Did you know that Daylight Savings Time changes a week earlier in Europe than it does in the United States? I didn’t know that either until I arrived at church an hour early on Sunday morning.
I met current Furman student Jessie Gomez on Sunday morning around what we thought to be 10:45 at a new metro stop. We followed her handwritten directions and eventually found the sign outside the Suffolk University campus that read The Community Church of Madrid. Two other girls had joined us in our search, and as the four of us climbed the steps to the building, a blond haired, blue eyed woman with an enormous smile opened the door, saying “Welcome in! I guess you didn’t know about the time change, but please come in! We’re still setting up. I’m Pastor Cathy.” Pastor Cathy led us into the lobby of this small university building and asked about each of us. Since Jessie has only known me as Hailey, she (naturally) kept calling me that, and I (naturally) responded and consequently introduced myself to everyone the rest of the morning as Hailey. Yeah… identity crisis in the making.
Little by little, others began to trickle in, because we weren’t the only ones to miss the news about our free sleep-in day. Once the “sanctuary” was prepared, we all moved our little party into a classroom/auditorium room and filed in among the school desk/chairs. I learned that Pastor Cathy is a religion professor at several universities in Madrid, and she had invited one of her classes to come hear her speak that morning. To her surprise, her entire class of about 15 college students showed up. Just before the services, couples and singles, young and old, found seats. My guess is that there were around 50 people in attendance. Although a small and eclectic church congregation, the love, encouragement, and familial feelings that emanated from the participants during the service was so fulfilling and so refreshing. Being an international, nondenominational church, the service includes prelude music comparable to some familiar passion songs and incorporates hymns from a Methodist Hymnal (Pastor Cathy is an ordained Methodist minister). What I thought was cool and different was that every Sunday after the sermon, 5 or 10 minutes are opened up for questions and dialogue. People can just raise their hand (like we’re back in 3rd grade) and make a comment or pose a question to the Pastora. The service closed with joining hands, singing “Eagle’s Wings,” and a benediction.
I left the “church” happy and content to have found a place where I can go every Sunday, worship in English, and form relationships with some very interesting people from all over the world. I decided that I wanted to go that night to the Preaching Partners Bible study that is held at Pastor Cathy’s home. Not sure if the 7pm time should be interpreted in the Spanish understanding of how clocks work, meaning show up a little later and get started even later, or if it was America’s concept of arrive on-the-dot. So, at 6:55 PM, I pressed the buzzer to what I hoped was the correct apartment, and a rich high voice came out of the loud speaker, “Come in!” Pastor Cathy was waiting for me at the top of the staircase landing, and she ushered me into her apartment. “Now, it’s Hailey, right?” she asked. “Well, yes…” and I proceeded to tell her about my decision to go by my first name while living in Spain. “Oh, but I like Hailey, because it’s original and different” (no offense to those other Laura’s out there). So, when the other regulars showed up, I was introduced as Hailey. Yes, we can now affirm that I am having somewhat of an identity crisis.
The “regulars” of Pastor Cathy’s Bible study are anything but regular or ordinary. Since I was the first to arrive, I was able to get a little background on each member beforehand. Maria, a Spanish woman probably in her late 60s, arrived after me, and I was told that she comes to practice her English. And although she has never admitted it, she is suspected to be some sort of nun, or at least, an ordained lay person who lives in a convent. Next to arrive was Virginia, dressed in scarlet red from head to toe, which apparently attests to her heritage. Virginia is a Nigerian princess, (yes… I said princess) who seemed to me to be her in late 50s and has nobly high cheek bones, twinkling eyes, and an infectious laugh. Shortly after Virginia’s grand introduction, Edith showed up. Edith is a woman (in her 60s?) from South Africa, whose melodic British-lilted accent softly brushes the ear with a comforting and reassuring touch. These three women, along with Franco—the German man who married a Spaniard but was not present on this particular Sunday—, make up Pastor Cathy’s Sunday night Bible study. And there I sat… my 22 year old self… world traveler indeed… or maybe not so much.
For the next hour, we all sat around the kitchen table, chatting, telling stories, and sharing beliefs and experiences. Pastor Cathy uses this meeting to read through the text for the coming Sunday’s service and then just brainstorm and discuss the issues presented in the texts. Since next weekend is All Saint’s Day, we talked about saints, those people who have had influence in our lives, who have offered spiritual guidance, or whose who we can encounter on a daily basis. Maria seemed to miss the question-boat, because when asked if she had a saint, anyone who had guided her spiritually at one point or another in her lifetime, she started rattling off in Spanish about Moses and King David. After clarifying the question in Spanish, Pastor Cathy still couldn’t convince Maria to steer clear of other Biblical figures and the notable prophets. Oh well, we tried. Unless Maria actually did live in the time before Christ Jesus walked the earth…
I felt so privileged to have stumbled upon such an all-star cast, but I was also uncertain if I would fit in with a group of older women who have known each other for over a decade. However, at the end of the night, as I left Pastor Cathy’s apartment with Virginia and Edith and with invitations from all to come back the next week, I knew that I would do everything I could to return every following Sunday that I am in Madrid. What a blessing to find such a group of Christians from different backgrounds and from all over the world. I am very much looking forward to getting to know each one of them more every week. Additionally, I am so happy to have the opportunity to join a new church family!
Here is the website for The Community Church of Madrid: http://www.communitychurch-madrid.org/index.htm
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Monday, October 20, 2008
Old News Is Still Good News
While my excursion to Sevilla was marvelous, I must not let it overshadow last week’s highlights, and although I'm lacking some "zed's" (that's how the British say "z"), I will gladly give them up to mention some exciting news from last week.
Last weekend, I made friends with some Spaniards from the south of Spain (before my visit to Andalusia). Antonio and his amigos are from Málaga, and SK and I hung out with them a lot last weekend. It’s fun to be making random Spanish friends!
I checked out El Rastro last Sunday (the 12th of October) with SK. El Rastro is basically Madrid’s version of a flea market the size of a small town that sprawls through entire street blocks and plazas. You can find almost anything in El Rastro. From clothes to electric appliances to jewelry to baseball cards, El Rastro has an eclectic mix of goods to buy at very low prices. I bought several colorful scarves to give my wardrobe a little more street cred here in Spain.
