Semester in Review. SEPTEMBER.

 It’s odd to be back in the swing of school after being out of the system for a two years. And it’s even more challenging to be on the teacher’s side of things. You hear that kids? School is the cake-walk part of life. The past semester has been a blur, and I regret I have not been better at posting or sharing the happenings of it as they have come. But here comes the overview...

SEPTEMBER. This was the beginning of a big learning experience for a bunch of Moldovan students in Ciorescu, Moldova and one hardheaded, stubborn Americanca. I spent the first few weeks in a whirlwind of names (they all have the same 10 to 20 names, but they have such distinct accents I feel doomed to always mispronounce them), disciplinary trials and errors, funny miscommunications, patient partner teachers, and cultural adaptations. I jumped in with both feet and arms wide open. Each week, I introduced something new to my students (and myself as well really).

           The first week, I introduced myself. They snickered at (but I think quite enjoyed) my attempts at speaking Romanian. I am in a continual learning process of how to best communicate with, encourage, and challenge them. I feel appreciated, and am quite fulfilled in the work I am able to do with my students. They like having a native English speaker to learn from, or in some cases a noob of a new teacher they can take advantage of.

The second week, I started an English club. Attendance continues to be anywhere from 12 to 20 students and I am always drawing from my own language learning experiences, youth group games played, and a handful of resources provided by Peace Corps. The club runs for an hour and a half, and my kids are always up for one more activity (this keeps me on my toes, but I work well on the fly). My favorite games so far have been telephone and telepictionary. On e game of telephone began with “The cat was so fat it could not move” and ended with “the cat”. Nice try kids. Telepictionary consists of a series of sentences written and pictures drawn and passed around a circle. The end results were similar to telephone with “the kat” bleh bleh.

One thing that students seem to lack in Moldova is critical thinking skills. Their system is set up to create direct input and output machines. So the ability fill in the blanks, ask questions for clarification, or think outside the box are often missing. However, they have all the potential in the world to gain these skills and I am already seeing progress in this direction.

The week after English Club began, I (with the help of my partner teacher) rallied and gathered 17 of our students to bus over to another village to take the FLEX test. FLEX is a student exchange program sponsored by the U.S. that gives high schoolers the opportunity to study in the States for a year. They are chosen not on academic standing (though they must have some basic English communication skills), but on their ability to display cultural adaptability and the desire to better themselves and the world around them through education. I was elated to be sitting on that bus with a bunch of excited high school students looking to big things for their futures.

 
While some of them were only there to miss a day of school, and only a few of them passed the basic English exam and still more were not moved on to the next round because they were caught cheating (cheating on an essay where they were asked to write about themselves mind you), I was still happy to have been a part of providing them with a new opportunity to improve their education.

            The final week in September, I introduced a business project to my students called the Diamond Challenge. This project gives students the opportunity to idealize, create, and present an idea for a business and then compete for a cash prize and trip to the states where they will present their project idea on an international level. It uses a new business model, called the lean canvas business model, rather than a business plan. The idea behind this lean canvas is to encourage entrepreneurs to test their products on customers before investing big bucks into a plan they have only idealized. I continue to learn just as much as I am teaching here. My mind is spinning with my own ideas as well as how I can be a part of other's success. My students came up with some fantastic ideas, but the execution seems to be the biggest challenge (makes sense). The models are due in January. It’s go time team!

On Teaching

No one every says “teaching is easy”, but most would agree that it is rewarding. I’m two months into teaching English as a foreign language to over 100 different high school students (and some 7^th graders) and I am convinced I will never know everything I need to know to be perfect at this job. I’m also confident in admitting that being an English instructor here is teaching me far more about life and about myself than I am able to give back in English instruction.

My biggest struggles are student motivation and combatting cheating. I have a bad habit of taking both personally.

Remembering student life, I can relate to finding more enjoyable things to do with my time than study. But now, in a career setting where I’m working for and responsible for more than myself, the value of reaping education’s benefits is very evident. I want to give everything I can to promote and encourage these kids, but I’m finding that process exhausting. My hardheaded, stubborn nature often serves me well, and I think its effects will eventually be of benefit in my work here… but I know it won’t be easy.

Similar to the U.S., Moldova has a standardized test for all graduating students to take before going on to University. 90% of students typically pass this test and move on to higher education. Last year, Moldova implemented a strict “no cheating” policy during the test. They used video cameras and increased the number of test monitors. Students caught cheating were removed and required to wait until the following year to complete the test. Only 60% of the students passed.

