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Finally!

The other day I had an epiphany. I was writing a letter to a friend, trying to describe the difficulties of getting back into the school mindset, when I realized--oh!--that my greatest impact here is going to fall outside the structure of any school-mandated curriculum. I am not going to be a miracle teacher, revolutionizing the classroom and giving English like some gift to the kids in my classes. What was I thinking? I can't expect to change the whole educational system wholesale.

No. I've always known this, of course, but only now am I really beginning to accept that my primary influence is outside the classroom. This is a powerful realization: I must shift my focus, change how I set and evaluate my goals. I need to look for ways to connect with people--teachers and pupils--through after school programs.

This is a strange awakening after my 3 months of freedom. The summer passed in a blinding flash of English, friends, travel, and summer camps. It doesnt seem quite real, more like a daydream that I imagined up in a long break between classes.

* * *

The writing of this journal entry has been interrupted by a really bad and horribly frustrating week. All children are monsters. Teaching is the worst thing ever and I'm awful at it. All my lesson plans are doomed to failure and boredom. And to top it all off, it's getting cold and all my fall clothes are ugly and don't fit right.

Now that the week is thankfully over, we return you to your regularly scheduled Journal entry.

* * *

The strangest thing of all about coming back to school is how nothing has changed. I came back thinking, "I just need to be firm." But still no one could tell me anything definite. Even now I am not considered a "real teacher"--no one thinks of me when they make the schedule, my classes at the beginning of the year all conflicted. (Mostly fixed now.) I can have "anything I want," but still the master schedule hasn't changed. Communicating with teachers and administrators brings a string of laters and tomorrows, promises but no results. Progress comes only with acceptance that this is just the way things are, and I must work within the structure I am presented with. My powers of manipulation are limited. I must work within the program. So. Epiphany.

I work around. I target those who will meet me outside the program. My debate team: those are the kids I have made connections with. (Beautiful, sunny Katya. Outgoing "President" Ruslan. Clever Anya, who always surprises me. Shy, hardworking Kolya, determined Losha. Anya, Diana, Andrei, Timour, Artom, and all the others who have joined our group this year. These are the kids I know I can open windows for.)

So my new goal is: to find more ways to communicate with my pupils outside of "school." I want to offer extra classes after school, where I can take the topic they are studying and expand on it. Give fresh vocabulary, fluent dialogues--not the awkward, antiquated stuff that is in their textbooks and on their standardized exams. Two classes a week, I think. We'll see how it goes, and who attends.

So my general state of mind right now is fairly positive. (Especially after a long weekend to recover from last week's horribleness.) I've been keeping pretty busy, and things are slowly getting into gear.

You'll be hearing from me!

Yeah, yeah...I know already...

And actually I'm not going to post anything today, either, but I promise I'll update soon! I just want to tell you all that I've put up a new (if currently minimal) picture page, and also that the picture of me on the me page is updated. And I'll get you all up to date on my actual life and all that soon....

Something Smells

The heat is here, and it's driving me nauseous and lethargic. You know how I said, back when I was first taking about Peace Corps, that I didn't want to go to a hot country? That I don't really like the heat, and that Eastern Europe appeals in part because it's not...say...Africa? Since I got to Crimea I've been wondering how hot it really gets here. I can't really trust the locals. First of all, when they give me numbers they're always in Centigrade, not Fahrenheit. I haven't figured Centigrade out yet. Plus everyone gives a different answer anyway--no one really knows, I don't think. Then there's the whole exaggeration thing. Sure, it gets hot. But how hot? Ukrainians probably think 80 degrees (Fahrenheit) is sweltering. What can they really know about heat? I've lived in Hawaii. And most of you reading this probably remember a few years ago, during California's rolling blackouts, when it was so hot the train tracks warped. Now that's hot. Nah, I thought. It'll be hot here, but not THAT hot.

Then, about two weeks ago, the weather turned and I started to worry. Don't ask me what the temperature is, but I'm sweating a bunch. (Not any fun when you're having water issues AND hand-washing your clothes.) One woman I know tells me she loves it in July and August because it's hotter than this. "So hot you can't breathe." I might have chalked that up to exaggeration two weeks ago, but now? Hotter than this? This is plenty hot enough as far as I'm concerned.

A friend of mine, who arrived in Ukraine the year before me, says that last year it wasn't too hot. But then, she also says last year at the end of May she could still wear a light fleece and be comfortable. This year I'm desperately wishing I had more than one tank top, and at least one more short skirt--although by the time I get to the market I'm too hot to want to shop for new clothes. No, this is much hotter than it was last year.

I met a few friends in Simferopol on Saturday, and decided to wear my one tank top. This was really the first time I'd worn it outside, since it's not really school-appropriate. I almost wore my one short skirt, too, but decided I'm too white to show off both my pasty legs and my chalky shoulders. The old babushka (grandmother) who lives in my building and sits outside my entryway lectured me on my lack of color and told me I need to walk more in the mornings and evenings. And go sunbathing, of course. Ukrainians are big on sunbathing.

Well, I thought, I'll wear my tank top while we're walking around Simferopol, and after an hour I'll put on sunscreen. That'll get me a little pink, but nothing painful.

You all know where this is going, right?

I forgot the sunscreen.

I should note here that Ukrainians don't believe in sunscreen. The only reason I have any is because Peace Corps gave us some in our medical kits. You can't buy sunscreen in most stores here--it's more like a specialty, or even a luxury, item. So it's not like I could stop by any produkti (little store) or magazine (also a little store) in Simferopol and buy myself some sunscreen. So instead I just tied to stay in the shade or indoors as much as possible.

Didn't really work, although of course my sunburn could be much worse. I've had worse burns in my life. In fact, this one probably doesn't even make the top five. (Though possibly it's in the top ten.) But I'll definitely be peeling next week. Definitely. Only on my shoulders, though--my face is already so tan that it didn't get burnt. At least, not so I can feel it.

The heat has intensified the "aromatic" atmosphere of Crimea. A while back I went on a picnic, up the coast from Chernomorskoe, where the steppe meets the sea. Walking through the green grasses on the steppe, crushing them under our feet...it was a wonderful smell, so fresh and spicy. It could be the most wonderful thing I've ever smelled. That was the beginning.

Walking to school I smell a sweet, damp, musky scent, almost like fruit decaying. It's the soil, I think. The fruit is not ripe yet, much less decaying. Trees heavy with flowers and bees scent the air as I pass them. An intermittent breeze from the sea brings that salty fresh smell of water and seaweed, sand and sun.

And then there's the spicy, unpleasant smell of sweaty people. No one in Ukraine bathes the way Americans do. A shower every day? Not likely. Every other day? Remote possibility. And clothes are worn (and sweated in) multiple times before they are washed. So almost everyone smells, and not in a good way. And it's only going to get worse as the summer gets hotter, and more tourists descend on Crimea. Busses will be over-crowded and stuffy, with not nearly enough windows open (Ukrainians believe drafts make you sick), and unwashed, smelly people everywhere.

And, sadly, I'll probably be one of those people.

The problem is with clothing--I have only a limited amount. And Only a limited amount of time to do laundry. It's not like in America, where you can drop a dirty outfit in the wash as soon as you get home, make dinner while the wash swirls everything clean, then throw it in the drier while you eat. No, doing laundry by hand means filling up a tub and soaking the clothes for an hour or so, then scrubbing them (and why don't Ukrainians have washboards?), then rinsing them, then wringing them, then hanging them to dry on the balcony. It takes me a good half a day to wash one or two "loads," and then I have to wait for the clothes to dry.

And since I don't have much summer clothing, I always run out of "clean" things before I have time to wash the dirty. Especially since, unlike in winter, a shirt gets all sweaty and gross after I wear it just once.

I hate knowing that I smell. I hate smelling myself! And most of all I hate that I can do nothing about it.

This week I'm going to permit myself to buy two new sleeveless tops and a skirt of pair of shorts at the bazaar. I'm hoping if I go in the morning on a weekday there won't be too many people. Crowds make me claustrophobic. Wish me luck!

Contemplations and Quotations

The sky is overcast and the sea is a pale, pale blue. Two men are swimming. A woman sunbathes. An old man and his grandson walk in the sand. The tinny sound of bad Russian rap drifts down the beach from one of the cafes, where workers are cleaning and readying for summer tourists.

I come here to sit when I have a spare hour between classes, time to wait before the next activity starts. I like the solitude and the openness of the sea. Soon, I know, the beach will be crowded, full of towels, blankets, speedos, and bikinis, and I'll have to find my solitude somewhere else. Even at 9:30 on a Tuesday morning.

Today I am here with a bottle of water and a Snickers (breakfast of champions), waiting for the post office to open. They are on a cleaning break or something; the sign does not say why they're closed, just to come back later. But I could see someone inside mopping the floor, so in my mind I call it a cleaning break. I wrote two letters last weekend and need to buy envelopes. (Why can you buy envelopes only at the post office? This makes no sense to me. They must be for sale somewhere else, if I can only discover where...right?)

This morning I went to school to meet with one of the teachers whose classes I teach. We were deciding final grades for each pupil.

