"My donkey had a flat tire."
The title of this entry is a quote from Felipe, a student in my night class who always has a clever excuse for showing up late. The class is full of people who are either creative or intelligent or both, so his sense of humor definitely does not go unappreciated. It was put to even better use during a group presentation, in which he worked with the class's two Iranian students. He described them as cooks at his restaurant and played for time while explaining why their business model made it impossible for them to open the restaurant. He then allowed his fellow group members to talk about their signature dishes before explaining that the restaurant was open from 11 a.m. to 11 p.m. each day, kept its hours posted out front, and gave a 20% discount for brunch.
Naturally, when it came time for follow-up questions, I asked Felipe what the restaurant's brunch hours were. He replied "9:30 to 11:30," and the class exploded into laughter when I said "Just a second...doesn't your restaurant open at 11:00?" Considering that he told a classmate she couldn't get her food to go because the restaurant didn't exist, it may be safe to assume that his business model is based on keeping the customers guessing.
Thankfully, one of the Iranian students was able to help me make sense of it all. "Actually, he's lying," he explained. "We own a food truck, and he's the driver. Our hours are posted on the side." At least we know that if plans for the restaurant never come to fruition, we'll be able to blame it on creative differences.
Last week was a very productive one, and marked the end of my morning classes for the spring semester. Almost all of the students who came to class regularly managed to pass, though some only did so by the skin of their teeth. I was sad to bid farewell to my Level 2 class on Wednesday, which is full of active learners who had a knack for asking and discussing the right kinds of questions, but they treated me to lunch at Tostada Regia, where I ordered some delicious chicken enchiladas that were swimming in melted cheese and washed them down with a glass of Jamaica. Naturally, pictures were taken as well. My Level 1 class met for the last time the day after, and brought a bevy of delectable dishes for our end-of-semester potluck. We took some pictures of our own (including a couple of the whole class), but since I know I'll be seeing at least one or two of the students from this class over the summer, saying goodbye to them wasn't quite as hard.
Since a dear friend to whom I normally relish talking on weekends was otherwise occupied, I spent most of Friday, Saturday, and Sunday reading, obsessively editing wiki articles, taking care of things at work and at home, and making a rare foray out of the house to socialize on Saturday night. My destination was Bowlmor Lanes, where I met up with my former student Nicole, her fiancé, another couple who were expecting a child soon, and Brittany (who had to leave before we even started bowling). We played two games, the second of which was surprisingly close in spite of the trouble the heavily-pregnant Chelsi had throwing a bowling ball. No one else bowled like a champion, and I never came in last and enjoyed meeting some interesting new people, so I'd have to say it was a good evening. Next time, however, I may want to lay off the liquid courage while bowling - I'm not sure if it was more of a help or a hindrance.
As of today, I have three days left of my night class (two of which are only necessary to make up for the days when it rained too heavily for the college to stay open), and then a one-week break before summer classes begin. All of my classes are at Northline, so I won't have to put a bunch of extra miles on my car or drive all over Houston at various points in the day, and I might actually be able to have a social life in the evenings. Unfortunately, I simply won't have time to teach Level 3 classes over the summer, but the program director sent me an e-mail suggesting that she might be able to turn my temporary full-time position into a permanent full-time position, so it may work to my advantage to keep up my sterling performance as an instructor of Level 1 and 2 classes. (That's candor, not arrogance, thank you.) As per usual, I'm keeping my eyes and mind open and continuing to do what I can, when I can.
In light of the current political climate and the knowledge that 99% of the people who will read my journal feel the same way I do, I'm loath to use this space to talk about Donald Trump and my immense distaste for both his campaign and his legions of sycophantic supporters. All the same, I encourage people to read this article and carefully consider how much is at stake come November.
Naturally, when it came time for follow-up questions, I asked Felipe what the restaurant's brunch hours were. He replied "9:30 to 11:30," and the class exploded into laughter when I said "Just a second...doesn't your restaurant open at 11:00?" Considering that he told a classmate she couldn't get her food to go because the restaurant didn't exist, it may be safe to assume that his business model is based on keeping the customers guessing.
Thankfully, one of the Iranian students was able to help me make sense of it all. "Actually, he's lying," he explained. "We own a food truck, and he's the driver. Our hours are posted on the side." At least we know that if plans for the restaurant never come to fruition, we'll be able to blame it on creative differences.
Last week was a very productive one, and marked the end of my morning classes for the spring semester. Almost all of the students who came to class regularly managed to pass, though some only did so by the skin of their teeth. I was sad to bid farewell to my Level 2 class on Wednesday, which is full of active learners who had a knack for asking and discussing the right kinds of questions, but they treated me to lunch at Tostada Regia, where I ordered some delicious chicken enchiladas that were swimming in melted cheese and washed them down with a glass of Jamaica. Naturally, pictures were taken as well. My Level 1 class met for the last time the day after, and brought a bevy of delectable dishes for our end-of-semester potluck. We took some pictures of our own (including a couple of the whole class), but since I know I'll be seeing at least one or two of the students from this class over the summer, saying goodbye to them wasn't quite as hard.
Since a dear friend to whom I normally relish talking on weekends was otherwise occupied, I spent most of Friday, Saturday, and Sunday reading, obsessively editing wiki articles, taking care of things at work and at home, and making a rare foray out of the house to socialize on Saturday night. My destination was Bowlmor Lanes, where I met up with my former student Nicole, her fiancé, another couple who were expecting a child soon, and Brittany (who had to leave before we even started bowling). We played two games, the second of which was surprisingly close in spite of the trouble the heavily-pregnant Chelsi had throwing a bowling ball. No one else bowled like a champion, and I never came in last and enjoyed meeting some interesting new people, so I'd have to say it was a good evening. Next time, however, I may want to lay off the liquid courage while bowling - I'm not sure if it was more of a help or a hindrance.
As of today, I have three days left of my night class (two of which are only necessary to make up for the days when it rained too heavily for the college to stay open), and then a one-week break before summer classes begin. All of my classes are at Northline, so I won't have to put a bunch of extra miles on my car or drive all over Houston at various points in the day, and I might actually be able to have a social life in the evenings. Unfortunately, I simply won't have time to teach Level 3 classes over the summer, but the program director sent me an e-mail suggesting that she might be able to turn my temporary full-time position into a permanent full-time position, so it may work to my advantage to keep up my sterling performance as an instructor of Level 1 and 2 classes. (That's candor, not arrogance, thank you.) As per usual, I'm keeping my eyes and mind open and continuing to do what I can, when I can.
In light of the current political climate and the knowledge that 99% of the people who will read my journal feel the same way I do, I'm loath to use this space to talk about Donald Trump and my immense distaste for both his campaign and his legions of sycophantic supporters. All the same, I encourage people to read this article and carefully consider how much is at stake come November.