They get real creative in their cheating practices, and parents often help. In school, parents will use bribery or sometimes threats to increase their child’s grades. During the exams, they will give answers via Bluetooth (somehow, the exam always shows up online half an hour after it begins). I’ve even heard rumors of students writing questions on pieces of paper, throwing them out an open window, a recipient fining the answer and then throwing the paper back into the testing room. It’s ridiculous. During quizzes and tests in class, I stand up front evil eying all the kids to try and put an end to it, and I still find cheaters. They use their winiest voices to complain that they were just asking another student for clarification on a question or just asking to borrow the whiteout (they’re all about the whiteout here. Just use a pencil!). Their wondering eyes pointed directly at their neighbor’s paper just happen to be their best thinking stance (go figure). Sometimes students will hold their papers up, broadcasting their answers to fellow students behind them, and excuse it as “a new angle” to look at the test (they’re very communal in their cheating practices). They use their books and cell phones when they think you’re not looking, and they take every opportunity you’re helping an individual student with an answer to share information with each other. It’s an educational circus.

            Change is slow. Yet even with an extreme crack-down on cheating, the concept of academic integrity is far from being understood... or at least practiced. One day after a battle with cheating students during a quiz, I asked all the students to stand up.

“Sit down if you think it’s appropriate to cheat during a quiz”. Two snarky girls sit down and glare at me in contempt.

“Sit down if you think it’s acceptable to “help” one another during a quiz or a test”. All but two students sat down.

My heart sank.

“Fail. Have fun taking the BAC exam twice. Now let’s get to work.”

            I was initially worried about teaching because I didn’t think I would like working with the youth. I was wrong, I love working with them. But I hate being their disciplinarian. I feel so small swimming in this system of corruption as a volunteer just trying to help where I can. The egoist in me says I should be doing more, but frustrations and mistakes humble mek.

Teachers Baptism

Following the first bell, the teachers had their own celebration for the beginning of the school year. They had house wine and cognac, lots of meat and placinta (it’s just a type of pastry) a plenty. One big teacher masa. They’re all about the masas here and I love it. This is kind of how it went…

-Larissa, eat this. Take more. Red or white. Take a shot for Maria’s new nephew. (Maria) Take a shot for my nephew. Eat more food. We just grilled more meat. There’s more red wine…-

When we were all finished (more or less) eating, I helped to gather all the teachers for a picture. After the photo op, they proceeded to have a “teachers baptism” which apparently they do every year for all the new teachers. I was the only new teacher. I don’t know how common this tradition is across the whole country, but I appreciated it none-the-less. I felt welcomed and a part of their school community. This is kind of how it went…

-Wait here. Run through this hand tunnel. Bend over. Don’t bend over. O.K. bend over. Money thrown in a bowl of water. Freshly cut branch dipped in water. Speech. Splish. Splash. Applause.-

But why read about it when you can watch the whole thing?! Thanks to my partner teacher Oxana for filming the it all.

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Fist Bell

School began on September 2, and it was quite the show. I showed up looking like Sailor Moon with a conservative, khaki pleated skirt, white blouse, navy blazer and my fall boots (it was a chilly day), whilst all my soon to be students all looked so fly. I still can't get over all the little boys in their three piece suits and shiny shoes. The little girls all wore white stockings, big bows and pleated skirts. I fit right in with mine.

The tradition all across Moldova, and I quite like it, is to have the oldest students welcome the newest students into the school. It's quite the spectacle, and I'm happy to have captured it on video for your viewing pleasure. The 12th graders parade all the little 1st graders around for the onlookers, listen to some speeches and then walk the youngins to their classes.

In addition to the parade, the Mayor, local Eastern Orthodox Priest, School Director, some 11th grade students, and a couple other guests spoke. There was a karaoke rendition (as per norm at any event here) of a Romanian song and some DJ jams thrown down.

After the "first bell" was rang, the students all went to their home room class where they had an hour of an introductory lessons on Moldovan traditions. See ya tomorrow kids.



What followed next... was the teachers celebration.

The Baptists

My first weekend in Ciorescu, I was helping Lilia (mama gaza mea) in the garden and mentioned that I wanted to go to the Baptist church in town. She grabbed the phone and called the neighbor. Then, we walked to the edge of the yard, I met the neighbor, and we made plans for church the following morning (Lilia translated it all to me that is).  Sunday morning, I was eating breakfast after giving myself the time to make something savory when Lilia told me I was supposed to meet up with Lidia (neighbor) half an hour earlier than we had discussed. I sucked down what was remaining of my eggs and toast and rushed to get ready. We met on the corner and walked to the bus stop together. She asked me questions that I didn’t understand and I asked her questions that she didn’t understand. Goodness I need more practice in this language I thought. Thirty minutes into the service, when another member was translating the half Russian half Romanian service into full Russian for her, I realized she only spoke Russian. They call this amalgamation of language “Moldavian”… sometimes I feel like I’m learning three languages all at once.

