Adopt a foreigner

A month-old newspaper I received today. Headline: A "special" teacher in Ben Tre

It would seem that Morena and I have been to some places enough times or enough times in a row that we have come to be seen as regulars, or dare I say favorite customers. Maybe just pet foreigners. We went to a rice place for lunch today, and when we paid the owner brought out a bag of mysterious black globs and a bowl of white gloop. She urged us to have some. We each took a piece and tried it. Despite the unpromising visuals, it wasn't bad. We said our thanks and turned to leave, but she urged us to have more and motioned towards a table and chairs. Clearly, we were expected to sit and eat all of this. We wondered whether we would be asked to pay for this generous gesture when we were finished. The globs were some kind of dough, and the gloop was coconut-based. The latter bordered on the coconut taste that I don't like, but the former was quite enjoyable, even on its own. It kind of just tasted like raw pasta dough. In the end, we didn't have to pay for it, which made the dessert even sweeter.

Lunch. Really good meat.

Globs and gloop

Morena wanted to capture the moment of truth.

After our unexpected dessert we were already feeling a little full, but we had already deecided to go get a smoothie at our favorite place after lunch. So, we soldiered on. Luckily, strawberry is not in season so I got to repeat the jackfruit smoothie, which is what I really wanted anyway. This particular area of chairs and awnings is served by both the smoothie woman and a woman who serves rice, etc. We have only ever gotten smoothies here, but for some reason the rice lady decided to shower us with love and affection today. As soon as we walked in and sat down she pulled up a chair to join us. She chatted away happily, and most of my replies consisted of apologetic laughter and repeating the phrase "I don't know." For some ironic reason, no one seems to understand me whenever I say "I don't understand." However, her stream of Vietnamese was unwavering, and to my surprise I discovered that perhaps I did understand after all. I will never know whether I actually answered her questions or just gave answers to questions I mistakenly thought she was asking, but our two halves of conversation seemed to mesh, at least at some moments. Morena and I complimented her pajama set, and she asked us if we had our own. I told her that I had a set but that Morena did not (or that's what I meant to say, anyway). The next thing we knew she was insisting that she would take us to buy some pajamas. But first, she disappeared briefly, returning with some fruit in hand. More treats for the pet foreigners! It seemed like a fluke that this would happen twice in one day, especially since it has never happened to me before. The thing was, this treat was not such a treat. It was breadfruit, and it was not delicious. The texture is really thick and mushy, and the flavor is just... not good. In my time in Vietnam I have eaten larvae, congealed blood, fish heads, pig's feet, pig's ears, the list goes on; but breadfruit is the only thing that has ever triggered my gag reflex. Luckily, this happened after several morsels, and she was no longer observing us as closely to check for delighted appreciation. Now here's the truth. The woman's gesture was sweet. We did not want to offend her. But there was absolutely no way we were going to be able to eat all of the breadfruit she had so generously given us, even if we washed it down with smoothie or swallowed it without breathing. So, between hesitant bites, we snuck pieces into our purses and pockets. Everyone was happy.

We're supposed to go pajama shopping together tomorrow.

Breadfruit. Beware.

In the afternoon Morena and I had our first session with the Communication Corner, something new on our schedule this month. We had no idea what it was going to be. We had only been told that we didn't need to prepare anything, and that we just had to attend and act as a resource in case students had questions for us. For the first 20 minutes or so, only Vietnamese was spoken. Then, it was our turn to talk about "love or friendship," a very broad topic. Given that no one seemed capable of speaking or understanding English, it all seemed rather pointless. However, it gradually became apparent that the students actually could say and understand at least a few things, and they started asking me questions in English. The second half was much better than the first. As is inevitable when joining a new group, we were asked to sing. Because Morena didn't know any English songs, we sang Frère Jaques in French. Then, one of the students responded with a rendition of M2M's "The Day You Went Away," one of the many random American songs that are for some reason (karaoke) favorites in Vietnam.

Time for another confession. Though I always make sure to have a fleshed out and detailed lesson plan for my classes with students, I almost never do the same for my classes with teachers. Sometimes this works really well, because it allows me to steer by their interests or questions, but sometimes I am freewheeling my way through class. The theme of tonight's lesson was family, and I was really happy with how it turned out. I had a few activities in mind, but I responded to confusions I observed and was able to come up with more activities that I felt did a good job of clarifying new vocabulary and structures. I'm not big on teaching rules; I don't necessarily know them myself, and I think that focusing on remembering rules can interfere with fluent speaking. Still, students need to know when (and sometimes why) we say things a certain way.

Building on what they already knew to explain oldest, youngest, etc.
Tossed twins in for good measure.

Look what I found in the textbook

Morena finally got to move into her room today. This means no more 7am drilling for me and a new next-door neighbor with whom I can chat from the bathroom. Speaking of 7am, I have a 730 breakfast date with my students again tomorrow morning.