A Good Day For Sleeves

Today was a good day for sleeves and it wasn't because of the cold that has set in. I had my last class with my 10th form students today and I just couldn't fight back the tears when it all became quiet and they thanked me for my time with them. I love all my students and teachers at my school, but how I love them is different because love needs that. It needs to find different pathways. With this class, I loved them from the start. The first time we met, I felt their energy and saw in each of their faces such great potential.

I made them a short video to thank them for being such great students and in this video, I included a picture of them from the first year that I started teaching. They were so young and silly and now they're older and more mature (and much taller). I am so glad that I could witness their growth and be a small part of their lives here in Ukraine.

So yes, it was a good day for sleeves, but particularly the sleeves attached to the sweater which I have hand washed, laid on heaters, and worn for two years. I think they were waiting for this moment, preparing and stretching so they could fit far enough over my hands to wipe my eyes from the hardest kind of tears. Is life always this bittersweet?

I know I'll come back to Ukraine. Our heartstrings will forever be entangled. I know it's not my native country, but it has been my home for two years, and a good one, too. I have gotten used to it. I have learned its customs, I have drunk its conyak, prepared and eaten its varenyky, corrected its lack of article grammar mistakes, ridden on its busses, slept (or laid awake on) its night trains, nodded my head through confusing Russian conversations, eaten whatever anyone wanted me to eat, sang Ukrainian harmonies with my teachers in the forest, and found so many dear friends. It has all become a part of me, just like all of the other homes I've found over the years. Homes may not always be tangible, but I have marked their places on my map so I will never be lost.

Don't be fooled. I rolled up my long sleeves and quit being a baby to take this photo...

Давайте Play: Balancing Work and Play in the Classroom

This is not a "how to" post because I haven't exactly figured out how to balance work and play in the classroom. I've been at my school for two years and because I am the first American and Peace Corps Volunteer there, I still get giggly "hellos" and even "avtograph" requests. I know, I know, I'm awesome, right? Nope. If I was awesome, students would listen to me all the time during my lessons, but they don't. One reason might be because they have figured out that I have no real authority at school. I'm not allowed to escort student on trips or kick kids out of class, I usually have no idea what's going on at my school  when it comes to events, concerts, and good old surprise holidays, and the marks I give aren't always taken seriously. For example, when I give a student a 10 (out of 12) and their actual teacher says, "how about an 8 instead" the students excitement turns into disappointment and then into them not caring as much about trying hard in my class. I'll never fully understand the grading system here and I'll never fully like it...

Another reason they get a little crazy is because they kind of expect me to do something fun all the time. When I first started teaching here in Melitopol, I wanted to make a good impression so I created fun dynamic lessons. This is hard work and sometimes I get a little lazy and I just want to slip into classic "to the books" teaching mode. Don't get me wrong, I love to have fun with my students, but we can't just play games all the time, no matter how much fun I have tricking them into learning. Sometimes the English classroom should be quiet. Sometimes students should write their ideas down in their notebooks, while they peacefully ponder and make grammatical errors for me to check.

The other day, as I walked into the classroom, on of my tenth form students said, "Давайте play!" Let's play!  Only three students showed up that day due to illness, so I gave in and we played my favorite game, Celebrity (for rules on how to play, see this list of games). In that case, it was OK to play a game, but later on that day, my eighth form class did not deserve the same treatment. They were terrible. They were loud and scatterbrained and I couldn't hear the answers from the serious students in the front. Sometimes, I do the silent thing and wait until it's quiet. The students eventually get bored and confused about what to do and then they get it. This time, I did that and wrote the number 9 on the board and asked them to guess what it meant. It was the number of lessons we had left before I leave Ukraine. I said, in a calm voice because I don't like yelling, "Is this how you want to be? We have 9 classes left and you want to be noisy? You want to do nothing? 9 lessons. What do you want to do?"  Some of the students were surprised, some of them were teary (including myself), and one student decided to answer my question. She stood up with excitement and shouted, "PLAY GAMES!" Some students agreed and cheered and ruined my attempt at being sarcastic, but I could tell some students saw my frustration and respected it.