"He is strong in speaking and understanding, but reading and writing?"

"Yes, I know. He never does his homework."

"She is very shy. Sometimes I forget she is there."

"Next is your favorite..."

"Sasha."

"Sasha."

Sigh. "Oh, Sasha. What can we do about Sasha?"

Grading is difficult for me. Beyond the fact that I still don't remember everyone's name (I'm a horrible teacher), beyond grading using a different system, I sit there debating. A 9 or a 10? A B or an A? What does this grade do to a student? What does it mean, coming from me? Will a low grade turn this student off English? Will a higher grade motivate, make him work harder next year?

Strange maybe, to worry about grades, about the permanent impact of a number of a piece of paper. Does not my behavior in class have a greater effect? Yet sitting there I feel a fleeting sense of misplaced power: what I say today could effect a child's entire life.

Ridiculous. And not ridiculous.

Now I am on the beach with my sleeves rolled up, golden tan hands (from being so much outdoors in long sleeve shirts), pink arms, white shoulders. Watching the changing colors of the silent sea (oh how I miss the sound of waves): light blue, turquoise, navy, a hundred shades I have no name for.

I finished a book today, Mr. Wilson's Cabinet of Wonder, by Lawrence Weschler. An endnote quotes Albert Einstein. It is one of the more wonderful quotes I've read in a long time:

The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion which stands at the cradle of true art and true science. Whoever does not know it can no longer wonder, no longer marvel, is as good as dead, and his eyes are dimmed.

The sun is out and the sea is a bright azure blue. Down the beach someone wades cautiously into the water A woman plays in the sand with her daughter. The sunbather has put on a green sundress and is packing up. A truly awful cover of George Michael's Faith drifts down from the cafe....

I am Absolutely Insane

I'm sitting in the salon getting highlights. These are not minor highlights; they're half-my-hair-in-tinfoil highlights, and I'm afraid it was a very bad idea. It's too late to change my mind, of course. I suppose if they're really awful I can dye my hair again, but probably not today. Not before the whole school sees me tomorrow.

I'm afraid they're going to be pink.

This whole thing started a couple of weeks ago. I decided I was tired of the red and that I'd let it grow out. Of course that would leave me with major roots, so I thought maybe I'd try getting highlights, to help blend everything together. I discussed the idea with a friend who came to visit. We were watching The Terminal, admiring Catherine Zeta Jones's hair: straight shoulder-length cut with bangs at about eye-level. (Catherine Zeta Jones looks particularly gorgeous in The Terminal.)

My friend thought I wold look good with that hair style. This friend is very fashionable, and has been trying to make me a little fashionable, too. She encouraged me to go red in December and was thrilled when I bought the tight jeans. ("Carrie, those are not too tight.") Her long-term goal is to get me to pluck my eyebrows. I'm not ready for such a major step.

Still, somehow I found myself in the salon last Thursday getting bangs cut. Bangs! On me! I haven't had bangs since I was...13, maybe. And here I am today getting highlights. (Some of the tinfoil just came off. I can't tell, but it doesn't really look pink. Definitely yellow. Oh boy. What am I doing to myself?)

I'm not sure how I feel about the bangs, although I've had them long enough to get a little used to them. I don't freak out anymore when I feel them on my forehead; that was only the first couple of days. They don't look anything like Catherine Zeta Jones's, of course--they're very Ukrainian bangs--but I've received a lot of compliments on them. I met a few friends in Yevpatoria on Sunday and they all told me how good I am looking. (And since I don't get unprompted compliments from boys all that often....)

But now I've gone and gotten highlights! I'm sitting here waiting for the rest of the tinfoil to come out, and I have knots in my stomach. About hair!

What's come over me?

Upadate, Thursday: I don't like it. Highlights are always harsh at first, of course. I know that. I've seen friends get them. So I'm hoping they kind of blend in a bit more over the next couple of weeks. They're not pink, exactly, but the way the yellow lightens my hair has a pinkish tinge when seen all together. I'll try to get a picture to show you all.

Some Thoughts About the Summer

I'm on a bus, heading to Simferopol. It's travelling very slowly, and I wonder how long it will take us to get to Yevpatoria, where I'll switch busses, or maybe take a taxi instead. I can share a taxi with a few other people for not much more than a bus ticket, and the ride is considerably faster. (Only sometimes the taxi drivers are scary drivers.)

This bus is probably the oldest bus I've been on in Ukraine, which is saying something. I always breathe a sigh of relief when a bus here starts; it seems a chancy thing. On this particular bus I'm happy with both halves of the door slide closed--partially--as we move on after a stop. There's about a a 50-50 possibility that one side will stay stuck open. The passenger in the seat by the door pushes the open side closed (mostly) when it doesn't shut automatically. Only now that passenger has moved, so I wonder what will happen after the next stop? Not that I blame him for being nervous. This is not a smooth ride. I wouldn't want to be near a partially open door either, no matter how slow we're moving.

The landscape out the window has changed considerably since I last wrote to you from a bus. There are leaves on the trees lining the road, and green fields. To the left, until the road branches away, is an endless seeming field of bright yellow flowers. Too thick and even on the ground to be anything other than a sown field. What are they? The only yellow crop I know is mustard flowers, but I don't know enough to tell if that is what is growing there. I wish I had my camera. It is astonishingly beautiful.

The last time I took this road most fields were plowed a rich brown; now most are growing plants of various shades of green. Every field we pass I wonder what is growing there. What green thing is growing, and when will it show up in the bazaar for me to buy? Every day now I make myself a salad of cucumbers, tomatoes, and green onions. It is so good to have something other than potatoes. Each week now brings some new vegetable into season; soon I expect the fruit to begin appearing. Part of me wishes I could be here this summer to see everything as it ripens. But most of me is glad I will be gone, travelling, for a good part of June, July, and August.

I am going to Simferopol today, a 3.5 hour trip each way, to buy a train ticket. I might be able to buy one in Yevpatoria--I'm not sure, and it seems unlikely--but I'll be travelling with a friend and we want seats together. In Ukraine you can't buy a train ticket without showing your passport, so both of us must be there to buy the tickets. And we need to buy them early, because we've been told that the trains too and from Crimea fill up early in the summer. So we're buying out tickets a month ahead.

Where am I going? To Odessa by train, and from there by bus to Bolgrad. Bolgrad is a little town south of Odessa, near the Moldova border. (We can't go to Moldova. It's impossible for Americans to get visas.) A friend of mine lives in Bolgrad, and I'm going to work in the summer camp she's having. We Volunteers can't just travel where we like during the summer, even though there's no school. We actually have to take vacation days--we get 24 of them a year--if we want to go frolicking about. ("Frolicking" is such a good word!) Working at summer camps is a way to do a little bit of travelling throughout Ukraine without using our vacation days--which are best spent on international travel, if you ask me! I'm going to work in two or three camps this summer. (Two for sure; I'm waiting to hear if the third has room for me.) Next summer I'd like to have my own camp, once I've figured out exactly what a summer camp is. So this summer is research.

I've been fantasizing about summer travel in all my recent daydreams. I have lists of all the places I want to go:

• June: Odessa, Bolgrad, and Cherkasy in Ukraine.
• July: L'viv and Crakow. (Poland! Crakow's supposed to be a great city.)
• August: Romania? Remote possibility of Georgia and Armenia.
• Fall break: Egypt, if affordable and we can find a few guys to go with us.
• Christmas break: St Petersburg. Or maybe Turkey? Nepal? (Supposed to be beautiful in early January.) Somewhere!
• Spring Break: Turkey? Russia--Trans-Siberian Railway?
• Next summer: Bulgaria, Hungary, Romania? Must be around for people to visit me! (And if I travel with them, I won't have money to go anywhere else.)

More places or dreams than I have the time or money for--and I could add another 6 countries to list easily. But one must prioritize, even daydreams. They're more fun when they're somewhat realistic! I definitely want to take the Trans-Siberian Railway, if I can find someone else to go with. Not something I want to do on my own--too much time on a train, and there's no way I could bring enough books to keep myself occupied! (Anyone interested? Say next March or early summer? I'll speak Russian really well by then....) I want lots and lots of stamps in my passport by the time I leave Peace Corps.

And going to Simferopol to buy a train ticket is the beginning of it all. At least, that's how it feels today, on this bus, with the green fields rolling past. It's a beautiful day!

Catching Up

Well, I am behind myself. I had meant to tell you about the spring snowstorm with snowflakes like mini snowballs; the trip to visit a friend in Stariy Krym, where we found "Cognac Country"; and my second trip to Kyiv, during which I found out just how boring a 15-hour train ride can be. But I'm going to limit myself to just a few topics.

This is still going to be long.

New Apartment

March 27 was the day, Moving Day. I longed for it, dreamed of it, worried over it. From the day I arrived in Chernomorskoe, I had kindly souls telling me, "You need an apartment in the summer? Impossible!" My host mother, my coordinator, and the principal of my school all told me not to worry, but said nothing else. In February I heard that an apartment had been found, then two weeks later heard it had been rented to someone else--news heard only from indirect sources. So I stressed, and waited, and counted the days.