Festival VivaAmerica was an event in Madrid that lasted from the 6th to the 12th of October. Dozens of Latin American authors, film makers, artists, and other notable representatives held conferences, concerts, and presentations over the course of a week. The culmination of the event came on Sunday evening in the form of the coolest and most fun parade, called La Marcha, that I have ever seen. El Paseo del Prado, one of Madrid’s largest and most prominent streets, was blocked off for the festival. Dancers and performers processed down the promenade in a magnificent display of sights and sounds. Representatives from each country were wearing their traditional costumes, dancing their specific steps, and playing their regional rhythms. Between sets of countries, huge tractor-trailors/double-decker-buses were transformed into moving stages and some of Latin America’s most famous music stars sage out to the crowded streets. Hermanos Rosario from the Dominican Republic, Orishas from Cuba, and Brasil’s queen of Carnival Daniela Mercury were among the top performers. And I got to see these musicians up close and personal. SK, Antonio, and I would follow the buses as the crept down the road, and as we moved, we danced. Everyone was dancing in the streets… and it was awesome. Basically, La Marcha was a beautiful celebration of Latin America and its people, and it was so refreshing to taste that distinctly sweet and exotic flavor here in the more stoic and traditional Spanish lifestyle.
My friend, Miami Alex, and I did a couple of notable things last week. [Btw, Alex is an actor from Miami who’s visiting Spain to practice his Spanish. We met on my birthday and have hung out a few times.] On Tuesday night, we went to a district called La Latina and found a great Basque tapas bar called Txacolina. The Basque region is in the northeastern part of Spain and it has a completely different language. In fact, there is an ongoing debate over Basque independence, but no legislation has come from that.
Miami Alex invited me to see a play with him at El Teatro María Guerrero. He told me he thought it was some kind of Russian opera. Oh no. Boris Godnov’s La Fura dels Baus was based off an old Russian opera, but it was relating the story of the 2002 terrorist kidnapping of a theater in Moscow… and it was the scariest, most thrilling theatrical performance I have ever seen, because that is exactly what happened to our theater. The actor-terrorists were actually carrying real weapons and shot real blanks, and although it was in Spanish and I missed a few words or phrases, I didn’t have to know everything to still be terrified out of my mind. On a technical note, this play was also awesome because it incorporated cinematography with live-acting. Part of the set used large blank canvases at the back of the stage to show the security camera images that the terrorists had set up throughout the theater—the lobby, the bathrooms, the basement, the audience. Obviously, these had been prerecorded, but the actors had to be in sync with the film. It was a really cool effect and admirable addition to this already more-than-realistic performance.
Lastly, not only am I working at my school, but I’ve taken on several private tutoring classes, but seeing as how it's late and time to some well deserved sleep, I'll wait on describing those great new experiences!
The C's of Sevilla
Wow… a lot has happened in one week, and there are some cool things that I will share later. However, this entry I must dedicate to my fantastic weekend excursion to Sevilla, Spain.
Shenning, Sarah Kolb (my fellow teacher-friend), Alejandra (my Colombian roommate), and I left from a Madrid bus station at midnight on Thursday. This was the first time I’ve seen Shenning since I helped her move out to Alcalá de Henares on September 30, and it was a joyful reunion to see my dear Furman friend. Alejandra met the two Sarah’s with a big smile and besos for both. We all gelled instantly, and I think we have formed our own little traveling troupe.
Thanks to the large Spanish man snoring incredibly loudly in the seat directly behind me, another man across the aisle whose music competed with Mr. Snoring Train, and a somewhat uncomfortable chair, we arrived in Sevilla at 6:00 AM very sleep deprived but relieved to have made it to our weekend destination. Sarah Kolb (whom I will now refer to as SK) studied abroad in Sevilla a couple of years ago, and she was our tour guide and program director. SK led us through the dark narrow streets to the Ole Backpacker Hostel; we rang the door bell and waited anxiously for someone to answer. An old man opened the wooden door and proceeded to tell us that we couldn’t check in until noon. He let us put our packs down in a closet, and then basically kicked us back out on the streets. Sleep deprived, a little delirious, and hungry, we decided that the best thing for us to do at 6:45 AM was to have a seat at the Churros stand that stays open all night long. Of course, you can’t eat churros without chocolate, but unfortunately, the chocolate wasn’t ready when we ordered. Instead of risking falling asleep in our chairs, we took a stroll down the river walk. The Río Guadalquivir divides the city of Sevilla in half, and beautiful bridges stretch across the murky water. At 7:00 in the morning, the moonlight reflected off the darkness below and the stars still sparkled in the sky. A little while later, we returned to our churros stand, ordered a massive amount of greasy fried dough (aka churros) and small cups of warm gooey chocolate. The combination of chocolate and churros gave us an energy boost, which was a good thing since we still had 4 or 5 hours to kill before we could claim una cama (a bed).
El sol salió. As we started to stroll through Sevilla, the sun slowly made its way higher in the sky, and with its glorious emergence, the town was brought to life. People came out to open their shops and little by little the empty streets began to teem with activity, and we were able to witness that transformation. Sevilla is an ancient city, built without our modern day concept of city planning, and thus the streets twist and turn to create a confusing maze of crisscrossing calles y caminos that made my head spin. We wandered through La Judería, the Jewish quarter, where blossoming home gardens spill over their white-washed walls, and we walked through an enchanting park that elegantly displayed the Arabic influence so prominent in the south of Spain. In fact, that is what distinguishes Andalusia, Spain’s southernmost province, from the others. The Moorish Empire once expanded all the way into Spain, and it wasn’t until 1492 that Los Reyes Católicos, King Ferdinand and Queen Isabela, were able to conquer the south and expel the Moors from the country. And although Islam and the Arabs were expelled from the country, their essence still lingers in the south, most apparent in the architecture—the decorative columns, the pointed arches, the towering spirals, the colorful tiles and mosaics, the intricate geometric designs and the lush tropical gardens. As Alejandra would say, “¡Qué linda! ¡Qué hermosa!”
One of Sevilla’s great landmarks is La Catedral, one of the largest cathedrals in the world. We toured this behemoth of a church in the early morning hours, and the light barely permeated through the enormous stained glass windows. The side chapels rested in silent darkness, but the echo of our footsteps conveyed through alternative senses the magnitude of this building. Christopher Columbus is buried here… so I got to say, “What’s up, Chris?” to the giant statue built in his honor at his tomb. After we exited the church, we found some steps to sit and rest. The temporary energy we had gained from our churros y chocolate had dissipated and we were fading fast. Finally, around 11:00 we decided to make our way back to the Olé Hostel and hope for an open bed.
