On Monday, February 22, I was well enough to begin my adult job as a teacher. Yes, I was terrified. I take the teacher bus to school every day, and that means waking up at 5AM to take a taxi at 6AM to get to the bus stop at 6:15AM. I think I was more nervous about missing the stupid bus than I was to actually teach. My bus ride is an hour long.
Before continuing, I would like to take this opportunity to thank my darling parents for living in the same house for nearly 25 years. Because of this, I never had to be plucked up and moved to another school. I never had to be the new kid. Until now. And let me tell you. I don’t like it.
I think that everything would be just a little bit easier if I was starting at the beginning of the school year. But no, it’s the middle of the 2nd trimester, and everyone already has their cliques and groups. Everyone is nice to me (I mean come on, we’re all adults here), but nice in the “hi, I know you’re new so I’ll say hello, but I’m not going to be your friend” type of nice. Great.
So, I got on the bus after making friends with some security guards while I waited, and I sat… alone. Other teachers boarded the bus at their respective stops, and everyone got a “Good morning!”, while I got a glance. I was NOT looking forward to the rest of the day.
And then, everything changed. An old grandpa boarded the bus, and as he was walking up the aisle, the bus lurched forward, right as he was passing my seat. I really don’t think he MEANT to sit by me – he more fell into place. But alas, I made a friend. And thinking about it now, I have no idea what his name is, but he is the school doctor. What a nice old man he is! He just talked and talked and talked on the rest of the bus ride to the school.
When I got to the school, nerves kicked in again. I found the English department chair, and he assured me that I wouldn’t be alone for the day. HA. THAT was a joke. All he did was escort me to my classrooms, introduce me to people (always saying, “Make friends!” after telling me someone’s name), and cram my head with the logistics of the school, 2/3 of which I don’t remember. Now, the department chair is a busy man, and material-wise for my classes, he basically said “HERE”, and gave me the class textbooks. Wait, what? As the day went on, I was feeling less and less qualified for the position.
I am teaching 3 different classes of 20 students each. 8th graders. Oh fun. During the week, each class (A, B, and C) has 4 days of 90 minutes of English, and 1 day of 45 minutes. The first class that I had was the class that I had to do the practice lesson with when I interviewed, and they actually seemed excited that I returned to be their teacher. The first day, since I had received the material only that morning, I played games with the classes, let them ask me questions about myself (in EVERY class the first question was: Are you married? “NO.” And the second question was: Do you have a boyfriend? “OKAYYYYYY Who wants to play a game?!?!?!”)
After that first day, I already had my favorite class (9C – 9th grade in Ecuador is the equivalent to 8th grade in the US), and I already had my class that I KNEW was going to give me trouble (9A). And, I am my father’s daughter. That first day, I could tell who the trouble-makers were because of that “sneaky look” in their eyes (that my dad always picks up on), and I already wanted to tell a handful of kids to stop being assholes, a phrase that my dad uses often.
My 2nd day of work, I made a friend – Ken, a fellow gringo. He told me the story of the school, which teachers get along, which ones don’t, and why not very many people would want to be my friend – because I am an English teacher, I get paid more. The teachers that don’t teach English get paid less, and here I am, this spoiled white girl, getting hired and starting a new job in which I have no experience, getting a place to live AND paid almost DOUBLE what they are making. Looks like I’ll have to make friends somewhere else, because I am NOT friend material at this school. Shoot.
For the most part, the kids are good. I tried lying to them all telling them that I can’t speak Spanish, but that lasted for not even a day, because they all heard me speaking Spanish to the secretary of the school. I still make them speak English in the classroom, and they don’t like that! I can’t understand half of what they say in English, and I find myself resorting to shouting I DO NOT KNOW WHAT YOU ARE SAY-ING for the majority of the day. This is going to be fun.
During the first week of school, I started learning the student’s personalities, and some of the kids just make me laugh and laugh. One of my favorites is a boy-crazy girl named Anahí. Her first question to me was if I had ever met Hannah Montana (She OBVIOUSLY doesn’t know that Hannah and Miley are one in the same.). Her second question was if I thought Justin Bieber was cute. Isn’t he like, 10? I told her no. She was crushed.
Overall, I really do enjoy teaching. Actually, I don’t know if I like teaching as much as I like all of these personalities that I’m dealing with. I KNOW that I’m not qualified for this job, but that’s ok! My gringo friend Ken told me that no one is checking up on me anyways, so really? It doesn’t matter.
OH. I DO have one other teacher friend named Diego (I think). His desk/cubby thing in the teacher’s lounge (even though I’m a teacher, I still feel awkward in the teacher’s lounge) is right next to mine. He speaks better English than I do. When I told him that I was from Wisconsin, he said that his favorite town in all of the United States (and he’s seen more of the US than I have) is this little town in Wisconsin called… LAKE GENEVA. My response? “GET OUT OF TOWN!!!!!!!!!!!! I’M FROM THERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Smooth, Sara. I almost hit him on the arm, but thank GOD I refrained.
After a long week of teaching, I was able to move out of my host family’s house and into the house that the school is providing me. It’s still under construction, but I’ll be able to live just fine. It. Is. HUGE. As in: 3 floors, 4 bedrooms, 3.5 bathrooms. I’m living very, very luxuriously by Ecuadorian standards – heck, if you saw my apartment that I lived in my last semester of college, this is a PALACE compared to that. And the best part? HOT SHOWER. My room has a double bed (eee!) and a bathroom attached. I am BEYOND thrilled that the shower is warm. After 7 weeks of cold showers EVERYDAY, you really, REALLY learn to appreciate those little luxuries.
