Closing of the Year

This week has been one of lasts: last Monday teaching, last Tuesday in Smolyan, last Wednesday night in Bulgaria. But in truth, my time here has been winding down gradually for a while.

In May, my school held its annual Festival of Languages. This is the highlight of the year for the school. When I started in September, the kids were still talking about last year’s Festival.

Students as modern-day gangsters come into contact with a Bulgarian national here, Vasil Levski, who has traveled forward in time.

The festival challenges each class to perform a play, 14 classes in all. Some perform in English, others in German, Bulgaria, hybrids of two or three. One group performed a telenovela-style play in Spanish. In the weeks before the play, regular class time turned into rehearsal time. The day of the festival, regular school was cancelled and the school met at Smolyan’s theater to watch the student plays. I acted as a judge, conferring with the other teachers, two 12^th graders and the Principal on which plays and performers were award worthy. The plays themselves ranged from classical literature and fairy tales to Bulgarian history, morality tales to exciting bank robberies. A theater full of kids mouthing along to Thriftshop while everyone takes their seats, traditional folkdance and bagpipe to start off the festival, electric guitars in the intermission. It was a surreal day that marked the beginning of the end.

Since the Festival and the abundance of days off in May that followed, the attention span of my classes shrank dramatically. Some days felt more like babysitting than anything else.

The 12^th grade classes officially left school in mid-May, though most had stopped coming many weeks before. Their school-leaving ceremony (formal graduation wasn’t until June) was a celebration and a fashion-show. The only part of the ceremony I could really understand was the chant from one to twelve that each class yelled when they took the stage, and chanted sporadically throughout. The Principal led the school in the horo, and when the 12^th graders left, they did so in cars that honked constantly through the night, cruising around town and cheering.

Saying goodbye to the 12th graders

Now, this week, it really is the end. I’ve been saying a lot of goodbyes and some have been better than others. There are classes and individuals I will really truly miss, but it would be a nostalgia-stoked delusion to say I will miss it all, or miss them all. It would be sin of omission to pretend that there weren’t days this year when I would walk into an empty or half-empty classroom and a chorus of hallelujah would play itself out in my head. But there are also classes I missed when they were inexplicably all absent, and many kids to whom I wish I could’ve said goodbye.

The classes I had with the 8^th graders this year had by far the best dynamics, and were the most fun to teach. Though their English level was lower, they always seemed the most willing to listen, the most willing to participate, and the most willing to reciprocate by teaching me. It might be a product of the age, and that’s something that surprised me—that I would connect most with the youngest of the lot. Those classes have not surrendered to the teenage ideology that apathy is cool, but maybe that is still in store for them. I hope they resist, if it is.

Saying goodbye to some awesome 8th graders

But in every class, there were a handful of students I enjoyed getting to know. The students who would help maintain control in the classroom, or who would simply keep talking to me when the others turned their backs to play cards, or the ones who showed up to watch Doctor Who when the rest of the class had stopped coming forever ago. I probably won’t forget the kid who threatened to kill me, or the ones who threw fireworks out the window, or continued to yell out racial and homophobic slurs after asking them not too, but maybe I will forget them. The impressions that those students made aren’t permanent. The connections and good memories I did make with students this school year are indelible.

 

May, in photos

My school held a festival of languages, which started out with some traditional music.

One of the original plays put on by the German-language 9th graders. So many guns and Arab-stereotypes.

Some cows grazing in Vratsa.

A view of Vratsa from the hill we hiked.

The school-leaving ceremony for the 12th graders in front of the school.

Students dancing the horo with the principal and teachers of the school.

My mentor teachers and I in the break room.

Our tumultuous off-road ride to Buzludzha.

A view out over central Bulgaria

The disintegrating communist monument of Buzludzha.

Sticking my head out the shining red star of communism.

Another Letter to Next Year’s Fulbrighter

Dear Future Fulbrighter,

I’ve yet to hear from you. Perhaps you are busy preparing to graduate college, or maybe you are second-guessing this whole Fulbright thing and haven’t yet decided to commit. That’s ok, it’s a decision worth sleeping on. I myself am only occupied by job-searching and The West Wing, so here are some more thoughts from me to you.

