Gibberish.
That's all what English sounds like to me. With all those wording, pronunciations, and exceptions to rules it's hard…Spanish is so much simpler.
I don't even know why they put me in this class. I have no idea what anybody's saying. It's all a blur of the confusing language of English. Their tongue is different. The words are choppy and short. It's almost impossible to speak as efficiently as they could in so many other languages. Spanish, and Italian is more like a blend of words. Everyone speaks quickly and easily. It is so hard to learn such a difficult language. They told me it wouldn't be as easy as the others were but I didn't comprehend just how hard it would be until I tried. School has always been so easy for me in the past. And to be barley passing classes here is such an embarrassment. So when I'm not with other Mexicans or in my study hall, I just sit silently in class.
The only girls my age that I can really talk to, I wouldn't have gotten along with at my old school. They are the kind who only cares about hair, makeup, clothes, and boys. The guys are slightly better, I have to admit. When they aren't talking about how big the ass or boobs of some chick, they're pretty cool.
Even though I've only been here for a few weeks, if I had the chance to move back to Mexico, I'd do it in a heartbeat. So much sun and warmth; I never had to wear anything heavier than a long sleeve shirt. And here, I'd be lucky to only have to wear a sweater inside. I never knew it was possible for it to get so cold. The first day we got here, I walked out of the house for about five seconds and my hair was already starting to freeze. I'm don't see how some people can go around in only hoodies in this weather. It is insane. My cousin tells me they are used to the cold but I don't think I could ever get used to this. It's only December and they tell me that this snow and cold is gonna last for three more months!
The bell rings. Starting tomorrow, we are having some Indians from a reservation come and help out with students. They are going to be sort of like TA's in most of my classes, yeah, I'm that lucky. Just cause I don't know English they put me in all the special classes. What I need is somebody to help me learn English. That is, if I plan on graduating high school.
I headed towards the lap pool. Whoever decided it was the perfect time to do a swimming unit in December is obviously mentally insane. I know how to swim, so I don't see the point of spending twenty minutes every other day in this class. The water is filled with this nasty smelling chemical called chlorine. I admit it makes things more cleanly but I hate the smell, the taste, the burning in my eyes, and the way it damages my hair.
I'm not that concerned about my hair except for all the chlorine is killing it. I mean, I've already had to cut off at least eight inches. So now my hair falls just below my chin. If my father was here, he would've thrown a fit. I have to admit though, that it's a lot easier to take care of. I actually have enough time to wash it after gym now.
I quickly opened my locker and pulled out my two piece. It was a dark brown bottom with a tank top. I took my time fixing the straps and making sure it was in place. I have no shame about changing, unlike these American girls waiting in line for the bathrooms. I turned on the water and sprayed off before walking out of the locker room. I could hear the girls screeching at the cold water. If they think that is cold, try swimming across miles of water at 11 at night, then they can complain about the cold.
I waited against the wall for the rest of the class to come out. The teachers started giving instructions. We were split into two groups; the people who knew how to swim, and those who didn't or weren't able to very well. I was put in the first group. Not too much of a surprise. If I couldn't swim, I would've drowned crossing the border.
Today, my teacher was out sick, so we had a Sub. He kept staring at all the girls and kept finding excuses to touch them. I thankfully had no troubles following directions. I just had to watch what other people were doing and copy them. I don't need any one-on-one tutoring from him. I came to a stop next to one of the guys. He's okay, he's one of the few American guys who don't pull my bra strap, smack my ass, or make fun of my accent.
I've only been here one and a half months, but I haven't been able to learn much. In Mexico, I learned French and Italian as second and third languages. If I knew I was coming to America, I would have taken English. I don't see why everybody only really knows English here. Almost every other country, you learn at least three languages by my age. So I don't see the right of them to give me grief about not knowing English when they don't bother to learn any other language. I know two more languages than the average person here at school. It is taking them 4-5 years to learn a second, and that's just optional.
What's going to happen when they go to another country and people don't speak English? Not everybody is gonna bend over backwards to speak their language. I used to laugh with my friends when Americans got ripped off buying stuff when they went there on vacation. People are poor there, and if the Americans don't know how to count Pesos, or how much things are worth, than it's their own fault when they don't get the correct change or a fair price for the items they buy. They just come here with their name brand bags and cloths looking down at us like we are trash and demand service. I didn't last long waiting on Americans at my last job down there. I ended up dumping their food all over their Prada bag and shirt that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. The look on her face was priceless. She started screaming profanities at me in English. I just smirked at gave her a wave before I walked out.