In the end, everything pulled together at the last minute, like a miracle. I saw the apartment on the 27th and moved in on the 28th--only one day late.

How to describe the apartment? It's in a small building, three stories with only about 9 apartments in the whole building. The bottom floor is given over to shops, most of which are empty. There's a small food store (I want to type "magazine," which is Russian for shop) and a store called "Everything for Home," but which didn't have any extension cords the one time I went in there, and only small sponges. My apartment in on the 2nd floor and the shop space underneath me is empty. Broken windows show a dark space, but I haven't looked too closely. It doesn't interest me.

The apartment itself is two rooms, which makes it a pretty big place by local standards, especially for someone living alone. Of course, two rooms doesn't mean two bedrooms. It means one bedroom and a living-room, plus a kitchen and bathroom. All this space is stuffed full of everything I could want, and then some. For example, I have two TVs, both about as old as you can get and still have color. One of them even works. (I get two channels.) I have an iron that stains anything it touches. I have probably 500 dusty old books...in Russian, of course. If I ever feel up for some light reading--Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky, or Pushkin--I've got a whole library to choose from. (This is, by the way, highly unlikely to ever be within my reach.) When I first moved in I pulled seemingly unlimited quantities of books off shelves and stuffed them into closets and cabinets, until I ran out of closets and cabinets. There are still a couple of bookcases sagging under several layers of books, but I was able to clear off enough to leave plenty of room for my own things.

The TVs, books, fancy shot glasses, and piles of old linens that threaten to rip when you touch them...well, they're only the beginning. There's also the abundance of furniture. Some Volunteers have empty apartments. I have so much furniture I don't know what to do with it. After I'd been here for a couple of weeks, my landlady told me that the neighbor, who had apparently planned to buy a couple of armchairs that were in the apartment, had changed her mind and would be bringing them back. I had no idea where they were supposed to go. Eventually I shoved them into a corner, displacing two regular chairs, which are now blocking one of the two doors to the balcony.

The upside is that I've got a nice big, unused table in the living room, and I bought a jigsaw puzzle to do. It's a perfect table for a jigsaw puzzle.

Still, there are surprising things missing. For example, I have only two teaspoons and only two knives. The knives don't really surprise me, actually--no one seems to have sharp knives--but considering how much tea people drink in this country I'm shocked about the teaspoons.

I had a friend come visit me the first weekend I was here. She was the first Volunteer to come see me in my town, let alone my apartment. She agreed that my apartment is very nice, for all the full cupboards and over-abundance of furniture. (We both got a good laugh out of the at-least-12-year-old sugar, "Made in the USSR," when we found it in the kitchen.) But she wasn't particularly impressed by my town. Her advice was to send lots of pictures home for sympathy so I'll get more care packages. It's certainly worked for her, because when I went to Kyiv last weekend she had 4 or 5 packages, and I had to help her carry one of the boxes home. She couldn't manage them all herself. (The joy of opening a package from home, by the way, is fabulous--even when it's not yours. "Is that peanut butter?" "Three jars! And peanut butter cups!" "Can I have one?" "Oooh--are those magazines?" "Julia Roberts had twins?!" "Look at all these spices!" "Hand sanitizer. You want some?" "No thanks, I have." And so on.)

I know my town isn't beautiful, but really to me it looks just like everywhere else I've seen. Sure the apartments in the Dimitryva district are ugly, but I don't think they really rate the Ugliest in Ukraine award. There's an awful lot of competition for that prize. Besides, I have a beach! And things are starting to clean up nicely as people prepare for the summer tourists, and all around things turn green. For a couple of weeks every tree in sights seemed to be covered with thousands white or pink blossoms, which--if a couple of freezes didn't kill them all--will turn into apricots and other fruit. There are no ornamental trees in this country.

The Walk to School

My new apartment is further from my school from where I lived with my host family. Actually, it's in a whole different town, called Novoselskoe--although I don't really see how it's any different from Chernomorskoe itself. But it does have it's own dot on the maps.

And I now have a much more rural walk to school, or at least the first 15 minutes of it. My walk takes me down a dirt road and past a small field where there are generally animals grazing--geese, chickens, and some bird that I think must be a turkey. (Guess I'm not a country girl if I don't know for sure!) Lately there have been sheep grazing there, strange long-haired animals that don't look like they've ever been shorn. I wonder what they're for? But they do have lambs that look the way lambs are supposed to. Sometimes I see cowns wandering around.

I walk down this little dirt road, and up a short hill that is so broken up and torn that I wonder how any cars manage it. (I've only seen one try it in the month I've lived here.) Someone told me that the kids use this as a sledding hill in the winter, even pouring water down to make it more slippery. It looks like a pretty dangerous and rocky sledding hill to me. Don't you generally want smooth hills?

Next I walk through the field of trash. It saddens me to see all the litter everywhere in Ukraine, but this field is worse than most. It borders the big apartment farm called Dimitryva, so I guess it must attract the debris from all the people living there. There are hundreds of plastic bags snagged on the grass, scraps of paper blowing here and there. Empty bottles. I would like to see Ukraine start up a public awareness campaign, begin to change people's attitudes. Some people realize that it's a bad thing, all the trash everywhere, but still they will throw a wrapper on the ground even if there's a trash bin two steps away. It makes me sad.

After this field I am in Chernomorskoe. It takes me about half an hour to get from my apartment to school, which is not a bad walk at all. There are also marshrutkas (busses) I can take, but I'm resisting figuring out their routes. The walk is good for me, and I have a feeling that once I learn how to take the marshrutka I'll walk less and less.

Teaching

I am ready for summer. The last day of school is June 1st, and I am anxiously awaiting it. Teaching has been hard and frustrating, especially now that the weather is nice and all the kids are halfway out the door to vacation. I don't feel like a real teacher, either--more like an imposter. I don't get the respect that other teachers get, which I suppose is natural. It's difficult to impose discipline when you can't fluently communicate. And since I'm on my own in the classroom most of the time, there is no other authority figure to make sure that the kids behave. Everything is made worse by the boys in the back of the room. Every classroom has a hefty percentage of students who have never bothered to learn any English but, because of the way the education system works here, are still in the same class as the kids who are interested and have learned a lot. The boys in the back of the classroom constantly talk, throw things, roughhouse, and just disrupt everything. They're very hard to deal with.

We Peace Corps Volunteers use the "Communicative Method," which means we try to make learning fun and play a lot of educational games in class. I draw pictures, play Bingo, give weird assignments like "What would you do if you had a million dollars." (Which ties in well with the If I had a Million Dollars song by Barenaked Ladies.) I hand out chocolate Easter eggs my mom sent me from America when one of the 7th formers tells me how they celebrate Easter (which was Sunday in Ukraine), and the prize for winning a game of Bingo is one playing card from a deck that has pictures of America on it. This is very different--most Ukrainian kids are used to learning things by repetition and rote memorization. It's exciting and they like it, but it makes they see me as something other than a "teacher," and more like a joke. I remember one of the Spanish teachers in my high school. She was from Uruguay, and everyone wanted to be in her class? Why? Because she was an easy grader and you wouldn't have to work veryhard if you were in her class.

I am now that teacher.

These days just the thought of school makes me grumpy, so I've been pretty grumpy for the last month or so. (This is why I haven't been writing. I can write when I'm depressed. I can write when I'm happy. But when I'm grumpy? Impossible.) Completely normal, but it's one of those endless loops of grumpiness. I'm in a bad mood. I know I'm in a bad mood. I can't do anything about being in a bad mood, which just puts me in a bad mood. Agh. This is why I'm looking forward to summer, to a couple months to clear my head and get things back in perspective.

Because really I know, intellectually, that they are learning from me. There's a lot a native English speaker can offer.

I wanted to share with you all one of the reading selections from the 9th grade textbook, used in almost all schools in Ukraine. (I have typed this very carefully to make sure I got it just right.) No author is cited, but it's the standard V.M. Plakhotnyk 9th form textbook, used everywhere in Ukraine. For your enjoyment...

THEY All ARE CRYING

Once during a family quarrel little Jim was punished by his parents. Being offended he decided to run away from home. By doing so he thought he would teach his parents a lesson. It turned out, however, that he could hardly stand even one day absence from home, especially when he learned from his neighbour that all home were crying after him. That is his story:

"I was slowly walking in the direction of Fryingpan Alley when I suddenly met Jerry, my next door neighbour and a good friend of mine. He embraced me with his arms, showing that he was glad to see me.

"What, Jim? Where are you going?" asked Jerry.

"I really don't know where I'm going, Jerry," I replied (answered) shaking hands with him. I am thinking of going home just to see..."

"Then you haven't been at home since the morning," Jerry's voice was trembling as he asked the question.

"No," I replied, "I've been away all day. How are they all, Jerry?" Jerry made no reply to my question. "If you haven't been at home, you had better go now," said he, giving me a jerk in the direction in which he wanted me to go. Jerry's behavior at once aroused my suspicions.

"I can go without your pulling, Jerry. What are you pulling me for?"

