4ESO

It was Patri's birthday! 

(Patri is in the green in the front of the group. 

Sadly, the picture did not come out great because it was taken in the world's most sunny classroom.)

So we didn't do anything for, literally, all class. Instead we hung out, sang a beautiful rendition of Happy Birthday, by which I mean it was certainly... boisterous, but also horrifically off-key. Did I mention boisterous? Also, one of the chicas brought in a cake. And by cake, I mean a tupperware container filled with what appeared to be pudding, with cookies scattered throughout. If only I were kidding. ONE WORD, NIÑOS: FUNFETTI.

So during "class", we somehow started talking about smoking cigarettes. I managed to get the class to a somewhat manageable level of noise, and asked for whoever had not tried a cigarette in their entire lives to raise their hands. (These kids are 15-16 years old.) Myself, one chica, and one chico all raised their hands. Immediately, the entire class turned on the chica, calling her a liar. Finally, she put her hand back down. Then they turn to the boy, who defended himself valiantly, saying that the only time he tried it was in Madrid, so it doesn't count. A respectable effort, but still. Joder. I told them next class we were going to talk about cancer.

If you have read my previous posts and been like, whoa, who were the punks who kept talking about joining the Latin Kings and dropping the N word? Here you are, the delightful gentlemen of 4S3. Lucky for me, I have found a way to entertain them, the two boys on the left will talk my head off about soccer, the one all the way to the right is disillusioned enough to think that the Lakers are the best basketball team in America, and the second one to the right? He's a mess. But we talk about whatever. Like him trying to quit smoking and me refusing to buy him firearms. We get along okay.