I know that not all Americans are like that but they are a lot who are. I should know, I have to serve them at my new job at my uncle's Mexican restaurant. They seriously have the nerve to ask me to put on English music, with no salsa, tacos or anything of the sort. Plenty of them just ask for the meat and vegetables with one of our sugary sodas. That is not how the Mexicans eat but what makes money is what keeps me alive so maybe I shouldn't complain so much.
The sub blew his whistle and people started getting out of the pool. I was one of the last ones out considering I wasn't even trying to pay attention. He came up and helped the girls position themselves correctly, to learn how to dive. Already knowing what they were doing, I just moved quickly before, he had a chance to get to me. We were going one after the other in a line.
I felt a hot, clammy hand on my waist and I stiffened. I turned around and shook him off after giving him a glare. He ignored my obvious displeasure to him touching me and tried to move me. I grabbed his arm and shoved him away. But considering how wet the floor was and how close I was to the pool, I ended up falling in. I went over to the ladder and pulled myself out before glancing at my scrapped arms. I shot him a glare before
I stalked off to the office ignoring the looks of teachers and students around me. Stepping into the office I walked into a meeting in between a couple very large men and my cousin. I simply said his name and got the attention of all the people in the room. He gave me a "Not now" look before he noticed what I was wearing and how I was dripping water on his precious carpet. He sighed and got me a towel before pulling me out of the room. I told him about the teacher and how he was touching and staring at all the girls and what he did to me when said teacher walked in. He looked at me angrily but my cousin, being the big, strong, guy he was went up to him and escorted him to the dean.
I waited a second in my beach towel that now only went around my shoulders but almost came just below my knees. I am 5'5, whatever that means. I'm pretty average height here. But in Mexico I was considered pretty tall for a girl. People are built so much bigger here. And after being so tall for so many years, I felt like a midget looking at these men.
Geco (ge-cko) walked back in and told me to use the shower and change into my cloths. I decided to not be difficult for once and listen to him. I came out ten minutes later in my tank top and sweat pants since somebody dropped my shirt and sweatshirt into a giant puddle. Well, at least the tank covered my bra.
That's a plus. So I came back into the room and after one look at what I was wearing, he pulled off his sweatshirt and walked towards me, I put my arms up and he slipped on the three sizes too big pullover over my head. It went down to my knees and the sleeves were at least two hands, too big. I carefully rolled up arms as much as I could.
He them said something to the people in the room before leaving. Great, he stuck me here to what. converse with them? They probably don't know any of the three languages I do. But they were too busy talking to each other in another language than English. That's interesting. It was more of the sounds they made, more than words. I guessing the way they spoke the language made a difference. It was one of those "If you don't have the accent, nobody's gonna understand you" sort of things going on.
I sighed and moved a little bit in his chair with the wheels on the bottom. Hm, there was never chairs like that in Mexico. I spun around once and marveled at the mobility of the chair. I choose to tune out the taking around me while I childishly messed with the chair. Then somebody came right up to me; a women. When did she get here? I thought it was all just guys here.
I looked up at her face when she gently touched my arm. I winced a little bit at the touch and almost gasped when I saw her face. There were three horrendous scars on her face that traveled down her neck and arms. It looked like one of those television shows where they do a story on near death experience. I shifted my gaze and pulled my arm back. I felt such discomfort. I didn't want to seem rude but I didn't know exactly what to do. I don't know English and looking at her was out of my comfort level so I just sat there, staring at my grazed arms that were slightly bleeding. The women, despite my actions towards her, helped clean my cuts. I let out a yelp and pulled back at the sting of the damp cloth that she put on my arm. I have never used such a thing that stung me in that way when I cleaned scrapes before. I looked at the bubbles that were starting to numb my arm and wondered briefly if this was some American medicine. It wasn't per say hurting me, it was the prickling kind of sensation that surprised you more than causing you actual pain.
She started talking to me and I just sat there confused for a few seconds before I spoke.
"I no speakin English," I saw the confusion and then after a recognition on her face after she was able to decipher my worse than broken English.
Geco walked back in. He saw my already wrapped arms and told me that I was to go to the restaurant and start my shift early. Oh, and that what's-his-face is gonna be fired and charged for harassment.
I gave a smile to the kind women and sort of nodded towards the men. But when one of them locked eyes with me, something happened. I don't know how to explain it other than, it wasn't normal. There was love, devotion, fear, anger, amongst other emotions in his eyes. I ripped my gaze from him startled. I felt some kind of connection towards him, like he was part of me. But that don't make sense. How can I feel that? I don't even know his name.