I told them we could only play games if they had good behavior and I'm trying to stick to this plan, but sometimes, I give in and put some extra effort into making class more fun. I don't know if this is good or bad or if the teacher who has to teach the kids after me suffers from leftover game energy...but I'm working on finding the balance and for now, I'll do my best to stay strong.

I've compiled a list of my favorite games on my other blog, teachloveplayenglish.blogspot.com. Here's the link to my Repertoire of Games.

One Day: Leadership Seminar at School 16

Last Saturday, my counterpart and I organized a seminar to give Melitipol students and teachers some lessons on civic education. We received a SPA (Small Project Assistance) grant from USAID which helped us get the things we needed to make our civic education project a success. That included office supplies (paper, markers, tape, notebooks, folders...etc), a projector and a screen, a laptop, and a video camera. While these things are great for projects, they are just that—things and things don't get us as far as the exchanging of ideas does. At these seminars, I saw students and teachers rise above the material world and use common sense and creativity to create potential and doable volunteer projects for Melitopol's community.

We split up the kids and the grownups. Students learned about leadership and participated in an active discussion about volunteerism with a living library (thanks to my dear fellow volunteers!). The adults stuck with Cynden and Logan for Project Design and Management and Fundraising training. After lunch, we did group work and had students create a potential volunteer project, with the guidance of their teachers. During this activity, I noticed that the students were more active than their adult counterparts. I also noticed that they had in their lexicon words like attainable, sustainable, and realistic.

When everyone was finished creating their project poster, we moved to the hall so the students could represent their posters and talk about their project. Everyone walked around, listened, and voted on their favorite. The winning project was called "Discover Yourself." It was a hobby club taught by volunteer students. Maybe this is not the most original idea, but they wrote down their goals and objectives, outlined steps for implementing their project, discussed potential fundraising ideas and a plan for future growth. This is very promising.

Ukraine is a great country, but it can be confusing at times. It can make you feel like you're being pulled in multiple directions: East vs. West, Ukrainian vs. Russian, "I miss the soviet union; The roads were taken care of..." vs. "The young people don't know how bad it was; They don't know that we had to eat dirt." I saw some of this at the seminars, the tension between the new generation and the older one. But it had a kind of balance. The fact that they participated showed that they care. Almost everyone tried and contributed something interesting to all of our discussions and activities and this made me happy.

At the end, I thanked the teachers for showing their students how to be good leaders. Some students came up to me afterwards to say that they really enjoyed the seminar. These are the students who will lead Ukraine into its bright future...one day.

What's Not to Miss?

The night before Logan and I were about to leave the first apartment we had together, I came down with a fever. The next day I would start a new job, spread a terrible cold around the office, and officially move back upstate with my parents. We had already moved our bed to the house over the weekend so I slept in Logan's arms on the floor, shivering me timbers. The place was empty except for the things we wanted to leave behind--a broken couch frame, hunter green walls, the roach nest. (Just kidding; the roach nest had been disbanded way before the move was even conceived.)

Before we moved our stuff out, I found myself taking pictures of random things in the apartment. So many terrible pictures with no artistic angles in mind made more terrible by the fact that I used a film camera and rolls of film would actually have to be taken somewhere to get developed. I did it in a desperate attempt to capture the little details that I knew I'd forget, for example, the last standing location of our floor lamp, the view from our fifth floor window, the different variations and stretches of space between me and the door. One day, I thought, I'd use those pictures as prompts to remember life at apartment 5G, how new it was, how fun it was, and how hard it was to leave. Sometimes, they may be sad and delirious, but all memories--good and bad-- are part of something bigger. Bigger, even, than a 600 square foot L-shaped studio.

I've already written about how everything I do is potentially the last time I do it. A friend of mine wonderfully put it like this:

"I'd like to not be sitting on the toilet in tears the last time I take a crap in my apartment but I can tell you for sure that that is exactly what is going to happen." 