After multiple attempts at cyber-staking, I have concluded that you do not have a Facebook or you have made your Facebook unsearchable. Privacy is awesome (except, you know, to stalkers). There is a Fulbright Bulgaria 2013-2014 Facebook group. Join it. The comradery is indispensable. As a group you will groan at student antics and you will revel in your teachable moments and simply put: together is the only way you will make it through.

You will get ripped off by a taxi in Sofia. It is best to accept this now. If you’re lucky it will happen just the once. Over the course of the year you will gradually learn how to avoid it, or even how to argue back when it does happen. When it does, don’t let it get you down. It’s a right of passage of sorts, and getting ripped off by a taxi here is like paying regular cab fare in the States.

Get a hold of the Peace Corps Cookbook for Bulgaria (I can send it to you if you’d like). It has translations for common ingredients and tools, Bulgarian recipes, and American recipes using Bulgarian ingredients. I mean, food blogs are great, but it gets frustrating scrolling through recipe after recipe that uses instruments or ingredients I don’t have (or can’t find easily) here in Smolyan: arugula, coconut milk, sweet potatoes, parmesan, pinto/black beans. The Peace Corps cookbook allowed me to scroll through ideas that were new and interesting and still feasible here in Bulgaria.

BYOTP. Everywhere, but especially to school.

I have more to say about the students in an upcoming post. You’ll notice I’ve refrained from saying much about them on my blog, which is a strategy to protect them (from being unfairly judged in my own frustrations and culture shock) and to protect myself (as blogs and social media that dealt with students often came under heavy scrutiny from schools, parents, Fulbright). They are worth knowing, though, so I’ll go into greater detail about teaching and the school community soon.

Until then,

Ariel

An Open Letter to the Next American in Smolyan

Dear Future Fulbrighter:

I address this letter to you, but it is my hope that some of the advice contained herein will be ultimately helpful to other Fulbrighters throughout Bulgaria, though some of it pertains particularly to Smolyan.

First of all, congratulations. By dint of your being awarded a Fulbright, I can infer that you are a rather accomplished student and individual and that you are probably not much accustomed to failure. This is about to change.

If you have prior teaching experience, than I might be preaching to the choir, but here goes: teaching is damned hard work filled with failure, but also awesome moments and some pretty cool kids. But however much the winning of a Fulbright has inflated your ego, the actual execution of your Fulbright grant is sure to deflate it again. Furthermore, if this is the year you expect to learn to become a teacher, don’t. No one here is going to teach you how to be a teacher. Read some books. Prepare for trial and error.

Though that is a rather grim note to start on, it is altogether necessary. Do not forget that what you are signing on for is both a job and an experience. A transformative experience. A difficult, lonely, transcendent, beautiful, gritty, crushing, uplifting experience.

Smolyan is a beautiful town. When I was given information on my placement, I google-image searched “Smolyan Bulgaria” to find lots of pictures of bears. If you are also getting this same result, friend me on Facebook and look through my pictures instead. I have never seen a bear here. Or a deer, for that matter. I saw a squirrel, once, fleetingly.

There is no general Fulbright-Bulgaria experience. Over the course of your next year, try not to compare your experience with others’. Every school has its ups and downs and what is expected of every Fulbrighter is quite different depending on the school. Lucky you will be blessed with English teaching colleagues who are sweet and funny and compassionate and who will bring you along for lunch when your free-hour matches theirs.

Travel. Smolyan is isolating. The nearest teaching assistant is four hours away. Sofia is five. Get out of town. Smolyan is beautiful, but you wont find much here once the winter sets in, and even though it takes so much time and effort, you will remember the weekends you spent with friends, and forget the hours spent on the bus.

Things you should bring: yaktrax, something for motion-sickness (even if you’ve never been a smidge motion-sick in your life), Tylenol-cold (or whatever your preferred cold/flu aid), hand sanitizer, a kindle (my best friend in Smolyan), a fitted sheet, long underwear, Ziploc bags, a VGA to mini-display port adaptor if you have a Mac and want to used the projector, portable speakers (I’m pretty sure the Spanish teacher is sick of me borrowing hers), taco seasoning (if you want to try to recreate Mexican food).

