Holiday Spirit

So the holiday season is starting to make me miss home. When Thanksgiving rolled around, no one celebrates it here, so there wasn’t a constant reminder that I’m not home for Thanksgiving. So Thanksgiving came and went without causing me too much homesickness. 

But Christmas is a different story. Christmas here is celebrated on Old Christmas, January 7. And so far, it’s not nearly as commercial as it is in USA. I only started seeing Christmas decorations for sell about two weeks ago, and I only started seeing decorations put up last weekend. The nice thing about this is that I wasn’t being reminded that it’s Christmas time since October. But now that the decorations are starting to be displayed, it does make me miss home. However, Moldova once again aims to make me happy. Wednesday was Roman’s 60th birthday, so we had a celebration. We had dinner at the only restaurant in my village with lots of my host family’s friends. We ate, we drank, we talk, we danced. It was a lot of fun. Plus, I got a picture of my host parents. It’s not the picture I was hoping for, but I think it captures them perfectly: Roman causing trouble and Parascovia scolding him. I love this picture of them.

My host family: sitting are my host mom, Parascovia, and my host dad, Roman.  My host brother standing; he lives in Spain and he was visiting for Roman's birthday.

Additionally, there was a school Christmas concert this week. Last weekend, some eighth grade girls asked me to sing with them in school concert. I said that I would, and we sang “Jingle Bell Rock” together on Thursday. The girls were very impressed that I had the words memorized by our second rehearsal, but I reminded them that I have been singing along with this song since I was a child. 

The school concert was various musical performances by the students. Many singers, some dancing, and a pair of students played instruments. Now, I have song in choirs and preformed many times, but I have never felt like a rock star until this performance. When we were introduced, and the MCs mentioned that I would be singing with the students, the school cheered very loudly. Many students pulled out their cameras to record the performance, and the entire audience was clapping the whole time. I don’t know if our performance deserved this praise, but it sure felt nice.

Me with my partner teacher, Svetlana, and the four girls who sang "Jingle Bell Rock" with me. Notice the silly American wearing her coat because she can't handle the Moldovan winter.

And then tonight, my host mom prepared a mini Christmas Eve celebration. She put together a dinner, and it was nice to sit together in honor of Christmas. The cool thing, too, was that the dinner kind of reminded me of traditional Christmas Eve dinner with my family. Christmas this year is not the same by any means, but different is not all bad. I miss my family, friends, and home, but I’m looking forward to learning about Christmas celebration here in Moldova.

Did You Know That…

I forgot to write an entry celebrating this fact, but December 8 marked my six months of being in Moldova. Oh my goodness gracious, is that right?!?! Sometimes it’s hard to believe that I have already been here six months. That’s almost a quarter of my service here. And other times it seems hard to believe that I’ve only been here for six months. It’s funny how time works. But you know, if I have made it through these six months, I think I make it through my next 21 months just fine.

As a reflection of my 6 months here, I thought about what I learned. And now I will share it with you. Did you know that…

• you can actually go without peanut butter (more specifically Reese’s) for 6 months and not die? 
• a tube of mascara can last longer than 6 months? 
• baby powder can substitute for dry shampoo if necessary (but your hair will be a couple shades lighter)? 
• boxes can be used for many different functions, such as bookshelves, jewelry holders, and laundry hampers? 
• after 6 months, you still don’t get used to the smell of burning trash? 
• you can survive with only 3 pairs of shoes? 

Okay, I’m just kidding about most of these. But I really have learned a lot while here; however, that list is too long to list in one sitting. And it grows longer every day. I think my favorite thing about celebrating my six-month anniversary is the feeling anticipation to continue the rest of my service time.

Top 10 Ways To Deal With My Frustrations in Moldova

10. Snickers: Chocolate has the magical power to make you feel better. Plus, this is chocolate I recognize. Snickers here is the same as in The States. However, resorting to this method frequently can cause a stomachache. Not to mention that I don’t want the world to know the size of my frustrations based on the size of my hips. Therefore, I try not resort to this method as frequently.

9. Listen to Veggie Tales Christmas Album: Okay, I have to admit that this one is only on the list because I’m listening to it while I’m typing this. But it doesn’t change the fact that listening to this CD brought a smile to my face, and I instantly felt better. If you have heard this CD, you know what I’m talking about. So although this might be a seasonal solution, based on my experience, it is highly effective.

8. Dance party in my room: Sometimes, I just need to dance.

7. Talking with my students: I love hearing the students try to speak English. It always turns out to be some kind of Romanglish, but I can usually figure out what they mean. And it sure sounds funny. Plus, they always make me laugh.

6. Walks: A couple weeks ago, I started talking walks in the afternoon, and I have really come to enjoy them. I get to just relax and take in all that is Moldova. I try to walk a different way every day, so I get to see a part of Cruileni I haven’t seen before. It is really pleasant. Although sometimes I encounter other frustrations here, like the lovely smell of burning trash or being chased by stray dogs. But it’s only momentary.

5. Meeting new people: It helps remind me why I’m here. Plus, it can also be a little self-esteem boast. Moldovans often thank me for being here or compliment my initiative. Plus, who wouldn’t want to meet all sorts of people from a foreign land?

4. Spending time with my host family: Whether it’s talking to my host mom about my day at school or learning Russian with Roman over a shot (okay, several shots) of cognac, my host family never fails to put me in a better mood.

3. Coka Cola Light: I have to admit that I am dealing with my stress by drinking my weight in Coka Cola Light almost every day. But considering the fact that I am in the country that has the highest consumption of alcohol per capita, I think this little addiction I have developed for caffeine is an okay problem compared to what it could be.

2. Puppies: My host family’s dog had puppies several weeks ago. They are now big enough to come out and play. They are so little, and I love how they run up to me when I’m coming. The doghouse is right by the gate, so I pass them when I come home and when I’m leaving. I have learned that I have to leave an extra 5 minutes early to account for stopping to play with the puppies before I leave the house. Just look at them. How could this not melt all your problems away?

1. Laughter: This is my main coping mechanism. I just laugh. I don’t what’s going, so I laugh. My partner teacher doesn’t like any of my ideas, so I laugh. It’s raining and I don’t have an umbrella and a 15-minute walk home. How about I laugh? I think I may come off as mad, but sometimes I have to laugh to avoid crying. It is my crutch.

Where Am I?

As odd as it may sound, I sometimes forget that I’m not in America. I just don't often think, “Gee, I’m in Moldova right now.” Even though I’m living on a different continent, people are not that different. It’s not like the people look strange or act drastically differently. People go to and from work, they eat meals with foods I know, friends and families visit each other, children play games outside. And I have all my basic necessities. So sometimes I just forget. It only lasts for a moment, but sometimes I have to consciously think about where I am.

Here are some of the things that bring me back to reality. It might be an odd list, but these are the things that still stick out to me after 6 months into my service.

• When you see someone on the street, don’t nod in recognition. This can be seen as flirting. Most everyone says “bună ziua”. 
• No smiling in photos. It’s not taboo or anything; it’s just that Moldovan don’t smile in their pictures. 
• No whistling inside. This is a superstition. Whistling inside means you are whistling your money away. 
• Acronyms are read as words. Every acronym. 
• Wine is drunk like shots. 
• You can’t have tea or any kind of drink without some kind of food. 
• An empty plate means you’re still hungry. Whenever I finish a meal, I’m offered so much more food because an empty plate means I need more food. 
• Mullets are a fashionable hairstyle.

My (Extra)Ordinary Day

My alarm goes off at 7:00. I debate pushing the snooze, but I remember I have already pushed it twice so I've slept 20 minutes more than I meant to, and I reluctantly get up. I go to the bathroom, wash my face, and brush my teeth without questioning using the water from the facet. I get dressed and pack my bag. I remember I'm in Moldova, so I shine my shoes, put on my leg warmers, and add an extra layer of clothes before walking out the door.

I walk out of my sleeping house onto a vacant street. It's one of those days where I want to stay snuggled up in bed with my cup of tea and watch old musicals. The sun has been totally blotted out by the abundance of clouds that have completely taken over the sky. The dark clouds seem to be threatening a rain that will not actually come. A flock of crows swarms across the grey sky, and I feel as if I am in a Hitchcock movie.

