This is what my children’s classes would be like – in an ideal world.
But I can’t jump that high. And the dazed, tiny toddlers barely realize they’re alive, let alone how much fun it would be to follow my lead. And I’ll probably never be Japanese. I do think, however, that I pulled a groin muscle this afternoon while teaching my 8 year olds the sure-to-be-an-instant-classic “Months of the Year Cha Cha.” Their level of amusement: a solid 8. Their level of commitment: a disappointing 2. My level of enthusiasm: a super fantastic 15!!!, thus my pain level’s fluctuation from a very awkward 6 to a manageable 3.
And thinking today – the Brits teach the kids “rubbish,” and “brilliant,” the Irish dazzle them with their “grands” and the Aussies and Kiwis do their best to bolster that “zed” nonsense. For our part, the North Americans contribute “oh my god” but I wonder if I can’t take it a step further. Sean boasts that he has taught the children to say “good evening” instead of “hello” and other teachers claim to have taught their kids milder swears. Not to be outdone, I intend to teach my kids to speak with a New York drawl. Cawfee. Dawg. Hawt dawg. Oh my gawd. No, Yuki. No. Say it again. Daaaaaawwg. Wrong! Listen. Dawwwwg. Ah, brilliant. Just brilliant.
Must only wait until the lesson’s vocabulary involves snacks, animals, and Western religions. For the moment, I’ll settle for “Whaddup.”