Teaching has begun...

October 3, 2006

6:50 PM

There are moments, unforgettable ones, when you are smacked in the face with reality (good and bad). I know that I love the use of this word “reality” these days, but it is really the best way to describe these moments when the world around me suddenly becomes, well, real. The most recent event occurred today as I sat for the good part of ten hours at my school watching/taking part in the ‘Fall Holiday’ festivities Every grade at my school (1-11) is split into two groups (“a” and “b”) that have about fifteen to twenty students in each group.

Today, each group, starting at 10:00 AM, put on their own presentation in honor of the ‘Fall Holiday.’ About half way through the day I realized that the presentation was being judged by a panel (I thought the panel was seriously part of the show). Each presentation was required to have seven components: 1) Opening presentation (costumes and speeches), 2) Poetry reading/Manas Epic recitation, 3) A song, 4) Dancing, 5) Play/Skit, 6) Food and Flower presentation, 7) Overall Performance. I sat there for the first part of the day honestly lost. I watched as class after class walked on to stage and did their thing (90% of which I couldn’t understand, which added to the confusion). By 2:00 PM we had made it to through the first eight grades and I was starving, confused, and considering heading back home to just hang out for the rest of the day. But in true Kyrgyz fashion, I was suddenly whisked away by all of the teachers with the most popular phrase in the Kyrgyz language: “Чай Ич!” (Chai Each)—the Kyrgyz phrase for everything from a tea break to a full meal. But no matter which it was going to be, I knew there would be food, and a chance for me ask to a ton of broken Kyrgyz questions to the staff.

***Speaking of ‘Чай Ич’, it’s time for dinner, I will return in a little bit and get to my moment of realization.***


October 4, 2006

6:30 AM

Ok, so I lied, I ate dinner, and then I was really tired, so I went to bed. But I am back and now ready to continue my discussion!

So I am herded into a classroom that has been converted into a small buffet for the teachers. I make into to the room and seemingly simultaneously I hear another Kyrgyz favorite, “Жейсон, Отур!” (Jason, Otur), which literally means: Jason, Sit! As we move into the eating and things calm down a bit, my counterpart arrives (she speaks English), and I am able to ask a ton of questions about the fall festivities. Essentially, my village is still a very big farming town, and the Fall harvest holds a lot of significance. I found out that there will be a few more “holidays” during October so that the students may head off and help their parent’s harvest. The celebration the school held was long running tradition and seemed to be the highlight of the first quarter for the students who put in a ton of effort on their presentations.

So as I am moving back and forth between asking questions, answering questions, listening to the others talk (and grasping parts of sentences I know), I find myself talking with the schools’ Kyrgyz teacher (intimidating, to say the least, when your Kyrgyz is horrible). He then catches me off guard with a very patient and steady approach to his conversation with me. He allows me time to pick the words I know and ask about the words I don’t. We talk for about ten minutes about everything from Ramadan to World War II, America to Kyrgyzstan. After a very cool conversation, he then asks, with the approval of the other teachers, if I would like to sit on the panel of judges for the final events of the evening (it was 4:30 PM by then). I tentatively agree, and follow them back to the auditorium where grades 8-11 are setting up. The second we arrive, I realize that this is the “real” competition of the day, and the competition that crowns the Fall Holiday champions.

The competition begins and I am now sitting on the panel of judges, and then suddenly it hits me. I start to scan the room and the noise seems to fade out a bit. I glance from students to teachers, children to adults and in that moment my mind is entirely free of thought except for where I am at. I realize that I am the only non-Kyrgyz person in the room of two-hundred plus and, at this moment, I am not the object of attention. I was simply there to participate as everyone else was. This was the first time since I have been in my village where my being there was not an anomaly to the situation; I was just another member of the crowd. I know I still have a long way to go before this can happen in my everyday life here. I have a lot of conversations to be had (where are you from? Are you married? Where are you going? Etc.) and a lot of people to meet before I am accepted in this village and school.

