Saturday, August 18, 2012

Which switched witch watched which switch watch?

Sometimes, to really understand something that you think you’ve known all your life, you need to look at it from the point of view of another viewpoint.

I am speaking, of course, of tongue twisters.

First of all, do tongue twisters really twist your tongue? I don’t remember my tongue ever accidentally curling into a triple pronged clover, or whatever you call that cool trick, during an attempt to describe where She sells her seashells.

Second of all, let's look at the sentences themselves. After failing to find the equivalent of “tongue twister” in Portuguese, I settled on calling them senseless sentences, because that’s what they really are. Don’t let them fool you. How do you pick a pepper that’s already pickled? Or is Peter Piper not actually in his garden picking peppers, but in the grocery store, picking out which brand he wants? Does he want sweet and sour, or a jar of wickles?

These Sensless Sentences are tricky, too. For almost two decades, I imagined a woodchuck gnawing on wood, seeing how many logs he could get through. Only when I was in front of my class explaining the meaning of the sentence in Portuguese did I realize that “chuck” actually means “throw.” Now the image of the woodchuck, who, until this revelation, looked kind of like a beaver in my mind, has grown muscles and is in a field chucking wood, javelin-style.

We start off every lesson with a senseless sentence. Now, I’m wondering if it would be appropriate to teach my kids this one: I am a mother pheasant plucker, I pluck mother pheasants. I am the best mother pheasant plucker that ever plucked a mother pheasant.







above: my colleague teaches our English club a song and dance

Sunday, August 12, 2012

One and a Two and a Three


The reason I joined the Peace Corps, and maybe even the meaning of life, has made itself clear to me, in the form of 12 simple hand movements and some wiggling in time to a tune.

I have successfully converted approximately 178 Nauelans into Macarena-lovers, only a few thousand to go.  I wish I could bring you images of the spectacle that took place at the school this past Friday, when 10 of my students and I donned ski masks, dresses, and nose glasses to dance our new favorite dance in front of the whole school. But alas, my camera in now in the hands of another owner, a relocation unathorized by me.

If all I leave with my dear adorable 8th graders is the image of their strange, foreign English teacher trying to shake her butt, this mission will not be a failed one.