Q&A

I'm opening a Q&A session to give you a better idea of the set up over here. My official title is 'language assistant' which means I work with a teacher who is teaching a specific content and I help them give the lesson in English. I have 8 hours in class and 4 hours of prep time with the teachers. I work with two different groups of students, basically the equivalent to 6th and 7th grades in: math (oh the irony),science,English,and social studies.The 6th graders are cute and pay attention for the most part;however, by 7th grade they begin to turn and it's much harder to persuade them that it is in their best interest to sit for hours on end listening to other people talk about seemingly unimportant things. I honestly feel like I spend 25-50% of the time just getting them to settle down and shut up. I'm slowly realizing how much more I like working with adults. Yet it's nothing compared to what Joana, the other American from the same program, has to go through. By pure chance I ended up with the bilingual program and she ended up teaching in the regular Enlish classes for the highschool aged kids. To start with, Joana is only 20 years old, so it creates for a wierd dynamic trying to be the teacher when you are practically the same age as your students. From what I understand, her students are mostly rejects that didn´t make it into the bilingual program but for some reason are still obligated to take English; apparently they're horrible. Therefore, I'm thankful that I have the group I do. More on this topic later, but right now it is break time and I have to go eat my mini pizza and fresh squeezed orange juice that I order everyday.

I Heart Markets

I was utterly dismayed to realize that there are no good, cheap clothing stores here. Vera and Garrucha are pretty touristy areas with tons of old English folk; hence, I am restricted to over priced, old lady boutiques- how depressing! Therefore, I was overjoyed on market day to find myself surrounded by cheap clothes, shoes and jewlery. I have to say though, my most exciting purchase was a bag of fresh curry! It smelled so good I contemplated putting it in my underware drawer but decided against it. The market here webs it's way through the streets and offers a little something for everyone, and a little everything for me. I treated myself to candied almonds but I'm still a little overwhelmed by the olive selection, perhaps next week I'll tackle that one.
Aside from the market I had a pretty relaxed weekend; a little too relaxed for my taste. I've made a pact with myself to never spend another weekend here without a car! There's just too much to see and it's certanily not in Garrucha.

SORRY NO ENGLISH SPELL CHECK

Here's What You All Have Been Waiting For...

Here's my address!!!

To send me packages it's best to mail them to the school care of my director:

Atención de Lauril Sachet/Cati Gonzalez
I.E.S. Alyanub
Calle Mayor, s/n
04620 Vera (Almeria)
Spain

Letters and postcards can go to:

Lauril Sachet
C/Salcillo, 4, 4 bloque
1 Piso, apart. 71
04630 Garrucha, Almeria
Spain

I want to say thank you to everyone for posting comments! I'm glad to know I'm still able to entertain from a far.

Global Warming or Just Me?

I was told when I got here that it only rains about 7 days a year, well that was a lie. When I went out to catch the bus this morning I was greeted by friendly flashes of lightning; that’s when you think to yourself, “oh boy, it’s going to be one of those days” and in fact it was. I either missed my bus or the bus missed me (things don’t run punctually on the best of days here, add in a bit of rain and no one knows what to do- heaven forbid it should ever snow!). Luckily, through a bit of miscommunication I ended catching a ride to school with one of the teacher’s spouses. At school, the internet wasn’t working due to the "storm", and following suit, the printers decided to go on strike too. However, things seemed to be looking up; I was excited about my first dressage lesson (a style of horseback riding) later in the afternoon, I’d finally found where they offer belly dancing, and I saved myself a euro by hitching a ride home with one of the teachers (a bit of foreshadowing perhaps?).
After having spent 15 minutes on the phone with the ticket agency for the Alhambra (a different story for a different rainy day), my money hungry cell phone notified me that it was time to be fed. I desperately needed to call the stable to see if my lesson was still on after the deluge, so I set off to the bank to withdraw some cash and recharge my phone. Well if it isn’t the darndest thing that the key pads to enter your pin number aren’t backwards here! After a couple of weeks of not continually using one’s pin number,things become a little…jumbled. I knew what numbers made up the combination; I just couldn’t remember the order. Unfortunately, the mathematical probability of guessing the correct combination within the three chances allotted by the bank was not on my side; as a result my account has now been frozen. Time to assess one’s stock and options: 8.93 euros to my name, plenty of spaghetti with no sauce, and no phone credit to send out an SOS, plus housemate gone for weekend- this is not bueno. First order of business, find somewhere to get more phone credit. Well, at 4:00pm that doesn’t leave many options. The only places open during siesta are ATMs and the grocery store; grocery store it was! Thankfully, they did sell phone credit there and, yes, the minimum amount was 5 euros, leaving me with a grand total of 3.93 euros! I called the stables and my lesson had been cancelled; better seeing as how I wouldn’t have been able to pay them anyways. Then my thought process went like this: it’s five pm here which means it’s 8:00am in the states, I’ve got to get a hold of the bank. In order to call the bank I need a calling card and a landline or a computer with internet and a microphone. Well, the only person I know who has either is my director (internet access is depressingly scarce here). I called Cati but no answer; I sent her a text message, still nothing; damn, I forgot it’s still siesta! Nothing to do but wait I guess. Finally the clouds have cleared the sky, but have seemed to accumulate instead just over my shoulder. Come on Cati, please wake up from your siesta and call me! The sun’ll come out tomorrow…rig
You'll be happy to know that this did have a happy ending. I got a hold of Cati, went to her house, used their phone and got my account unblocked no problem! Note to self, write important numbers down!