But it was during the celebration that I really saw the possibilities of what my life could become here. I saw the reality of me living here, in a foreign country (a dream come true), for the next two years. The future seemed to be opening its’ arms to me and welcoming me to join her, to take a step into the reality of what I came here for. I was sitting in my “judge’s” chair and watching, what at first seemed like organized chaos, become something beautiful; an odd parallel to most of my time here so far. Adjusting to this new culture was not that difficult during PST (Pillow Softened Training or Pre-Service Training). We are sheltered and cushioned during training to allow us to “adjust” to life in a foreign country through panels and handouts. Don’t get me wrong, PST did it’s best to prepare us for our roles as PCVs. But the second I arrived here in my village, adjustment took on an entirely new meaning. I am doing more than adjusting, I am trying to integrate. This cannot be explained in a panel, read in a hand out, or written on a poster board. Integration must be done in person and must come with the struggles of reality. I now live a life where organized chaos is my norm and some of my best lessons come from taking a step back, watching and allowing myself to grow. I now live a life that I know will be a struggle, and I love it. I live in a foreign country, I am learning a foreign language, and I am teaching; it’s a blessing to have a dream come true for many people, I just happen to have three coming true at once.


October 5, 2006

6:58 AM

It just doesn’t stop, I love it.

Yesterday my school celebrated National Teacher’s Day (it was on Saturday). After a day of morning of classes (and some unexpected twisting of the class schedule), I walked with one of the other teachers to a house on the edge of town.

(Side note really quick: I didn’t find out that almost every teacher at the school stopped by my house to make sure I knew how to get there and, until we all sat down for dinner, did not know this. I truly have a family at the school, a collection of Kyrgyz mothers and fathers looking out for the young and naïve new teacher!)

It turns out that myself and the teacher I walked with were the only ones on time, not very unusual, but I got the unique opportunity to see all of the teachers arrive, and great every single one of them. There really is a large age range at my school, starting at twenty-three (there is a mathematics and computer teacher here my age!) and going all the way up mid-sixties. It was actually very interesting to watch all of them arrive, but even more interesting to see teachers arrive after all of the seats were taken (we were on the traditional floor cushions—tooshicks—and sitting around the lowered table—see the picture site for photos). The more people that arrived, the more required shifting of people was needed; eventually everyone was sitting shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee, which added a very surprising close knit feel to the room. Even before people got in the groove of pre-dinner conversation, there was a wonderful aura of comfort in the large room. People were very content in their positions, a wonderful display of the Kyrgyz warmth that can place any heart, of any nationality, at ease.

As we started on the salat (two dishes, one very potato salad-like, and the other a very tasty cold noodle dish with a little kick to it) conversation was in full swing and, not surprisingly I could barely understand any of it. I am getting better everyday with my language, but with forty-five people talking, and doing so very fast, it was time for me to just sit back and relax and watch the show, which I had no problem with. People watching is a love of mine, and this dinner was the perfect setting for it. Once in a while someone would turn to me and ask me a question, slowing their speech down and very kindly being patient with me. I would answer it and then eventually move back into my observer mode. In time, it would be wonderful to be able to interact and joke with all of my new colleagues; but for now, as a newcomer and a learner, it worked out best that I just sat back and listened.

After the salat course, all of the men stepped out side for what I loosely translated as “men talk;” which basically meant all of the men stepped out side to have a cigarette and have a group toast of vodka (toasts were a plenty this evening). I had this desire to stay in the room with all of the women, but I knew that I was expected to get up and join the men outside, so I wandered with. Due to my lack of smoking and vodka drinking, the men agreed to give me a cup of soup (from the boiling sheep in the giant kazaan—large wok-like pot over a fire behind us). After the toast and drink, the conversation began, and having a newcomer, I was the topic of conversation. Every man had a question, and I did my best to answer them all. Here is a sample dialogue with my best transcription as possible:

