It was a normal Friday. Work from 6:30 to 11:30am then go home and get the weekend started. Nancy, the Colombian English teacher, approached me on the way to class.
“Oh today there is a change. We are having a girl studying to be a chef come and teach them how to make a recipe.”
Great. Great because it was Friday and that was much more interesting than what we were going to do – write about personal opinions on beauty and practice choreography for an English Day presentation. And that's fun. And interesting. And it means I can just sit there all day and be a member of the audience.
“Yes we will learn how to make cocktails. Mojitos…”
I had a laundry list of questions but I let it slide.
“…without alcohol of course.”
“You say ‘of course’ like it’s obvious,” I said. She laughed her confused laugh that she thinks I can’t differentiate from her normal laugh, even though I can tell the difference 100% of the time. We kept walking.
Daniela is the older sister of one of the tenth graders. Like her sister, Juliana, she speaks English abnormally well for Colombia. She explained the origins and preparation in English, which most of the girls definitely didn’t understand, but they still watched her every move and tried to follow along the best they could.
She poured a Colombian version of sprite into the glass.
“Usually this would be with rum, and you can also replace the soda with beer,” she said. “But because we are in school, we will only use soda.”
“It’s better with beer!” a girl named Isabela yelled from the back of the room.
Daniela finished by garnishing the glass and passing it around for the girls to try.
Nancy explained the next assignment to them. Get in groups and choose a recipe to present to the class in English.
“Remember, NO ALCOHOL,” she told them in Spanish. “We are in school. No alcohol.” I was sitting in the middle of the room among all the girls, watching the presentation for fifth time that day.
“Really just even that you have to tell them that…” I said out loud, but basically to myself.
A couple of months ago they had a mandatory safety check of their first aid kits in all of the classrooms. In one of the classrooms Nancy pulled out a small bottle of rubbing alcohol and handed it to the class representative.
“Get rid of this,” she said and the girl left the room. I was confused.
“Isn’t that kind of an important component to a first aid kit? Like if someone has a cut?” I asked.
“No, they cannot have it. They are teenagers. They’ll try to drink it.” I laughed. She didn’t laugh. Uhhh, well it’s not really… We stared at each other. “It has happened before.”
The mojito made its way to the back of the room. Isabela walked up to the front while taking a drink.
“This is so bad. So bad. It’s better with beer,” she said. She held it out to me.
“No thanks, I don’t like mint.”
“Good. It’s bad. It needs beer.”
“Beer and rum. Just beer and rum?”
“Yes. Beer and rum. Better with beer and rum.” She handed off the glass and got her things to leave.
Daniela packed up her stuff and cleared off the table while Nancy and I shuffled the girls out of the room to go to lunch.
“I think next week they can start presenting their recipes?” Nancy said.
“Yeah maybe next Friday?” I replied.
“I will tell Daniela and see if she can come back to watch.” She walked away.
Another day in the Colombian school system.
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