Happy Thanksgiving week to all of my readers, friends and family alike. My students have just recently wrapped up their lessons on our uniquely American holiday, and though few of them will celebrate it, what they've learned will hopefully make them feel a part of it this year. When I gave my classes, I didn't mention the football games or the colorful once-a-year fixings. I also chose not to explain why, on this particular day each year, our good eating habits go out the window when we proceed to gorge ourselves until nausea sets in. Instead, I shared with my students the story of the first Thanksgiving, albeit the pared down version that's appropriate for eight-year-olds. I crafted for my wide-eyed children a tale that invoked the Pilgrims' fear and cold, and the hopelessness so beautifully transformed that day into gratitude by the generosity of the Indians. The students had to produce their own retelling of the Thanksgiving story for their second bimester project, and the ten with the most creativity and effort earned a place on our class bulletin board. Check it out:
Despite my expectation that I would be teaching in Mexico for two years, I've come home to New York not just for the Thanksgiving holiday but to stay. I decided that while I became quite fond of my students, the administration's vision for the school was not one that I shared. A successful educational model is contingent on mutual respect between administrators, parents, students and teachers. I did not feel that the necessary trust from all involved parties was there, and thus I could not offer the school the best of myself. All of that aside, I'm thrilled to have experienced life in a Latin American culture and honed in on my Spanish-speaking skills. Please know that all of your feedback was greatly appreciated, and that I am eager to invite you to support my future projects.
Until next time,
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