10 Weeks Down, 31 to Go!

Hello again! I've lasted yet another week here in Spain. The weeks seem to fly by, now that I am a little busier with extra classes and whatnot. This week went especially fast since it was Thanksgiving and I had a few things to prepare.

Some of you may be wondering what we did for Thanksgiving here in Spain. Well on Thursday Meagan, Melanie, Theresa and I went to the American University's Thanksgiving dinner. The abroad program run by AU includes a Thanksgiving dinner, and as alumni of the program we were invited to this years festivities.

It was a little odd, but still wonderful. It made me think of my semester and how much I loved that, but also about how somethings never change. For example, when we were on the abroad trip MariCarmen introduced us to the song Gracias a la Vida which is a Spanish song that basically just gives thanks for all the parts of life, good and bad. We sang it back in 2006 and Thursday night. The song really is fitting with Thanksgiving because, for me, the holiday is a good time to reflect on what life has brought you and to appreciate where you are in life. I can honestly say I am happy in my current situation.

Another wonderful aspect of Thursday night was that we got to take a group photo with MariCarmen. She is probably the nicest person ever and I couldn't imagine living in Spain without her support and the support of the other people connected to her. To give you an example of how wonderful she is on Thursday she spilled salad (which was dressed in oil) all over her dress. I found her in the ladies room trying to wash it off. At a time when most people would have been mortified or angry she just smiled away and we chatted. Later Melanie told me that she spent a long time talking to MC in the Mosaic office. This time included the story about the salad, but MariCarmen cheerfully told Melanie that it was OK because she got a chance to have a nice conversation with me. Talk about perspective!

We had a "traditional" American Thanksgiving on Saturday at Eimear and Blair's apartment. They were in charge of making the bird and a side and our apartment was going to bring mashed potatoes, pie, sweet potatoes and an appetizer. Melanie was responsible for the potatoes, Audrey did the sweet potatoes and appetizer and I elected to do the pie. What was I thinking? Until Friday afternoon I had never made pie crust from scratch! Luckily I had made pumpkin pie filling a few thousand times so that wouldn't be too bad.

I looked up a recipe for pie crust and got to work. It turned out alright, a little gummier than I thought pie crust was supposed to be, but hopefully no one else would know. Then it was on to the filling. I purchased the can of pumpkin puree at the American grocery store. Thankfully it came pre-spiced so I didn't have to buy several jars of spices to mix into pumpkin pie spice. I took the can opener to the can and tried for a few minutes to get it to latch on. No success. I asked Melanie for help, it stumped her too. I then went to buy a can opener.

The only ones available were the kind that punch a hole into the can, like you would use for a can of pineapple juice. I bought this kind thinking that I could just punch several holes around the top and pop the lid off. Nope. The grade of metal was too much for my cheap can opener. It punctured the evaporated milk with ease, but couldn't get to the pumpkin. So then I decided to get in any way possible. I hammered at the top with the cheap opener and finally made a hole big enough to fit the kitchen scissors in. I cut the top of the can as much as I could an scooped out the pumpkin. Next I used the evaporated milk to wash the sides of the can. After the filling was made the pie went into the oven to bake. I was nervous about our conversion from Fahrenheit to Celsius, but everything turned out fine.

The next day we piled into a cab and went to our late lunch party. When we got there the apartment had about a half dozen Spanish ladies in it. They were all very nice and excited to see what Thanksgiving was all about. One asked if there were any songs, but seemed a little disappointed when we said no. We put out appetizers and sangria and chatted in Spanish.

Next Anna, Morgaine and Fiona showed up. All three are from the UK. For Anna and Morgaine it was their first Thanksgiving. Fiona later told me that she had a roommate at university from New York, so she had participated in a Thanksgiving before. In all we had a total of 13 people, only 5 of which were from America.We squished our party into the table and dished up plates.

There was soooooo much food, but it all looked amazing. If forced to pick a favorite, I'd have to say the sweet potatoes by Audrey (i'm working on getting the link, when I do I will put it up here!). Before chowed down, we went around the table to say what we were most Thankful for. We did this in both English and Spanish.



I almost cried when one of the Spanish girls told us that she was very thankful to have been invited because she missed her family very much and she felt at home with our crowd. I had to agree with her. Thanksgiving is a holiday that I had gotten used to spending with a crowd of at least 10, but usually more and this time was no exception. Everyone at the party was just as wonderful as could be and it really felt like a family Thanksgiving.

P.S. The pie was a hit!

"Do You Cry?!"

Mondays are my longest days of the week. I mean this both literally and figuratively. Literally, I work from 9 am until 9 pm. Nine to four at school, then private lessons from 5 o'clock until 9 o'clock. Figuratively because I usually didn't do enough on Sundays to get ready for the following day. Plus, who loves Mondays? No one, that's who.

This Monday was no exception; I still had trouble mustering the motivation to leave my cozy bed and I still had to teach the extra lessons. This morning I got out of the house relatively on time and caught the 8:45 bus, which drops me off at school about 3 minutes before class. Today Eimear and I talked about how we don't really feel the need to show up 15 minutes early so we can sit around and do nothing; which is mostly true. I don't have to prepare for the day so much as mentally get ready for dealing with the children.

When I arrived at school I began my Monday routine of reading Oxford Reading Tree books with the kids. They each have a book that they take home and practice along with the CD. I've come to notice that many of the children have memorized the sounds of the CD and don't actually know what they are saying to me. I'm supposed to ask them simple questions like, "what is it about?" or "did you like the story?" to check if the understand. Based on the looks I got today one would have thought I had asked them to analyze the impact of Hemingway's interpretation of Spanish culture upon American perceptions, or something equally as difficult. Fully discussing impact of The Sun Also Rises would take a few pages to write, "did you like the book?" takes about three words ("Yes, I did" for example...).

