This year the kids at my school put on a bunch of performances—singing, dancing, acting, playing instruments, and just about anything else you could think of. It’s at these performances that I realize I’ve gotten way too attached and I can’t stand to think of finishing my service! Parents don’t usually watch these concerts, but I take their place by staying the entire 7 hours (I swear this year every single student performed something), taking a million pictures and videos and clapping very VERY loudly. (Audiences here are tough crowd. If they weren’t impressed by what you did, they just won’t clap. Even if you’re a 6-year-old girl who just recited a poem in Russian. In fact, they’ll often leave or make phone calls. I feel bad about this, so I make up for it by being Crazy Clapping Lady.) In my second year, I feel like I know most of the kids at my school (since I teach all the 5th-11th grade classes), especially the ones who come to my after school clubs and tutoring. So now I get really excited about seeing the kids perform (“Monkhtuvshin from 11a is going to sing a solo!”) Of course, I don’t know many of the students’ names. I’m getting a lot better this year, but I have to admit when I looked at the roster for one class and saw “Janlavtsogzol” and “Mungunchadmana” next to each other, I sort of gave up on the idea of memorizing every student’s name. Instead I have private nicknames for a lot of them based on distinguishing features—Hairdo, Cheekbones, Turtleneck Boy, Chubs (I mean this in the most loving way possible), Tiny, Mr. Cool, Dimples, Genius, Braces, Mustache, Smiley, etc. This is generally a good system and I’m good at faking, but occasionally I get caught and it becomes clear that I don’t know someone’s name. For example, one 7th grade girl ran up to me at the beginning of class and whispered in my ear, “Today is Enkhbaatar’s birthday! Let’s sing ‘Happy Birthday’ song!” I agreed and had just started directing the class: “One…two…” when she ran back up to me yelling, “No, not yet--Enkhbaatar is in the bathroom!” (We did end up singing for him when he got back. Poor Enkhbaatar stared at his shoes and turned so red I thought his head was going to explode.)
Every single one of my students is so, so sweet. Even the boys who sit in the back and hit each other while you’re trying to explain how to form the past passive tense really mean well. My favorite classes last year were the 5th graders. I was worried that over the summer they would turn into pubescent jerks, but they didn’t! I still almost never leave a class without some origami flowers or candy.
So now I’m officially an old lady who gets all sentimental at student concerts. At the New Year’s concert, the 11th grade boys and girls waltzed together and it was so cute I almost died. I also took at least a hundred pictures of 9th-graders hip hop dancing. My landlord (my school’s Japanese teacher) held a concert to show off her singing talents. I know for sure I’m losing it because I got all teary eyed when she sang the “My Heart Will Go On” techno remix.
I also like this time of year because I get to teach fun holiday lessons. I’ve given up trying to explain that Christmas and New Year’s Day are different holidays in America. (Here they decorate New Year’s trees and Grandfather Winter gives children presents on Jan. 1st.) But I do teach them useless trivia about reindeer and elves. You never really think about how bizarre our Christmas mythology is until you explain it to someone who’s never heard it before. For one 8th grade class, I had them discuss differences between American and Mongolian Christmas. It was in this class that I learned that Mongolian Santa does not travel using magical flying reindeer, but rather by taxi. They also very seriously asked me, “Wait…but does American Santa actually exist?” (My answer: Yes, of course.)
Other than the holiday stuff, there’s not much exciting going on. My school now has 4 cows who hang out in the schoolyard. I have asked several people, both students and teachers, “Whose cows are those?” (while pointing out the window) and they always answer by giggling and saying they don’t know. Really? No one knows? Are they runaway cows who somehow made it through the school gates? Is someone looking for them? I’ve been giving them a wide berth ever since I walked to close to one and it mooed angrily and started peeing with such force that it sprayed all over my shoes.
It reminds me of a story my sitemate the business volunteer told me. During training our first summer, one of the first obstacles his group came across when trying to research businesses in their training town was a cow relaxing in front of the door to the bank. No one could convince it to move, so everyone who needed money was just waiting around for the cow to decide to leave.
As for classes, most of them are pretty fun. My students aren’t afraid of me the way they are other teachers, which makes classroom management a little difficult, but as a rule, if they’re yelling things at each other in English (“She is boy!” “He is yeti!”), I let it go because at least they’re practicing the target language. In one 11th grade class, the boys have taken to walking around the room and imitating me, yelling “no, wrong!” or “correct, good job!” or “bad boy!” to the other students. (For the record, I do not admonish students with “bad boy!” but I guess this is how English teachers talk in their imaginations.) My job as a teacher and grown-up person is to pretend I don’t think this is funny and tell them to sit down. This is what I travelled halfway across the world for—to be made fun of daily by teenagers.
Nowadays I spend so much time at school that the toilet situation is becoming an issue. There are a few indoor toilets, but the bathrooms aren’t constructed well, so you can’t sit on the toilet and close the door at the same time. I’ve developed a sort of diagonal squat (there are no seats) that works pretty well if I hold on to the door. The primary school only has holes in the ground. I try to avoid them since last time I used one, 3 first-grade girls yanked the door to the stall open while I was doing my business and explained urgently that that one was broken and I would have to use another one. I know they were trying to be helpful, but it was a little late by then. (I won’t even try to understand how a hole in the ground can be broken.)
I’ve been trying to be a good volunteer by going to the weekly teachers’ meetings this year. Last year I only went to a few because I have to concentrate really hard to understand what’s going on and that gives me a headache. Sometimes I just zone out and stare at people, which is pretty amusing. Our meetings are held in a classroom. The director sits at the teacher’s desk and lectures at us while we take the role of students by sitting in desks and staring out the window, sleeping, or playing with our phones. At our first meeting of the year, the director announced that this year there would be no drinking at school during school hours, and the teachers responded with a collective eye roll. Then we all did vodka shots to celebrate the new year. I guess it was after school hours? In fact, they seem to do that every week, then they go to the gym to play volleyball. The meeting is during dinnertime, so no one has eaten. I usually just head home, because I’m pretty sure if I drank 4 shots of vodka on an empty stomach then played volleyball, I would hurl.
Aside from work, I don’t do much, but there are now 10 English-speaking volunteers from various organizations in Arvaiheer, so I have good company on the weekends. Not that there’s much to do. “Going out” means going to a club and getting a private karaoke room. The club scene is not very popular, as I think I’ve mentioned, and clubs and bars have to close by midnight. Around 11:45, a few policemen will go around to all the clubs (all 5 of them!) and make sure they’re closing down. Once at karaoke we volunteers lost track of time and a couple of cops came to our room to tell us it was time to go. They apologized for interrupting our “party,” and we started putting on our coats (…and hats, earmuffs, scarves, glove liners, gloves, etc., etc.) The cops left the room for a minute, then came back and told us to sit down. We all exchanged a nervous “Are we in trouble?” look and sat back down. Even though everyone had been shooed out of the bar area and the lights had been turned off, the policemen made the owners turn our karaoke machine back on. Then they sang with us for another hour. Sometimes I really like living in a small town where nothing exciting happens.
Holiday concert...
Grandfather Winter and his Snow Girls:
Hip hop dance:
Skit:
Horse-head fiddle:
Great outfit!
These are from my CP's son's kindergarten. I thought they were too cute not to put up!
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ReplyDeleteJoyce,
ReplyDeleteHad some issue with posting comments. Still following and enjoying your very interesting stories. Thanks for sharing.