Until next time,
Sara the spoiled American.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Hearts and Spider Solitaire
Good news: I'm still alive. Thursday was the first turning point in my illness (FINALLY), where it didn't hurt to open my mouth so much. I still didn't have an appetite, but on Friday, that returned as well, and now today I would say that I'm 90% recovered from the mumps. Let me tell you: I REALLY hope that the mumps is one of those diseases like the chicken pox that you get once and then you NEVER get again.
From Sunday to Thursday, I was pretty much confined to my bedroom. Doing anything exhausted me (example: on Wednesday I went to the internet cafe for an hour, and when I got back, I had to take an hour and a half nap), and I was constantly dizzy and light-headed. My host mom was starting to get really worried, because I couldn't eat anything all week, but alas, yesterday changed THAT. All in all, the mumps was a horrible experience, and I hope that none of you ever have to go through it. If you do, call me, I can give you tips.
While I had the mumps, I spent my time doing several things: (1) sleeping, (2) just laying in my bed, (3) reading my Kindle, (4) checking my email/Facebook OBSESSIVELY on my Kindle, and (5) playing computer games, namely spider solitaire and hearts. I'm now on the intermediate level of spider solitaire; my winning percentage is a whopping 8% (I refuse to disclose how many games I've actually played).
I taught myself how to play hearts, and I always lose. Oh well, can't win them all! When I first started playing hearts, the computer named the other players “North”, “East”, and “West”. I decided to go on ahead and play with my friends. Thanks to all of you who played hearts with me and didn't even know it: Peter, Nicole, Andrew, Jenna, Mark, Mom, Dad, Taylor, Adrianna, Marty, Laura, Rachel, Grandma Ann, Travis, and Jess. Let me tell you – it's a LOT easier to get into the game when you're saying “DANG DAD! Why'd you have to give me the Queen of Spades?!”
In other news, remember how we got a new car? Lupe got an alarm system on it, and apparently, Ecuadorian alarm systems are more complicated than American ones. You have to type in a code or something to turn the alarm on/off, and all alarms sound the same. Not just the beep-beep-beep that you have in the US, but they bring out all the bells and whistles and sirens. It's horrible. Anyways, EVERY TIME a car alarm goes off in the neighborhood while our car is safely in it's parking spot, Pamela, my host sister, YELLS “MOMMY! EL CARRO!!!!!!” Like the car is being stolen. It doesn't matter if the car alarm that is going off is in the distance – she ALWAYS yells this, and then proceeds to run to the bathroom, open the window, and make sure that our car is still there. I'll say this – the car's alarm has never gone off unless we were in the car, or Lupe couldn't figure out how to turn it off when she turned it on.
I start teaching on Monday, which I'm really looking forward to, since this past week I've done NOTHING (besides play hearts and spider solitaire), and I'm getting a bit of cabin fever.
Thanks to all of you who sent me concerned emails and your thoughts and prayers – I truly appreciate it.
Until next time,
Spider Solitaire Sara
From Sunday to Thursday, I was pretty much confined to my bedroom. Doing anything exhausted me (example: on Wednesday I went to the internet cafe for an hour, and when I got back, I had to take an hour and a half nap), and I was constantly dizzy and light-headed. My host mom was starting to get really worried, because I couldn't eat anything all week, but alas, yesterday changed THAT. All in all, the mumps was a horrible experience, and I hope that none of you ever have to go through it. If you do, call me, I can give you tips.
While I had the mumps, I spent my time doing several things: (1) sleeping, (2) just laying in my bed, (3) reading my Kindle, (4) checking my email/Facebook OBSESSIVELY on my Kindle, and (5) playing computer games, namely spider solitaire and hearts. I'm now on the intermediate level of spider solitaire; my winning percentage is a whopping 8% (I refuse to disclose how many games I've actually played).
I taught myself how to play hearts, and I always lose. Oh well, can't win them all! When I first started playing hearts, the computer named the other players “North”, “East”, and “West”. I decided to go on ahead and play with my friends. Thanks to all of you who played hearts with me and didn't even know it: Peter, Nicole, Andrew, Jenna, Mark, Mom, Dad, Taylor, Adrianna, Marty, Laura, Rachel, Grandma Ann, Travis, and Jess. Let me tell you – it's a LOT easier to get into the game when you're saying “DANG DAD! Why'd you have to give me the Queen of Spades?!”
In other news, remember how we got a new car? Lupe got an alarm system on it, and apparently, Ecuadorian alarm systems are more complicated than American ones. You have to type in a code or something to turn the alarm on/off, and all alarms sound the same. Not just the beep-beep-beep that you have in the US, but they bring out all the bells and whistles and sirens. It's horrible. Anyways, EVERY TIME a car alarm goes off in the neighborhood while our car is safely in it's parking spot, Pamela, my host sister, YELLS “MOMMY! EL CARRO!!!!!!” Like the car is being stolen. It doesn't matter if the car alarm that is going off is in the distance – she ALWAYS yells this, and then proceeds to run to the bathroom, open the window, and make sure that our car is still there. I'll say this – the car's alarm has never gone off unless we were in the car, or Lupe couldn't figure out how to turn it off when she turned it on.
