*snip snip snip*

[ajnabieh]

I hate, hate, hate cutting things. Hate it. I'm assuming those of you who write recognize the feeling at least a little. I especially hate cutting bits I like, when they no longer fit the tone or structure of the piece they're in. Sometimes they're beautiful, or funny, or meaningful, but they just have to go.

Hey, I guess that's what having a blog is for.

This used to be in the fourth chapter of my dissertation, as the introduction to a subsection on my fieldwork teaching ESL in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn.

I got the question every time I started working with a new group of students, and this day was no exception. "Where you from?" Wilad asked, as I put the children's book I'd been using to teach colors and clothing back in my purse.

I used to answer that question with "Kensington," my Brooklyn neighborhood, or "Philadelphia," my hometown. But that's never the question they're asking. "I'm American," I say.

"You husband 'arabi?"

I thought of my wife, with her Jewish last name, who was at home with our six-month-old son. "No," I say. "My husband's not Arab."

(Linguistic note: Arabic lacks a copulative verb [i.e., to be] in the present tense. Native speakers of Arabic learning English often drop them as well. In my fieldnotes and writing, I try to preserve syntax where I can, because I think how we talk matters.)

OK, now back to the exciting task of finishing my damn dissertation this weekend. *makes more tea*