Our prayers were answered and we climbed in bed around 11:30 to nap. After a couple of hours sleep and a warm shower, we felt refreshed and reenergized. However, before getting back out on the Sevillian streets, we were asked to move to a sister hostel due to booking issues. We complied, and we were astonished to find our new hostel, Seville Friends Hostel, to be even better than the first… upgrade! We threw our packs and bags in our lockers and SK led us to a hole in the wall tapas bar called El Patio. We ordered our tapas lunch of bocadillos, pepper salad, empanadas, and olives, and ate our finger food on the blue tiled terraced steps along the wall. Afterwards, we spent the rest of the afternoon wandering through the streets, the parks, and through other landmarks like the beautiful Plaza de España. After a lot of walking, we sat in an outdoor patio and shared a jar of sangria. I have come to the realization that I don’t like sangria very much, because the mixture of artificial and naturals sugars combined with the numerous forms of alcohol are simply too much for my taste buds and my stomach to handle. It’s a little unfortunate since sangria is a traditional Spanish drink and I now live in Spain, but try as I might, I can’t take more than one small glass.
On Friday night, SK led us to another great tapas restaurant where we shared croquetes de jamón, spinach tortilla, fried artichokes, and patatas bravas. We spent the rest of the night at a famous flamenco bar. Hundreds of people were crammed into this large, low-ceilinged room filled with bench seats and small tables. Along part of one wall was a small wooden stage where the flamenco performers sat. A guitar player who looked a little like Johnny Depp, a flautist, a singer whose singing sounded more like a Native American chant, and a beautiful woman wearing a striking red outfit all sat playing their instruments, clapping their hands, and stomping their feet to create a strange and hypnotic rhythm. The flamenco dancer rose from her chair and worked her magic on the stage. Her feet moved like lightening and produced the sound of thunder. Her hands spun around her head and her body turned in calculated motions. It was incredible to see the real deal—a real Spanish flamenco show—right in front of me (I was literally standing 5 feet away from the stage). Eventually, a man joined the woman and the two moved together in a passionate display of dancing that made the movie Center Stage look sexy as the Nutcracker.
On Saturday morning, a light rain dampened the city, but it did not dampen our spirits. Shenning, Alejandra, and I toured the Alcazar Palace, and we were in awe of the enchanting gardens and stunning architecture, again a testament of the Moorish influence. Of all the palaces and beautiful buildings that I’ve seen in my life’s travels, the Alcazar of Sevilla was perhaps the most impressive and most pleasant. Apparently, the thing to do in Sevilla is get married on Saturday in the fall and then go to the Alcazar to take your wedding pictures. We saw at least 7 or 8 wedding couples in the gardens alone! Later that day, we noticed that two different weddings were being held in the cathedral at the same time. Yeah… maybe that will help give you an idea of just how big La Catedral really is.
Saturday afternoon we were treated to a free lunch on the rooftop of our hostel. Blue sky replaced the rain clouds, and we enjoyed a delicious “home-cooked” meal of Andalusian vegetable soup and a bottle of fino (their typical sherry white wine). Afterwards, we took a tour of the Plaza de Torros and sat in the oval stadium where the matadors take on the bulls in the spring and summer months. An informative tour of the grounds and a small museum explained the history, the rules, the methods, and the traditions of bull fighting in Spain. It seems quite gruesome and I doubt I would enjoy it, but I think I’ll have to go to a bull fight at least once while I’m in Spain.
Saturday night was the big finale to our weekend in Sevilla. SK took us to another famous and wonderful tapas restaurant called Taberna Coloniales, which is in a less touristy part of town. While we waited, we had a glass of wine and practiced Spanish and English tongue twisters. [Side note: I’m so glad that Alejandra came with us for the weekend, because with her there, we spoke in Spanish almost the entire weekend. I was right to mention in my previous post about her being my saving grace when it comes to practicing my Spanish. Already after living with Alejandra for two weeks, my Spanish speaking capabilities have probably doubled and maybe even tripled from where it was one month ago.] That night, we had the best meal that I’ve had since arriving in Spain. We ordered a goat cheese plate that came with a blackberry jam, spinach croquetes, shrimp fritters, chicken & potatoes with an alfredo sauce, and stuffed eggplant (my favorite dish since arriving in Spain). We also made friends that night with four Italian guys. They sent us drinks at dinner, introduced themselves, and we all toasted “salut!” As it turned out, they had plans to go to the same flamenco bar SK was going to take us to, and the eight of us all made our way across the river to find it. SK was a great guide and we found the bar with no problem, but it was so full that at first, we could go no further than the doorway. This flamenco joint was different than before; it was more local and the ones running the show were older Sevillians who do this kind of thing out of traditional fun and celebration. It was cool to get a different aspect of how and who can perform the flamenco. After a spending enough time in cramped quarters and finishing off our vino del verano, compliments of the Italians, we moved on to another bar down by the river walk. We chatted with our Italian friends in Spanish and hung out for a while until we decided to actually take our little party to the small path next to the river for a while. Sometime after 4:00 AM, we started walking back towards our hostels, and we parted with invitations to and from Madrid and Lecce, Italy.
As if the night wasn’t long enough, we decided to check out the loud bar on the street directly in front of our hostel. It was close to 5:00 AM, but the music was pumping out and there were people still hanging out. Finally, around 6:00 AM, we crawled into our beds and slept for a couple of hours before we had to pack up, get breakfast, and walk to the bus station to catch our 10:00 AM bus departing for Madrid. I did manage to get a little more sleep on this bus ride than before, but needless to say, getting into my bed Sunday night back in Madrid was a beautifully blessed thing. It was a fantastic weekend, and I am so glad to have experienced a little bit of southern Spain and to have shared it with mis amigas. Sevilla wouldn’t be complete without our list of C’s: churros, chocolate, café, cama, caminando, la Catedral, Cristóbal Colon, las calles y caminos, cerveza, chicos.
For pictures, please check out my Facebook Album!!
Shenning, Sarah Kolb (my fellow teacher-friend), Alejandra (my Colombian roommate), and I left from a Madrid bus station at midnight on Thursday. This was the first time I’ve seen Shenning since I helped her move out to Alcalá de Henares on September 30, and it was a joyful reunion to see my dear Furman friend. Alejandra met the two Sarah’s with a big smile and besos for both. We all gelled instantly, and I think we have formed our own little traveling troupe.