I start teaching on Monday, which I'm really looking forward to, since this past week I've done NOTHING (besides play hearts and spider solitaire), and I'm getting a bit of cabin fever.
Thanks to all of you who sent me concerned emails and your thoughts and prayers – I truly appreciate it.
Until next time,
Spider Solitaire Sara
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
“You have parotitis, I´m sorry, I don´t know how to say that in English"
Saturday morning started out like any other day, except that when I woke up, I had a pain in my neck, just below my right ear on my jawline. I didn't really think anything of it. I met with my friend Dave who was going to be waiting in line for his censo (I don't know what that means, but I have to do it too) right near my house. Although it doesn't open until 8:30, Dave arrived at 8. Imagine waiting in line at the DMV – this is the same thing. While I'm keeping Dave company, I ask him what he thinks I should do about this pain I'm having. He tells me that I probably just slept on my neck funny and to give it a few days. Sounds good to me!
Around noon, I went to the park near my house with my Kindle to read my latest purchase (thanks Mom!) “Eat, Pray, Love”. I highly recommend this book. As I'm laying in the grass, I begin to notice that my neck is beginning to swell where I'm having this pain. Huh. That's odd. I give myself a little examination and decide that it's not my lymph nodes (I've had a lot of experience with ear/nose/throat problems in the past), but I'm finding it odd that only one side of my neck is beginning to swell. Oh well! I'm still all about taking Dave's advice and waiting it out.
As I'm laying there reading my book, two look-like-high-school guys approach me and ask me if they can practice their English with me. My first thought is to say no, grab my stuff, and run (well, we all know I don't run, but hurry) away. Upon second thought, these two boys looked harmless so I said sure, and invited them to have a seat. I kept my bag in my lap the whole time, and was ready to scream if necessary. I talked with the boys for about a half an hour, until I realized that it was getting harder and more painful to open my mouth to speak. This pain in the side of my neck was not about to let me “wait it out”.
I told the boys that I had to go home for lunch, which I did. Man. I could hardly open my mouth wide enough to feed myself, and I realized that I wasn't even really that hungry. My host mom told me to rest a little bit. After an hour nap and then some laying in my bed, I got up again, and WHOA. My neck was visibly swollen, and it HURT. Of course my imagination is NOT serving me well, and I begin to think that all of a sudden a tumor has formed on my neck in the period of 10 hours. By tomorrow morning, this baby is going to be the size of a football. My host mom sees me and begins FREAKING OUT (she is a huge, and I mean HUGE worry-wart), which is NOT helping my imagination. She calls Justin, one of my instructors of the TESOL course, and tells him that he has to bring me to the ER because she has to work (she caters). I'm HORRIFIED at this thought. I mean, in the US, I'm at to ER in a second my mom advises me to do so. But (1) this is my Ecuadorian mom advising me, (2) I'm not quite sure how to describe my symptoms in Spanish – she can only see that my neck has begun swelling right below my ear on my jawline – and (3) in my head, Ecuadorian hospitals a sketchy and dirty. Here goes nothing.
Justin brings me to the ER, which is sparkling clean, and I am feeling much better about it. I fill out some paper work (good thing I have a slip of paper in my wallet with my address on it!), and I am immediately escorted into the patient sector. I can't quite describe it as a room, but more like a big area with curtains separating patients. I sit on the bed, and a nurse takes my vitals, etc. Pretty standard procedure. Later, a doctor comes in (he was actually a resident something or other – thank you Grey's Anatomy for teaching me what residents are) and asks me if I want this done in Spanish or English. Look at me. Do you THINK I would rather be told what is wrong with me in my native language, or my hardly second language? I mean, I can barely understand “hola” when I am in a situation that exerts the lowest amount of pressure.
This kind resident tells me that hmmmmmm, “I'm not quite sure what this is, especially because the pain is in such a how-do-you-say confined? space. We'll need to do a blood test and a Cat scan.” CAT SCAN!?!?!?! Oh GOD, I'm going to die here in this clean Ecuadorian hospital, and I will be shipped home to my parents. My mind is RACING, and I can't help but think of my friend Erik, who while in Europe had to go to the hospital because of a small lump in his neck, which, when cut into, started squirting blood everywhere. It ended in him being tackled onto the hospital bed by a nurse, and the removal of a small tumor, of which he still has the scar on his neck. Am I too going to be tackled by a nurse as blood comes spurting out of my neck? Oh please, God, no.
I get the blood work done (thanking God that I'm not needle-phobic because the LAST thing that I needed was to pass out because of a needle – I've got bigger things to worry about), and I got the Cat scan done. Then, I waited. And waited. While I'm waiting, I can't help but think of the Seinfeld episode where the four friends decide to volunteer at a senior citizen's home, and Elaine has the old woman with the huge goiter on her neck. Yes, in my mind, I have a goiter the size of a basketball below my right ear.
Finally, my new friend the resident came back with good news: you will live. It's just an infected gland, and what you have is called “parotitis”, but “sorry, I don't know how to say that in English. The common term for it in Ecuador is 'paperas'”. He gave me some pills that are anti-inflammatory because, since it's a virus, antibiotics will not work. I'M GOING TO LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE. I was never so happy.
I spent all of Sunday laying in my bed, able to only stay awake for 30-45 minutes at a time. The entire day I was in a type of daze, with my host mom knocking on my door and taking my temperature (which I vaguely remember), trying to force-feed me, but I'm still having trouble opening my mouth. Aunt Rosi (a nurse) came over to make sure that the doctors gave me good medicine, and continues to tell me “when Lupe (host mom) was describing your symptoms to me on the phone, I KNEW it was paperas!!”. Thanks, Rosi.