I make my way to the main street and finally see some sign of life. Men and women, bundled up in puffy coats, scarves, and caps without gloves, are walking in every direction getting ready for the working day. The old men stand together in groups of three or four, and look as if they don't have a care in the world as they watch the world pass them by. The young men huddle together, each with a cigarette in his hand while they listen to music blasting from one of their cell phones. The young women walk independently in every direction with great speed considering the fact they are wearing skin-tight jeans, four-inch heels, and carrying an oversized yet fashionable purse. The babas hobble by in oversized coats with a bright, colorful scarf tied around their heads. They carry the black lei bags full of their day's necessities. Their lifetime of hard work has made these women appear old and frail. But I know very well that not only do these women have great strength, but also they could easily drink me under a table without even trying.

A rutieră stops at the corner and several of my students step off. They flock together as if they were one unit as they hurry off in the direction of the school. A couple of the girls notice me and blush as they greet me with a shy "hello".

As I walk into the school, two lyceum students open the door and greet me with a mumbled "bună dimineața". On my way to the stairs, I pass a mirror hanging on the hall, and I can't help but notice my checks are a rosy pink from the cold, crisp, autumn air. I sigh at the thought that this is only autumn air; I have yet to experience the freezing air of a Moldovan winter morning.

I pass the school's maintenance man on my way upstairs to my first class. Without a change in facial expression, he taps his hat in recognition of me as I say a quiet “bună” before we continue our separate ways. Several students greet me with a quick "hello" as I walk down the hall to my class.

I get to my 10th form classroom, and I begin to prepare for the first lesson. My partner teacher for this lesson informs me that one of the other English teachers is sick today. Since the two classes combined won't fit in one classroom, she is going to work with the other class while I stay with our students. Great, I didn't prepare anything for the grammar part of this lesson because she was going to do that. My preparations for class quickly change to making a plan for teaching the grammar of this lesson.

The bells rings, and the students stand up. I greet the students before allowing them to sit. I ask the students how they are and what they did this weekend. Silence. I remind the students to use simple past tense. Silence. I tell them that I went for a walk this weekend, and I ask if anyone else went for a walk. Silence. The only reaction I get is the students slouching deeper and deeper in their seats trying to avoid eye contact with me while I try to help them form sentences. A boy comes into the classroom late, and the students all the sudden seem alive. He greets me and proceeds his way around the classroom making sure to shake the hand of every male there, no matter how difficult it is to get to him. Sometimes, the little things are the hardest things to work with.

I make it through the lesson and continue my day. I plan with another one of my teachers and introduce several ideas to try in our classroom. She only likes one idea if we change it slightly. Okay, I can compromise if it means I am introducing one new teaching method to the classroom. It’s all about taking baby steps. We finish planning before the bells rings and I leave for my next lesson.

I teach 8th form with yet another partner teacher, and we introduce a new grading rubric that requires more responsibility from the students. We get several groans, but the students seem to understand that they need to complete their homework from now on. I’m slightly upset that we are only now holding the students accountable for completing their homework. But I guess that’s why I’m here for two years; change takes time. And it requires a lot of patience from me.

I survive the rest of the day, despite the fact I feel like a human popsicle. These large concrete buildings can be really cold. As usual, everyone was wearing his or her coat and scarf all day, including me. It makes me wonder if I could stop worrying about dressing so nicely since I just wear my coat all day. But I conclude that this is Moldova; I must dress frumosly.

I start to walk home, and I get a text message. With much anticipation, I check to see who loves me so much that they decided to send me a text. My excitement is quickly replaced with disappointment as I read my message from Orange reminding me that I get 100% bonus calls on weekends if I recharge my account with 70 lei or more before December 20.

I come home to fresh pot of borș, which is large enough to last for my next three or four lunches. I put my bag away and sit down to lunch. My host dad walks back and forth between the kitchen and the backyard working on some project. Every time he passes, he is mumbling something in Russian.

I finish my lunch and head upstairs to start working. I sit down on my bed and spread out all my plans and textbooks. I open my laptop to pull up my lesson plans for tomorrow. I reread through my plans and begin making all the necessary material.

I work for about an hour, and then I notice that it is 3:30 and realize that if I want to go for a walk, I should leave now, before it gets dark. I head downstairs, all bundled up for my walk. I pass my host mom, and she asks me if I’m going for a walk. I tell her I am, and she laughs before telling me goodbye. I don’t know what is funny, and I head out the door without knowing.

I begin walking through my village, taking time to people watch. I really love walking through my village. I get to just observe Moldova. And I am able to remember why I’m here. Just as I begin to get lost in my thoughts, a man stops to talk to me. He speaks to me very quickly, and I can’t really understand. I did hear the words “work” and “police”, so I conclude that he works at the police station. I smile and try to converse before he continues on his way. I keep walking lost in thought most of the time, being distracted only every once in a while by scary dogs or the smell of burning trash.

I get home and sit down to work again. After 15 minutes, I remember that I have get ready to meet with some of my 10th form students I’m tutoring. I grab my tutoring material and leave for their house. The girls are waiting for me when I reach their house. We sit down and read “A Christmas Carol” together. I notice how much more quickly the girls are able to read through the book and how well the girls are understanding the text. It’s nice to see improvement in my students. I don’t always get to see this as well in the classrooms.

When we finish our lesson, we chat for a little bit, getting to know each other better before I leave for my house. I get home, and my host parents have already eaten. So I start to make myself dinner. I heat up a plate of leftover sărmale. I think about how I should have some starch with my meal, so I slice myself a piece of bread. When I finish my meal, I think about how the stuffing of sărmale is meat and RICE. I laugh at myself for thinking I needed bread. One of the many ways Moldova has rubbed off on me.

I clean my dishes and head up stairs to finish my planning. I have to plan for three lessons, finish preparing for two lessons the next day, and type up two lesson plans. I begin working, only occasionally getting distracted by the internet. Every once in a while I start to question if I’m working too hard or if my work will be done in vain since many things I make or plan don’t happen. But I try to reflect on the positive influences I have made so far, even though they are small. It’s just enough to motivate me to finish my work.

Once I finish my planning, it’s 9:00, which means I need to decide whether or not I need a shower. My hair doesn’t look too greasy, and I don’t smell too bad yet, so I decide the shower can wait another day. I start to get ready for bed before starting to type a blog for my website.

As I sit down and reflect on my day, I think about how plain it can seem. It’s not really what is often pictured when people think of volunteers in the Peace Corps. I don’t have this grand adventure everyday. I don't wake up worried about what poisonous insects might have crawled into my shoes. In fact, when it comes to necessities, my life is not much more difficult than my life in America. And yet, this has definitely been the toughest job I have ever had. I have to integrate into a new culture. I have to deal with requirements or expectations everyday that can be quite annoying. I am constantly challenged with obstacles that require me to be flexible or patient in ways I’m not used to. I have to push myself outside my comfort-zone all the time. But when I think about all of these challenges, I also know how much I have grown and matured while learning how to deal with these difficulties. I wonder…who is really getting the help, Moldova or me?

I Never Go To Bed Upset

This is no easy job; I am challenged every day in ways that no job has ever challenged me before. Patience and flexibility are demanded from me everyday, two virtues I could always use improvement on. Most days I can handle these challenges. But some days, the normal everyday things are just a little hard to handle.

So today was one of the difficult days. There was nothing particularly terrible; most things were normal (for Moldova). But I was just having a hard time dealing with it. One of my partner teachers was not noticing how distracted the students were during our lesson. Several students were playing games on their cell phone, and a couple of students were working on homework for another class. I walked around the room to help eliminate this problem, but it frustrated me that she didn’t notice. I also was upset with myself because I don’t know how to teach “with-it-ness”.

And then when I was talking with another partner, she said that she wanted to change tomorrow's lesson plan so that we review material from the last lesson. While I was happy she was telling me she was changing the plan (she changes it a lot without telling me), I was slightly annoyed that she was changing it to something I suggested in our last planning time. When I had suggested it, she said a very strong ‘no’ and moved on without considering. I know, I sound like a child, but I had spent time making the material for the lesson we had planned and now we were changing it…to something I had suggested previously.

A lot of times when I’m working with my partner teachers and we are compromising, I feel like I’m the only one compromising. The logical side of me knows this can’t be true, but my ideas sure get a lot of no's and I feel like I just offer suggestions to improve their ideas. I guess with compromising, you always feel like you are getting the short end of the stick.

Anyways, I ended up going home kind of melancholy. But the nice thing about Moldova is that it seems to want me to be happy. My bad days never stay bad for the whole day, like today. I am tutoring two 10th form students, and it has become one of my favorite activities I do here. The girls want to learn English and they give me respect. Plus I like developing personal relationships with the students that I don’t get to do as well in the classroom.

