The Daily Grind

Ok gang, so I realize I haven’t been so great at giving ya’ll a better idea of what actually transpires day to day.  I am going to talk about some things going on that are exciting and others that are… not so much.

As you may remember, I teach grades 3^rd through 12^th. At first grades 4^th, 7^th, 8^th, and 9^th were not a part of my schedule. After the TEFL director came for her visit last month, I started reexamining the areas where I might be needed and those in which I might not. It had been suggested to me that my time would be better well spent with the younger children than the older ones. Now, I skip 12^th grade once a week and go to 4^th grade twice a week. In my 11^th grade, I take the four students who give me their attention and work with them separately in the English room, while my counterpart babysits the others. Soon, once I get over this damn cold, I will start clubs for 7th, 8th, and 9th.

Over the summer during training, when previous TEFL volunteers would tell us how they had decided to stop attending certain classes, I remember not really understanding or agreeing with the decision. After a month in school, I now know better. Here’s the thing: while these kids have been ‘learning’ English since 3^rd grade, there are a handful of reasons why most of the 11^th and 12^th graders have retained as much of the language as the 5^th graders.  1. It seems English teachers are on high rotation. 2. Many of these previous teachers could not, themselves, speak the language.  3. The idea of the ‘America Dream’, which is used as a motivational tool by other teachers in the states, is out of the question.

By the time most of these students are in their early teens, they know what it’s going to be for them. Typically, the girls are waiting on a man to come ask for their hand in marriage, then later pop out a baby and maintain the household. One of my seniors is already engaged, and while she claims to want to leave Armenia ‘so freaking bad’ (a song lyric I taught her), she is the most stubborn in regards to learning. She will flat out refuse to participate in most of the activities I plan out. The boys will inherit the manual labor of their forefathers or continue perfecting their trade, whether it be fixing cars or driving them, fishing, farming, etc. On average, maybe two or three students per grade will go on to study higher education.  (I’m speaking in regards to my specific school here in Malishka).

If I were them, I would probably be similarly unmotivated.  They know that they are far behind, and many adults gave up on them back in the 5^th grade.  What do they care about this goofy unmarried American girl that tries to act cool, while speaking gibberish to them? They don’t.

Okay, so now for the exciting part. My little babies in the 3^rd, 4^th, 5^th, and 6^th grades are so excited to have me there. (Well, not so much 5^th grade, because my oppressive stern nature is required in that classroom). The 4^th graders literally celebrate my arrival to class twice a week. They still believe anything is possible and that they are just as capable of learning as their neighbor. One of my small victories thus far, is when the bad boys know they are being bad, I give them ‘the look’ and mockingly they say, “PLEASE BE QUIET!”. But hey, they are speaking English and appropriately (it also makes me giggle on the inside). 

Also, there is a big, fat diamond in the rough here. I discovered her one mundane afternoon in my 10^th grade class, maybe in week two or three. For homework I had assigned 10 sentences using new vocabulary. Most of the students reiterated a version of the examples we had gone over the class before; but these sentences she made, Oh.My.God.! They were impressive for a student in the states! They were thoughtful, complex and revealed a greater understanding of life. Luckily, the volunteer before me also recognized her shimmering, shinning light and had been strongly encouraging her to participate in the FLEX program. 

FLEX is a program sponsored by the American Councils, that sends between 20-30 high school students, from mostly ex-Soviet countries, to study at a high school in America for one year. The application process is really similar to Peace Corps, with medical exams and all. Malishka’s diamond just got through the final round of testing this past week. It’s a crime if she is not given the opportunity to see life outside the village! Just an example of how incredible this girl is: Last week, before the FLEX interview, I invited her over to my host family’s house for a mock interview. When I asked her to speak about important things she learned at GLOW camp from the year before, she started talking about the gender issue in Armenia. Gender issues.  I don’t even think gender issues were on my radar until college. Now, I have her reading Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger. It’s so inspiring to sit and discuss terms like ‘existential crisis’ with this girl.  I can’t get over it.

All in all, the good and the difficult are well balanced in my professional life here. Some things are tough, and I wine to Siranush about them, others are awesome and I gush to Siranush about them.  Then, I call my brother Andrew and we laugh about everything. 

Quote of The Week: "I did yoga for two weeks, it was good. Yoga is good."

