old LPs,” I offered. “Maybe we could reprogram Alfie.”
“Reprogram?” Pablo asked, lifting a questioning hand.
I’d noticed this before with Señora Robles and in the videos we watched together. Latin people spoke with their faces and hands as well as with words. I wondered if my birth parents had been expressive. If my birth mother’s hands suffered from rashes, too.
“Reprogram is, well, you erase the old stuff, then you fill someone’s head with new information.”
Pablo winced as if in pain. Had I said something wrong? “Reprogram,” he murmured. “It is what the
guardia
do to the prisoners in my country.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, touching his arm before I could think to keep my hand to myself.
“I have a special favor to ask, Milly.” Pablo always pronounced my name as if it had two sets of double
e
s, Meelee. We were sitting at the kitchen table, preparing to do our homework.
I nodded, unsure what he was going to ask me. The thought did cross my mind that maybe Pablo was going to hit on me. And in his corny, well-mannered, foreign-student way, he’d probably ask first! Maybe he’d gotten the wrong idea from my joking about throwing myself at him?
“I want to improve my English,” Pablo explained. “Ms. Morris is giving me extra lessons, but she speaks very fast.” It’s true, our English teacher was a speed talker. Her English sections were the only ones that always got through the yearly syllabus with time to spare. I mean, we did
Romeo and Juliet
in three days! It was like R & J are in love, then R & J are in bed, then R & J are dead—boom, boom, boom. “I wish for you to help me with my English.” Pablo had lowered his voice as if he were asking for something intimate.
I was shaking my head in total disbelief. This was like my “helping” Nate with his science report two months ago!
Pablo misunderstood my reaction as meaning
no
. His face darkened with embarrassment. “I ask too much, forgive me.”
“It’s not that,” I explained. “I’m just surprised because up to about a year ago, I was like Ms. Dodo in English. I had to take special lessons and go to a tutor every day. And here you are, asking me to be your teacher!”
“I do not understand.
You
were in need of special instruction in English?”
How much to tell him? “I had some learning problems. I’d get letters confused and write the wrong words and not make any sense. Same with reading.” Actually, I still struggled sometimes. But I liked putting my failures in the past tense.
Pablo was nodding in agreement. “I have these learning problems as well. English is very difficult, Milly.”
“But that’s because it’s not your native language. . . .” My voice kind of petered out toward the end. I mean, was English technically
my
native language? Mom and Dad hadn’t brought me to the States until I was almost a year old.
“You know what?” I said, beginning to lose my nerve. “I think you’d be better off asking someone else to help you.”
I was thinking of Meredith. She’d love to teach Pablo a thing or two! Though recently she’d backed off. According to Em, Pablo didn’t seem interested. “Meredith says he probably has a girlfriend back home.”
Now it was Pablo who was shaking his head at me. “I want your instruction, Milly. You speak in a clear way I understand. Your English is very good.”
Don’t ever let anyone tell you compliments don’t work. “Okay,” I agreed. “But you have to help me with my Spanish, too.”
“One day, Spanish. One day, English,” Pablo suggested. “Today, English.” He opened his backpack (one of our hand-me-downs) and pulled out the ESL workbook Ms. Morris had special-ordered for him. I paged through it. Stupid conversational skits. No wonder he wasn’t making much progress. “Pablo, this is so dumb!”
“Por supuesto,”
he agreed. “But it is the practice in pronunciation I require.”
I nodded. Pablo could use help in that department,
“Reprogram?” Pablo asked, lifting a questioning hand.
I’d noticed this before with Señora Robles and in the videos we watched together. Latin people spoke with their faces and hands as well as with words. I wondered if my birth parents had been expressive. If my birth mother’s hands suffered from rashes, too.
“Reprogram is, well, you erase the old stuff, then you fill someone’s head with new information.”
Pablo winced as if in pain. Had I said something wrong? “Reprogram,” he murmured. “It is what the
guardia
do to the prisoners in my country.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, touching his arm before I could think to keep my hand to myself.
“I have a special favor to ask, Milly.” Pablo always pronounced my name as if it had two sets of double
e
s, Meelee. We were sitting at the kitchen table, preparing to do our homework.
I nodded, unsure what he was going to ask me. The thought did cross my mind that maybe Pablo was going to hit on me. And in his corny, well-mannered, foreign-student way, he’d probably ask first! Maybe he’d gotten the wrong idea from my joking about throwing myself at him?
“I want to improve my English,” Pablo explained. “Ms. Morris is giving me extra lessons, but she speaks very fast.” It’s true, our English teacher was a speed talker. Her English sections were the only ones that always got through the yearly syllabus with time to spare. I mean, we did
Romeo and Juliet
in three days! It was like R & J are in love, then R & J are in bed, then R & J are dead—boom, boom, boom. “I wish for you to help me with my English.” Pablo had lowered his voice as if he were asking for something intimate.
I was shaking my head in total disbelief. This was like my “helping” Nate with his science report two months ago!
Pablo misunderstood my reaction as meaning
no
. His face darkened with embarrassment. “I ask too much, forgive me.”
“It’s not that,” I explained. “I’m just surprised because up to about a year ago, I was like Ms. Dodo in English. I had to take special lessons and go to a tutor every day. And here you are, asking me to be your teacher!”
“I do not understand.
You
were in need of special instruction in English?”
How much to tell him? “I had some learning problems. I’d get letters confused and write the wrong words and not make any sense. Same with reading.” Actually, I still struggled sometimes. But I liked putting my failures in the past tense.
Pablo was nodding in agreement. “I have these learning problems as well. English is very difficult, Milly.”
“But that’s because it’s not your native language. . . .” My voice kind of petered out toward the end. I mean, was English technically
my
native language? Mom and Dad hadn’t brought me to the States until I was almost a year old.
“You know what?” I said, beginning to lose my nerve. “I think you’d be better off asking someone else to help you.”
I was thinking of Meredith. She’d love to teach Pablo a thing or two! Though recently she’d backed off. According to Em, Pablo didn’t seem interested. “Meredith says he probably has a girlfriend back home.”
Now it was Pablo who was shaking his head at me. “I want your instruction, Milly. You speak in a clear way I understand. Your English is very good.”
Don’t ever let anyone tell you compliments don’t work. “Okay,” I agreed. “But you have to help me with my Spanish, too.”
“One day, Spanish. One day, English,” Pablo suggested. “Today, English.” He opened his backpack (one of our hand-me-downs) and pulled out the ESL workbook Ms. Morris had special-ordered for him. I paged through it. Stupid conversational skits. No wonder he wasn’t making much progress. “Pablo, this is so dumb!”
“Por supuesto,”
he agreed. “But it is the practice in pronunciation I require.”
I nodded. Pablo could use help in that department,
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