"Why, they are crying after you at home."

"Who is crying?"

"Who? Your father, and your mother, and young Poll."

Everyone is crying for me! My eyes filled with tears.

"Are you quite sure, Jerry?" I asked getting on my legs.

"Absolutely. I am telling you. They are all crying after you, and are waiting for you to come back."

New Kids in Town

When I first came to Ukraine I looked at the Volunteers we met with awe. Here were people who had already been through what I was beginning, who could speak Russian (or Ukrainian), who know how the trains work and where to go in the Peace Corps office, where to eat in Kyiv, how to get around. I looked at them with wonder, and felt very young. I wondered what they saw when they looked at me, this new arrival. I must seem so...young.

At the beginning of March the newest group of Trainees arrived in Ukraine and began their training. My group is no longer the youngest.

Two weekends ago I went to Kyiv for the first time since arriving here in Chernomorskoe. It was a great trip, very empowering. I bought the bus ticket to Simferopol by myself, and in Simferopol I bought the train tickets for myself and another Volunteer. We got on the right train at the right time, no problems. And in Kyiv we knew exactly which metro to take to the Peace Corps office; it was as though we were coming back to a city we already know. Our city. Strange how you can feel ownership of a place even when you barely speak the language, and haven't been there more than a half dozen times. But even so it was like a homecoming.

Almost everyone I was close with in Training was there, plus many other friends. We were in town for various meetings, a couple of which happened to be meeting on the same day. I was insanely glad to see everyone. We all shared our impossibilities, frustrations, and successes. Being there, I felt so much more comfortable; and it meant that, for the first time, going back to Chernomorskoe on Monday felt like going home.

Everything feels better. A trip to Kyiv after a couple of months at site should be mandatory.
PS: Inquiring minds want to know: when you pickle vegetables, how much of the vitamins do you lose? Are the vegetables still even remotely healthy? If not, we volunteers are all in trouble. (Especially the vegetarians.)

Spring Update

A week ago I saw leaves on some of the trees. First leaves! And lovely green things are peeking out of the ground. People are planting gardens. There are baby animals, lambs and calves.

Spring!

If another frost comes it will kill all the buds and we won't have much fruit this summer. Please send happy warm thoughts to Crimea.

I have just moved into my new apartment, where I'm all alone. Joy! Things have been busy here lately, and I have a lot to tell you all but very little time. I hope to sit down and write a lot this weekend, so look for a long update next week (really). For now...

Desvedanya. (Goodbye.)

Spring is here!

Last week was the 8th of March, Women's Day. This is a huge holiday, one of the biggest I've seen so far. We went to school the Saturday before so that Monday as well as Tuesday would be a free day. My pupils brought me flowers, chocolates, cards. They put on a small concert for the teachers, with singing and dancing. The party that followed was for teachers only; everyone--except me--brought a dish, and there was an enormous amount of food. (Next year I'll be prepared.)

Women's Day is apparently a big international holiday--who knew? When I say we don't have Women's Day in America, just Mother's Day, people are astonished. They look at me with faces that clearly say, How can you live without Women's Day?

My host mother and I spent a good part of Tuesday cooking dinner--though of course Grandmother and my host mother's sister also brought dishes. Towards the end of the day my host mom said to me, "Usually the men should do all this, to congratulate us, but since we have no men...." But that seems to be the general Ukrainian way--so many households without men.

The dinner we made was the greenest I'd seen in a while--because March First is officially Spring (at least it is in Ukraine), we celebrated with such luxuries as green onion, parsley, and lettuce garnishes. And I don't know where they came from, but there were pussywillows in a vase in the hallway.

Joy! Spring is coming! I couldn't feel it last week (in fact, the day after Women's Day brought a small snow storm), but today it is definitely here. Warm and fresh, with buds on the trees, and green peaking from the soil. It's wonderful, fabulous, delicious.

I long for warm weather, for summer. I lust after fresh fruits and vegetables, dream about cooking for myself.

But mostly I dream about summer clothes. I have two shirts and two skirts I can start wearing once the weather turns a bit warmer. This will nearly double my wardrobe.

I am so sick of my clothes.

I have one pair of black pants and once black skirt I can wear to school. I also have one light blue and one olive green sweater; this is what I wear every day. I have 3 or 4 t-shirts and blouses I can wear under the sweaters, and a pair of (tight) jeans for when I'm not working, but that's about it. It's excruciatingly boring.

You may be thinking that I must have less than my neighbors, but really I don't. Nobody here has a lot of clothes; it's perfectly normal to see people wear the same thing almost every day. That's probably why people take such good care of their clothes, changing as soon as they get home, brushing any dirt off their pants, obsessively cleaning their shoes. I am such a slob in comparison. I indifferently fold up my pants, don't iron all my shirts, and sometimes I even go outside without makeup! I'm a barbarian.

One thing I like about the Ukrainian soaps is how they're realistic about clothes. Take "Healing Love," whose confusing mess of relationships I wrote a bit about in my last entry. They wear the same clothes all the time in that show. Even the rich fiance-leaving princess seems to have a set number of outfits. The same clothes pop up all the time, and I'm always a little thrilled when something new appears. Is that a new dress Masha's wearing? I don't think I've seen that before! Cool! I wonder where she got the money?

American shows are so unrealistic. Even supposedly struggling families seem to have bottomless closets. You never see them wear the same thing twice.

But now it's Spring! Another couple of weeks and I'll be able to wear my blue skirt! Another month and I can add the lime-green knit top! Soon it'll be summer and I can wear sandals! And all the while I'll be eating salads, fruit, vegetables....mmmmm. It's beyond exciting.

How's your Russian coming?

So this seems to be like a good time to update you all on how well I'm communicating (or miscommunicating) in Russian these days. It's come up a few times recently.

First, there are a few phrases I somehow manage to say with a perfect accent, like "Nice to meet you" and "Very tasty, thank you." I'm not sure how it happens, but every once in a while out comes one of these phrases, and it confuses everyone who doesn't know me well. Actually, I think maybe it confuses some of those who know me well, too. It makes people think I'm a local, and that I understand way more than I do! Then they start talking really fast, and I don't understand a word.

But I've definitely learned a lot since I got to Chernomorskoe. (I now deserve that "Intermediate High" score I got at the end of my Peace Corps training.) Several people have commented on how much I've learned, including a few of the teachers at my school. My host sister said "You know a lot of words," which is a huge complement coming from her. And people I just me are always impressed.

"You speak with an accent," says the shopkeeper. "Where are you from?"
"I am from America."
"Oh! That's you! You work at the school?"
"Yes."
"How are our pupils?"
"Very good!"
"You speak very well."
"Thank you. Sometimes well, sometimes poorly."

Also, I can more or less understand what's happening on one of the two soaps we watch on weeknights (the one in Russian, not Clone). The love triangle is a breeze, and I know that the parents of the guy in the wheelchair are worried that their older son is responsible for their younger son's paralysis. Dad also discovered the drug problem, which is why they shipped him off to sea for a few months. (Not that that's going to last beyond one episode.) Then there's the rather dopey guy in love with the girl in love with the guy in the wheelchair, who's still in love with the girl who left him at the alter, who's in love with the drug-addict brother. But you get the picture. It's a soap, and I've got the relationships down.

That said, there's still a lot I don't understand. I mean, there's all this plotting going on. What's with the lighthouse guys and the explosives? The uncle is definitely up to no good, though I'm not sure what. Why do they periodically show a scene with the old doctor and his young wife--what do they have to do with anything? It's all beyond me.

The problem is, whenever anyone starts talking about non-tangibles, about things I can't confirm visually, I'm on shaky ground. In other words, whenever I have to rely on my own understanding, there's that nagging voice in the back of my head that says, "Yeah, well, you think they just told you school is canceled tomorrow, but are you sure?" And the answer is, inevitably, No. So, when I can't get hold of my coordinator, who I can ask in English, I spend a sleepless night trying to decide whether I should trust my understanding, or go in to school anyway. (Outcome: I actually had understood. School was canceled, and I got confirmation about 5 minutes before I would have needed to leave to arrive for the 8:00 starting bell.)

Still, this is a vast improvement from a few weeks ago, when I mistook the word "insult" for the word "lunch," and so misunderstood the question "Are you insulted?" as "Have you had lunch?" Much confusion ensued. Sure, maybe I'm not 100% confident that I understood all of that history lesson I gave you last week, but at least I understood some of it! And maybe I couldn't find any news articles to back up the rocket launcher bit, but that doesn't mean it didn't happen! After all, my news sources are limited.

It's nice to feel like I'm making some progress! (Now someone come visit me so I can show off.)

Don't you know how to spell the name of your own town?

Um....no.

My atlas (which I got after I'd been writing Chernomorskoe for a while) says Chornomors'ke. A friend told me that Google turns up more hits with Chernomoskoye. And I've also seen it spelled Chernomorskoye, and possibly every which-way in between. I really have no idea what's correct, so I'm just going to continue writing Chernomorskoe, since I'm used to it.