So when we finished our lesson today, the girls asked me to stay for some cake and tea. I of course accepted, and we sat together eating our cake and drinking our tea. One of the girls’ mother and brother joined us. We all started talking, and I soon found myself smiling and happy. We were talking in Romanian, so I didn’t understand everything, but I was enjoying myself. The girl’s mother was very friendly and kind to me, paying me several compliments and giving her gratitude for me helping her daughter. We all talked and laughed and just had a good time.

I think the thing I like most about being in Moldova is that for all the complaints I have, I have just as many, if not more, great things to say about it.

I Can’t Even Say Their Names Right

So today, I messed up on 2 of my students’ names. I didn’t have their names wrong; I just don’t say them correctly. I don’t usually say someone’s name unless I’m sure what it is and I have never been corrected before, so this did come as a little surprise. And sadly, when one of my students was telling me how I say “Maxim” correctly, I heard no difference between what she said and what I say. And apparently the way I say “Nicu” is so funny, that Nicu couldn’t read the text when I called on him because he was laughing so hard, along with the rest of the class. I asked my partner teacher how I’m saying it wrong, and she said that I say it fine. I guess the students just like to have a laugh at the American.

Life Without Fluffy Towels

With Thanksgiving just passing, I can’t help but remember the things I miss being over here. I think it can go without saying (although I’m saying it anyways) that I miss my family and friends. And I miss just knowing what is culturally acceptable, or not acceptable. I miss my favorite products, and I miss the activities I used to be involved in. And I miss foods. But all of these things I tried to prepare myself for, so it’s not that difficult (most days) dealing with missing these things.

It’s the little insignificant things that I miss that can cause the most frustration sometimes. This summer, I really missed air conditioners. Ugg, it was so humid and gross. I also greatly miss having a dryer. Now that it’s cold, I really have to plan my laundry out. Whenever I need to wash clothes, I need to make sure I don’t need them for a week because it can take that long to dry. I also miss my towels be soft and fluffy. Towels that dried without a dryer are not very cozy.

Continuing the list, I don’t have a printer. I really miss the convenience of printing things the day before I need them. When I really need printed things, I can use the printer at Peace Corps headquarters in Chișinău, but it requires planning in advance. And I need to have more errands to do than just print things to make the trip feel worth it.

One thing I really miss is the luxury of showers. I am lucky to have a shower; however it is not much to brag about. The pressure is very poor, and the hot water doesn’t last very long. So I have to turn off the water when I’m not rinsing myself. This wasn’t too bad in the summer, but now that it’s winter, it can be kind of bone chilling. Sometimes, the hot water only lasts long enough to rinse my hair. I really miss the days when showers weren’t such a pain in the neck.

Oh yeah, and I miss ice cream that isn’t served on a stick.

My Stomach Is Singing

One of the goals of English Education volunteers is to help our partner teachers improve their English. And for me, this is one of my biggest goals. My partner teachers can speak English, but it is very poor. Many of our meetings take 3 times as long because my partner doesn’t understand the English.

Part of my partners’ English weaknesses is that they directly translated from Romanian. So even though they are speaking English, the wording is awkward, not quite right, or just not the phrasing we usually use. For example, they say “be attentive” instead of “pay attention”. Another phrase they say is “say me please” instead of “tell me please.” Or “put the students questions ” instead of “ask the students questions.”

I try to correct them, but it can be hard finding the balance of how often to correct them without annoying my partners. I can see some improvement so far, but this can be frustrating sometimes. However, I have found the silver lining. There are some fun phrases I have learned since my partners directly translate sometimes. Telling someone to check their zipper, they say “close the store.” My favorite is “my stomach is singing.” It sounds happier than “growling”.

Spoonfuls Of Pepper Jelly

Roman had a friend over for dinner tonight…which means a lot of drinking. How I sat and talked with 2 Russian speakers for 3 hours I’ll never know, but somehow I did. I am always surprised by how little you need to know of a language and still understand each other.

Tonight’s drink of choice: wine. I mistakenly thought that I would be done drinking with them when I finished my dinner. But no. Roman insisted that I keep drinking because the wine is natural. And of course, we had to be quiet because we didn’t want Parascovia to catch us. As the night went on (and Roman continued to drink), Roman wouldn’t let me put my glass on the table because it would make a sound.

For some time, Roman kept wanting to toast to California. I don’t know why, but eventually I reminded him that I’m from Virginia, not California. Then he became excited because he knew that Virginia makes cigarettes. I told him how Virginia is also known for growing peanuts, but he didn't care too much. He told me that he likes walnuts because Moldova grows walnuts, at which point he went into the cellar and grabbed a handful of walnuts for us to eat.

Soon, Roman wanted coffee. He asked me if I wanted coffee, and I told him that I don’t like coffee. But he still seemed to think I wanted coffee. Finally, he understood I didn’t want any. He told me that he wanted coffee so I needed to make some, to which I answered, “If you want coffee, you make it.” I don’t think he was expecting the Romanian-challenged American to give that answer, but he seemed to like it because I got a lot of handshakes for that comment.

Later in the night, I got the hiccups. This did not mean that I got to leave. Instead, Roman made me eat spoonfuls of pepper jelly to stop the hiccups. Not exactly the most appetizing thing, but it worked.

I really need to learn Russian to talk with Roman. Good thing Roman offered to teach me Russian. But somehow I get the feeling that my lessons will revolve around an alcoholic beverage.

Happy Dance

I’m tutoring two girls in my 10th form right now before I get an English club started, and one of the students mentioned she has difficulty with English in class. She went on to say that she was also scared in class. Not exactly the feelings I was hoping for. And I haven’t even started to become very strict yet. I’m trying to make change slowly so as the students and teachers adjust more easily. So I haven’t started becoming harsh for completing homework or not cheating with school work. Lordy.

But it’s all good now. We were chatting with the girls today, and they started to ask me about why I was here and such. When I told them I would be staying here for 2 years, one of the girls did a little happy dance. It was very cute. I liked getting this reaction better than hearing that I was scaring one of my students.

Familia Mea Gazdă

I love my host family. We seem to have a good balance with each other. Despite my poor Romanian, I think we communicate well with each other and we are a good fit together. I started to realize this recently. They were in America visiting their son (who married a Peace Corps volunteer, for those who don’t remember). They were there from October 11-30. And then I had training with Peace Corps in Chișinău from October 30 – November 5. So I really haven’t seen them for 4 weeks. It was a long 4 weeks.

I really care for them, and I enjoy living with them. So, I want to tell you a little about them, and I think today sums Parascovia and Roman up pretty well. Be ready…this is a long entry.

I’m getting over a cold right now. It’s nothing serious, just annoying. But I have a little cough. Anyways, this afternoon, I was coughing some, and Parascovia came up to check on me. She was saying how she heard me coughing and she was worried. And later, when I was going out to the bank (side note: I was typing this after I had been drinking with Roman, and I typed the Romanian translation for “bank” instead of the word “bank”. Maybe I’m not as bad at Romanian as I think I am) and Parascovia didn't think I had a big enough coat. So she gave me one of hers. She’s very motherly, and it’s kind of nice.

Then later tonight, I was eating with my family. Well, not really “eating with my family”, but rather eating “with my family”. Basically, they were in the kitchen while I was eating. First it was just Parascovia and I. She was preparing for tomorrow’s dinner, and she kept talking about her trip to America. I didn’t understand everything, but I was listening attentively and trying to understand all I could. I tried to contribute to the conversation as best I could, but I really didn’t say more than 2 or 3 sentences total. I love that she just kept talking to me.

Roman just makes me laugh. Right as I finished my dinner, he sat down with me and poured me a glass of wine (a real glass of wine, not a shot like usual). He insisted that I eat something while we drink (very Moldovan). So he kept handing me food while he was refilling my glass continuously.

At one point, I went to put food away in the fridge and Parascovia walked out of the room. So Roman took this as a chance to refill my glass before Parascovia or I noticed (I had already had 2 glasses with him at this point). Sneaky man.

Our Ukrainian and American “conversation”, which may seem a bit ADD…because it kind of is: Roman likes to smell dried fish (I don’t understand this yet; hopefully I’ll have an explanation soon). But he quickly understood my distain for it made evident by my face when he pulled out his dried fish to smell. After he got his euphoria from smelling the fish, he took the giant bowl of basil that Parascovia was preparing for dinner tomorrow night and smelled it as well. He continued to pick up the bowl of basil every 5 minutes throughout the rest of dinner, occasionally insisting that I smell it too.

Roman taught me the word ‘bug’ in Russian, which I promptly forgot as soon as he shook my hand and told me I was weak. He then noticed Parascovia cutting up carrots, which she had been doing the whole 20 minutes we had been sitting there. He pulled out a giant shank for her to use. She rolled her eyes at him and kept using her knife (Roman didn’t notice).

