A game of Scrabble

On this dreary Tuesday with not much happening at all, I got an email from "Coolest Prerna," my student from India: "I AM VERY HAPPY WITH NEW VOLUNTEERS HOTHECK. HE IS A COOL BOY BUT NOT TEACHING LIKE YOU."

I thought about our last class in December.

On our last day, I scrapped our usual agenda of vocabulary, sentence completions, and skits. Instead we pulled out an American board game favorite: Scrabble. My students hadn't ever played Scrabble before, hadn't played it in Hindi and definitely not in English.





BUT.





As sure as I could barely explain the directions, you could not tell this group they could not win at Scrabble. Competition is global. After a quick demonstration of pulling out tiles, arranging them on the board, they were all about "Ma'am, please," their polite way of saying "Let's get this game going.





So we did. With newspapers, notes and the ocassional hint from me, we covered the board with both basic and complicated English words. Shalish and Prerna skimmed the newspaper for words (when Prerna wasn't distracted by the gleaming picture of gorgeous movie star John Abraham). Intent on winning, Prem and Kavita studied their class notes and fussed around with the tiles in front of them. Dharamjeet and his buddy who just dropped in for the day pestered me silly until I taunted them as weaklings. For a guy who plans to enter the Indian army, that was all the motivation he needed. They got busy digging in the tile bag, and monitored the board carefully.





All were particularly thrilled by the discovery of "Double Letter" and "Triple Word" score options. Scores were tallied furiously, and Hindi numbers thrown around with abandon. I forget the winning words, but I think Dharamjeet took the lead with a skillful use of bonus points, and a few existing words. He jumped up and saluted the board, celebrating his triumph. Only studious Prem was disappointed at his loss.





We took a few pictures, and Prem gave me a bunch of flowers whose buds were dotted with lights that blinked at the flick of a switch. In his farewell, Dharamjeet reached to touch my feet, the traditional gesture of respect to elders. In that instant, I began to miss them.





I'm glad the new volunteers are keeping up with my students. Not really mine, but still mine. I'd love to meet him and share stories, monitor their progress. And remind him that they love to play Scrabble.