The Things I am Thankful For...

This past weekend was the Peace Corps Thanksgiving in Baku. A little slice of America - turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, shared with the people who have become my close friends. It was delicious and amazing and fun. And, not surprisingly, it made me miss home a lot.

It is weird to not be in America for Thanksgiving, with my family and our cheesy traditions and hectic schedule. I spent more time than necessary thinking about the things I am not going to have this year – watching the Macy's parade, green bean casserole, my Dad playing Christmas music after Thanksgiving dinner, and the feeling that the holidays are finally here.

I'm being proactive when I start to get sad, so rather than giving into my holidays-away-from-home-blues, I sat down and wrote a list of the things I am thankful for this year. I'm still a bit homesick, but I'm also a lot happier. Anyway, that list seemed like a good thing to share with you…

- My rad sitemates
- My down slippers and fuzzy socks
- That I don't have to get up at 6 a.m. on Friday to go sell shoes
- Highlights magazines from the Bergs
- That my counterparts are good
- The rare occasions, like this past weekend, when I get to sit instead of squat to go to the bathroom
- Care packages
- When I can have an entire conversation in Azeri – and understand most of it
- When I don't have to try to speak Azeri
- My super warm Peace Corps sleeping bag
- Hand Sanitizer
- Learning how to be simpler
- When it stops raining for a few days so my laundry can dry
- Scrabble and Skip-Bo
- When my host mom makes pumpkin plov
- Coffee
- The days (about twice a week now) that I get to shower
- That I live in an apartment, so my toilet and shower are inside, not outside
- That texting is so cheap and easy
- Books
- Random emails from people I haven't heard from in years
- The daily ego boost of walking into school – I'm still a superstar
- Letters from home
- The pictures that people email from home
- That you can always find a Snickers to satisfy the chocolate craving
- That I'm here, doing something so frickin' cool
- That I've stopped taking for granted what it means to be American
- The people here who have already become like family
- All of you at home who care about me and support me
And, of course,
- That I have a family that loves me and I love them.

And, so I have decided that I am incredibly lucky to be where I am, even if it is not that Thanksgiving I am used to. I will have lavangi and pumpkin pie with my sitemates on Thursday, and think of all of the things that I love – both here and at home. I hope that all of you reading this have a truly lovely holiday and have a list of Thankfuls that is just as good as mine. Happy Turkey Day!!!

The Ride Home...

This past Monday was my first time traveling any real distance in the AZ by myself. I was able to get to Baku with others, but the trip home was gonna be solo. A little daunting, but, for the most part, it was entirely uneventful. The marshuka was easy – I bought my seat, settled in between 2 azeri women (xamins), read my book, listened to the xanims talk about me, and took a nap – arriving 5 bumpy hours later at the Lankaran autovagzal.

Because I was coming from Baku, I had to deliver Double Cheeseburgers from McDonalds to my sitemates (a standing Lankaran rule – if one sitemate goes to the big city without the others, they must come back with Double Cheeseburgers for everyone). So, instead of going straight home , I headed to Tom’s house to distribute the goods. This is where my story gets interesting.

As soon as I got off the marshuka, a taxi driver came up and asked if I needed a ride. “Beli, bes nomra mektebe, zehmet olmasa” (yes, school number 5, please), which is right by Tom’s house. I got in the back, he put my bag up front, and we were off. Along the way, he started asking me questions Where are you from? America. Are you visiting? No, I live here. Are you a teacher? Yes, I’m an English teacher. Do you work at school number 5? No, I work at school number 10. My friend lives near school number 5.

Now, since I’ve gotten to site, I haven’t used my Azeri much at all. I speak English at school and my host family speaks English, so that is what is used mostly at home. So, I was feeling pretty proud about my conversation with the cabbie. That’s right, I thought, I CAN speak and understand this language. Woo Hoo!

A few more questions, then he started singing to me – Turkish pop. Eventually he turned on the radio, I guess as musical background for more questions. How old are you? 30. Are you married? (We get asked that A LOT here, so it wasn’t a big surprise) No. Why not? Because. Why? I don’t want to be. Why? Here I used an Azeri idiom – subayliq sultan liqdir (being single is like being a king). But having a man is good. Yes, but I don’t want that right now.

