Snail's Pace

Here's something I love about writing. The care that's taken with the choice of words that become clauses that become phrases that become sentences that become paragraphs that become scenes that become sections that become stories. Everything is crafted.

Here' something I love about ESL. The care that's taken with words here, too. You have to go slower--not a lot, but a little bit. It may take an extra thirty seconds to explain (or act out, or round up props) the concept of the California Aquaduct. You do not rush through and not care if anything you're trying to teach is getting through.

It's good to go slow. My very good friend feels that it's taking significant time to finish her doctoral dissertation. Bryan and I took six months to find the perfect dog. And then we took twenty-six years to find each other.

Synonyms

I feel taken. I now have independent confirmation from two native Spanish speakers that "escritorio" doesn't really mean desk. This is a basic word we learned in chapter one. Grrr. I wonder if the people who write language textbooks and include obscure synonyms giggle each night when they go to bed.

Beetlings

These little beet seedlings popped out today--blurry-eyed but ready to take on the San Diego enclave of this harsh world we live in.

"Enrique's Journey" by Sonia Nazario

Forgive me if this blog entry runs a bit long. This book hit me like a Mack truck.

I picked it up in part because it was featured in the "One Book, One San Diego" library program, and in part because its story begins in Honduras--a place I have a plane ticket to.

I came away from the book:

A) Convinced that illegal immigration is bad for all involved parties, which includes:

-The immigrants

-Their families

-Their home countries

-The countries they pass through

-The United States

B) Completely pessimistic about humanity.

Actually, there is one group that does profit from illegal immigration: Americans who (cheaply) hire them to raise their kids, work as cheap labor, and tend their yards.

This is the true story of a Honduran boy who comes to America to find his mother, who left him 10 years previous because she was literally unable to feed him and his sister. She sends back money and toys from America, but it is not enough to make an appreciable difference in their lives, and anyway they resent that she left them.

Enrique makes seven unsuccessful attempts to come to America before making it through. Along the way (riding the tops of Mexican trains) he is beaten and robbed, endures extreme temperatures, struggles to find food and clothing, and is treated like an animal.

I don't want to give a play-by-play of what happens, but suffice to say this is not a happy, mother-son reunion story. Enrique finds his mother, but he feels that she abandoned her, and she feels that he is ungrateful. Everything is complicated by Enrique's girlfriend back home (and the baby he's never met), and I came to think that dividing families like this is just not good.

The ultimate solution is that the poor need to, somehow, be enabled with opportunities so they don't have to leave their countries. But hell if I know how to do it. Honduras, which was just starting to shed its Banana Republic moniker, may very well be about to collapse.

Anyhow, you should really read this book. Even if it will bum you out.

Fourth

To this blogger, the fourth day in the month of July means two things: patriotism and the Tour de France.

In celebration of our country's independence and the freedoms it affords its citizens, Bryan and I did whatever we wanted at a lazy pace, which included breakfast with the Tour.

It's stage 1 and already I am sick of the four commercials that run at each break. Especially the Nature Valley hiking chick. Can someone please submit here, so I don't have to watch this woman masticate in a faux philosophical way for three more weeks?

I haven't yet seen any of the shoe-string budget ad from the local bike shops, but am hoping they start running tomorrow.

Tails Between Their Legs

This is funny.

It would be funnier if the budget situation weren't so serious.

It Rolls off the Tongue

My TESOL class observations have started back up. I was previously sitting in on an advanced class, but this time decided to see what one filled with beginners is like.

Last night, the takeaway was an emphasis on pronunciation: there is a big difference between tequila and vanilla. And it also changes a lot if someone has nine children, or none children.

Tonight's class included everybody's favorite false cognate, "embarazada," which does not translate from Spanish to English as "embarrassed," as one might guess, but "pregnant."