Do not make eye contact! Just take out a pencil and pretend to be taking notes. Act like this is the most interesting information you have ever heard. Keep writing. Okay, now just nod your head like you agree. “Who can identify the verb in this sentence?” Mrs. Summers, my 9th grade teacher asked. What the heck is a verb? What if she picks on me? I’m a freshman in high school and I don’t know what a verb is! “Saima, please identify the verb in this sentence,” Mrs. Summers said in her teacher voice.
This was not the first time something like this has happened. Somehow I usually get out of it. When picked on, I just make up an answer. It’s usually those answers that go in circles and doesn’t ever answer the question. I made it to the 9th grade without knowing how to identify parts of the English language. I knew how to use a verb, a noun, or even an adjective, but I could never pinpoint them.
In Louanne Johnson’s book, My Posse Don’t Do Homework, she deals with a student named Danny. He is a very smart student who does not apply himself. He causes a lot of trouble instead of doing his work. Ms. Johnson is a teacher who always wants to help troubled students, especially when she knows they are capable. She somehow motivates Danny to practice his grammar turning him into an honor student. Danny had some support from his teacher. She gave him materials to practice his grammar, while encouraging him to do better.
I never bothered to take action or study more. I just did the worksheets I got in class and passed the tests. The information would just disappear as soon as the tests were over. It was like all the information just spilled out onto the paper. My brain was a one-way street when it came to English grammar. I just couldn’t figure this stuff out.
I entered daycare speaking Urdu. I walked in without even knowing any English. My parents were still learning English, they had no other choice. I have no idea when I picked up the English language, but I could speak it and write. I was given some ESOL assistance up until 3rd grade. It was usually in the beginning of each grade level. Now that I think about it, I know my teachers understood something was not right so they kept referring me. My problem was I kept changing schools, so teachers could not really refer back to my records. I would enter an ESOL classroom and be tested out by a week, being told I did not need the support. They said I knew how to read and write in English. They probably overlooked me because I was born in the states.
Education was very important to my family. It’s the main reason they moved to America. They wanted their children to have the opportunities they were left without. I had no choice but to make A’s and B’s in all my classes. I was learning things my parents could not relate to. When I needed help with homework, my mom would have to call friends from the mosque. She would do whatever it took to help me be successful.
My mother had a hard life, and she wanted things to be different for me. She did not want me to live in a country where women were not respected. Well, they were respected, but with a cultural twist on the definition. She wanted me to make something of myself. I remember my brother struggling through school, but it was not the same when I struggled. There was a ton of tough love.
I remember one night I was doing homework. It must have been around 10pm. It was a math problem that I was stuck on. I went to my mom to ask for help. As she looked at the problem, her mood changed. Sternly, she asked me where my notes were. In the 3rd grade none of the other students took notes, but I knew how to take notes. I had my own notebook with notes about everything. In fear, I showed my mom the notes. “These notes don’t help you solve this problem?” she demanded an answer. “No. I’m stuck, Mom,” I replied. “If these notes don’t help you, then why did you take them? I can’t do anything now! Everyone that can help you is asleep… you’re on your own Saima,” my mother responded in anger. I think she was even ashamed she couldn’t help me. She took her anger out on me. At the time, I was too young to comprehend. All I knew back then was that I needed to get an A on the assignment. The next day, I turned in a worksheet with watermarks from my tears.
Even though my mom supported me throughout my education, she never asked for my report card in high school. She actually had no idea how to read it. It was different from the previous years. In elementary school, there would be a conference where the parents could come in and pick up the report cards. The teacher would usually explain where I was struggling and excelling. In high school, she did not have that kind of support. My mom just trusted me to pass all the courses, because by that time I understood her expectations.
In high school, we were required to take a course in another language. I was at the point where I was over such pointless classes, so I figured I would take a language that would really benefit me. Living in Texas it was obvious I should take Spanish. When I first entered Senorita Bentance’s class I wasn’t sure what to expect. To be honest I was a bit scared. I did not have to learn a second language since daycare.
I took a seat next to a friend and took a look around the colorful and attractive classroom. Then, I noticed the word “verb” on the board. “Oh no not again!” I thought to myself. When the late bell rang, Senora Betance calmly got up from her desk and walked up to the front of the room. She smiled and made eye contact with each of us. “Hola! Me llamo Senora Betance. Como estan?” She looked around at us as if expecting us to speak. Did she expect us to know what she was saying? It sounded like gibberish to me! This must be a joke. At that point I knew this would be another one of those courses I would have to just get through, but I had no one else to blame by myself. After all, I’m the one who chose to Spanish as an elective!
After a few days of being in the class, I realized what a great teacher Senora Betance really was. She would write notes on the board before we got into the classroom. She would use different colors and expected us to copy down everything in the first few minutes of class. She did not like to go over the lesson while students were writing. She was smart. She knew we wouldn’t pay attention if we had to write as she spoke. I could tell she has sat in the desks we have and struggled through a class just like the students in her classroom.
