the dark sides of my desk shifts

 Story one:

She spots me, approaches me, and I'm already confused.

This woman....

Part of my job is to sit at the front desk of our little literacy center, answer the telephone and in-person queries we have, tell them answers IF I even have the answers, and take messages for the coordinators who actually run the programs to get back to the people with questions. I run a completely different program that really has remotely nothing to do with the other programs, and therefore am 79% of the time useless, unless they need copies made.

Not everyone understands this, and sometimes even believe that we mind meld, or are the same people! Or, and I will come out and say it because it's true, they confuse the white girls. There are three of us. We're all tall, slim, and have similarly shades of long brown hair. We probably dress a little the same. I see how it happens, and it is unfortunate when it does, and it is devilishly confusing for all parties involved.

At any rate, Larinah* heads towards me. "The test", she says, "I take it".

"Which test?" I ask. "ESL? GED?" (I am able to administer the GED Official Practice Test (OPT), but know nothing about adult basic education or ESL testing.)

"The test, I take."

"Which test?" I ask. "ESL? GED?"

"test", she says.

"Which test?" I ask, again.

This exchange will go on forever. She lacks the knowledge that we run many programs with many tests, and lacks the language skills to communicate anything else.

I am finally rescued by a coworker who knows what Larinah needs. Thank heavens. She gives Larinah the test (ESL!), and leaves for the day.

.....


She comes to the front desk. Again.

"You will be here, at 7?"
 
"It is 7", I say. 

"I coming back... here... at 7. You be here?"

"It is 7:00 now", I say. 

"...yes?" I eventually say.


 
.......

She returns at 7:15p.m.

Our ideas of time are as different as our ideas of what my job actually is. 

I was in the office, setting up a laptop for someone, while another coworker came to her/my rescue.

She thought that I would grade her ESL test in those few minutes that she was gone. I don't know why.

He explained to her that the ESL Coordinator grades the test, and she has to come back next week for the results...

 but I know she'll be back, with more confusing statements and half questions.



 Story two:


"I am here. My name is Viendong*."

He spoke in unintelligible language(s?) while I asked him:

"are you here for ESL?" "do you know your teacher's name?" "did you register for classes?"

"My name is Viendong."

Enter a Vietnamese language speaker, a friend of Viendong's. A rapid exchange, and finally a translation.

During the translation exchange, a Spanish speaker entered the builidng, and rapid fired a question at me in Spanish. I know this question, and its answer, and answer it successfully, and forget to celebrate that achievement as I am puzzled by Viendong and his friends.

Friends with an "s" because there is another man with them.  

I find out which class they are there for, and that only 2 out of the three of them have registered for classes. We have a policy that students must register for this exact reason, students will start bringing their friends and family.

The third man can't go into the class. If we make an exception once, more will come, and we will have overcrowded classrooms and not enough teachers.

"He can't go home" they tell me. "He came with us." And I understand, and it makes me so sad.

So he has to sit on the couch in the large room, beside a science class that is going on.

I email for a bit, then think about what I could do. I have no idea what level he is at, and can't start teaching him English, because he may come back, and I have the desk to cover for the night.


A small Vietnamese man now sits in the office, trying to figure out how to operate the computer, and Mango languages, a computer based language program... He says a few words in his tongue occasionally. I can't tell whether he's frustrated or happy... It's about as useful as a circle band-aid for a laceration that needs stitches, but it is the only thing I can do for now.


And later, I hear more activity in there. He's swinging around on the swivel chair, just like I do, mastering how to work the mouse and the program...











*name changed

Quasi-ESL: Texas Style

In November I drove a long way, from the Appalachians of central Pennsylvania to the proverbial heart of Texas. I am probably a little too proud to have made it from Canton, Ohio to Waco, Texas without, yes, WITHOUT a GPS!

Within my memory, I had never been further south than Maysville, KY, (with the exception of traveling the entire length of the Eastern Seabaord).

I gasped at the beauty of crossing the Mississippi at sunset, the fabled Big Muddy Laura Ingalls had told me about since my childhood. Over 100 years later, my crossing was slightly faster and quite a bit less dangerous than hers. I screamed in horror at the sight of my first  "foreign" roadkill--an armadillo. A similar sound escaped me when I drove past a "sleeping" puppy looking creature, the coyote. Later I pretended to be a cowboy, chasing a train as our routes--its tracks and my highway held parallel for awhile, Johnny Cash in the background. I discovered my newest dislike: Texas driving, and my newest favourite food tie: a fierce battle between Texas toast and authentic Tex-Mex. I fought with the frustration of not knowing where the nearest Target was, or which grocery stores to go to. I was homeless for 2 weeks. I lived out of my car, and slept on people's floors and the occasional couch.

Now, almost 3 or 4 months later...

Some improvements I've made: cooking. I can proudly say I'm a better cook than I was when I left Pennsylvania. With only 2 other roommates, there is enough room in the fridge and pantry for more food, and more experimentation, with fabulous results most of the time!

Another improvement is stretching my people skills. My supply of energy reserved for working with and meeting new people is being expanded all the time.


....


Things I can't do: give someone a ride to the gas station to fill up a makeshift can of gas.


And the look of the overweight father's eyes when I told him how far away the closest gas station was terrible. His two young daughters were with him, and their car had ran out of gas beside my workplace. They slowly trudged off with my post-it note directions, and I didn't see them again.