During the worship part of the service, I sung along as I looked over the shoulder of the woman next to me. She sounded like a mix between the dying rooster outside my bedroom window and an opera singer that specializes in trills (I’ve included a music clip for my readers enjoyment- follow this link https://soundcloud.com/larissa-glover/church-singing).  I didn’t sound any better. When she stopped singing to take a breath or correct her place in the hymnal, everyone stopped with her. In light of all the worship “shows” I’ve witnessed and been a part of in the States, I really appreciated the simplicity and rawness of this group just singing praise together.

After the service, the trill specialist (also my personal translator, she spoke Russian, Romanian, English and some German) told the congregation I was working in the health clinic in town and would be a member of their service. Yikes! I was just visiting. I corrected her (we had just talked about my being an English teacher at the school in town) and politely said I was only visiting but really appreciated them letting me be a part of their congregation that day. The whole experience was a good one, but one I’m anxious to repeat for fear of being committed to the church against my will.

Official

The last couple weeks have been big weeks. I attended an event celebrating Peace Corps past 20 years in the country. If I wasn't encouraged to be a part of this before, I am now. The first American Ambassador as well at PC's first country director were in attendance. I swore in as an official volunteer, did a dance, sang a song and then moved to my permanent site. My Costesti host family was in attendance as well as my host family for the next two years and my school's director. I felt like the kid with the huge extended family that goes to all the events I'm a part of. It was awesome.

Justine Murray (first Country Director in Moldova), Me, Janet Utecht (current Country Director in Moldova)

Proof that I finished Pre-Service Training. Thank God that's over!

Some of the most wonderful people I have met here. Elena and Mihai Borta were my host parents during Pre-Service training. They fattened me up with good food and lots of red house wine. They encouraged me with their high spirits and hard working resilience. They supported me through rough days and took care of me like my own family would. 

Americanca on the Routiera

Some days pass with no significant cultural mishaps, other days seem to snowball with them. Last night was an evening of routiera cultural faux pas. While I have experienced a significant amount of professional development since beginning this Peace Corps adventure, timeliness has yet to be a strong suit of mine. I often catch myself waiting for the last routiera to get home, crossing my fingers that the public transportation is reliable enough to stick to their schedule. I didn’t mean to stay as long at the café as I did, but catching up on a Skpye date with my sis took precedence. Next thing I knew, it was 9:20 and I hadn’t finished my internet chores for my lesson. The last ride home, so I’d heard and understood, was at 10:00. I wrapped my work up quickly and walked to the “bus stop”, which really just means anywhere along the road that the routiera will pass by. Routiera’s stop for any pedestrian that waves them down, full or not… but more often than not, packed. I got there early (as I really didn’t want to have to call a cab) and ended up chatting with three Moldovan men that were sitting on a bench where I intended to catch my ride. It’s not typical, nor very accepted, for women to speak to men (and vise versa, but men seem to have a little more social freedom in this standard) unless they already know each other. But, I wanted to make sure there was indeed one last routiera headed to Costești, so I asked them what they knew about it. I got an affirmative ”da”, and upon hearing my accent, some more questions... One gentleman spoke in Romanian (we’ll call him Man 1), while the other spoke in broken English (Man 2), the third guy just sat listening and laughing...

Man 1: What’s your name?

Me: Larissa.

Man 2: Do you have a boyfriend?

Me: Yes. (I’m aweful at lying, but in such cases it can save so much hassle).

Man 1: Larissa, do you live in Costești?

Me: Yes.

Man 2: You are very interesting, I want speak with you more, what your number is?

Me: I don’t give it to people I don’t know.

Man 2: But, I’m interesting in speaking more with you, we can grab coffee beer?

Me: I’m really busy.

Man 1: Larissa, how do you like Moldova?

Me: I like it.

Man 1: Larissa, how long will you stay in Moldova?

Me: Two years.

Man 2: (with gestures) We can grab a beer coffee.

Me: No thanks, but I will say hello if I ever see you again.

Man 1: Larissa, do you play sports?

Me: Yes. –we spoke about sports for a moment-

Man 2: Let’s grab coffee or beer. You’re number you give me.

Me: No

Man 2: You put number in your phone and call you me for drink.

Me: (slightly exasperated) Ok... but don’t be dissappointed when I don’t call you.

Man 2: (after dictating his number to me) Now call me so I have number your.

Me: Ha, no. I don’t want to give you my number.