Thanks to the large Spanish man snoring incredibly loudly in the seat directly behind me, another man across the aisle whose music competed with Mr. Snoring Train, and a somewhat uncomfortable chair, we arrived in Sevilla at 6:00 AM very sleep deprived but relieved to have made it to our weekend destination. Sarah Kolb (whom I will now refer to as SK) studied abroad in Sevilla a couple of years ago, and she was our tour guide and program director. SK led us through the dark narrow streets to the Ole Backpacker Hostel; we rang the door bell and waited anxiously for someone to answer. An old man opened the wooden door and proceeded to tell us that we couldn’t check in until noon. He let us put our packs down in a closet, and then basically kicked us back out on the streets. Sleep deprived, a little delirious, and hungry, we decided that the best thing for us to do at 6:45 AM was to have a seat at the Churros stand that stays open all night long. Of course, you can’t eat churros without chocolate, but unfortunately, the chocolate wasn’t ready when we ordered. Instead of risking falling asleep in our chairs, we took a stroll down the river walk. The Río Guadalquivir divides the city of Sevilla in half, and beautiful bridges stretch across the murky water. At 7:00 in the morning, the moonlight reflected off the darkness below and the stars still sparkled in the sky. A little while later, we returned to our churros stand, ordered a massive amount of greasy fried dough (aka churros) and small cups of warm gooey chocolate. The combination of chocolate and churros gave us an energy boost, which was a good thing since we still had 4 or 5 hours to kill before we could claim una cama (a bed).
El sol salió. As we started to stroll through Sevilla, the sun slowly made its way higher in the sky, and with its glorious emergence, the town was brought to life. People came out to open their shops and little by little the empty streets began to teem with activity, and we were able to witness that transformation. Sevilla is an ancient city, built without our modern day concept of city planning, and thus the streets twist and turn to create a confusing maze of crisscrossing calles y caminos that made my head spin. We wandered through La Judería, the Jewish quarter, where blossoming home gardens spill over their white-washed walls, and we walked through an enchanting park that elegantly displayed the Arabic influence so prominent in the south of Spain. In fact, that is what distinguishes Andalusia, Spain’s southernmost province, from the others. The Moorish Empire once expanded all the way into Spain, and it wasn’t until 1492 that Los Reyes Católicos, King Ferdinand and Queen Isabela, were able to conquer the south and expel the Moors from the country. And although Islam and the Arabs were expelled from the country, their essence still lingers in the south, most apparent in the architecture—the decorative columns, the pointed arches, the towering spirals, the colorful tiles and mosaics, the intricate geometric designs and the lush tropical gardens. As Alejandra would say, “¡Qué linda! ¡Qué hermosa!”
One of Sevilla’s great landmarks is La Catedral, one of the largest cathedrals in the world. We toured this behemoth of a church in the early morning hours, and the light barely permeated through the enormous stained glass windows. The side chapels rested in silent darkness, but the echo of our footsteps conveyed through alternative senses the magnitude of this building. Christopher Columbus is buried here… so I got to say, “What’s up, Chris?” to the giant statue built in his honor at his tomb. After we exited the church, we found some steps to sit and rest. The temporary energy we had gained from our churros y chocolate had dissipated and we were fading fast. Finally, around 11:00 we decided to make our way back to the Olé Hostel and hope for an open bed.
Our prayers were answered and we climbed in bed around 11:30 to nap. After a couple of hours sleep and a warm shower, we felt refreshed and reenergized. However, before getting back out on the Sevillian streets, we were asked to move to a sister hostel due to booking issues. We complied, and we were astonished to find our new hostel, Seville Friends Hostel, to be even better than the first… upgrade! We threw our packs and bags in our lockers and SK led us to a hole in the wall tapas bar called El Patio. We ordered our tapas lunch of bocadillos, pepper salad, empanadas, and olives, and ate our finger food on the blue tiled terraced steps along the wall. Afterwards, we spent the rest of the afternoon wandering through the streets, the parks, and through other landmarks like the beautiful Plaza de España. After a lot of walking, we sat in an outdoor patio and shared a jar of sangria. I have come to the realization that I don’t like sangria very much, because the mixture of artificial and naturals sugars combined with the numerous forms of alcohol are simply too much for my taste buds and my stomach to handle. It’s a little unfortunate since sangria is a traditional Spanish drink and I now live in Spain, but try as I might, I can’t take more than one small glass.
On Friday night, SK led us to another great tapas restaurant where we shared croquetes de jamón, spinach tortilla, fried artichokes, and patatas bravas. We spent the rest of the night at a famous flamenco bar. Hundreds of people were crammed into this large, low-ceilinged room filled with bench seats and small tables. Along part of one wall was a small wooden stage where the flamenco performers sat. A guitar player who looked a little like Johnny Depp, a flautist, a singer whose singing sounded more like a Native American chant, and a beautiful woman wearing a striking red outfit all sat playing their instruments, clapping their hands, and stomping their feet to create a strange and hypnotic rhythm. The flamenco dancer rose from her chair and worked her magic on the stage. Her feet moved like lightening and produced the sound of thunder. Her hands spun around her head and her body turned in calculated motions. It was incredible to see the real deal—a real Spanish flamenco show—right in front of me (I was literally standing 5 feet away from the stage). Eventually, a man joined the woman and the two moved together in a passionate display of dancing that made the movie Center Stage look sexy as the Nutcracker.
On Saturday morning, a light rain dampened the city, but it did not dampen our spirits. Shenning, Alejandra, and I toured the Alcazar Palace, and we were in awe of the enchanting gardens and stunning architecture, again a testament of the Moorish influence. Of all the palaces and beautiful buildings that I’ve seen in my life’s travels, the Alcazar of Sevilla was perhaps the most impressive and most pleasant. Apparently, the thing to do in Sevilla is get married on Saturday in the fall and then go to the Alcazar to take your wedding pictures. We saw at least 7 or 8 wedding couples in the gardens alone! Later that day, we noticed that two different weddings were being held in the cathedral at the same time. Yeah… maybe that will help give you an idea of just how big La Catedral really is.
Saturday afternoon we were treated to a free lunch on the rooftop of our hostel. Blue sky replaced the rain clouds, and we enjoyed a delicious “home-cooked” meal of Andalusian vegetable soup and a bottle of fino (their typical sherry white wine). Afterwards, we took a tour of the Plaza de Torros and sat in the oval stadium where the matadors take on the bulls in the spring and summer months. An informative tour of the grounds and a small museum explained the history, the rules, the methods, and the traditions of bull fighting in Spain. It seems quite gruesome and I doubt I would enjoy it, but I think I’ll have to go to a bull fight at least once while I’m in Spain.
