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Today was a day where “po-smatreem” kicked my butt. Let me explain. Planning my vocal studios and English clubs has been a struggle, because it’s difficult to get much information before the actual class. When I try to ask about things to avoid last-minute chaos, I get the same answer: “Po-smotreem.” (We’ll see.) “How many kids are signed up for my English Club?” Po-smotreem. ‘What age are the kids?” Po-smotreem. “Do they have any English experience?” Po-smotreem. Great, so I’ll plan 90-minute lesson for an unknown amount of children, whose ages may be anywhere from 6 to 20, who may not know the English alphabet or may be near fluent. But, as Peace Corps reminded us relentlessly throughout training, we need to be FLEXIBLE and have a SENSE OF HUMOR. 

After getting repeated “po-smotreem” answers to my questions about vocal studio I decided to be flexible and just “see.” Last Thursday was supposed to be my first studio, but I was told the first time I could just observe the other voice teacher. About five minutes before the lesson my host mom (who works with me) asked if I was going to be teaching myself. I told her I would be observing the other teacher. “No, she’s not here – she’s in Astana.” So that meant I had to teach the lesson myself when I had no clue what they normally did in lessons, what they were singing, or even if they had music anywhere in the organization (which they don’t.) I immediately decided this would be a great answer for an interview in two years when asked about a time I had to be flexible or think on my feet. I was excited to answer, “I had to be flexible when, after studying Russian less than three months I was told I would teach a 90-minute vocal studio in Russian only five minutes before the actual lesson.” Ninety minutes later, after a painfully awkward and just plain bad vocal studio, I decided I could no longer use that answer in an interview. Yes, I was flexible. Yes, I had a sense of humor. But it was a terrible lesson. It was useful only to find out there was no structure for vocal studios, they had no music, and they only want to sing fast, club-style dance or pop music. 

I didn’t panic though – I resolved to have a stellar plan ready for the next studio. All weekend I looked through my iTunes music and tried to think of English songs that were good for beginners but were upbeat and lively. Seeing as I studied classical music and don’t listen to a lot of pop, I did not have a lot of options. Nevertheless I came up with a playlist of possible songs and wrote out a lesson plan. I translated all my directions into Russian, had my host mom correct them, and practiced my Russian instructions. At 3:00 pm I walked into the classroom all ready to teach – a little nervous and excited about my lesson. I walked in to find not one, but TWO other voice teachers and 15 students. I get a little shy around a lot of new people if I have to speak Russian, so instead of asking, “Are you teaching this lesson or am I?” I just sat in the back. I acted like I totally knew what was happening. The first five minutes of the lesson I expected I might be called upon to teach, and that maybe they were just observing. But after 20 minutes of the other teachers leading the class, I decided I was just expected to observe that day. In all honesty, I did not mind (in a chicken kind of way) because I was nervous about teaching anyway. I had just begun to like the idea of watching when the teacher started talking to me in Russian. I couldn’t understand what she was saying and I was getting all frazzled at looking so incompetent in front of the students and the other vocal teacher. Finally I got that she wanted to know what songs I wanted the kids to sing. I asked her the same questions I had asked my counterpart earlier: Do they have any music? How do they normally choose songs? How should I teach a song if I have no music for it and just a recording? (I hate the idea of singing along to a recording.) She didn’t say “po-smotrem,” but the “Whatever you want” answer I got was not a lot better. I don’t really know why I bothered to ask the questions – I knew they didn’t really have any music, but I think a part of me was hoping there was a big library of vocal music someone failed to tell me about. Anyway, after telling me I could do what I wanted she turned the lesson over to me and left. I’ll spare you the rest of the details of the lesson, but it again went bad. I basically threw my plan out the window (it was in my computer bag, but I never even got it out) because I was thrown off course by starting in the middle of the lesson and not having a good Russian conversation and there being twice the amount of students than I had the previous lesson. It just was not a very active or interesting lesson – we hardly sang at all. I felt stupid ending the lesson again saying that next time we’d get more done and sing more now that I have more information. The truth is, I don’t really have that much more information. I could resolve again to make a detailed lesson and practice, but who knows who will be teaching the lesson on Thursday. 

I thought “po-smotrem” may be a good philosophy for life and it would teach me to be flexible. Or I at least thought I could learn to plan and be flexible. I’m sure I’ll figure out the balance after two years of “po-smotrem” answers. But right now after only two weeks, I’m still struggling. It’s just tough to plan lessons that are engaging for beginning singers who are 14-17 years old. Even in English they look at you like you’re an idiot sometimes, because they just have that attitude. But it especially comes across that way if you’re not confident with your language and your lesson plan has gone out the window. 

I wish I could have a happy ending to this rant, but unfortunately that’s not the case. Maybe in a week or two I’ll blog “Po-smotrem: Part 2 – the Moral of the Story.” For now I’ll conclude my blog the way it started. Today po-smotrem kicked my butt.