I shouldn't make fun of the kids, but I'm starting to question the social promotion idea at my school. In high school, I was the student representative to the school board. Towards the end of my term we started to talk about advancing kids to high school who hadn't passed middle school. In general, I believe you aren't doing anyone any favors by putting them in a grade for which they are not prepared. But I think this topic gets more complicated in a bilingual school. It is possible that the kids who can't tell me what happens in a story called "Floppy's Bone" (The plot is simple; Floppy has a bone. The bone gets stolen by a bigger dog. Floppy is sad. The end) might be able to discuss complicated topics in Spanish with ease. It is not fair to keep a child back if they are only struggling in one topic; at the same time it is doesn't work for them to flounder through English class and pass their Spanish classes. If only it were possible to have the kids be grouped for each topic, not just into 4A and 4B. We could group the students together based on ability and the groups would change for each subject. I would suggest this to Eduardo, but my plan would require an overhaul of the school system which I do not think anyone wants to do...

Along with listening to stories about the various adventures of Kipper and Biff (no, I did not make the names up, and yes, they are British books.) on Mondays I work with small groups of kids. Eduardo tries to group them according to English level, but sometimes that doesn't work out. Today we worked on interviewing a partner about their television habits. The children were supposed to ask the person their name, their "favourite programme" and why, along with how often they watch, then present this information to the rest of the group. To give them an example, I told them about my mom. The paragraph went something like this "Her name is Kathy. Her favorite program is CSI. She likes it because she thinks it is interesting and exciting. She watches once a week, on Thursdays." The kids did a decent job. Across the board they have trouble adding the "s" to third person singular verbs and keeping gender ('he' vs 'she' & 'his' vs 'her') correct.

When one of my groups had finished and they were waiting in line one of the girls had a question for me. Paula shouted, in Spanish mind you, "How long has it been since you've seen your mother?" Apparently, when I told them that I asked my mother the questions over the weekend they assumed that I had brought my mom to Spain and she lives in my apartment. When I answered that I hadn't seen her in three months they at first didn't get it, until one of the other girls translated it for them. Once she knew my answer, Paula had a follow up question, "Do you cry?!" I lied and said no.

I would be lying if I said it didn't make me sad from time to time, but the trick is to focus on something other than the fact that my friends and family are far away, such as how awesome it is going to be to go home and have free refills on sodas. Also, I like to think about what a cool experience this is; not only do I get to live in one of my favorite cities on earth, but I get to impact the lives on children (hopefully in a positive way)!

9 Weeks Down 32 to Go!

Yet another week has passed here in Madrid. This week was rather uneventful, which probably accounts for the lack of posts. I went to school and to my private lessons, both of which are going pretty well.

The kids at school are still hilarious and I enjoy almost every minute with them. They do test my patience from time to time. For example, in the 4th grade we are working on talking about preferences and the lesson focuses on television programs. The kids are supposed to talk about their favorite programs and why they like them. The only problem with the lesson is that these kids get too excited over talking about television that Eduardo and I spend more time bringing them back to the lesson or reminding them to be quiet. I had small groups again with Eduardo, but it was a disaster. They would not listen, and one group was actually sent back to the main classroom. I tried to explain to them that even though we do fun activities in the other room, it is very important that we stay on task and that they listen. It seemed like they understood what I was saying, but five minutes later they would be chattering away at each other in Spanish. One group was just awful, so I sent them back. In a way I hope that I made an example of them so the other kids learn to behave well.

As for non-school activities, I don't have much time during the week but I did make time to see Tony before he leaves. His semester abroad is about over and that means I will be down a good friend, but what is one Turner's loss is the other's gain. I'm sure Jen is thrilled to have Tony back, but I would like to keep him around. It is great to have someone here outside of my roommates and other Auxiliares. Perhaps this will be just the push I need to get out and meet more people...

Thursday after work a large group of us went to dinner at my favorite Cuban restaurant. The group had a total of 8 people including both the Auxiliares from my school and our roommates, plus a friend of Eimear's and her German friend. I'm pretty sure that the restaurant was not prepared for such a large group to order actual food. They started to bring out the salads which two people had ordered, a little while later came the chicken dishes, and after that came three more plates, but after 7 dishes had come out Anna still did not have her fish. She ended up waiting nearly an hour, and the rest of us had finished eating by the time she got her food. Luckily, it seemed that no one was that put off by the experience. I think next time we should take a smaller group or just order tapas.

This week I also had coffee with my friend Meagan to talk about a trip before Christmas. We decided to head north, to Berlin. It will be rather wintery and there is the promise of soft pretzels, which is a food I have been craving lately. I think this time I will actually make it to some of the sights. When I was there before with my friend Heather we were so ill-prepared for the weather that we spent the majority of the time hanging out in the hostel or on a bus tour. We bailed on our walking tour and gave up standing in line to go to the top of the parliament building. The only successful outings we had were to a football match and to buy lots of German chocolate.

Yesterday, Audrey and I went to IKEA. It was an adventure, to say the least. It took almost an hour to get there, then there was about a 8 minute walk. We had to ask directions because the area surrounding the metro stop was just barren land with a couple of huge brick apartment buildings. It turns out we had to walk through a mall to get to the IKEA entrance. To my knowledge, this was a surprise that none of our friends who had gone before got to experience.