... this continued for a good 20 minutes while the routiera was unforunately late. When it finally did come speeding my way, I almost missed it forgetting to wave it down. I was so relieved to catch it, I immediatley jumped on and shut the door behind me. We didn’t move. There were several people saying something to me in Romanian to which I dumbly replied ”ce?” (what?) several times in confusion. Finally someone spurted out ”open the door” in English. Oops. After I let the passenger off that I was accidently holding hostage, I climbed back into the bus and kept myself silently and sheepishly wedged into the corner. At the next stop, I couldn’t find the handle to let more passengers off for a some akward seconds, but eventually released more of my unintenional hostages. On the way back into the routiera, I hit my head on the doorway like a dork and just tried to slink back into my corner. The passengers had a better place for me though, and wedged me into the middle of them all with little options of things to hold onto. I spent the rest of the ride trying to brace myself with a hand on the ceiling while the routiera sped along dodging potholes and flying over road bumps. (I think I’ll try my luck at surfing after all this balance training on public transportation in Moldova.) In the center of Costești, the routiera cleared out so there were one or two seats available. As I went to sit down, there was a woman hoarding two seats by leaning into the second seat with a straight arm and a fist in the center of the seat I wanted. I thought to myself ”lady, I am over this routiera ride and I will sit on you if you don’t move that arm”. And that’s exactly what I did. She promptly removed her fist from my newly claimed seat, and I felt no remorse. Home felt nice when I finally got there.

            Another Rountiera moment. One packed morning on the routiera, my backpack was taking up an offensive amount of space as I was isle surfing between the seats. I slipped it off to hold it in front of me, but another passenger offered to hold it for me. I aquisced and handed over the bag stuffed with my laptop, iphone, kindle, and Peace Corps material for training. ”Hello stranger, please allow me to intrust you with my most valuable possessions and important points of contact to home”.  The ride commenced and I hardly thought about it I was satisfied just balancing and people watching. We came to one of the final stops and almost all the passengers exited. Before I knew it, the woman that was holding my bag was squeezing by me. I had a second of panic before she told me she left the bag in the seat. All was well, and I took the seat my bag was left in. Perhaps not the wisest decision made here, but the woman was a local Costeștian (new word) and I often recognize her around my house and in the village. My assumption is that she recognized me and just wanted to lend a helping hand. Risk gone good. May that always be the case. (Don’t worry Mom and Dad, I am practicing safety despite your judgements of this story J)

          

Customer Service and Getting Around

Ninety-five percent of our time in pre-service training is spent in Costesți, so I try to make the most of my days spent in the capital. After eight hours of lectures and information insemination, I try to explore a little or grab a drink with a current volunteer to get a better feel for PC in Moldova. Chișinau also has a lot things that are not available in the villages (Walmart has yet to globalize Moldova), so I like to take advantage of already being in the city and save a shopping trip. The only two things I really wanted were a blow dryer (gotta meet the Moldovan standards of being put together) and a yoga mat (sitting all day hurts my body).

I started with the hair dryer. All electronics are conveniently sold in one store. If you want a refrigerator or a cell phone, a curling iron or an electric kettle (love those), there’s a one-stop shop for you. I found the store, not too far from the farmer’s market (piața in Romanian) and decided on the cheapest but sturdiest looking blow dryer. I told one of the wandering clerks which one I wanted and he want to get it. He told me how much it was and I pulled out my bani to pay, but he just handed me a slip of paper (without the blow dryer), said something inaudible to me and pointed towards a window with another employee sitting behind it. I walked over to the window, assumedly handed the woman behind it my slip of paper, then watched her rifle through it and stamp a couple things. I tried to hand her the money as well, but was once again sent elsewhere in the store. I ended up at a counter next to the big screen T.V.’s with yet another clerk shuffling through my papers, making stamps and signatures and who knows what else.  I was however at the end because he had me also sign the papers, plugged my blow dryer in to assure it worked, handed me the warranty, let me pay and then sent me on my way. Whew, sales clerk marathon over.

The yoga mat was easier. Found sports store. Found yoga mats in sports store. Asked sales clerk how much they were. Justified the price. Choose a color (purple, this was the most difficult part of the whole transaction). Paid the same sales clerk that had been helping me the whole time. Left with purple yoga mat in hand. All in Romanian! Who has two thumbs and was super proud of herself? This girl.

Another afternoon, I was searching the main street in Chișinau for the post office. I couldn’t find it and stopped to ask a sweet looking older couple if they knew where it was. Mind you, this was five or so weeks into language training. They were pointing and using words I had never heard. I felt like an idiot because by this point I had already learned my directions. I thought for a moment, then asked them if they were speaking in Russian. Bingo! Turns out they understood my Romanian, but couldn’t speak it? Or perhaps my Romanian was so fantastic they thought I also spoke Russian (dream big). We laughed about the language barrier and I headed off in the direction they had gestured. I found it after a local heard me asking someone else in Romanian and asked me in English what I was looking for. Mission accomplished and worth every moment.