Today I taught my fifth grade English-ers, and they were CRAZY, off the wall, ready for holiday. I feel your pain, grade-school teachers.
I let each student ask me a question:
What’s your name? Mrs. Bratz (teaching American titles).
What’s your favorite color? Blue.
What’s your hobby? Raising chickens.
What’s your favorite food? Chocolate.
How old are you? How old do you think I am? Eighteen (this made my day).
Can you swim? Yes, everyone in SoCal swims.
Can you play volleyball and football (meaning soccer)? No, I’m pretty bad at sports.
What’s the matter? (After explaining in what context to ask this question, I thought it a great one. Yes, what’s the matter? I’m living a double life, I’ve lost my appetite, I’m painting too much, I’m in love with Turkey, I’m waiting…)
The headmaster gave me a big bunch of flowers as a New Year’s present and said he wanted to take us to visit his village near Nemrut (in Eastern Turkey). Now wouldn’t that be amazing?
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