Six Hundred Hellos

Before I was born, my mom tells me, my grandparents worried about my parents' name choice. Grandpa was sure that everyone would call me "Alice" instead of "Alyse." And while he is the only one who has ever called me Alice regularly (he thought it was quite funny), they weren't that far off. I don't know that I have ever been in an office or a classroom where the person reading from a list pronounces both of my names correctly. I'll be honest: because of it, I have a chip on my shoulder.

Tell me whose heart wouldn't melt, though, when her name is mispronounced by hundreds of five year olds? Mine certainly has.

For my assignment as an ETA, I work in five different preescolares. My students are all in their third year of preschool (the U.S. equivalent of kindergarten) and they are all unbelievably precious. I have always been awed by the work of tireless teachers who work with little ones. This awe is only amplified for the teachers of these classes of thirty students. Because I work in at least three and as many as seven groups at each school, I am now the proud Teacher Ahleez of about six hundred kids. I thought that college was exhausting.

My routine looks something like this. I walk into the classroom with the teacher I assist. Thirty faces light up. The students say, "Good morning, teacher! Good morning, teacher Ahleez!" We begin our lesson. I will help to pronounce words like "Good afternoon," "Thank you," and "Orange." I ask questions like "How are you?" and get answers like "My name is..." Some students jump out of their seats they're so eager to participate. Others hide their faces in their arms and stare at me with trepidation. All of them steal my heart. Then, we say "Goodbye, boys and girls" and start all over.

My students are remarkable. I want to be like them when I grow up. The teachers I assist assure me that nothing could have been more exciting to them than the news that a stranger who doesn't speak their language (shhhh, don't tell!) is going to be with them every week. Nothing holds them back from dancing enthusiastically, and with hand motions, to cheaply produced music. Nothing gets them as excited as the question, "Now, who wants to give our new teacher a hug?" I have been joyfully received into hundreds of outstretched arms.

There are some moments from these first couple of weeks of teaching that have been particularly wonderful. At one school, the kids prepared elaborate artwork to welcome me. Their signs read "Welcome to our school," "Welcome to Mexico," "This is your home," and, my favorite (featured above) "Alize: We welcome you with the heart. 'Smile'."

In another school, the most rural of my assignments, the Principal invited one of the grandparents forward to extend a special greeting. El Estado de México (the state where I live) has a large number of indigenous language speakers. In this community, Masahua is still spoken among older folks. It was an incredible honor to receive such a special welcome. Here's a clip of it (sorry, you'll have to tilt your head sideways to watch it!)

While I work in a bunch of different schools, in every classroom, I have the opportunity to ask the kids their names. After a few classes, I decided to crouch down to be less intimidating to the kiddos. At the first table in the first class where I tried this tactic, I couldn't even ask "What's your name?" before the girl to whom the question was directed came up to me, smiled, and crouched down right in front of me. I realized then how silly I must have looked. She was doing me a favor by joining in.

This very activity has helped me to get in on the trendy names for five year olds in Mexico. Of course, I have a "Maria" and a "Jesus" in most every class. Also, though, I have a number of girls named "Kenya," and a surprising number of boys named "Axel."

In the school with the most diverse group of names (I realize I really like the name "Blue"), I was able to join in at recess with all of the kids. I was worried that they would be too shy to play with me. When I was half way into a thirty person game of duck, duck, goose, I realized I was wrong. During that break, I learned that while I may be able to outrun one five year old in a game of tag, I simply cannot outrun fifty. I also wondered how the half hour recess could feel so long, until I realized that the school extended it just for me.

After that, any lingering doubt that I might have had as to whether I love working with preschoolers vanished. I went into the final classroom of the day, still out of breath from our game of tag, and a little swarm of students ran up to me. One illustrated her ballet skills. Another asked me if I could come to her birthday party the following day—she'd be wearing new shoes, she added. Finally, before the teacher called the students to their desks, a little girl named Alison hugged me tightly and said, "¡Ahleez, te quiero mucho!" ("Alyse, I love you a lot!"). I couldn't help but tear up a little bit as our "Good Morning" song started.

I have so very much to learn from my students. They have already helped me to love more readily, and to try new things (like assistant teaching preschool) with enthusiasm. While I may not remember all of their six hundred names, and may have my own changed slightly by their pronunciation, I feel very privileged to be Teacher Ahleez.

Did I mention that I get another eighty students (all adults) next week? That will be an adventure too.