Once inside the mecca of efficient design I was on a mission. I needed to find a thicker blanket, new sheets and a lamp. As anyone who has ever gone to IKEA knows, you have to walk on their set path which forces you past all their designs and show rooms. While I enjoy a good show room every now and again, I really wanted to buy my stuff and go. Audrey and I had decided that we would hit the cafe at the end of our trip, and I was hoping for Swedish meatballs. We got a little lost in the bedding show area, since they had one edredón (comforter in Spanish) on display for 19.95 € but we had been told that there were 6 euro ones somewhere in IKEA. We walked around trying to find them, or someone to ask, but came up empty handed. We decided to move on to the Autoservico section because that was our best guess as to where the hide the types of stuff we were looking for.

When we got to the bottom floor we found a pile of comforters for 3.99€. Success! Our plan was to each buy two, then double up in the cover. I tried it out last night, and it worked perfectly. Also, when spring rolls back around we can take one out and have a lighter blanket. A genius idea, I think. The self-serve section of IKEA was successful. I found all the things on my list, plus an ice-cube tray that makes ice in the shape of little fishies. Don't judge, plus is was less than one euro.

Audrey and I paid then made a stop at the fast-food stand, not the full cafe, on the opposite side of the cash register. To my shock, there were no meatballs just hot dogs. Luckily, the hot dog and soda combo was only 1.5 €, plus the soda was refillable. I have to admit that I truly miss free refills on soda. That and actual Diet Coke, this Coca-Cola Light business does the job but it is less than satisfying.

After drinking our fill of soda we walked back to the metro and began the 45 minute trek home. I unpacked my goodies and washed the sheets. Next I decided I was going to go buy shoes, since my cheap ballet flats had failed me so miserably last week. I walked around my neighborhood for nearly 2 hours, but couldn't find ones I liked that much. Wait, that is a lie. I found ones that I liked, but after a few shops I knew I had brought my ability to pick out the most expensive item in the store with me from the States. Somehow, whenever I go shopping the things I want are usually the more expensive model/style/design. In my last stop I found a pretty nice pair of boots that I enjoyed, but they were 65€ (while expensive, is half the price of the other pairs I liked...). Reeling a little from the economic impact of my trip to IKEA I decided to go home and review the numbers. I think I will buy them, but I might wait until I get paid on Thursday.

This week is Thanksgiving, but I don't think my school has anything planned. The American University abroad program puts on a big group dinner on Thursday night, which I will probably end up attending. Also, Saturday afternoon Eimear is hosting a Thanksgiving lunch at her place. She and Blair, her roommate, are making a turkey and the rest of the guests are bringing sides. I will be making a pumpkin pie, since I found canned pumpkin in the American grocery store. While at IKEA, Audrey and I decided that everyone has to go into this Thanksgiving knowing that it is modified to fit what is available here. As with everything, it is the thought behind it that counts. It might taste off, but it has the makings of being a great Thanksgiving in spirit.

8 Weeks Down, 33 to Go!

We've reached the end of yet another week. I have survived beginning to teach outside classes and a run-in with glass in the street. Even though this week was a little more challenging than I would like, I'm still excited to be living and working in Madrid. Though I've been forced to take it easy these last couple of weeks I can't wait to get back out there. Once my glass extraction wound heals I want to pick up with touring the city by foot.

Yesterday, after my trip to the emergency department, Melanie and I had dinner at our local Kebab restaurant. Top-notch, I have to say. The prices were excellent and the food was delicious. We both ate and had a beverage for about 5 euro a piece. The restaurant is quite small, from what we could see. There were only about a dozen tables and the bar, but it was full of people chatting and eating. The only trouble with this place is that I can't figure out the hours, once when I was looking for it, it was closed. It is also possible that I was looking in the wrong place, since my failed attempt was at the beginning of this adventure and I didn't exactly know where to look.

Even though I was supposed to rest my foot, I had to go grocery shopping today. This involves about a two-block walk and then touring the grocery isles. When I got there, as per usual on a Saturday afternoon, there were no baskets at the entrance. Before starting my lessons I would go on Monday afternoons, but now that I'm out of the house until close to 10 o'clock this is out of the question. I think I will have to move grocery shopping to Thursday afternoons or Friday mornings. I can't take the hunt for a basket. Luckily, I found a basket near the back of the store, close to the elevator. This particular grocery store is two-stories and most of the heavy items are downstairs.

While waiting to catch the elevator I over heard a woman talking to her five-year old son in American-accented English. When her son began talking to me in Spanish I responded, but then asked the mom where they were from. She put on a fake French accent and told me that he was born in France, she was from Chicago and her husband was from Bilbao, Spain. I realize that her particular situation is a little complicated, but there was no need for the pretentious fake accent. She was American, so was I; no need to pretend otherwise. I know that Americans aren't the most loved people abroad, but when you are talking to another American it is less necessary to hide the fact that you are American. Also, the whole fake accent thing is really ridiculous. I find Madonna's fake British accent annoying, just because you live somewhere doesn't mean you automatically have that accent. I've been living in Spain for two months now and don't accent my English. I probably never will, and I especially won't put on a fake accent when talking to people in the grocery store.

After the groceries were put away I had to go to the farmacia (Pharmacy in Spanish) to get some diabetes supplies, like Humalog insulin and the needles to use the insulin pens. I showed the pharmacist the receta (prescription) that the English speaking doctor had given me, which included the pen model that I buy in the States. He didn't have that exact same model, but showed me what he did have. One was plain Humalog insulin and the other was a Humalog mix with a different long acting one, clearly not the medication I was asking about. I pointed to the correct one, which had someone else's name taped to it.

