Hi everyone!
We have to make a distincion between the official hours of the "encuentros de conversacion" and the Chatterbox Club. The "encuentros de conversacion" must be held inside el Lenguitas or in the patio outside, and the Chatterbox Club can take place anywhere.
The "un-official" hours of the Chatterbox Club from Wednesday, June 24 until July 8th:
Wednesdays from 4pm to 6pm, meeting in front of the institution.
The "official" hours of the "Encuentros de Conversacion" which will be held inside el Lenguitas:
Tuesdays 12-13 hours in el Lenguitas (meet upstairs in the common area)
Thursdays 17-18 hours in el Lenguitas (meet upstairs in the common area)
One exception: Tuesday, June 30th, I will be unable to come to the conversation club because of a meeting.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Chatter Box Club June 10, 2009
to have strength in numbers- to have the majority, to have many people
to pull (something, it) off- zarpar
zipper- encierre
to break down- to lose control emotionally, cry
one way street- una calle de una mano
to go through- revisar
cardboard- carton
to declare a major- to choose a specialty in college or university
in a nutshell- to say something briefly
birth certificate- partida de nacimiento
to flash (someone)- to expose ones private parts to someone else (!)
to moon (someone)- to expose ones butt to someone
at the drop of a hat- easily and quickly
to pull (something, it) off- zarpar
zipper- encierre
to break down- to lose control emotionally, cry
one way street- una calle de una mano
to go through- revisar
cardboard- carton
to declare a major- to choose a specialty in college or university
in a nutshell- to say something briefly
birth certificate- partida de nacimiento
to flash (someone)- to expose ones private parts to someone else (!)
to moon (someone)- to expose ones butt to someone
at the drop of a hat- easily and quickly
ChatterBox Club June 9th, 2009
Talleres- workshops
circuitos- circuits
trabajo practico- group project
dead center- right in the middle
dead on- exactly right
by and large, for the most part- most commonly
To be in ones' element- to feel completely at ease and doing something you succeed at
I don't know if I should/ I was wondering if I should- Tengo una duda
To be cut out for something- to be made to do something (work, talent, etc.)
circuitos- circuits
trabajo practico- group project
dead center- right in the middle
dead on- exactly right
by and large, for the most part- most commonly
To be in ones' element- to feel completely at ease and doing something you succeed at
I don't know if I should/ I was wondering if I should- Tengo una duda
To be cut out for something- to be made to do something (work, talent, etc.)
Thursday, June 4, 2009
If I had a Million Dollars
Here is a link to a youtube video of a cover of the Bare Naked Ladies song, "If I had a Million Dollars." It's a good way to practice the "If..., then...." sentence structure.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cbyVUP9TQLw
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cbyVUP9TQLw
Vocabulary from the First Week at Conversation Club
1. food court- patio de comidas
2. to (not) have ones ducks in a row- no tiene los patitos en fila
3. news programs- noticeros
4. slave driver- someone who is very controlling and makes you do something even if you don't want to do it.
5. first and foremost- first and most importantly
6. it was smooth sailing- when something happened very easily
7. that would suck- if that happened, it would be unfortunate
8. skinny jeans- chupines
9. to transfer credits- hacer equivalencia
10. degree- titulo
11. My friend ditched me- Mi amiga me planto
12. To hang out with someone- to pass time with someone
13. to be flaky- to not be responsible
2. to (not) have ones ducks in a row- no tiene los patitos en fila
3. news programs- noticeros
4. slave driver- someone who is very controlling and makes you do something even if you don't want to do it.
5. first and foremost- first and most importantly
6. it was smooth sailing- when something happened very easily
7. that would suck- if that happened, it would be unfortunate
8. skinny jeans- chupines
9. to transfer credits- hacer equivalencia
10. degree- titulo
11. My friend ditched me- Mi amiga me planto
12. To hang out with someone- to pass time with someone
13. to be flaky- to not be responsible
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Friday, May 29, 2009
Wood Chuck
How much wood could a woodchuck chuck
if a woodchuck could chuck wood?
