It's been a wonderful, satisfying, lively, but somehow peaceful end to this year. School was over last Friday but I had to go in several times this week to pack boxes and download my personal files from the school server. This morning I walked along with two Ukrainian staff members, the accountant and an administrator.
"School's out, why are you here?" they asked. "I've got to finish up a few things. It's easier to work when the kids aren't here." "It's easier to work when the TEACHERS aren't here," they said, and we all laughed. Complaining, picky, critical ex-pat teachers (as some of us are) must be an annoyance for these local staff members. They're paid a pittance compared to what we get (between $200-$400/month); there must be resentment, but since I don't know the language I don't hear about it.
All this week I kept running into people who dragged me off to tell me stories. (you could say "gossip" but I prefer "stories.") Some of these encounters seemed more than coincidental, more like providential. For example, Pat and Roman were flying to Lviv on either Monday or Tuesday, I wasn't sure which. They were my first and have been among my best friends this year; I really wanted to see them before they left. I tried calling them on Sunday, no answer, dang.
On Monday, I visited Michael and Masha and their new baby Andrew, or "Androoshka" or "Andrivska" these loving Russian diminutives. When I left their apartment, Michael walked out with me to direct me to the metro. Along came Pat and Roman, WAY out of their usual "tunnel" between school and their home. They'd tried to call me all day Sunday, but we missed each other. Now here we were. We all turned around and went back to Michael's and Masha's.
Serendipity or providence? "was MORE than wonderful" as Father Guido Sarducci used to say on Saturday Night Live.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Many different English
Graham, the librarian, is from Norfolk UK. He has this fascinating, mostly incomprehensible, accent, but I usually understand him because I hang out in the library and hear him all the time.
One of my grade 5 students, finally showing some verbal English skills, asked me "Ms. Panneton, English in US, different English in England? different language, England, US?" "No," I told him, "it's the same language, some different words, different accents, it's all English."
Taras was puzzled. "But Mr. Graham in library, he speak English, but I no understand him!"
I told Graham about this, was momentarily worried that he'd be offended, but he laughed.
He and his wife Sue taught in the Canary Islands for several years. They're fluent in Spanish. I've been trying to get Graham to speak Spanish in a Norfolk accent. He refused until the end-of-year picnic and a few beers.
Photo at left is Graham with Manuel, the Spanish teacher from Guatemala, and me, listening to Graham speaking Norfolk Spanish.
One of my grade 5 students, finally showing some verbal English skills, asked me "Ms. Panneton, English in US, different English in England? different language, England, US?" "No," I told him, "it's the same language, some different words, different accents, it's all English."
Taras was puzzled. "But Mr. Graham in library, he speak English, but I no understand him!"
I told Graham about this, was momentarily worried that he'd be offended, but he laughed.
He and his wife Sue taught in the Canary Islands for several years. They're fluent in Spanish. I've been trying to get Graham to speak Spanish in a Norfolk accent. He refused until the end-of-year picnic and a few beers.
Photo at left is Graham with Manuel, the Spanish teacher from Guatemala, and me, listening to Graham speaking Norfolk Spanish.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Housing and dysentery
My school here in Kyiv arranges housing for the ex-pat teachers, which is typical of international schools. Departing teachers usually "will" their apartments to teachers who are staying. For example, next year Trevor is moving into Larissa's place, Heather is moving into Paul's place, and Patty is moving into Charaine's place.
This is the first year that Igor my landlord has rented to a teacher from the school. It's a good connection for a landlord---reliable income in U.S. dollars, tenants who (usually) don't trash the place, and you never have to find a tenant again; the school does it for you.
I've been very lucky this year both in my apartment and my landlord. Everyone has heard about Igor. My friend Victoria has been to my place several times and decided she'd like to move in after I leave.