He pulled off the name and asked if I wanted anything else, I told him I also needed the needles to do the injections. Luckily for me the word for needles is actually kind of hard to pronounce. Agujas is difficult because the "g" has kind of an "h"-like sound, but not really; when combined with the "j" that actually has an h sound it just comes out so wrong when I say it. The pharmacist didn't know what I was asking about and started to read me the storage instructions for the insulin. I stopped him and explained that I needed the "things" to do the injections, which I guess he understood because he went in the back to look for something. When he came back he had a box of pen needles, also with the name of the guy who's insulin I stole taped to it, and asked if that is what I wanted. More or less it is, the needles are a little shorter than the ones I use here, but I can figure out a way to ask him for longer ones next time.

Now I am just wasting time until it is a reasonable hour to call my parents. After I talk to them I think I will go see a movie. It is the best thing I can come up with that both gets me out of the apartment but also keeps me from walking around on my foot too much.

Like I Needed an Excuse to go Shoe Shopping!

warning: this post contains kind tales of blood, the squeamish have been warned!

Yesterday when I got off the bus in Moncloa I had to jump off. The bus couldn't pull up next to the side walk, and I have short legs. This combination made it necessary for me to jump. I should have looked before I leaped because I ended up jumping on to a piece of glass. Yes, street glass teaming with germs and other things. This piece of glass went through my cheap ballet flats and into my foot. It hurt like a bitch.

I hobbled through the metro home and investigated why my foot was killing me. That is when I found the glass and blood in my shoe. I tried to pull it out with tweezers, but it was pointless. I promptly emailed my mom with my boggle. She suggested that I soak it and hope that helped it work its own way out. After 30 minutes in hot water the glass was still there. Twenty emails later my mom agreed that I should go to a doctor in the morning. I went to bed, hoping that the glass would magically jump out of my foot and I wouldn't have to explain to Spanish medical professionals that I had glass stuck in my foot.

My dream did not come true. I woke up at 11:30 and the glass was still there. I went back to bed and again woke up with glass in my foot at 2 o'clock. I decided that I was going to go to the doctor across the street because I had to hobble there, and didn't want to hobble around looking for another place if this guy was just across the street. The only flaw in my plan was that he doesn't open until 4:30. In the meantime I ate lunch, watched some Simpsons dubbed in Spanish.

When 4:30 rolled around I packed my insurance card and the list of vocabulary I thought I would need to explain myself and walked the half block to the doctor. The number of people also waiting surprised me; there were about a half dozen people in front of me. I hoped that some of them were just waiting with another person because I had to be back to meet the plumber who was going to fix our sink and hot water heater at 6 o'clock.

Finally my turn came, about 45 minutes later. I told the doctor that there was glass in my foot and that I couldn't get it out. He took a look and told me that he couldn't do anything and that I would have to go to a clinica, which I think is kind of like a mini-hospital. He wrote down what was wrong and what I needed and told me where the clinica was. I took my note and left to meet the plumber.

After the plumber left I walked the 3 blocks to the clinica. I went to the reception desk and explained that I had glass in my foot and that when I went to the doctor on my street he told me to go there, but I didn't know who to see or where to go. I showed her the paper and hoped that she would piece my explanation together with the information provided by the doctor. Not so.

She looked at me and asked if I needed and X-ray or what. It was at this point that I was beginning to loose all hope of ever getting the glass out of my foot, so I began to tear up and almost cry. I told her "No. There is a piece of glass in my foot and I can't get it out." Next she asked if I wanted to make and appointment to get it taken out or see someone right now. As nicely as I could manage I told her right now, if possible. She then entered all my information into the computer and escorted me up the stairs to the emergency guy.

I waited for him for about five minutes. When I went in he tried to speak English with me, by asking "what is your name?" and when I told him he said "ah... la americana" as if he had heard my lame attempts at explaining my situation downstairs and knew I was not Spanish. He had me lay on the table and took a look. Then he pulled out some huge tweezers and tried to pull the glass out. If that was going to work I wouldn't be on his table. When I realized I couldn't watch this whole thing go down, I layed down and closed my eyes and plugged my ears (the sound of metal tweezers on glass shards in your foot is actually quite traumatizing).

He dug around for a few minutes, which felt like forever. Finally he had the chunk of glass out. I lost a few giant drops of blood in the process and my wound was bleeding pretty profusely. I can't stand the sight of blood, especially when it is mine and not inside my body. Over the summer I had to get several blood tests done, and one time I fully passed out in the chair. Each and every time I made my mother go with me to hold my hand and distract me. The last time, when the woman had to draw several vials of blood I got light headed at the sight of the number of vials she had pulled out.

This time my mom couldn't come with me and I had to distract myself. Because the doctor doesn't speak English and my Spanish decreases relative to the amount of stress I am under there was no hope for conversation. After the extraction, he cleaned up my foot and bandaged it. Once the wound (which is about the size of a pencil eraser) was covered he asked how I was. To be honest, I was light headed and a little queasy. I answered that I was much better than when the glass was in my foot, but as soon as the sentence was over I threw up in my mouth a little. The pain, or the sight of my own blood on the floor, or the stress of the situation or possibly the combination of it all made me sick.

After I spit out my vomit and drank a little water, the really nice doctor made a little insert for my shoe out of a sponge so that I wouldn't put any pressure on it while walking home. He also gave me bandages to put on it and told me what to ask the pharmacist for to disinfect it. What sucks the most is that he told me to rest it for the weekend. So last weekend got eaten up by my cold and this one is sacrificed to the glass wound.

Next weekend I will be going shoe shopping. I want to buy better quality shoes so that I never have to go through this business again. I also just like shoes.

Speaking English Hardly Qualifies One to Teach it!

