Thistle Farms - Part One

Back in September of 2011 I taught a Spanish lesson.  I was a little rusty - it had been awhile.  I didn't teach middle school kids this time.  I taught about a dozen thistle farmers.  Right now you're thinking, "What!?  What in the world is a thistle farmer?"  You'll get an idea if you read about Jennifer below.

Click here to read about more thistle farmers.

Anyway, the thistle farmers didn't know what I was there to teach and eagerly asked, "What are you going to teach us today?" You should've seen the disappointment and the eye-rolling when I announced "Spanish". When I asked if anyone knew Spanish, most of them responded with the sentiment, "We don't need no stinkin' Spanish."

But, one lone thistle farmer started rattling off things like lavase las manos (wash your hands), lava las sábanas (wash the sheets), dame una toalla (give me a towel). We all know that learning language in context works much better than in a classroom. It turns out that she once had a Spanish speaking cellmate and she acquired some 'cell' Spanish.

Anyway, despite their reluctance, I forged on and promised them that we would have fun and that they would be able to read a short story in Spanish by the end of the hour. I kept my promise. By the end of class most of them were laughing and most were able to read a silly short story about a búfalo - see, you can read Spanish too.

Why am I writing about this now? I started writing it the day after I taught the lesson but never finished it.  Since then, Thistle Farms and the women there have become part of my life.  I thought some introductions were in order.