6: A Bonus Bonus Scene

Jaskier was teased relentlessly for weeks after the curse wore off. There were more than a few 'Hey, F**k --d*mn it-- I mean Lambert!'s heard, and eventually, Jaskier just started using it as one of Lambert's nicknames, much to Lambert's irrtation.

Jaskier wasn't the only one trying to control automatic reactions. Geralt kept catching himself hovering over Jaskier.

He also had to constantly stop himself from trying to pick him up and carry him anytime he saw Jaskier stand up to go anywhere.

And perhaps the most embarrassing of all: he did That Thing.

You know, That Thing parents do to check if their child is wet. Yeah. THAT THING. He just reached down and grabbed. Geralt and Jaskier had just stood there, staring at each other, frozen in shock. Jaskier's eyes had glanced down, then back up, then he looked Geralt in the eye and said "Can you not?" . The whole time Geralt's brain was just going "I'd like to LeEeEeeeeEeEeEEeEAaAaaaavVEeeEEEeEEEEE!"

It was a small mercy that they were in the lab at the time so the only one who witnessed the violation was Yennefer, who couldn't stop cackling.

Yennefer kept catching herself either trying to spoonfeed Jaskier, or wipe his face while he was eating. And there might have been a few times she said something like "Here, lamb, let Ma help you." or "Go find your Da and tell him to...". And she kept trying to make a nest of furs and blankets on his bed when he was ready to turn in.

Geralt's brothers mercilessly teased each other whenever one of them started using baby talk with Jaskier. Eskel just owned it. If he was going to do it, he was going to have fun with it. He called Jaskier 'Baby Bird' on purpose.

Of course they all used eachother's 'Baby Jaskier' names. Coen and Aiden had the most normal sounding names. 'Cone' and 'Den' were relative tame compared to 'F**k'. And Eskel had immediately accepted the knowledge that his 'Esol' was going to end up as 'A**hole'

It was down right humiliating when somenone told Jaskier 'no' and he'd feel tears start gathering in his eyes. And then he would automatically look at Geralt. And Geralt would look at those puppy eyes and have to stop himself and just 'Hm!'.

Meanwhile Lambert was having to cover his face and growl "Don't f***ing look at me!" otherwise he was up and getting/doing what Jaskeir wanted.

And it was super awkward when Jaskier called Geralt and Yennefer 'Da' and 'Ma'. It was so embarrassing! Especially if he did it infront of the other Witchers. He wanted to just crawl into whatever crack in the wall he was closest to and hide. He was sure he could manage it. He just had to suck it in and think skinny thoughts.

He thought Vesemir was going f***ing physically ascend to the next plane of existence every time he accidentally called him 'Pa'.

And don't you dare even mention the whine that would creep into his voice when he started getting tired.

Yennefer was asking her 'lamb' if he was tired

Geralt was picking him up under the arms and trying to put him over his shoulder.

There was an uncomfortable pause as Jaskier danlged from Geralt's hands while everyone processed what was happening. No eye contact was made. Jaskier was set back down, and everyone went about their business in awkward silence.

He also had to deal with the incredibly embarrassing urge to randomly suck his thumb, especially when he was upset, or sleepy. Thank all the gods he'd been able to keep that reaction under control! He couldn't imagine the chaos it would have caused if anyone had witnessed it.

Jaskier managed to always get to his room before he started getting really sleepy. That way he could avoid any potential embarrassment. And if Yennefer and Geralt had just so happened to be tucking him in when he'd rolled onto his side and started sucking his thumb as he fell asleep, well, they never said a word about it to him.

And don't get him started on how Yennefer kept using "Hey, I wiped your a** for you!" whenever she was trying to get him to do something for her.

Jaskier *embarrassed wail* StOp f***iNg rEmiNdiNg mE, YEnNeFeR!"

Lambert perhaps made the most fatal public slip up of the entire winter. They had all been sitting in front of the fireplace, having just finished eating. Jaskier was changing his shirt after something he'd said had made Eskel spit his ale all over him.

He'd gotten the shirt on, but not buttoned yet, and made a sassy comment at Yennefer. She'd thrown a cushion at him, knocking him over backwards. Lambert had looked at him and before he could stop himself, he had leaned down and blown a raspberry on Jaskier's stomach.

It was over. That was it. Painful awkward silence blanketed the Great Hall.

"If you wanted to blow me, you could have just asked." Jaskier said with one of his quiet, playful little chuckles.

Lambert cringed. Ah f**k, he'd already made a dirty joke about it!

The Hall erupted in laughter.

Now it was even worse. Time to go hang the old medallion on the tree, find the nearest window, and yeet himself into the afterlife. There would be no coming back from this. No. There was zero hope of ever living this down.

Aiden came to his rescue. He'd given Eskel a look and suddenly he was pinning the Bard to the floor and Eskel was blasting a raspberry on his stomach. Yennefer had ugly laughed as the Witchers had lined up to take a turn, ignoring Jaskier's indignant protests.

But inspite of the jokes and the laughing, Jaskier could sense that all of it bothered Yennefer. Oh, she would talk to him, smile, and laugh as if everything was normal, but there was something in her eyes.

He first noticed it when he asked her if she would use her magic to resize the little shirts and trousers she'd bought. He'd liked the colors and the embroidery, and he wanted to wear them. She'd made light hearted comments as she handed him the resized clothing, and gone on her way, but later, when she'd seen him wearing the shirt with the birds on it and the peacock blue trousers...

She'd looked at him for a long moment, with an odd look in her eye, before telling him it looked good on him, and then turning and walking away. He hadn't seen her for the rest of the afternoon.

He was very careful to not say a word when Yennefer accidentally called him 'lamb', or 'sweetling', or when she caught herself trying to wipe his face while they were eating. While she never said it, he felt like there was some kind of anger or resentment there.