Teacher 1: Are you from a village or city?
Me: I am from a large city, it is called Chicago.
Teacher 1: I know Chicago, the Mafia!
Teacher 2: What state is Chicago in?
Me: Illinois.
Teacher 2: Where is Illinois?
Me: (Damn, how do I say Midwest) It’s in the middle of the country.
Teacher 3: Do you have farms in America?
Me: Yes we do. My state actually has a bunch, outside of the city.
Teacher 3: What do you grow in your state?
Me: (I have no idea besides corn!) Corn, wheat, potatoes…I am not sure what else.
Teacher 4: Do you have any sports teams in your city?
Me: Yes, we have basketball, baseball, soccer, football, and hockey teams in Chicago.
Teacher 4: Do you like or play any sports?
Me: I like all sports, but I really like to play soccer.
Teacher 5: Big or small soccer (Competitively or for fun)?
Me: Both.
Teacher 4: Do you have table tennis (ping pong) in America?
Me: Yes, I love to play it.
Teacher 5: We have one at school!
Me: Can we play sometime.
Teacher 5: Of course!
Teacher 2: What state are you from again?
Me: Illinois.
Every Teacher: How many states are in America?
Me: 50.
**This is where the “I told you so” and “You just guessed!” comments starting flying around the group. Apparently they were storing this question and waiting to find out the real answer from an American.**
Teacher 2: Is Washington a state?
Me: We have a Washington State and our capital is called Washington D.C.
Teacher 2: (to the other teachers) I knew it!
Vice-Principal (Zavooch): Ok, enough, lets go inside and eat.

So after quelling the argument over how many states the US has, we made our way back into the room for our second course, one of my favorites: Plov! This is a dish of fried rice, carrots, and meat. It sounds incredibly simple, but I love it. It is a bit fatty, but most food here is, I just supplement it with grabbing some tomatoes and cucumbers from another dish and eating those into between every other bite. Once the meal gets into full swing, I was introduced to a Kyrgyz pastime: singing. What happens is that there is a special cup that is passed around. This cup designates who is to sing, but also when you have the cup, you are supposed to pass the cup to a person you like and would like to see again. Conveniently, I was the third person in a group of 40+ to receive the cup. I went right after my Peace Corps taught Kyrgyz song “Kyrgyz Land” (Кыргыз Жере). I got through the first verse and they loved it. But as I was ready to pass the cup, they wanted me to also sing a song in English. So where else would I go, but to my bread and butter: Bing Crosby’s ‘White Christmas.’ The first verse of this song has forever, and will be forever, locked into my brain (I really need to learn the rest of the song!); but I love this song and they loved that I just sang a song in English. For the record, I thought about one of a few songs I know from ‘The Lion King,’ but I was afraid some of them (half the women there have little kids, and people know ‘The Lion King’ in my village) would know the songs. Once finished, I decided to pass the cup to the teacher who picked me up earlier and led the way to the house. Without her, I wouldn’t have been at the dinner (not counting the other thirty teachers that stopped by to pick me up!). Apparently this choice was hilarious and sent a roar throughout the room; I sat there very confused, but did receive a lot of thank yous from the teacher.

The evening wrapped up with gift giving; I still am not sure for what, but I was given one (rose scented air freshener spray). I walked home with a bunch of the teachers and had some small talk, but mostly just starred at the sunset through the clouds covering the mountains. I knew that this was another small step in integration, a tiny step towards acceptance. It all felt very natural, like something that I was meant to be doing. I was at a party where the school’s ‘family’ gathered to have a bit of fun, and I was welcomed in as more than just an observer, I was a participant.

Slowly but surely, life is moving along.

It won’t ever stop, I love it.


October 5, 2006

8:45 PM

Equation of the Week (a new series I am starting right now):

Average cups of Чай—Chai—(Tea) per meal: 4
Meals per day: 3
Average cups of Чай per day: 12
Average cups of Чай per week: 84
Average cups of Чай per month: 2,520
Average cups of Чай expected per year: 30,240
Average cups of Чай expected per two years: 60,480

* I will be drinking a lot of tea *


October 6, 2006

6:45 AM

I have not woken up past 6:20 AM for the past two weeks, there is just too much on my mind. Since being here, I have kept my alarm always set for 6:00 AM. When it went off, I would make the decision if I wanted to get up or not. During PST, that decision was almost always to sleep another hour. Since being in my village, for almost two weeks now, I have taken to a new morning routine. The alarm will go off, I will sit there and think for about ten minutes, and then roll out of bed. I go straight for the warm clothes needed for my inevitable morning trip to the outhouse, being sure to start the water heater before I leave my room. The water heater is the best purchase I have made in this country. It simply is an electric pitcher that plugs into the wall and boils water with the flip of a switch, literally.