Song Of The Week: Cat Power: Satisfaction

An Apology

Dear Friends and Family,


I want to express my deepest apologies if you have found any of my posts vulgar and or offensive. This was not my intention when I set out to keep a blog. Sometimes I find myself getting carried away, and while I want to 'be myself', I realize this blog is to inform you darlings of my experiences over here - not to reveal my fondness of sexual innuendos or vulgar language. I must admit, these are perhaps parts of my personality you've had the pleasure of never encountering. What can I say, I feel like an adult with the freedom to behave as I see fit. And well, I guess, I am not exactly concerned with other's perceptions of how I approach life.

This is beginning to become a justification though, so let's get back to the matter at hand. I'm sorry if some things I may have said were too over the top, or just downright (in your eyes) wrong. I will be sure to take your feelings and sensitivities into greater consideration from here on out.

Yoga and Cartwheels Over a Sunset

Well hello, my darlings! I have missed you like the desert misses the rain! (Remember that tune from the mid to late 90’s? “Annnnndd I misss youuu yeaaahh”).

I had the great intention of writing a new post directly after the weekend, but it just so happens that frolicking in the grass barefoot until the sun goes down when you are on the back end of a cold is a terrible, terrible idea.  I am not one for sickness, I can often be found boasting an immune system of equal strength as my astrological sign during cold season. So, knowing this, you might guess I am appalled at my body’s recent inability to kick a simple cold. Maybe it is the lack of understanding about how colds are passed here in Armenia, maybe it was all the cigarettes Friday night, maybe it is the frolicking barefootness – one will never be able to say. All I know is, I don’t have a bathtub to cry in over the ordeal while in the fetal position so as to cope, and it’s really beginning to wear on me.

I digress.

This past Friday was Teacher’s Day at school. Classes were cut short and school let out around 12:30 so that the teachers could all go home and get ready for the party. I have had my fair share of experiences with Armenian parties, so to an extent I knew what would transpire; I would be asked to toast, to dance, to eat a lot, and encouraged to drink amounts of alcohol that no other female Armenian would consider appropriate with my Director.  In the meantime, I would be on call to give directions to any volunteer leaving the capital trying to find their way down to Vayots Dzor for the Wine Fesitval.

I was genuinely looking forward to seeing both familiar and unfamiliar faces over the weekend. I also had plans (for the first time) to cook a big brunch Sunday morning for both my friends and host family.  I left the teacher party earlier to go get sassed-up and head to the nearby town where my fellow Club Yeg members and their guests would be awaiting my arrival. (Well, this isn’t exactly true. I may or may not have harassed my friend Chris with an overuse of vulgar language on the drive over with my host dad. Some might say the recent increase in my affinity for speaking vulgarly, because those around me do not understand a word of it, is becoming a slight problem). I had spontaneously cut bangs into my hair the night before and was anxious for positive attention.  Mommy got what she wanted!

When we got home my family had the honor and privilege of experiencing my friend Phi. That’s right, you don’t meet Phi, so much as you experience her. They were delighted with her goofiness and fun loving nature – the same reasons we are such good friends. Where I am rough around the edges, Phi is soft, and we balance one another out well.  We had a lazy morning and headed for the festival around one.

At the festival, I quickly ditched my host family so that I may be uninhibited. Also, my host father was getting a little irritated with Phi and I for not speaking in Armenian, so it was time to part ways. We soon found another volunteer and he acted as our tour guide for a short time. Afterwards we walked around, taking in all of the sights: impromptu Hikakhan dancing (Armenian style), the President’s body guards and car but not the man himself, and all the free wine a wino like myself could dream of. There were cheeses to taste as well, but something about the hot sun and warm white wine made the cheese extremely unappealing.

Later on, Phi and I eventually made it out to the field where the rest of the volunteers had gathered. I really have no idea who originally found this place, but it is was key. We had all the freedom to be our most ridiculous selves, and ya’ll know I took full advantage of this.  The last couple of times I have spoken with friends or family back home, I’ve tried to explain the nature of these get-togethers. I know for me, one of my most regular and needed releases is unavailable to me in my daily life. What is this, you ask? Busting chops. Good lord. I don’t think I really understood how much this was a part of my personality. Even if I knew how to bust chops in Armenian, it wouldn’t exactly be appropriate. Essentially, all of this pent up sarcasm is near boiling over by the time I am with other Americans. And man, do I let loose. As someone whose life has been characterized by being, how shall I say this, a little odd – being ‘proper’ and ‘appropriate’ is seriously exhausting for me.  I can only speak for myself, but I think this is true for everyone to varying degrees. Alas, the get-togethers.

