After 7 weeks, I got to take a HOT shower. Thank GOD.

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.