Being in the Spanish class, all the students had become similar to ESOL students. We were learning a new language. Our teacher spoke to us in Spanish and used a lot of gestures and pictures to communicate with us. The first few days she focused many of her lessons around verbs. She wanted to ensure we all understood them. She demonstrated how to conjugate the verbs and the correct way to use them in Spanish. She had us construct sentences with drawings. “Okay so a verb is an action word,” I remember thinking to myself, “I can act this word out.”
This was the first time I truly understood a verb and how to use it. During her class, we learned about nouns, adjectives, and so many other parts of speech. It was like being back in the elementary school. I finally learned to label parts of a sentence. I was learning about subject verb agreement. I was learning about figurative language. I was learning things I should have already known.
If the Spanish lessons were translated into English, a stranger walking into the classroom could have confused us for a lower grade level. Senora Betance used a lot of pictures and a ton of hands on activities. She had us act out the verbs to learn them. She had us label all the nouns around our house and classrooms. She had us speak to each other using our new vocabulary. There was so much practice.
I took all this back to my English class. I seemed to be applying my Spanish skills to my writing and reading. I finally felt motivated to finish learning English. As I was learning a whole new language, I was finally starting to understand parts of speech in the English language. It may sound funny, but finally in the 9th grade a Spanish teacher got through to me. This class was no longer pointless.
I went on to take 2 more years of Spanish. I don’t think I took them for credits or to raise my GPA. I took them to improve my English skills. It was okay to sit in a Spanish class and not know what a pronoun is. No one laughed and the teacher didn’t ridicule me. She simply would understand the struggle. “In English, a pronoun specific noun, remember?” Senora Betance would simply say. Automatically I would be able to identify whatever was being asked for.
If it wasn’t for Spanish, I would be a college student who wouldn’t know what a verb is, or even a noun, or adjective. Just because I spoke English like everyone around me, did not mean I understood it like my classmates. It was an embarrassing struggle for me, but once I took a step backwards, it all came together. When my Spanish class taught me the English language from scratch, I learned skills I would have to apply for the rest of my educational life.
I applied Spanish to my life. We got a business in an area with a large Hispanic population. My Spanish skills helped our business succeed and grow. Not only did it help me grow as a learner but it gave me a chance to help out my mom. My Spanish skills helped me improve my language skills. I learned to write sentences using plenty of nouns, adjectives, and nouns. No longer did I act like I was taking notes during grammar lessons, instead I made eye contact with confidence with my teachers.
Do not make eye contact! Just take out a pencil and pretend to be taking notes. Act like this is the most interesting information you have ever heard. Keep writing. Okay, now just nod your head like you agree. “Who can identify the verb in this sentence?” Mrs. Summers, my 9th grade teacher asked. What the heck is a verb? What if she picks on me? I’m a freshman in high school and I don’t know what a verb is! “Saima, please identify the verb in this sentence,” Mrs. Summers said in her teacher voice.
This was not the first time something like this has happened. Somehow I usually get out of it. When picked on, I just make up an answer. It’s usually those answers that go in circles and doesn’t ever answer the question. I made it to the 9th grade without knowing how to identify parts of the English language. I knew how to use a verb, a noun, or even an adjective, but I could never pinpoint them.
In Louanne Johnson’s book, My Posse Don’t Do Homework, she deals with a student named Danny. He is a very smart student who does not apply himself. He causes a lot of trouble instead of doing his work. Ms. Johnson is a teacher who always wants to help troubled students, especially when she knows they are capable. She somehow motivates Danny to practice his grammar turning him into an honor student. Danny had some support from his teacher. She gave him materials to practice his grammar, while encouraging him to do better.
I never bothered to take action or study more. I just did the worksheets I got in class and passed the tests. The information would just disappear as soon as the tests were over. It was like all the information just spilled out onto the paper. My brain was a one-way street when it came to English grammar. I just couldn’t figure this stuff out.
I entered daycare speaking Urdu. I walked in without even knowing any English. My parents were still learning English, they had no other choice. I have no idea when I picked up the English language, but I could speak it and write. I was given some ESOL assistance up until 3rd grade. It was usually in the beginning of each grade level. Now that I think about it, I know my teachers understood something was not right so they kept referring me. My problem was I kept changing schools, so teachers could not really refer back to my records. I would enter an ESOL classroom and be tested out by a week, being told I did not need the support. They said I knew how to read and write in English. They probably overlooked me because I was born in the states.
Education was very important to my family. It’s the main reason they moved to America. They wanted their children to have the opportunities they were left without. I had no choice but to make A’s and B’s in all my classes. I was learning things my parents could not relate to. When I needed help with homework, my mom would have to call friends from the mosque. She would do whatever it took to help me be successful.
My mother had a hard life, and she wanted things to be different for me. She did not want me to live in a country where women were not respected. Well, they were respected, but with a cultural twist on the definition. She wanted me to make something of myself. I remember my brother struggling through school, but it was not the same when I struggled. There was a ton of tough love.