Over the weekend I took a lot of pictures, did cartwheels and yoga as the sun set over the mountains, conversed with a good amount of people and in general had a really good time. In the past, my summers have had at least a few occasions similar to the wine festival, so being able to get one last lick in before the cold weather comes was absolutely worth the bad cold.

Sky's The Limit

As promised, I am posting off of my usual schedule. How exciting! 

You must excuse my recent theatrical, dramatic, I don't really know what, tone of writing. I have been reading Tom Robbins, again. Typically, when I am overindulging myself within the pages of an author with a very unique style of writing, I find my own writing (or 'voice') heavily influenced. You can see similar behavior in earlier postings, but at the time I was a Game of Thrones junkie, so I was using terms like 'small clothes' in regards to those silky undergarments scarcely to be found amongst my belongings.

Anywho, I finally had the opportunity to speak with the volunteer whom was here in Malishka from August of 2010 until April of 2012. He passed along some very pertinent information as I stood outside the school and six 11th grade boys stood around trying to look tough. I was so glad to get feedback from him about everything here. It's a funny thing to have never met a person, but be (somewhat) standing in their exact shoes, two years later and get to talk it over. I hear so much about him from community members and my counterpart, that after talking to him for an hour, I feel like we are close friends.

If you remember from my last post, I have been a little under the weather this week. I woke up last Wednesday feeling like poop and then on Thursday morning, just plain old shit. I was Zicaming and Emergencying all day long and after another day of rest on Friday, felt ok to go to our make-up day of school on Saturday. Yes- that's right; when there is a holiday on a Monday, school is held on a Saturday. The children are also allowed to run, scream and play in the hallways in between classes for five minutes. (This probably the reason why they are all so well behaved afterwards). As I was SAYINNNGG, I have been ridden with mucus coming out of every possible pore for about a week now. Unfortunately for me, Armenians consider blowing your nose in public akin to dropping your pants and popping a squat in the great wide open for all to see your goodies. All week, I've had to retire to my bedroom, the bathroom, or just somewhere away from others to honk the nasal horn. It's a real pain in my ass.

This past Sunday was the twin girls' 15th birthday. In the afternoon, their classmates came over to awkwardly giggle, blush and smile at one another until the 12 of them killed a bottle of red wine. And then, well, after that things got pretty wild. I decided to write letters in the meantime. I finally RECEIVED my letter from my college buddy, Sean. He's quite the character and I admire him for his complete lack of f-giving. I also received a package from my dear mother. I had asked her to please include some peanut butter M&M's as they are unavailable here. She swore they would melt and I bet her $50 they would not. She owes me. I nightly enjoy slowly sucking them down to their tasty peanut buttery insides as I watch episodes of True Blood and squeal in my nightgown inside the sleeping bag my brother Philip bought me two years ago when I was in the application process.

In the evening, the rest of the family came over for round two of the birthday party. There was much dancing and very loud music until about 2am (on a Sunday, mind you). I went to bed around 11pm and I suppose Siranush wanted to make sure that I wasn't mad about all the noise. Now, I have been sleeping on the floor since I moved here. The bed is more a less a hammock made out of springs from World War II. Nightly, I pull off the makeshift mattress, covers and such, and sleep. It doesn't bother me a bit, so I didn't feel this was something I needed to share with Siranush. In the beginning, I would be so anxious that someone might come in and find me! I haven't been thinking of it often, as I know now that the family respects the closed door. If the door is closed, it means don't bother me, or knock to make sure I don't mind you bothering me. Anyway, Siranush knocked and simultaneously opened the door. I felt like I'd been caught doing... something, with how guilty I felt. She played it real cool though and only finally addressed it today. She simply told me they would fix the bed to be more supportive.

And that, my loves, is why I am staying here for the winter.


Quote Of The Week: "Maybe, if they keep me teaching the brats, I will - I dunno, kill somebody." Anonymous 50+ y.o. 

Song Of The Week: Norah Jones - Travelin' On

Holistic Doctors in Malishka! Say WHAA?!?

Sorry for the delay between postings, folks. I know you have all been anxiously awaiting some new tale from the world of yours truly. I imagine when you see this posted into the FB feed that you will feel your heart rate quicken and a stirring in your belly similar to that of when you were on the precipice of your first kiss.

