I'm back on campus at Andover to launch the new school year, so I must wrap up summer business STAT!!
1. My daughter's brilliant friend came up with a good name for this blog. So I finally have it named: From the Desk of Nina Scott.
2. These are the blogs I was going to write this summer but didn't.
a) The Spaniard. When I first started teaching at Suffield Academy, a week before classes, Bill was so excited to tell me that a kid from Spain, the son of a famous soccer star over there, was coming to Suffield, and he'd been assigned to my English class. Wasn't that great? I was so furious. I hadn't even taught my first class yet, and I had no idea how to teach, and here was this soccer star's kid from Spain to deal with who probably couldn't even speak English properly, and how dare my husband expect me to accommodate this kid.... and you can see why Bill had the patience of a saint to stay married to me. He gave me a bad look, but he was patient. Listen, he said. The students from Spain are brilliant. Their English is fluent - and beautiful. This young man will be your best student. By far. And of course he was. Truth be told, I have not in all these years taught a smarter kid than he. He was my first most beloved student. One day I went out to the soccer field, looking for Bill. Suffield's soccer field was mostly encircled by pines, but one end fell away, like an infinity pool of grass, overlooking the valley. This day was weirdly warm for October, and foggy, and the boys must have been practicing elsewhere, There was only one person at the field, at the far edge, in the mist, looking like a statue, a tall and dark statue, wearing a cloak. I was mesmerized. I was seven months pregnant at the time. And there was Zorro on the soccer field. I waddled over. He turned slowly, and of course he was the handsomest man I have ever seen, before or since, and of course he was the Spanish soccer star, come to see his son.
b) Sign Language. One year at Andover, I was assigned to teach Catherine who couldn't hear. Naturally of course by now you are expecting me to tell you she was brilliant, as brilliant as the Spaniard, and you're right, she was. Earned straight 6's in English 300. She was so very, very smart, and extremely cool, with a fabulous sparkle about her, and a wicked sense of humor. Two interpreters accompanied her to class, two women my age, who signed not only everything I said but everything Catherine's classmates said, too, so she'd be in on every bit of class discussion. You can imagine how tired their hands were. It took me and Catherine's classmates a little while and a bit of adjusting to get over our ignorance about deaf people - we just didn't have any experiencing understanding there was zero difference between Catherine and the rest of us (except she happened to be smarter than all of us) - but anyway pretty soon in class the interpreters were just part of the gang, and we all had no trouble understanding Catherine's speech, and that was that. Great English 300 class, special really because of all we learned from Catherine (and that's a whole other blog, which I"ll write later - and also fyi Catherine is not her real name, because I'm changing all my students' names here). Then spring term, I received a note from the administration: You'll have Catherine in Instructional Volleyball this spring, but no interpreters will join her, so if you need any help, let us know, but otherwise, enjoy having her on your team. This was great, no problem for me. Yay! Catherine on my team. We had a motto on that team: I never saw a ball that didn't hit me first. At our opening practice, I welcomed everyone and explained the situation: They should make a semi-circle around me, and Catherine would stand front and center, and I'd give instruction, and she'd read my lips. No problem. So the first few days of practice, that's what happened, but on the 4th day, as I was giving instruction, with Catherine standing right in front of me, reading my lips, the semi-circle began to dissolve as the other girls wandered off - one fixed the net, a few started practicing in pairs, and I yelled: Hey, everyone!! Where are you going? I'm still giving instruction here!! And they said, "Coach. We can hear you."
c) Back at Suffield, one of Bill's soccer players was a boy named Fernando. Charming kid! And a pretty fine soccer player. His father was a bullfighter. He wins my award for most interesting father, though I never met that man. I met Fernando's mother, though. She was, take a guess, drop dead gorgeous. She gave me a crystal pyramid that I've kept on my desk every day since then, 27 years ago.