Later Sunday night, I'm curious about this “paperas” is, so I text the main-google-man to “google that shit” as he always so kindly puts it. I wake up to an email response from Peter: “You are not going to believe this. You have MUMPS.” MUMPS?!?! Does that even EXIST anymore?!?! Why yes, Sara, it does. You've got it.
I've called the school that I'm working for and postponed my start-date to Monday the 22nd. I'm hoping that I'll be fully recovered by then!! And for all of you that are wondering... Yes, I've had the mumps vaccination. No, it does not seem to work in Ecuador.
Until next time,
Sara the sicky, or, as my dear sister Jenna has taken to calling me “Mumpy”. Love you too, Jen.
Around noon, I went to the park near my house with my Kindle to read my latest purchase (thanks Mom!) “Eat, Pray, Love”. I highly recommend this book. As I'm laying in the grass, I begin to notice that my neck is beginning to swell where I'm having this pain. Huh. That's odd. I give myself a little examination and decide that it's not my lymph nodes (I've had a lot of experience with ear/nose/throat problems in the past), but I'm finding it odd that only one side of my neck is beginning to swell. Oh well! I'm still all about taking Dave's advice and waiting it out.
As I'm laying there reading my book, two look-like-high-school guys approach me and ask me if they can practice their English with me. My first thought is to say no, grab my stuff, and run (well, we all know I don't run, but hurry) away. Upon second thought, these two boys looked harmless so I said sure, and invited them to have a seat. I kept my bag in my lap the whole time, and was ready to scream if necessary. I talked with the boys for about a half an hour, until I realized that it was getting harder and more painful to open my mouth to speak. This pain in the side of my neck was not about to let me “wait it out”.
I told the boys that I had to go home for lunch, which I did. Man. I could hardly open my mouth wide enough to feed myself, and I realized that I wasn't even really that hungry. My host mom told me to rest a little bit. After an hour nap and then some laying in my bed, I got up again, and WHOA. My neck was visibly swollen, and it HURT. Of course my imagination is NOT serving me well, and I begin to think that all of a sudden a tumor has formed on my neck in the period of 10 hours. By tomorrow morning, this baby is going to be the size of a football. My host mom sees me and begins FREAKING OUT (she is a huge, and I mean HUGE worry-wart), which is NOT helping my imagination. She calls Justin, one of my instructors of the TESOL course, and tells him that he has to bring me to the ER because she has to work (she caters). I'm HORRIFIED at this thought. I mean, in the US, I'm at to ER in a second my mom advises me to do so. But (1) this is my Ecuadorian mom advising me, (2) I'm not quite sure how to describe my symptoms in Spanish – she can only see that my neck has begun swelling right below my ear on my jawline – and (3) in my head, Ecuadorian hospitals a sketchy and dirty. Here goes nothing.
Justin brings me to the ER, which is sparkling clean, and I am feeling much better about it. I fill out some paper work (good thing I have a slip of paper in my wallet with my address on it!), and I am immediately escorted into the patient sector. I can't quite describe it as a room, but more like a big area with curtains separating patients. I sit on the bed, and a nurse takes my vitals, etc. Pretty standard procedure. Later, a doctor comes in (he was actually a resident something or other – thank you Grey's Anatomy for teaching me what residents are) and asks me if I want this done in Spanish or English. Look at me. Do you THINK I would rather be told what is wrong with me in my native language, or my hardly second language? I mean, I can barely understand “hola” when I am in a situation that exerts the lowest amount of pressure.
This kind resident tells me that hmmmmmm, “I'm not quite sure what this is, especially because the pain is in such a how-do-you-say confined? space. We'll need to do a blood test and a Cat scan.” CAT SCAN!?!?!?! Oh GOD, I'm going to die here in this clean Ecuadorian hospital, and I will be shipped home to my parents. My mind is RACING, and I can't help but think of my friend Erik, who while in Europe had to go to the hospital because of a small lump in his neck, which, when cut into, started squirting blood everywhere. It ended in him being tackled onto the hospital bed by a nurse, and the removal of a small tumor, of which he still has the scar on his neck. Am I too going to be tackled by a nurse as blood comes spurting out of my neck? Oh please, God, no.
I get the blood work done (thanking God that I'm not needle-phobic because the LAST thing that I needed was to pass out because of a needle – I've got bigger things to worry about), and I got the Cat scan done. Then, I waited. And waited. While I'm waiting, I can't help but think of the Seinfeld episode where the four friends decide to volunteer at a senior citizen's home, and Elaine has the old woman with the huge goiter on her neck. Yes, in my mind, I have a goiter the size of a basketball below my right ear.
Finally, my new friend the resident came back with good news: you will live. It's just an infected gland, and what you have is called “parotitis”, but “sorry, I don't know how to say that in English. The common term for it in Ecuador is 'paperas'”. He gave me some pills that are anti-inflammatory because, since it's a virus, antibiotics will not work. I'M GOING TO LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE. I was never so happy.