He'd vaguely explained that the fairy had twisted a wish he'd made, but he'd refused to tell them what the wish had been. He knew Yennefer would have made good on her threat to thrash his ar*e.

"Is Yennefer mad at me?" he'd asked Geralt one evening as they sat in the Great Hall.

"Hmm."

"That was a very noncommital 'hmm', Geralt. "

"Hm."

"I know you know something. She talks to me, but I just feel like she's upset with me for getting that curse put on me. I said I was sorry..."

"Hmm."

"You aren't going to make this easy, are you?"

"Hmmm."

"Fine. I'll go talk to her..."

He found the sorceress in the lab, puttering around, not really doing much of anything. Jaskier started off with a general apology, for all the trouble he'd caused. Yennefer had snapped at him.

"We thought you were going to be stuck like that forever! I had no idea what to do, or where to start looking for a way to break that blasted curse! What the h*ll did you do to get yourself cursed like that?"

"It...it wasn't a curse, per say..." Jaskier swallowed and mumbled something about wishing to be loved and adored by all, and that the fairy had twisted the wish.

"Do you have any idea how hard it was?"

Jaskier couldn't help but feel mildly vexed and a bit offended. "Well, d*mn, Yennefer, " He said in a slightly snarky tone, "I'm sorry you had to play Mommy and take care of a baby-!"

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and he felt his blood turn icy when he saw her physically flinch.

He reeled, ears ringing when Yennefer abruptly slapped him hard across the face. "You selfish b**tard!" she sobbed. Jaskier braced himself, making no effort to stop her as she slapped him again, "How could you do that to me?" she was suddenly burying her head into his chest.

Jaskier felt heartsick. That was the one subject he'd worked so hard to avoid bringing up in any way. It was off limits for banter, and he'd sworn to himself that he'd never use it to hurt her.

And he'd just broken that vow.

Watching her fall apart in his arms , he realized how hard it must have been for her. Realized she was grieving for what she'd given up, found briefly, and now felt as if she'd been robbed of once again.

"F**k! Yen...I..." Jaskier folded her into his arms, and said in a soft voice, "Yen, I never wanted to hurt you, and I'm sorry for what i said. D*mn my mouth! I'm sorry I forced that h*ll upon you..."

Yennefer clung to him, shaking as she continued to cry out her hurt and frustration. Jaskier rested his cheek on her hair, tucking her tighter against him. "Ah, Mother of-! I'm such an ar*ehole! I'm so sorry, dear heart! I know it must have been so painful for you. You didn't have to do it, love. You could have just told those idiots to take me and s*d off, but you didn't. You-you took me into your arms when i reached for you, even though you knew how much it was going to hurt.

Yen...I'm glad it was you and Geralt that took care of me. When I was with you, I felt...loved...

Yennefer pulled back a little to wipe her eyes, thinking about how Jaskier never really said much about his childhood, never really talked about his parents. He might not be the only Viscount in line to inherit the Lettenhove name if they didn't seem to care that he was traipsing around the countryside as a Bard.

Maybe that was why he was always falling in love with every pretty lady he came across. Maybe he was subconsiously looking for the love he'd never gotten as a child. That was it. That was the twist to the wish. He'd wished for love, and gotten it, just not in the way he'd expected.

"Thank you, Yen... Thank you for taking care of me. I-I was happy...when I was with you and Geralt, and those other morons. I don't think I've ever felt so loved and cared for in my entire life."

"You were a sweet little thing, and you were obscenely adorable, I'll admit it." Yennefer said with a small smile. "But you were a right pain in the a**, too! Everytime I took you to the market with me, it took hours because of all the women lining up to fawn over you!"

Jaskier chuckled, dropping a kiss on the top of Yennefer's head. "If there is anything I can do to make things easier for you, Yen, please tell me." he said, cupping her cheek and brushing a tear away with his thumb. "Anything at all. I..I've been having trouble sleeping without someone with me... I remember Geralt putting me on his chest and purring so I could sleep...and I remember you cuddling me. I know you must be having similar problems..."

"Its funny how quickly you get used to small comforts." Yennefer admitted.

"If it helps, I could put on a daiper and-!"

Yennefer swatted his chest with a quiet laugh. Her eyes softened and she reached up and brushed her fingertips tenderly over the red marks on his cheek where she'd slapped him.

The redness disappeared, along with the lingering pain. It was a silent apology for hitting him.

Jaskier smiled, pressing a kiss to her temple before taking her hand and pressing his lips to her palm. All was forgiven. He put his arm around her and lead her out to the Great Hall.

96 notes · View notes

bauliya · 3 years ago

Note

The evil thing about that post is that so many people of color in the United States do know &/or speak a second language and every single time it takes a backseat to English. There’s the millions who are immigrants and descendants of immigrants from everywhere in the world, plus North American indigenous languages people are trying to reconnect with, and States-born languages like AAVE dialect(s) among Black Americans and Spanglish variations among Latinos as well as like Chicano English. There are SO MANY LANGUAGES in the States. But in addition to laws dedicated to beating those languages out of people like Latinos, forcing immigrants and descendants to learn English to assimilate for any kind of economic success and punishing them their entire lives if they dont — in addition to all that we have to learn American English on our own (catching up as fast as we can before they put us in ESOL for the rest of our lives) only to have White Americans gripe and groan their entire lives for never having had somebody personally tutor them in French when they were growing up. They get to just be completely blind at the role that English plays in their lives and in so many others’ lives, and then get to be like “yeah but all the signs at the southern border are in both English and Spanish” as if the bilingual people living on the US/Mexico border get any kind of fucking respect from the general public, the education and economic systems, or either government. It’s enough to make a bitch crazeyyyyy

EXACTLY EXACTLY!!!! AND BY THE WAY DO YOU KNOW THAT IF INTL STUDENTS WHO HAVE STUDIED IN ENGLISH THEIR E N T I R E LIVES HAVE TO SPEND 200 USD WHICH IS MORE THAN MONTHLY RENT IN INDIA TO GET INTO ANY AMERICAN UNI!!! And it expires in 2 years!! And we have to retake it a bunch of times!!!! They force us to fucking learn english and then don't even accept our credentials!! Every major university in india teaches in English, and government schools don't, which means if you're poor you're basically fucked unless your parents take massive loans to send u to private schools! And then they mock us for our accents. Fuck you I'll make fun of u on Tumblr idgaf!

