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The Spanish Summer
Submitted by Helen Bridge
Chabot College
If you were on campus during the summer of 1986, maybe you remember
the unusual guests who spent their mornings learning English during
Summer Session at Chabot College. Along with their bilingual
teacher, thirty one students from Spain came to Hayward
 to increase
their mastery of the English language, and at the same time, to
learn something about America. It was my good luck to be their
English teacher, and also to share my home with their young teacher
from Spain. Each of the students was housed by a local resident, who
brought them to school each weekday and picked them up after class
or after one of their many field trips. The students were curious
about America, of course, and also very candid in their opinions.
Not all of those opinions were complimentary. For example, they
declared early on, Americans are too nationalistic and know little
about the rest of the world.
Working on English speech with
these special students was both challenging and fun. Their Spanish
teacher, Salud Palacios, was bright and engaging, and she kept our
rambunctious charges on the right path. Lessons were stringent but
occasionally playful. She suggested many field trips and accompanied
them on their bus trips. I usually went along as well. Among other
places, we showed them the Livermore Lab, the Santa Cruz boardwalk,
the Capital in Sacramento, PineCrest Lake in the Sierras with a
swim, and the Napa Valley without wine tasting. At the lab, they had
the chance to meet Edward Teller. In Napa, we ended up, after a loud
and insistent outcry by everybody on the bus, at a place far off the
scheduled itinerary. They wanted to see the winery where “Falcon
Crest” was filmed. That cheesy TV series was evidently as popular in
Spain as it was in the U.S.
Another thing our young visitors
insisted in doing was going to see the current mega movie in
theaters that summer. A young Tom Cruise was starring in “Top Gun”
at a local movie house, so after classes one day, all of us went to
see it. The Spaniards, both boys and girls, just loved It. They
loved the dog fights in the skies and the competition to become Top
Gun. They loved the American scenery and the aircraft carrier. They
did think, however, that Tom was too macho and cocky, and that he
was way too short for Kelly McGillis to really fall for. As we left
the theater, I remember one young guy rolling his eyes, saying
something in his halting English like, “Americans really think
they’re the center of the universe, don’t they?”
One weekend
afternoon, my husband and I had a birthday party for one of the
young men. There was swimming in our backyard pool, lots of Marko
Polo games, and general rowdy tomfoolery before an early evening
buffet meal which Salad and I had prepared. When our young charges
saw me filling my plate with the assorted dishes, they stopped to
stare incredulously. They let me know, quite vocally, that in Spain,
only one item is put on the plate at a time. You eat it, they said,
then take another item. No mixing of food! Only gauche Americans do
that. They also complained about the fact that they had to return to
host homes and be in bed by around 11 PM. In Spain, they reminded us
regularly, they had a better daily schedule. Workers stay on the job
until 8 P.M., with a long rest time in the middle of the day. Rest
time outs are normal for young people as well. After work, though,
it’s time for everyone to go out for tapas and drinks and late
evening activities. NOBODY goes to bed as early as 11 PM, they said.
They also were astounded to hear that my husband and I didn’t have
any servants to cook and clean up. Everybody, they seemed to think,
would have servants if they had a nice home, just as they do in
Spain.
By the time they went back to Spain, the students
finally seemed to realize what a special summer they had
experienced. Their host families had done additional things for
them, they had learned quite a bit of English, and seen many special
places in California. For me, the best part was that I had made a
lifelong friend. Salud and I corresponded after she went back to
Spain, and when she returned to the US the following year, she
stopped in the Bay Area before traveling on to Southern California.
We picked her up at the airport in San Francisco. We were joined by
my grown daughter and her good buddy, a pleasant young guy named
Kenny. He and Salud seemed to hit it off immediately. They drove up
with us to our mountain cabin a few days later, and the two of them
sat up all night, talking in the loft upstairs. They quickly fell in
love, and married a few months later. My husband walked Salud down
the aisle, and I stood up with her in place of her mother. We felt
honored to be part of that lovely ceremony. A few years later, they
also had a formal wedding in a beautiful Catholic church in Spain.
All these things happened over a quarter century ago. Salud and
her family now live in a lovely home in Roseville. She and Kenny
have two children, and the oldest one, a son, just graduated from
high school with outstanding grades and a great future. Their
daughter is bright and beautiful and bilingual, just like her
brother. And in another surprising development, Salud’s sister came
over from Spain one summer a few years after Salud’s wedding. She
met Kenny’s brother, stayed here, and now they are married as well.
I don’t see the family nearly as often as I’d like to, but I’m still
thrilled to think that a special summer teaching assignment at
Chabot turned out so well for so many people.
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