This week I began teaching side classes after school and this has forced the realization that just because I speak English on a regular basis does not mean that I am qualified to teach it. For me, English just is, I don't remember most of the rules about grammar and sentence structure I just go with what sounds right. Sometimes what sounds right is technically wrong, but I'm slowly working on that point. Lucky for me, one of the classes I teach is through Mosaic, the language school run by Maite. This means that they have a collection of books and activities that I can use, most of which explain the rational behind what is right and what is wrong.

Yesterday while I was preparing for Carlota's class I read through the directions to many activities; this was eye-opening because it was the first time in a while that I had to think about why we speak the way we do. She specifically needed to work on the words yet, already and since. I just know when to use yet or already, so it was difficult to explain how we use them. Thankfully the sheet had some examples and I could make up a few more on my own. I think Carlota understood me, but that is probably because she speaks a good amount of English. My next lesson was not as easy.

I also teach a family in their home. This family consists of a 12 year old boy, a seven year old girl and their mother. The boy has been taking English for a while, but he speaks about as well as my 4th graders here at school. The girl also takes classes in school, but since they are little kids it is mostly playing games and a little bit of vocabulary. The mom took English 20 years ago and wants to re-learn the parts she needs to travel. She told me, in Spanish, about how she has ideas but doesn't know how to express them. She also told me that when she was in NYC she went shopping and thought a shirt was on sale, but when they rang it up the mark-down wasn't included and she had no idea how to ask about that.

This is a situation I can totally understand, seeing as my Spanish is functional, but no where near my level of English. It frustrates me that I can't be as articulate in Spanish as I am in English. I fancy myself quite funny and charming in English, but in Spanish I am reduced to simple tenses and facts, not jokes. I thought about what I would do if faced with a situation like hers, and I realized that I would probably end up paying more because I don't know how to argue that point. Maybe Maribel (the mom) can teach me how in Spanish, just in case I need to claim a discount!

I plan to spend some time on Friday in the Mosaic office plotting out the course of my lessons. Since they are after school I have to run from school to the office and only have enough time to really think about that afternoon's activities. I'm not sure how many of you knew about my near-meticulous planning for Boys & Girls Club, but I had activities planned for the whole six weeks by the start of week one. They gave us an empty calendar with the spaces we had for the different hours and I filled in those boxes with games and crafts and other things. I liked having a plan, flying by the seat of my pants did occur if someone suggested a good idea or activity, but I liked to have an idea what I was going to be doing. This time I want to make photocopies of pages, for not just Monday's lesson but maybe for the rest of the month. I also want to chart out what I am going to do with Maribel and her family. When are we going to talk about certain topics and what games am I going to play with her daughter.

7 Weeks Down, 34 to Go!

Here we are again, the end of the week update. Though I feel that I have posted on the two main events of this week I will uphold the tradition.

I still wish I were home in the States for this time of year. Between the election and the upcoming holidays it feels strange to be so far from home. In typical lazy American style, I would love to turn on CNN and passively absorb the latest on the Obama Administration, but I can't. I have to use my brain and read things. I also would just love to be surrounded by people who share me excitement. Oh well, I guess when I am asked in 20 years, "where were you when Obama was elected?" I will have a pretty sweet answer.

Another thing driving my desire to be home this week was the British teachers. Yesterday we had a big good-bye lunch/party for them at the school. Over plates of ham and olives they asked how long I would be working at the school, when I told them 'til the end of the year, without skipping a beat, they asked if I was going back to the States for Christmas. I had to say "No, I will be here until the end of June" and then accept their looks of pity. I think if people hadn't kept asking me about going home it wouldn't be on my mind so much. I am having a great time here, but when you are constantly reminded that it is difficult to be far from home over the holidays you can't help but agree.

Aside from causing me a little bit of homesickness, the British teachers were quite wonderful. After we moved on from my being stranded here, we talked about the school and how warm everyone was towards them. It is true, the people at our school are pretty fabulous. They provided a vast spread of food for the lunch, they gave the teachers each lithographs of famous streets in Madrid and sang them a good-bye song that brought tears to both British and Spanish eyes. In the matter of one week the six British teachers became an extension of the Rosa Luxemburgo family. Towards the end the other Auxiliares and I joked about what our good-bye would be like, to be honest I'm sure there will be lots of crying and probably more wine.

I spent all of Saturday in my bed. I have some mystery cold that has morphed from simple sinus congestion to a sore throat, to a cough and congestion and now we are just at the cough stage. On Thursday, I went to the doctor across the street, not the English speaking one I went to about insulin. My visit with him lasted all of a minute. It was almost closing time, so I think he was in a a hurry. Before I could tell him what was wrong I started to cough. He pulled out the stethoscope and took a quick listen. Then he asked if I had a fever, to which I told him "maybe, but I don't know" (since I don't have a thermometer here I really couldn't say for sure). After this brief conversation he prescribed two pills and sent me on my way.

I, of course, did some internet research and found that he had given me Amoxicillin and an OTC pain/fever medication in the Tylenol family. I'm not one to rely on pills, but in this case I have seen some improvement in the past 2 days of use. If that is the pills or the fact that I have been sick for about a week, I can't say. I just need this to go away.

Sí Se Puede

Yesterday, November 4th 2008, the American people loudly and clearly decided it is time for change. When I woke up on November 4th here in Madrid, my friends and family were either sleeping or hadn't even gone to bed yet. Aside from my roommates, I woke up feeling a little isolated about the election. Yes, there was plenty of hype on television and an article in the daily newspapers handed out at metro stations, but it didn't carry the same sense of excitement one probably found in the US air.

I boarded the metro, but no one else seemed to know just how important yesterday was. The people around me flipped past stories about Obama and McCain with the same care that they checked the scores of previous football matches. Part of me really wanted to stop them and make them read the simple article about the election, to me they needed to know just how monumental this day was going to be. But I restrained myself, and let them continue on as they were; the Spanish news was going to have several hours of programing devoted to the election, they would find out soon enough.