Last week there were two Armenian holidays, so including my off-day on Thursday, I only had two days of school. One of those days, my program manager came to visit. She met with my Principal (or Director), myself and my counterpart. Interestingly, as I met her at the school's front steps and we entered the school, she informed me that it is a direct insult to the Principal if upon her immediate arrival she did not go see him first. He had only wonderful things to say about me, that I show up for meetings I don't understand, that I understand more Armenian than the volunteer before me and that I am 'cheerful'. It's uncommon here in Armenia to smile at others for something unwarranted. Most people are typically frowning or neutral when greeting one another. This is because they regard smiling as foolish or childish, and they want to be taken seriously. This is also the thinking behind their mean mugs in photographs, no matter how exciting an occasion.

I am not sure what the exact details are behind the holiday on Monday, but I tagged along with my family to the village church. There we each lit three candles, admired the grounds which over look the ruins of the original Malishka. Afterwards, we headed to the first graveyard where Siranush's father is buried. I hadn't realized that he only passed away two years ago, which is really no time at all when you are close to a person. As she approached the tombstone she greeted him, "Barev, Pop" (Hi, Dad). Her husband Samvell prepared a small little fire in the appropriated silver bowl behind the gravestone as Siranush and the twins cleaned the tombstone and surrounding area. They wiped the stone down, pulled out weeds and burned incense in the fire when the area was ready. They didn't say much throughout the process, but it was certainly emotionally intense. There were many other families in the graveyard doing the same thing.  We went to a second graveyard for another family member but it wasn't quite as emotional.

Afterwards, we went to the home of the two residing holistic doctors here in Malishka. They live on the side of the mountain overlooking the rest of the village. They have an amazing view and home. The wife is Russian and the husband looks like Santa Claus. They were very cool people. I even got an energy balancing treatment while I was there! It was so awesome to know that I have access to holistic treatments while I am here. The Russian wife is trained in Tibetan understands of health and medicine, and I am not too sure about the husband. They are the godparents of Siranush, and I am welcome there for free treatments at any time.

Last Friday was the 21st Anniversary of Armenia's Independence Day. Oddly, no one did much of anything at all. We went to go see Samvell's parents who reside in this tiny little shack in the mountains during the summer months. It's a place that looks like somewhere I THOUGHT I would end up before I actually got here.

The next day I went to Yerevan to meet with the co-organizer of the National Poetry Contest that I am helping put together. After our meeting I went shopping with my friend Joy for some new shoes, but couldn't find anything that I liked and or fit me AGAIN. That night a big group of us went out to experience the nightlife of the capital. Things were... interesting. The entire night I kept thinking,"This is Peace Corps?" It's definitely weird to have vices available to me that I was hoping to not have the temptation of for two years. Oh, the irony!

I will post again over the weekend hopefully to fill in little awesome tidbits, but for now I am sick in bed with a bad a cold and want to close my eyes. I wrote only because I know how you've longed for a slice of my life!

"Sometimes, when I'm at home alone... I blow my nose." Joy Roberson

Song of the Week: Afro Celt Sound System: Listen to Me

Class Decorum

School is finally in full swing here in Malishka. Apparently though, the schedule could still potentially change up until September 15^th. There is a lot about my day-to-day life that reminds me of being in college (minus my extra curricular activities).  For instances, on Thursdays I don’t have class and my schedule is different everyday. Sometimes, I have a 3 hour break in between classes and if I don’t have a class until 3^rd period, I arrive for 3^rd period. At the moment, my busiest day is Monday, when I have five classes. Luckily though, on that day, I do not also have my least preferably behaved class.

At the moment I am teaching 3^rd-12^th grade, with the exceptions of the 4^th,7^th, and 9^th grades. My school was recently renovated and does not have the same broken down old-soviet-times feel as that of other schools I have visited. The view of the mountains in some classrooms is just breathtaking. Interestingly enough, I have yet to catch any of my students (okay – maybe the 5^th graders) staring out the window daydreaming. I remember getting lost in the beauty of the field hockey field day after day in my high school.

Being on the other side of the classroom has opened my eyes to my not-so-awesome behavior back in the dizzle. I had the tendency to vacillating between daydreaming, messing around with peers and actively participating in class. I guess I thought, because I did well and was (mostly) prepared for class, that I could get away with the bullshit. Well, I know now, that it doesn’t make a difference. No matter how well a student does, being disruptive in the classroom is THE most frustrating thing on the planet. It’s even more frustrating when you realize that you have no power or authority to control the behavior.