Next, Roman offered me tea or coffee. I told him tea, and he told me to make him some too. I couldn’t help but laugh. In Moldova, you can’t drink tea without eating something. So he told me to cut myself a piece of cake. I made my tea (and his) and cut my piece of cake. He was sweetening his tea and offered me the sugar. I declined, so he decided that I could use sugar on my cake instead. He took a spoonful of sugar and spread it on my cake. I reacted, and he quickly pointed to Parascovia and made a shhing face, implying that she must not know about this.

I find it quite humorous how he “sneaks” behind Parascovia’s back. Usually, it’s with the alcoholic beverages. And tonight, it was with the sugar on the cake as well. But I have a feeling that Parascovia knows exactly what is going on, and I think she finds his “sneakiness” just as humorous as I do.

I swear, you could make a sitcom out of our interactions. I don’t think I can do justice to the hilarity of our interactions with my writing. But honestly, after hanging out with my family, my abs hurt from laughing so much at our interactions.

Ode To Ben and Jerry’s

Today was a particularly difficult day. It’s not like it was really that different from any other crazy day. I think it’s just that I have been trying to not let things bother me that actually do bother me in the long run. All the little things add up. Straw that breaks the camel’s back kind of thing, you know?

All week, I’ve had no idea how long the classes were going to be because they would ring the bells early to end the school day early because the building is too cold. Then today, I tried to play a game of Memory with one of my classes for the first time. But it was a huge headache. The students only know how to behave with lectures. So when I introduce an activity, it can be kind of wild. Then half of my students in my last class were missing (there are only 8 students in the class total).

Usually, I have a lot of patience and stamina for this chaos. I actually am kind of proud of myself because I have become pretty good for letting things roll off my shoulder, which says a lot coming from this slight (okay, more than slight) control-freak. But apparently on my hard days, my newfound maturity and flexibility are out the window, and what is left of Maggie wants to jump out the window. Oh well. I guess I’m bound to have hard days. It’s just difficult having hard days in a foreign country.

When I had a bad day back in the States, I often turned to my good friends, Ben and Jerry. But they don’t have it here. I miss Ben and Jerry’s. They have ice cream here, but most of it is served on a stick. And it’s relatively cheap. It’s not the same. I miss good ice cream.

I went on a mission today after school to find ice cream that wasn’t served on a stick. It took a great deal of searching, but I found some in a carton at last. Unfortunately, there was only one kind, vanilla with caramel swirl. Normally, I need something with chocolate after a day like this. But beggars can’t be choosers. And in my current state, I really don’t care. I’m just happy to be able to eat ice cream with a spoon tonight.

Well, in my misery, I have turned to poetry to express myself. I dedicate this to you, Ben and Jerry, lifelong friends to those in need.

You are the ice cream with much flare.
For your taste I greatly care.
But since I moved to Moldova,
My life’s been all ova’
Since I can’t find you anywhere.

Yes, I realize I’m being a little (okay, more than a little) melodramatic. But can you blame a girl? I mean, I’m in foreign country having a bad day. Add in the fact that I haven’t had Ben and Jerry’s in almost 5 months, not to mention countless other things I miss (ode to Mexican food soon to come). For those who might not know me as well, have no worries. I’ll get my ice cream fix as I watch a sappy romantic comedy and I’ll be back to my semi-mature and capable self. But for now, I will moan and groan and complain.

Poftă Bună!

Poftă Bună, which is Romanian for bon appétit. You can’t have a meal in Moldova without being wished poftă bună! Moldovan food: it’s not that weird. There are lots of the same things as there are in the USA. Bread, pasta, lots veggies and fruits, chicken, pork, sausage, salami, etc. Most of the stuff I know and recognize. For me, the main differences are how food is served/prepared/portioned and what is served more frequently. For example, the butter is cut like slices of cheese, the cheese is cut like slices of bread, and bread is cut like, well, slices of bread (not everything is different). Tomatoes are eaten like apples. And if you don’t ask for a 3rd serving, people might think you don’t like the food.

The biggest struggle for me is the meat. Dad, I think you would love it here. The meat is mostly kinds of pork. Lots and lots of kinds of sausages and salamis. And fatty sausage and salamis at that. And if it’s not some kind of pork, whatever meat it is, it’s very fatty. Most of the time, the meat is served still on the bone. And many Moldovans eat every piece of meat…including the marrow. It was weird the first time I heard my host family eating meat and it was crunching.

But if there is one piece of information to remember when eating Moldovan food, this is it: never bite into anything assuming there aren’t seeds or bones. I only made that mistake 10 or 11 times.

Here are some popular Moldovan dishes, foods, and drinks that are new or interesting for me…

• Compot: boiled fruit with sugar or honey. Tastes like Kool-Aid. 
• Plicinta: mini pies filled with cheese, cabbage, potatoes, or fruit. Very tasty, and very common. The ones filled with cabbage are my favorite. 
• Mamaliga: cornmeal mash. Made from water and cornmeal. I like this a lot too. It reminds me of grits, which kind of makes it a comfort food for me. 
• Sărmale: rice and veggies (and sometimes meat) rolled in cabbage or grape leaves. This isn’t new for me; I had them in the States before. But I wanted to include it in the list because they seem to be at many masăs. Stuffed peppers are also very popular (they use the same stuffing as sărmale). 
• Răcituri: meat jello. When I first heard about this dish, even though I knew this wasn’t correct, I pictured a jello mold with pieces of meat floating in it. This is not correct. To me, it looks and tastes like congealed chicken broth. And it’s very salty. 
• Hrișcă: brown buckwheat. I like this very much. It is very oaty. Parascovia serves it with something very similar to spaghetti sauce on it. 
• Brînză: sheep cheese. It’s very similar to goat cheese or feta in texture. It can be sweet or salty. I really like the salty kind with tomatoes. 
• Pelmeni: meat ravioli/dumplings. Maybe I don’t need to include this on the list, but this is one of my favorite meals. So I wanted to mention it. It is basically mini dumplings, and Moldovans serve it with sour cream instead of soy sauce. And I really like it with the sour cream. Funny thing though, they are in the frozen food section. Wouldn’t it figure that the American’s favorite dish is a frozen prepared dish? 
• Salată de crabi: egg salad with artificial crab and potato. It’s very yummy. 
• Chefir: buttermilk (kind of). It’s like a chunky buttermilk. Very thick and sour. When my host family gave it to me to try, they insisted that it’s good for my stomach. I felt like I was drinking sour milk. 
• Păpănaș: small, dense pancakes. They are very sweet and yummy. Parascovia makes them almost every weekend, and I eat it with dulceață. 
• Dulceață: jelly with pieces of fruit. It is very sweet, with the juices and chunks of the fruit. It’s very dessert-like. 

I Sure Hope That Was Cooking Oil

I forgot how much I love cooking. Many of my favorite memories revolve around cooking with someone I love. And I’m not too bad at it. I think I have pretty good instincts. Although I make lots of mistakes, I usually can come up with some way to fix them. I just love it.

Unfortunately, I haven’t gotten to cook in the last 4 months. During PST, my host family was paid to provide my 3 meals, so they cooked for me. And now, I’m paying my host family for lunch and dinner (and I usually sleep until the very last minute, so no time for cooking breakfast). Sometimes I think about just paying my host family for dinner, so that would give me something to cook for sometimes. But Parascovia cooks a lot, and I worry about being in her way. Plus she’s a great cook, and it’s just easier this way.

But these past 2 weeks, Parascovia and Roman have been in American visiting their son, and I have been in charge of my meals. At first, I was really excited about this. But since I’m only cooking for myself for 3 weeks, I don’t want to go out and fill the cupboards with all sorts of stuff. I sort of feel like I’m cooking as if I were moving in a couple weeks; you want to use what you have already and buy as little as possible. Nearly all of my meals have been frozen ravioli or spaghetti, mostly out of laziness.

Well, today I cooked, and it felt great. It was an interesting experience. I was using products in a Russian kitchen, so I had to depend on the pictures on the labels and my nose on things like spices and unmarked cans. And there aren’t cups and teaspoons. In fact, I couldn’t find any measuring utensils. So it was all eyeballing.

My aim was split pea soup. I didn’t have chicken broth, or cream, or dry peas, or many vegetables at all. And I couldn’t identify the spices. I did have a can of peas, oil, sour cream, onions, and garlic. Those are the only things that I actually know for sure went into my dinner. Everything else just smelled right. Because I didn’t know half the ingredients and I had no measuring utensils, I couldn’t reproduce this recipe if my life depended on it. But it turned out well. And it was a fun challenge actually. I kind of felt like I was on Iron Chef or something, except I didn’t know what ingredients I was using and I had no sous chef.

