‘Tengo. La tengo. Yo querero. ...

‘Tengo. La tengo. Yo querero. And la quiero, ‘ they said, trying it every possible way.

A few minutes after school let out Monday afternoon and Sepulveda Junior High emptied, six girls assembled in the classroom of a math, science and aviation instructor named Peter McClosky.

Most of them were 10 years old. The oldest was 13. They came to sharpen their minds on deductive logic.

The after-school class is given by the Gifted Children’s Assn. of the San Fernando Valley. The organization was started 25 years ago to assist parents of gifted children and supplement the programs offered by the public schools.

Ordinarily, McClosky said, he would put his students through games called Mind Benders.

They go something like this:

“Atley, Bradley, Cursen and Drake are the married names of Kermit, Leonard, Marlene and Norma.

“Drake is Bradley’s sister. Cursen is Atley’s brother. Norma and Drake are not related. Kermit is a year older than Bradley. Find the full name of each person.”

But on this day he gave them a break and let them watch television.

It wasn’t just for fun. He expected to hear some critical evaluation.

McClosky, a rotund and intense-looking young man, put a cassette in his VCR and turned on a school district TV. There was no sound. He slapped the top of the TV several times. The sound came on.

“Very scientific method of fixing the TV,” he said with a smile.

He had chosen a “Nova” program that debunks the belief in a mysterious force that destroys airplanes and ships in the Caribbean Sea.

The program showed snips of a film called “The Devil’s Triangle” in which three authors told their theories on several well-documented mishaps at sea.

In it, Vincent Price narrated the story of a pleasure boat that disappeared one night.

“Even though the missing boat was last heard of in an area lit by the glowing lights of Miami Beach, it was still in the Devil’s Triangle,” Price said at his mysterious best.

A scholarly researcher then attacked the story. He was a little heavy-handed.

“Some people like to drink from the fountain of knowledge, and others just like to gargle,” he said. “I think we’re becoming a world of garglers.”

The girls didn’t seem to need the editorializing. Occasionally McClosky stopped the tape and let them pick holes in the story before the narrator did.

“Is there a contradiction yet?” he asked about the boat that disappeared in view of Miami. “Can anybody catch a contradiction?”

“He said there was no location,” 10-year-old Jessica Huntley said. “That other man said they were at buoy No. 7.” McClosky said, nodding.

Another tale of a boat’s disappearance ended with a fade-out of seagulls in flight.

“Very interesting,” McClosky said. “Here’s a ship that’s sailing along. What do we know about the weather?”

“Nothing,” six small voices responded.

“Just a ship that was surrounded by danger,” McClosky said. “And it mysteriously sank, right?”

“Nope,” the voices said.

One of the girls noted that the film implied that the weather was calm without saying so.

“It looked like it was nice and clear because of all the birds,” she said.

“Look at all the birds,” McClosky said. “Do birds fly around like that in a storm?”

“No,” the girls said.

McClosky started the tape to let the narrator tell that the boat disappeared “in near-hurricane winds and the worst winter storm in Florida’s history.”

“What is the point of what the author is trying to do?” McClosky asked.

“The writer is trying to get a mystery. Trying to exaggerate,” Jessica said.

“Why do you think that is so?” McClosky asked.

“Because they would make a lot of money with their book,” another girl said with a grin.

No garglers in this group.

On Tuesday at Dixie Canyon Elementary School in Sherman Oaks, a group of gifted students too young for deductive reasoning had been brought by their parents to study Spanish in a setting where a foreign language is probably best learned, the kitchen .

The day’s lesson was on how to ask for food at the table and how to make tortillas.

Before class, instructor Lourdes Montano and assistant Ray Burkland sliced up some strawberries, bananas, apples, oranges and pineapple.

Four boys and two girls sat at the table and eyed the fruit.

“Have you been talking to your housekeeper?” Montano asked kindergartner Jeffrey Miller.

“Yeah,” he said. Mantano said Miller’s housekeeper doesn’t speak English and the boy wouldn’t have anything to do with her until he started learning Spanish.

“You’re going to have to ask for the fruits in Spanish,” Mantano said.

“La pina. La platano. La manzana, “ they said in a chorus.

“I forgot what oranges are, but I want some,” a boy in a blue shirt said.

“How about ‘I want?’ ” Mantano asked. “Does anybody remember how to say it?”

“Tengo, “ second-grader Katherine Fenelon volunteered.

“No, ‘tengo’ is ‘I have,’ ” Mantano said. “Yo quiero. “

Pretty soon the students were all asking at once. “Tengo. La tengo. Yo querero. And la quiero, “ they said, trying it every possible way. But they all spoke Spanish. And they all ate fruit, especially la pina.

Then Mantano opened a bag labeled “Masa Harina de Maiz. “

“Dos copas de agua, “ she said, holding up a measuring cup. “Does anybody know what I want.”

The boy in the blue shirt raised his hand.

But another boy grabbed the cup and went to the faucet. “Two cups of water,” he said.

“He interrupted me,” the first boy said.

“Have to be fast in this world,” Mantano said.

Mantano started kneading the dough in a bowl.

She handed out pats and showed the students how to flatten them between their palms.

Making good tortillas is tricky. So from there on, the class spoke English.

Mantano said the idea is mainly to whet the appetite for another language and another culture.

And maybe Jeffrey can now help his housekeeper around the kitchen, too.