I learned something really interesting about Chernomorskoe recently; this was a "closed" town, visitors (especially foreigners) prohibited. I'm not sure how long it's been open--I think around 30 years--but I am the first foreigner ever to live in Chernormorskoe. That's one reason why I had such a hard time opening a bank account. No one had ever opened an account for a foreigner before.

Why was Chernormorskoe closed? Because this was a military town. A naval base, to be precise. Actually, I think it still is--although I don't notice sailors around. But yesterday Chernomorskoe made national news. Apparently they lost a rocket launcher or something. Only they didn't actually lose the rocket launcher; it just disappeared from one building and reappeared at another across town. (Actually, I'm not entirely sure what they lost, except that it was big, not a trivial thing to move.) My friend who explained it all to me thought it was really funny.

Yesterday was a History Day for me: after hearing about the whole rocket launcher escapade, my friend took me to see the ancient Greek ruins that are at one end of Chernormorskoe's beach. Several of her colleagues, who all teach at School Number 1, joined us. The sea was a beautiful, unreal turquoise, like a painting. We joked that we should have brought our swimming suits (it was very cold and windy). As we walked along the beach my friend occasionally picked up an unusual shell and gave it to a friend, saying that it was her "salary"--teachers in Chernomorskoe haven't been paid since December.

The ruins appear to have been a small settlement, or maybe they're just not completely excavated. From what I understand, after the Greeks left the Cossacks came, so the architecture is part Greek and part Cossack. In the summer archeologists come from all over, and they tell tourists about the history of the ruins. Some of the archeologists even speak English--supposedly.

Sometimes I wish Chernomorskoe were a bigger town, or at least had a more developed tourist industry. It's frustrating when my inadequate Russian keeps me from understanding things like this--such interesting topics.

And today a poem by Emily Dickinson

I took a poetry class in college on Emily Dickinson. Every week we read a handful of her poems, each student preparing an interpretation of one of them. Over the course of the semester we read most of her collected poems, and Emily Dickinson became (and still is) my favorite poet. (Although Shel Silverstein also holds a special place in my heart.)

Recently, going through the files on my computer in search of any materials I might be able to use in my classes, I found what must be a remnant of this class: a poem I'd typed and saved. So I had the chance to discover it anew, and find it now means more to me than it did before. I think it's beautiful, and want to share it with you:

'Tis so much joy! 'Tis so much joy!
If I should fail, what poverty!
And yet, as poor as I,
Have ventured all upon a throw!
Have gained! Yes! Hesitated so--
This side the Victory!

Life is but Life! And Death, but Death!
Bliss is, but Bliss, and Breath but Breath!
And if indeed I fail,
At least, to know the worst, is sweet!
Defeat means nothing but Defeat,
No drearier, can befall!

And if I gain! Oh Gun at Sea!
Oh Bells, that in the Steeples be!
At first, repeat it slow!
For Heaven is a different thing,
Conjectured, and waked sudden in--
And might extinguish me!

-- Emily Dickinson

Self-doubt of the day: Am I an even passable teacher? Are these kids learning anything from me that they wouldn't learn from their Ukrainian teachers? For that matter, do they even learn anything at all from me--would they be better off without me?

Can you send me info on San Francisco?

I'm trying to write a lesson about San Francisco, and would love to have a little more information...maybe some demographics, a little history, a couple of black and white photos or drawings that I can print out? Some of your memories and a fact or two you think is important? Specific information, please no big links. I know those sites are out there, but they take a lot of time to go through, and I never have enough time online.

Thanks!

Also, computer update: I am now sidetracked by hearing that there's a Habitat for Humanity project this summer in Warsaw. Hmm.

I finally bought new pants

I've needed to do it for...well, a long time. At least a couple of months. I meant to go last weekend, but the weather kept us indoors. (It was deemed too slippery to go out.) But today I managed it, and it wasn't as bad as I was afraid it would be.

My tutor went with me. I was really glad when she offered to go with me, not just because she speaks English (although I'm not sure how well she speaks, since we generally speak in Russian). Albina is young, maybe 29, and fun to talk to. She is married and has a 4-year-old daughter; she teaches English at School Number 1 (I teach at School Number 2). I didn't want to go alone, because--funny as it sounds--I don't really know how to shop in Ukraine. Customs are different.

We started off by going to the Rinok, or bazaar near my home. The Rinok is hard to describe; it's mostly a bunch of little shops with a wall surrounding them; most shops have roofs, and some have doors. Others are open in the front. I think the Rinok is a little confusing, like a labyrinth. Right now it's very wet; the weather today is a bit above freezing, and the snow and ice are melting. There are puddles everywhere. Last night I heard rain against my window.

We went to one shop at the Rinok. I went behind an itty-bitty curtain hung on the wall (more coverage than I expected, actually), and tried on several pairs of black pants. The first pair I tried fit, the second was too tight, the third too shiny. So I bought the first pair. They were 75 hr, or about $15. (But I don't like to think in dollars. It's misleading.)

Then to "Jeans World" (Djinsi Mir in Russian), which is actually a store downtown. (Going to a store, as opposed to a market, somehow makes me happy. And there weren't any jeans at the Rinok.) There I bought a pair of ridiculously tight jeans. I also tried on a more American pair, but was told by 3 people that they did not look as good on me. (I thought I looked less fat in them, but decided to yield to popular opinion. As one person said, "You're in Europe now. Not America.") Albina said the American pair were jeans you "work" in, not at all stylish. "They're for women over 40."

So I bought the super-tight jeans.

When I came home my host family wanted to see them, of course. They approve.

But everyone tells me I need to buy new boots now. With heels! (Not going to happen. Not the heels part, anyway.) You know the popular idea that when you're in the Peace Corps you are generally unstylish, not worrying about appearance or clothing? Well. Not in Peace Corps Ukraine. I worry much more about fashion here than I ever did in America.

Watching Clone

I swear that was Sinead O'Connor making an appearance on Clone tonight. Clone is a popular Brazilian soap opera that has been imported and dubbed in Ukrainian. It's on 5 nights a week, and I watch it every night with my host family. I'm not sure how long it's been running, but not more than a few months, so it probably only has another few months left. I'd give you a summary of the plot, but...well, it's a soap opera. A summary would take a long time.

Watching Clone is a bit of a surreal experience, because I think I should understand it, but I don't. The original language, which I can usually here a fair amount of underneath the dubbing, is Portuguese. Portuguese is close enough to Spanish that I almostfeel like I should be able to understand it. Ukrainian, the language it's dubbed to, is close enough to Russian that I feel like I should understand it.

It's an odd feeling.

Of course, if it were in Russian I probably still wouldn't understand everything, but more of it would make sense.

But what was Sinead O'Connor doing on a Brazilian soap? Was that really her? It sounded like her. It looked like her. But I thought she was off being monkish somewhere. Maybe she needed money?

So weird. Maybe it's my imagination.

Glad to be here

Written Monday in my notebook, waiting for my first class to begin:

Yesterday, walking in the bitter, bitter cold to the bazaar--and later to the internet club to check my email--I thought again how rarely I go anywhere in a car. Last weekend I took the Marshrutka (like a mini-van bus) to the post office instead of walking, and it was the first time in two weeks I'd been in an automobile. I don't usually miss cars, and I only noticed how long I'd gone without riding in a vehicle when I was sitting there thinking, "The last time I was in an automobile was the bus ride to Simferopol. That was 2 weeks ago today."

Yesterday I was wondering again (thanks to the cold and the snow) how long it had been--a week--and thinking how unlikely it was that I'd go anywhere by vehicle in the next week, maybe two. This was a pretty impressive thought. I wondered how long I could go? I would try to break the two-week record.

Walking to school this morning I go slowly--it's very, very slippery out, the sidewalks wavy, bumpy sheets of compacted snow. As I am leaving the Dimitriva Region (the community of huge apartment buildings where I live with my host family) a car pulls over, the door opens, and the director (principal) offers me a ride to school.

So I guess I won't be breaking that record this week.

After I wrote the above I went to the post office, where I finally received my first mail packet from Peace Corps in Kyiv; from now on I'll get them every two weeks. I had about 10 letters, plus administrative notices, a newspaper, a cookbook put together by the volunteers in Ukraine, and 4 Newsweeks. I devoured the letters first, then moved on to the magazines.

And reading all of this I suddenly realized how glad I am to be here, doing this thing that I've always wanted to do, but always worried would slip away from me in a constant stream of next years. (I wanted to be the Carrie that joined the Peace Corps, and not the Carrie who always meant to.) It hit me, finally, that I am here, no longer postponing the dream.

Reading random articles from Newsweek I suddenly started thinking about things I hadn't really thought about in almost 5 months. For all that the Orange Revolution made international waves, I've been pretty isolated. There was the first news I've had about the tsunami, beyond the brief news reports in a language I don't understand (Ukrainian) and passing mentions in too-short phone calls home. There are editorials about Bush's second term, reports of his inaugeral address. An interview with some of the actors up for Oscars. (The Oscars. I forgot about the Oscars!) Here's an article on VoiP, next to an article on Rumsfield and international defense spending.