The scariest part was when I decided to use what I was hoping to be cooking oil. The cooking oil is kept under the sink in old water bottles. And they look like oil, but I was half worried they were drippings or cleaning oil or something. But I have eaten my dinner and don’t feel sick yet, which is a good sign. However, if I’m MIA for a couple days, you know why.

Can the American Catch Me?

My partner teachers seem to be very one minded; they are standing at the front of the room giving the lecture. They do not notice or choose to ignore the students who are not focused or playing with other items. I see it often, and I do not ignore this. When a cell phone is out, I make them put it in their pocket. If they are drawing, I take their picture. If they have another class’s textbook or homework, I tell them to put it away. Overall, I think I catch most actions.

I could tell the students were not used to being caught with their homework or cell phone (or whatever else they were doing in class) right away. For the first month, the students looked so shocked that I noticed they were texting in class or doing another class’s homework. They were not used to the teacher noticing. The funny thing is that they weren’t even trying to hide it. They would have their cell phone out and on their desk and were surprised I noticed.

Now that most of them know I am correcting the behavior, they try to be more discreet when doing something they are not supposed to. The key word here is ‘try’. The younger students might fold their arm and lay their head across their desk in a way that I can’t see what they are doing. But they are obviously doing something. And the older students hold their cell phones in their lap and pull the textbook close the edge of their desk so it looks like they are looking at their textbook. But obviously they are not completely focused on reading their English textbook (unfortunately), not to mention they are staring in their lap, not their desk.

The funny part of this is that many now almost make a game of it. They know I will catch them and tell them to put it away. So while they’re “being sneaky”, they stare at me until I catch them. Then when I see them, they innocently smile and pretend like they were behaving well the whole time. And many times, they wait until I stop looking at them and start again. Most days, I find this almost amusing.

Today was particularly funny. One of my 6th graders was drawing in class. After playing “can the American catch me” for several rounds, I took his paper. He no longer thought it was funny and started to pout. He then laid his head on the table and began to fake cry. And I mean fake cry like in cartoons; it was a rather pitiful attempt. I had to be really careful about not laughing at him because it really was quite humorous. It was even harder not to laugh because the rest of the students knew I had upset him. And they would look at him and then at me and laugh.

Anyways, as amusing as this all is, I really am hoping that I am teaching the students to focus on English when in English class. Constantly correct this behavior can be a little tedious, especially since I’m the only one doing it. But I’m hoping my partners will become more aware of the students’ behavior by watching me correct it, and eventually be correcting it themselves.

Kids, You’re Gonna Get Me Through This

Partner teaching is no easy task. Many days, I feel like I’m just working as their assistant, not the partner teacher who has a master in education and actually knows a lot about pedagogy and research-based teaching methods. I’m supposed to help bring student-centered activities to the lessons, but the ideas I bring to the table aren’t always welcome. Or my partners make changes without telling me. One of the reasons we team-teach is so that there is sustainability. On particularly difficult days, I feel rather useless, and I worry that all the time I spend making or planning high-quality activities will be done in vain. Right after I leave, all my work will be put on a shelf and not used. Thinking about this makes me worried how I will make it through the next 2 years.

However, over the last week, I have concluded that my students are going to be the ones that get me through these next 2 years. Their faces light up when I bring pictures or do pretty much anything different from the textbook, and they can’t wait to find out what we will do. I fuss at them in class when they are drawing or not paying attention in class. But then after class, they come to me and give the picture that they were drawing and just got in trouble in class with.

One of my favorite moments so far happened a couple days ago. I was walking to school, and one of my students (a boy who can be a particular handful, but you can’t help but love) ran to catch up with me. He was really excited about something and was talking in Romanian too fast for me understand (not that I would have understood him if he were talking slower). After a long time of him talking and me not understanding, I eventually figured out that he was telling me he did his homework (mostly because he showed it to me).

Now, he didn’t do the homework that was assigned, but he took the time to do English work outside of the classroom. Homework is not really done by the students here (this is one of the things I’m hoping to improve). So the fact that he did something, I think, is a pretty big step. It was a good feeling. These feelings are what will help me get through the next 2 years.

Take A Left At The Chickens

I was walking home from my tutoring session today, and I started thinking about the directions I tell myself to get home. When I turn off the main road, sometimes I forget which road leads to my house, so I tell myself to turn left at the house with all the chickens. How great is that? I love that this is a legit instruction for directions.

And I thought about how since I’ve been in Moldova, that piece of direction can be too vague many times because of all the houses around here that have chickens. And that, too, makes me smile. Even with all the stress that comes with this job, I really love being able to say that I live somewhere where the directions consist of “take a left at the chickens."

Goodbye, Herbal Essence

When I was taking my shower today, I finished the last bit of my Herbal Essence conditioner. I bet you’re thinking two things. 1. OMG, it took her 4 months to finish a bottle of conditioner!! How often does that smelly girl shower? 2. So you finished a bottle of conditioner. It’s just conditioner! Throw the bottle away, buy a new one, and stop pouting, you big baby.

To the first comment, I shower enough for now, okay?!?! I even get to shower more than some of the other volunteers. Once winter comes along and the pipes freeze, I’ll shower less than now. It’s an unfortunate “experience” that comes with working in the Peace Corps. But it’s not like I came here with the expectations of having the same standard of living as I did in America.

And to the second comment, it was a sad moment. I love Herbal Essence conditioner. It took me several years to find the conditioner I liked best, and I have been using it ever since. And now, it is no more. I must use Moldovan conditioner. Additionally, my herbal essence conditioner was one of the last things with a smell that reminded me of America/home. And while I’m getting used to Moldovan smells, I miss the ones that remind me of home. Although I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the smell of burning trash. Yuck.

Because I recognized this momentous occasion would soon take place, I prepped myself for this unfortunate event by buying new conditioner a couple weeks ago, which was not an easy task in Moldova. I could only find shampoo. And anytime there was a bottle that looked like it might be conditioner, it was written in Russian, so I had no way of reading it. I’m still half worried I bought lotion instead. That will not help with the greasy mess I now call my hair! But despite the fact I was “ready” for this, when I squeezed out the very last drop, my shoulders dropped and I was sad.

Change happens. Sometimes, change is not good or bad. It is just change. But sometimes, I hold on so tightly to small, insignificant things, that I begin to taint an experience or lose perspective. I’m so busy looking back that I don’t see what is right in front of me, or the possibilities that could be coming. I let myself be distracted from the bigger picture, and I let myself get in my own way. I may not like the change, but dealing with it is just a part of life, and it is most definitely a part of the Peace Corps.

I will be perfectly fine with Moldovan conditioner. In fact, after a couple weeks, I won’t even think about what kind of conditioner I’m using any other time than when I’m showering. When I shower, I will remember that I’m using some make-do conditioner, and not MY conditioner. And I’ll pout, but then I’ll move on.

You know, I think I love Herbal Essence even more now since it’s helping me grow up and mature. Maybe they should include that function in their next commercial.

Cognac Makes All Right

Well, I’m sick for the first time. Noting serious, just a head cold, but it’s quite annoying. Parascovia noticed Friday night I had a sniffly nose. But it wasn’t until yesterday morning that she became quite motherly. She made me drink tea, which I wanted already, before she pulled out all the contents from the refrigerator for me to eat. It took some time to explain that all I wanted was bread. And then during lunch today, she once again wanted me to eat my weight in food.

While I was finishing washing my dishes, she noticed that I was wearing socks instead of slippers. So she went to get her pile of slippers for me right away. And this morning she fussed at me because I wasn’t wearing them.

The best part was when Parascovia insisted that I take a shot of cognac yesterday morning. I told her I didn’t want it (it was 8:00 in morning, after all), but she was insistent, saying that it will clear my head. Then Roman joined in insisting, so I caved. And she offered cognac once more at lunch yesterday. She didn’t seem to understand that I simply didn’t want any. She just assumed that I had taken medicine, so I couldn’t have any. Anyways, I think I’ll be healthy enough to go to school tomorrow, so maybe the cognac did work.

Developing A Routine

Well, I just finished the first week at school that I think represents a “regular” week. I met with all my partner teachers at the times we had scheduled. The class schedule hasn’t changed in 2 weeks, and I taught all the classes I was expecting to teach at the time I was expecting to teach them. I could predict when the bell would ring. It was nice feeling like I knew what was going on. Although, I’m not sure if calling this week “regular” is completely accurate. It seems that many things can cause the schedule to change. So it may be that a “regular” week is anything but.