A few moments of quiet follow and he tells me he likes me very much. Then he tells me he loves me very much. Again, this happens all the time here. On a daily basis, I have students, teachers, and perfect strangers tell me that they love me. So, no big deal from the taxi driver, right?

Finally, we arrive at school number 5. I hop out and the driver gets out to give me my bag. First he tries to overcharge me for the ride, which I protested to. Then he knocks down the price to the regular price because he “loves me very much.” He reaches out to hand me my bag, then…dramatic pause… he kisses my neck. NOT COOL!!!! And – BLEGH!!!!!!! I proceeded to grab my bag and walk away as quickly as I could. And, again, blegh, blegh, blegh.

I have to tell you, I still shudder a little when I think about it. You know when you eat something really gross and you can still taste it weeks later when you remember? Kinda like that. On the flip side, though, when I think about it, I laugh a lot. I mean, really, a five minute ride and he loves me and kisses my neck?!? Come on! I could over react and take it really seriously and be freaked out, but I think the funny aspect of it is much better. I will tell you this though, I am not practicing my language skills on taxi drivers anymore!

Call Me Dr. Jane...

Part of being in the Peace Corps is about having crazy-new experiences. I knew that coming into this. Well, this one is so crazy-new, it gets a whole blog about it. And, to be perfectly honest, I kinda wish I hadn’t had this particular experience.

The other day, I was in my room, minding my own business, when my host sister knocked on my door. “Jane, do you know injections?” Not your typical question I grant you, but, I have become used to my host family thinking that I am somehow equipped with a kinds of medical knowledge and supplies. Plus, we have talked a bit about the fact that I am diabetic, so I thought it might be a question about that. “Yes,” I replied, “I have to do them everyday for my insulin. Why?”

She proceeded to tell me that my host mom needed a shot of her medicine because she wasn’t feeling well. Could I do it? I hesitated and tried to get out of it, “I can only jab a needle into a fleshy part of the body, like your arm or leg. I can’t do anything difficult.”

Side note – before you get too impressed with my Azeri skills, my host sister speaks English. I wouldn’t have made it passed “Jane, do you know” if it was in Azeri. Back to the story.

After a lengthy discussion, it was established that it wasn’t really a complicated procedure. I had my reservations, for sure. But, there was also the voice in my head asking who was I to not help a sick old lady just because the idea kinda sketches me out. I took a deep breath, thinking I really didn’t want to do it, and said ok.

So, they prepared the syringe and medicine. I washed my hands – if I’m gonna do, I had better be all hygienic and sterile about it. My host mom laid down on the couch, squeezed her eyes shut, pulled down her pants, and I jabbed the needle in. That’s right I gave my host mom a shot in the butt. In the butt. Sorry, I just had to say it twice.

Now, when I signed up for Peace Corps, I knew I was going to see and do things I would never have expected. I knew I would be acquiring all kinds of new skills for my resume. But one thing is for sure – I absolutely never thought derrier injections would be a part of that list. Do you think that go under special skills or work experience?

Descision time...

So, after my first two weeks of school, I had to make a decision about the classes I would be working with. Talk about terrifying! I mean, how do you choose between nine people who are all hoping and expecting that you will choose them? Add to that pressure the expectations of all of the students – everybody begged me to be in their class. And, of course, there is the fact that this choice affects the next two years of my life and could totally make or break my Peace Corps experience.... Yikes!

Over the course of those first weeks, I observed about a million English classes, and they covered the whole range of possibilities – the good, the bad, and the ugly. As I watched, I tried to take notes about the students, the teachers, and the grade level to try to make the best descision possible. I studied all of the teachers’ respective schedules. I looked through textbooks. I tried to talk to each teacher about their teaching style. And still, when it came down to deciding, it was virtually impossible.

My big question became – how do I decide? Do I choose the teachers I really like, or do I base my decision on the classes like the best, or, do I just choose the class times I like the most? And, do I have to work with the guy everyone else thinks I should work with because that is what’s expected – even if I don’t think we would work well together?