Wow. I haven't thought about any of this stuff since I got to Ukraine. My life has been so full of just living, learning Russian, decrypting conversations with my host family, learning to teach, wondering when I'll finally get out there to buy a pair of pants that fit me. I worry about wanting a computer, think about the things I miss from the States, anxiously hope for mail, wonder when I'll next speak English with an American. I complain about the (quantity of) food, wish I had more stylish winter boots, despair of ever becoming fluent in Russian, agonize over lesson plans.

I think about how long it's been since I've ridden in a car.

I doubt I'll fall back into being so out-of-touch as I have been the last few months, but I must admit it's been nice. And I'm glad that these days I worry about whether the kids will think the lesson I have planned is fun, rather than whether I'll meet the deadline at work (which Newsweek tells me can increase your chances of having a heart attack by a factor of 6). Teaching is hard and a lot of the time I don't like it (I remind myself that the first year is always the hardest), but it's gratifying when the pupils are so obviously interested in me, when a class I sub for asks me to please come back, when I try something that I can see, yes, is working. Those are good feelings. Sometimes I think I'm not doing enough, but I've only been here (less than) two months--not everything can happen at once.

But there you go--a nice, introspective entry. (To follow the nice, materialistic entry. I should tell you that I wrote an even more materialistic entry, but decided I didn't want to let you all know I was quite that shallow, so I decided not to post it.)

want want want

I so want a new computer. Today I had made up my mind that I would--I would!--buy one. I would have my parents buy it for me, install the software I want, and send it to me through Meest, which is a reliable shipping method.

I made a list of what I want on my new computer (iTunes, an encyclopedia, a CD burner, image editing software, good sound, lots of harddrive space). I have some stock I can sell to pay for it. Why not, after all?

And then on my way to school I talked myself out of it. What exactly would I do with a new computer that I can't do with my old one? Internal dialog ensued:

You don't really need a computer.
Yes I do!
Really? Well what will you use it for?
I would watch movies.
You can watch movies on your old computer.
I can watch them, but I can't hear them.
Use headphones.
But I can't watch movies with anyone else. I can't use the movies I brought as teaching materials. (You know everyone would love Conjunction Junction!)
You're already embarrassed by all the stuff you have. Would you really want to go showing around a new computer?
Um. Maybe.
Mmm hmm.
Well, I could have more music!
You hardly ever listen to music.
That's because I can't hear it! Without headphones, anyway. Besides, I could have more music, and burn CDs to use as teaching materials.
Useful, yes. But not a good enough reason to buy a new computer.
I could play with pictures!
You don't have a digital camera.
I could buy one!
Jeez, Carrie, one excessive purchase at a time!
Ok, but I have pictures that other people took with their digital cameras. I could play with those.
You're not going to buy a new computer just so you can play with pictures.
*pout* I have the money. Why not spend it?
No, you don't. You can get the money. It's not the same thing.
Well, I already have problems with my old computer. I'm going to need a new computer eventually. Why not buy it now?
Because it might get stolen. Because you already have one. Because you don't really need it yet, and someday you might need the money more.
But I really want one!

On my way home from school I began to talk myself back into it, and then back out again. And then I got home and called another volunteer in Crimea. She HAS a nice computer, with a CD burner and iTunes. I was hoping she had a copy of "Let's Talk About Sex" by Salt n Peppa (or however it's spelled), which I really want to play for my debate team. (Their topic is "teenagers have the right to have sex," and this song would be a perfect teaching aid/discussion-starter.)

She didn't have the song, but she gave me some advice about the computer. "You should buy it. These are resources that can really help our teaching. We can be good teachers without them--but why not be great teachers?"

Having someone else justify the expense is nice, but I'm still fighting with myself. (I suppose that, of all the problems I could be having, wanting a new computer is pretty minor, huh?)

Are you prepared?

Today I came out of a lesson and saw one of the 8th forms in a class in the hallway. There was an olive-green blanket spread on the floor, and one of the boys (one of the smaller boys, who looks very young), was spread out on the blanket, pointing a rifle at a mural on the opposite wall. His classmates stood around, watching and laughing, while the instructor said a few words to him. I have seen that particular teacher around, although I have never met him. He is one of the few men at the school, and generally wears a uniform. Today he had on army fatigues.

Needless to say, this was a rather striking image, one you'd never see in America. I asked one of the English teachers what class it was, and she told me "Military Preparedness," although she wasn't sure if that was the correct translation. All able boys in Ukraine go into the army for a couple of years when they turn (I think) 17, although they can postpone their entrance for several years if they go to college. If they manage to avoid military service until they are (I think) 26, they are exempt. This, however, has its downside: you may be considered less of a man if you didn't serve in the military.

(Sidenote: I had an interesting attempted conversation with my host sister a while back, where I tried to explain American military service, including ROTC and the draft. I'm not sure how much she understood--those are rather complicated concepts to get across in remedial Russian.)

But here were these young boys, and girls, in school learning to be soldiers.

I've been meaning to tell you all a little about how schools work here in Ukraine, and this feels like a good time to do that. After all, the differences are on my mind.

In some ways, it's a lot the same. Young children go to kindergarten. When you're six, you start at school, in the 1st form. A form is like a grade. In America we have 12 grades; in Ukraine there are 11 forms. Since they start school around the same age as we do, the ages are about equivalent. In my 4th form class, most of the pupils are 10 years old. (I also turned 10 when I was in the 4th grade.)

The forms are divided into classes, which are groups of pupils that sit in the same room and study the same lessons every day; teachers move from room to room. There's an upper limit to how big a class can be, as there is in America. At my school, I believe the limit is 28 pupils, but I'm not sure. None of my classes are that big. My largest is about 24.

There are 7 periods in a day, which I think is a lot, although I don't remember how many I had in high school. School starts at 8:00 and ends at 2:35 for the older students. The younger forms (4th or 5th form and younger) begin and end later, and have a shorter day. They take fewer classes, although I'm not sure how many.

As I said, teachers move between classrooms; pupils stay in the same room all day. This allows the daily schedule to be changed whenever needed. There are no substitute teachers here. If someone is sick, the schedule is rearranged to move the empty period to the end of the day (so pupils can go home early), or to allow other teachers of the same subject to cover the lesson. For example, I could be asked to teach any English class at any time, if another teacher calls in sick. And I have gone in ready to teach the first lesson, only to learn that the schedule has gone all topsy-turvy, and I don't have a class until the 4th period.

Another striking difference is that in Ukraine (at the present time), a pupil can't flunk a class. That is, pupils are never held back. They are never prevented from enrolling in a class that they are not prepared for--not really surprising since they don't enroll for classes at all. This means that almost every class I teach has pupils with highly varied levels of understanding. One boy (and they are generally the boys) may not know how to say "My name is Sasha," while a girl (and they are generally the girls) can tell me all about her daily schedule and her plans after school.

It makes teaching a little harder. I find that I tend to ignore those students who aren't interested in learning, who have been coasting through the years of English. I never thought I'd do that, but part of me wonders, Why waste my time on them? It's so much more gratifying to work with the students who actually care.

Sometimes I like being a teacher. Today I taught my 6th form class, the ones I thought were impossible when I first came here. (And, truthfully, they're still a bit rowdy.) When I came in the room, and they saw I would be teaching today, they started jumping up and down, practically cheering. How could that not feel good?

On my first day teaching them, the 7th form asked me for my autograph. (That was a little weird, although it happens a lot to Peace Corps Volunteers. I told myself that they just want to see what an English signature looks like--our cursive is so different from Russian cursive. It's not about me, not really.)

But all the same, teaching is not what I want to do forever. Or at least, it's not all I want to do forever; maybe in the future I'll teach as a secondary activity, but not as my primary job. Right now I still plan to take the Foreign Service exam in a year or so. I can take it at the US Embassy in Kyiv.

Do you think I'd make a good diplomat?

On a cold day

Today, like yesterday, there is no heat in Chernomorskoe. If I believe what I'm told (and I don't quite), there is no heat in all of Crimea. The day is cold, windy, and rainy. The streets and sidewalks are muddy, and I have to walk carefully or I'll be half mud myself before I make it to school. Teachers and pupils wear jackets to their classes, which have been shortened from 45 to 30 minutes. Kindergartens have been closed.

All of this is being blamed on Yushenko, who was inaugurated Sunday. (Most people in Crimea, if you recall, support Yanukovich. Yushenko is disreputable, and obviously does not have the best interests of the people at heart. Or so seems to be the general consensus.) One teacher says that next the electricity will be turned off.

I tell my coordinator that I don't think Yushenko is responsible for this. Turning the heat off, I think, would be a stupid move for him to make--and I don't think Yushenko is stupid. I say this noncommittally; I must be careful because I'm in the teachers' lounge, a public area. Being publicly political--especially if I favor the hated Yushenko--could jeopardize my position in the school. Also, Peace Corps is a apolitical, nonreligious, governmental organization, as we all learned to say in Russian during training. As a representative of this organization, I must also be apolitical. At least in public.

