Can you read this?

Can you read this? 

Babushka (I think)

I hope so. I hope that someone took the time to teach you how to read, write, speak and understand English (assuming you're in a predominantly English-speaking country). 

I spent this morning at a local church, helping teach ESL (English as a Second Language) classes. I taught people who can't understand the dominant language of the country in which they live. Can you imagine moving to a place where everyone speaks a different language than you, where you couldn't even ask for help in the most basic way? My friend and student worker, Abby, and I talked about what it would be like to move to Russia. We discovered that we know exactly five words: da, Babushka, vodka, czar and niet. And I probably spelled all of those wrong. So basically I could (in very broken Russian) get drunk with a dictator-like grandma. [Or at least I think that's what those words mean.] So you can see how crucial a class like ESL can be to someone in that exact same boat.

But this class taught me something, too. 

I learned that English is a strange and illogical language...Teach:taught, reach:reached? Who decided on that? And why are some letters silent when put with other letters, but not all the time? One of our vocabulary words was knife. The woman who had that flashcard nailed it, but I'm sure it wasn't her first time seeing that one. And how do you explain the difference in the th sound in this and the th sound in Meredith? Neither of those sounds exist in Spanish - which is the native language of everyone in my group.

My new - and extremely brave - friend, Jessica, told me about this class that is put on through the Bryan Public Library. She leads a group, but was unable to make it today because of conflicts at work, so she shoved me in the deep end let me take over her group. Being the wuss that I am, I brought my security blanket Abby along.

From 10-noon each Saturday, about 12 groups of students - separated by proficiency level - meet in a small auditorium. Today we started off as a large group singing and doing hand motions to "If You're Happy and You Know It" and "This Little Light of Mine". It seems silly, but that's exactly how I began learning Spanish. At first I just belted out random sounds from the privacy of my own car, and eventually I would be able to pick out words and phrases that I had learned in my Spanish class.

Luckily, a very nice woman named Meg let us (Abby and I) bring our group to join hers. Both of our groups were at the beginner level. Meg had planned a great lesson full of activities. We took statemements containing the "to be" verb and rearranged the words to turn them into questions. I was grateful to know some Spanish and to be able to translate where needed, until I remembered that in Spanish, a question and statement are the same sentence, just with different punctuation. [For example, in English: You are hungry./Are you hungry?; in Spanish: Tienes hambre./Tienes hambre?]

Needless to say, it was a difficult yet rewarding two hours. I was helping someone understand the world around them. I only hope that these students feel like they're getting somewhere on their way to truly understanding and being able to read/write English.

Learning another language is one of the accomplishments I'm the most proud of, and I was fortunate enough to dedicate eight years of formal education to it. And I am thrilled to be able to return the favor, even in a small way. 

The most rewarding part of the day was at the end when one of the men from the group came up to us and asked if there were more classes available. He said two hours, once a week, wasn't enough for him. [I agree. Five days per week was barely enough for me to learn Spanish...and that was with trained educators.] I promised him that I would contact the Bryan Library and see if we can add another class a couple of nights per week. 

I'm so excited to start paying it forward and to actually be able to use my Spanish. And I'm so thankful for all of my past Spanish teachers, for the incredible gift they've given me

Muchisisisímas gracias.

The Five People You Meet in [Thomas Park]

Like I said in my first post, I used to be a lifeguard. Since I never had to actually save a human life, lifeguarding meant that I got really good at observing people from behind my cheap sunglasses. Sometimes I made up stories about what their lives were like, and sometimes they told me about their lives firsthand got close enough for me to eavesdrop. [Don't worry, Red Cross, I was constantly scanning while spying on these innocent patrons.] 

I still can't figure out why I haven't been approached by the CIA with a very exciting job offer. Instead, I use my observant talents on the fair people of Thomas Park, or the Tom Parkers as I like to call them. 

Thomas Park is a scenic little area - about a mile in circumference - where I like to get some fresh air and exercise. It has everything an American park could need, except for a hotdog vendor and a cotton candy machine. I guess it's more of a European park or something, since it's all fitness-based activities and no junk food stands. TP has a swimming pool, two playground areas, basketball courts, tennis courts, pull-up bars, sidewalks and open fields. And a lot of interesting people. 

Just kidding ... this is Central Park.

