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minutes to practice. The girls at that table over there will present
first," she said. The class was advertising an array of health care
products. Each student made a videotaped commercial. One girl, in
particular, stood out. She was fair with long blond hair and green
eyes. As the TV camera zoomed in on her beautiful smile, the girl held
a box of toothpaste and continued to look right back into the camera.
She never said a word, just smiled. The teacher came over to us and
quietly said,
That's Hildi. Beautiful girl, isn't she? She's
Cuban. Never talks. I've never heard her say a
word in English. I was surprised she would even
get up in front of the camera, but she doesn't
seem to be afraid of it. Oh, sure she talks to
her friends in Spanish. But she's never said a
word to me in English. Someone always translates
for her. I don't know if she is afraid to try,
or just doesn't want to speak in English. Never
causes any trouble, just very quiet.
Now wait until you see Miguel. What a
character. Talks all the time. Sometimes he
tells me jokes that he translates from Spanish.
It cracks me up because he thinks he is so funny.
The jokes lose a lot in the translation; most of
the time I don't even know what he is saying. But
he always talks. You'll see him talking to every-
body--in the cafeteria, the office, the hallways.
Everyone knows him. Listen to his grammar.
Terrible! But it won'tbe long before he will be
able to communicate well. I bet he'll be a lawyer.
He can explain his way out of anything. Strange
though, he never does any of the writing exercises
I give him.
I was interested to know how the students interacted among them
selves. The following conversation that I overheard in the library
while students were preparing for a Jose Marti program exemplified
students' individual differences in their search for identity.
"Did you know that Cuba was a colony of the U.S. before it was
free?" said one boy.