matching tracksuits

I am thinking of those now waiting to leave for Poland to be group XIII. At this point last year, nothing was really firm (I think), but I was already sure that I would be leaving in May or June. It is probably too soon for anyone (including staff) to know all that much. Still, someone must surely get as excited as I did when I suddenly found myself pacing the hall, trying to imagine what live in PC would be like.

Now that I am here and settled, I have difficulty remembering what the waiting and uncertainty were like. And I certainly have trouble trying to imagine what my return will be like.

Lately I’ve been particularly pleased with my life in Lipnica. I am comfortable here, for a number of reasons: I feel much more confident in my teaching. I also feel much better about my Polish, and I think these two factors contribute the most to my present contentment. I enjoy what I do, and I have reason to believe that I do it well; and I do not feel as challenged by my environment. Other factors are surely my friends. I am not lonely in the way that I was when I first got to Lipnica. Lastly, I am just generally settled in, with a routine and a degree of organized regularity: I know what’s going on.

This has been the nicest day I’ve had in a very long time. Out of the blue I had this splendid day. I knew my lessons would go well but so did everything else.

I’ll begin with the lessons. In IB I did an exercise with can/can’t. I wrote fifteen jobs/occupations on the board and asked, “What can a pilot do? A dancer?” Then everyone got a card with one of the jobs on it. They had to find out who had the other jobs by asking, “Can you dance? Can you fly a plane?” To end the lesson everyone had to tell one thing s/he learned: “I know Sylwia (actually there’s no Sylwia in IB, but oh well) is a pianist because she can play the piano.” It went rather well because almost everyone was busy for the whole time.

The lesson for IA, though, was even better. It is the best lesson I’ve come up with thus far. I prepared a word search with irregular verbs in the past tense. Once they found the verb (“gave” for instance) they took a small slip of paper I’d given them and wrote the base form on it (“give” in this case, of course). They wrote each base form on a separate sheet, and I gave them about twenty to twenty-five minutes to work on the puzzle. After that they took the verb slips and got in groups of three or four and played a game. Each player, one at a time, put a verb slip on the table and challenged anyone at the table. The challenged student had to say the irregular past tense of the verb and write it on the slip. If it was right, s/he got the slip; if wrong and the challenger corrected, s/he got the slip; if neither noticed and and a third player noticed it was wrong, s/he got the slip. Most slips=winner. It went perfectly. And they loved it.

After lunch, I went on my walk. And it was very relaxing and rewarding. I took about ten pictures, mostly (maybe exclusively, but I can’t remember) of children playing. I found a group of boys from sixth class (and Piotrek from eighth class) who were sledding and I took several shots of them. Then I went for one run. They were flying down a short but steep hill then gliding onto the frozen stream. I made it to the stream but for a moment feard I wouldn’t make it back–the ice cracked and moaned under me. One of the boys showed me the safest path and I was very thankful to make it back to solid ground.

I also finally got some shots of the sled-strollers that people use to haul kids on. It was Beata (IA) and her niece Claudia (Klaudia po polsku, chyba). Klaudia was wrapped like a mummy with only her face showing. She made some gurgling sounds at me as I took the pictures.

I felt more comfortable taking pictures today. The more I do it the less conspicuous I feel. Perhaps by summer (or even spring) I’ll have done it enough that everyone pretty much ignores me.

Taking pictures of kids is particularly enjoyable. At first they act and pose for me, but then they ignore me and I can get the shots I am really looking for. I’ve a feeling I”ll take pictures of kids more than anything else.

I was thinking about IIB today and I came up with a strategy to get to Zbeszek. I’m going to ask him to teach me to play ping pong. Or at least try. Perhaps that way, while spending non-academic time with him, I can get to know him on a more personal level, and this should help in class too.l

I had a wonderful afternoon. To begin with, I repeated my performance in IIB. I walked out feeling that I had taught them a little, and I left (most importantly) with my sanity.

It was glorious and so very sunny this afternoon, so I took my camera and a roll of twenty-four and went for a walk, talking all twenty-four pictures in the process. I took a shot of chickens that I can’t wait to see, as well as one of a little boy struggling to sky.

I encountered Adam M. from VI as I was heading home. Gdzie byłeś? he asked, and I noticed that he had used the familiar voice. That I noticed was a little surprising. And once I realized it, I didn’t know what to do. “Pan” is more appropriate in the classroom, but I am pleased that he felt comfortable enough with me to use the familiar form. I knew he wasn’t testing me to see my reaction (like someone from II might); he probably did it without thinking.

The other day–yesterday, I guess–Danuta made an interesting request. “Make them take off their coats in IIB,” she asked.

I asked her why.

“Because it looks stupid!” she replied, as if that was the obvious answer.

I told her, “Look, I don’t care if they look stupid or not.”

“Well, you’re responsible for how the class and classroom look, and if the director comes in and sees it like that, he’ll talk to you about it.”

It is just that kind of arbitrary exercise of power (abuse, rather than exercise) that pisses kids off, and rightfully so. I don’t care what the kids look like; it’s not my concern as long as it’s not disrupting the class.

“They don’t think about the lesson when they have their coats on,” she contended, as if taking their coats off would be a magic switch that gets their minds on the lesson. if they’re thinking about going home with their coats on, they’ll be thinking about going home while not wearing their coats. It’s a trivial matter, and it is only disruptive if you let it be.

