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.