Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Posted: 21 Nov 2009, 01:20
HELLO,MY NAME IS MISS GUZMAN
"Can I help you?" I said to the portly Mexican woman.
She looked like she was in her early twenties. Wearing a stocking cap,she looked lost.
"I hear for student,"she said looking at the floor.
"Pasale.Who is the student?"
"He not hear. He went home,"she said still not raising her look.
"Are you a parent?"
"No. I help the student,but he go home."
"What's his name?"
"Burns."
"DeJuan Burns?"
"Yes. That is the student."
"He's not in my class anymore."
"I know.He go home.They tell me to come here."
I couldn't make sense out of what was going on. DeJuan Burns was a black kid in my class that was having some big problems. His medication wasn't working for his ADD and he was acting out of control. They finally removed him from my class and gave him a one on one tutor to follow him around from class to class. I looked at this woman and figured the other tutors didn't want to deal with DeJuan,so he was dished off to this lady. I'd never seen her around before.
"Como te llamas?"I asked.
"Hello,my name is Miss Guzman."
I felt sorry for her. They shoudn't have assigned her to be with this kid. She acted tentative. Frail.
"Well you can help today if you want. Pasale por favor."
Miss Guzman sat at a desk in the back of the room. She circulated around as the kids did a writing assignment. I could tell she didn't feel comfortable.
After helping a few students I saw that she was looking at my painting of Pancho Villa that I had hanging up at the back of the classroom. She looked at it for quite a while. I started walking to the back of the room. She was still looking at the painting when I stopped beside her.
"You like?"
"Oh si. It is beautifull."
"I painted that."
"Really? It is very beautifull. I like it very much."
"You want to see more of my paintings?"
"You paint more?"
I went to the computer and showed her some of my paintings that I had posted on the thread.
"My God. These are very beautifull. How you do this?"she asked.
She was looking at me. Her smile was big. She was "morena." Her had the whitest teeth that filled her smile.Her eyes were alive. Color rushed into her face as she talked to me.
"This is what I like to do,"I said.
"How long you paint?"
"Nine years."
"Only nine years. This is remarkable."
"You take lessons?"
"I'm self taught."
"This is remarkable,"she exclaimed."You have a gift."
"Thank you very much."
She sparkled as she was talking.
The bell rang for the class to end. As the kids filed out the door,Miss Guzman looked again at the painting of Pancho Villa.
"I really like this one,"she said.
I told her that I hoped to see her around campus again. As she walked away I was wishing that she would let me paint her face someday.
"Can I help you?" I said to the portly Mexican woman.
She looked like she was in her early twenties. Wearing a stocking cap,she looked lost.
"I hear for student,"she said looking at the floor.
"Pasale.Who is the student?"
"He not hear. He went home,"she said still not raising her look.
"Are you a parent?"
"No. I help the student,but he go home."
"What's his name?"
"Burns."
"DeJuan Burns?"
"Yes. That is the student."
"He's not in my class anymore."
"I know.He go home.They tell me to come here."
I couldn't make sense out of what was going on. DeJuan Burns was a black kid in my class that was having some big problems. His medication wasn't working for his ADD and he was acting out of control. They finally removed him from my class and gave him a one on one tutor to follow him around from class to class. I looked at this woman and figured the other tutors didn't want to deal with DeJuan,so he was dished off to this lady. I'd never seen her around before.
"Como te llamas?"I asked.
"Hello,my name is Miss Guzman."
I felt sorry for her. They shoudn't have assigned her to be with this kid. She acted tentative. Frail.
"Well you can help today if you want. Pasale por favor."
Miss Guzman sat at a desk in the back of the room. She circulated around as the kids did a writing assignment. I could tell she didn't feel comfortable.
After helping a few students I saw that she was looking at my painting of Pancho Villa that I had hanging up at the back of the classroom. She looked at it for quite a while. I started walking to the back of the room. She was still looking at the painting when I stopped beside her.
"You like?"
"Oh si. It is beautifull."
"I painted that."
"Really? It is very beautifull. I like it very much."
"You want to see more of my paintings?"
"You paint more?"
I went to the computer and showed her some of my paintings that I had posted on the thread.
"My God. These are very beautifull. How you do this?"she asked.
She was looking at me. Her smile was big. She was "morena." Her had the whitest teeth that filled her smile.Her eyes were alive. Color rushed into her face as she talked to me.
"This is what I like to do,"I said.
"How long you paint?"
"Nine years."
"Only nine years. This is remarkable."
"You take lessons?"
"I'm self taught."
"This is remarkable,"she exclaimed."You have a gift."
"Thank you very much."
She sparkled as she was talking.
The bell rang for the class to end. As the kids filed out the door,Miss Guzman looked again at the painting of Pancho Villa.
"I really like this one,"she said.
I told her that I hoped to see her around campus again. As she walked away I was wishing that she would let me paint her face someday.