#lesbianboboberens #asks #the toefl is violence honestly.

23 notes · View notes

boreal-sea · 4 years ago

Text

Even if schools go back with options, poorer kids still suffer.

Their parents can’t afford to homeschool them in the first place. When they were forced to homeschool in the spring, I had a front seat because my mom is a teacher. It was painfully obvious which kids were privileged and which ones weren’t.

Poorer kids didn’t have parents home even during the height of the lockdowns; when their parents WERE home they were just as technologically inexperienced as their kids; the lowest kids had the least help, the kids that “got it” had a ton of help. It was a window into these kids’ homes and if you didn’t already know how poverty affects school, this should open your eyes.

So even if poorer student stay home for their own safety in the fall, they will do worse than their privileged peers, and in fact MUCH worse than they do when in the classroom.

ESOL students? Forget it - imagine how hard it is to be immersed in a class, now try to use a computer in a language you barely understand.

So what, we send whoever wants back to class? Again, it’s only gonna be the poor kids, because the rich kids have parents who can afford a babysitter or can afford one parent to stay home, so those kids don’t have to be exposed to COVID-19. These kids do fine with online instruction because they have support, because they’ve had access to tech from a young age, etc.

Either way, the less privileged are stuck in a catch-22, damned if they do, damned if they don’t. An entire generation of children is being harmed by this crisis.

3 notes · View notes

jessicamdawn · 8 years ago

Text

A bunch of my ESOL students were missing when I picked my class up from lunch today. Apparently they’d all been taken out of the lunch room by someone for something. Nice of anyone to tell their classroom teachers about this, right?

Well apparently that somewhere was a pizza party. So four students come in about 8-10 minutes into class, and two of them have a paper plate in their hand, another paper plate flipped upside down on top, and you can just see a napkin sneaking out the side. Since I have no idea where they’ve been, I assume it could be food (they’ve come back with odd Hispanic candies even they can’t describe before), or they made some kind of craft like an instrument or whatever, or who knows what.

The ESOL students work to catch up with the others in the assignment and then, as everyone had stopped paying them any attention, one of the girls comes over and hands me her plates.

It’s for me, she says. Her English isn’t the best, so I verify.

“For me?” Yes. “What is it?” She sort of mimes eating and says Pizza.

I thanked her graciously for the thin slice of pizza she’s so wonderfully given to me and she smiled and went back to her seat. Another ESOL student tried to tell me the pizza wasn’t worth anything, but I ate it as part of my dinner and dang, that was a flavorful piece of pizza. I did not expect that.

But my ESOL students always seem to give me food whenever they go to something like this. The strange candy (which was...papaya flavored, if I’m remembering right), pizza, a baked good, etc.

I’m wondering if a) the giving of food from an event is just part of Hispanic culture or if b) they offer me stuff because I’m their teacher and giving food/gifts to teachers is a Hispanic thing or if c) they just know I like free food and they like me.

#Teaching with Jessica #Random Jessica

1 note · View note

imaginedmelody · 8 years ago

Text

Life update!

I haven’t done any real-life posts in a while- which is actually usually a sign that things are going well, to be honest. I tend to make text posts to complain rather than to do any kind of positive update. :) But I figured I’d keep you all in touch with where I am in life. You know, new year and all that.

So on the one hand, I’m in a better place right now than I’ve been in a long while. Although it doesn’t always feel like it, I started off 2017 pretty strong. I’ve made a pretty good effort at getting household chores to a manageable level, I’m doing better at conforming to a meal plan and getting the basic physical activity of at least stretching every day, I’m doing slightly better keeping up with work responsibilities, and at least until inauguration time (when I think everyone’s mood took a turn for the worse), I was definitely having more good days than bad. It’s more stability than I’ve had in months- maybe years.

On the other hand, “better than I’ve been in a long while” is still...not the same thing as “good.” The latter half of the month has been a slow mental health downward spiral. This isn’t entirely surprising- it happened last year too, for many of the same reasons I’ll explain here, and I’m pretty sure if you were to chart out some observations from previous years, you’d probably find I decline at about this time every year. It’s not just the political upheaval that’s got me floundering, although that definitely contributes; the stress of living in an increasingly oppressive and unrest-plagued nation- especially the center of all the storm, since I live right near Washington D.C.- gets to you really quick. And it’s not just the cold winter season, though that doesn’t help things either.

You all know I don’t cope well with stress. You also know that I don’t handle transitions well- particularly if those transitions come hand in hand with additional responsibilities and pressure. This is especially true if the news of the transition is sudden, although having more advance notice doesn’t entirely alleviate it (you could tell me four months in advance about a change in circumstances and I’ll still be plagued with anxiety when the time comes). Last year, I entered probably my worst mental health low ever in the second week of February, when I ended up having to stay on for the rest of the year and cover the classes that I’d been long-term subbing and was supposed to give back the following week. It was a good transition- more work isn’t a bad thing- but my anxiety and discomfort with transitions has nothing to do with whether they’re good or bad.