Be more proactive than I was. Create opportunities for these students. They will rise to challenges if you find awesome ones to give them. The returning Fulbrighters are impressive people and great teachers. Follow their lead.

Don’t play games with your students until April.

You can find peanut butter, Cheerios, and fresh meat at Billa. Don’t try the instant mashed potatoes, you will only be disappointed.

Don’t plan to go home for Christmas until you know how you feel about Bulgaria. If you are having a hard time with homesickness, with the program, with a long-distance relationship, going home will only make it harder to come back. Take the time to travel. You will make awesome friends here among the other American Fulbrighters. You can travel new places in Europe for less than the price of going home. You will miss home and your family, but you wont go through the heart-wrenching process of leaving once again.

This is not an exhaustive list, and as a disclaimer it was written under the influence of too much caffeine and cold medicine as I try to recover from what might be the seventh cold I’ve had this year. If you have questions, ranging from important to tedium, profound to absurd, please be in touch.

I’d tell you to Get Ready, but you’d really have no idea how.

Ariel

So Holiday Break Begins

The past week at school was a short one. I showed movies in nearly all my classes, sang Christmas carols with fifty 8^th graders for nearly an hour, and discussed the recent Sandy Hook shooting with one class of students. I watched Elf dubbed in Bulgarian, and introduced many to the wonders of Dr. Seuss’ How the Grinch Stole Christmas.

The Christmas tree in Smolyan’s Old Center.

For the more unruly students, though, this week meant talking loudly over the movies, or bursting into the occasional, irrelevant Christmas song to drown out whatever I was saying, leaving early because it’s “just a movie,” and ruining the Christmas decorations in the classrooms and halls. Pieces of ornaments scattered the hallways after students used them like hacky sacks.

Man, teenagers make me tired. Even so, it was fun teaching Mele Kalikimaka to my 8^th graders. I discovered very quickly that I’m a worse singer than I imagined. I hereby apologize to anyone who has ever ridden in a car with me in the last ten years.

Thursday afternoon I bought a Christmas present for Hannah, set off with my luggage to the bus station, and carefully made my way along the slippery walkway downtown. I was rather proud of myself for having not fallen on the ice, and… well, we all know what pride goeth before.

Winter in Smolyan.

I got to Sofia where I had my best two taxi-cab encounters, yet. Taking taxis stresses me out ever since the one time I was scammed, but most of my drivers have been great, and taking the taxi usually raises my spirits because it gives me a chance to practice my Bulgarian. On the way to a Fulbrighter’s apartment, the driver was teaching me phrases like “the cat eats the mouse.” The next morning I found myself with a driver who speaks better English than most of my students and that is not a bad way to start the day.

Anyway, my one night in Sofia was a pleasant way to begin my vacation. Several of us were crashing overnight in the living room of a Fulbright researcher, and we entertained ourselves with homemade wine, Serbian rakia, and geography quizzes on Sporcle. Nerds abroad.

Now I’m in Malta. It’s sunny and warm and I feel the energy returning to me as my depleted stores of Vitamin D are refilled.

Blue skies and blue water on a Maltese December day.

Merry Christmas, all.

English Teacher Training for Christmas

After a difficult week at school, I left before my classes on Wednesday to take the last bus north to Sofia. The cold, lurching mini bus got me to the capital in record time, but my efforts to grade during the bus ride were thwarted by the onset of motion sickness. Though I have never been one to get car sick, each trip I take out of the Rhodopes grates my resistance down a bit further.

Mini-buses wait for departure at Smolyan bus station.

 
Wednesday night we enjoyed a low-key Christmas party with a White Elephant gift exchange. Smolyan has been slow to decorate, and so this was the most Christmas-y I had felt in a while. The whole weekend was a reminder that Christmas is, in fact, around the corner. Sofia’s streets were lined with lights and Christmas trees. Astra Zeneca, the pharmaceutical company, even sponsored a blinding blue and white tree near the National Opera. A small Christmas market sat in the plaza outside the National Theater and mulled wine made the below-freezing night easier to survive.

A German-style Christmas Market in the Bulgarian capital.

