One of the things I like to have the students do is look up images of words they will hear in the movie. We are watching Jacob the Liar, which is set in a WW2 Polish ghetto. They looked up images of concentration camps, ghettos, star of David, swastika, tanks, Hitler etc. I have them email me the images so I can put them together for review.

Here’s one of the images of Hitler:

"Hello Hitler" to be precise. HA!

I am working in a program called "Focal Skills." They (they who made up the program probably) say that students learn up to 35% faster in this type of program than in the more popular types of programs such as Intigrated Skills or some such.

So I've spent the last month working in the beginning level of the Focal Skills program, Listening. How do you teach someone to listen? You may be asking. Well, you're asking, I'm asking- it's a darn good question. The main method is to give the students what is affectionately known in the TESOL community as i+1 communication.

It goes like this. I pop in a movie. We watch a few seconds of the movie. I hit pause. I ask a bunch of yes/no or short answer questions. Things that are pretty obvious. “Does the boy have a flashlight?” Well, it’s obvious to you and me, but if you don’t know what a flashlight is, it is certainly less obvious. They say yes or no, or they look at me blankly. I point to the screen, “Flashlight.” I pretend there is one in my hand, I look for something in the pretend dark. I write flashlight on the board. I summarize the scene we just watched. “The boy is looking for something. It’s dark. There’s a storm outside. There’s no electricity.” I point, I act, I make sound effects. Big fun. I turn the movie back on and go through the whole thing again after about a minute.

That is i+1. “i" is what the student can understand already. They know “dark” and they know “storm.” I give them +1 “flashlight” and “electricity.” I give it to them so it’s not so hard to be discouraging, but not too easy to be boring (I hope.) I help them understand the dialogue in the movie by making it simpler and pointing specific things out.

I’ve done three movies this month. 1. Groundhog Day- that was my “this is how you do it” one. I got help from another teacher. 2. National Treasure- that was my practice one and 3. Jacob the Liar- that is my second practice one. I will continue to have practice ones until I decide to do one for a second time.

Students: they do say some pretty funny things.

The other day in class:
Me: Does anyone know what “disgusting” means?
Student1: I know, it is a small dog, long.
Me: Ummm – (what the . . . ) No.
Student2: No, she is thinking dachshund. Disgusting is . . .

Me: She just called my dog disgusting! humpt!

Louie goes for the ears

Louie and Buzz

Louie goes for the camera

Louie the Yorkie

Buzz and his LOVER

I was going to Wal-Mart Tuesday. I needed a new skillet. I thought about asking to take my friend’s car, but then I thought, “Why would I? My car is fine.” I took my car. It’s funny how each little decision can change your personal history.

I went to Wal-Mart. When I got inside, I realized that the lotion that I bought a few days before, which I wanted to return, was still in my car. I thought about going back out to get it before I started shopping. I decided it was too hot to go back outside. I thought “I’ll bring it in when I take this stuff out.”

I bought the things I needed, and looked around at things I didn’t need. A trip to Wal-Mart is hardly ever just in and out. When I went back to the car I put my new purchases in the back. I saw the lotion I wanted to return there, and some bags that I wanted to recycle. I thought about taking them in, but I decided that I would certainly be back to Wal-Mart soon. I’d do it later.

I wonder if I had taken my friend’s car if things would have been somehow different.
If I had taken the lotion in and returned it, and recycled those bags, would those few minutes have changed what happened on the way home?

Maybe not.

On the way home I was driving down Abram Road. My light was green. I saw a car coming toward the intersection. It looked like it wasn’t going to stop. Too late I realized it was in fact not going to stop. I slammed on my breaks. She saw me. She swerved.

Accidents happen in slow motion.

My front passenger side hit her front driver side. The speed limit is 35. It wasn’t a hard impact.
In both cars the majority of the damage was that the fenders were bent down and rubbing the wheels.

She was a young woman. “It’s not my car! It’s not my car! I don’t know what to do!”

I tend to be very calm in these situations. Some people think it’s because I’m in shock. I think it is just how God programmed me. Some people react calmly to minor emergency. Some people react calmly to bigger crises.

My dorm room flooded once in college. I freaked out for about five minutes. Then I realized I could shut off the water myself. Three inches of water on the floor later, crisis averted.

When something life threatening happens around me, I understand the seriousness of it, but the fact that I have avoided the danger makes me immediately happy. I want to laugh. “I made it!” “Thank you Jesus!” Sometimes I do laugh. This makes people think that I must be in shock. I may be, but I don’t think so. Usually after something very serious happens I like to play a game of chance. Just to see if I’m still lucky after the event; the lottery- or some such game. I never win, but I’m not sad. At least I’m alive to play.

She didn’t know what to do. I said, “We should move the cars out of the intersection and exchange insurance information.”
She said, “I don’t know what to do, it’s not my car.”
I said, “Do you want to call the police?”
She said, “It’s not my car!”
I said, “Go ahead and call them if you think that’s best.”
She called them. They told her to move her car out of the intersection.
I moved mine too.
They came, bent our fenders away from the wheels. They made sure we exchanged information, asked us if we were alright.
They didn’t ask what happened- they didn’t care. No questions, no reports.

