A Wonderful Weekend Part 1

I’ve not been in my new village, Khovle, for a week yet, but I’m already feeling a lot better.

Part of it is recalibrating myself. Realizing that I need to be more realistic and flexible with my goals and teaching strategies. And with Georgia in general. She’s not the most organized, but she’s good at surprises. I guess it’s time to learn how to enjoy not being in control.

The other part is that I had a really great weekend. My friend the Irishman is teaching in the next village over, so I decided I could stay and settle in with the new family but still get some fluent English interaction.

Saturday, March 22, 2014

11:30am

As my host sibs and I walk to meet the Irishman on the main road, we are joined by a couple of neighbor kids. I don’t know if they were originally planning on coming over, but they accompany us back to the house. We have to wait a few minutes for lunch. I ask my host siblings to get out their panduri, a traditional Georgian instrument, and with a little encouragement my host sis and neighbor girl play and sing for us. Then the Irishman takes out his mandolin and plays a tune. I film and take pictures the whole time and probably look like a good soccer mom in the making. But can you blame me? This is really cool. The kids know some English and we know some Georgian, but we all know music.

12:15pm

The Irishman and I are sitting around a table with my host siblings and the neighbor kids while my host mother serves us some wonderful dishes. She then gets out her home-made liquor and pours everyone a shot. Yes. Everyone.

We do a few different toasts-to Georgia and Ireland and America sitting at the same table, to friends, to family. I and my host sister are the only ones who can’t throw back a whole shot.

What can I say? This is Georgia.

1:30pm

The kids are ready to guide me and the Irishman up Cross Mountain, upon which, as you might guess, there is a large cross. The house is literally at the foot of the mountain. We cross the road and are there. On the way up, we come across a herd of cows, a 200-year-old bridge, and amazing views from which you can see Khovle, the Irishman’s village, a couple of nearby towns, the ruins of old churches that have been in the village for centuries, and even an ancient house which was excavated by archeologists from the U.S.

We laugh, have a moss fight, pick flowers, and try to light prayer candles at the cross on top. The wind thwarts the candle lighting. But the neighbor boy still leaves a mark by writing our names and “best friends” on the back of the cross. Vandalism? Maybe. Super sweet? Absolutely.

It's a Good Day to Have a Good Day

Wednesday, March 5^th

My three-day weekend with friends was definitely as refreshing as I needed it to be.

Then, on the bus ride back to Zovreti from Zestaphoni, I sat beside one of my fifth graders and we taught each other words. He was honestly already one of my favorites. He’s an adorable kid with this girlfriend in sixth grade who is at least a head taller than him. He sits in the front of the class and looks at me with these bright blue eyes and eager smile. I want to huggle him up.


Then, yesterday, I finally got to attend dance class with some of my high school students. It was fun, both dancing and hanging out with them. And the dance teachers are both in their early twenties, which is cool for me.

12:30pm

We are reviewing a reading with the second grade class. It’s simple, but they still don’t fully get it. In traditional Russian-inspired Georgian style, my female co has a few different students read one at a time while the rest of the class listens…or doesn’t listen. Usually the latter. But it isn’t long before she looks to me and says, “shall we do something with them?” I love it when she asks me this. She really does understand that the read and regurgitate method doesn’t necessitate actual understanding, and she has noticed that activities which get the students involved are more effective. I think making these teachers realize that they have to try new methods is half of the battle.

So I end up reviewing numbers 1-10 with them. I hold up however many fingers and a dozen exited little voices scramble to say the correct number in English. They are so cute, we can’t help but grin when they keep getting hung up on the number 5.

Then, something even better happens. My co takes over again and chooses the next activity. This may not seem like a big deal to you, but to me, it means a lot. Getting Georgian teachers to realize that student engagement is more effective than zombie-learning is half the battle. Getting Georgian teachers to experiment with engaging activities is the other half.

1:30pm

Only one student is present in the 12^th grade class today.  After the three of us chat for a while, my co having to translate the whole conversation, I give him a challenge. My co will choose ten words. I will learn them in Georgian, and he will learn them in English. On Friday, she will quiz us to see who has learned more. He accepts the challenge, and the trash talking commences. With frequent pauses to ask for more English synonyms of win, of course.

2:00pm

It’s time for my weekly extra English class for grades 7-9. We do a number of activities, including a couple that my male co suggested.

On the walk home, we chat and giggle and I answer a dozen questions that we reviewed in the lesson. “What music do you like,” “What sports do you like,” etc. I happily let them practice their English with me. And I soak up the interaction.

5:00pm

It's a beautiful day, so I decide to go for a walk. The neighbors stare at me as I pass by, either because I am the new American teacher or just because Georgians are lazy and going for a walk on any day seems silly.

I go to the school, and see one of my students there. He, his mom, and his little sister are cleaning the school. I share a very light-hearted but linguistically limited chat with them and head back down the road. I’m not far before I run into a random village dude, and then some of the kids who live in the houses nearby. I recognize a couple, including a little buddy of mine from the dance studio. I meet their mom and hang out with them for a bit. They bring out their adorable puppy, I get out my camera, and we take a million photos.

7:00pm

At home, when we sit down for dinner, my host mom gives me a normal size plate instead of a big bowl, which is also a victory of sorts. Traditional Georgian hospitality requires that hosts feed their guests to their hearts’ content. In real life, that seems to translate into feeding them a dubious amount of food no matter how realistically said amount can fit into a guest’s stomach.

10:00pm

I even get to take a shower tonight. I don’t get to bathe myself, as the mom holds the shower head for me…again. I’m not really sure how to politely ask to bathe myself. But afterwards I am at least able to convince her that I can brush my own hair this time. It’s a step.

So this is still hard. And I am still thinking that next semester I should find a place where I can be surrounded by other young adventurers who speak English. But right now, all I can do is take it one day at a time. And today, I had a really good day.