Saturday night was the big finale to our weekend in Sevilla. SK took us to another famous and wonderful tapas restaurant called Taberna Coloniales, which is in a less touristy part of town. While we waited, we had a glass of wine and practiced Spanish and English tongue twisters. [Side note: I’m so glad that Alejandra came with us for the weekend, because with her there, we spoke in Spanish almost the entire weekend. I was right to mention in my previous post about her being my saving grace when it comes to practicing my Spanish. Already after living with Alejandra for two weeks, my Spanish speaking capabilities have probably doubled and maybe even tripled from where it was one month ago.] That night, we had the best meal that I’ve had since arriving in Spain. We ordered a goat cheese plate that came with a blackberry jam, spinach croquetes, shrimp fritters, chicken & potatoes with an alfredo sauce, and stuffed eggplant (my favorite dish since arriving in Spain). We also made friends that night with four Italian guys. They sent us drinks at dinner, introduced themselves, and we all toasted “salut!” As it turned out, they had plans to go to the same flamenco bar SK was going to take us to, and the eight of us all made our way across the river to find it. SK was a great guide and we found the bar with no problem, but it was so full that at first, we could go no further than the doorway. This flamenco joint was different than before; it was more local and the ones running the show were older Sevillians who do this kind of thing out of traditional fun and celebration. It was cool to get a different aspect of how and who can perform the flamenco. After a spending enough time in cramped quarters and finishing off our vino del verano, compliments of the Italians, we moved on to another bar down by the river walk. We chatted with our Italian friends in Spanish and hung out for a while until we decided to actually take our little party to the small path next to the river for a while. Sometime after 4:00 AM, we started walking back towards our hostels, and we parted with invitations to and from Madrid and Lecce, Italy.
As if the night wasn’t long enough, we decided to check out the loud bar on the street directly in front of our hostel. It was close to 5:00 AM, but the music was pumping out and there were people still hanging out. Finally, around 6:00 AM, we crawled into our beds and slept for a couple of hours before we had to pack up, get breakfast, and walk to the bus station to catch our 10:00 AM bus departing for Madrid. I did manage to get a little more sleep on this bus ride than before, but needless to say, getting into my bed Sunday night back in Madrid was a beautifully blessed thing. It was a fantastic weekend, and I am so glad to have experienced a little bit of southern Spain and to have shared it with mis amigas. Sevilla wouldn’t be complete without our list of C’s: churros, chocolate, café, cama, caminando, la Catedral, Cristóbal Colon, las calles y caminos, cerveza, chicos.
For pictures, please check out my Facebook Album!!
Saturday, October 11, 2008
It's been one week...
I have survived my first full week on the job, and my life in Madrid is slowly moving away from the dreamlike stage into a beautiful reality. In fact, so much has happened in the past week that I don’t even know where to begin!
Working with kids has always been a joy and a pleasure for me, and I am very happy to be with my 2nd and 3rd graders. This week I have committed to memory the names of several bones, joints, and muscles after repeating them a dozen times a day to my second graders. Also, I have been Exhibit A when demonstrating where you find them on your body. I have tried my hardest not to catch Valentina picking her boogers and eating them. I have to tell Alex, Mario, Cristina, and basically every other kid in my class to sit down, to turn to page 12, and to pay attention to the lesson. I’m not sure if they’re actually learning anything, especially when Fernanda can’t even give me the name for knee. However, I still have hope for them all, inspired by the little things like when Sergio comes up to me with a completed and correct workbook activity. Shh… don’t tell, but I think Sergio might be my favorite.
In my third grade science class, I found out that British text books refer to the continent of Australia as Oceania. When Pilar asked me how to pronounce it, I got my first homework assignment. (By the way, it’s either oh-she-ANN-ee-ah or oh-she-ANN-ah) I’ve also encountered problems with the fact that these kids are used to listening to British pronunciation. Por ejemplo, I knelt down at Ivan’s desk to correct a mistake he made in his journal. He wrote that his birthday was “in November 14…” and I told him to erase “in” and replace it with “on.” He nodded his head, erased the word, and wrote “an.” I said, “No, not an… on, with an O.” I guess my American “on” sounded too similar to the British “an.”
I’m gradually getting to know the other teachers at my school through our Spanglish conversations at break and lunch. On Wednesday, I taught my two classes for some of the teachers. Maria, Marissa, and Concha are in my English I class, and I’ll be teaching them conversational lessons, like what to say when you go to the cinema, the store, the airport, etc. My English II class is after school and all of the teachers who speak English really well came this week… yeah, that’s not intimidating or anything. I floundered around for a little bit, but we ended up in a vehement discussion on the entire bilingual program in Spain. Spaniards are not afraid to voice their opinions, and Raquel, a pregnant second grade teacher, very adamantly expressed her thoughts on whether or not the children should have their science lessons in English or Spanish. I didn’t realize it until then, but I am involved in a controversial and relatively new experiment in Spain’s educational system. Schools are still exploring the different avenues of a bilingual program, and no one is really sure which method is the best.
I’m not supposed to speak Spanish with the kids, but I’ve let on that I know it. Whenever Robert pesters me and says, “¡Sabes español! ¡Sabes español!” I have to pretend that I don’t know what he’s saying. But he’s right. I do know Spanish. Or so I thought…
Spanish in Madrid is unlike any Spanish I have ever heard. I was aware of the Spanish theta, the infamous and impossible lisp that Madrileños and Barcelonans pride themselves on, but I’m still getting used to it. The theta is another example of regional differences in Spain, and Madrileños will sometimes pretend that they can’t understand your Spanish if you fail to employ their dialectic preferences, such as change ‘s’ sounds to ‘th.’ Also, I’ve had to adjust to the vosotros verb form, which is the you-plural form (equivalent to Alabama’s y’all). Of all the Spanish-speaking countries in the world, vosotros is only used in Spain, and in all of my Spanish studies, I only learned it in the 9th grade. Luckily, it’s pretty easy to conjugate (just add –ais or –eis) and easy to pick out in a conversation.
I have been pretty discouraged and disappointed with my Spanish since I arrived to Madrid. I hadn’t really used it since my last Spanish class ended in February, but I came with the expectation that after studying abroad, I’d be able to slide back into it fairly easily. I did not expect the theta to be so problematic and I did not expect to have a severe drop in my vocabulary set. Since I speak English at my job, speak English with my fellow American friends, and listen to music in English, I was worried that my Spanish would never improve at the rate that I desire. Last Sunday, a bright and beautiful beacon of hope in restoring my Spanish walked into my life in the form of my new roommate.