She says her light was green. Well, of course- it wasn’t her car.

Now my car has this scrunched up expression.
It has this sheepish half smile.

D says it looks like it has some sort of palsy.
My car is handicapped.

We are waiting to hear back what the insurance companies decide. I don’t have comprehensive, so I’ll probably end up paying for mine.

I’ve already starting obsessing about a Z just like mine on E-bay. The bidding started at $500. It doesn’t run- but I just need it’s parts. I hope nobody bids on it! It should be mine!

I went to a ballet a few weeks ago. I intended to write about it directly afterwards, but well, I’m a slacker.

The Metropolitan Classical Ballet (of Arlington) presented two world premieres for the season finale. “Jeux” and “Joaquin Murieta.” “Jeux” or “Games” en francais was what I expected from the ballet- slightly abstract, interpretive and let’s face it- a pointless story.

“Jeux” from what I understand: There was a blonde tennis player flitting around on her toes hitting imaginary balls when a man in tiny white shorts came out to “play” with her. They ran around for a while, he chased her. Of course he caught her because he had the unfair advantage of actually using his whole foot while she had to tip-toe away.

Once he caught her, a brunette tennis player came out. He was distracted. She ran around looking cute on her toes. He chased her. She tip-toed away. Then he chased the blonde- she let him catch her- the brunette looked jealous- the blonde looked as smug as one can look while standing on her tippy-toes. The brunette enticed him with her obscenely long legs. He dropped the blonde and ran for the brunette . . . it went on like this for a while. In the end- I’m not sure what happened. I think I blocked it out.

If I had written it, however, the women would have both picked up their tennis rackets and beaten him severely with them and then tip-toed off stage prettily leaving him and his balls to play games by themselves.

“Joaquin Murieta,” on the other hand, what like no ballet I have ever imagined. It was one of the most bizzar spectacles I’ve ever paid to see.

The story was easy enough to follow. There was a young man (Joaquin) who lived in Chili. He wanted to make some money (to get married, or to provide for his new wife? I’m not sure, but it surely was something about the woman.) So when he heard about the California gold rush, he went for it. When he got there, things went oh-so-wrong. The California cowboys didn’t like how successful Joaquin was, so they took his lady and gang-banged her. She couldn’t stand the idea that there was a rape baby inside her, so she killed herself.

Joaquin, of course had to confront the evil cowboys. Let me point out at this time that the cowboys where in full dress, hats, jeans, flannel, vests, chaps etc. Joaquin, however was wearing a flouncy shirt and tights. It’s dang hard to look tough in a flouncy shirt and tights, especially when your enemies are wearing jeans and flannel.

In the end Joaquin dies. Quite dramatically- death comes and seduces him in a totally creepy and disturbing way. That is by far NOT the most disturbing thing about this ballet. Here are some other disturbing details, and a short description of quite possibly the MOST disturbing scene in ballet history.

1. As I said, it was a ballet, but for some reason the music was all 70s Rock Opera style. I kept expecting the “Jesus Christ Superstar” disciples to pirouette on stage snapping their fingers and singing “What’s the buzz, tell me what’s happenin’? What’s the buzz, tell me what’s happenin’?” and “When do we ride into Jerusalem? When do we ride into Jerusalem?”

2. The ballet was set in Chili and moves to California. I would have made sense to me if it had been in Spanish- cause it was set in Chili- or English cause it was also set in California (besides the fact it was world premiering in Texas.) But instead, as it would make sense to ballet fans (perhaps) it as all in Russian. It wasn’t just that the words were Russian, but the Chilean folk dances looked strangely Russian to me . . . and the music . . . like a Russian disco- or so I would imagine a Russian disco. I understood what was being said because there were “superscripts” above the stage. But I get the feeling all the superscripts were translated and typed up by a Russian- one who couldn’t spell in English.

3. There was one entire scene about a shooting star. She had an iridescent-glow-in-the-dark costume. It would have been okay if she had danced as he shooting star, but instead she was carried around by a troupe of male dancers (what do you call a male ballet dancer? a ballet-er?) all dressed in black, even over their faces so that they would blend into the back drop. It was all fine except for their very white hands showing up so cleverly under the black light. The hands were distracting me and the hand offs where much more awkward than it would have been if they had just let her dance for herself.

4. Finally, the gang banging scene- voted by me MOST disturbing of all things ballet. I knew it was coming when those bad cowboys busted in on her. It could have easily been implied and not dramatized at all- but they went ahead with it instead. There were five cowboys. They chased her, and caught her, because once again, they could run on their feet, while she had to escape on her toes. The picked her up, one on each arm and leg, one cowboy laid down and the other four thrust her up and down on him like she was no more than a bed sheet. She was just flying around like she didn’t have any bones at all. One would finish and take the other one’s place at the arm or leg so the next cowboy could get his turn underneath. It was not nice. In this case ballet is not always pretty.

Afterward we went to talk to one of the dancers. She did not hide her opinion that the owners of the company had chosen the worst ballet they could find to end the season hoping that the turn out would be so bad that the investors would get their money back. She didn’t care, she had found a new job with a different company.