My People
Yesterday I went to Loehmann's Plaza for a special series of tests on my eyes. My eye doctor wanted me to have these tests because I have a kinky (as in kinked) optical nerve and a family history of Glaucoma--mother, and both of her parents. The testing process consisted of patching one eye and then the other, and staring at a red light while using a clicker to indicate when you see a light flash. The light could be small, large, dim or bright and it moves all over your peripheral vision. It was challenging to keep my eye on the red light and not look at the flashes. The doctor, who turned out to be Greek like me, told me that there are new predictors of Glaucoma besides tension checks and it can be controlled far earlier than years ago. This wasn't something I wanted to hear. I've solidly refused to believe I could get Glaucoma. I don't want it, so I won't get it. The tests she did indicated that I have a more than average chance to get glaucoma in ten years, and that I should be screened every six months rather than once a year. So now I have something else to worry about. What else is new?
The funny part of the experience was that when she heard I was looking for a preschool job she gave me the contact information for St. Katherine's Greek Orthodox Church Pedia School (children's). "Talk to Sophia", she told me. I called the church and was told by a man with a Greek accent that Sophia was at lunch (it was three pm) and would be back around four. So I called again at four and the man with the accent (custodian? priest?) said he'd take my number. There was a TV playing in the background, and he had trouble hearing me so he spoke very loudly and asked for each number, repeating them after me. I laughed. I had entered a familiar but different world, the world of my people. When Sophia called me, she sounded like every Greek lady I had known as a child. Her voice was high and sweet, her accent pronounced. I told her I was a teacher of Greek descent and that I had a Master's in Education. I had heard from this doctor she knew personally that I should call her. Her first question for a possible teacher was, in retrospect, inevitable: "Do you spik Grik?" Uh, not fluently, I stammered (not really I thought). "I don know if there's an opening. I call you when I know." She was about to hang up when I sputtered, "Can I send you my resume? What's your email address?" She dictated the address and I listened attentively, putting on my Greek accent ears from childhood to hear, and we hung up. I sent the email with the attached resume immediately. It came back to me. Not deliverable. How could I have forgotten? In the other, familiar world, this is how things are.
The funny part of the experience was that when she heard I was looking for a preschool job she gave me the contact information for St. Katherine's Greek Orthodox Church Pedia School (children's). "Talk to Sophia", she told me. I called the church and was told by a man with a Greek accent that Sophia was at lunch (it was three pm) and would be back around four. So I called again at four and the man with the accent (custodian? priest?) said he'd take my number. There was a TV playing in the background, and he had trouble hearing me so he spoke very loudly and asked for each number, repeating them after me. I laughed. I had entered a familiar but different world, the world of my people. When Sophia called me, she sounded like every Greek lady I had known as a child. Her voice was high and sweet, her accent pronounced. I told her I was a teacher of Greek descent and that I had a Master's in Education. I had heard from this doctor she knew personally that I should call her. Her first question for a possible teacher was, in retrospect, inevitable: "Do you spik Grik?" Uh, not fluently, I stammered (not really I thought). "I don know if there's an opening. I call you when I know." She was about to hang up when I sputtered, "Can I send you my resume? What's your email address?" She dictated the address and I listened attentively, putting on my Greek accent ears from childhood to hear, and we hung up. I sent the email with the attached resume immediately. It came back to me. Not deliverable. How could I have forgotten? In the other, familiar world, this is how things are.
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