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As a senior, I was thrilled to take Spanish three. Half way through the course, my profesora, Sra. Fowler, asked me and another student if we would travel to a nearby elementary school and teach Spanish to second graders. She explained she had previous students who did it last semester but didn’t like it and decided not to do it this semester. She thought we would do a great job. Well, the day came when we reported to the school for the first day. The principal asked us if we really wanted the second graders, she said they were the worst group of kids she had. We agreed to teach the class, not knowing what we were getting ourselves into. The kids were a little rowdy, having an older teacher with limited control. We introduced ourselves and gave students an index card with their Spanish name printed on them. The first day we left kind of in a trance. How long did we have to do this? The following week went better. We made BINGO cards to play color and number BINGO with popular Spanish pencils as the prize! The next week we went, the teacher was absent and the kids were out of control. Being the daughter of a stickler elementary teacher, I think I must have inherited the “get control of your class” gene. As I called the class down, every student hurried to their chair, ready to listen for further instructions. The Spanish lesson went well. As I left the substitute teacher made the comment, “you are a natural, just like your dad.” Was I really that strict? Oh no, I thought, I’m acting like my dad! Weeks went by each week better than the one before. The last lesson finally came; we did an art project, in celebration of Cinco de Mayo, a Spanish holiday. We made pasta necklaces! The kids loved the art project and gave us a gift to thank us for all the lessons. It was such a great experience. That was when I knew with out a doubt, I was a natural born
