Lost in Translation

As I was teaching a kindergarten art class, I was helping the students finish a drawing of things that they like.

A boy would ask me how to draw a football. I would demonstrate how to on the board. A little girl would ask me how to draw a bike. It would be drawn on the board. Before I knew it, the board was covered with small drawings used as examples for the students.

As I walked through the class, a boy from India raised his hand and waited patiently for me to get to him.

When I got to him, he said with a strong Indian accent, “I cannot write this dinosaur.”

He was still new to the English language. I tried to understand what he was trying to say.

“Excuse me,” I said.

“I cannot write this dinosaur,” he said again, waiting on me to help him with his request.

“One more time,” I still had not caught what he said.

Again, “I cannot write this dinosaur,” he said looking up at me.

“You cannot write it?” I really wanted to help him, but I didn't understand.

“Yes. I cannot write it,” he said again matter-of-factly.

I looked around at the other students for help as to what he was saying. The other students were busy finishing their drawings. Finally, I remembered that I had drawn a triceratops on the board for another student earlier in the class period.

“Oh. This?” I ask moving to the board and pointing to the dinosaur.

“Yes. I cannot write it,” he said happy that I finally understood.

“I gotcha. You cannot draw this dinosaur. Is that what you mean?” I ask him. “You cannot draw it?”

“Yes. I cannot write it.”

We’ll work on that.