If you can’t tell from my lack of blog in the last 10 days, this week has been quite a lot of work. I am introducing to my partner teachers lots of new activities and interactive games for teaching English. And since I understand the activity (as I’m the one showing them), I need to make the materials. So, I have a lot of materials to make. After my partners learn how the activities work and the materials needed for them, they will be able to make more things. Last weekend was entirely taken up with making materials for this past week. I would not have had time throughout the week to make everything and get sleep.

Sometimes it is difficult to encourage myself to make the material. My partners sometimes change the plan (not all of them write the plan down when we are planning together). Sometimes there was a misunderstanding of how an activity will be done. Sometimes there is a misjudgment of time. And there are many other reasons for a planned activity to not happen. So it can be difficult to be motivated to spend so much time on creating quality materials, especially for activities planned at the end of the lesson, since those tend to be the ones less likely to happen.

However, the reaction of the students when they get to participate in these new kinds of activities more than make up for the time spent prepping for the activities that don’t always happen. I really love seeing the students’ reactions. At the beginning of the lessons, they will see me preparing the materials and ask me (speaking Romanian at a rapid speed, of course) what the stuff is and what we will be doing with it. And then they are very excited to participate in the activities. And I remember why I’m a teacher. It’s a good feeling.

Trying To Stop A Stampede

During school today I was engulfed in this feeling of overwhelmingness (I know it’s not a word, but you understand). One of the classes was taking a beginning-of-the-year test, and I could barely contain myself as every student cheats during the test. In addition to whispering to each other the whole time, they were passing notes and using their textbooks. Furthermore, they were looking at each other’s paper, and not discreetly either. One student was standing up to look at the paper on the desk in front of him.

At first, I was continuously reminding the students to work alone and not talk, but my partner teacher ignored most actions. Since the students weren’t discreet about getting the answers from their classmates, I’m guessing consequences for cheating are not enforced, or even in existence. My partner would say something every once in awhile, but the amount of cheating was so much that I couldn’t stop it all on my own, not to mention the students couldn’t always understand me.

That wasn’t the only source of my feeling of being overwhelmed. The grades of the students are kept in one book, the catalog. The teachers are supposed to take the catalog to the next teacher, and the students shouldn’t be carrying it to eliminate changing grades and accidents. Well, not only do I constantly see the students carrying the catalog, but today a group of girls were standing in the middle of the hall looking through the catalog. During my time here, I’m hoping to remind the teachers that the students shouldn’t be carrying the catalog.

Add on the teaching techniques and pedagogies I’m hoping to teach my partners, as well as better English skills, and I think you understand where that feeling of ‘overwhelmingness’ I’m feeling is coming from. Plus I’m hoping to inspire change, not just say ‘this is how to do it.’ The amount of positive change I hoping to inspire sometimes feels like too much, especially since a lot of the change is required by so many. Teaching the students not to cheat on tests and quizzes is not just teaching the students to do their own work, but also teaching the teacher to enforce consequences. What's more, I want to teach the teachers how to come up with motivating and effective activities, not just come up with the ideas on my own.

I had a dream last night that I was witnessing an elaborate robbery of a department store. There were many robbers with guns spread throughout the store. One of the robbers was a 13-year-old boy standing near me. I went to him to talk him out of this decision, knowing very well that there were still many more robbers with guns throughout the store and many customers were still in danger, and perhaps changing the mind of this one boy wouldn’t do much to help. I was getting close to inspiring the boy to put his gun away when another child came to me telling me how there are other people are in danger and I need to go and save them. I turned to the child and yelled, “I’m not superman! I can’t save everyone.” And at this point, I woke up.

Now I don’t need a degree in psychology to guess what my dream is saying. Sometimes, I feel like I’m not only supposed to stop a stampede with only myself, but I also have to turn it in a different direction. That’s a big job. But I’m hoping to take on one or two horse at a time, and hopefully it will eventually lead to the change of direction for the whole herd. I just hope I don’t get trampled on in the process.

Losing My Mind And My Keys

Today I realized how out of my element I am. In the last week, I have lost 2 things. I never lose things…at least not important things. I’m very organized, and I always know where the need-to-know items are. But lately, I have had so many more things on my mind than I ever had when I was in America. This is going to take some time learning how to rebalance my life. Hopefully I can figure it out without losing anything else.

So I can’t find my keys. I first discovered this at school today. I wasn’t too worried because someone is always home when I get home from school. But since I didn’t have my keys, of course no one was home when I got home to the locked house. I have thought I’ve been locked out before when I actually wasn’t, so I walked around the house and double-checked that all the doors were actually locked. They were.

I sat down for a bit, hoping my host mom or dad would show up right then. They didn’t. After 5 minutes of no one coming home, I walked around to the window closest to the ground, which is not actually at the ground level; the bottom of the window is about 6 feet off from the ground. I was feeling torn as to whether I wanted to find it open. If it was open, I would be glad that I got to go inside because I was really hungry. But also if it was open, it probably wouldn’t be too hard for someone else to find a way to get into the house. Well, it was open. So I went and found a ladder and climbed into the house.

As I was climbing into the house, there were 2 things I was thinking about. One, I thought about how I hope I don’t fall and break my neck while climbing into the house. And two, I hope the neighbors don’t call the police to report me, seeing as I really don’t having the best language skills right now. But I made in, without police or breaking my neck. Climbing through windows is not my thing. I need to find my keys.

Inconsistence In A Control-Freak’s World

Over the past couple days, I feel like I have gotten a real taste of Moldovan schools. The schedules aren’t set yet; there are still daily changes. Originally, I was scheduled to teach two 5th grades, two 6th grades, one 7th grade, two 8th grades, and two 9th grade classes. And this was split up so that I teach two classes with three of my partners and 3 classes with one of my partners.

Well, this plan has changed. I kind of guessed it would seeing as it would be difficult to schedule all of the classes without any coinciding since I’m teaching with different teachers, which turned out to happen. Which classes I will be team-teaching have changed four times over the last three days. But I’m hopeful the changes have stopped, because none of those changes were today. After several changes, my classes (right now) are mostly the same; I’m not teaching 9th grade classes anymore, but instead teaching one regular 10th grade class and a 10th grade class for students who are just beginning English. I’m kind of excited about both.

Also, there is miscommunication between the teachers and students. Monday afternoon I was meeting with Svetlana during our free period. Then about half way through the period, an 8th grade class came into the classroom. Apparently, they were told to go to one class, but they were scheduled to be with Svetlana. They didn’t have their textbooks or anything since they thought they didn’t have English lessons that day. This was not one of the classes I'm schedule to teach with, so I was going to leave to continue planning, but Svetlana started a question-and-answer forum about America. Once again, a performance was requested. But this time, they asked me to perform a traditional American dance. Needless to say, I didn’t. Mostly cause I don’t know one. But also because the only dance I could think of was the Macarena.

And then today, one of the teachers was absent. And when a teacher is absent, they can’t always find sub, so the students are added to other classes. So today, the 7th grade class was twice as big because there was another group of students who we don’t usually teach. It kind of made the class feel more like babysitting than teaching. We tried to continue as if the additional students had been part of the class the whole time. But they haven’t, so they just kind of sat there, bored and not really included.

In addition to constant schedule changing, my partners and I haven’t really gotten into the flow of working together yet. Yesterday, in one of the classes I was observing, my partner teacher wasn’t present when the bell rang. After about 3-4 minutes, the students were getting restless, and I thought I would just start a lesson, even though I had no plans nor did I know where the students were in their lessons. So I just started going over the homework. My partner showed up 10 minutes after the bell had rung, and I had just finished checking the homework with the students. Then she sat down, started working though some paperwork, and left me to teach the class…that I had no plans for…and the students spoke very little English. If she wants to observe me teaching, I would like to know in advance. But she wasn’t even observing; she was getting some work done for administration or something. Not exactly what I’m here for. I really wasn’t happy with this, but as long as it was just this one time, I’m not going to make a big deal out of it. If it happens again, I’ll speak with her.

It can be kind of frustrating sometimes, but most of the frustrating things are things that will pass quickly. Or they are things I might be able to help change for the better. I’ll get the hang of things, and the frustrations will lessen. Regardless, handling this instability is really helping me develop my ability to be flexible and think on the spot. Yea for another growth opportunity.

If You Want To Make God Laugh, Make A Plan

With all the time I have to myself, I do a lot of thinking and reflecting. Sometimes it’s hard, and it can feel lonely. But I have come up with some things that I enjoy thinking about. And today I was thinking about myself five years ago and what my plans and expectations were for the future.

