Yesterday was quite a curious day. When I got to school, I
was told that my co-teacher and I were invited to observe another teacher. We
went to the 4th grade Georgian class, which is taught by the mother
of one of our 8th graders. I was really excited about observing the
class. I felt bad for the teacher, though. Two of the other observing teachers
were walking around taking pictures the whole time. The teachers (there were 5
or 6 of us) were talking and calling out to the students and passing notes…they
reminded me of disruptive middle-school girls. At the same time, the Georgian
teacher had known in advance that she was going to be observed on this day. She
had prepared her lesson plan as a performance, and the students had done the
same. I’d love to be able to sit in the back of the class some day when there’s
a normal lesson, just out of curiosity.
I was a bit frustrated in an earlier class…just generally
because the students don’t know how to study and my co-teacher somehow can
listen to me teach articles for three classes in a row but STILL use them wrong
when questioning students.
We got news that our children who competed in the “English
Olympics” exam at Oni school scored among the best in the region. One of our 4th
grader did especially well…which is fantastic news for the kids and for our
school. I’ve seen the tests, though. On the one hand, they were difficult for
the level our students are at, so I’m proud of the kids. On the other hand, if
our kids were among the best, I’m worried. Sure, English is just a foreign
language that is just beginning to be seriously taught here. But…the books (up
until now) have been bad and many of the teachers don’t know the language
they’re trying to teach…Kids aren’t taught how to study or use models or
double-check their work. How are they supposed to learn anything?
The end of the day was a little strange. I gave the 8th
graders letters from students at my mom’s school, thinking we could take a
lesson or two to translate and then two or three to write letters back.
Instead, my co-teacher took the letters and translated them to the class out
loud. The kids were interested, of course. They thought it was funny that the
American students asked if it ever snows in Georgia. They also thought it was
strange that Americans don’t know khachapuri. I was amused by the fact that
they asked me after every letter, “Is it from a girl or a boy?” I think they
want pictures. They’re amused by American names and it makes me really REALLY
wish I had brought my high school yearbook.
All told, it was a good cultural lesson for them, but they
didn’t practice any English and I’m nervous about writing letters back. I was
planning to have them write working drafts of their letters and then send
polished copies after a week or two of work (the whole holiday-break in the
middle didn’t strike me as a problem before now); however, Matsatso assigned
them to write letters for homework…so half the class will come in next time
with what they will assume are “finished” letters. Drafting and editing is a
strange concept for them…at least in English class.
Then in 9th grade, my co-teacher was catching-up
on her attendance-taking for the day. So I sat with the students and we
listened to music and talked for a while. It was good, because they actually
had to work at communicating with me. Then I put the lyrics to “Sleigh Ride” on
the board—leaving a bunch of gaps—and the students had to listen to the song to
complete the lyrics. They like this game, and I like seeing how they work
together to figure out the puzzle. It’s fun.
After school, my head teacher said she wanted to observe an
English class soon. My co-teacher wanted her to come to a third grade class.
Since today was my last day teaching before I leave on Christmas holiday, that
meant we were observed today. Last night, then, I went to my co-teacher’s
house. I was originally supposed to visit with Keti and race horses with Alex
and get home early to decorate for Christmas. Instead, I made finger puppets
while my co-teacher fried fish, and then we made posters together. I didn’t get
home until after 8…and I had missed all the decorating. But our posters looked lovely!
Eka and I have been having trouble figuring out our holiday
trip. We were going to go to Milan (my tickets were free). Then I was told that
she couldn’t get a visa (partially true—partially a lie to cover up the fact
that she tried to cheat the application process and it didn’t work). So we
decided to go to Istanbul because we had a layover there on our original
tickets SO it would be easy enough. Then my program sent me to their travel agency to
fix the tickets, and the travel agency sent me to the airlines, and the
airlines sent me back to the travel agency. Things just kept getting
increasingly frustrating and abusurd and expensive until last night we decided
we wouldn’t go. Today at school, though, I had internet and a printer and a
working phone so I played with a few things and now we’re going after all (for
the same as it would have cost us to pay the cancellation fees). Not having
internet or a printer (or electricity…) was frustrating. Calling hot-line
numbers and repeatedly having nobody answer was frustrating. Trying to explain
why airlines have cancellation fees in two languages—one I semi-speak and one I
don’t speak—was kindof hilarious in its strangeness. But it really wasn’t fun
at the time.