My coordinator tentatively agrees: maybe it is the local (Crimean) government. But she is definitely not fond of Yushenko. She thinks he will make life more difficult for teachers, by discontinuing things like gas and electric subsidies for teachers. (Since teachers make so little money, the loss of those subsidies would be an extreme hardship. I'm not sure exactly how the subsidies work, though: I only have my coordinator's slight description of them to go on.)

Wednesday is usually a long day: I teach 6 classes, beginning with the 1 period and finishing up with the 6th. Then I go home for about half an hour, and on to the Children's Center, where the debate club meets. All in all, my day starts at 8:00 and ends at 5:00. I guess that doesn't sound too bad, but it feels much longer! Today, with the shortened classes, I finish much earlier and am home for a good 3 hours before going to the Children's Center, and even that meeting is shortened.

Such is life.

On Sunday I watched a little of the presidential inauguration. My host family (unusually for the area) is more pro-Yushenko than most, so they were very interested and had the TV on most of the day. It was quite interesting, with huge crowds. I watched Yushenko's speech, although I didn't understand most of it. (One problem being that he speaks in Ukrainian, not Russian.)

It's funny how I feel so out of the loop here. I don't really know what's going on in Ukraine, much less the rest of the world. All Peace Corps Volunteers get subscriptions to Newsweek magazine, but I haven't yet received my mail forwarded from Kyiv, so I haven't seen one yet. Watching the news is more about looking at the pretty pictures--news broadcasters speak incredibly fast. (I do a lot better with the soaps that everyone watches.) I have a shortwave radio that can pick up broadcasts from the BBC, but to be honest I don't listen to it very often. It's a solitary activity, and generally in the evening I'm either planning for classes the next day or talking to my host family. I don't feel like I can go to my room and fiddle with my radio.

But I suppose everything is going on much as usual. Somehow I don't think I'm missing a whole lot.

But...enough for today.

First mail received!

I went to the post office on Tuesday to check my mail, thinking it was probably still too soon, but that I might have something from the Peace Corps. Peace Corps sends us a mail package every two weeks--I am expecting my first soon--with any administrative notices, the PC Ukraine newsletter, our free Newsweek subscription, and (I hope) any letters that might have been sent to me at the Kyiv office. Packages are not forwarded--we must go to Kyiv to pick them up, although Peace Corps is kind enough to tell us when they arrive. I know, for example, that there is something waiting for me when I go to Kyiv again in March. It's a bit of a torment, to have to wait for another month and a half.

But, in any case, on Tuesday I went to check my mail. This was my third time to check since I opened the box at the beginning of the month, and I really expected it to remain empty until at least later this week. (Or only have another returned letter--apparently I must address all mail using blue or black ink. Green is not acceptable.) But joy! There was a letter in the box, and not from the Peace Corps! My very first letter came from America, not Ukraine. (Wonderful confirmation that the address is, in fact, correct.)

My mom sent the letter on January 6th. I received it on the 18th. A little less than 2 weeks en route--very good! I'm happy.

My mom asked me a question that I think I'll answer here: Am I happy about being in Crimea? Wasn't I hoping for someplace cold? (Did I think all of Ukraine was cold?) I do like the sea, right?

Am I happy about being in Ukraine? I'm not sure, actually! If I'm being honest, that is. There are a lot of good things about where I am. For example, my friends will want to visit me. And by friends I don't mean you all back home--although of course I hope you'll want to visit me, too. My Peace Corps friends will want to visit. My site makes me a Destination. If you want to go to the beach in the summer, you go to visit a PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) who lives on the beach, like I do, and crash on the floor for a few days. Being in Crimea also means I'll have some wonderful fruits and vegetables during the summer. That would be true anywhere in Ukraine, but it's especially true here, and the growing season is longer here--because it's warmer. My Russian will probably improve a lot here, because most people speak it exclusively. I probably won't pick up much Ukrainian. (For the most part, Crimea doesn't consider itself part of Ukraine. I find myself thinking that way, too. I live in Crimea, not Ukraine.) There's a lot of diversity here, which is nice. And my town is bigger, which means there's internet. On the other hand, I think it will be awfully hot in the summer. There will be huge crowds, and I don't like crowds. Things will be more expensive, because I'm in an (up-and-coming) resort town. But...those are small things, really. And I am where I am. It's in my best interests to be happy with it. I don't think too much about what I wanted. What good does that do?

Wasn't I hoping for someplace cold? Yes. I wanted heaps of snow in the winter. I wanted cool summers. I wanted to trudge uphill (both ways) to school every day and come home with the beginnings of frost bite, wrap myself in a blanket, and drink tea while I wrote in my journal or worked on lesson plans. I don't know why this appeals to me. I'm a little weird.

Did I think all of Ukraine was cold? No. I knew it was warm in parts of Ukraine, but I didn't really expect to be sent to those parts. The vast majority of Volunteers go to cold places; anywhere in Crimea is considered prime because it's warm. I also told Peace Corps I'd be happy in the cold, so I fully expected to be sent to some remote little village in Eastern Ukraine. I was really surprised to get a site in Crimea; I hadn't thought it was a possibility. (Most of the Trainees studying Russian dreamed about a Crimean assignment.)

I do like the sea, right? Yes, I love the sea. I love to look at the sea, and listen to the waves and the birds. I love the smell of the air. I love walking barefoot in the sand. I love scanning the beach for shells, and letting the waves lap at my feet. I like to sit in the sand with a book or a paper and pen. I don't like to swim in the sea, though--I like rivers. (Wondering why? Because I can't stand all the sand that gets in your swimsuit when waves crash over you.) I prefer empty beaches, though. I like the solitude of a lonely walk along the coast. It's been a long time since I've gone to a crowded beach. I guess I'll see what it's like in a few months--because the beaches here will definitely be crowded!

All in all, I'm looking forward to summer. I'll be living on my own then--I'm really anticipating April, when I move into my own apartment. I'm excited about cooking for myself, and all the bounty of produce that will be at the markets. I want to learn how to can, which is good--I'll be really glad to have the canned goods in winter. It will be nice to walk around in short sleeves. And I'm very curious to see what this town looks like when all the stores are open, and the streets full, and the trees green. I think the transformation will take me by surprise, even though I am expecting it.

My friend Raisa talks about how she would love to open up a coffee shop in her town. I have the same fantasy. A nice, American coffee shop, with an espresso machine. And maybe a bookshelf with books in English. And big, comfortable, plush chairs. And wireless internet access! Someplace you could sit and drink endless cups of coffee, and have quiet conversation. Oh, it would be heaven. I think that would be a good way to live. (Although I have no idea if you could actually make a living at it.)

Note: Three posts today. Have written several times since I last made it to the Internet Club, so continue below....

Notes written while on the bus

I am on a bus, going to Simferopl for the day. It's a long trip--about 3 hours--and I have been watching the landscape pass me by for 45 minutes.

How to describe what I see? I am struck, as always, by the age of everything. All the buildings are old, with concrete crumbling in places and years of dirt making patterns on the paint. It is winter and even the landscape is old. The grass is old, the trees are old, the rocks are old. The sea is old. The sky is gray and old. A black bird sits high on a bare tree. Maybe he has been there, unmoving, for years.

We pass structures that I guess were once greenhouses. Now they are empty skeletons, glassless and dark. Sometimes I see clusters of concrete pillars, half-built buildings long since abandoned, now with waves of rust decorating their sides.

This is how Crimea feels to me: like an old woman who, waking up in the morning, asks herself, "Why bother getting dressed today? Life is difficult." Crimea feels old and tired. It is not vibrant the way Kyiv is, the way Madrid felt to me. Those cities are full of history that is still happening. They are old ladies who woke up and said, "Today I will wear purple!" (If you've ever read the poem, When I'm an Old Lady I Shall Wear Purple.)

But underneath this old Crimea I can see a shadow of a different Crimea, the Crimea of the summer. When those trees have leaves they will be so beautiful. When the fields are green they'll seem so fresh. Those houses, now so run-down, in summer must look quaint and welcoming. People will flock here; the population of Chernomorskoe will double.

In summer, things Happen in Crimea.

Maybe these thoughts are a reflection of a gloomy mood, although I don't feel particularly gloomy. I feel introspective. (Having recently been in a variety of gloomy moods, I think I can recognize the difference.)

The first day of school

Wednesday (yesterday, as I write this) was the first day of school. Suddenly the weather has turned beautiful and warm. The sun is out, the birds singing (the stray dogs barking), and the mud in the streets mostly dry. It feels like summer, or at least spring.

I had 5 classes on the first day: two 8th form classes, two 9th form, and one 7th form. All but the 7th form are my coordinators classes (this means that she usually teaches them, and now we'll be sharing the responsibility). Because she's in Simferopol for a class this week, I taught my first classes all by myself, just me and the students. (Only you never call them students here. Students go to college. Pupils go to school.)