Five years ago, I was moving into the basement of the Wesley Foundation and starting my junior year of college. My plans for the next five years were to finish undergrad in the next two years and stay at Virginia Tech for another year to get a master’s in education. I was accumulating quite a bit of things, especially for my kitchen, because the next move in my future was going to be to my own apartment. After grad school, I would find that perfect elementary teaching job, preferably at an inner-city school. I would move into my own apartment, pick out the perfect furniture, adopt a dog, and begin that fabulous life as a young, single, independent woman. I would be spending my money wisely, yet still having fun, and I would be saving up to buy my own house within a couple years.

Well, I went to William and Mary for grad school. My first job was teaching math at a middle school. And then I decided to join the Peace Corps, so I quit my job and took sporadic sub jobs and worked at a daycare while waiting to leave the country. And I have yet to have my own apartment.

I like thinking about the future. It’s fun to imagine the different directions life might take me. I think about what I might do after the Peace Corps. Maybe I’ll go back to America and find that elementary teaching job. Or after teaching older students for two years, I will want to teach in a middle or high school. Or perhaps I will want to keep teaching abroad, so perhaps I’ll find a job teaching in China or Kenya or India. I might go back to school to become a professor. Maybe I won’t be teaching at all.

As I sit here and think about my future, I can’t help but reflect on my past self thinking about the future. Five years ago, I didn’t even consider the Peace Corps as something I wanted, and now I can’t imagine being somewhere else. I wonder where life might lead me next. I wonder what plans I’m making now that my future self will look back at and laugh at.

New Kind Of Control

This week, the scheduling of classes is not regular. I don’t know what classes I will be working with until the end of the day before. Originally, I was hoping to start team-teaching right away with my partner teachers. However, with the craziness of the schedule, it is difficult to meet to plan with my partners. So this week, I’m mostly observing (with an occasional singing performance).

Even though observing for the first week wasn’t exactly what I was planning, I can see that it will be beneficial. It gives me a chance to learn the teaching styles of each of my partner teachers so that I can cooperate better with each of them. I can pick out the strengths of my partners and come up with ideas for improvement. Also, I can see the flow of things better without interfering much.

One thing that sticks out in my mind when observing my partners is the difference in control. Every teacher has some kind of control in their classroom, some more than others. And what is controlled in the classroom is obviously going to be different, and it will depend on what the teacher wants in his/her classroom. But something I noticed is my partners like control over how the students hold themselves. For example, when one of the students was standing to talk with a hand in his pocket, one of my partners told him not to talk with his hand in his pocket. Another time, one of the students was leaning over her notebook as she was writing, and another one of my partners told her to sit straight and turn her head differently when writing.

At first, I thought perhaps it was just the preference of one of my partners. But I noticed several of my partners correcting such behavior, which makes me wonder if it’s a cultural thing. I’m usually apathetic and don’t notice such physical appearances. I hope my apathy towards the students’ physical mannerism won’t cause stress in the classroom with my partners. Furthermore, I hope my unawareness won’t be misread as disrespect. I wonder how long before I start thinking like a Moldovan.

The Way You Look Tonight

Today, I met one of the seventh grade classes I might teach this year. And for the first time, after I introduced myself and opened the floor for questions, the students actually asked me questions. They wanted to know about my family and Richmond, where else I have traveled, why I was in Moldova, my favorite sport, etc. It was nice to feel like the students were interested. And I was able to answer some of the questions in Romanian.

The boys thought it was cool that I liked American football, and they wanted me to teach them how to play after school today. Unfortunately, we don’t have a football right now. Then, one of the girls mentioned that she likes to sing. And this somehow led to another student asking me to sing a traditional American song. I was not ready for this, and I couldn’t think of a traditional song on the spot. The only song I could think of that I knew enough lyrics was Frank Sinatra’s “The Way You Look Tonight”, so that what they got. I’ll have to think of a song in case they want to hear more.

I think I’m going to like this class. The students just made me smile. And it was nice to find out something they are interested in learning about: American football and American music. I have to come up with an idea for some project to do outside of school. Maybe I can incorporate these interests somehow…a flag football game with a performance of Yankee Doodle at half time?

Fate?

I do not believe in fate or meant-to-bes, but sometimes when certain events happen just when they do, I can’t help but wonder. Over the last 2 weeks, I have felt as useful as paint on a wall. I have been pretty much doing nothing but sitting around my room. I’ve walked around my new village, hung out with my host family, watched a few movies (okay, maybe more like 2 dozen), organized my photos, and read through my teaching materials. But overall, I have had a lot of time for thinking. And if you remember, too much time thinking can be too much for me and lead to upsetting thoughts, such as asking myself “why am I here?”

When you are serving in the PC, you can’t help but think “why am I here?” It’s inevitable. I was hoping I wouldn’t be thinking about it this early in my service, but I have. I wonder what good can I bring that someone else couldn’t. Can I really make a difference? Will all my hard work be done in vain? Could I make a bigger difference somewhere else? Is teaching English really a worthy cause?

Moldova isn’t perfect, and good can be done here. There are many political problems. The country came from a Soviet Union reign, and you can still see the effects. There are many people who want to work towards a democracy, and there are many who really believed in communism and want to still work towards that. But I can’t help in this area; I lack the knowledge and authority to offer political help. And even if I wanted to, the PC does not allow PCVs to talk about politics, let alone get involved in them.

Then I think about the prejudices that exist here. I could help educate the people. But telling people that what they think of others is wrong is a difficult thing to do. I would need to develop relationships with the people first if I want them to possibly listen to me. And many times, the people believe there is more proof that proves their prejudice correct than supports tolerance. Add the fact I can’t talk above a 2 year-old’s speaking level, and you see my point.

Now I know that teaching is a worth cause, especially if you do it well. I know this. But I’m teaching English. How is that helpful? It feels like those who are learning English are learning it to get out of Moldova, and that’s not helping Moldova develop. Add in the fact that I remember spending so much time planning a lesson with my partner teacher during practice school and feeling like I have only come up with mediocre ideas. I remember how quickly the other trainees had finished their lessons when working with their partners during practice school, finishing easily an hour before me, and they had full confidence in their lessons.

These questions and doubts were bound to cross my mind eventually. And I was worried about the fact that I was thinking about them at the beginning of my 2-year service. But today in class, Svetlana asked me to explain to the students why learning English is important. I looked up some data and numbers to give the students. As I presented the information, the students all stared at me like I was a 3-headed purple giraffe. It didn’t bother me; it will takes some time for the students to get use to me, which is not different in an American classroom.

Even though I think only a few students understood me, I didn’t feel this mini-lesson was done in vain. I felt like I needed to teach this information to myself more than the students. I needed to teach this information right now when I’m wondering why I am teaching English. I needed to give value to what I was teaching. I needed to give value to what I will be doing for the next 2 years. I needed to understand how my work will be useful for Moldovans; how my work will help Moldovans. Although after today, I get the feeling that I will get more from this experience than I will give.

Back To School, Back To School, To Prove To Dad That I’m Not A Fool

So what is the first day of school like when you have no idea of what to do? For me, I pretty much followed my partner teacher around like a lost puppy trying to figure out where I’m supposed to be at each moment. I got to school around 8, and went to Svetlana’s room. She was not there, so I waited around for a bit in Maria’s room, which is right next-door. Once I met up with Svetlana, we went to the schoolyard for the beginning of the school-year ceremony.

All the students were standing around the stage in semicircle. The fifth grade class was brought to the stage to be presented and welcomed to the school since they are new to the school. After the fifth graders were presented, a student performed a song about the school year, followed by the Moldovan anthem being played.

Doamna Ana then spoke for a little bit welcoming in the new school. Then she introduced me to the school. Doamna Ana asked that I prepare a 2-minute speech (one minute in English and one minute in Romanian) to introduce myself and what the Peace Corps does. First I spoke in English, explaining to the student who I was, where I’m from, and what the PC wants me to do this year. Then I translated it into Romanian. There was a little bit of giggling with my Romanian, but mostly stares in amazement. I don’t think they expected me to know Romanian. And when I finished my speech, the students cheered and presented me with some flowers.

After my speech, the mayor spoke for a little while. Afterwards, two high school students carried two fifth grade students around on their shoulders, while the two fifth graders rung a bell. I think it was some kind of ringing in the new school year. And my favorite part was the last song. One of the students preformed a song about the teachers and the school to the tune of Britney Spears’ “Oops, I Did It Again”.