A woochuck would chuck lots of wood
if a woodchuck could chuck wood.
if a woodchuck could chuck wood?
A woochuck would chuck lots of wood
if a woodchuck could chuck wood.
ChatterBox Club Structure
Interactive/Communicative game:
Human knot, scar game, animal game, etc.
Loosening up our mouths: Tongue Twisters
How much wood would a woodchuck chuck
if a woodchuck could chuck wood?
He would chuck, he would, as much as he could,
and chuck as much wood as a woodchuck would
if a woodchuck could chuck wood.
Theme: To overcome barriers within language comprehension, cultural understanding, music, perception of the natural world and any other topic!
Hat (with ideas or thoughts of the day):
Goals:
What would you like to accomplish with these conversation clubs? This club is for you, so as we continue meeting, what I will do is ask you how we are doing as a group to meet your goals.
Response/Reaction/Criticisms of lesson:
In order to assess how I am meeting your goals, I will ask you to write a 5-minute response at the end of each meeting to let me know what you liked, what you didn't like, and what other ideas/suggestions you have for the improvements of the clubs.
Inspirational Quote:
We will always close the club with some kind of inspirational quote to keep us going through the day!
Human knot, scar game, animal game, etc.
Loosening up our mouths: Tongue Twisters
How much wood would a woodchuck chuck
if a woodchuck could chuck wood?
He would chuck, he would, as much as he could,
and chuck as much wood as a woodchuck would
if a woodchuck could chuck wood.
Theme: To overcome barriers within language comprehension, cultural understanding, music, perception of the natural world and any other topic!
Hat (with ideas or thoughts of the day):
Goals:
What would you like to accomplish with these conversation clubs? This club is for you, so as we continue meeting, what I will do is ask you how we are doing as a group to meet your goals.
Response/Reaction/Criticisms of lesson:
In order to assess how I am meeting your goals, I will ask you to write a 5-minute response at the end of each meeting to let me know what you liked, what you didn't like, and what other ideas/suggestions you have for the improvements of the clubs.
Inspirational Quote:
We will always close the club with some kind of inspirational quote to keep us going through the day!
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Clubbing in Buenos Aires
Last night my English roomates and I went to a bar called Museum. I envisioned a more stately affair, replete with butlers/curators showing off traveling disco mania exhibits and offering crustless sandwiches. I expected a coat check where they would call me madame and compliment my grandmothers silver broach that I wore tied up in my hair. I expected women in dainty white gloves and dapper gentlemen in shirt tails and shiny cuff links. I anticipated being fanned and lavished upon by rapturous argentines as I recounted, in my impeccable Spanish, my opinion of the current economic crisis and possible solutions. They would occasionally offer, of course, to bring me another drink which I would obviously decline since no lady should ever be caught drunk in a Museum.
Why would you call a club a "Museum" if not to insinuate such things? If you want to have a sweaty warehouse with half-naked women massaging their breasts and clean-shaven creepers sidling up to any moving target with only pick up lines and pungent cologne to warn of the incoming attack, why not call the place something (anything!) other than Museum?!
Museums are places of higher learning, of expanding ones grasp of the world and once I realized there would not be attractive men dropping grapes into my mouth while expounding on the history of the founding of Rio de la Plata (and telling me how beautiful and goddess like I was), I felt a little jilted.
Well, I guess the case could be argued that it was a species of experiential education, like one of those anxiety-filled "choose your own adventure" novels in which one must frantically choose between fording across a pack of recently awoken abominable snow men or delve head first into a lava pit with only an icy-hot pack to protect from the blistering heat. A lesson in survival, really.
We weren't wrestling yetti's nor crossing volcanos, but it felt every bit like an extreme sport. Maeve, Flora and I set ourselves up in a circle, dancing, at first, very subdued so as not to call attention to ourselves. I have often read how the female of a species, such as a duck, are physically nondescript and tend to blend like wallflowers into their natural habitat to avoid the onslaught of predators. Natural selection has encouraged this process- if the ducks were found out by the wily fox sniffing around below their nest, next years ducks or peacocks would dissapear in a whirl of stomach acid and saliva and then what?