I’m hired at a really great school as a part-time employee, with two classes of my own on my roster; the original plan was that I teach those two classes in the morning, then leave after lunch and do my short-term substitute teaching in the afternoons. I like this plan. It’s less money and less steady work, but it minimizes my anxiety and keeps my life manageable. Since late October I’ve been long-term subbing 3 additional classes, which is fine; I can handle it. This Friday was when I was supposed to give them back and return to part-time status.

But regardless of whether you want it or not, when you’re offered more steady work, you don’t refuse. So when my department head and the assistant principal called me into the office about 2 weeks ago and said they had 3 classes available for 2nd semester that they wanted me to take, of course I said yes. So now in addition to my 2 9th grade morning classes, I have 1 study skills class, 1 resource class for English language learners, and 1 11th grade class. The short notice meant I had approximately a week and a half to prepare myself for these completely unfamiliar classes and the increased workload that would come with them- at a time when I had just been looking forward to the relief of going back to a part-time schedule.

I knew my mental health would take a downturn- and, predictably, it did. (Again, the fact that it coincided perfectly with the inauguration and all its fallout didn’t help.) But the classes themselves are also quite challenging. I have no idea what to do with either of the study skills/resource classes. There’s no curriculum, so it’s up to me to impose my own structure, which I can’t seem to figure out how to do on my own. None of the classes are especially badly behaved, but I am having a few challenges in the first study skills class, particularly with students leaving the room without permission. The ESOL class is all students on the early end of learning the language, which means they have almost no English; I have a Spanish-speaking co-teacher in there to help me, but we’re making very slow progress.

The kicker is my 11th-grade class, though. In the interest of keeping me in the same room all afternoon, the administration decided to put my 11th grade English class in the same room that I teach resource in. At the time, that sounded like a good idea, and I agreed with it.

That was before they put a whopping 35 students in the class.

If you’re not familiar with the public school system: 35 kids in a class is a LOT. The class enrollment is supposed to cap at 29. To make matters worse, the resource room is a little windowless alcove in the middle of nowhere. It’s loud (chorus room and another loud class on either side), not well ventilated, and ill-equipped: a projector screen but no projector, chalkboard but no chalk, 2 computers but no laptop cart (each English classroom has a class set of Chromebooks in it- we’re a privileged county in a wealthy community, yeah, I know). Into this tiny room, the administration has crammed 33 desks (I have 2 kids sitting at the computers) and decided this is sufficient.

It’s not.

I know a lot of teachers get by with a lot less in other places, but this just feels like a hot mess to me. I did not think this is what I was signing on for. Finally, after more and more concerned emails to admin (and some complaining to the department- I don’t want to be the thorn in anyone’s side as a fairly new employee, but a little well-placed griping can yield results), another teacher whose room is free that period said that I could use her room. So now we’re out of the dark windowless cavern of the resource room. Today’s class felt more like a class than any other this week. But I still think I’m set up for failure here. I don’t know how to effectively get a 35-person class to achieve results. I’m afraid everything will take us forever. Maybe this is just my own lack of self-confidence speaking, but I am just feeling pretty hopeless about it all.

The toughest part is that I can feel the improved mental health I’d been counting on slowly drifting away. I’d envisioned going back to part-time as an opportunity to really excel 2nd semester, to devote my full attention to my 2 classes and come out with everyone looking really good. Now my attention is torn in 5 different directions- because each of these classes (Honors English 9, On-Level English 9, Study Skills, ESOL Resource, and English 11) are completely different from one another- and I don’t really have much of a handle on anything other than my honors class. On-level isn’t responding well to anything I give them. And for the afternoon ones, my own aimless attempts at running these classes are the problem. But I’m out of my limited prep time, with virtually no days off in sight to catch up, so I’ve jumped in with both feet and I’m just hoping I don’t drown.

I’m trying really hard. I’m trying to not freak out and have a meltdown about work. I’m trying to balance out my home life and make room for fun things. It’s not going incredibly well, but I am trying. Even though there’s no break on the horizon during which I could feasibly take a step back and claw myself out of this rut. I’ll find a way. I just hope all this doesn’t get run into the ground in the process of me figuring it out. Because I know all too well what happens when the combination of increased stress and pressure hits my usual mental downturn: I become overwhelmed, grow completely incapable of motivating myself to do anything, fall so far behind I can’t catch up, and then watch everything unravel and grow more fraught and chaotic around me as a result, which only worsens the apathy and stress and anxiety. There’s such a profound risk, if precedent can be relied on, of that happening to this situation, even though I’m doing everything I can to prevent it.

So...that’s where I am right now?

#imaginedmelody worries #i know i am probably blowing all of this out of proportion #i'm lucky in a lot of ways and things could be so much worse #but this is the second time in the last 12 months that i've been headed for a return to less challenging circumstances #and had it ripped out from under me at the last minute #so i'm having a hard time feeling grateful #(i'm having a hard time feeling anything other than stressed actually)

1 note · View note

lighthouseofthewanderess · 6 years ago

Text

School

(noun): A place kids go to everyday, where they learn history, science, health, and other things of the world.

So you already know about my 14 schools. You also know that there as been some bullying and issues adapting. While this phase of new schools, same yellow pencils were tough to see through, I believe it all made me a stronger person. There were so many people who crossed my path, and this one’s for them. For the schools, the principles, and the young souls that took me in when I was constantly on the line of hate.

My first school, Price Harris, was in Wichita. It was a typical public institution where the popular kids ruled like kings and left the others to play catch up. It was here that my blue coast incident happened. And it was here that I was quarantined, seen like a monster for the little bugs living on my head. Yes, I had lice. My father’s family had them, and even though my dad had cut my hair short, they clung on for dear life and sailed the seas with me. Turns out someone in school had seen a ‘bee’ in my hair and the next few hours slipped out of my hands even before I could try and say ‘I have an explanation.’