He gets it. This is the point we're at right now, as Peace Corps Volunteers wrapping up our service. Even thinking about saying goodbye to the little things--whether it's the shampoo we buy, the scratchy toilet paper, or the Ukrainian deodorant we use that doesn't seem to work but it's our only option--is emotional. Maybe never wanting to forget how earthy the toilet paper makes me materialistic or delirious. I don't know. As I get ready to leave Melitopol, Ukraine, I feel the need to capture as much as I can, this time through blogging. I feel like this is the more responsible choice. Otherwise, I'd probably come back to America looking a little crazy as airport security asks me to open my suitcase only to find it's completely filled with toilet paper.

Mmm, roughage!

A little while back, my students asked me what I will miss the most about Melitopol. I thought about it, grew silent, and told them they weren't allowed to ask me that because I was going to cry. Today it snowed on October 3rd. It's freezing and there is no heat, the Teachers Day celebration at my school was canceled, the electrical socket in my living room is popping out of the wall, I dropped and shattered a plate in the kitchen, and I'm on fire. I know it may seem like I'm being sarcastic, but I'm really just trying to savor everything. At this point, toilet paper in hand as I blow my red nose and write this post, I'm genuinely thinking: what's not to miss?

Oh Babe I Hate to Go

I worked at a teacher training summer camp with some (of the best) Peace Corps Volunteers and on the "last" night there, we had a bonfire with all of the teachers and three guitars. We sang pop songs, old Ukrainian folk songs, and we forgot the words to a lot of half sung American folk songs. At the end of the night, after all of the teachers headed back to their rooms, a few Peace Corps Volunteers stayed behind to sing a couple more songs. We ended up singing "Leaving on a Jet Plane." This song used to bring me back to the moments after Thanksgiving dinner when my family would gather around the table after cleaning up to sing songs with Uncle Tom. Now, this song has another meaning for me. It didn't hit me until the next day, when a friend mentioned that he got teary-eyed when we were singing. "We're literally going to be leaving on a jet plane soon," he said. I almost cried.

With a little under four months left in Ukraine, I look at the roll of garbage bags and eight boxes of matches left in my kitchen and wonder if I'll even need to buy more.  Everything we do feels like our potential last time doing it--it might be the last time we see this person, walk that street, or sing that song together. I don't like "lasts" these days, and I hope that they aren't as real as they seem. I'm leaving on a jet plane, but who's to say I won't come back? And who's to say that all of the people that have had such an impact on me won't come and visit me in America?

Speaking of America, I'll be back there in December. I am so excited to see everyone, but at the same time, oh babe I hate to go.

K

Last Last Bell

We celebrated the last bell on Friday, 24 May. I realized it was my last last bell in Ukraine and so I took a lot of photos, to document and to remind me later. Every great moment felt like saying goodbye, even though we still have seven months left. However, time does not pass in a normal way when you are a Peace Corps Volunteer. I know that seven months will transform into 7 days, into 7 seconds before take off back to America. I've got to stock up on my memory capital. Here's some I'd like to share with you:

Old School Uniforms and Dance

This metaphor is very popular in Ukraine

Setting up the table for eating, drinking, and drinking.

Back at the Liman, smell of fish and salt

Ladies of the Liman 

Three small swallows and a giant falling

We are the tide coming in 

Pioneer Boy lost his hand in battle

Games

Choreography

Tra la la-ing in the forest

My Manfairy

Congratulations 11th formers on graduating!
Congratulations School 16 for finishing a wonderful year!

April and May Holidays

Look who has come crawling back, out of the dust which lies untouched on the top of all my shkoffs because April was poetry month. Ok fine, that dust has been untouched since forever because I hate dusting, but I did spend an entire month writing poems and stories and one of them is going to be published in the postcard prose section of The Literary Bohemian in June!