For us, the solution was the same (or so we thought) though the problem was inverted. Our prerogative was not procreation (though the men seemed to ardently believe it so), but rather freedom to be disconnected from any life cycle or mating ritual. To be in stop-time and escape our own image, the compatibility of male and female anatomy, to be a formless amoeba undulating anonymously to ABBA on the dance floor. So we wriggled cautiously, attempting to blend into our natural habitat of strobe lights and lithe bodies. I think we must have done an unconvincing job of it because soon we were no longer dancing but fending for out lives as the foxes descended. Any and all evasive tactics were fair game- errant elbows, foot stomps, swinging fists that we pretended, in our dancing queen ecstasy, to lose control over and catapult accidentally into the fast approaching crotches of an annoyingly loafer-ed Fabio. We soon realized that blending in was not only ineffective, but inspired the exact response we had hoped to avoid. Puzzled, it took a few more Jack and cokes and a minor mid-boogie tumble for us to realize that if you really want to be left alone, dance like a complete idiot.
Soon we were busting out moves we wouldn't even try in the privacy of our own homes, sashaying and MC Hammering and air guitar-ing our way to freedom. I guess our night at the museum wasn't so devoid of useful knowledge after all.
Why would you call a club a "Museum" if not to insinuate such things? If you want to have a sweaty warehouse with half-naked women massaging their breasts and clean-shaven creepers sidling up to any moving target with only pick up lines and pungent cologne to warn of the incoming attack, why not call the place something (anything!) other than Museum?!
Museums are places of higher learning, of expanding ones grasp of the world and once I realized there would not be attractive men dropping grapes into my mouth while expounding on the history of the founding of Rio de la Plata (and telling me how beautiful and goddess like I was), I felt a little jilted.
Well, I guess the case could be argued that it was a species of experiential education, like one of those anxiety-filled "choose your own adventure" novels in which one must frantically choose between fording across a pack of recently awoken abominable snow men or delve head first into a lava pit with only an icy-hot pack to protect from the blistering heat. A lesson in survival, really.
We weren't wrestling yetti's nor crossing volcanos, but it felt every bit like an extreme sport. Maeve, Flora and I set ourselves up in a circle, dancing, at first, very subdued so as not to call attention to ourselves. I have often read how the female of a species, such as a duck, are physically nondescript and tend to blend like wallflowers into their natural habitat to avoid the onslaught of predators. Natural selection has encouraged this process- if the ducks were found out by the wily fox sniffing around below their nest, next years ducks or peacocks would dissapear in a whirl of stomach acid and saliva and then what?
For us, the solution was the same (or so we thought) though the problem was inverted. Our prerogative was not procreation (though the men seemed to ardently believe it so), but rather freedom to be disconnected from any life cycle or mating ritual. To be in stop-time and escape our own image, the compatibility of male and female anatomy, to be a formless amoeba undulating anonymously to ABBA on the dance floor. So we wriggled cautiously, attempting to blend into our natural habitat of strobe lights and lithe bodies. I think we must have done an unconvincing job of it because soon we were no longer dancing but fending for out lives as the foxes descended. Any and all evasive tactics were fair game- errant elbows, foot stomps, swinging fists that we pretended, in our dancing queen ecstasy, to lose control over and catapult accidentally into the fast approaching crotches of an annoyingly loafer-ed Fabio. We soon realized that blending in was not only ineffective, but inspired the exact response we had hoped to avoid. Puzzled, it took a few more Jack and cokes and a minor mid-boogie tumble for us to realize that if you really want to be left alone, dance like a complete idiot.
Soon we were busting out moves we wouldn't even try in the privacy of our own homes, sashaying and MC Hammering and air guitar-ing our way to freedom. I guess our night at the museum wasn't so devoid of useful knowledge after all.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
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