I remember one night I was doing homework. It must have been around 10pm. It was a math problem that I was stuck on. I went to my mom to ask for help. As she looked at the problem, her mood changed. Sternly, she asked me where my notes were. In the 3rd grade none of the other students took notes, but I knew how to take notes. I had my own notebook with notes about everything. In fear, I showed my mom the notes. “These notes don’t help you solve this problem?” she demanded an answer. “No. I’m stuck, Mom,” I replied. “If these notes don’t help you, then why did you take them? I can’t do anything now! Everyone that can help you is asleep… you’re on your own Saima,” my mother responded in anger. I think she was even ashamed she couldn’t help me. She took her anger out on me. At the time, I was too young to comprehend. All I knew back then was that I needed to get an A on the assignment. The next day, I turned in a worksheet with watermarks from my tears.
Even though my mom supported me throughout my education, she never asked for my report card in high school. She actually had no idea how to read it. It was different from the previous years. In elementary school, there would be a conference where the parents could come in and pick up the report cards. The teacher would usually explain where I was struggling and excelling. In high school, she did not have that kind of support. My mom just trusted me to pass all the courses, because by that time I understood her expectations.
In high school, we were required to take a course in another language. I was at the point where I was over such pointless classes, so I figured I would take a language that would really benefit me. Living in Texas it was obvious I should take Spanish. When I first entered Senorita Bentance’s class I wasn’t sure what to expect. To be honest I was a bit scared. I did not have to learn a second language since daycare.
I took a seat next to a friend and took a look around the colorful and attractive classroom. Then, I noticed the word “verb” on the board. “Oh no not again!” I thought to myself. When the late bell rang, Senora Betance calmly got up from her desk and walked up to the front of the room. She smiled and made eye contact with each of us. “Hola! Me llamo Senora Betance. Como estan?” She looked around at us as if expecting us to speak. Did she expect us to know what she was saying? It sounded like gibberish to me! This must be a joke. At that point I knew this would be another one of those courses I would have to just get through, but I had no one else to blame by myself. After all, I’m the one who chose to Spanish as an elective!
After a few days of being in the class, I realized what a great teacher Senora Betance really was. She would write notes on the board before we got into the classroom. She would use different colors and expected us to copy down everything in the first few minutes of class. She did not like to go over the lesson while students were writing. She was smart. She knew we wouldn’t pay attention if we had to write as she spoke. I could tell she has sat in the desks we have and struggled through a class just like the students in her classroom.
Being in the Spanish class, all the students had become similar to ESOL students. We were learning a new language. Our teacher spoke to us in Spanish and used a lot of gestures and pictures to communicate with us. The first few days she focused many of her lessons around verbs. She wanted to ensure we all understood them. She demonstrated how to conjugate the verbs and the correct way to use them in Spanish. She had us construct sentences with drawings. “Okay so a verb is an action word,” I remember thinking to myself, “I can act this word out.”
This was the first time I truly understood a verb and how to use it. During her class, we learned about nouns, adjectives, and so many other parts of speech. It was like being back in the elementary school. I finally learned to label parts of a sentence. I was learning about subject verb agreement. I was learning about figurative language. I was learning things I should have already known.
If the Spanish lessons were translated into English, a stranger walking into the classroom could have confused us for a lower grade level. Senora Betance used a lot of pictures and a ton of hands on activities. She had us act out the verbs to learn them. She had us label all the nouns around our house and classrooms. She had us speak to each other using our new vocabulary. There was so much practice.
I took all this back to my English class. I seemed to be applying my Spanish skills to my writing and reading. I finally felt motivated to finish learning English. As I was learning a whole new language, I was finally starting to understand parts of speech in the English language. It may sound funny, but finally in the 9th grade a Spanish teacher got through to me. This class was no longer pointless.
I went on to take 2 more years of Spanish. I don’t think I took them for credits or to raise my GPA. I took them to improve my English skills. It was okay to sit in a Spanish class and not know what a pronoun is. No one laughed and the teacher didn’t ridicule me. She simply would understand the struggle. “In English, a pronoun specific noun, remember?” Senora Betance would simply say. Automatically I would be able to identify whatever was being asked for.
If it wasn’t for Spanish, I would be a college student who wouldn’t know what a verb is, or even a noun, or adjective. Just because I spoke English like everyone around me, did not mean I understood it like my classmates. It was an embarrassing struggle for me, but once I took a step backwards, it all came together. When my Spanish class taught me the English language from scratch, I learned skills I would have to apply for the rest of my educational life.
I applied Spanish to my life. We got a business in an area with a large Hispanic population. My Spanish skills helped our business succeed and grow. Not only did it help me grow as a learner but it gave me a chance to help out my mom. My Spanish skills helped me improve my language skills. I learned to write sentences using plenty of nouns, adjectives, and nouns. No longer did I act like I was taking notes during grammar lessons, instead I made eye contact with confidence with my teachers.