I give private English classes throughout the week in people's homes, and I've got ten students. My youngest is eight years old and the oldest is in her 40s. For the most part, I adore my students and I'm pretty sure I learn just as much from them as they learn from me (I know - cliché alert! Only it's actually true. I teach them verbs, they teach me all sorts of cultural gems like how to properly slice a leg of jamón.)
There is one exception, however. A coddled (I mean it, they literally have a servant in their house) eleven-year-old who hates English and spits fire. She sulks, she pouts, she wants to hang with her friends or look up puppy pictures online or do anything except study English with me. I've tried the sweet tactic and the veiled threats and pouting right back. She won't have any of it. She is unmoved. She does not want to study English and that's that.
Finally, I hit on an idea. She's always telling me how smart she is (she's a real gem), so one day I brought her an English book that's two years above her grade level. "You're smart," I told her, "so let's hit it. Enough with this baby stuff." It's the only thing I have ever said that has actually impressed her.
Anyway, since then she's been pretty docile - for her, anyway - and actually smiling at me occasionally. I thought we were making real progress. And then, the other day we were playing a game out of the English book that called for gamepieces, which I had forgotten. She darted into the other room to get what she assured me were perfect gamepieces.
She came back with these. Can you guess which one she designated as me and which one is her?
Guess I have a ways to go after all.
Too funny!
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