Октября
10, 2002
Привиет
Фсе (Hi All),
Back to back journal entries, trying to keep up the interest…
It’s a cloudy Saturday morning, starting to feel like winter. Fall is officially here, its been windy, and the foliage (not foilage) is impressive. I say that because I saw Bush’s war speech on CNN the other day, and he said “Nucular” about 27 times. Now, I know it’s a difficult word to say, but man, he’s the leader of the free world, can’t someone buy our fearless Commander in Chief the Hooked on Phonics tape? Dubbya, its NUCLEAR!! Jeez, you can take the boy out of the south, but…
Ok, anyway, I digress. Reason I’m writing now is that there is a bit of sad/weird news. The old lady that lived in this apartment died two days ago. She was the mother of the Director (with a BIG capital D) of the school I’m teaching at, and had a stroke in June. She has since been bedridden on the couch in the Director’s apartment, which is on the same floor as this one. Also on this floor is the Director’s daughter and her family. Anyway, my phone has been ringing with wishes of sympathy (the number was never changed), and this morning, I’m hearing all kinds of traffic outside my door, presumably visitors. Here I am, a clueless foreigner, hiding behind the door of the apartment of a dead woman, hoping no one knocks on it. The place is still furnished with all her stuff, so it feels creepy now. I’m going to this lunch today for her at the school, which I very much do NOT want to go to. I can just see the American upstaging the deceased at her own funeral, which is a one-way, express ticket to eternal damnation.
I’m also listening to some nice tunes, called “Sweet Pea’s Revenge, Live at Tipitina’s, July 2, 1999”. For those of you unaware, this CD is the result of a classic “Greg Thing”. My friend Greg is an avid fan of little known local bands, and enjoys seeing them perform at small, overpriced pubs in NYC. Of course, he also enjoys dragging 10 of his closest friends along, which on the surface sounds fun, but here’s the clincher: No Talking. You see, Greg goes to these events wired like a Pakistani militant in a crowded café (I know, poor taste), with speakers hidden all over his body and a recorder God knows where. If you’re near him, you must be quiet so he can get a good recording. So Greg, if you’re reading this, after years of abuse, you can smugly smile, as this CD is great quality, and is perfect for a Saturday morning/mourning…give my best to Sweet Pea the next time you pirate their music J.
This week was sort of rough with the teaching thing. I’m having some trouble with discipline
(kids, not my own this time). Here in
Kaz there is no concept of DETENTION, so there is no incentive for kids to be
good. I teach this 10th grade
class with just five kids, and one of them is very disruptive. His English is ok, so I can get my point
across, but you just can’t scare these kids.
Yesterday, he was fully turned around in his seat, brazenly talking to
the kid behind him while I was lecturing.
With one kid absent (they are always absent around here), that left just
two to listen to me. I stopped, walked
over, and stared. He didn’t even
stop! I wanted to throw his
disrespectful ass out the window, but I calmly asked “are you talking about the
lesson?” See, I have to let them talk in my class because sometimes they are
explaining to each other in Russian what I’m saying. So he thinks, and says “yes” with a
smile. I respond “I don’t think so. And I want you to stop talking and turn
around. You disrupt the class when you
talk, and I cannot think, nor can the other students hear”. He slowly turns around, but is again talking
soon. I stop again, go over, and tell
him this is disrespectful, and give him a lecture that in
Then I get to my weekly 9th Grade class, which is
just an English Club. Just have fun
talking English, easy right?. No, again,
one kid is disruptive, out of about 13 kids.
He’s not interested, just BSing with his
buddies. At one point, they actually
start throwing punches, and I just snapped and yelled “NO!!! NOT IN MY CLASS!!!”. I was glaring at him, and kept saying over
and over “I am not kidding, this is not funny, not acceptable”. Apparently, it was a joke, they often fight
here as a joke. I’m so damn tired of
being a babysitter. The quarter ends in three
weeks, and I am pressing to have them just have me teach 10th and 11th
grade, as their English is pretty good, and they are somewhat interested in
business. Then I can have that little
#$%$^ as my personal project. I talk to
the other teachers, and they all have problems with the kid in the 10th
grade, and they shrug they’re shoulders.
No one seems to feel responsible for making sure the others get an
education, even though this is a private school. I have talked up the concept of detention,
and the teachers seem to grasp the idea.
