Day 3 - July 9th

Day 3 marked the beginning of my experience as a teacher. It was also somewhat disastrous, in that I didn’t really have a plan of attack. I quickly realized why my friends who are teachers so often post something about “lesson plans” on their away messages.

I had plenty of help from a few of the teachers at the school, and some young people who were also associated with the school. One girl, Olga, had gone on an exchange program to some high school in Delaware, so I quickly realized that she would be a very big help. Also another older girl, Kira, who studied English in Irkutsk, is just now entering the realm of professional teaching, and will also be a big help.

My first class of the day was the 3rd and 4th graders (I’m not sure if this translates directly into American grades). I had them introduce themselves, then we played the number game a la high school French class. Then we went outside and I taught the students how to play Steal the Bacon. A lot of the students are girls in girly shoes and dresses, so it was kind of pathetic, but at least they enjoyed themselves and got to run around.

Then came the 1st and 2nd graders. These younger kids have a propensity for mayhem, but this is to be expected I guess. The teachers kept telling me to sing them American songs or little poems or something. Yeah, that was not happening. When was the last time I had to sing kids’ songs? 10… 12 years ago? You would think I would remember some songs, but honestly, try to think of some yourself… it’s not that easy. Or maybe I’ve just purged from memory my irrelevant childhood.

So apparently every day we’re going to be eating lunch courtesy of the Gimnasia No. 2 lunchlady, Natalya Viktorovna. This marks the beginning of the Hot Lunch Review. Today’s meal was most certainly an A-caliber meal. Basically there was a huge pile of cheesesteak-style meat, mixed with onions and cheese and other assorted deliciousness. Aside from that there were fresh cucumbers, apricot juice (on which I am now hooked) and buckwheat (which doesn’t taste a whole lot different from rice).

One weird thing that happened at lunch was that everyone knew I didn’t like tomatoes. The only way they knew, though, is that yesterday at the lake, when we were eating little sandwiches on the beach, I gave my tomatoes to Christina. So now apparently everyone knows about my disdain for the most foul of fruits. After lunch, one of the teachers started saying something about saying “Thankees,” as if it was some expression that people used often. She had heard that English-speaking students said “Thankees” and “Welcomees.” I gently explained that I had never heard that particular lexicon. She persisted in explaining it, saying it’s like “Thanks” and “Welcome” with ee’s at the end, as if I didn’t understand what she was saying. I went from gently saying “I’ve never heard that” to “People just don’t say that in America,” and I don’t think she understood. It was hilariously awkward.

For the second half of the day, we had the oldest of the students, who already knew a fair amount of English. We had them talk about what they wanted to learn, and what things about America they wanted to focus on. One of them asked us very bluntly and strangely, “What do you know about Stonehenge?” I answered bluntly, “Nothing,” and tried to move on. Some of the older girls, who are fairly athletic I guess (at least by Russian standards) asked me about ultimate and expressed interest in learning how to play.

After school we went to the under-renovation apartment of Elena Viktorovna. There, for dinner, we had the Russian equivalent of hot dogs. Russian hot dogs have a plastic skin on the outside. After you boil them, you poke the plastic, and the steam kind of forces the whole thing open. Inside is hot dog meat, except without the skin around it to make it at least nominally appetizing. Imagine just the inside of a hot dog sitting on your place, staring you in the face. It’s so pink it almost doesn’t look like food. Anyway, aside from that we had pasta too. I have discovered something on which Russians will put ketchup, but I do not. Pasta. I have yet to see any evidence that Russian people know what tomato sauce is. Instead they just use ketchup.

On the walk back to the Grandmother’s apartment, we talked a little bit about living in the city. Somehow I wanted to say squirrel, but I had no idea how to do so. Ilya and I spent a good 10 minutes trying to understand each other. How do you describe a squirrel? It looks like a rat and has a puffy tail? That’s hard to say when you don’t know how to say “rat,” “puffy,” or “tail.” Also on the walk home, I found out that the Grandmother still works at the same factory where she started working in the 1960’s. Best I can tell, they make boilers. The grandmother is an engineer there, and even though she’s on a pension, she still wants to work. Apparently living at home is too boring for her, and it’s nice to have the extra money anyways.

Anyhow, I went home and tried to make some lesson plans. My host family was anxious to make quick work of some watermelon, which I was obliged to eat. I don’t really like watermelon that much, but it’s not foul, and so in the interest of not having EVERYONE know I don’t like watermelon, I just ate it. Then to bed.