Other than writing, I have been waking up to blue skies. It has not rained in weeks and it is sunny every day. You'd think that every day would just melt into the next, but going to a Ukrainian wedding, planning a teacher seminar, showing up to a non-existent parade on May Day, experiencing Orthodox Easter, and seeing Stalin's flag waving on Victory Day have broken the days up quite nicely.

Ukrainian Wedding: Lena and Sasha, 2013!
We went to our friend Lena's parent's apartment to witness the fun and games before the official wedding ceremony. Logan and I stood outside the apartment building where family members and friends were gathered. Sasha arrived and was immediately asked questions in order to be allowed to pass through. We guessed he answered right when he stepped into the building and started up the stairs. We were really confused as the guests trailed behind him, making their way up the stairs too, so we followed them until we made it to the fourth or fifth floor. There, Lena was held captive until the captors were convinced that Sasha was telling the truth as he confessed his undying love to his wife to be, "я люблю тебя!" The ceremony was short and sweet and Logan and I were the only ones who did not bury Lena with flowers. (Why do we always forget the importance of flowers in Ukraine?!) The reception was held at a Crimean restaurant and it was lovely. It was similar to an American wedding reception, but with more games including one where a man had to be wrapped like a baby in a diaper. Sorry for the blurry photos; I was basically dancing the whole night and my camera just can't hand my moves!

Teacher Training Seminar
I received a SPA grant to help promote Leadership and Volunteerism in Ukraine and we had our first seminar this April. My counterpart was ill so a colleague stepped in to help. The seminar was very active, which was perfect, although I wished I could have had a little more time to do a recap at the end. I want to thank the Peace Corps Volunteers that helped me create a living library about Volunteerism at this seminar (Thank you Joey, Rachel, Cynden, and Logan!).

May Day Mayhem
We (Logan, Joey, Cynden, Kristen, Sarah, and I) went to the square in the morning and waited for a parade that never came. We think it was because the mayor is in jail and the intermim mayor has gotten too wrapped up in mayhem to remember to organize a parade to celebrate Melitopol's workers. When we saw no balloons or flags, we decided to walk to Gorkova Park and get some shashlik. After the men left for their camping trip in Crimea, the ladies got together and had a feast with cookies, fruit, champagne, and the like until there were just two of us left. The day was young so Cynden and I called a cab and visited our friends in Krasnaya Gora. I'll let the pictures finish this story.

Ukrainian Easter (Paska)

Orthodox Easter was celebrated on 5 May this year. I went to my counterpart's house and baked some paska (a lot of paska) and the next morning we went to the church to "bless" eggs and bread. We stood outside the church at seven, waiting for the gates to open so we could be pushed in like cattle and find a place to stand in the churchyard. People laid out bottles of wine, opened bags of cheese, uncovered their paska, and the priest came around and sprayed us with water. It was actually really funny. Everyone was laughing, dripping wet,  and wiping water away from their eyes, except Logan who used me, Olya, and her daughter as a shield. 

Victory Day, 9 May

There was no parade for Victory day, either, but there was a ceremony in the center of town. It was a blast from the Soviet past and I loved it. The Ukrainian national anthem, the speeches made by Melitpol's oldest to youngest, the flag of Stalin blowing in the wind, the triumphant singing, the marching, the letting go of balloons, the watching them fly away. A man passed out in the crowd and a woman took photos of him being carried away on a stretcher to an old ambulance that looked like a drawing a little kid made sixty eight years ago.

Oh, and then there was this gem:

Look closely at the family in the background

Men's Day--23 February 2013

On the last week of February, the sixth form girls stayed late at school to prepare prizes, surprises, and to make posters for their fellow male students. All this preparation was for Men's Day (День Мужчин) or, The Defender of the Fatherland Day (День защитника Отечества). This holiday used to honor soldiers (in the Red Army) until it was extended to all men after the Soviet Union collapsed in 1991.

It was adorable. These girls were working so hard with their class teacher, Lena, and they were diligently painting an airplane red on the congratulatory men's day poster. I asked Lena, "Do the boys work so hard to prepare for women's day?" and she replied, "Well, their mothers do!"  