Alejandra is from Colombia, and she’s here in Madrid earning her Master’s degree. She’s 24 years old, and in addition to being drop dead gorgeous, she has an endearingly kind heart and a reassuring smile that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. She is a blessed addition to my apartment, and we’ve already bonded over the excitement of living in a new country and the pains of being away from friends, family, and novios. What is amazing is that I can understand everything Alejandra says, which just proves my suspicion that I’m geared towards Latin American Spanish. Alejandra speaks English pretty well, and we have our own informal intercambio sessions in our piso. When I forget a word or a phrase, I can ask her how to say it in Spanish, and I’ve helped her one night with an English grammar test. And now that Alejandra is here, it’s made living with Angela a little more interesting. Or rather, I should say Angela probably thinks things are a little more interesting to live with someone who can understand her rapid slur of Spanish. Over the past week, I’ve been reaching out to my roommates, Alejandra and Angela, and I’m excited about spending more time with them. Despite the fact that I’m afraid of our toilet (the lever likes to break on me all the time), I feel very blessed to be living where I am.
I should mention that Sarah Henning is living in a town called Alcalá de Henares, the reported birthplace of Cervantes. Alcalá is a quaint town that’s about a 35 minute train ride outside of the city, and Shenning is living with 4 other Spanish girls. She’s teaching in a school outside of Alcalá and her commute is much shorter than it would be if she were living in Madrid. Unfortunately, I haven’t seen her since I helped her move before we started teaching on the 1st of October. However, I know I’ll see her when we travel to Sevilla next weekend!
I have been having a good time making new friends here in Madrid. Most of them are other Americans in my program, and my newest ‘best friend’ happens to also be named Sarah. I met Sarah Kolb in our hostel, and we’ve been hanging out a lot over the past couple of weeks. We’ve wandered around town and window shopped, we’ve gone out for tapas, and we’ve gone salsa dancing. Sarah has introduced me to other auxiliares that she had met, and thus the cycle of meeting people through other friends has begun. I met up with my friend Melissa to check out this cool café that has lots of second-hand books. I’ve finally met Nikki Hornig, Carolina’s best friend from last year, who is teaching for the second year, and I think she’s the bomb.com. We’re making plans to travel together. Although I miss my wonderful friends and the supportive community that I had at Furman, I am slowly creating my own community here. We may not live in the same apartment building or even in the same part of the city, but I am confident that I have found some solid friends to fall back on for comfort, fellowship, and fun.
In fact, I’m on my way out the door to hit the dance floor tonight!
Working with kids has always been a joy and a pleasure for me, and I am very happy to be with my 2nd and 3rd graders. This week I have committed to memory the names of several bones, joints, and muscles after repeating them a dozen times a day to my second graders. Also, I have been Exhibit A when demonstrating where you find them on your body. I have tried my hardest not to catch Valentina picking her boogers and eating them. I have to tell Alex, Mario, Cristina, and basically every other kid in my class to sit down, to turn to page 12, and to pay attention to the lesson. I’m not sure if they’re actually learning anything, especially when Fernanda can’t even give me the name for knee. However, I still have hope for them all, inspired by the little things like when Sergio comes up to me with a completed and correct workbook activity. Shh… don’t tell, but I think Sergio might be my favorite.
In my third grade science class, I found out that British text books refer to the continent of Australia as Oceania. When Pilar asked me how to pronounce it, I got my first homework assignment. (By the way, it’s either oh-she-ANN-ee-ah or oh-she-ANN-ah) I’ve also encountered problems with the fact that these kids are used to listening to British pronunciation. Por ejemplo, I knelt down at Ivan’s desk to correct a mistake he made in his journal. He wrote that his birthday was “in November 14…” and I told him to erase “in” and replace it with “on.” He nodded his head, erased the word, and wrote “an.” I said, “No, not an… on, with an O.” I guess my American “on” sounded too similar to the British “an.”
I’m gradually getting to know the other teachers at my school through our Spanglish conversations at break and lunch. On Wednesday, I taught my two classes for some of the teachers. Maria, Marissa, and Concha are in my English I class, and I’ll be teaching them conversational lessons, like what to say when you go to the cinema, the store, the airport, etc. My English II class is after school and all of the teachers who speak English really well came this week… yeah, that’s not intimidating or anything. I floundered around for a little bit, but we ended up in a vehement discussion on the entire bilingual program in Spain. Spaniards are not afraid to voice their opinions, and Raquel, a pregnant second grade teacher, very adamantly expressed her thoughts on whether or not the children should have their science lessons in English or Spanish. I didn’t realize it until then, but I am involved in a controversial and relatively new experiment in Spain’s educational system. Schools are still exploring the different avenues of a bilingual program, and no one is really sure which method is the best.
I’m not supposed to speak Spanish with the kids, but I’ve let on that I know it. Whenever Robert pesters me and says, “¡Sabes español! ¡Sabes español!” I have to pretend that I don’t know what he’s saying. But he’s right. I do know Spanish. Or so I thought…
Spanish in Madrid is unlike any Spanish I have ever heard. I was aware of the Spanish theta, the infamous and impossible lisp that Madrileños and Barcelonans pride themselves on, but I’m still getting used to it. The theta is another example of regional differences in Spain, and Madrileños will sometimes pretend that they can’t understand your Spanish if you fail to employ their dialectic preferences, such as change ‘s’ sounds to ‘th.’ Also, I’ve had to adjust to the vosotros verb form, which is the you-plural form (equivalent to Alabama’s y’all). Of all the Spanish-speaking countries in the world, vosotros is only used in Spain, and in all of my Spanish studies, I only learned it in the 9th grade. Luckily, it’s pretty easy to conjugate (just add –ais or –eis) and easy to pick out in a conversation.
I have been pretty discouraged and disappointed with my Spanish since I arrived to Madrid. I hadn’t really used it since my last Spanish class ended in February, but I came with the expectation that after studying abroad, I’d be able to slide back into it fairly easily. I did not expect the theta to be so problematic and I did not expect to have a severe drop in my vocabulary set. Since I speak English at my job, speak English with my fellow American friends, and listen to music in English, I was worried that my Spanish would never improve at the rate that I desire. Last Sunday, a bright and beautiful beacon of hope in restoring my Spanish walked into my life in the form of my new roommate.
Alejandra is from Colombia, and she’s here in Madrid earning her Master’s degree. She’s 24 years old, and in addition to being drop dead gorgeous, she has an endearingly kind heart and a reassuring smile that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. She is a blessed addition to my apartment, and we’ve already bonded over the excitement of living in a new country and the pains of being away from friends, family, and novios. What is amazing is that I can understand everything Alejandra says, which just proves my suspicion that I’m geared towards Latin American Spanish. Alejandra speaks English pretty well, and we have our own informal intercambio sessions in our piso. When I forget a word or a phrase, I can ask her how to say it in Spanish, and I’ve helped her one night with an English grammar test. And now that Alejandra is here, it’s made living with Angela a little more interesting. Or rather, I should say Angela probably thinks things are a little more interesting to live with someone who can understand her rapid slur of Spanish. Over the past week, I’ve been reaching out to my roommates, Alejandra and Angela, and I’m excited about spending more time with them. Despite the fact that I’m afraid of our toilet (the lever likes to break on me all the time), I feel very blessed to be living where I am.