Lice is a big deal, even here in India. So I can imagine how I must look like to these Americans. A walking talking host, spreading the infectious bugs to the normal healthy children of the school. A memo was dropped into all our cubby holes and I, like every other person, walked up and slowly read it. Oh my god, it’s my name. Typed in bold, all caps. Yup, they wanted to be clear it was me. The memo went on to say that there’s a girl called this, studying in that class, who has lice. While the school figures out a solution, please maintain distance if you see her. Had I suddenly become a repelling magnet? There was no one around me. Backed against the walls, the kids and the teacher looked at me half scared, half with pity. My mom was summoned at once from work. I was put in a white room, made to sit on a single wooden stool.

“Your daughter… she has been seen with a very small insect. Now, these things aren’t life-threatening. We can fix her.” splicing with the knife versus the band aid. The look on my mom’s face would’ve said something to the equivalent of ‘We are made of steel, don’t treat us like a bubble about to burst.’ What she did say though was:

“Are you talking about lice?” The principal relaxed a bit, the news had been broken and it was received without much damage.

“It is not that uncommon in India. The temperate climate, and the number of people children mix with on a close basis … I know what needs to be done.” my mom stood up, walked to where I was quarantined and from school took me straight to the hairdresser. She asked him to cut it all short, like a buzz cut. The next day, she took a day off and we sat for hours cleaning up my hair. Strand by strand, every inch of my scalp. Two days after the incident, I was back at school and a nurse was assigned to do a thorough check. With a face mask, two latex gloves and a pair of ice, cream sticks, the nurse certified me clean. The Principal was in shock of how my mom took command of the situation. She launched into a lecture about how she cannot make decisions about me without my consent. My mom laughed it away. “You wanted her lice-free. It is done.”

Thankfully I left that school and moved into Gammon Elementary for my second grade. All the feels. It has been my favorite school among all, and the only one I joined back to in 5th grade. For now, I was placed under the care of Mrs. Braet, in a classroom with two guinea pigs as the class pet. Here is where I would understand that you did not have to carry heavy school bags to school, they lived in class. Where I would sharpen my focus on art and imagination over stars and science. Every day started with the national anthem on the intercom and ended with candies earned for good behavior. What a heaven. Here’s also where I met some of my best friends.

I was hanging upside down from the monkey bars when Weston Jones walked up to me.

“Why are you hanging like that?” he asked, his dark blue eyes squinting against the sun

“Why is there a fake scar on your forehead?” I asked instead of answering.

“Oh it’s a Harry Potter scar. I’m a huge fan. Don’t you know the book?” He turned a book he was holding against his chest to its front and I saw an illustrated cover. Looks unreal.

I swung down from my bars and Weston launched into a whole synopsis of the two books that were out. I didn’t find the story interesting, but I found Weston’s enthusiasm and his belief in the story to be something wonderful. His imagination allowed for a book like this. Mine didn’t. And so, I would never go on to read any of the Harry Potter books, even later in life. I would just recount all the conversations with this boy; they were all about the book mostly. At lunch, we would exchange boxes. We would skate every Friday night under the big disco ball. He once told me randomly while waiting in the lunch line - “Your culture has so much to learn from. It’s super cool Priya.” Gee thanks. Something associated with me was cool? Throughout second grade, I wasn’t bullied. I had used up all my slips and falls to learn and shape myself into a normal kid when I got here. I was wholesomely loved. I celebrated my birthday surrounded by my classmates, and Mrs. Braet gave me birthday bumps in front of the whole class. I wore a pretty white silk dress and distributed cupcakes bought from Walmart. Learning was made fun, one annual exam of 60 minutes with a 10 minute snack break in between. It would be stressful otherwise, they felt. Learning is one of the greatest adventures we embark on during the larger part of our life. Very true. School: A place where you’re nurtured to grow into anything you want to be. Where you begin your journey to find what you’d like to do, and learn the things needed to make it come true.

When I had to leave mid 3rd grade back to India, everyone around me had long faces. Why, I wondered. The concept of goodbyes hadn’t been understood yet. So while people signed cards, wished I ate peanuts on the beach for me, or slapped their addresses on my notebook -- I just smiled wide and gave them a hug. Even the teachers teared up and said I was sunshine. Haha, what? My color is purple, not yellow. Weston came over and left me a plastic sunflower to remind me of Kansas. I plucked out a peacock feather from the house decor and left a bit of India with him. I went to Chuk E Cheese, traded all the game coupons I earned and got myself a gift from the envious top shelf. Mackenzie, my other best friend, and I played a game or two for old times sake and plunged into greasy slices of pizza. Her mother watched us eat, and when Mackenzie left to the restroom she spoke to me of friendship.

“You guys can be like pen pals. It’s just a world, not another universe. Write to her, no matter how silly. Stay friends with Mackenzie, she really likes you.” Her words would ring in my head come every Christmas, and I would write a letter to the only address I have in hand. I would get a message on Facebook a month later about how I sent it to her mother’s house and how her mother recognized my name and dropped it off at her place.

Even though I stopped going to school, we still spent a few weeks wrapping up our life for good in Kansas. Mom took me to school one last time to say goodbye and I went straight to the principal Mrs. Fullerton to give her a big hug. “We’re really going to miss you.” she said softly, and took me to the gym-turned-lunch room. This moment was the closest I’ll get to fame, the one I revist when I doubt myself over and over again.

When we stepped in, a silence fell. My eyes frantically searched for the familiar faces of my class so that I can go to them. I had also been mixing with kids from other classes who I met at ESOL. And some more through Girl’s Scout of 99’. The minute I started spotting them, the auditorium tore off into a cheer.

“School, guess who it is!” Mrs. Fullerton cooed loudly. And in unison, all 550 students called out my name. How they all know me is a different story, let’s focus on my moment of sweet glory.