Pictures!

In order of appearance:
- My place in Garrucha (living room)
- My room
- My view

A MEDITERRENEAN VIEW

I found a place! I moved into an aparment in Garrucha with one of the teachers from the school. If you’ve ever wondered what it’s like waking up with a view of the Mediterranean Sea, it’s spectacular. I keep expecting it to be a projection screen that, at any moment, will roll up to reveal concrete and Wal-Mart. Yet the scene I find myself in is completely real; the palm trees move in the wind, the waves make noise as they slap the shore, ships glide without aid of pullies or wheels, and the sun has most definitely left its mark; therefore, I deduce that it is not a dream.
Yesterday I stuffed myself with paella. One of the teachers and her husband took Joana (the other English teacher and I) to Gabo de Gata where we met up with the director of our program and her family. Gabo de Gata is best known for its nature reserves and immense views. I saw flamingos with their stilt like legs and loopy necks, and a white mountain of salt contrasted against the brown sierras and blue sky.
The day before we went to the near by village of Mojacar; perched on a hillside, it’s almost entirely made up of white buildings. The guide book describes it as, “A teared wedding cake cascading down the hill.” It was picturesque in the way that aged white buildings are when contrasted with fuchsia flowers, blue tile, and palm trees. Joana described it as giving off a “creepy” vibe. I myself wouldn’t call it ‘creepy’ as much as ‘nostalgic.’ It possessed the quality of a place where time stands still; yet the surplus of tourist shops devoted to capturing that essence some how negated it. I did learn an interesting tid-bit though, apparently Walt Disney was born in Mojacar and then adopted by and American couple; leave it up to Spaniards to take credit for that one.

“SHUSH UP POR FAVOR”

Aside from exploring the surrounding areas, I completed my first week at school. All the teachers are incredibly generous and friendly, although I still can’t remember a single name. My students make up the ‘bilingual’ program which pretty much means that once a week I come into their classes and we try to speak all in English. The kids are from ages about 11-14 and fortunately seem pretty enthusiastic about me being there. As predicted, I have to develop my disciplinary skills. I know that if I’m pretty strict in the beginning, I will save myself a lot of work later on down the road. From what I observed, a significant amount of time was wasted in each class just trying to get the kids settled down, quiet, and focused. I was surprised to see what a Spanish classroom was actually like. I’d expected them to be more old fashion in their approach in that the class would be well controlled, involving a lot of memorization and text based techniques, but that wasn’t really the case. It’s as if the school system has been caught half way as the educational methodology pendulum swings from teacher to student centered approaches and. It seems like they want to incorporate more interactive methods but don’t have the disciplinary structure in place to pull it off. Things seem chaotic and unplanned, but perhaps that’s just because the teachers aren’t sure what to do with me yet. I find myself walking a tightrope of seeing what needs to be done and doing it, and not overstepping the teacher’s authority (not that they have much). It’s my observation, in general, that children here don’t grow up with the same sense of consequence. They tend to be very spoiled, and I don’t necessarily mean that in a derogatory way, but that they are used to demanding adults’ attention and not the other way around. I’m actually excited to experiment with some classroom management ideas and look forward to reshaping the learning environment. A part of me says, “Oh, you’re coming in with your American view points and prescribing a remedy for what you perceive as a problem.” But that’s what part of what the cultural exchange is about right? Plus, when I see teachers using methods to quiet down the students and they aren’t affective, why should I waste my time dealing with the consequences? If I’m only in a each class one day a week, you bet your bottom dollar that I’m going to do everything possible to ensure the optimal learning experience. Does that sound idealistic or what? Any ways it’ll be interesting to see how this pans out; shall we just say, “to be continued…”?