Men's Day was over a week ago, but it's still Ukraining men in my mind. Maybe it's because I am "женщина--друг человека" оr man's best friend, which was written on a handmade medal that was given to me by my friend Vitali on Men's day. Logan's medal read "Миру мир--студентам BEER" Which is something like, for peace on earth--be a student of beer. We all went to Vitali's house in the Red Mountain region of Melitopol to "congratulate our men" and celebrate. There were small competitions which Logan and Jon participated in (the two American men of the bunch). First, they had to strip down to their boxers and wrap themselves in a blanket before the fire of a match went out. Then, they had to put their clothes back on before the match was spent again. At some point, there was a pushup competition. Don't worry, I used up all the memory I needed with my camera, which is safely stored, never to be released. You'll just have to believe me or live in doubt until I one day have enough courage to leak this sensational video footage.

On this night, the women sat inside, chatted, sipped, braided hair (ingredients for a фотосессиa). The men stood outside by the fire drinking conyac and making shashlik as their jackets breathed in the smoke. It was because of these jackets, the following day, that we became woozy, smelling the fire and  remembering how much we consumed the night before. We survived and are now gearing up for the eighth of March which is Women's Day. It may just be the biggest holiday in Ukraine and I think it's awesome (and sad that I had never really heard of this international holiday until I came to Ukraine). After women's day, and rightfully so, we will celebrate Maslenitsa (Ма́сленицa) which is literally a week of eating pancakes, shaped like the sun. More on that, later.

Where did January Go? Где Января?

Well, I'll tell you. Но, я вам скажу!

January went whizzing past the New Year, which was spent with our Ukrainian friends. We danced, we sang, we drank champagne and homemade conyak, shashlik (bbq) was literally man-made while the ladies prepared a variety of salads, including Ukraine's national Olivie (салат оливье). We celebrated at 10 for Russia, and then at 12 for us, while we lit sparklers and ran into the night to see fireworks in the distance.

Then, January jumped over a good friend's birthday party and into a freezing lake the next day where we "washed away our sins" (or maybe just our fears) for Jesus' baptism, or Кришение (video to come).

January carried us to Kiev on a hot and sleepless twelve-hour train after which it lifted us away to a small hotel in Chernigov where we remembered that we studied Russian for three months before shamefully forgetting to study for 12 subsequent months. But January, my speedy savior, thank you for giving me new motivation to learn Russian.

That whole ordeal, obviously, made January take a quick marshrutka ride to our host family, who met us with open arms, wine, vodka, games, laughter, and delicious food.

January, you conquered yourself and faded into February, but I won't forget you yet.

Photos taken by Nastya and Sasha Telikova

Universe One, Two, Three (and Counting)

Being in a different country is like living in a parallel universe. The similarities and differences are felt but not always seen. They creep up on you sometimes and when they do, you start to see things very clearly. Things you never really noticed before. Things about America, my home sweet poem. I'll even remember strange things that I never actually said back home, but have now come into my life, like proverbs.

My last days in New York seem like this still image that I imagine staying the same until I get back, after the Peace Corps. Maybe this idea isn't too far from the truth. When I left in September, there was an old washing machine on my mom and dad's front lawn. When I talked to them a couple months later, it was still there, sinking into the grass. I was convinced that when I came home two years later, it would still be there, (or sunken halfway to China, at least). It has since been moved and my safe little sheltered still image has now become a motion film. For example: (1) my sister finished graduate school, passed her exam, and is now looking for a social work job; (2) Hurricane Sandy destroyed my Mom's car and she now has a new one; and (3) My younger siblings and cousins are growing up!

Because I am so far away, I thought that my old universe would be on pause until I return. Part of it is, since I'm living a different life. My new Ukrainian universe will hold me over until my triumphant return (bells, parades, tears, bottle clanks please). Sometimes, though, I peak back at my old self, and the family and friends that surrounded me, and in doing so, I have created another universe--one that is a combination of old and new, change and stagnation, knowing and unknowing. That's when I realize that even though they are thousands of miles away, life is still moving, even though I'm not there to witness it first hand. So, I've figured it out. I'm living in three universes at once: Home, as in my still life in New York; Home, as in where my body rests on my uncomfortable bed in Ukraine; and Home, in limbo, browsing the different worlds of my existence--whether it's via facebook or my own dreams.