I heard some questions around me. Did you go to India and come back?Are you not going any more? Will you be staying with us now? How I wish I cried at that moment, let them know I was so sad about leaving all these beautiful souls. Well, I didn’t. I blew kisses in the air and walked up to where my class was sitting and launched with them. The last supper.

The echoing of that cheer was with me till I landed in India. Till I stood outside the gate of my new school - Spartan, in Chennai. One foot in, and that echo finally died. In front of me was a dry, dusty school ground. Someone knocked my shoulder and ran off. I travelled in my head back to the time I tapped on someone’s shoulder and got thrown in detention because of infringing personal space. Ha. And were there so many children? The place was literally crawling with them. Luckily, I had come to school with another girl from my neighborhood. Jaswanti. I still remember the first sentence I uttered to her. “Where’s the restroom?” Peals of laughter, all around me, at my thickly accented American English. “We say toilet here.” Ugh. It was going to be a very long day. And I will have to swing like a pendulum, once again.

This isn’t the end of my school story, but it does mark something significant. Life had come a full circle at the tender age of 9. I had transported myself into the future that was America, and now back into my roots. My people, my soil. Yet so different, unbelonging. The first few days, I missed my friends and school sorely. I wish I brought back some of the gifts they had given me. But our suitcases were full. And so, we had stupidly given it to someone else to bring back with them when they visit India. A singed pillow from my Girl’s Scout. A sunflower, a boot-shaped picture keychain. I willed my mind to remember more and more of my days there. How I would swing on the monkey bars, the mist from the little electric fan that the PT teacher treated us to after recess. The hours sent with oodles of glue and Crayola markers. The mind palace of Weston T Jones. Anything other than the hours of sitting in one place, the utter stupidity of it all. Of being taught ‘what to think’ and not ‘how to think’. Were teachers even teachers here if they thought for you and dictated answers? The heavy bag I carried to school and back sunk me to the ground each day. I wished I didn’t take my life there for granted, if only I could go back there again. Stop it. I gave myself another pep talk. It was high time. The time had come when I needed to be a chameleon again. “You will never be like them in their eyes. You are meant to belong here, but you don’t have to.” My accent stuck with me for far too long, made it harder for me to fit in. But I pushed through. 13 subjects, not 7. Exams every quarter, tests every week, and homework every day. I just wanted to disappear from it all. This was clearly too much stress for any student. There was a dissonance within. Having to do something that I clearly didn’t believe in. Being forced to it and given the example of others who didn’t even think twice about it. This just sucks on so many levels. Learning is supposed to be an adventure. It really didn’t matter what I thought when the rest of the world was spinning the other way. Don’t try to change it, just adapt. I turned all my anger to rote learning. I shook my head clear the minute any memory from US snuck in. It’s not what I needed to get past this part of life. I moved schools again, half of 4th grade was spent in a girl’s school - DAV, Chennai. Nothing changed though, if at all, it was worse. Girls were believed to be an obedient bunch, and I was anything but that. I was labelled as the girl from abroad and I could see how words were swimming around in their heads when they looked at me. Words that weren’t English.

#nanowrimo #nano writing #nano 2018 #writing #writedaily #wrimo #loveforwriting #writing challenge #day4

0 notes

careergrowthblog · 7 years ago

Text

Empowering speech, challenges on ‘correctness’ and some questions for sociolinguists.

A couple of years ago I wrote a post called ‘Modelling good speech: Let’s talk properly‘ and, on a whim, I recycled it very recently. It’s very much a ‘from the hip’ kind of blog but, nonetheless, most of the responses I get are positive, including from English teachers. However, there has always been some heavy – even angry – criticism including most recently from various people including sociolinguists like Rob Drummond and commentators like Oliver Kamm from The Times. I have just found this article that pretty much rips my blog apart on a blog for English Language A level students – it captures some of the negative responses: http://ift.tt/2hbIFDR. I tend to filter out the outrage but it’s impossible to be criticised so robustly and not take notice. So, as promised in my twitter exchange with Rob, Oliver and James Durran, here is a follow-up. I have genuine questions.

The context for my original post was working in a very mixed school where the range of speech modes was huge and where the issues of disadvantage and empowerment were evident daily. One example I often think of was hearing a successful academic student with a key leadership role giving a report in assembly after a very special school trip. This was, without question, an occasion for formal speech where a formal speech code would have been appropriate, not least because he was a significant role-model. Through-out his speech he used ‘done’: “We done a trek; we done a trip to the market; we done a presentation”. He was an EAL student having arrived from another country some 10 years before but my instinct was that, since he had been in that school for six years, we should have done a better job in teaching him the formal speech code that would have led him to say ‘we went on a trek; we gave a presentation’ and so on.

My sense is that, without that fluency and self-awareness, this student will be undermined and undeservedly disempowered in the real world where formal speech carries significant value. Is that wrong? It was also my strong feeling that a major reason this student had not yet fully mastered appropriate formal speech was that, throughout his time in the school, teachers had been reluctant to address the issue on a day to day basis for fear of being insensitive or denigrating his default speech mode. I discussed it with him explicitly – because he had interviews to prepare for. He saw it as a failing of his education that he hadn’t been taught to ‘speak well’ – as he put it – even when he wanted to and he was concerned that the habits were now hard to break.

Another context is that the Speaking and Listening component of English GCSE, while it remained, had yielded startlingly good results, catapulting the school into the top 5% of value-adding schools for English GCSE overall. Did this match their actual confidence with speaking in general or their underlying skills with English language? No. It was an illusion generated by intensive scripted rehearsal with serious consequences – because there had been no emphasis on building authentic confidence with formal speech.

In response, we introduced a wide-reaching oracy programme to address the issue with structured speech activities across the curriculum. Project Soapbox – giving every KS3 child an opportunity to make a public speech – and poetry recitations were becoming a feature of school life alongside more regular opportunities for debates, presentations and student-led teaching episodes. More simply, we were trying to develop a culture were students gave more extended verbal answers in class and, yes, where certain common ungrammatical phrases were challenged/redirected/corrected.

