I think this reminder was as important for me to hear as it was for the seven other girls in the classroom. I definitely feel stupid a lot of the time. Living in a world where my thoughts and words are based around a very limited vocabulary, it’s not uncommon that I feel like I’ve dropped a few years — or decades — in intelligence (though what I lack in smarts I’m making up for in units of character built through the experience). I remember playing hangman about a month ago when, after I beat the game, my friend told me, “Very good, Allison! Manolla wouldn’t have been able to guess that word!”

Great. I have managed to surpass the intelligence level of a six-year-old.

But let me give you the context for this entry’s title: Two weeks ago, Ryan and I started to give English classes at Villa Huidif — a home for girls who have been orphaned, abandoned, or come from abusive or unhealthy families. There are about 40 girls from ages 1-17 living in the home and it is truly touching to see how loving and open they are, despite the challenges that they’ve had to deal with at such an early age. We first visited the home a few weeks ago with Jacqui and Manolla when they went to drop off some of the clothes Manolla had outgrown. At the end of our visit, as we were saying goodbye, the tía (tía/o is the Spanish word for aunt or uncle, but is often used in Chile as a term of respect for teachers or other adults…in this case, the tía is one of the women who works in the home) asked us whether we could come back and give English lessons. Smart woman. She appreciates the impossibility of saying no to twenty girls looking up at you with pleading eyes.

So, two weeks later, we were back at Villa Huidif for our first English class with a small group of girls between the ages of 14 and 16 who are all studying the language in their respective schools. The beginning of the class was a bit uncomfortable as the girls and the teachers jockeyed for control of the room. When one of the girls started made a whispered comment to her friend about the two new (and slightly clueless teachers), the tía hushed them saying, “Son gringos, no tontos! Ellos pueden entenderte!” (“They’re gringos, not stupid! They can understand you!”). Unfortunately, the tía gave me more credit that I deserved: I knew they were talking about me, but I hadn’t understood a word.

Overall, the class went very well. The girls are all at a very basic level of English, so we spent the first class teaching the letters of the alphabet and singing the alphabet song. We ended with a slang exchange: the girls asked us for translations of commonly-used Chilean slang, which usually involved them first teaching us what the words meant before we could come up with the English equivalent. Some of the solicited words were “cheat sheet,” “incredibly boring,” and “duh.” I don’t want to know how the words are going to be used. However, despite the vast wealth of knowledge that we will be imparting to these young girls, I think the people learning most from the classes will be the teachers.

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Speaking of teaching, I am collecting suggestions. If anyone has any tips for teaching introductory foreign language, I would love to hear any advice that you have to offer. Also, for those of you who have studied or are studying a foreign language and remember games that you enjoyed playing or teaching techniques that helped you learn more easily, any and all contributions would be extremely appreciated!

A big hug to everyone! I miss you all!