I spent all of Sunday laying in my bed, able to only stay awake for 30-45 minutes at a time. The entire day I was in a type of daze, with my host mom knocking on my door and taking my temperature (which I vaguely remember), trying to force-feed me, but I'm still having trouble opening my mouth. Aunt Rosi (a nurse) came over to make sure that the doctors gave me good medicine, and continues to tell me “when Lupe (host mom) was describing your symptoms to me on the phone, I KNEW it was paperas!!”. Thanks, Rosi.
Later Sunday night, I'm curious about this “paperas” is, so I text the main-google-man to “google that shit” as he always so kindly puts it. I wake up to an email response from Peter: “You are not going to believe this. You have MUMPS.” MUMPS?!?! Does that even EXIST anymore?!?! Why yes, Sara, it does. You've got it.
I've called the school that I'm working for and postponed my start-date to Monday the 22nd. I'm hoping that I'll be fully recovered by then!! And for all of you that are wondering... Yes, I've had the mumps vaccination. No, it does not seem to work in Ecuador.
Until next time,
Sara the sicky, or, as my dear sister Jenna has taken to calling me “Mumpy”. Love you too, Jen.
Friday, February 12, 2010
I had to RUN (what a joke) and jump (an even bigger joke) to get on the bus
Last week Saturday, Billie, Ben, Darren (three of my fellow teachers), and I were invited by several of our students to go to their neighborhood for an Olympics. It was going to be a day of competitions (Ecuadorians are VERY competitive). My first thought? Great. A day of sports. What better way to make a complete fool of myself. Being the good sport I am (no pun intended), I decided to go.
The neighborhood that we went to is called Carcelén Bajo, and it is about an hour bus ride away. Henry (the poet) gave us directions to get there, so we were all set. Another student named Santiago was coming with us to serve as our guide from the center of Quito to Carcelén. Let me tell you: traveling with a native makes traveling MUCH less stressful.
The 5 of us all met up to get on the bus together to make our way to Carcelén. This bus experience was no better than my last one. It was different (as in no sweaty hand and being flung all over the place) but equally horrible. One thing about the buses in Quito is that they are always, and I mean ALWAYS, PACKED. Not just need-to-stand packed. You almost don't need to hold on to anything because you're squeezed in there so tight. I was standing, and holding onto the overheard bar thing. No problem, right? WRONG. The bus was VERY jerky, and I was not facing the front, but turned and looking out the window. As I'm being jerked around, I'm starting to get hot. And dizzy. And nauseous. I begin having minor panicky thoughts – Why isn't the Dramamine I took working? I've only been on the bus for 20 minutes, I have to stay on here 40 more? What do I do in the event that I pass out? What happens if I need to vomit? I need water. If I do not sit down, something very embarrassing is going to happen very, very quickly.
Billie had a seat, and bless her soul she let me sit down. Darren told me that I was white as a ghost, and I tried laughing it off, but oh man, there was NO laughing this horrible feeling off. I'm starting to think about how I can politely tell my friends that we need to get off this bus NOW otherwise there is going to be a PROBLEM, when Santiago says “This is our stop!” Thank GOD. We got off the bus, and the second I got in the the fresh air I felt better. What a close call.
Turns out that Santiago is not the tour guide that I assumed he would be, and we got off the bus at the wrong stop. But that's ok. Because if we HADN'T gotten off of the bus just then, I would have had to be carried off the bus, and that's just embarrassing to think about. We got on another bus and finally, FINALLY made it to Carcelén.
For the first day since I had been in Ecuador, Saturday it rained non-stop all day. So the Olympics were canceled (oh, darn, looks like I can't show off my soccer skillz), and we played ping-pong and cards all day. It was a wonderful time, and we all enjoyed the company of our students, especially seeing them in their home environment.
Around 7, we decided that we should probably get back to Quito. We were all waiting for the bus in the rain. When we saw our bus coming, Billie, Ben, Santiago, and I (Darren had to leave earlier) began saying our goodbyes to our friends. I was the last one in the departure line, and the other three had gotten on the bus. All of a sudden, the bus started pulling away, WITHOUT ME ON IT. Naturally, I started screaming, and despite the fact that Santiago was standing at the door OBVIOUSLY waiting for me, the bus driver did not stop. Thank GOD I didn't fall or anything (it was a miracle), because I had to RUN (what a joke) and jump (an even bigger joke) to get on the bus. I was literally screaming the entire time. The bus driver did not care. I just thank God that I didn't fall and get run over, because really? The bus still wouldn't have stopped. Don't worry, Mom, Ecuador is super safe! …
This past week was the last week of the TESOL course (thank GOD because it was INTENSE). Since I'm more comfortable in front of the students, I decided to try a game out of my students. There were two teams competing against each other, and let me just tell you that it resulted in everyone yelling (including me, but mine was “QUIET! QUIET! PLEASE! WE NEED TO BE QUIET!!” I'm a great teacher...), and I thought Henry was going to jump out the window because he was so into the game. I'm just glad that no one got hurt.
In other news, I got a job on Tuesday! It came as quite the surprise to everyone, and especially me! I'll be working as an 8th grade English teacher. I'll have 3 classes of 25 students each. I start already on Wednesday (yes, I start sweating just THINKING about it). I was interviewed by two people, in English (thank the LORD), and it was going really, really well. Until the following conversation took place:
John (interviewer): Well, Sara, we'd really like to see you do a practice lesson.
He pauses. During the pause I am thinking Oh Jesus no.
John continues: Could you do one for us?
Sara (I immediately break out into a sweat): A practice lesson? Right now? In front of students?
John: Oh! If you want to do it now, that would be so great! How about 10 minutes?