When I got to school many of the kids were excited for me. As I told you before, the 4th grade supports Obama and knows that I voted for him. When I arrived, one of the kids asked if I flew home to vote. As much as I wanted to be home for this one, I couldn't fly home so I tried to explain about absentee voting. The simplest way I could find to explain it was that I was sent a letter asking who I wanted to be president and I sent them one back telling them I wanted Obama. This was interpreted as me sending Barack a personal letter of support and that was my way of voting. I tried to correct them and re-explained that the people in charge of the elections sent me the letter and I sent them one back; I'm pretty sure Ines still thinks Barack and I are pen-pals. Oh well.

Throughout the day we had several short conversations about the election. Many of the teachers, both Spanish and British, asked us about it and expressed their support for Obama. Certainly, on one level they are deeply interested in the politics and policies of the United States, but part of me couldn't help thinking that they were just reflecting my own personal excitement. I wonder if they had not had American Auxiliares in their school if these individuals would have been as excited. Perhaps they would have followed the news stories in their free time, but I don't know if there would have been so much discussion. It is hard to escape the influence that the United States has on world politics. Like it or not, we have the power and ability to affect almost any part of the globe. The more I thought at about individual Spanish reactions and collective news coverage the greater our role in the world appeared.

Soon it was time to go home. As we left everyone wished me luck and that my candidate would win. I, of course, thanked them but secretly hoped that all this talk of Obama's victory hadn't jinxed anything. Four years ago I was convinced that the American public couldn't be dumb enough to vote for Bush again; four years ago I was wrong. This is why I approached election season with far more caution than last time. This time I prefaced conversations with words like "hopefully" and "if" rather than last time, when I used words like "when."

Upon arrival home I took a nap in preparation for a long night of election results. Because of the time difference, the first set of election results wouldn't reach Madrid until about 2 o'clock in the morning. The West Coast results wouldn't come in until 5 am. To watch these results come in Tony, Audrey, Eimear, Blair and I went to the Democrats Abroad party in the Bellas Artes center. We pre-bought our tickets over the weekend for 10 euros. I admit, I got a little dressed up, wanting my outfit to reflect the importance of this evening. This was not casual Friday, everyday wear was out of place at a party to celebrate a (peaceful) political revolution. Once gussied-up, Tony and I shared some wine and left with Audrey for the fiesta.

When we arrived at Bellas Artes there was a line well down the block of people waiting to get in. The rumor was that people had been in line for over an hour and a half and no one had been let inside during that time. We continued to wait, and wait. Then we waited some more. Eventually it became obvious that our very American line was a bust and that we would have to crowd the door.

While standing in line it occurred to me that they should have had a line for the Americans and one for everyone else. In my opinion it was my election, not theirs. Therefore they should have to wait and see if there is enough space for them to join our party. For this one night I wanted it to matter that I was an American, and the only way that was going to happen was for them to recognize that many of the Spanish people in line were in line because it was a good party, not because the results of this election were crucial to the rest of their lives. Please don't get me wrong, many of the Spaniards and other various Europeans in line did know about American politics, but more as a passing interest the same way that some people are fans of soccer or British history. They knew the names and lots of information about the parties, but they could not feel the importance of this moment the same way that the US citizens in line felt it. Deep in our bones, we knew this was a make or break moment for our nation.

Finally, after an over hour of waiting in a pathetic attempt at a line, our gang line jumped and joined the crowd gathering by the door. People chanted about getting their money back, and about opening the doors. When the time came to open the doors the rush of people actually carried me forward. There were times when I was not standing by my own power, but rather by the force of people behind me propping me up against those waiting in front of me. We got inside, and found the place was not crowded at all. Several bars dotted the floor and served decently priced drinks to the thirsty crowd. Since I had to be at work in less than 8 hours, I decided not to drink this night. In hindsight, I'm pretty sure the staff at my school would understand a hangover after such an pivotal night.

This is where my frustration with many of the non-US citizens inside the party grew. Not only had they taken up space in the lines, but they were there not to watch the results or participate in a meaningful way, but rather to get drunk and take pictures with a person in a Sarah Palin costume. Yes, I did take one photo of Tony under the red, white and blue balloon arch, but the point of us being there was supposed to be to watch our election results with people (from our country) who really cared about the outcome. For me, it was supposed to be a gathering of like-minded people who wanted to celebrate the new direction the United States was headed. I recognize that I may be taking this party a little too seriously, but there were times when I felt that our election wasn't being taken seriously, rather it was a venue for some to party on a Tuesday night and buy fairly cheap beers.

Again, I am probably misrepresenting the situation by focusing on those who annoyed me. In truth there were many people who genuinely were interested in watching the results. When the announcement that Obama had taken the battleground state of Pennsylvania came in, Tony and I were in a room where you could also hear the CNN commentary, rather than just watch it on a giant screen. This room was smaller, and packed with people. We watched and waited, and once it was projected that he had those electoral votes the room erupted in cheers.

I stayed late enough to watch two time zones report, but by 3 am I had to go home. When I came home I opened CNN.com and saw their interactive electoral college map. By 3 am in Madrid, Obama only needed to win Washington, Oregon, California and Hawaii to win. I went to bed feeling secure in my country's future. He clearly had this in the bag and finally things were going to turn around.

When I woke up, 4 hours later, I rechecked CNN.com, the headline read "Change has come to America" accompanied by a photo of Barack and Michelle Obama. I was thrilled. I went out into the living room and crossed paths with Melanie. We did a very quiet victory dance, full of fist pumping. I'm sure if Audrey had been awake there would have been apartment wide cheering, but we didn't want to wake her. There was one person, however, who I did want to wake. When it is 7:45 am here, it is 10:45 pm in Forest Grove, where my mom is. I had to call her, I needed to talk to someone about what was happening there.

