Once a Foreigner Always a Novelty - Carissa Hope Lynch

My life: Is an odd mix of new conversations, second languages, confusion, naps, laughter, goals, and moderate insanity. I'm that tall gringo, wearing shorts in cold weather, that talks to himself and his dogs. I walk fast. I look at some people; I ignore others; I quickstep gutters and potholes, and my New Balances aren't going last the year. My feet smell--note to self, don't reuse socks.

In the evenings it rains, typically. Tonight it sort of just got anxious about a storm. The sky coughed and sneezed a few times, but ultimately Mexico beat the U.S. and there was no need to cry today. (Beatriz stopped to pose in front of all the salivating Mexicans as they watched the game. We took the subway home today and walked through Zona Rosa).

I started watching the game on my computer. I thought laying down would help me settle into the game. I settled into a deep sleep, we all did. I awoke late. I awoke late for a Spanish lesson. I thought about excuses, but honesty prevailed, and it turned out Hector forgot as well. All is well.

I walked the streets for awhile, let the dogs do their deeds, and watched Mexicans, like little Ninga turtles, jump and cavort in the streets. The Policia was there--they always are.

Anywho, the other day I drove to the south of the city. I took Sarah's kids and my dogs in my car. I am the cool neighbor right now and my car is a spaceship. We drove through traffic, which was not as bad as I thought it would be, to UNAM--the National Autonomous University of Mexico. I swapped kids for a their dog, and I took the dogs to the main esplinade of the University. I was wary to let them off, but after asking a few people about the situation, I let them go. Buster, el perro de mi vecino, is deaf. I was really praying he didn't bolt, because I don't know how you call a deaf dog back--not like my dogs, who can hear, always listen either. In any event, the dogs had a blast. People were really friendly, and even when I thought they were bothering them, the people said it was okay. Chops made friends with a lot of little groups of college co-eds. Flow snuggled up to a sweet dame who fed her bread--the young lady was mistified when the other dogs began to crowd her. Buster took a diahreea by some folks. I met two Law School Students, Armando and Stephanie. I traded numbers with them. Chops and Buster began playing. Flow laid in the shade. And so it went. It was great. A lot of hippy folk, a lot of freedom, a lot of fun times.








Other than that I have been getting down at work. I am organizing my room and meeting the department folks. To the right you see Siri Berman, my mentor and social guru. She has been insanely helpful. She really has showed me the ropes, and done it with a smile. Today she took me to the bank to pay my rent, and tomorrow we are playing some ultimate, and on Saturday a bunch of us are going to head to Ajusco, a sumit somewhere on the periphery of D.F.




Megan is the AP English teacher at the school. She is from Michigan. She has got some fire in her. She is rad, but I sure as hell don't want to get on her shit list. That being said, she has been super helpful with curriculum and units. We are teaching English I (9th Grade) together. She is standing in my little room, room 102 (ciento y dos).




I have intentions of decorating my room immaculately, posters from Marissa's pics, concert posters, etc. However, the school, who is far more concerned with appearances than practicality, says we aren't allowed to put things on the walls, except for the bulletin boards. I am beginning to understand the picture. I will explain what this means in a metaphor:

The highschool building by all appearances looks like a posh testament to post modern, 21st Century, progressive thinking. It is clean and white, and abstract in concept. It is a certified green building, and it has certain benchmarks to make it such: such as no heating or air conditioning, because it allows outside temps to regulate it. It has large windows with transluscent blinds that allow natural light in. Aside from the "greenness" all the rooms have nice new desks and chairs; the lockers are all nice and shiny; there are common sitting areas for the kids, and so on. However, cabinets don't have nobs on them. Structural cracks and plaster already need repair. Some of the lockers are already busted. The green blinds, let so much light in, that projectors are unusable at times, and the Trustees and financial officer won't allow teachers to put paper in their windows, because it doesn't look nice. They will try and find money for better blinds soon. Until that time, they are blowing thousands on relandscaping the Founder's Garden.

What it means is this (and I nervously proclaimed this in a bullshit talk back with a spineless administrator by the name of, Juan de Jesus): I get the impression that this school is preparing us and the facilities to appear very nice and progressive, but at the foundation we are not recieving what is needed to be successful, e.g. computers, projectors, planning time, academic guidance, tech training, etc. Basically the building is a metaphor for where the powers at be are putting their priorities: shit looks great, but it is a facade. Blah! THEY DO GIVE US ALL THE FREE SCHOOL SUPPLIES WE NEED! YAHOO!

Go Green Go!