Sara (If I would have been standing, I would have fallen down): Oh yeah! Sure! I'd LOVE to! What do you want me to teach!?!? *insert nervous laughter here*
John: How about you review comparative adjectives?
(Comparativeadjectivescomparativeadjectives. For some reason my mind can't even process what sentence is, so what the HECK are comparative adjectives?)
John continues without skipping a beat: Like taller, more delicious, you know.
Sara: That sounds great! How about a game??
(internally FREAKING OUT)
John: Perfect. I'll see you in ten.
Ten minutes later, I found myself standing in front of about twenty five 13 year olds. Awesome. They are WILD, it was a zoo in there, and I was literally standing at the front of the room with my hands in the air, YELLING “BEEEEEEEEEEEE QUIETTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” It's going to be a good time! The students loved the game, and John must have thought that I did an alright job because when we walked out of the classroom he asked me when I could start. Well. THAT was unexpected. I accepted the position (It's not like I was getting any offers anywhere else), and went to talk about the logistics of the situation. So, surprise! I'm an 8th grade teacher in Ecuador, and I don't know that I've ever been more terrified.
Until next time,
Teacher Sara
The neighborhood that we went to is called Carcelén Bajo, and it is about an hour bus ride away. Henry (the poet) gave us directions to get there, so we were all set. Another student named Santiago was coming with us to serve as our guide from the center of Quito to Carcelén. Let me tell you: traveling with a native makes traveling MUCH less stressful.
The 5 of us all met up to get on the bus together to make our way to Carcelén. This bus experience was no better than my last one. It was different (as in no sweaty hand and being flung all over the place) but equally horrible. One thing about the buses in Quito is that they are always, and I mean ALWAYS, PACKED. Not just need-to-stand packed. You almost don't need to hold on to anything because you're squeezed in there so tight. I was standing, and holding onto the overheard bar thing. No problem, right? WRONG. The bus was VERY jerky, and I was not facing the front, but turned and looking out the window. As I'm being jerked around, I'm starting to get hot. And dizzy. And nauseous. I begin having minor panicky thoughts – Why isn't the Dramamine I took working? I've only been on the bus for 20 minutes, I have to stay on here 40 more? What do I do in the event that I pass out? What happens if I need to vomit? I need water. If I do not sit down, something very embarrassing is going to happen very, very quickly.
Billie had a seat, and bless her soul she let me sit down. Darren told me that I was white as a ghost, and I tried laughing it off, but oh man, there was NO laughing this horrible feeling off. I'm starting to think about how I can politely tell my friends that we need to get off this bus NOW otherwise there is going to be a PROBLEM, when Santiago says “This is our stop!” Thank GOD. We got off the bus, and the second I got in the the fresh air I felt better. What a close call.
Turns out that Santiago is not the tour guide that I assumed he would be, and we got off the bus at the wrong stop. But that's ok. Because if we HADN'T gotten off of the bus just then, I would have had to be carried off the bus, and that's just embarrassing to think about. We got on another bus and finally, FINALLY made it to Carcelén.
For the first day since I had been in Ecuador, Saturday it rained non-stop all day. So the Olympics were canceled (oh, darn, looks like I can't show off my soccer skillz), and we played ping-pong and cards all day. It was a wonderful time, and we all enjoyed the company of our students, especially seeing them in their home environment.
Around 7, we decided that we should probably get back to Quito. We were all waiting for the bus in the rain. When we saw our bus coming, Billie, Ben, Santiago, and I (Darren had to leave earlier) began saying our goodbyes to our friends. I was the last one in the departure line, and the other three had gotten on the bus. All of a sudden, the bus started pulling away, WITHOUT ME ON IT. Naturally, I started screaming, and despite the fact that Santiago was standing at the door OBVIOUSLY waiting for me, the bus driver did not stop. Thank GOD I didn't fall or anything (it was a miracle), because I had to RUN (what a joke) and jump (an even bigger joke) to get on the bus. I was literally screaming the entire time. The bus driver did not care. I just thank God that I didn't fall and get run over, because really? The bus still wouldn't have stopped. Don't worry, Mom, Ecuador is super safe! …
This past week was the last week of the TESOL course (thank GOD because it was INTENSE). Since I'm more comfortable in front of the students, I decided to try a game out of my students. There were two teams competing against each other, and let me just tell you that it resulted in everyone yelling (including me, but mine was “QUIET! QUIET! PLEASE! WE NEED TO BE QUIET!!” I'm a great teacher...), and I thought Henry was going to jump out the window because he was so into the game. I'm just glad that no one got hurt.
In other news, I got a job on Tuesday! It came as quite the surprise to everyone, and especially me! I'll be working as an 8th grade English teacher. I'll have 3 classes of 25 students each. I start already on Wednesday (yes, I start sweating just THINKING about it). I was interviewed by two people, in English (thank the LORD), and it was going really, really well. Until the following conversation took place:
John (interviewer): Well, Sara, we'd really like to see you do a practice lesson.
He pauses. During the pause I am thinking Oh Jesus no.
John continues: Could you do one for us?
Sara (I immediately break out into a sweat): A practice lesson? Right now? In front of students?
John: Oh! If you want to do it now, that would be so great! How about 10 minutes?
Sara (If I would have been standing, I would have fallen down): Oh yeah! Sure! I'd LOVE to! What do you want me to teach!?!? *insert nervous laughter here*
John: How about you review comparative adjectives?