 

 

At the Christmas Market in Sofia.

The point of our gathering this weekend was for an extra day of training, a desperately needed day of training. When we all realized how far in over our heads we were at orientation in September, the Bulgarian Fulbright commission responded to our concerns by reaching out to an English Language Fellow in Bosnia, and the teachers of the American College of Sofia. Over the course of a 10-hour day, we discussed grading and evaluation techniques, classroom management and student/teacher relationships.

On the one hand, this was a much-needed experience. On the other, being at the American College of Sofia and hearing from the teachers there made me feel that much worse, because so many of my frustrations stem from resource availability. When I say that I struggle to teach “English through Literature,” it’s not primarily because I don’t know what authors to use or how to really get my students to connect with Shakespeare, it’s because we don’t have books to begin with. How do I teach literature with a whiteboard? Enrollment dropped at my school this year, I heard, and since money for the school budget is per student, there isn’t even money for heat.

Friday we spent the day in Blagoevgrad at the American University of Bulgaria (AUBG). We toured the facilities, led by the President’s wife (an Oregon Duck), with some of the schools admissions and alumni development staff. It seems like a great school, and Blagoevgrad definitely feels like a college town. After seeing AUBG’s facilities and having lunch with staff, we went downstairs to see their English Language Institute, a school that teaches everything from basic English to TOEFL and SAT preparation. Their teachers were made up of English and Bulgarian native speakers, and it was their perspective that I found most helpful. They spoke about how their TOEFL and SAT students struggle the most with reading and (relatedly) writing, because many students aren’t in the habit of reading anything longer than a Facebook status. They struggle with summarizing a piece or identifying the meaning of a passage. These are simple things that I know I can work on with my students and feel like I’m doing something with purpose.

The rest of the weekend was spent chilling (literally—it got down to 10F one of the days) with other Fulbrighters, eating ethnic foods we can’t get in our towns, and seeing the Hobbit. Many Fulbrighters left for home this weekend, since their classes mostly do term testing before the holiday break. I’m back in Smolyan until Thursday when I’ll head up to Sofia for my flight to Malta on Friday.

Celebrating Saint Nicholas

Today, Dec. 6^th, is the feast day of St. Nicholas and name-day for all those named Nikola, Nikolai, Nikolina, and Nikoleta. (Честит Имен ден!/Happy Name Day!)

This was the largest name day celebration I’ve seen so far, with four or five teachers bringing in cakes, cookies, biscuits, tea and coffee, plus one teacher bringing in chocolates and sweets to mark her birthday.

Perhaps I should take a step back. In the U.S., on your birthday you might expect to receive cake, candies and various treats from others, but in Bulgaria the roles are reversed. On birthdays and name days, including the birthdays and name days of your loved ones, and big life events like moving to a new house or apartment, you treat those around you. Needless to say, there is almost always something to snack on in the teacher’s lounge, and I have never had more chocolate in my life.

The atmosphere was jolly, and if ever I was without something in my mouth, another teacher would implore me to eat more. “Ariel, come! Zapovyadaite!”

The patron saint of sailors and fisherman, the traditional meal on this day includes fish. Yesterday when I stopped at the store to get butter (which is local and kept in the frozen section), I noticed a pile of fresh carp in an ice bath sitting a top the low freezer where whole frozen fish are usually kept. Carp was one of the specials today at the restaurant across the street from the school, but it was sold out by the time my colleagues and I arrived for lunch at 12:45.

So, this wasn’t the St. Nicholas story you were anticipating, was it? Name day cake and carp. Those aren’t my associations with St. Nicholas either.

I’m told the name day for Ivan is even bigger, since it is one of the most popular names in Bulgaria.

Want to know your name day? Check out this website. Despite Ariel being a Hebrew name, there’s a name day for it in the Slovak Republic in April, and my middle name, Corinna, is celebrated in Italy in May. Most of Bulgaria’s big name days are in the winter; historically, farmers needed something to do during those cold winters of frozen ground, so why not have celebrations to look forward to? I’ve decided December 10^th will be my unofficial name day, so I can have an excuse to bring treats and baked goods for the teachers who have been so good to me!