I can definitely count more than three universes in my life...There's the one where I daydream about the real possibilities of me going to Mars to start a colony (check this out and you'll understand me better), the one where I don't leave my apartment for two days, the one where I can only go to sleep if I watch Star Trek: Next Generation, the one where I obsessively look up graduate school programs and wonder about my future, the one where I pinch myself for not being able to be completely in the moment (because of all the other universes pulling at my heart strings?!!?!?!).

Is this a disease? If it is, I've got it and I've been living with it my whole life. So, if you suffer from the constant attention that parallel universes demand, embrace it. It's an adventure.

Challenges in the Classroom

In early September, I took my counterpart and a student to Kiev for PEPFAR (President's Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief) training. It was amazing. We all learned so much about HIV/AIDS in general and the problems that Ukraine faces. Education is one of them, and as a Peace Corps volunteer, it's my duty to help in this arena. At the training, we had a Q&A session with five people living with HIV, which included a teenager, a commercial sex worker, a mother, a drug user, and a gay man. It was really interesting to hear all their stories and outlooks on life and I was surprised by all of them. In the next couple of months, we'll have an HIV/AIDS education seminar at my school and teach students biology, prevention, prejudice and what we can do to help Ukraine with this problem. Check back in December if you want to know how this went.

The semester started up in September, but I'm still getting used to my classes. For some reason, this semester is harder. Last semester I was shiny and new and now I think I need to shed my skin and get that shine back. Oh what a glistening new teacher I would be!!!!  And that's just it; I'm still a new teacher and a changed teacher. Every time I teach, I am changed. My outlook changes, my goals change, my ideas change, my lesson plans change. I'm constantly reflecting and regrouping myself to try to be a good teacher.

I was given a new group of students this semester. I like to call them  The Wild Bunch. These little outlaws are testing me. By eating, rapping, singing, throwing candy, cursing, proposing to me, tossing sunflower seeds on the floor, and trying to break my spirit.

Well, what do you know, I'm still alive, although a little more stressed than usual. I'm working it out. If anyone has any tips on effectively dealing with troubled students and managing the classroom, let me know. I want to be stable for these children, but at this point, I'm just experimenting with different discipline techniques that I know little about. I even yelled in class! That was weird and I didn't like it. Maybe it's necessary? Their just kids and they can't all be cute. I'm wondering, though, if when the students are all grown up and reminiscing about their teachers and school, if I will be in their memories as the teacher who a.) got so mad that she threw a chair (or child) out the window; b.) got locked up in the maintenance closet and left alone to weep and rue the day she decided to leave her office job; or 3.) was able to wrangle up those outlaws and actually teach the students something to remember. We'll see. Teaching is an adventure. (If this were a choose your own adventure book, what would you choose?!)

More about my semester: I'm teaching first formers, and they are super cute. One day, I went to class and there was this one boy who couldn't sit in his seat because he just had to be called on. He was begging for it. The kids had to look at a picture and say what they liked: I like elephants, I like cats...etc. When this kid was finally called on, he shouted, "I like boys!!!" I laughed out loud. Basically, I'm singing and dancing and getting hugs nonstop in this class.

All together I'm teaching 16 classes and 10 different groups of students a week and 5 English clubs.  I work with grades 1, 5-11. I'm lucky to be teaching an American Literature and an American culture class for the 11th formers. I work with a Ukrainian teacher who can translate any difficult material (because their text books are way too difficult). Last week we talked about the roaring 20s and they got a kick out of it. I assigned them a famous person from the 1920s and they will present next week. I'm just hoping they actually prepare for this...or I'm going to have to experiment with a new and unproven discipline technique of my fancy! (Yes, I just said fancy.)