(Comparativeadjectivescomparativeadjectives. For some reason my mind can't even process what sentence is, so what the HECK are comparative adjectives?)
John continues without skipping a beat: Like taller, more delicious, you know.
Sara: That sounds great! How about a game??
(internally FREAKING OUT)
John: Perfect. I'll see you in ten.
Ten minutes later, I found myself standing in front of about twenty five 13 year olds. Awesome. They are WILD, it was a zoo in there, and I was literally standing at the front of the room with my hands in the air, YELLING “BEEEEEEEEEEEE QUIETTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” It's going to be a good time! The students loved the game, and John must have thought that I did an alright job because when we walked out of the classroom he asked me when I could start. Well. THAT was unexpected. I accepted the position (It's not like I was getting any offers anywhere else), and went to talk about the logistics of the situation. So, surprise! I'm an 8th grade teacher in Ecuador, and I don't know that I've ever been more terrified.
Until next time,
Teacher Sara
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
I DO NOT KNOW WHAT YOU ARE SAY-ING.
You know how when you are talking to people that aren't native English speakers, you tend to talk LOUDER and YOU MAKE SURE EV-ER-Y SYL-LA-BLE IS DIS-TINCT? We also use our hands a LOT more, making WILD gestures, and making every thing seem so much BIGGER than it really is? We all do it, regardless of the fact that we realize that we are doing it. Take my dad (we all know how much I love my dad!) for example. When talking to Juan, our Spanish-speaking employee, my dad talks loudly, chops up his syllables, and waves his arms around like a maniac (for those of you who don't know my dad, you know how I talk with my hands all the time? I get it from him.). I will admit that it has gotten better over the years that Juan has worked for him, but my dad still talks slightly differently to Juan than to an English-speaking employee. Dad? If you're reading this (or when Mom tells you about it) I love you. :)
To anyone that I have ever talked LOUDER, more DIS-TINCT-LY, and almost hit you in the face with my outrageous gestures, I apologize. When I first arrived in Ecuador, people spoke like this to me in Spanish. Most of the time, it was because I asked them to repeat themselves because they
a. had food in their mouth as they were talking to me (my host sister is HORRIBLE with this),
b. mumbled, or
c. were talking so dang fast that I did, in fact, NEED them to slow down.
Now, this has gotten better, and I have really appreciated it. On Monday, however, I realized that, blast, I was doing the same thing to my STUDENTS (those poor things!). One of them kept asking me the same question over and over and OVER, and I literally said “I DO NOT KNOW WHAT YOU ARE SAY-ING. PLEASE ASK MAR-TI-NA (another student in the class) BE-CAUSE I CAN NOT HELP YOU.” please imagine – my mouth is over-exagerrating EVERY word, my arms are flying all over the place, and I'm practically YELLING. Oh. My. God. Poor, poor Juan Carlos. I hope that he shows up later today for class.
Changing topics, because it horrifies me to think about what I have done, over the weekend, I went to the grocery store “Supermaxi” - the popular chain. I was walking around, and found myself in the candy aisle (I love candy). I was browsing, and found at that after all of these years, all of our mothers were wrong: cough drops are, in fact, candy. There they hung, right in between the Jolly Ranchers and Blow Pops (which I bought). I would tell you that I wasn't sure that they were actually cough drops, but Halls? They had the pink AND the blue kind. So sorry to all of the mothers – and teachers – out there. You can no longer scold your children/students for sucking on cough drops like candy. Because they ARE candy. What a wonderful discovery!
Of course, like every other weekend, Sunday was once again family day. This week, however, everyone gathered at our teeny-tiny apartment. 40 people. I couldn't move and actually didn't move for most of the day in fear that I would lose my seat next to fun Aunt Sandra and cousin Salim (the cousin who *tried* teaching me salsa. Ha. I'm just happy that he still wants to be my friend) and have to go mingle with weird Uncle Marcello.
I've made another friend in the family – Cousin Sophie, age 3. I have NO idea why she's taken such a liking to me – I literally spoke maybe 5 words to her before this past Sunday, but right when she came into the house, she made her way to me and sat on my lap. Ummmm... Great? She has this squeaky little voice, and I can actually understand her when she speaks Spanish (it's surprisingly difficult to understand children speak Spanish). As she was sitting on my lap, she turned herself around so she was facing me, takes my face in her hands, and says “Sarita, you are so beautiful (awwwwwwwwwwwww)... Just like me.” Well thank you, Sophie, knowing that I am as beautiful as you is quite wonderful. I can't WAIT to see what you're like when you're older... Later on, she started touching my hair and said “Oh Sarita, I wish I had beautiful blonde hair just like you.” This kid is making me feel pretty good about myself. I'm excited to see her again on the next family day so that I can be showered with compliments once again. 3-year-old Sophie definitely makes me feel better than 84-year-old Grandma “Ah, Sarita, I think that you are taller.” (Shout-out to my dear Grandma Ann who tells all of her grandchildren that they have gotten taller every time she sees us) No, Grandma, it is more likely that at this point in life, you actually got shorter.