This was good for everyone: me, because I could leave stuff behind that future generations of teachers could use; Igor, to have another reliable tenant; the school, to have Victoria's old apartment available for a new teacher; and Victoria, because Igor said he would raise the rent only $50/month. Also, she could move stuff into my place before she goes back to the U.S. for the summer.
So Victoria hauled suitcases and boxes to my apartment last Sunday. On Tuesday, Igor told the school that he was raising the rent by $600/month.
My wonderful landlord changed his stripes! I was so upset and disillusioned (when I called to protest, he told me "no signed contract! this is not illegal!") that even though I haven't been able to flush my toilet for a week (gotta pour buckets of H2O down it instead), I haven't called him to ask for repairs.
Not very smart considering that dysentery has been going around the school because a sewage pipe broke and leaked all over the carpet in the music room where little children were sitting. And I'm a delicate flower when it comes to raw sewage and digestive systems.
Infrastucture in this country is a weak point. "I have high-speed internet access but can't flush my toilet" I've been telling people.
Guess I'll have to call Igor. He did find another apartment for Victoria, at the original agreed-upon rent, and she says she likes it more than mine. Good.
This is the first year that Igor my landlord has rented to a teacher from the school. It's a good connection for a landlord---reliable income in U.S. dollars, tenants who (usually) don't trash the place, and you never have to find a tenant again; the school does it for you.
I've been very lucky this year both in my apartment and my landlord. Everyone has heard about Igor. My friend Victoria has been to my place several times and decided she'd like to move in after I leave.
This was good for everyone: me, because I could leave stuff behind that future generations of teachers could use; Igor, to have another reliable tenant; the school, to have Victoria's old apartment available for a new teacher; and Victoria, because Igor said he would raise the rent only $50/month. Also, she could move stuff into my place before she goes back to the U.S. for the summer.
So Victoria hauled suitcases and boxes to my apartment last Sunday. On Tuesday, Igor told the school that he was raising the rent by $600/month.
My wonderful landlord changed his stripes! I was so upset and disillusioned (when I called to protest, he told me "no signed contract! this is not illegal!") that even though I haven't been able to flush my toilet for a week (gotta pour buckets of H2O down it instead), I haven't called him to ask for repairs.
Not very smart considering that dysentery has been going around the school because a sewage pipe broke and leaked all over the carpet in the music room where little children were sitting. And I'm a delicate flower when it comes to raw sewage and digestive systems.
Infrastucture in this country is a weak point. "I have high-speed internet access but can't flush my toilet" I've been telling people.
Guess I'll have to call Igor. He did find another apartment for Victoria, at the original agreed-upon rent, and she says she likes it more than mine. Good.
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Last days of school
It's the end of the year and everyone wants a break, both kids and teachers. I've been showing my grade 6/7 group the movie "Babe". They watched it for two class periods, so saw only about half of the movie. I really wanted them to watch the scene where taciturn Farmer Hoggett sings to Babe and clog-dances.
The class ended at 1:30 so I kept looking over at the clock---that scene's coming up! in how many minutes?
Farmer Hoggett sang and danced at 1:26 and the kids shrieked with laughter. I turned off the DVD and announced "Today is our last class together. I want to tell you that you have been my FAVORITE class!" The kids all yelled and applauded. "You have worked SO hard and learned SO much and it's been wonderful teaching you!" I wasn't teary-eyed then, but I am now as I write this.
All the girls came up and hugged me, saying "I will miss you, Ms. Panneton!" and the boys looked embarrassed so I stuck out my hand for them to shake. It was just terrific.
Then today I was thrilled that 8 (out of 19) of my ESL kids in secondary received "honours" (because this is a Brit school) at the awards assembly. Their grades were overall the equivalent of B+ US. Two of them got "high honours" or A in US grades. Of course I can't take all of the credit but I'll take a little. I teared up some more whenever I talked about it at the teacher picnic today.
It was a great way to end this year of teaching dangerously, as I've sometimes thought of it. I'll be back in the US at the end of July but will have more stories between then and now.