What a legacy to leave, introducing the Detention to the country of
I am growing, though, because I realize I need to get into
the heads of these problem kids somehow, and that also, its cultural, because
most people don’t see it as a real issue.
Then again, the
Its just a couple classes a week anyway. Plus, sometimes there are good days. I shined this week in a class on inflation, a topic that last week I was clueless on (sshh). For the record, inflation is when your currency loses its value at an unusual rate.
Not sure if I mentioned, but I’m involved with this radio
show called “The Andrew and Megan Show”, every Thursday night,
What else is happening…oh, I’m playing volleyball now, M, W, F evenings. Its strange to play a sport with such close teamwork without speaking the language. I yell “nice shot!”, and it is heard as “yadda yadda!” Oh well, its still fun. Rules are sort of different, though. If you hit the net with the serve and it goes over, no problem. Kicking the ball is ok too, but I’m into that, adds another dimension to the game. I’m also still involved in this “Movie Club” every Sunday afternoon at the library. Basically, the three PC volunteers here in Ust (me, Megan, Eric) take turns each week choosing a movie, explaining it to the members, showing it, and leading a discussion on it afterwards. There are about 20 people that attend, mostly college students studying English. Megan’s playing “Being John Malkovich” tomorrow. Good luck, I didn’t even understand that one. My next movie is going to be “Air Force One”, where the president’s plane is hi-jacked by Kazakhstani terrorists…hehe. Hey, I watched “Red Dawn” with my host father in Almaty, why not?
My doorbell just rang, some people wanting to pay respects…this is so awkward. I also smelled fish cooking down the hall, I think its part of the whole deal. The son-in-law is a pretty cool guy, about my age, but no English. He told me the woman was “very old”, 70 years. Old, eh? Tell my Dad that. I tell ya, the greatest measure of our system of government/economy is how long we live. From last week’s hospital trip to someone dying at 70 as “very old”, I am a firm believer in the free market. Did I mention that corruption is rampant in the education system here? Yep, if you want an A, you just pay for it, no problem. At some universities, they actually post the price of a grade, no kidding!! Part of our training was how to deal with that, and the guidance was basically “do what you want”. I tell myself the medical schools are different, but I think I’m living a lie. One example of the medical talent here is that it is a widely held belief that if you sit on something cold, you’ll go sterile, men and women. If you see someone sitting on stone steps, you’ll know they are foreigners. Also, drinking cold things gives you a cold, which is why its hard to find cold beverages here. Ust isn’t too bad with this stuff, it’s a larger city, but man, get into the villages, and its very real. Back in training, I was about to sit on the back step, and my host-father had a bird, ran to get me a wooden stool, then started to act out my prostrate being damaged. I’m not sure what is more disturbing, the belief itelf, or seeing him act it out.
I want to give a big shout out to my bro Mike and his lovely
wife Judy, your package arrived. Opened,
though, like usual. I complained, said
its BS that they open my packages (it was the same day as my problems with the
kids in class, so I was in a foul mood).
I told them they were my packages, and asked them to explain why they
were always opening them. The woman was
saying something about not my fault, they did it in Almaty,
and I just said I know, I know, but its still very bad, then I left in a huff. It appears they do snoop, but they just cut
open one flap. So if anyone is sending
anything, just make sure any loose stuff is somewhere in the middle, mostly so
it doesn’t fall out, or “mistakenly” fall out.
Again, people complain about our postal workers, all from a few minor
murderous rampages, but at least our packages are private. Anyway, it doesn’t appear anything has been
missing yet, so again, thanks to the Kelly Clan of
Some other cool stuff I’ve gotten, from my friend Classy Carla in Cali…good toilet paper, some taco seasoning, breakfast bars (granola bars and powerbars are great too), a fiction book. Oh, my sister sent some beef/cheese sticks, and used plastic grocery bags as filler, and they are very useful also, great idea Kath!
Ok, that’s enough blatant talk of solicitation of
free-stuff. I’m going to sign off now,
I’ve decided that I don’t want to go to this memorial thing at the school, its
way too awkward. I’m going to call my
counterpart, and ask her to relay my condolences. Hey, I probably commit 50 or so faux pas in a day, so what’s one more?
Later,
Andrew