This has nothing to do with dialects or accents. I used to work in Wigan where accents were so localised that, even as a Southerner, after three years I could tell if someone came from Leigh, Wigan, Skelmersdale or St Helens. It was part of everyday chatter that accents and phrases were discussed. My own use of English was a constant source of banter with students. Some students would use phrases like ‘ave for t’ go for t’ get bus’ (affott go fott get bus). That’s the kind of linguist diversity that we should all embrace. But those students could also say ‘I have to catch a bus’ if they needed to; if they chose to. My use of ‘properly’ is only meant in reference to that context when students simply make mistakes in relation to a formal code that they themselves are seeking to use.

However, as a result of this debate, I understand that it is important to be very clear about context and terminology and I regret the rather flippant approach taken in my original post. It was meant as a provocation but that now seems inappropriate and certainly open to misinterpretation of the intentions. If there is a bit of an us/them element, the ‘us’ is anyone who is fluent in using formal English appropriate to any formal setting whenever they wish; the ‘them’ is anyone disempowered by not having full access to that code. My intentions are good – despite the dismay and disapproval my post generated for some.

I am keen to understand how we can move forward with this vitally important agenda whilst also taking account of sociolinguistic factors.

I wonder if we could all agree on some things:

Language is constantly changing so any sense of ‘correctness’ could only ever be temporary in a very specific context and, as such, is problematic.

There are multiple forms of language that make up what we call English, each of which has value; the relative value placed on any one code is arbitrary and driven by social factors, snobbishness and so on.

The speech of those in positions of power should not, on principle, dictate what is correct or proper for everyone in their everyday speech. ‘Correct’ and ‘proper’ have no value at all as terms for language in general.

At any given time, de facto, there is a widely accepted formal speech code that can be defined through common grammatical rules and vocabulary albeit with wide- ranging, constantly evolving alternatives. This code is aligned to written Standard English and the common speech mode of those in powerful privileged positions and, as such, is, de facto, empowering, whether we like it or not. It is important for children and adults to have access to this speech code and to be able to use it in the appropriate context – or at least have the capacity to choose to use it.

We are never talking about or privileging certain accents: formal speech, however it is defined, can be and is spoken in any accent.

In order to have a discussion about speech amongst a group of educators or with our students, it is useful to have some terminology we can use to describe a situation where one form of speech might not be appropriate – i.e. where, as a teacher, you might suggest that your student says something in a different way. I find it hard not to say ‘incorrect’ – but I understand why people might object. Do we ever say speech is inaccurate, incorrect, ungrammatical, inappropriate? Is language really that fluid? Do we always have to add the tagline, ‘in this particular context’. Can we not agree that, if we are talking specifically about teaching students to use the prevailing formal speech code, then some structures are ‘correct’ in the context of that code – or is ‘ungrammatical’ better as I’ve seen Oliver suggest? Or is ‘inappropriate’ always the best term?

Let’s use some specifics – avoiding my flippant pet-peeves, which, I readily acknowledge, simply reveal my prejudices and snobberies. I’m also avoiding phrases that might be associated with friends chatting. I’ve never said anything to suggest that we’re trying to mandate how people speak to each other outside a formal speech context. These are all things I’ve heard said in school/classroom context:

We done an experiment.

We was writing a story.

How much people was there?

What was you saying about it?

She done excellent in that performance.

Is nothing in speech ever wrong? Is it never wrong in a school classroom context? Or is it simply inappropriate? Do I, as a teacher, have the right to determine that, in my classroom, we use formal speech codes and set some parameters for appropriateness? Or, does a school – supported by a Headteacher or school policy – have the right to assert that, in all our educational interactions, we use formal speech codes? If so, what do we do and say when students use other codes – or simply make mistakes when trying to use the formal code, assuming we can tell the difference?

If we agree that we want to empower all our students with the ability to use formal speech when they choose to, isn’t it much harder to achieve in practice if we are often inhibited by the need to be sensitive to and give value to linguistic variations at the same time? Isn’t it easier to say that, at school, this is how we all speak? Why? Because, in life, it will empower you and we need to give you as much practice as possible.

This is especially difficult to manage when we have learners of different kinds to cater for:

First language English speakers simply improving their vocabulary and fluency but living in a world dominated by formal spoken English

First language English speakers who routinely use a different code in their home life and peer group associated with their family/social origins

First language English speakers who switch codes routinely between home and school and peer group but predominantly use a local speech code with wide ranging alternative uses of grammar and vocabulary, independent of social background

ESOL/EAL speakers who are new to the country and want to learn formal English or to match the form of language they use in their native language.

2nd generation EAL speakers who predominantly speak in English learned from other EAL speakers in their peer group and at home.

If I’m learning to speak more fluently, simply as a first language speaker, I’d hope my teachers would give me appropriate direction. However, what if they find it hard to challenge my ‘errors’ (if that’s what they are?) but not those of other members in the class where they are not short-term errors but routine parts of their everyday speech? Or is this just down to my parents and off-limits to teachers unless, very literally, I am giving a speech?

If I learn French, I don’t want to learn the equivalent of ‘we done an experiment’ or ‘she done excellent’. I don’t want to be told that is fine – except in a formal context. I want to learn a grammatically accurate form I can use anywhere. This was the point of me citing the David Sedaris story from ‘Me talk pretty some day’ in my blog. ‘He nice, the Jesus‘ is funny. It makes light of the challenge of language learning – it’s good comic material. There’s always a sense that learning a language is aimed at a particular form of it in the main, especially at the early stages. That’s sensible enough isn’t it? If that is right for me learning French, why isn’t it right for an EAL student? For them, isn’t it more helpful if, at all times during the school day, they are being directed towards a certain speech code if they simply want to learn to speak formal English as well as they can?

