A Typical Day... Okay I lied... not so typical

I wrote a blog last Monday about my day. I was trying to illustrate why I feel so crabby and tired at times. It's never just ONE thing. I can deal with one thing. It's always the combination of many things that eventually breaks down my patience or good mood. So here is my ultra-long, extremely detailed blog about my day. 

Hannah's Day in Kokshetau, Kazakhstah: Monday, December 7, 2009

4:00 am             Wake up with sore throat – cannot sleep until 5:30 am.

8:30 am             Finally get up after pressing snooze for over an hour.                                    

9:30 am             Arrive at work half hour after I intended.

10:00 am            Walk down the street to print my lesson plans and visuals after realizing all four computers and printers at work are not working today.

10:30 am            Start English Club #1 of the day. Lesson goes badly and it’s like pulling teeth to get the students to answer a question. Even “How are you?” doesn’t get a response.

11:30 am            47 children ages 7-10 + many parents arrive for my second English Club of the day. The small room hardly holds everyone.

11:31 am            I get frazzled trying to think on my feet. I don’t have the heart to kick anyone out, but I don’t know how to proceed when we can hardly fit standing in the room.

11:32 am            My counterpart comes in and I explain I don’t know what to do with so many children. She takes this as her cue to turn and yell (literally yell) at the children and parents. I timidly stand behind her with a small smile trying to look like a nice person so the children aren’t scared of me.

11:33 am            A sweet little girl asks me I question in Russian. I don’t understand because her hand is over her mouth. She looks uncomfortable, and asks me again. I still don’t understand. She throws up on the floor an inch from my shoes. Now I understand. My counterpart takes her away.

11:34 am            All parents seem to have disappeared now, and I am the only adult in a room of (now 46) children who don’t speak more than 10 words of English and whose names I don’t know or cannot pronounce. And I’m standing right next to a pile of puke. My lesson plan definitely won’t work for 46 children, and my Russian is not good enough to proactively prevent classroom management issues. I seriously contemplate just running, but I can’t get to the door anyway since it’s blocked by children.

11:35 am            I teach half of my original plan. It’s okay, but it’s hard to ensure that all 46 kids are actively participating. I scratch the alphabet and numbers and teach a children’s song and play a game. It ends a bit like a music lesson, but at least the song was in English and the kids were focused, so it counts as English club, right?

12:30 pm            Lesson ends. I breathe. My counterpart comes to tell me I should kick out half the kids. I try to be patient with her fast Russian and intense (harsh) way of talking to me. A parent approaches me to ask a question. She stands too close to my face and talks about how she learned German in school and how she wants her granddaughter to learn English, and how languages are so important and oh, don’t I just have the prettiest eyes, oh it’s so sweet of me to be volunteering, and she keeps talking, and I’m so overwhelmed I just nod and smile and zone out once she gets past the easy words, and soon I hear her talking about the economic crisis and capitalism and I wonder how the heck we got to that topic and what I missed in between.

1:00 pm            I walk home in -14 degree weather. (Yes, Celsius, but it sounds more intense that way.) I’m determined to be positive around my host family. I was already negative all last week. Afterall, how long can I keep claiming I’m just in a bad mood because I’m still “adjusting”?

1:30 pm            I arrive home and joke about my morning with my host mom. We eat lunch, and I am proud of myself for keeping it light and positive.

2:30 pm            I crank up Michael Jackson’s number one hits on my walk back to work to give me energy for two more clubs. Billie Jean is not my lover…

3:30 pm            English Club #3. It’s okay despite being interrupted several times by parents with questions about the English Club schedule. “I know the sign says that the youngest group is before lunch, but that doesn’t work for my child. She’s so smart, and she knows English. She’s already studied two years!” (Of course when I turn to the child and ask How Are You? Or What is your name? They don’t understand a word.)

4:30 pm            Last club of the day! More interruptions by parents asking if I could make exceptions for their children. What is with parents being so pushy and not accepting no?

5:45 pm            A few adults are waiting for me after my lesson to ask about English Clubs. Don’t you ever think about maybe teaching adult classes? Could I pay for lessons? Why can’t I join the children’s lesson? I need to practice English for an exam, what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to practice? I politely explain at least 10 times that it is a children’s center, and while I’d love to teach adults, the center is for kids under 18. It’s not the questions that bother me, it’s the intense attitude they have that makes it seem like it’s my fault my clubs aren’t right for them. I feel so accused by everyone when they ask. I want to remind them that it’s a free club, and I already have 4 options. You cannot ask me to create more clubs!

6:10 pm            I walk home (I listen to Regina Spektor this time) and resolve again that no matter how many things went wrong or irritated me today I cannot let them affect my attitude towards my host family.

7:15 pm            My host dad asks how my day was. I look up the word for overwhelming in the dictionary. Then I slowly start to tell about my day. Then I start getting frustrated that I cannot adequately convey what went wrong with my day in Russian. And suddenly all my strength to stay positive is gone, and I don’t even have the energy left to excuse myself from the table before I start getting upset and start to cry. I tilt my head down and focus on my tea knowing full well that there’s no way I can hide my tears when we’re sitting at a round table with only four people. “Hannetchka,” my host mom says in a sing-song voice. I look up with tears running down my face and laugh and her name for me. She and my host dad quickly start reminiscing how she cried everyday when she first started teaching, and that the beginning is always hard. They keep trying to comfort me, and I’m surprised well it worked. I’m actually feeling better.  

8:57 pm            Our electricity goes out, and I look at my computer to realize I only have 27% of my battery left, and I wasted a lot of writing up this blog.

8:59 pm            My host brother comes in to see what I’m up to since there’s nothing else to do when the electricity goes out. We talk and I teach him a few chords on the guitar by candle and flashlight.

9:33 pm            I realize that despite a frustrating and overwhelming day, I’m still blessed with an amazing host family. I’m still living in another country. I’m still learning a new language. I’m still exploring a new culture. I’m still doing exactly what I wanted. So even though it’s frustrating. I think in two years it will all be worth it.