The Scoop

The answers to all your questions:
- I am still looking for an apartment. I´m hoping to find something in Garrucha a small town near Vera but right on the beach.
- I haven´t officially started working yet, the school is still organizing my schedule but I´m told I´ll start for sure tomorrow.
- I´m in search of a scooter but I may end up with a bike depending on prices.
- I went swimming in the Mediterrenean this weekend, it was fabulous.
- I have a cell phone, the number is (34) 699 35 47 35 remember that Spain is 9 hours ahead of the west coast and 6 from the east.
- Applying for my visa extention was a piece of cake. We (my self and the other american teacher at my school named Joanna) accidentally went to the wrong place and it worked in our favor; they went ahead and did it for us and I think we ended up bipassing a huge line!
- My cold is completely better (yeah for the nasal wash!)
- I don´t have consistant internet access yet so I´m not sure how great I´ll be at keeping in touch but I´ll do my best! I´ll write more and post amazing pictures that will make you green with envy as soon as I get a chance!
¡Hasta Luego!

Vamos a Vera: First Impressions

Apparently many westerns, such as, “The Good the Bad and the Ugly,” were filmed out here because it looks so much like the South West- dry, and cactus covered. Vera is small; I walked right through the main plaza with out even realizing it. It is pushed up against the Sierras de Something-or-Other and there is a large hill complete with giant Jesus statue that glows in the dark. Vera is a haven for northern Europeans seeking a warmer climate. Sitting in the plaza Mayor (after passing through it for the second time) I was surprised by how many blond haired, blue-eyed children I saw. It's growing on me though and the people are extremely friendly. I’m staying at a B&B run by a friendly British couple, Dave and Jilly. Jilly says to call her ‘Mother’ and has been taking care of me while I try to kick a cold (although I have sneaking suspicion that I’m allergic to cigarette smoke). I was told that it only rains here about 7 days a year!!! Coming from WA that’s almost inconceivable; yet, I’ve only been here hardly 3 days and so far it’s rained for 2 of them. Today was especially exciting as our lunch was accompanied by claps of thunder, pelting rain and even a bit of very confused hail. I guess the weather was just trying to ease my transition. I finally got to see the school I’ll be teaching at. I met all the teachers, but don’t remember a single name. I’ll meet the students on Monday; that’s the most nerve racking part anyways. I also opened a bank account (although I don’t have any money in it yet- baby steps you know). Saturday I’m planning to go to the beach, that is if it’s not raining, and look for an apartment. Tomorrow I have to get up early and go to Almeria

(the biggest town in the region) to apply for a visa extension, let’s hope it’s not nearly as bad as applying for the visa itself!

All Roads Lead to Granada

When I got off the plane I told myself that it was Ok to get a taxi; I’d dragged my bags so far already that I deserve a break, but I’d keep me eyes open for a bus just in case. The truth was that I was intimidated by the idea of catching the right bus and going to an unknown destination and was alright with the convenient yet more expensive option of making that someone else’s job. I saw the sign for the taxis first on my left but I turned right and went for the buses; just to see what the situation was. As it turned out, the bus was extremely east to figure out, basically a pick up and depository system of “English” tourists (all variety of tourists falling into that category). Getting to the hostel its self proved to be a bit more difficult as the road was blocked by a parade celebrating the patron virgin of Granada. Slowly and somberly (hardly a “festive” mood although that’s what they kept referring to it as) mostly olderly women, holding long white candles flowed down the street carried by the beat of marching bands. Like a motor boat interrupting spawning salmon, I excused my way right through the middle of it; trailing my 55lbs suit case in tow. Parched from the plane and the walk, I finally made it to my hostel and checked in. To my dismay what was described over the phone as a room on the “ground floor” actually ended up being up two flights of narrow stairs; however, I am forever ecstatic about the weight training opportunities that keep presenting themselves. After a nice hot shower, I felt much relieved yet surprisingly hungry; I may have forgotten that Spain was an hour ahead of England, but my stomach hadn’t. I’d remembered passing a tapas bar on the way and decided to check it out. The place was healthily busy and I seemed to be the only foreigner, both of which I took to be good signs. A little overwhelmed at the selection and the prices, I decided to treat myself since I’d saved so much by taking a bus. I ordered a glass of vino tinto, red wine, from “la Rioja” one of the best wine growing regions, and fresh chorizo (something I’d been missing for the past four years). The food was excellent and as the bar filled up, so did I. The bartender’s voice projected over the din as he shouted out orders. I asked the couple next to me if they had any idea where the “sultan’s street” was, the place I’m supposed to go tomorrow for my orientation. They were unable to help me, but very kind. I returned to my hostel and continued my search for the elusive “Hotel Abades Nevada Palace” with the assistance of the clerk (who consequently is also the housekeeper and speaks about five languages). In the end we decided that it would probably be best for me to get a taxi seeing as it was a bit outside of town. Running up to my room I grabbed a light jacket as it had gotten a bit chilly when the sun when down and decided to be out with everyone else- roaming the street. I walked past the cathedral and helped myself to some mango gelato. Unfortunately, I am not yet on the Spanish time schedule and yawning, decided to call it an early night. Though extremely different from Granada, Nicaragua where I was earlier this spring, the scraps of music wafting its way up form the street along with the smell of corn roasting on the corner are oddly reminiscent and comforting.