This is another illustration of the fact that Danuta wants only their undivided attention. She is never going to get it, and neither is any other teacher. The only thing she can do is accept that and work within that limitation. No teacher ever has the attention of the whole class; Danuta is just really sensitive concerning IIB

Well, the site visit was a success. No surprises at all. I almost managed to keep the bike under wraps. Luigi took a look in my storage room after saying, “I’ve got to see this. May I?” The door was open for all of one second before he closed it and said, “Sorry! Sorry!” I assumed as long as Marcin was ignorant of the fact that all was well. Should anything happen he could rightfully and honestly say, “I didn’t know.” But as we were taking Danuta home – the final minutes! – she said, “Gary really likes riding his bike up here . . .” I could have killed her. Looking in the rearview mirror, Luigi asked, “Do you wear a helmet?” I told the truth: “Nie mam.” “Write that down!” he said to Marcin with a bit of a laugh. “The dictaphone is still on,” he replied. I asked if he’d had time to install the surveillance equipment – and the “ploy” worked, for the bike wasn’t mentioned again. Still, they now know . . . Still, nothing happened.

They both said my lesson was well done (as opposed to medium rare). What I liked best was that they said it is obvious that I enjoy teaching. Hopefully the students see that too. (I am sure many of them do.) Marcin also commented (and I concurred) that I’m very gentle with the students. “You don’t yell, but you get down with the students and talk very quietly, even whispering.” That’s what I want: I think the best (or one of) qualities a teacher can have is patience, which is exhibited by gentleness. I never want to yell at my students the way Barbara B. did on a few occasions. (I don’t even want to be openly hostile, though there is nothing wrong with anger – and showing it.)

More rain–two days of good weather are history. This morning I saw the grey sky and thought, “Good, back to normal.” After all, who wants sun? Who needs a bright day? This is just another new things I must get used to, I guess.

I had a word with the headmistress of the primary school. I went in with the intention of dropping my hours in classes V and VI. As might be expected, things got a little more grey than I was hoping for. Here is the situation: The Minister of Education requires eight hours of English in classes V-VIII. Because of the current situation, the Ministry has said that only four will do for now. I took those hours but now am having second thoughts, particularly about V and VI (see 16 September entry). So I talked to Pani Dyrektor about this and here is a summary of the outcome:

Those two hours (V & VI) would have to be picked up by someone, namely Danuta. It is not acceptable for VII and VIII to have English and V and VI not to have it. So if I drop those hours and Danuta doesn’t pick them up, the whole English program would have to be dropped and replaced with Russian. Never mind that there is no one here to teach Russian; rules are rules.

Now Danuta cannot possibly pick up those hours: She’s already teaching five more than she agreed to. With her studies it is impossible. Danuta assures me, though, that Frank will insist that she take those two hours. And if she refuses she could be fired.

That would make for an interesting situation. Instead of needing one teacher they would need two; instead of lacking two hours, they would lack twenty-five. Additionally, if Danuta left I would have to change sites because I must have a counterpart teacher–Dierdre already had to change sites because of a similar problem. So they would have to find three English teachers and they would lack forty-seven hours of English.

I made the decision to continue on the current plan until December. I didn’t want to drop this whole load on them at once, so I’m giving them time to intensify their search for a teacher. (Considering that my light still isn’t fixed, I doubt they’ll meet with much success.)

I hate the way this is turning into a power struggle. If I unload the preceding bomb (and that’s really what it is) on Frank, I risk angering him, for it has the feel of (maybe genuinely is) a power play. I don’t want to anger him so early–I need all the friends I can get at this point.

What I am afraid of is that once these four hours (only two really–I’ll continue with VII and VIII) are covered, the hunt for a teacher will not be as much of a priority. This is only a temporary fix; those lacking two hours should serve to stoke their efforts, to increase the sense of urgency. “Well, we do have Gary and ____ covering those four hours now . . .”

This whole thing is turning into a nightmare. I fear that once I drop these two hours Danuta will be pressured to take these to hours, and she will cave to the demands. “Can’t you live with this? Can’t you solve this problem instead of running away from it? Isn’t that part of the reason I joined PC to begin with?” I don’t know what I’ll do. I’ll survive–we’ll survive. It’s just the method of survival seems so vague–cloudy, like the typical sky here.

I don’t what to do about IIB. They are all chronically uninspired. “To say they are apathetic is to ascribe to them an enthusiasm that is not there,” as I told Chhavi. They are totally unresponsive. I think some of it is attributable to the language barrier, but certainly not all of it. I don’t know what to do about it. IIA is usually pretty bad at the beginning of lessons, but they usually give it some effort later in the lesson: I can live with that. But IIB–words do not describe my level of frustration with them. The group of disruptive guys in the back makes things a little worse, if that’s possible.

One thing that is really bothering me is the difficulty I’m having with names. They’re so, well, foreign. It takes me such a long time. I doubt I will ever learn the names of the kids in 5-8.

Speaking of my primary hours, I had a brief discussion with Danuta about the problems I have there. First of all, one hour a week is practically useless. I will not be able to do anything other than teach them to parrot a few things. Second, the language barrier further impedes the learning process. I have no way of making sure they really understand what I’m talking about. (I think in this case Polish is not only acceptable; it is down-right necessary.) This also makes it difficult to test them, and therefore hard to give grades. Last, and most significant in some ways, the classes are too big. Thirty twelve-year-olds–it’s impossible to keep them under control (i.e. language barrier), even if I could speak Polish like a native. So I have thirty wild kids with only two or three listening to me, probably understanding less than half of all I say. It is a waste of everyone’s time, I fear. I will give it a few weeks, then talk to the headmistress about my thoughts, my fears. Of course Danuta was right when she said that eventually I’ll be asked to teach the additional four hours the Ministry of Education requires. I will flatly refuse. I will patiently wait and see what happens . . .