She told me that the election was pretty much called by the time Oregon polls closed and that both Barack Obama and John McCain had given very nice speeches. I didn't have time to google the speeches, so that would have to wait. I finished getting ready and left for school.

Again, the commute to school was a lonely experience. My fellow passengers did not share my enthusiasm for what had happened the night before. This time, Obama's projected victory was on the fronts of the metro newspapers. I managed to snag one off of a seat, hoping to collect the various ones passed out at the Moncola bus terminal. Such was not the case; when I left the bus terminal there were no papers. None. Usually there are four different publications competing for riders attention, but this time you couldn't find a paper if you tried, and I did. I began to wonder if the Spaniards had gobbled up the keepsakes the same way I'm sure copies of the New York Times and Washington Post will be tucked away in acid-free paper for future generations.

When I got on the bus, with only my scavenged copy of 20 Minutos, I ran into Laura, the first grade teacher at my school. She and I were equally excited. She spent several years living in Oakland, so she is familiar with US politics, but what struck me about our conversation was that she felt this was the kind of change not only needed by the US but also the world. The world. Again we are back to the role the United States has in international affairs. Our election wasn't just a turning point for us, but rather one for the rest of the world. I hope that rather than the Bush method of diplomacy, or rather pushing everyone around, Obama can deliver on the promise of rebuilding our place in the international area on a foundation of respect.

At school the teachers, both Spanish and British, congratulated Eimear and me. One lovely woman, Amparo, came up and gave us two kisses, one on each cheek, almost like it was our birthday. They called felicitaciones (congratulations in Spanish) and told us how happy they were for us. Again, it seemed like their excitement was a reflection of ours. But in the end that doesn't matter. What matters is that these people were excited and that they knew, on some level, just how important yesterday was.

After school, I came home to watch those aforementioned speeches on my computer. Luckily they were not hard to find. I watched the Obama one first and only a few minutes in I began to cry. Hearing his victory speech was the moment when this whole process became real again. When he spoke of how he was going to govern and reach out to those who did not vote for him it sank in that things are going to change, and they will be different when I get home. As he closed his speech with a few rounds of "Yes We Can" it hit me that it is true.

I am a citizen of a country where anything is possible. In the 2000 and the 2004 elections a rich white guy with family money and corrupt deals won. Our country was run by liars and cheaters, but the people of America would not stand for it anymore. What is depressing is how bad things had to get before we stood our ground, but when we did it was monumental. We wanted change, and we got change. Change from the status quo and change from our own defeatist attitudes.

For today, and the next couple of days I am going to revel in that fact. I know there are still things wrong with our country, ie Proposition 8 in California, for right now, in this moment, I am choosing to focus on what is right in our country.

The British are Coming! The British are Coming!

I couldn't help myself. Today six teachers from our twin school in Worksop, England, began a week long visit to our school. Oddly enough, when I missed the 8:30 bus I ended up in the right place at the right time. While sitting on the 8:45 bus, I overheard a troop of Brits wondering if they were on the right bus. Naturally, I asked where they were from, and when they said England I asked if they were going to Rosa Luxemburgo. The leader of the group, John, said yes. Of course I told him I worked there and that they were on the right bus. We chatted for the 15 minute bus ride, mostly about getting in last night and the need to practice language in a country where it is spoken.

When we arrived at school Eduardo came to meet the English teachers and told me to take the 4A class inside, and that I would have them alone for the morning. The morning chunk of time is two solid hours. We started by talking about their weekends and then we went over what day was it. I had the brilliant idea to ask them what day tomorrow is. They responded "Tomorrow is Tuesday, the 4th of November 2008," which is correct. When I told them it was a very important day for me they asked if it was my birthday, which it is not. Next they asked if it was my Saint Day, which I don't really know when/if I have one, so I said no. Then they were lost.

I explained that tomorrow the citizens of the United States are going to select a new president, and this is very exciting for me. They began to chatter about Obama and asked which candidate I wanted to win. Even though it is kind of taboo to ask someone outright, "who did you vote for?" I answered them, Obama. This excited the kids to no end, they really seem to like him. SO, for what it is worth, Barack Obama has the support of the 4th grade class of Rosa Luxemburgo.

After our discussion of the election, we had to prepare questions to ask the British teachers when they came to visit. We went through and made a list of 21 questions. Many of them were very simple, so I tried very hard to get them to ask questions that would require more than a one word answer, like when they said "What is your birthday?" I offered "How do you celebrate your birthday in England?" as a follow-up question. These kids are smart, I just don't think they've had a chance to think very hard. Most of what they do is memorization, for example when you ask them how they are they respond like little robots with "I am fine, thank you. How are you?" To this I like to answer with various things, from great to super to tired. They need to know it is acceptable to be something other than fine.

Oddly enough, the afternoon was a repeat of the morning, just with group 4B. I picked them up from the playground. They asked where Eduardo was. I explained about the British teachers. We talked about the election, and they too support Obama. They quizzed one of the British teachers about herself and her class. Then it was time to go home.

For the most part, the kids behaved very well, but at times they were trying to play Sink the Sub. The only flaw in their plan was that I am not a sub, I'm there all the time and I know the rules. I think I had them under control most of the time, but I see where Eduardo is coming from when he gets angry. It felt like any pause in action, such as time for me to call on someone new, they would erupt in chatter, then take several minutes to get back to normal. This made correcting the two workbook activities really difficult. At the end of they day, I kind of stretched the truth and told Eduardo that they were mostly well behaved. I know he would be much harder on them than was really necessary, and I think I got the point across how that they need to behave, even if he isn't in class.