The morning started out a bit rough. As we hiked to school,
my co-teacher and I were talking about phonics and learning to read English.
Supposedly, the Georgian alphabet reads easily because each letter only makes
one sound. Maybe in proper Georgian this is true, but I’ve noticed that here
people sometimes pronounce the “v” letter as a “w.” They do it all the time,
with lots of common words, and I told my co-teacher that this is the only
letter that I notice this with. It makes problems for Georgians studying
English because they hear “w” as a lazy “v” and so say things like “wan”
instead of “van.” My co-teacher got very upset. She told me that this isn’t
true. I asked why people say “wie me” and “tkwen and “twilebi” instead of “vie
me,” “tkven,” and “tvilebi,” and she insisted they don’t. I tried to remind her
that she hears sounds in English that I don’t because she studies it. She got
very upset and told me that I’m just wrong because she has a second degree as a
Georgian Literature Teacher. I shrugged it off.
When we did get to school, we had our lesson. I tried to
just stay out of the way so that Matsatso could perform like she wanted.
Actually, though, I thought the teaching part of it went pretty well. In case I haven't said it before, I do actually think she's a good teacher. I get frustrated by linguistic things and by the priorities (or lack thereof) of a different educational (social) system, but my co-teacher actually does care about the kids and is open to trying different lesson styles. Of course, after today's lesson I was left thinking: maybe, if
we always planned our lessons, they would always go so well. We ran over
time—which is encouraged so actually it wasn't a problem for that class—and it
felt like we were behind in the rest of our lessons all day. We would check
homework, the bell would ring, and I would hand out the Christmas cards I made
for the kids.
After classes, I used the school internet to buy my airplane
ticket back from Istanbul, print all of our travel reservations’ information,
and send the school’s report to the program head in Kut’aisi. My head teacher was
very concerned about the fact that I am leaving before the end of school and
missing the children’s New Year concert. She kept asking if my program knew about
this. I explained that they originally bought the tickets for me, but she
called to Kut’aisi to check. Maybe it’s cute that she cares?
From school, I went with my co-teacher to her friend’s shop.
I was planning to only visit for a little while and then go see Keti once
before I leave for Turkey. In the shop, though, there was a drunk man being
belligerent and hassling Tatia, so my co-teacher and I stayed for a while to
help her. Tatia is sick, so she was sitting by the fire. Matsatso stood in
front of her and I stood so that I blocked way to our behind-the-counter area.
Tatia didn’t want to call the police (because no one wants to make a fuss in a
small town…) but the man didn’t leave. Eventually Tatia told us to just go home.
I didn’t want to leave her, but she didn’t want to do anything to change the
situation so what could we actually do. As soon as we left, I looked through
the window and saw that the man was behind the counter. I was worried, but
Matsatso said “He’s harmless” in a tone that reminded me that women here are
used to dealing with these kinds of things. And Tatia probably knows how to
take care of herself in a much more socially acceptable way than I do and
that’s what’s important sooooo……sigh.
At home, I read and studied. I’m drawing mandalas about
Georgian folk tales. I’m trying to drink enough tea that I feel good but not so
much that I get teased. Giorgi came over to tell us that today he killed the
pig we will eat for Christmas. I won a game of dominoes and Jumberi was very
proud, because he has been my teacher for the past few weeks. On TV, a man with a beautiful voice (from
Batumi, who just got kicked off of Geostari) sang “Kari kris da kris da kris”
and a song from Jesus Christ, Superstar.
Then Saakashvili gave a speech, pictured as usual between a Georgian flag and
an EU flag. Now everyone is watching William Levy.
Tomorrow is a double holiday. It’s Giorgi’s birthday, for
one. And it’s Barbara-oba…Saint Barbara’s feast day. To celebrate, people hang
new ornaments on their New Year’s trees tonight. Then, early tomorrow morning,
a neighbor or friend who is the appointed “first foot” comes. If she or he is
the first visitor in the morning, the family and all who dwell in the house
will have good luck for the new year. People have a lot of faith in the New
Year here. It’s common to talk about how it’s coming and how it will make
everything better. I don't know if I can believe everything will be better, but I'm grateful for the past year and looking forward to the new one. As a Georgian woman told me today, time runs whether we notice it or not.
I'm trying to notice it and use it and remember it and wash myself in it and fly along with it...
Happy almost New Year...
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