Just a glimpse of some of the ridiculous shit I would pull in high school: In 9^th or 10^th grade I had this history teacher whom had travelled the world and taken a lot of photographs. Her lessons consisted of 5 page outlines and a slideshow. It bored the shit out of me, so I employed my friend that sat behind me to play with my hair for the hour. I would actually lay my head backwards and take a nap during this woman’s class. It happened nearly every class and for some reason she left it fly. One day we had a substitute, so I went about my business and I remember this guy being so annoyed; especially since I acted like it was my god given right to have my hair played with during that hour.  Jesus…

Anyway, in my village’s school there are a lot of grandmother-grandchild, parent–child relations. As you can imagine, it doesn’t help the behavioral problems. It is also very uncommon to fail a student, or for a student to repeat a grade. I am not positive, but I doubt that there is one person in that school not heavily interwoven within the fabric of the community. It would shame a family if a student was to fail, and it would hurt the relationship if a teacher failed a student. The students are obviously aware of this and, aware of the fact that at the end of the day, they truly can treat me however they want and it will not affect the outcome of their grades. It's something that I am trying to figure out... and will later become a talking point in interviews.

Next week my program manager is coming for a visit and I look forward to discussing some frustrations with her. In the meantime, I continue my routines of writing, yoga and running (though it's been more difficult to center around the school schedule). I will start up my clubs in October and am looking forward to the Wine Festival in three weeks or so.


Weekly quote: "You let her eat our cookies, THE COOKIES?!?!" - Yours Truly

In the Beginning...

Hey gang,

Sorry for the lapse between blog postings. I have been busy getting ready for school to begin and, with it’s actual beginning! And lordy lord, am I glad to finally get the ball rolling.

Here in Armenia, Sept. 1^st is considered a holiday. No matter what day of the week it is, students and teachers alike show up in their Sunday best to congratulate one another on the start of the new school year. Every school differs in their actual celebration of Sept. 1^st, but my school had a small awards ceremony to recognize student’s efforts from the year before. The event was held on the steps of the school, with the teachers standing behind the Director as he spoke and the students and parents watching from down below. (For some odd reason, it felt sort of like the opening scene of Hunger Games).  Once the Director was finished the students, overwhelmed with joy, ran into the school.

Afterwards a great majority of the staff gathered in the teacher’s lounge to sit around and shoot the shit about the upcoming year until the marshutni came, about two hours later. There was no teaching, no talk of schedules… it was interesting to say the least. I joined about 10 other teachers for a mini celebration complete with pizza and coffee at the café in Yeg., where I am normally throwing back beers with my site mates. It felt a little odd, but one of the things that I am getting pretty good at here is simply sitting back and going with the flow. For some of my acquaintances that might seem a little odd, that Carolyn Rodgers needs to learn how to go with the flow - but being here has opened my eyes to the fact of a certain little factor that assisted in my general 'go with the flow' attitude. I do not have access to it here and well, it has certainly changed things for me. One of the things that the Peace Corps application always talked about was flexibility. Now, it has come to take on a very, very different meaning.  Sometimes, that means getting over the union of your personal and professional life.

Monday was the first legitimate day of school, with bells and classes and everything. My counterpart had decided that I would be the focus of the day, which I was unaware of until after the first bell. Just a quick re-cap: In the Peace Corps Armenia TEFL program, PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) are paired with HCNs (Host Country Nationals) for two years in an collaborative effort to further develop the English skills of students and community members alike. I am to be working in conjunction with my ‘counterpart’ in the classroom, on a daily basis. I had previously thought it might be to my advantage that she had just spent the last two years with a different volunteer. This hypothesis remains unproved.

I am doing my best to reserve judgment and be open-minded. Yet, it has proven very difficult in the face of my day-to-day reality. I’m sure I have said it, maybe not on here – but definitely to friends and family- that while I am in an amazing post; one where I have daily access to internet, running water, the food groups I am accustomed to, and a taste of western life should I choose a 3 hour drive away – there is still much that is challenging about being here. I always need to remind myself to never forget why I choose to come here: to be challenged and to experience the sort of growth that can not take place back home inside the box.

So, you could say that I’m getting what I asked for.

 “So, you mean, I bucket bathed for this?” Jesse ‘Ger-a-lee-eh’ Garrison