Tuesday February 25th
9:00am
I’m at my school, about to start another day of co-teaching.
I’m feeling down. I haven’t adjusted to the language barrier, and I miss
all the friends I made in orientation. As I go from class to class, the
inefficiencies of the Georgian education system add to my gloom. These kids
read and recite English all day, but can’t actually communicate in English at
all. They know more than I ever will about the past simple perfect whatever
tense, but can’t even ask me how old I am without a co-teacher translating. It
is legitimately baffling that any system of teaching a language could be so
terrible that years of study could yield absolutely zero ability to produce or
express ideas in said language. A co notices my mood and comments. I guess I’m
not a good actor. But I do love hanging out with my students, and today after
school I’ll get to join in on a traditional dance class with the high
schoolers. Surely I’ll find some energy to feed on there.
1:00pm
1:00pm
My co is reminded that the teachers have a funeral to attend
after school today. Will I join them? I’ll have to skip dance class. The one
thing I was looking forward too. But how can I say no? I’m a teacher in this
community, and I have social obligations to fulfil accordingly. Why can’t I
enjoy the independence of adult life without the responsibilities? Why can’t I
have my cake and eat it too?
3:00pm
3:00pm
The funeral is boring. We comfort the mourners for about
five minutes, then go wait in the yard with all the other guests. My female co
isn’t around and my male co is socializing with the other men, so I kind of
just stand around with the women, not knowing what the conversation is about
except when I look up to see that they are all smiling and staring at me as
they talk. They seem to adore me. Or at least the pretty, polite little slice
of me they interact with.
After what seems like forever, we load into a marshutka
(bus) and drive to the nearest “big” town for a supra (feast). I realize that
maybe this funeral thing is good for me right now…it gives me all afternoon to
quietly wallow in my misery. Sometimes I just need to wallow before I can get
back at it.
Perhaps "boring" isn't the best word choice?
ReplyDeleteBecause it is too indelicate for a funeral or because it falls short of describing the situation?
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