I had decided that the first lesson for each class should be more informal. I wanted the pupils to be able ask me all their questions, since I knew they are very curious about me. I wanted a chance to gauge how well they understand me, and how much English they can speak. This is a very nice idea, but it's hard to implement. They're shy to speak in front of me and, even when they understand what I say, try to reply in Russian. The lessons are 45 minutes long, and for the most part they loosened up by the end. But it definitely felt like hard going. And I'm not sure what they thought of me. I'm interesting, but I'm also more difficult to understand. They're probably waiting to see what happens next.

Today I did not teach; none of my classes were meeting today. (This may change with the schedule, which is under revision. Except at the rate things are moving I suspect the new schedule will never be finished, and things will stay as they are.) I had most of the day free to work on lesson plans and procrastinate.

I also had a meeting with the director (I think) of the town after school Center. I'm actually not sure what this place is called, but it's a center where pupils involved in after school activities have classes. For example, there is a sewing class, an art class, a computer class, a music class, and a dance class.

And there's a debate class. Up until now the debates have all been in Russian. But now I'm here, they want to try and have debates in English. Apparently there are teams in other cities, including Simferopol, that have the English component, and the Chernomorskoe kids are pretty excited to join them. There are two groups here, one for younger pupils (pre-teens) and one for teenagers. The teenagers are about to start working on a new topic. The next debate will be on whether young people should be allowed to "make love," as the pupil who translated for me said.

I have no idea how this is going to work, but it will be fun to find out! Hopefully there's another volunteer out there who is involved in this and can help me figure out what I'm supposed to do.

Hunting mushrooms

So I've realized I talk an awful lot about food. All my letters, all my conversations...food's an issue that always comes up. So I was going to try to stay away from the subject for a while. But I just have to tell you about this.

Ukrainians love mushrooms. And this is not just about eating mushrooms, it's about gathering them. Everyone does it. It's like a national sport, I think. (For example, I have a copy of a Russian version of Goldielocks and the 3 Bears in which Goldielocks goes into the forest to gather mushrooms with her friends, where she meets the bears.) In most of Ukraine people gather mushrooms in the forest. But in Crimea the mushrooms are on the Steppe.

On Tuesday I went with my host sister and her uncle, cousin, and Grandmother to gather mushrooms. We bundled up nice and warm, then drove to the Steppe. Or maybe I should say "drove on the Steppe," since we only paid attention to the roads part of the time.

The Steppe is a huge expanse, a flat forever. I don't know what it looks like at other times of the year (I would guess much the same--it seems like it should be unchanging), but now it is a light brown, like the California hills during the summer. There are stretches of short grass, maybe ankle-high, and patches where there is almost no grass to speak of. The sky was a big, pale blue.

Hunting mushrooms is taking a solitary walk in this big expanse. You stroll, meander, pick a direction and wander. You scan the ground, looking for the smooth brown lumps that are mushrooms. When you find one, you stoop down and cut it out of the ground with a knife. You look underneath. A good mushroom is brown on top and white underneath. If the mushroom you picked isn't brown on top and white underneath, throw it out. If it is, put it in your bucket.

Note to the kids: The above Good Mushroom/Bad Mushroom rules only apply to Crimean Steppe mushrooms. Don't try this at home.

We spent most of the day on Steppe looking for mushrooms. It was a beautiful day, and all of us were glad to be out. But this isn't the best time of the year for mushrooms (autumn is better), so we didn't find too many--only about a kilo between the 5 of us.

Now, as I'm sure you can image, we can't quite eat that many mushrooms all at once. So we canned most of them.

Perhaps you're wondering how to can mushrooms? (I certainly was.) Well! You've come to the right place. It's actually really easy--I was expecting something much more difficult. All you really do is boil them. First clean them, of course. Then boil them for 40 minutes. Add some salt and peppercorns. Ladle them into a sterile jar and add about a tablespoon of vinegar. Seal the jars up and leave them upside-down overnight.

And you have canned mushrooms!

I'm sorry. I think this is all really cool.

And the post that was!

So! My last post worked, which is happy for me. But I'm having trouble logging on to update the rest of my website, so my address might not be there when you read this. Check back in a day or so and all should be better.

Also, just so you don't all go worrying about me, I'm just fine. All my griping about culture shock is a temporary thing. Happier days are already here.

School starts on Wednesday. I'll try to update you next week.

The post that doesn't want to post

I should tell you I'm suffering from the second bout of culture shock, which hits most of us when we arrive "at site," meaning the towns where we'll be living for the next two years. I'm certainly not immune. It's hard to suddenly be alone, adrift... I have no native English speakers around me, and not many people who speak English even as a second language. So there's no one I can really communicate with, and no one who I can depend on to translate for me. In the end this will make my Russian better, but for now I'm lonely and frustrated.

For me, this is much more difficult than coming to Ukraine in the first place was. I was just adjusting to my first home here (and the constant business), feeling comfortable with my family in Berezan and like I could finally talk to them. Now I'm in an unfamiliar place, far from the close friends I made during training, and feeling like I can't communicate at all with my new host family.

It's frustrating, challenging, draining, and I completely understand why so many people end up leaving after this transition.

Not that I'm going to leave. I'm just....ready for school to start, so I have something to do. (The spring term starts January 11th.) And I make lists in my head of all the things I'll do differently when I have my own apartment. (I'll wash all my dishes with soap. If I make soup with chicken, I'll take the chicken off the bones. I'll walk around the house without slippers whenever I want to. Maybe even without socks.)

All of which is just to say things are moving along. All is well. And I'll probably sound a bit more cheerful next time you hear from me. For now...

Last week someone pinched me to see if I was real. She was a teacher at the school where I'll be teaching English, one of the older teachers who I think has been there for a long time. I went to the New Years party at the school, and she asked me, "You're from America?" (In Russian of course.) And I said Yes, I'm from America. And then she pinched me, just to make sure.

I had heard that this might happen sometimes, but I thought it was a joke, or an exaggeration. Besides, this is a "resort town" that presumably gets a lot of tourists from all over, and Crimea itself has much more diversity than the rest of Ukraine. To be sure, the teacher was laughing when she squeezed me, but all the same.... I am unexpected, like a gift to the school just in time for the New Year.

In Ukraine, New Years is the biggest holiday of the year. It's a family holiday, when Santa (or Grandfather Frost) comes and gifts are exchanged and everyone is with their families. Christmas, which comes on January 6th in the Orthodox church, is not so celebrated. I'm told that this is because under the Soviet Union religious holidays were banned. People began celebrating New Years because it is secular, and could be celebrated openly.

So I arrived in Ukraine just in time for the biggest holiday of the year, Thanksgiving and Christmas combined. I spent a good part of the 31st cooking with my new host mother. In the late evening we took a nap, and then got up at 12:00 to celebrate and eat the big dinner we'd cooked. There were several different kinds of salad, a goose, and fried potatoes. (Probably more, but I've forgotten.) We also exchanged gifts. This was just the immediate family: host mom, son, and daughter. (The son is a university student who is visiting for the holiday.)

On New Years Day we had lunch with the extended family, and there was just as much food then as there had been the day before. I met most of the family, I think. At least the mother's side. Dad is out of the picture, so I'm not sure if I'll meet anyone from that side of the family.

The next day, January 2, I went to a "concert" in Simferopol, which is a good 2 hour bus ride away (if you're making really good time, which we did). The concert was for the children of the people who work in the town administration, if I understood correctly. The buss was full of children, and the concert--actually a play--was very much for the kids. (I found myself thinking that it was rather long, and no one in America would expect kids to sit still for so long. But these kids were fine. I wonder what that says about us as Americans?) That's how I found myself watching a Russian musical production of the Wizard of Oz.

Of course, I didn't figure out it was the wizard of Oz until Dorothy (not named Dorothy) and Toto (not called Toto) had been given the ruby slippers (not ruby) and were following the Yellow Brick road. It was a pretty good production, and I understood what was going on, for the most part. Of course, I'm sure it helped that I knew the story!

Afterwards we went to McDonalds, which was a big treat for the kids. (Although one of them had a meltdown because his mom wouldn't buy the happy meal.) I've already discovered that I now love McDonalds. I never thought that could happen. I mean, I knew I loved their fries, but I never thought I'd think their Double Cheeseburger Menu (spelled phonetically in Russian) would taste like a little bit of heaven. I think the processing and preservatives remind me of home.

Pretty much all of us feel like that. Every time we went into Kyiv during training, McDonalds was a prime destination. One of my friends went 3 times in a 24 hour period. I never hit that high, but I did manage to visit twice in 2 hours. (On the second visit I limited myself to an icecream cone.)

After McDonalds, on the bus ride back from Simferopol, I made a list of the things I've learned in Ukraine:

1. McDonalds is amazing.
2. New Years is a family holiday.
3. Yes, there really are women who are that skinny.
4. It's possible to lose weight even while eating a diet entirely composed of starches and fats.
5. I never want to own another car.
6. Tight pants are in.
7. Fur is cool. PETA doesn't come from Eastern Europe.
8. Never throw away a plastic bag. These things aren't free, you know!
9. All the modern conveniences include: electricity, gas heating, hot water, a refridgerator, an electric tea kettle, and an indoor bathroom. (Washing machine is optional.)

I guess that's it for today. Please note my new address. I also updated the FAQ.