So, due to my excessive amount of stress over my upcoming camp interviews, resident adviser interview results, school work, and just regular happenstances, I have not been the most jolly person to be around. Everything has been irking me, especially my classes, which seemed to have no tie-in to my future career as a high school English teacher/ therapeutic-hiker-camp-counselor-Peace-Corps-person-thing.
Also, due to my easily annoyed demeanor, I keep arguing with one of my roommates, which is a super bad outlet for my stress. Last night, we were discussing whether or not teachers should have to learn Spanish (since one of my goals in life is to move to Arizona). After being woe-is-every-culture/race-that-isn't- WASP-ed to death in my Intercultural Communications class, I was not in the mood to hear it again
,especially when it wasn't for a grade. So we got into it, until one of my other roommates distracted us.
Unfortunately for me, in my Queer Literature Studies class we are currently reading
Borderlands/La Frontera by Gloria Anzaldua, half of which is...wait for it...EN ESPA
ñOL. Lovely. Karma definitely exists in the world.
I learned my lesson.
Chicano culture has been around for a long long time. In fact, they could be considered Native Americans (if we were looking at North America as a whole). Intriguing stuff. Plus, maybe it's the English teacher in me, but hearing about their struggles in literature form puts them in a new and more poignant light. Here's an excerpt from our reading. Sorry that it's different sizes, that's what I get for screen shot-ing the poem from a PDF.
Just some literature for thought.
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