The Learning Curve

I must have looked pretty crazy standing in the middle of Office Depot with a puzzled look on my face.  I'm sure my hair was mussed from running my hands through it.  I may have even been mumbling to myself.  

I'd already circled the store at least seven times when a store clerked noticed me.  He walked slowly towards me with his arm defensively outstretched, as if I was a wild raccoon ready to attack.  "Do you need some help?" he said softly, not wanting to startle me.  

My eyes flashed to his name tag, Uziah, and then up to his curious face. I mustered all the respectability I could find and said hopefully, "Yes. Yes, I do.  Do you speak Spanish?"

"Of course," he replied nonchalantly with a shrug of his shoulders, as if everyone in southern California speaks Spanish. 

I thrust my list of school supplies towards his face and asked in one long continuous breath, "What the heck is this?  Portadocumento.  They told me it was a plastic folder thingy with a rubber band, but it's not an accordion file.  I have no clue, and I've looked everywhere in your store, and I just can't find it."

Uziah knew instantly exactly what I needed.  I followed him expectantly as he led me straight to the portadocumento that I needed.  

"Oh thank you so much.  You have no idea how much you've helped me!" I said, relieved to have one more item marked off the impossible list of school supplies.

"No problem," Uziah said with a smile.  "But...why did they give you the school supply list in Spanish?"

At this I had to laugh, probably a little too maniacally.  I explained that I actually live in Mexico and that my kids are going to a bilingual school and that I had asked the school where I should go to buy school supplies, many of which I'd never heard of in English (triangular colored pencils?).  They'd told me Target.  I'd been at Target four stores ago.

He shook his head uncertainly and studied my blond hair and freckles and said, "That's not what I expected."  Then he told me where I could go in Tijuana to buy the rest of the school supplies.  I could have kissed him.

Some of you may remember from January that I blogged about my dilemma with choosing a school for Jacob, and at that time I decided to send him to school in California, because I didn't think I could handle dealing with the schools in Mexico.  Well, that was eight months and God only knows how many hours of border commuting ago, and we have decided to tackle the challenges of sending our second grader to the local bilingual school.  I don't know how it's all going to work out now, but I know one thing for certain.  I made the right decision back in January.  I was definitely not prepared for school in Mexico eight months ago.  I'm still not sure I am now, but I'm optimistically assuring myself that I'm up for the challenge.

I knew, of course, there would be a learning curve with changing Jacob's school.  I just didn't know it would mostly affect me.  All information that comes home from school is in Spanish, so I spend ten to fifteen minutes translating every handout, so that I can learn things like which uniform my kid needs to wear on which day.  Oh yeah, it's that complicated.  And I don't even want to talk about the super-invasive preschool information sheet that I needed help filling out that wanted to know things like: does your child wet the bed?; how much time does your child's father spend with him each day?  what is your house constructed of? and was your child a planned pregnancy?  Hello, other mothers that I've never met before!  Would you like to get all up in my business and help me answer these questions?  You would?  Thanks!

I've bought uniforms and had them embroidered with their names, and I've rounded up the last box of triangular pencils, which, by the way, cost $7 per box.  I still get sick to my stomach when I think about it.  The boys passed uniform and supply inspection, and if you're imagining little boys lined up at attention with their shoes spit-shined and their weapons resting at their shoulder, just remember that guns are illegal in Mexico.  I must admit, though, they look awfully cute in their new sweater vests, even if school bus yellow really only looks good on-- school buses.

I've even done homework.  So far, I've turned a bean can into a pencil cup for Benjy, and I've drawn red margins on Jacob's notebooks.  Rumor has it that I'll be covering all their text books in contact paper this weekend.  I better get an A.

The good news is Jacob likes his school and the shorter commute and doesn't seem bothered that he doesn't know what's being said for half of the day.  Of course, it's only been four days.  I know it will get harder.  

Benjy tells me at least 30 times a day that he loves his school, although there has been some confusion over whether a boy in his class with long, curly hair is indeed a boy.  Benjy's convinced he's a girl, and nothing I say seems to dissuade him.

I'm happy my boys are happy,  and I'm happy to be learning so much Spanish.  I just can't wait until I get to read second grade books and write book reports in Spanish.  Do you think anyone will notice if we use Google Translate?