Because I have my “beautiful blonde hair” and am apparently getting taller by the week, I'm obviously (as we already know) easy to pick out of a crowd. Ecuadorians love helping foreigners, especially (as Henrry has told me) “gringas with blonde hair”. Great. I've started to notice this more and more, especially on my walks to and from school. About every other day, a car honks at me, and until Monday, I've been so confused as to why this happens. It's not when I'm crossing the street (which is so scary), but when I'm walking on an obvious cement sidewalk. On Monday, I got a glimpse of the person who honked at me, and they motioned that I get in the back of their car. Excuse me? I kept walking, but of course, I came to a red light, and found myself right BESIDE the car that a second ago told me to get in the car. They honked again, and did the motion again. I shook my head (looking terrified, I have no doubt), and the man says “You hitch-hike!” What? No. When I walk, I make a conscious effort to keep my hands at my sides/in my pockets so that I do not run into situations like this. I saw Henrry, one of my students, walking towards me, and I went over and greeted him to make it look like Hey! I have friends! Please leave this white girl alone. Henrry kindly explained to me that they really DID want to help me; Ecuadorians are “the nicest people in the world”. Maybe, but no, I will not be getting into any random cars while I am here.
UN-TIL NEXT TIME,
SA-RA
To anyone that I have ever talked LOUDER, more DIS-TINCT-LY, and almost hit you in the face with my outrageous gestures, I apologize. When I first arrived in Ecuador, people spoke like this to me in Spanish. Most of the time, it was because I asked them to repeat themselves because they
a. had food in their mouth as they were talking to me (my host sister is HORRIBLE with this),
b. mumbled, or
c. were talking so dang fast that I did, in fact, NEED them to slow down.
Now, this has gotten better, and I have really appreciated it. On Monday, however, I realized that, blast, I was doing the same thing to my STUDENTS (those poor things!). One of them kept asking me the same question over and over and OVER, and I literally said “I DO NOT KNOW WHAT YOU ARE SAY-ING. PLEASE ASK MAR-TI-NA (another student in the class) BE-CAUSE I CAN NOT HELP YOU.” please imagine – my mouth is over-exagerrating EVERY word, my arms are flying all over the place, and I'm practically YELLING. Oh. My. God. Poor, poor Juan Carlos. I hope that he shows up later today for class.
Changing topics, because it horrifies me to think about what I have done, over the weekend, I went to the grocery store “Supermaxi” - the popular chain. I was walking around, and found myself in the candy aisle (I love candy). I was browsing, and found at that after all of these years, all of our mothers were wrong: cough drops are, in fact, candy. There they hung, right in between the Jolly Ranchers and Blow Pops (which I bought). I would tell you that I wasn't sure that they were actually cough drops, but Halls? They had the pink AND the blue kind. So sorry to all of the mothers – and teachers – out there. You can no longer scold your children/students for sucking on cough drops like candy. Because they ARE candy. What a wonderful discovery!
Of course, like every other weekend, Sunday was once again family day. This week, however, everyone gathered at our teeny-tiny apartment. 40 people. I couldn't move and actually didn't move for most of the day in fear that I would lose my seat next to fun Aunt Sandra and cousin Salim (the cousin who *tried* teaching me salsa. Ha. I'm just happy that he still wants to be my friend) and have to go mingle with weird Uncle Marcello.
I've made another friend in the family – Cousin Sophie, age 3. I have NO idea why she's taken such a liking to me – I literally spoke maybe 5 words to her before this past Sunday, but right when she came into the house, she made her way to me and sat on my lap. Ummmm... Great? She has this squeaky little voice, and I can actually understand her when she speaks Spanish (it's surprisingly difficult to understand children speak Spanish). As she was sitting on my lap, she turned herself around so she was facing me, takes my face in her hands, and says “Sarita, you are so beautiful (awwwwwwwwwwwww)... Just like me.” Well thank you, Sophie, knowing that I am as beautiful as you is quite wonderful. I can't WAIT to see what you're like when you're older... Later on, she started touching my hair and said “Oh Sarita, I wish I had beautiful blonde hair just like you.” This kid is making me feel pretty good about myself. I'm excited to see her again on the next family day so that I can be showered with compliments once again. 3-year-old Sophie definitely makes me feel better than 84-year-old Grandma “Ah, Sarita, I think that you are taller.” (Shout-out to my dear Grandma Ann who tells all of her grandchildren that they have gotten taller every time she sees us) No, Grandma, it is more likely that at this point in life, you actually got shorter.
Because I have my “beautiful blonde hair” and am apparently getting taller by the week, I'm obviously (as we already know) easy to pick out of a crowd. Ecuadorians love helping foreigners, especially (as Henrry has told me) “gringas with blonde hair”. Great. I've started to notice this more and more, especially on my walks to and from school. About every other day, a car honks at me, and until Monday, I've been so confused as to why this happens. It's not when I'm crossing the street (which is so scary), but when I'm walking on an obvious cement sidewalk. On Monday, I got a glimpse of the person who honked at me, and they motioned that I get in the back of their car. Excuse me? I kept walking, but of course, I came to a red light, and found myself right BESIDE the car that a second ago told me to get in the car. They honked again, and did the motion again. I shook my head (looking terrified, I have no doubt), and the man says “You hitch-hike!” What? No. When I walk, I make a conscious effort to keep my hands at my sides/in my pockets so that I do not run into situations like this. I saw Henrry, one of my students, walking towards me, and I went over and greeted him to make it look like Hey! I have friends! Please leave this white girl alone. Henrry kindly explained to me that they really DID want to help me; Ecuadorians are “the nicest people in the world”. Maybe, but no, I will not be getting into any random cars while I am here.
UN-TIL NEXT TIME,
SA-RA
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