In the morning I use this water heater for two main things: coffee and cleaning. I have a small wash bucket in my room where I will wash up a bit in the mornings, a ritual I have taken to since being here in Kyrgyzstan. With a shower/bania once a week or so, the need for morning cleanings becomes essential to cleanliness and the sheer feeling of freshness in the morning. As for the other hot water use, instant coffee is my path here. I guess if I wanted to, I could search for a coffee maker somewhere here (in Bishkek probably); but I do not have the time or the money for something like this. So the instant coffee in the mornings has become part of the ritual. It’s really not all that bad; I have gotten used to it.

My mornings have also started to involve sitting down at the computer to do exactly what I am doing right now. In the mornings my mind is very alive, clear, and wanting to write. Dr. Hanni Taylor (I miss Hanni!) would get mad at me if she knew how little writing, in any form, I did for the past year. I was mad at myself. This has been a great outlet to simply sit down and write, let my thoughts unravel and become words on a page. My mind is stirring and I love it. I know that my present situation has sparked many new thoughts in my mind, but I finally stopped telling myself I would eventually sit down and write, and just did. Sounds simple enough, but for some reason I made it difficult.


October 6, 2006

12:10 PM

It sounds very Peace Corps-ish and cliché to say, but in life, you win some and you lose some. Today was a very tough day at the “office.” Or in this case, English class at the school. Fridays I have two 8th grade classes and two 9th grade classes. They are the youngest groups I have and by that fact alone, they are the toughest to work with. Their English background is minimal at best, and a few of them have already shown signs of really seeing no reason in learning English. Add in my growing, but still very poor Kyrgyz and those classes are going to be greatest challenges for the next few months. But like everything here, and in life in general, if it’s a challenge, that means it’s also will be a wonderful lesson.

I left school today mentally drained and ready for a weekend break. I walked out of the school with the physical education teacher, Бакыт (Bakit) and found out that he moved to my village fifteen years ago. He shared his experiences, in very patient and clear Kyrgyz, about how the village perceived him upon his arrival. A lot of the “on-stage” feeling that I get walking through the village he also received and, even though he is Kyrgyz, he too was asked a thousand questions by every new person he stopped to talk with, including at the school. It was very comforting to hear and, whether he knew it or not, he was ending my time at school today on a very positive and up lifting note.

Conveniently, on the second half of my walk home, after saying good bye to Бакыт (Bakit), I met a local taxi driver named Улуш (Ulush). Overall, our conversation was very similar to most of my conversations since I have been in my village, but it had a big effect on me:

In Kyrgyz:
Улуш: Ассолом алейкум (Assolom aleykum)
Me: Алейкум ассолом (Aleykum assolom)
Улуш: You know Kyrgyz!
Me: I know a little, I am studying it now.
Улуш: Psssh, you know it, you are speaking it right now!
Me: (Ah man, here comes an onslaught of Kyrgyz questions)
Улуш: Why are you here in this village?
Me: I am new here; I have been here for two weeks. I am a volunteer and for the next two years I will be teaching English at the school.
Улуш: Very good! You are Russian?
Me: No, I am from America.
Улуш: Really?!?! Where in America?
Me: Chicago.
Улуш: I know Chicago. So you came here from Chicago to teach English at the school?
Me: Yes, I am a volunteer with Peace Corps.
((**Note, this is where the conversation took a new, very welcomed, and unexpected direction**))
Улуш: We all thank you for coming here; for teaching, for learning Kyrgyz, for living in this village.
Me: (taken back by the change of conversation) You are welcome.
Улуш: Do you like Kyrgyzstan and our village?
Me: Of course, it’s is beautiful and the people are wonderful.
Улуш: What is your name?
Me: Jason.
Улуш: (With a huge smile) My name is Улуш, it’s a pleasure to meet you.
Me: It was a please for me too.
Улуш: Go well, I will see you soon.
Me: The same you the same.

I finished my walked home beaming. This was a very basic conversation, one of many that I will have for the next month or so. But I felt like a million bucks during the remainder of my walk. Celebrate the small battles won (another cheesy Peace Corps sentiment). There was not really a battle won here, just a dose of unexpected appreciation, right when it was needed. Thank you Улуш and Бакыт, I will do my best to repay your kindness. In time, I will do my best the repay the village’s kindness back.