Честит първи сняг — Happy First Snow

Last night, a Facebook status of one of my students alerted me to the fact that snow had arrived in Smolyan. Minutes before I had planned to crawl into bed, I was filled with the giddy excitement of a six-year-old. When I awoke, the world was covered with a half-inch of white and my walk to school was colder and more slippery than usual.

Of course, I have been warned by many that winter in Smolyan is brutal. I have been told to prepare for the worst, mentally, physically, meteorologically. Although I know that I may eventually tire of the snow and ice, I don’t see why that should hamper the joy I feel today. I can’t imagine being so jaded that I would be unmoved by the magic of snowfall.

I have also lived the majority of my life in places where snowfall lasts a maximum of two weeks and we spend much of that time enjoying the freedom of Snow Days (aka not school days). So… there’s that.

I was greeted today with “happy first snow,” a seasonal greeting we should use more in the U.S.! (Or, I don’t know, maybe it is used in places where 1. There is snow, and 2. It is guaranteed that the first snow is also not the last.)

I also learned a funny expression this weekend—when it rains and shines at the same time, a bear is getting married. Folklore is awesome. When looking for more about this on the internet, I found myself on the Radio Bulgaria website, a repository of information with a large folklore category, and in English! What kind of symbolism do walnuts have in Bulgarian folklore? What legends are associated with the mountains of Bulgaria? I don’t know, but Radio Bulgaria wants to tell me!

In classroom related news, I have been showing a powerpoint I created about my high school. It’s gone over really well, and all of those photos I took for yearbook were recycled for educational purposes. It is this presentation that has revealed to me a fundamental flaw in my students’ learning, however. Every class, without fail, has used the past tense when they clearly should have used the present. Upon seeing a photo of me all dolled up for prom, my students exclaim, “Wow! You were so pretty!” This is a grammatical error that clearly needs correcting.

15 Week Reflection: A Thanksgiving

Today, I counted the weeks on my calendar. I have been here 15 weeks, with 31 more to go. One third of the way through the school year, and with the holiday season starting, it seems that a post of gratitude would be timely. Without further ado, 10 things for which I find myself quite grateful.

1. I am grateful to the Bulgarian Fulbright Commission, the America for Bulgaria Foundation, the International Institute of Education and the U.S. State Department for sponsoring this program and giving me this opportunity to live, learn and teach abroad.

2. I am surprised how thankful I am for the chance to live alone. It was so difficult at first, especially after four years of living in beautiful dorms with my closest friends. I’ve gotten used to the quiet, though, and I actually enjoy the freedom to explore my Self without the pressure of people around me with solidified ideas of who I am. I’ve discovered that I like mushrooms and found that I actually do still love Harry Potter. I also love not wearing pants.

3. I’m grateful for technologically adept family and friends. It’s easy to catch my parents on Skype, and even my grandmother video-calls me once in awhile. It was great (if a little sad) to see my whole family on Thanksgiving via Skype. And, special thanks to all the teachers in my social network who offer advice, guidance and ideas for my teacher-troubles. It’s a virtual safety net that makes the world seem a little smaller.

4. At this exact moment I’m very thankful for 8tracks.com. Pandora and Spotify don’t work overseas, and my music collection on this computer is pitifully small. 8tracks is filling my need for background study music, dance around and sing along music, nostalgic 90’s country, and now Christmas music.

5. I’m grateful for the many amazing colleagues, co-workers, bosses and mentors that I’ve had, past and present. A job application recently caused me to reflect on all the people I’ve worked with, and I’m so lucky to have met so many supportive and intelligent people through jobs and internships. I’m so thankful to have good relationships with my co-teachers and mentors at my school this year as I struggle through a new job and cultural differences.

Hiking with a teacher and some students last weekend.

6. I’m thankful to have an awesome cohort of Fulbrighters across Bulgaria. They are a sounding board, a well of ideas, great hosts and travelers, and wonderful company. I was delighted to have three of them come to my apartment last night for a belated Thanksgiving celebration and Settlers of Catan.