I should mention that Sarah Henning is living in a town called Alcalá de Henares, the reported birthplace of Cervantes. Alcalá is a quaint town that’s about a 35 minute train ride outside of the city, and Shenning is living with 4 other Spanish girls. She’s teaching in a school outside of Alcalá and her commute is much shorter than it would be if she were living in Madrid. Unfortunately, I haven’t seen her since I helped her move before we started teaching on the 1st of October. However, I know I’ll see her when we travel to Sevilla next weekend!
I have been having a good time making new friends here in Madrid. Most of them are other Americans in my program, and my newest ‘best friend’ happens to also be named Sarah. I met Sarah Kolb in our hostel, and we’ve been hanging out a lot over the past couple of weeks. We’ve wandered around town and window shopped, we’ve gone out for tapas, and we’ve gone salsa dancing. Sarah has introduced me to other auxiliares that she had met, and thus the cycle of meeting people through other friends has begun. I met up with my friend Melissa to check out this cool café that has lots of second-hand books. I’ve finally met Nikki Hornig, Carolina’s best friend from last year, who is teaching for the second year, and I think she’s the bomb.com. We’re making plans to travel together. Although I miss my wonderful friends and the supportive community that I had at Furman, I am slowly creating my own community here. We may not live in the same apartment building or even in the same part of the city, but I am confident that I have found some solid friends to fall back on for comfort, fellowship, and fun.
In fact, I’m on my way out the door to hit the dance floor tonight!
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Segovia, Segovia
Through a surprise and spontaneous invitation to join the Furman study away group on their Saturday excursion to Segovia, I was able to get my first taste of Spain outside of Madrid. As our bus took us farther away from the cosmopolitan city, the gently sloping llanos (planes) and the ancient hills crept into view and eventually consumed every line of sight. Rock outcroppings dotted the yellow paisaje and the partly cloudy sky cast a grey hue over the land that added to the desolate beauty. Segovia is an ancient Spanish town, situated in the heart of the Castile-Leon province just an hour north of Madrid, and, in conjunction with the numerous legends that circulate throughout the land, it is a magical and enchanting place.
Four major sights define Segovia: the Roman aqueduct, the Catedral, the Alcázar castle, and the Church of Vera Cruz. The 2,000 year old aqueduct stretches over the charming Plaza del Azoguejo, and it’s an impressive testament to the architectural accomplishments of the Romans during their occupation of the Iberian Peninsula at the height of Rome’s expansive empire. The aqueduct continued bringing water to Segovia until the 1950s, and the large cut stones remain in place without mortar.
The Catedral and the Alcázar dominate Segovia’s profile, which can be seen from miles away because the city rests on a small hill. The Catedral de Segovia is considered the last Gothic-style cathedral built in all of Europe (1522-1577). The Alcázar is the castle-palace where los reyes católicos, Ferdinand and Isabel, lived and reigned. The rooms are large and lofty; knights in shining armor stand guard; los tronos nobly wait for the day their kings will return to rule; and the ghostly glory of the power of Castile echoes throughout the castle. Part-fortress (complete with draw-bridge and armory), part-home, the Alcázar is a fairy-tale castle and every child’s dream.
La Iglesia de la Vera Cruz is another ancient landmark. The tiny, crumbling church sits outside the city and in the shadow of the castle. The Church of Vera Cruz was built by the Knights Templar, but has since fallen into the maintenance of the Knights of Malta. The interesting story behind it is that the church was built on top of a highly energetic, highly unstable piece of land where the ground water churns con mucho energía after lots of rain. Consequently, numerous bodies that were interred in the tumultuous earth have begun to resurface. Small pieces of human bone litter the dusty grounds surrounding the church. Also, along one wall of the church, small graves cut from rock lay open and bare, the forms of the human body clearly evident. Needless to say, we were all fascinated by the tiny pieces of human remains that we found, but Carmen—a Nebrija professor who teaches the Furman kids and serves as a guide on their excursions—would have none of it. Her Spanish superstitions got the best of her, I think.
Carmen gave us an informative and succinct tour of Segovia in the morning, never missing an opportunity to tell some story of legend, and after we saw the major sights, we had free time to explore more of Segovia. Some of us sat in the Plaza Mayor and ate sack lunches (provided by their señoras… oh how great it is to study abroad), and some friends generously shared their extra food with me. Afterwards, we stopped by a famous pastry shop, Limón y Menta, and I bought una porción de ponche segoviano—a traditional dessert of sponge cake coated with marzipan—and it was a delicious treat. Next, a small group of Furman students and I went off in search of El Oso Blanco, a restaurant reported to have the best sangria in all of Spain. We found the restaurant-pub tucked away off the main road, and we saddled up to the small bar. A large man behind the counter asked us what we wanted, and we figured we needed one jar of sangria for six of us to share. Jesús prepared the famous Spanish drink right in front of us. First, he dumped an incredibly unhealthy portion of sugar into the jar, tossed in broken cinnamon sticks, and squeezed some lemon juice over it. Next, he peeled an orange in a spiral and placed the entire rind inside. Then he filled the jar with ice cubes, poured three different liquors and a box of vino tinto into the jar, and garnished it with a branch of mint. Jesús cut up slices of orange, apple, melon, kiwi, banana, and after bringing out six glasses and carefully placing ice cubes in each, he then distributed the fruit slices among them. Oh, and there actually was a cherry on top. He poured the beautiful dark red liquid into our glasses, and lastly topped off each cup with a splash of some kind of brandy. Cheers to the best sangria I will probably ever have! As if that were not enough, Jesús later brought out small dishes of the best tortilla española I’ve ever put in my mouth. Tortilla española is a traditional Spanish dish that comes in a variety of flavors and forms, and often it’s defined as a Spanish-omelet with potatoes but looks more like a quiche. Whatever kind of tortilla española Jesús brought us was simply heavenly, and to make things even better, it was on the house. At El Oso Blanco, we were treated like the kings and queens of the Alcázar, and it was the perfect way to pass the time and discover the charming personality of small-town Spain.
Perhaps this is what Azorín meant when he wrote about la España invisible: Esta España humilde, prístina, sencilla, no la pueden ver todos. Y ésta, sí, ésta es la España apretada sobre nuestro corazón, ésta es la más querida de todas las Españas.
