I got a couple weeks of work teaching at a GED program run by the local housing authority. The funding situation hcnaged at the last minute, so my starting situation was a bit disorganized, but not so bad that someone who’s taught ESL in China would notice.
My class is held in a building with a HeadStart and some kind of women’s health program, down a street of light-up Bail Bonds and Check Cashing signs. When I came in, the matriarch at the front desk offered to lock up my purse for me, and made sure I hadn’t left anything important in the car. It really didn’t improve my first-class confidence.
The students, though, were any teacher’s dream. They all really wanted to be there and really wanted to do the work. We worked on essay writing, and while their writing level was general pretty low, and they were pleased with their essays at the end of class. One woman said that she couldn’t wait to read her work to her kids to show them how intellectual she sounded. I was so proud!
Stick and I were talking about this at dinner that night, in between convincing Stick’s parents that I’m perfectly safe. Our waitress came back over at this point. “Are y’all doing good over here?” she asked us.
“Sure she is.” Stick said, “But she has to drive to the projects to do it.”
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