The class ended at 1:30 so I kept looking over at the clock---that scene's coming up! in how many minutes?
Farmer Hoggett sang and danced at 1:26 and the kids shrieked with laughter. I turned off the DVD and announced "Today is our last class together. I want to tell you that you have been my FAVORITE class!" The kids all yelled and applauded. "You have worked SO hard and learned SO much and it's been wonderful teaching you!" I wasn't teary-eyed then, but I am now as I write this.
All the girls came up and hugged me, saying "I will miss you, Ms. Panneton!" and the boys looked embarrassed so I stuck out my hand for them to shake. It was just terrific.
Then today I was thrilled that 8 (out of 19) of my ESL kids in secondary received "honours" (because this is a Brit school) at the awards assembly. Their grades were overall the equivalent of B+ US. Two of them got "high honours" or A in US grades. Of course I can't take all of the credit but I'll take a little. I teared up some more whenever I talked about it at the teacher picnic today.
It was a great way to end this year of teaching dangerously, as I've sometimes thought of it. I'll be back in the US at the end of July but will have more stories between then and now.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Religion
I've been going to chuch semi-regularly here. I figure, hey, the practice of religion was suppressed for 70 years, take advantage of being able to go. There were a lot of underground churches here during Soviet times--literally, people worshipping in caves.
The only Mass held in English is near Maidan, a walk and a subway ride, then a walk up a very steep hill, which was an adventure in winter, with the ice. It's also at 8:30 a.m. But right around the corner from me is one of the few Roman Catholic churches in Kyiv. No Mass in English--Mass in Polish, Russian, and Ukrainian.
The Mass in Ukrainian is at 10 a.m., and there's no need for public transportation, it's a 5-minute walk. And though in Ukrainian, the ritual is the same. I went to Mass in Latin until I was 7.
I like church because it's a chance to see Ukrainians shedding their public faces, those grim dour stony visages. In church they smile and soften up. A mental image I'll carry with me forever is that of a tiny gold-toothed babushka, during the Sign of Peace, turning around and nodding to everyone, her hands over her heart, with a huge joyful grin.
I've become friends with an American family from Massachussets due to the convoluted circumstance of my mother in Bowie MD being very good friends with the husband's aunt. Their three kids all go to my school. Their oldest daughter, Mary Kate, asked me to be her Confirmation sponsor. Of course I was honored and delighted.
The Confirmation class was only 5 kids. At the ceremony, Mary Kate was the first candidate called forward by the bishop. I wasn't sure what to do, but, being first, what I did was what all the other sponsors copied. I don't think I screwed up too much.
The only Mass held in English is near Maidan, a walk and a subway ride, then a walk up a very steep hill, which was an adventure in winter, with the ice. It's also at 8:30 a.m. But right around the corner from me is one of the few Roman Catholic churches in Kyiv. No Mass in English--Mass in Polish, Russian, and Ukrainian.
The Mass in Ukrainian is at 10 a.m., and there's no need for public transportation, it's a 5-minute walk. And though in Ukrainian, the ritual is the same. I went to Mass in Latin until I was 7.
I like church because it's a chance to see Ukrainians shedding their public faces, those grim dour stony visages. In church they smile and soften up. A mental image I'll carry with me forever is that of a tiny gold-toothed babushka, during the Sign of Peace, turning around and nodding to everyone, her hands over her heart, with a huge joyful grin.
I've become friends with an American family from Massachussets due to the convoluted circumstance of my mother in Bowie MD being very good friends with the husband's aunt. Their three kids all go to my school. Their oldest daughter, Mary Kate, asked me to be her Confirmation sponsor. Of course I was honored and delighted.
The Confirmation class was only 5 kids. At the ceremony, Mary Kate was the first candidate called forward by the bishop. I wasn't sure what to do, but, being first, what I did was what all the other sponsors copied. I don't think I screwed up too much.
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