After spending a bit of time freaking out, I finally started making descisions. I don’t want to work with the 10th and 11th forms. In fact, I really like the younger forms – the kids seem sweeter and they are all closer together in ability. That makes the teacher part a bit easier – only a few of them teach 5th, 6th, and 7th forms. And, by a happy accident, it rules out the person I was concerned about having to work with – he only teaches the upper levels. So, then it is fitting the timetable puzzle together. And, like magic, the schedules of the 2 teachers I thought would be the best choice fit together perfectly. And, just as icing on the cake, with this schedule, the earliest lesson I have starts at 11:20am. Descion made!

I will be teaching 2 sections each of the 5th and 7th forms and 1 section of the 6th form. The teachers – Ruhanjis and Afag – are really excited to have me in their lessons. I think all of the others understood my descision. I hope I didn’t hurt any feelings. The students in my classes are, of course, thrilled. And, most importanty, I feel like I made the right choice. I am working with teachers who are eager to have me and work with me. It is the material I am most comfortable teaching. I get to teach students who are still interested and excited about learning English. And, I get to sleep in. Yup, I’m happy with my descision.

Observation...

The first two weeks of school were my time to observe the classes, teachers, and students. Hopefully, that would be enough time to decide what classes and teachers I wanted to work with for the next two years. What a crazy interesting experience that turned out to be!

School here is six days a week, but, in my school, English classes are only Tuesday through Friday. Not a bad schedule at all. I can handle a four day work week. There are nine English teachers in my school. My goal was to observe as many of their lessons as possible. Every day, I went to five or six lessons – ranging from the fifth form (about 11 years old) to the eleventh form (about 16 years old).

As the kids get older, the split in skill level gets bigger and bigger. Teachers teach to the good students, dismissing the weaker ones. More than once I had a teacher tell me that this particular student or class was weak as a way of excusing the lesson. Hmmmm. Ok. I begin to understand some of the reasons it is important for me to be here.

Lessons begin with the teacher greeting the students, “Good morning/afternoon, students.” The kids, all standing at their desks, yell back, “Good morning/afternoon, teacher.” That was more than a little overwhelming the first time I experienced it. Then the lesson begins. The text books are gospel. Everything comes straight from the book. But, the thing is, the books are really hard to f ollow, and, in many cases, have information that is just incorrect. The kids learn vocabulary by writing the word in English – in cursive, by the way – then writing the transcription in the phonetic alphabet, then the transation in Azeri. Rote memorization is the primary method of learning. The textbooks all have these lengthy texts that the kids have to memorize and retell. When they are asked questions, they quote directly from the reading. I don’t think they actually understand what they are reading about and saying, but they sure can repeat it well.

I have mentioned that I am something of a superstar here – being the first American guest at the school is a very big deal. Being in the classroom has done nothing to change that status. In every lesson I watched, Miss Jane was the star attraction. The kids have been far more interested in me than in the lessons. The best example of this comes from an 8th form class I was watching. The kids did what every other class had been doing – talking about me in Azeri and trying to ask me questions. Pretty early on, I decided the way to handle this was to tell them they could ask me anything – as long as it was in English. They asked a few questions before their English skills ran out, and the teacher began the actual lesson. I was sitting quietly on the side of the room. I glanced around and noticed one of the boys surruptisciously taking pictures of me with his phone. That’s right, I have paparazzi. He saw me notice and tried to hide the camera. Ever the generous celebrity, I smiled and told him it was ok. He continued to snap photo throughout the rest of the class. Later, in the same class two kids gave me pens as a gift. A black one and a sparkly blue one. Nice. Fame really is both wonderful and terrible.

So, now, I must decide which of these classes I want to work with. Peace Corps requires me to teach about fifteen hours a week. For my own sanity, it is best if I work with only 2 or 3 teachers. It will be hard to tell the teachers I don’t choose that I can’t work with them. But, a decision must be made. Wish me luck!

One of the big things I got to see during my observation period was how much opportunity I have to make a difference here. Working with the teachers to make the lessons and classroom experience better. Working with the students to help even the “weak” ones feel like they can learn something and do well in school. Is that obnoxiously optimistic? I hope not.