If my son said something like ‘I’m going shops now, innit’, as his parent, I would challenge him on that. Is that not my responsibility as a parent to guide my child’s speech? Is there a line between ‘teaching to speak’ and ‘teaching to speak well’? Would any of the sociolinguists I’ve angered handle this differently? Is there a line where language becomes slang or falls below a standard that is appropriate even at home? Who decides? And is it right that I have a different set of rules for my children compared to my students – if we share the goal that all of them must conquer the challenge of using formal spoken English with fluency and confidence? I worry a lot that we’re simply fuelling a divide here. Formal language for some but not for all? I’m ok, my kids are ok but you don’t need what we have? To me, that really is patronising and disempowering.

If your answer is but of course we also teach formal language my questions are about the practicalities. It’s quite a subtle message to give consistently that ‘it’s not wrong, it’s just inappropriate’ and I can imagine that slipping quite often even if the intent is there amongst teachers working with the best intentions. Surely that’s less of a problem than saying nothing and accepting any form of speech you hear – even when your instinct is that it’s inappropriate for the context?

My overriding sense is that, given the complexities of teaching a diverse group of students, it is legitimate and pragmatic to assert that, whilst recognising diversity in all manner of ways, we want all students to learn to use formal speech codes and that, therefore, a school needs to focus on it and reinforce it in every in-school context. I accept that calling this ‘speaking properly’ is unhelpful if the wider diversity message isn’t also strong. However, we have to be realistic about the pace of social change. It might be important to challenge the power structures around dominant language codes and to champion greater diversity and confidence with multiple speech codes – but that’s the long game. An academic debate about sociolinguistics and the injustice of language snobbery is no use to a student wrestling with formal English if, as a result of institutionalised awkwardness, they never master it – and meanwhile, the students down the road are walking tall because they can switch codes with ease with all the advantages that brings.

I hope that’s a helpful contribution. More questions than answers.

Empowering speech, challenges on ‘correctness’ and some questions for sociolinguists. published first on http://ift.tt/2uVElOo

0 notes

careergrowthblog · 7 years ago

Text

Empowering speech, challenges on ‘correctness’ and some questions for sociolinguists.

I am keen to understand how we can move forward with this vitally important agenda whilst also taking account of sociolinguistic factors.

I wonder if we could all agree on some things:

Language is constantly changing so any sense of ‘correctness’ could only ever be temporary in a very specific context and, as such, is problematic.

We are never talking about or privileging certain accents: formal speech, however it is defined, can be and is spoken in any accent.

We done an experiment.

We was writing a story.

How much people was there?

What was you saying about it?

She done excellent in that performance.

This is especially difficult to manage when we have learners of different kinds to cater for:

First language English speakers simply improving their vocabulary and fluency but living in a world dominated by formal spoken English

First language English speakers who routinely use a different code in their home life and peer group associated with their family/social origins

ESOL/EAL speakers who are new to the country and want to learn formal English or to match the form of language they use in their native language.

2nd generation EAL speakers who predominantly speak in English learned from other EAL speakers in their peer group and at home.

I hope that’s a helpful contribution. More questions than answers.

Empowering speech, challenges on ‘correctness’ and some questions for sociolinguists. published first on http://ift.tt/2uVElOo

0 notes

careergrowthblog · 7 years ago

Text

Empowering speech, challenges on ‘correctness’ and some questions for sociolinguists.

The context for my original post was working in a very mixed school where the range of speech modes was huge and where the issues of disadvantage and empowerment were evident daily. One example I often think of was hearing a successful academic student with a key leadership role giving a report in assembly after a very special school trip. This was, without question, an occasion for formal speech where a formal speech code would have been appropriate, not least because he was a significant role-model. Though-out his speech he used ‘done’: “We done a trek; we done a trip to the market; we done a presentation”. He was an EAL student having arrived from another country some 10 years before but my instinct was that, since he had been in that school for six years, we should have done a better job in teaching him the formal speech code that would have led him to say ‘we went on a trek; we gave a presentation’ and so on.

My sense is that, without that fluency and self-awareness, this student will be undermined and undeservedly disempowered in the real world where formal speech carries significant value. Is that wrong? It was also my strong feeling that a major reason this student had not yet fully mastered appropriate formal speech was that, throughout his time in the school, teachers has been reluctant to address the issue on a day to day basis for fear of being insensitive or denigrating his default speech mode. I discussed it with him explicitly – because he had interviews to prepare for. He saw it as a failing of his education that he hadn’t been taught to ‘speak well’ – as he put it – even when he wanted to and he was concerned that the habits were now hard to break.

I am keen to understand how we can move forward with this vitally important agenda whilst also taking account of sociolinguistic factors.

I wonder if we could all agree on some things:

Language is constantly changing so any sense of ‘correctness’ could only ever be temporary in a very specific context and, as such, is problematic.

We are never talking about or privileging certain accents: formal speech, however it is defined, can be and is spoken in any accent.

We done an experiment.

We was writing a story.

How much people was there?

What was you saying about it?

She done excellent in that performance.

This is especially difficult to manage when we have learners of different kinds to cater for:

First language English speakers simply improving their vocabulary and fluency but living in a world dominated by formal spoken English

First language English speakers who routinely use a different code in their home life and peer group associated with their family/social origins

ESOL/EAL speakers who are new to the country and want to learn formal English or to match the form of language they use in their native language.

2nd generation EAL speakers who predominantly speak in English learned from other EAL speakers in their peer group and at home.

I hope that’s a helpful contribution. More questions than answers.

Empowering speech, challenges on ‘correctness’ and some questions for sociolinguists. published first on http://ift.tt/2uVElOo

0 notes