My students were trading player cards for weeks. "Waka Waka" and "Wavin' Flag" played from every corner. I didn't even have to switch my brain to Spanish to understand that every lunch conversation was about teams, players, and June 11 plans.
Something woke me up early on Friday morning. Perhaps it was the static excitement in the air. Perhaps it was the fireworks exploding every five minutes. Perhaps it was just indigestion. I donned a Mexico T-shirt and ate my Raisin Bran in front of the opening ceremonies before heading out into a traffic-free street.
At school mothers escorted their children in, carrying "extra" TVs nicer than any my family has ever owned. Before I had even unlocked my classroom door, students were thrusting a stick of face paint into my hands. In several minutes, a child's TV was hooked up, the snack bar was running, and the room had been transformed into a stadium. I only had nine of 27 students show, and my partner only had 11, so we combined our groups and tag-teamed the day.
During library (where my students also watched the game), I joined the older grades and most of the teachers in the auditorium. There, the game played on a large screen and students ran in circles when Mexico scored. A few teachers led the room in cheers.
Since that game, I've watched several others, most of them at a sports bar with coworkers. Honestly, I don't care a bit about soccer. I don't care if Italy wins the World Cup. I don't care of Slovakia wins the World Cup. Heck, if Canada had a team, I wouldn't even care if they won the World Cup. Still, I'm soaking in this experience. I may never again live in a place that cares about this tournament. May as well enjoy it while I have the chance, eh? So for now, Vamos Mexico!
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