Tomorrow I have class with Elena and one of the Brits. I don't really know what I will be doing, but I know that afterwards Tony, Audrey, Eimear, Blair and I will be going to a party thrown by the Overseas Branch of the Democratic Party. This should be interesting, expect a post about it!

6 Weeks Down, 35 to Go!

Well, I must first apologize for not posting anything after my Week 5 update. I don't have an excuse, I just got a little lazy. Don't fear, this post will be action-packed, and hopefully make up for my laziness earlier in the week.

First we'll talk about school. Monday I spent in Eduardo's class with the 4th graders. I don't remember any funny stories from that day, probably because I spent the whole time going over what the kids did during the weekend and reading Oxford Reading Tree books with the kids. They are these little books about some kids who have a magic key that takes them on adventures. Some of the kids read really well, others need lots of help. What I have noticed as a common problem is the pronunciation of past tense verbs, liked becomes like-ed, with a clear difference in syllables and not the smoothness we native English speakers have.

Tuesday was a much more challenging day. I was supposed to read one of the 3rd grade classes a story about feelings. As they finished a work sheet they were supposed to come sit on the floor and listen. This turned into chaos. Four of the boys were pushing, shoving and climbing all over each other, a few of the girls were just chatting in the back and few of them were listening. A few times I closed the book and told then that it was time to listen and if they weren't ready to listen they could go back to their desks. This worked for all of 3 pages, when I would repeat the whole speech. When I was close to finishing the book things had gone too far, so I closed it and told them I would wait for the group to be quiet. In a few minutes I knew that wasn't going to happen. While we were waiting one of the nicest, most quiet and generally good kids in the class, Miguel, asked if he could go back to his seat. Like me, he had had enough of their shenanigans. After Miguel left, I got up and gave the book back the Elena. I told her they weren't ready to listen and she made them sit in their desks and practice being quiet for the last 10 minutes of class.

On Wednesday I learned that one of my favorites, Alejandro, had learned and English phrase, "one moment, please" and he likes to use it every chance he gets. Like when I ask him to sit down his response is "one moment, please" or if i tell him it is time to work on the excercises he says "one moment, please." While cute, this new phrase is really quite annoying. It annoys me because the one phrase he uses in English is one to blow me off. I can't fault the kid for using English, but I do have to tell him, "No, now,"

While "one moment, please" is annoying it wasn't near as shocking as what Victor said to me this week. Victor is very low functioning in English. Every time I come over to help him with the exercises he looks at me and says "No entiendo ninguna palabra" ("I don't understand a single word" in Spanish). On this particular day I was walking around the class, because some of the bad kids in the back need a teacher presence in order to behave, when I passed by Victor's desk he was trying to shout a question to Elena. Very simply I told him to be quiet and listen, to which he retorted "No. Be quiet, you!" What I think he was going for was "No, you be quiet" which sounds much nicer than what he actually said. Shocking, right? The one time the kid says anything in English he is basically telling me to shut up. What the hell?

On Thursday Eimear, Anna and I put on a Halloween production of Hansel and Gretel. (I think one of the teachers took pictures, if so I will try to get them emailed to me and posted...) We were told about the play last week, but then also assigned several other tasks to complete so the play kept getting pushed back. Finally, on Wednesday we made a script and assigned characters, I was Hansel. Thursday morning we arrived an hour before our first group and made a little set. We painted windows and a door on to some butcher paper and taped them to the walls on a miniature stage. We practiced once and were trying for a second run through when the first group came in. We put on our production and it lasted less than 10 minutes. The kids heckled us yelling "Muy corto! Muy corto!" meaning "very short" in Spanish. After this epic failure we tried to improvise ways to drag our little play out. We ended up with a solid 10 minutes or play but still felt it was lacking.

When we went to have coffee/brunch, we talked with Elena and she offered us her CD with Halloween songs on it. She suggested that we play the songs and have the kids dance and sing along. So for the second and third shows we played the CD and had the kids sing along first. This worked! Between the singing/dancing and our play it was the 20 minutes we had promised Eduardo. Elena is really a wonderful teacher, she dressed up as a witch for Halloween because she was using the holiday as an excuse for them to practice order of doing things. They made a potion in class with directions using words like first, next, then and finally. She also had a skeleton costume for when the kids sang the skeleton song that went over the parts of the body. I think she is just great.

Yesterday was actually the end of week 6, but I never got around to posting. The weather the last couple of days has been kind of a bummer. It reminds me of Oregon in February. Rainy, cold, cloudy and just gray all the time. Booooo! I spent most of yesterday hanging out in my bed since I think the weather has given me a head cold. Damn wet weather, I thought I left that in Oregon!!!

I also went to see an English speaking doctor about getting more insulin. Before I left the insurance company wouldn't cover a 3 month vacation supply because we were changing companies in one month. When I had asked around the internet groups people said that their parents had just shipped medicines to them without any problem. When Mom went to ship my November supplies UPS, FedEx and the US Mail all told her they couldn't ship the package without an official letter from the Ministry of Health. Thus began me quest for Spanish insulin. A quest that was successful! Luckily in the past few decades insulins have globalized, so just the same way you can buy a Venti white chocolate mocha late at Starbucks in both DC and Madrid, you can also buy U-100 Humalog and Lantus insulins in the States and in Europe (Europe used to do U-40 formulas of other brands... but that is a tangent no one wants to read).

I'm not sure what the rest of the weekend holds. I think it all depends on how long this cold decides to settle in my sinuses. Hopefully I can rest today and do something this evening!