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An oop-date on de espanish
I cannot stop speaking like Ricky Ricardo since we got back from Miami. Sorry.
Anyway, let me tell you what I learned in the last month Maria was not in school: There is good reason we blame Mother for everything.
If this child does not grow up to speak fluent Spanish it is, indeed, my fault.
She left school in mid-December and was chattering in Spanish like una cotorra. She was going as far as speaking in Spanish to her father, who is not fluent, and expecting him to understand and answer.
Though she spent several days with my parents before Christmas, and this past week in Miami, the ingles ruled. For her and for me.
Why my fault? She follows my lead. If I speak Spanish, so does she. If I speak English, so does she. And, for the life of me, I do not know why it is so easy to speak to my family in Spanish one moment and the next address my daughter in English. (I've mentioned being a lazy cow before) And then, of course, she's speaking in English so her grandmother and tias answer her in English Miami-style. Vicious little cycle I start.
Now, under the tutelage of her abuelito, she did often sing Seis Lindas Cubanas and, to the delight of the viejos, there was frequent recitation of "Los zapaticos me aprietan, las medias me dan calor...'' And, much to my delight, she is sounding out and spelling simple words in both Spanish and English. The other day it was "casa,'' "pera'' and "sol.''
But, I truly expect a note from La Catalana -- her teacher -- asking me what happened to the chatty, little bilingual during the long break. I'm almost afraid to see her. The woman is a force.
And so, yet again, it begins and ends with Mami and Mami no es doing too bueno a jub.
Anyway, let me tell you what I learned in the last month Maria was not in school: There is good reason we blame Mother for everything.
If this child does not grow up to speak fluent Spanish it is, indeed, my fault.
She left school in mid-December and was chattering in Spanish like una cotorra. She was going as far as speaking in Spanish to her father, who is not fluent, and expecting him to understand and answer.
Though she spent several days with my parents before Christmas, and this past week in Miami, the ingles ruled. For her and for me.
Why my fault? She follows my lead. If I speak Spanish, so does she. If I speak English, so does she. And, for the life of me, I do not know why it is so easy to speak to my family in Spanish one moment and the next address my daughter in English. (I've mentioned being a lazy cow before) And then, of course, she's speaking in English so her grandmother and tias answer her in English Miami-style. Vicious little cycle I start.
Now, under the tutelage of her abuelito, she did often sing Seis Lindas Cubanas and, to the delight of the viejos, there was frequent recitation of "Los zapaticos me aprietan, las medias me dan calor...'' And, much to my delight, she is sounding out and spelling simple words in both Spanish and English. The other day it was "casa,'' "pera'' and "sol.''
But, I truly expect a note from La Catalana -- her teacher -- asking me what happened to the chatty, little bilingual during the long break. I'm almost afraid to see her. The woman is a force.
And so, yet again, it begins and ends with Mami and Mami no es doing too bueno a jub.
I really enjoy reading your posts! And I’m curious, is Maria’s teacher a Spanish speaker as well? Is the class in Spanish?
When it’s time for me to have kids I also want to make sure they learn Spanish, porque si no…. =)
Honey, you keep going… I know sometimes you might feel lazy, pero no puedes dejar de hablarle en espanol. Her future is going to be better because of that, not counting how closer she’ll feel to her Cubanita heritage.
Sigue pa’lante!
I have some advantage with Nicolas, because at home we speak only Spanish, pero en este monte, the environment is not very favorable to that…
Anyway, at least the boy already knows to say “caca”; and exactly what it means!
:)
Marcia, Maria’s teacher is from Spain, and the other teacher is a native Speaker as well. I’ll tell you all about it if you like. LLamame. E-mail-eh me. And mi amiga Cubanita, I will keep going…I just sometimes fall off the wagon. And, LOL on the caca!
I feel you, sister. Penny now fights with me. I say, “Ponte el vestido,
and she goes, “No! Dress.” At least I know she understood me. It’s just easier in English, isn’t it?
LOL! - I fear that this is what I have to look forward to. Mine is still chiquitica, but I can already see me slipping a lot because I have no one else around me that speaks it too.
Anyway, your blog is fun to read - reminds me of my own days growing up in Miami (before TN life). Oh and the food . . . miss it!!!
Chantel, I try not to tell Maria too often what absolutely gorgeous hair she has. I try. Gracias! Avill, welcome to Tennessee!
My kids butcher Spanish . . .but with great enthusiasm. Does that count?
I figure there is always “Rosetta Stone.” =D