The First Day of School

Saturday, September 15th was the first day of school – a holiday that is called The Day of Knowledge in Azerbaijan. I have spent two and a half months preparing for this moment, and here it finally was.

The first day starts with a ceremony, then, the kids go into classes. The ceremony takes place in the courtyard in front of the school. It started at 8 am. Which, in azertime, means it didn’t actually start until about 8:30.

I got to the school a few minutes early – dressed up in my pretty brown dress, hair done and makeup on to make a good first impression on the whole school. I was terrified as I walked up to the building! There were already several students and teachers milling around. There was a table with a microphone and giant speakers set up on the landing going into the school – the “stage” for our Day of Knowledge ceremony. I greeted the director – who knows no English. Our conversations get reduced to the few words we can communicate with in Azeri and lots of hand signals. Immediately, he had me sit down at the table on the “stage.” No hiding in the background for me, I was going to be up front and center, on display. Yikes!

A few of the teachers I had already met came up and said hello. We chatted a bit while we waited. Then, the director asked me to give a speech. A speech?!?! But, it is ok, they prepared us for this in training. We were told that we would probably be asked to give a short speech introducing ourselves. I can do this. Then I asked a few questions about the speech – just to introduce myself, right? “Oh, no!” they said. “We already have introduced you. No, give a speech like you do on the first day of school in America, congratulating everyone on the Day of Knowledge and the new school year.” Ummmmmmmmmmmmmm. Never done that before. Luckily, one of the English teachers coached me through what to say and we came up with a good speech – well, they pretty much told me what to say. And, even better, I got to give the speech in English and they would translate for me. Phew.

All of the students stand in lines by form (grade) in the courtyard. This is how they begin everyday of school. This day, they just had the pleasure of standing there for about 45 minutes longer. The itty bitty first formers stood off to the side – eagerly anticipating their first ever day of school. And, these little ones all had giant bouquets of Azer flowers – plastic, surrounded by fancy netting and foil and ribbons. In virtually every case, the bouquet was larger than the child. It was probably the cutest thing I have ever seen. At least in Azerbaijan.

Finally, the ceremony started. Music started playing to signify the beginning. The students were standing in their lines. I was sitting at the big front table next to the Director and several other teachers and staff members. Two of the students mc’d the thing. First, the national anthem. And, of course, again, I got the giggles. I can’t really explain why, but every time… Luckily, I controlled it enough that I don’t think anyone noticed. The Director stood up and said some things. Then some other teachers said some things. A group of the little first formers came up and recited a poem. Again, super cute.

And then, it was my turn to speak. I stood up. All of the students cheered. Seriously. I felt like a super star. And here’s what I said… “Salam (hello). On behalf of the Peace Corps and the United States of America, I would like to congratulate the Director, teachers, and students on the Day of Knowledge. I welcome you all to the first day of school and I wish you great success in the upcoming school year. Sag olun (thank you).” And they cheered again. Even louder. That’s right, I am a super star.

Now, I don’t know if I can do anything on behalf of the Peace Corps, or the United States, but I sure did it. In my defense, they made me – I tried to say it in a different way as we were planning it before the ceremony, but they kept making me say it that way. I know that’s not a good defense. Oh, well. If I get in trouble - Oops. Sorry.

They finished the ceremony, closed it with more music, and the students filed into school. There are no English classes on Saturdays, so I was free to go. I checked the timetable to find out when I had to come back the next week, then, headed home to change into jeans and relax. Ahhh.

There have been more than a few completely surreal moments here in the AZ, but this one takes the cake – so far. I felt like I was in some bizarre movie. And, I loved it. Next year I’m gonna do the speech in Azerbaijani. I guess I’ll have to learn how to say behalf in Azeri.

I've Got Mail

Now that I am a real life PCV, I don't get the "perks" of being a trainee. Which means, Peace Corps can't recieve mail for me anymore. I will have a permenent address in a few weeks, which I will give out as soon as I get it. For now, though, all of my adoring fans who have been sending me letters and such, get to take a break.

I want to thank everyone who has sent stuff. You have no idea how cool it is to get mail here. A letter or postcard or package from home has turned around many a bad day. Thank you, thank you, thank you.