Photo courtesy of fellow Fulbrighter, Juliana

Youtubing after Thanksgiving dinner

7. So grateful to all those Americans in Bulgaria writing about their experience on the web. Carolyn, Sophia, Whitney, Kate, and Brian’s blogs have been great resources to have and a pleasure to read!

8. I’m thankful for all those who supported me as a writer, including: my mother, who took me to the library; Mrs. Sorber, who challenged 4^th grade me to write my own “Dear America” style story; Mrs. Charley, who gave an unforgettable demonstration of “Show, Don’t Tell” to my 7^th grade class and forced us to memorize our library card numbers; Nina Revoyr, who taught an awesome literature class at Pitzer my first year in college; Helena Maria Viramontes, for giving me feedback on my thesis and pushing me to write better short stories; Professor Warren Liu, who re-introduced me to poetry and gave thoughtful responses to my thesis; and Professor Kimberly Drake for giving thorough critiques of all my writing, advising/supporting my self-designed major, and being a great model of excellence and badassery.

9. I’m grateful to be able to live comfortably. What we’re paid as Fulbrighters is not much, compared to what we could make in the U.S., but here in Bulgaria it is more than enough for life’s necessities, some luxuries, and travel. It’s a strange experience to feel a part of one socioeconomic class in the U.S. and of a more privileged one here in Bulgaria.

10. I’m so thankful for the Oregon Digital Library Consortium and the ability to read awesome books for free on my Kindle!

The Election from my Bulgarian Classrooms

I had the chance to speak with my classes over the last two weeks about the U.S. presidential election. While I stumbled over explaining the electoral college, and floundered when trying to find anything nice (or even unbiased) to say about the Republican platform, I enjoyed the opportunity to talk about the political process with my students.

Although Bulgaria, like most of Eastern Europe, is not known as a haven of racial tolerance, most of my students and colleagues seem to think Obama is a pretty cool guy. This is based more on his charisma, charm and good looks than his policies, at least where my students are concerned. When asking some of my 9^th grade students how they would describe it was “intelligent, handsome, wealthy… a gangsta.” I also had to give the “why we don’t use the n-word” speech in this same conversation.

There are a couple of students who were not as pro-Obama as their peers. One of my students expressed the belief that Obama was only elected because he was black, because that made him new and exciting and stand out from everyone he was not. Another student approached me after class to tell me that Americans elected Obama because they care more about black people than white people. Another of my students was pro-Obama until I explained that he is in favor of same-sex marriage, unlike Romney. Upon hearing this, the student caused a bit of commotion in the back of the room and immediately became pro-Romney. The discussion was re-routed several times with his questions, like “if gay women are raising a child, who do they call mom?”

Other students asked perceptive questions, like “how do you feel about the changes made since Obama won in 2008?” [though, in more broken English]. They wanted to know about the good and the bad. We talked about drone strikes and the failure to close Guantanamo Bay, in addition to (in my opinion) triumphs like the Fair Pay Act and healthcare reform.

November 5^th, I woke to get ready for school and I hesitated to get online as I usually do in the morning. I was deeply concerned that my Facebook newsfeed would be a series of lamentations over a Romney win. I wondered how I would explain that to my students. After doing the math on the time difference, I figured the election probably hadn’t even been called yet… but Obama had already reached 270 by the time I got online.

I arrived at school to congratulations from students, teachers, even the principal. The U.S. election results had been announced already in the Bulgarian media.

What struck me most about my students’ views on politics was what they were missing: hope. Student after student expressed a disinterest in politics, because things would never really change. They cited corruption and broken promises. I asked those who would be voting in the next election how they would choose a candidate. What kinds of qualities, values or goals would be important? I was told in response that it doesn’t matter who one votes for, they are all the same, all corrupt. Even some of my colleagues chimed in to say that many are disillusioned with Bulgaria’s version of democracy– all the politicians make promises they never fulfill, and so things are, if anything, getting worse in Bulgaria.

This year’s presidential campaign tried my patience. The rivalry between Democrats and Republicans is exhausting. But as mad as it makes me, and as stupid and ineffective as I find all this partisan bull-hockey, I’m glad that people care. I’m glad that so many are invested in our political process. I’m so grateful for a rhetoric of optimism and a hope for change.