little bit of something not nice, a little bit of something angry at Lena, something that does not like for Lena to rush him, but he lets it go away, and he closes the fridge and pours the fruit punch into a glass that used to be a jelly jar, and he drinks a big sip from it and then fills the glass again.
When he sits down next to Lena and puts his glass on the table it looks like he is wearing fruit-punch lipstick and a fruit-punch mustache.
“What do you want to do first?” he asks Lena, pulling his binder from his bag and putting it on the table.
“Math,” says Lena, and she pulls from the bottom of her bag a worksheet from her math class, which is the lowest math class. Vaclav’s math class is the highest math class. The math classes are not called lowest or highest or dumbest or smartest or slowest or fastest, they are called yellow and purple and green, but everyone knows that in yellow there are more ESL kids and more pictures on the homework worksheets. The worksheet that Lena pulls out from her backpack is like a fancy fan at the bottom, because it has become smushed under all the books in Lena’s bag.
The worksheet is about long division, which Vaclav studied in his math class last year, so he can explain it to Lena. Vaclav thinks he should tell Lena that her first problem is that she is not organized and that if she was more organized, if she had some folders and labels, then she might be more organized in her head, and that if she did not mash up and wrinkle every worksheet and homework assignment, she might care more about doing them and she might get better grades. But Vaclav is feeling that Lena does not want to hear this, that things between them are strange, because even though Vaclav is doing something nice for Lena, he is having to act extra-nicely to her, feeling like he should thank her or offer her a present, and this is making the angry feeling come again, but Vaclav ignores it.
“Here,” Vaclav says, and points her eyes toward the first problem. “This is asking how many times two will go into six hundred twenty-seven.”
“What is ‘goes into’?” asks Lena.
“It is how many twos are in six hundred twenty-seven,” says Vaclav.
“One,” says Lena, pointing at the two in 627.
“No, it is like this. You are one. I am one. Together we are two, yes?”
“Da,” says Lena.
“Together we are VacLena, one thing. But taking up two spaces—two chairs,” Vaclav says, formulating in his mind, finally, how he will show her.
“If there were six hundred twenty-seven chairs, how many VacLenas could sit?”
“I don’t know.”
“Remember, each VacLena needs two chairs, and they cannot be split up.”
“Why not?” asks Lena.
“Because,” says Vaclav, “because then there is remainder, which is the next thing.”
“What is ‘remainder’?” asks Lena.
“Is when we split up VacLena, if there is maybe only one more spot—one more chair left. Then there is just Vaclav or just Lena.”
“And this cannot be,” says Lena.
“That was very good English, Lena,” says Vaclav.
THE TIME PASSES QUICKLY AND SLOWLY
…
I t takes a whole hour for Vaclav to teach Lena her mathematics, and then there is also a worksheet to do for ESL, and then there is also a writing assignment for Lena’s regular daytime class. By the time they get to the writing assignment, Rasia is home, and it is dark out, and Vaclav’s juice glass has been filled and emptied many times. When it is time to work on the writing assignment, Lena slumps her body down into the chair so that it seems to Vaclav that she has noodles instead of bones. Even Lena’s head falls forward, and when Vaclav asks her to look directly at a sentence they have written or at the spelling of a word, she sighs and leans her arm on the table, and then leans her head on her arm, and then barely opens her eyes.
“You must use this pen, and you must write the sentence, Lena! I can help you with it, but in my handwriting the
When he sits down next to Lena and puts his glass on the table it looks like he is wearing fruit-punch lipstick and a fruit-punch mustache.
“What do you want to do first?” he asks Lena, pulling his binder from his bag and putting it on the table.
“Math,” says Lena, and she pulls from the bottom of her bag a worksheet from her math class, which is the lowest math class. Vaclav’s math class is the highest math class. The math classes are not called lowest or highest or dumbest or smartest or slowest or fastest, they are called yellow and purple and green, but everyone knows that in yellow there are more ESL kids and more pictures on the homework worksheets. The worksheet that Lena pulls out from her backpack is like a fancy fan at the bottom, because it has become smushed under all the books in Lena’s bag.
The worksheet is about long division, which Vaclav studied in his math class last year, so he can explain it to Lena. Vaclav thinks he should tell Lena that her first problem is that she is not organized and that if she was more organized, if she had some folders and labels, then she might be more organized in her head, and that if she did not mash up and wrinkle every worksheet and homework assignment, she might care more about doing them and she might get better grades. But Vaclav is feeling that Lena does not want to hear this, that things between them are strange, because even though Vaclav is doing something nice for Lena, he is having to act extra-nicely to her, feeling like he should thank her or offer her a present, and this is making the angry feeling come again, but Vaclav ignores it.
“Here,” Vaclav says, and points her eyes toward the first problem. “This is asking how many times two will go into six hundred twenty-seven.”
“What is ‘goes into’?” asks Lena.
“It is how many twos are in six hundred twenty-seven,” says Vaclav.
“One,” says Lena, pointing at the two in 627.
“No, it is like this. You are one. I am one. Together we are two, yes?”
“Da,” says Lena.
“Together we are VacLena, one thing. But taking up two spaces—two chairs,” Vaclav says, formulating in his mind, finally, how he will show her.
“If there were six hundred twenty-seven chairs, how many VacLenas could sit?”
“I don’t know.”
“Remember, each VacLena needs two chairs, and they cannot be split up.”
“Why not?” asks Lena.
“Because,” says Vaclav, “because then there is remainder, which is the next thing.”
“What is ‘remainder’?” asks Lena.
“Is when we split up VacLena, if there is maybe only one more spot—one more chair left. Then there is just Vaclav or just Lena.”
“And this cannot be,” says Lena.
“That was very good English, Lena,” says Vaclav.
THE TIME PASSES QUICKLY AND SLOWLY
…
I t takes a whole hour for Vaclav to teach Lena her mathematics, and then there is also a worksheet to do for ESL, and then there is also a writing assignment for Lena’s regular daytime class. By the time they get to the writing assignment, Rasia is home, and it is dark out, and Vaclav’s juice glass has been filled and emptied many times. When it is time to work on the writing assignment, Lena slumps her body down into the chair so that it seems to Vaclav that she has noodles instead of bones. Even Lena’s head falls forward, and when Vaclav asks her to look directly at a sentence they have written or at the spelling of a word, she sighs and leans her arm on the table, and then leans her head on her arm, and then barely opens her eyes.
“You must use this pen, and you must write the sentence, Lena! I can help you with it, but in my handwriting the
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