1st Day of School. I had scribbled this and saved it as a draft. Finally posting it.
Oh, the stress. And oh, the glory. The first day of school was a mind-boggling swirl of new names and faces. The students piled in and out and I began to make some sense of the task ahead. The task? Well, it seems to become more complex as the hours fly past. Quite simply, the situation I'm in is unlike any other I've faced.
Forget that I'm fresh in a new country that I don't understand and I've no handle on the language. Just consider the kids. They are smart. Wicked smart. They've travelled the globe and they speak multiple languages. Everyone speaks at least two, and a couple speak five. Yes: five. They are savvy about politics and international affairs. They have strong opinions and are vocal about them. It's awesome. And I can't stop myself from marveling at their brilliance.
Of course I have been in a very different world. My prior students were oh-so-opposite. They were disadvantaged and struggled to perform at grade-level. They appeared to loathe the labor of school and, in some cases, refused to comply with standard school procedures. I found myself remediating and remediating--trying to find a place from which the instruction could launch. With grade niners I repeatedly explained noun, verb, and adjective.
And now? Now all is upside down...wonderfully so.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
No More Drizzle in Brazizzal
Aaaaahhh, the rain has broken. Today the sky was blue and there was nary a cloud to block the sun. Temperatures are rising and it should be short sleeve weather by the end of the week.
Another day of planning, hanging out with the teacher folk, and figuring it all out. Thinking back on the past three weeks--so much has happened. One of the not-so-fun parts of a new country is the administrative circus that must be endured. Fortunately, the indomitable Alessandra has been there every step of the way to help me and the rest of the new people gather all the necessary documents required of a new resident. Endless cab rides to various offices around Porto Alegre provided many moments of fun, frustration, and ultimate victory over red tape and reluctant government officials.
Indeed, Alessandra has been there from the beginning. It was she and Mario (another jewel from the school) who greeted me and another new teacher at the airport as we stepped off the plane into this new world. They held signs with our names and welcomed us with hugs and smiles. We quickly hopped into a cab and it was off to my new apartment. As luck would have it, I ended up in the Bom Fim neighborhood. Very cool. Very central and easy to get anywhere in the city. Many great shops, eateries, and parks within walking distance. The highlight being an organic fruit and veggie farmers market every Saturday at a nearby park.
The hospitality was evident from the beginning. My apartment has two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and is fully furnished with all the basic necessities: bedding, towels, tv, furniture, kitchenware, etc. They even went out of their way to stock the fridge and pantry with some basic food items. Unreal. It's not swanky, but it's everything a body needs. I was beaming and in awe of this new life that had been laid out before me.
From there it only got better. It seems that everyone who is here really wants to be here. And the bosses at the school are just as concerned that we fall in love with Brazil as they are that we teach our little arses off. There is no doubt that we must perform as teaching professionals, but there is an understanding that we are here for the treasures that can only be found if you're willing to leave everything you know behind and settle yourself somewhere that is completely foreign and previously unimaginable.
So we went as a group on a walking tour of the city. We took a bus tour. We were taken out for one of the most memorable meals of my life: we went for churrasco. This truly has to be experienced to be believed. Basically, you sit down at a table and a team of men swoop upon you offering the freshest cuts of myriad meats on big steel spikes. All delicious and all in large supply. Each diner is given a card. Green on one side and red on the other. When you need a break, simply flip the card to red. I wasn't quick enough on the draw and was soon overcome with meat meat meat. Oh, there is a salad bar. And it's great. But the main attraction is the cuts.
We also toured the public market downtown and had a tutorial on how to make and enjoy chimarrao, an herbal tea like yerba mate that is quintessentially Guacho. Then it was on to a sampling of cachaca, a sugar cane liquor that is the tasty ingredient in caipirinha. A full and unforgettable day.
Another day of planning, hanging out with the teacher folk, and figuring it all out. Thinking back on the past three weeks--so much has happened. One of the not-so-fun parts of a new country is the administrative circus that must be endured. Fortunately, the indomitable Alessandra has been there every step of the way to help me and the rest of the new people gather all the necessary documents required of a new resident. Endless cab rides to various offices around Porto Alegre provided many moments of fun, frustration, and ultimate victory over red tape and reluctant government officials.
Indeed, Alessandra has been there from the beginning. It was she and Mario (another jewel from the school) who greeted me and another new teacher at the airport as we stepped off the plane into this new world. They held signs with our names and welcomed us with hugs and smiles. We quickly hopped into a cab and it was off to my new apartment. As luck would have it, I ended up in the Bom Fim neighborhood. Very cool. Very central and easy to get anywhere in the city. Many great shops, eateries, and parks within walking distance. The highlight being an organic fruit and veggie farmers market every Saturday at a nearby park.
The hospitality was evident from the beginning. My apartment has two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and is fully furnished with all the basic necessities: bedding, towels, tv, furniture, kitchenware, etc. They even went out of their way to stock the fridge and pantry with some basic food items. Unreal. It's not swanky, but it's everything a body needs. I was beaming and in awe of this new life that had been laid out before me.
From there it only got better. It seems that everyone who is here really wants to be here. And the bosses at the school are just as concerned that we fall in love with Brazil as they are that we teach our little arses off. There is no doubt that we must perform as teaching professionals, but there is an understanding that we are here for the treasures that can only be found if you're willing to leave everything you know behind and settle yourself somewhere that is completely foreign and previously unimaginable.
