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?