The rest of the day was in the students’ homeroom class. The homeroom teachers (the diriginte) went over school rules and procedures. I stayed with Svetlana, even though I will not be teaching with those students. Svetlana also presented me, and we gave the students time to ask me questions; they mostly just stared at me.

School ended at about 11, and all the teachers went home…so I did too, not really knowing what to do tomorrow. I have a vague idea of which teachers I will work with tomorrow, and Svetlana asked me to talk to the students about why English is important to learn. Other than that, tomorrow will be another day of not really knowing what’s going on.

Meșterul Manole

Today in Criuleni, there was a celebration called Meșterul Manole. It is an international folklore festival, with groups from Lithuania, Russia, Belarus, Ukraine, Bulgaria, Romania, and Başchiria dressed in authentic folkware. This year is a particularly important celebration because it is the 20th year of independence for Moldova.

There were a lot of venders selling all kinds of things: paintings, beaded jewelry, pieces of lace knitting and crochet, woodworks, and other kinds of handmade crafts. It was all very impressive. Doamna Parascovia had a booth as well; she was selling her knittings.

In addition to the venders, there was a lot of dancing, which was my favorite part. Each ethnic group did a performance of some kind on the stage. I often found myself bopping along to the music before realizing that people might notice me. But it didn’t matter because there were many people who danced to the music in the middle of the square. I really enjoyed hearing the music and watching the dancing. 

I wanted to know what the festival was named after, so I looked up the legend of Meșterul Manole. There are some differences between different sites, but this seems to be what I saw the most.

In Romanian mythology, Meşterul Manole (roughly meaning “the master builder Manole”) was the chief architect of the Curtea de Argeş Monastery in Wallachia. The myth of the cathedral's construction is expressed in the folk poem Monastirea Argeşului ("The Monastery on the Argeş River"). 

Negru Voda wanted to build the most beautiful monastery in the country so he hired Master Manole, the best mason of those times, along with his 9 men. Some mysterious curse made that everything Manole and his masons were building in day-time, was doomed to fall down by night. Because the walls of the monastery were always crumbling, the prince threatened him and his assistants with death. 

Manole prayed to God for help in order to continue his work. His plea resulted in a vision in which he was told that, in order to build the most beautiful monastery, he had to wall in someone very beloved by him or by his masons. He told his masons about it and they agreed that the first wife who came there on the following morning should be the victim. The other masons warned their families, so Manole`s wife, Ana (who was pregnant) came first. 

A well-known fragment of the poem depicts the struggle the oblivious Ana took in order to reach the construction site. A devoted wife, she aimed to show up in time with her husband's meal. Manole would have been watching her from atop the walls, begging God to present her with all possible challenges. While God paradoxically listened, and unleashed all sorts of small-scale disasters, Ana kept on walking. She was sent by the destiny and built alive, with her unborn baby. She implored Manole to let her go, but he kept his promise. Thus the beautiful monastery was built and the curse vanished. 

When Manole and his masons told the prince that they could always build an even greater building, Radu Negru had them stranded on the roof so that they could not build something to match it. The action forced Manole and his team to build themselves wings out of shingles (the only material available to them) and attempt to fly off to safety. One by one, they all fell to the ground. A spring of clear water, called after Manole, is said mark the spot where Manole fell.

Baby Steps, Maggie, Baby Steps

So after the first 2 days here in Criuleni, I thought it would be difficult to have time to myself. Well, I was wrong. I haven’t needed to go into work for the past 3 days. I have been calling my partner to talk about me coming in, but there have been seminars for the teachers at the school, which are taught in Romanian. So my partner told me not to come in. I couldn’t tell if they were telling me to stay home because they wanted me to rest or because they didn’t know what do with the American. I’m assuming the first.

But I finally got to go in again today. But it ended up not being exciting at all. My partner teachers were busy with their responsibilities, which they didn’t need my help with, or perhaps they didn’t want my help. So I ended up just sitting by myself and working on retyping a document I needed. After a little while, Svetlana told me I could go home.

I didn’t really accomplish much in terms of collaborating and planning with my partners, but it was nice to just be at the school. Although it was completely unintentional, I felt very left out. I was hoping to help with something; maybe planning our first lesson or coming up with a disciplinary plan. But since it’s the beginning of my relationships with my partners, I didn’t want to come in being demanding and controlling. Today reminded me that this whole experience will require a lot of patience and flexibility from me. We’re taking baby steps. And I won’t be in control the whole time. Just typing this makes me stop and realize how much work these next 2 years will involve. Whew.

The 4 Times I Almost Cried During PST

So far, I have not cried, which I think is a big accomplishment. I thought there would be at least one break down by now. However, I did have my weak moments when I almost cried. And the surprising thing is that for all but one time, I almost cried over something I didn’t think would make me cry.

1. It was during the first week of Practice School (7 weeks into my time here in Moldova) when I was teaching by myself. I had been working until 11:30 every night for 3 nights now, and I was not yet feeling particularly proud of my lessons. It was 6:00 and I had at least 5 hours of work ahead of me. I was walking my 40-minute walk home and feeling overwhelmed by the amount of work we have to do and what is expected of us. I was starting to cry as I was walking, but I still had 10 minutes before I got home and no sunglasses. I did not want everyone in my neighborhood to see me cry as I walked into my host family’s home.

2. My host family was having a masă. I was noticing my host mom and sister interacting, and they reminded me of my mom and me. I was suddenly overwhelmed with missing my mom, which grew into me missing my family and friends. I started to get teary-eyed, but there were 15 people around me and I did not feel like explaining why the American is crying when everyone was being very hospitable.

3. It was 3 days before I was leaving Cojușna. I was walking home when one of the neighbor kids has said hello to me. I had recently learned her name, Mihaela (Cute story: she always says hello to me, and her cuteness stands out compared to the others. One day, she said “hello, Maggie” to me and I said hello back. Her brother was with her and tried to tell her how to say “my name is Mihaela” in English, but she just ended up saying “hello Mihaela” instead. It was very cute. I understood well enough, and now I knew her name). It was very dark, and I could barely make out shapes. But when Mihaela said hello to me, I could easily tell it was her. She giggled when I said “hello, Mihaela”, and I could hear her talking about me once I left. All the sudden I realized that I would not be seeing her or any of the neighborhood kids any more. It took me 2 months to make friends with them, and I walk through a neighborhood everyday. In Criuleni, my house is practically on the main road. I was very upset at the thought of not making friends with neighborhood kids. But I was almost home, and I didn’t want to explain to my host family why I showed up in tears. So I held the tears back.

4. It was the last night in Cojușna, and I was spending it with Holly, Jim, Matt, Lauren, and Cassie at the Cojușna winery. On our way out, I said something about how I was going to miss them. And then it hit me that I was going to be the only American in a 30 kilometer radius, and that I was going to see these guys for several months. My eyes started to water, but Cassie demanded that I stopped because she would start to cry as well. So I did.

Miss Independence

Doamna Parascovia and Roman took me to Chișinău today, and I was able to purchase the things that I needed, including internet. I wasn’t allowed the sign the contract, so Roman signed for me. Due to language barriers and I didn’t know I was going to purchase internet today, I didn’t quite get what internet plan I wanted. But it works fine. Now I will be distracted during my free time, so I won’t be able to solve world hunger and poverty. Perhaps another time. They also took me to Metro, which is Moldova’s version of Costco except much smaller. I was able to get everything I needed.

Today’s interactions made me miss my independence in America. I did not feel like a 25-year-old adult woman. I need be driven places. I need someone else to sign contracts for me. I need help reading what a product is (a lot of things are just in Russian, and I don’t know every Romanian word). I don’t have the flexibility to go purchase anything I need whenever I want. And while I appreciate how helpful Moldovans are with me, I miss the ability to work independently. Well, I’ll try to think of it as something that will make me a better person.

Lingually Challenged

This summer, I was learning Romanian because the school I will teach at has students who speak Romanian. However, I am living with a family that speaks Russian in their home because Roman only knows Russian. Doamna Parascovia speaks Romanian to me. I found all this out when I visited my host family in June.

So today, I found out a couple more challenges with learning Romanian. Camilla is from Italy, and apparently Doamna Parascovia can speak Italian. So when they are talking to each other, it’s in Italian. Finding this out made me feel a little better because I never understood anything they said to each other. Now I know why. And Roman is from Ukraine, but his family is Polish, so sometimes he uses Polish words. Although I haven’t been told such yet, I’m guessing that Roman will also uses some Ukrainian words since that is where he is from. So the following languages are spoken in my new home: Russian, Italian, Polish, Romanian, and possibly Ukrainian. It’s a good thing I’m teaching English because otherwise, I don’t know if I would recognize the language after two years of living here.