So we went as a group on a walking tour of the city. We took a bus tour. We were taken out for one of the most memorable meals of my life: we went for churrasco. This truly has to be experienced to be believed. Basically, you sit down at a table and a team of men swoop upon you offering the freshest cuts of myriad meats on big steel spikes. All delicious and all in large supply. Each diner is given a card. Green on one side and red on the other. When you need a break, simply flip the card to red. I wasn't quick enough on the draw and was soon overcome with meat meat meat. Oh, there is a salad bar. And it's great. But the main attraction is the cuts.
We also toured the public market downtown and had a tutorial on how to make and enjoy chimarrao, an herbal tea like yerba mate that is quintessentially Guacho. Then it was on to a sampling of cachaca, a sugar cane liquor that is the tasty ingredient in caipirinha. A full and unforgettable day.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Drizzle
Sunday afternoon. The day thus far has been spent huddled in blankets in the confines of my bedroom, finishing a Steinbeck novel while the morning slipped well into the afternoon. A persistent rain has squelched what little motivation may have resided in my bones. Indeed, the rain has been here for a couple days and it shows no sign of stopping.
Looking out my window I can see the collection of buildings that comprise this corner of Porto Alegre. The ceiling of sky hangs low. Mist, fog, moisture. A curtain of rain blocks my passage into the outside world.
There is no food in the house, save for some bananas and some kind of corn-chip-snack that has already been consumed. So eventually I must break out, lest the hunger turn my thoughts sour on this perfectly melancholy day.
For today marks the end of the honeymoon period. At least that is what the literature says. When arriving in a new country one tends to feel a magnificent rush as all the new sights, sounds, and smells seep in. There is no helping the awe as literally everything is new. Eventually this gives way and subsides as the reality sets in. With all the new scenery comes new responsibility, new language, and new routines to be carved out.
This is only my third time abroad. And only my second time to live abroad for an extended period. But past experience has given me a reference point for this waning sense of wonderment.
To be sure, Brazil has been most all that I had hoped it would be thus far. That is to say the city is bold and rolling with hills and contrasting architecture. The food is meaty, plentiful, and savory. The people are active, engaging, and imbued with a satisfaction that life is all that it should be. And music seems to be available any time one cares to hear it.
Of course, this is what I see through new eyes. I've been here less than three weeks and much remains a mystery.
After scouring the city for anything open--it is Fathers Day (and Sunday)--I find that little is open. Eventually Jenn and I stroll in to Bar do Beto and happily settle into our regular seats. We've progressed beyond the hot sandwich selection and enjoy a hearty helping of meat and veggies. When one eats only one meal in a day...it pays to make it count. We stuff ourselves with food, drink, and conversation. What are we doing here? Why Porto Alegre? Why don't we know the language better than beyond "Thank you" and "I don't speak Portuguese?"
There are certainly lessons to be learned between people who clearly enjoy each other but clearly can't communicate better than say...infants? Maybe that's an exaggeration. But when one relies on body language and hand signals to express affection and approval...where are you, really? You are back in a time of basic and fundamental communication. You are doomed to keep all of your complex thoughts to yourself and simply grin. And laugh. And enjoy. Because where are your complex thoughts getting you, anyway? Onto the psychiatrist's couch? Into a web of self-involved importance? Bah. You are just another cell working your way through the muck. If you're lucky, you may bump into like-minded cells who don't mind it when you must refer to your pocket dictionary to say, "That was delicious." If you're really lucky, that cell will simply nod, and take pleasure in your effort and humility, and be grinning before you can even utter the words.
Looking out my window I can see the collection of buildings that comprise this corner of Porto Alegre. The ceiling of sky hangs low. Mist, fog, moisture. A curtain of rain blocks my passage into the outside world.
There is no food in the house, save for some bananas and some kind of corn-chip-snack that has already been consumed. So eventually I must break out, lest the hunger turn my thoughts sour on this perfectly melancholy day.
For today marks the end of the honeymoon period. At least that is what the literature says. When arriving in a new country one tends to feel a magnificent rush as all the new sights, sounds, and smells seep in. There is no helping the awe as literally everything is new. Eventually this gives way and subsides as the reality sets in. With all the new scenery comes new responsibility, new language, and new routines to be carved out.
This is only my third time abroad. And only my second time to live abroad for an extended period. But past experience has given me a reference point for this waning sense of wonderment.
To be sure, Brazil has been most all that I had hoped it would be thus far. That is to say the city is bold and rolling with hills and contrasting architecture. The food is meaty, plentiful, and savory. The people are active, engaging, and imbued with a satisfaction that life is all that it should be. And music seems to be available any time one cares to hear it.
Of course, this is what I see through new eyes. I've been here less than three weeks and much remains a mystery.
After scouring the city for anything open--it is Fathers Day (and Sunday)--I find that little is open. Eventually Jenn and I stroll in to Bar do Beto and happily settle into our regular seats. We've progressed beyond the hot sandwich selection and enjoy a hearty helping of meat and veggies. When one eats only one meal in a day...it pays to make it count. We stuff ourselves with food, drink, and conversation. What are we doing here? Why Porto Alegre? Why don't we know the language better than beyond "Thank you" and "I don't speak Portuguese?"
There are certainly lessons to be learned between people who clearly enjoy each other but clearly can't communicate better than say...infants? Maybe that's an exaggeration. But when one relies on body language and hand signals to express affection and approval...where are you, really? You are back in a time of basic and fundamental communication. You are doomed to keep all of your complex thoughts to yourself and simply grin. And laugh. And enjoy. Because where are your complex thoughts getting you, anyway? Onto the psychiatrist's couch? Into a web of self-involved importance? Bah. You are just another cell working your way through the muck. If you're lucky, you may bump into like-minded cells who don't mind it when you must refer to your pocket dictionary to say, "That was delicious." If you're really lucky, that cell will simply nod, and take pleasure in your effort and humility, and be grinning before you can even utter the words.
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