Aphasia
Tu 8-5 1:40 PM
I'm in class with the aphasia kids. I can barely keep my eyes open. They're having free exploration time. I walked to El Taurino for an eight dollar lunch. Why do I do this to myself? I had a torta de bistec, a taco de carnitas, y una de asada. One hour and eight minutes until we're out of here. Looks like I'll be crashing when I get home. I need to pick up new registration slips. Three kids are playing a game on the computer. Two more are playing the board game, "Trouble".
What else? It's hard to think, I'm so tired. Something woke us up last night. Some loud noise scared Shirelle, and then she scared me awake. I got up and looked out the window.
I can't think of anything more to write. Jose has hazel eyes. I ask him how old he is and he says, "One." I say, "You can't be one year old. That would be a baby." He shrugs. He wears a white school uniform polo shirt buttoned to the top and profusely stained with dirty blue pants. Shirley is narrating a story about someone who eats mocos and takes her poo poo. "What grade are you in," I ask Jose. "Eight," he says. He must be talking about his age now. "I can't do it," he says. I say, "Jose, if you were in eighth grade, you would be twelve or thirteen years old. Are you twelve or thirteen years old?" I ask. He says, "Thirteen." I realize now that I am the idiot, but I say "Thirteen!?" "Twelve," he changes his answer. "When's your birthday?" I ask, and he answers, "Brilly." I say, "How many candles do they put on your birthday cake?" He says, "Three...No--twelve!" William says, "I ur putr?" I say, "Sure." I ask him what he likes. He says, "Peanut butter."
Shirley is wearing her plaid school uniform with Pocahontas shoes. She says she seven years old. She has dark, dark eyes. She says, "Your eyes are look like Jose," which is quite a compliment. She has one brother who is nine. He hates her a lot and loves her a little bit, and she loves him a lot and hates him a little bit. They fight because he takes her stuff. His name is Kevin. Her favorite things are books and computers. She said a man had a heart attack. "Hus killed heart killed heat attack?" she asks. "Where?" I ask back. "On TV," she says. "What makes you think of that?" I ask. "I don't know," she says.
I'm in class with the aphasia kids. I can barely keep my eyes open. They're having free exploration time. I walked to El Taurino for an eight dollar lunch. Why do I do this to myself? I had a torta de bistec, a taco de carnitas, y una de asada. One hour and eight minutes until we're out of here. Looks like I'll be crashing when I get home. I need to pick up new registration slips. Three kids are playing a game on the computer. Two more are playing the board game, "Trouble".
What else? It's hard to think, I'm so tired. Something woke us up last night. Some loud noise scared Shirelle, and then she scared me awake. I got up and looked out the window.
I can't think of anything more to write. Jose has hazel eyes. I ask him how old he is and he says, "One." I say, "You can't be one year old. That would be a baby." He shrugs. He wears a white school uniform polo shirt buttoned to the top and profusely stained with dirty blue pants. Shirley is narrating a story about someone who eats mocos and takes her poo poo. "What grade are you in," I ask Jose. "Eight," he says. He must be talking about his age now. "I can't do it," he says. I say, "Jose, if you were in eighth grade, you would be twelve or thirteen years old. Are you twelve or thirteen years old?" I ask. He says, "Thirteen." I realize now that I am the idiot, but I say "Thirteen!?" "Twelve," he changes his answer. "When's your birthday?" I ask, and he answers, "Brilly." I say, "How many candles do they put on your birthday cake?" He says, "Three...No--twelve!" William says, "I ur putr?" I say, "Sure." I ask him what he likes. He says, "Peanut butter."
Shirley is wearing her plaid school uniform with Pocahontas shoes. She says she seven years old. She has dark, dark eyes. She says, "Your eyes are look like Jose," which is quite a compliment. She has one brother who is nine. He hates her a lot and loves her a little bit, and she loves him a lot and hates him a little bit. They fight because he takes her stuff. His name is Kevin. Her favorite things are books and computers. She said a man had a heart attack. "Hus killed heart killed heat attack?" she asks. "Where?" I ask back. "On TV," she says. "What makes you think of that?" I ask. "I don't know," she says.
posted by johnz at 2:35 PM
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