On Fridays, I meet a woman at a coffee shop and we talk for an hour. She’s got a full-time professional job, two kids, etc., etc. Whole Language be damned, she says, this class is part English and part therapy.
Last week, she came rushing in, grabbed a macchiato and flumped into a chair. While apologising for being late, she took a sip of her coffee. “HIJO DE PUTA!”
Immediately, she looked at me, stricken with guilt. “I sorry. I know dat word in English but I did not say eet. I say eet now.” She dropped her voice to a whisper and glared at her cup. “Motherfucker. Dat coffee ees strong.”