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How The Ladies
of Language
came to help
the Blue Lotus School
If it sounds
like "magic realism" - it's because it is |
Our
story begins in 2017 when a polite but grumbling class of ESOL students
at the local Adult Education Center were requesting one hour of English
conversation.
Jane, their over-worked instructor sympathized, but even though they
had paid tuition, they were told nothing could be done. Jane was a
veteran of NYC schools. She loved the class and her sympathy was genuine.
The class understood.
Meanwhile "Tim" was tutoring six individual students in various subjects
in the building's breakroom. If you have ever tried to concentrate
while people were reheating their ethnic lunches over your head, then
you know the hunger pangs Tim was experiencing.
Jane met Tim there over a plate of ravioli and offered to show him
her class. As the semester drew to a close, he got to visit again
- on the last day of class. Since Tim had wanted a class of his own,
he asked the students where they lived and most of them lived in an
area we'll call "Countryside."
An inquiry into the availability of meeting rooms at the library we
will call "Countryside Library," was met with an enthusiastic response,
and the class started meeting weekly.
Whiteboard Jungle
The class was diverse and the students showed the fledgling instructor
what they want to learn. They wanted idioms, tongue-twisters, the
names of comic book characters, and phobias. (Their English level
was quite high - they just wanted practice.)
Trying to come up with a class name, an anagram, composed of the letters
from their home countries resulted in nothing but nonsense. But with
the addition of students from the Dominican Republic—a name appeared.
It became DR PRUCCIA's class. (Dominican Republic, Peru, Russia, Ukraine,
Cuba, Colombia, Italy, and Albania.)
DR PRUCCIA's class prospered and soon was meeting twice a week. But
it was not exempt from attrition. People moved away and got jobs.
But not before it morphed into three other classes at other libraries.
On the eve of the Covid Pandemic, the class at one location peaked
at about 15 students including a Bolivian, two Bulgarians, two Venezuelans,
three Mexicans, a mainland Chinese, a Taiwanese, a Pole, an Italian,
a Russian, a Turk and an Azerbaijani. Ages ranged from sixteen years
to eighty-nine.
This class became the "G.O.A.T." They met twice a week, celebrated
birthdays, wrote short stories, and teased each other as if they were
a family. In fact, they so exhausted their instructor, a second instructor
was invited and Thursday night became "Ladies night." Tuesdays, men
were allowed (if they behaved themselves). This class spoiled their
instructors by their vitality, empathy and joie de vivre.
One day the instructor was subbing at another library, and when his
own replacement didn't show, the class showed up to a closed door
and a sign that said "Class Cancelled." But they were already there,
and so was the room. The class looked at each other, shrugged and
conducted itself. When the instructor asked about the class the following
week, he was told: "It's okay. We understood us!"
Then
the Pandemic came. Fast forward two years and the remnants of the
G.O.A.T. convened in a much larger room, wearing masks.
Several had moved, some found jobs, but those veterans (some going
back to the original class) met up. Most were women and it was suggested
that an actual club be formed so they might better stay in touch if
another emergency arose. The name "ladies of language" came
up - and as new members joined, they began to meet socially with the
occasional pot-luck lunch.
But the club lacked a purpose other than learning English and socializing.
In November of last year, when the instructor was lamenting aloud
that the club needed a purpose, a charming couple from an "antique
land" heard what he was saying.
He had mentioned his concern over orphans and their chances being
improved with the acquisition of English. He was soon given an email
address. The address was that of a young woman of twenty year, university
student in that same "antique land." She was in teacher's college
and worked six days a week for a paltry $135 per month. Her passion
was to teach. She wanted to repay her English mentor—who waved
her fee when she couldn't afford it.
After this introduction, the young woman (who will be known as Nmi)
rounded up some orphans (which, sadly, is not hard to do in her country).
She is now in her fifth class as of May of 2023. and her six students
range in age from six years to seventeen. Two of these are already
inspired to teach.
The class was given the name Blue Lotus School. Lotus flourishes with
its roots in mud—and still produces a beautiful flower. The color
blue is said to represent wisdom.
So the Ladies of Language (Las Damas de Idioma) now supports grassroot
schools through self-imposed dues of $3 per class per student.
5-13-23
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You can write
to Nmi, the Headmistress of Blue Lotus School through editor@texasescapes.com
Comments will be forwarded to Nmi.
A general fund for Grassroot Schools is in progress. Updates will
be posted.
See A School is Born.
Nmi's story was read by Mr.
Nabeel Sharoon, our contributor from Pakistan who told
of his own experiences in primary education and helping supply benches
to get students off cold floors in winter. His efforts were also curtailed
by the pandemic and he is assembling his team as this is being written.
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