These are the five people you'll meet at Thomas Park:

1...The Camp Counselor

The camp counselor can be seen in his or her natural habitat at the park, because the camp counselor thrives in the great outdoors...or the local park if no mountains are near. The camp counselor wears Chacos, Keens, Tivas, Toms, or Vans knock-offs. The male camp counselor likely sports a beard of biblical proportions and is probably sitting in the grass playing Chris Tomlin songs on his guitar. The female camp counselor swings in a woven hammock from a large oak tree, meditating on scripture whilst listening to male camp counselor's guitar playing. Sometimes the pair can be seen playing ultimate Frisbee in an open field.

I don't really fit into this category, but after two summers at a Christian youth camp, I am good friends with lots of these lovable hipsters.

2...The International Family

Since Thomas Park is in a college town, lots of international students partake in its humble splendor. Many of these students are from east Asia, the Middle East and India, and in Thomas Park they travel in adorable little families. Since a lot of the international students are getting their PhDs, and a little older than most college students, the ones that frequent Thomas Park have little kids who love to squeal on the playground equipment and swim at the pool when it's open.

I also don't fit into this category, though a little girl from one of these families once offered me a Cheeto. 

3...The Soccer Aficionado

On any given weeknight, in the largest field TP has to offer, you can find the soccer club. The soccer club is a group of guys in their 20s and 30s who meet at the park to prep for the World Cup. I've never figured out how they know who is on whose team since they are all wearing different pro teams' uniforms. Though none of them match each other, the soccer aficionados are always dressed to the nines. If one of them is wearing a Brasil jersey, he's wearing Brasil's colors on his shorts and socks, too. The soccer club is the also largest supporter of the hair gel aisle at HEB. I've learned that the amount of hair gel on a soccer player is directly related to his talent. The firmer/shinier/flashier the hair, the more goals he's going to score. Similarly, the defenders and goalies don't wear hair gel, because they're the blue-collared boys. 

I'm not part of this group either, but I know most of these guys by sight now. I even know what car some of them drive. [I never said I wasn't a creep.]

4...The True Athlete

The True Athlete can be seen running circuits on the tracks, doing suicide sprints on the basketball courts, and doing lunges across the large field. The True Athlete is also the only Tom Parker who uses the pull-up bars for actual strength exercises, and not just for leaning against while flirting with a prancing coed. The True Athlete's goal is the perfect physique, but he picks up a lot of stares, breaks a lot of hearts, and makes a lot of people suddenly self-aware along the way.

As much as I would love to think that I belong in this category, it just isn't even close to true. I do, however, fantasize about becoming one of these the most.

5...The Average Joe/Jane

The Average Joe or Jane can be a myriad of people. It can be a sorority girl who walks with a friend in a date party t-shirt and then calls it a month on the exercise front. It can be a mom who faithfully pushes a stroller around the track every morning. It can be the man who walks with a full cup of coffee in one hand and the leashes of five different dogs in the other. It can be the unicyclist in the bucket hat. It can be the woman who dreams of training for a half marathon, but is going to go for a 5K for now. It can be the awkwardly unathletic guy who plays pickup basketball with his flip flop-wearing friends. Or it can be a girl in her 20s who listens to oldies, reggaeton, Destiny's Child and Christmas music while silently judging everyone around her during her cardio routine. 

In case you didn't catch it, I'm part of this group. Namely, the last person listed. Consider yourself warned: I'm like the one-man neighborhood watch at Thomas Park.

Which one are you??

Weekend Wonderings

I have a lot of internal conversation with myself, and I almost never know the answers to my questions. So I'm going to ask them here. Maybe y'all can tell me the answers. 

                                                              Who decided to invent mascara?
I'm not complaining. My eyelashes are whiter than Doris Day in south Detroit. Without mascara I look like I've contracted the flu AND mono at the same time. But who thought it was a good idea to pick up a can of black shoe polish and brush it on their eyelashes? What was the thought process there? "This stuff will either blind me for life, or look really good until I start crying. I'll try it!"

Why do people give side-hugs?

I'm definitely complaining here. A hug is meant to show someone your love for them, not to make them feel like maybe they forgot to put deodorant on that morning. Any time someone gives me a side hug, visions of limp handshakes and Josh Duggar's proposal flash through my mind. If you side-hug me, I will turn you around and make you do it right.  And if you side-hug me after proposing, I will give the ring back.


What does a bearcat sound like?
A&M is playing the Sam Houston State Bearkats tomorrow and I realized earlier this week that I have no idea what a bearc/kat sounds like. Technically, there is no such thing as a bearKat, so they can sound like whatever they want to sound like. But a bearCat is a real animal. The little guy on the left is kind of cute, so he probably sounds like me squealing and trying to tickle his belly.