This humble, pristine, simple Spain, not everyone can see it. And this, yes, this is the Spain held tight over our heart; this is the most beloved of all the Spains.
Four major sights define Segovia: the Roman aqueduct, the Catedral, the Alcázar castle, and the Church of Vera Cruz. The 2,000 year old aqueduct stretches over the charming Plaza del Azoguejo, and it’s an impressive testament to the architectural accomplishments of the Romans during their occupation of the Iberian Peninsula at the height of Rome’s expansive empire. The aqueduct continued bringing water to Segovia until the 1950s, and the large cut stones remain in place without mortar.
The Catedral and the Alcázar dominate Segovia’s profile, which can be seen from miles away because the city rests on a small hill. The Catedral de Segovia is considered the last Gothic-style cathedral built in all of Europe (1522-1577). The Alcázar is the castle-palace where los reyes católicos, Ferdinand and Isabel, lived and reigned. The rooms are large and lofty; knights in shining armor stand guard; los tronos nobly wait for the day their kings will return to rule; and the ghostly glory of the power of Castile echoes throughout the castle. Part-fortress (complete with draw-bridge and armory), part-home, the Alcázar is a fairy-tale castle and every child’s dream.
La Iglesia de la Vera Cruz is another ancient landmark. The tiny, crumbling church sits outside the city and in the shadow of the castle. The Church of Vera Cruz was built by the Knights Templar, but has since fallen into the maintenance of the Knights of Malta. The interesting story behind it is that the church was built on top of a highly energetic, highly unstable piece of land where the ground water churns con mucho energía after lots of rain. Consequently, numerous bodies that were interred in the tumultuous earth have begun to resurface. Small pieces of human bone litter the dusty grounds surrounding the church. Also, along one wall of the church, small graves cut from rock lay open and bare, the forms of the human body clearly evident. Needless to say, we were all fascinated by the tiny pieces of human remains that we found, but Carmen—a Nebrija professor who teaches the Furman kids and serves as a guide on their excursions—would have none of it. Her Spanish superstitions got the best of her, I think.
Carmen gave us an informative and succinct tour of Segovia in the morning, never missing an opportunity to tell some story of legend, and after we saw the major sights, we had free time to explore more of Segovia. Some of us sat in the Plaza Mayor and ate sack lunches (provided by their señoras… oh how great it is to study abroad), and some friends generously shared their extra food with me. Afterwards, we stopped by a famous pastry shop, Limón y Menta, and I bought una porción de ponche segoviano—a traditional dessert of sponge cake coated with marzipan—and it was a delicious treat. Next, a small group of Furman students and I went off in search of El Oso Blanco, a restaurant reported to have the best sangria in all of Spain. We found the restaurant-pub tucked away off the main road, and we saddled up to the small bar. A large man behind the counter asked us what we wanted, and we figured we needed one jar of sangria for six of us to share. Jesús prepared the famous Spanish drink right in front of us. First, he dumped an incredibly unhealthy portion of sugar into the jar, tossed in broken cinnamon sticks, and squeezed some lemon juice over it. Next, he peeled an orange in a spiral and placed the entire rind inside. Then he filled the jar with ice cubes, poured three different liquors and a box of vino tinto into the jar, and garnished it with a branch of mint. Jesús cut up slices of orange, apple, melon, kiwi, banana, and after bringing out six glasses and carefully placing ice cubes in each, he then distributed the fruit slices among them. Oh, and there actually was a cherry on top. He poured the beautiful dark red liquid into our glasses, and lastly topped off each cup with a splash of some kind of brandy. Cheers to the best sangria I will probably ever have! As if that were not enough, Jesús later brought out small dishes of the best tortilla española I’ve ever put in my mouth. Tortilla española is a traditional Spanish dish that comes in a variety of flavors and forms, and often it’s defined as a Spanish-omelet with potatoes but looks more like a quiche. Whatever kind of tortilla española Jesús brought us was simply heavenly, and to make things even better, it was on the house. At El Oso Blanco, we were treated like the kings and queens of the Alcázar, and it was the perfect way to pass the time and discover the charming personality of small-town Spain.
Perhaps this is what Azorín meant when he wrote about la España invisible: Esta España humilde, prístina, sencilla, no la pueden ver todos. Y ésta, sí, ésta es la España apretada sobre nuestro corazón, ésta es la más querida de todas las Españas.
This humble, pristine, simple Spain, not everyone can see it. And this, yes, this is the Spain held tight over our heart; this is the most beloved of all the Spains.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Teaching English Spanish-Style
My summer ended on Wednesday, October 1. In the brisk morning hours, I walked down Calle Don Ramón de la Cruz to the Manuel Bacerra Metro station, took the grey line two stops down to Sainz de Baranda, passed through Calle de La Moneda, and strolled up to Ciudad de Roma (my school), which is located on Calle Juan Espandiú. I waited for the portero, Juan, to let me pass through the gates, and I entered my workplace as an official employee. Immediately upon my arrival, I sat down in the teachers’ break room with the bilingual coordinator, Carmen, and the other three returning auxiliares: Sergio from California, Julie from Pennsylvania, and Arielle from Boston. Carmen passed out our schedules, explaining in Spanish that this year’s schedules were very difficult to create and are a little haywire. However, I don’t think I’ll be complaining. Here’s why.
Los Auxiliares de Conversación participating in Spain’s Bilingual Program are only allowed to work 16 hours/week, but as you can see, my hours of class time do not add up. This is what Carmen was talking about when she said that our schedules were crazy this year. I will use my “EM” (Elaboración de Materiales) hours to either prepare materials or pull kids out of their current class in order work with them individually or in small groups on their English lessons. Another responsibility of the auxiliaries is to teach the teachers. On Wednesdays, I will be holding conversational lessons for small groups of teachers, one lesson during the first half of our lunch break and one after school. As you can see, we have Fridays off (no, I’m not gloating at all… I’m just making plans to travel around Spain and Europe every once in a while). All in all, I think I have a great work schedule, and I’m very excited about my 2nd and 3rd grade kids.
Second Grade: I am working with one class of 23 second graders, helping with their English and Science lessons. Cristina, a tall and thin woman who pulls off the ever-popular skinny jeans better than a lot of teens, is my 2nd grade English teacher, but her English is just ok. My second grade class is a little difficult to manage, because there are at least 2 children out of their seats at any given time, and they hardly ever follow along with the lesson.
Many Americans would be shocked by the way Spanish schools operate and the methods employed for classroom management. I imagine that if a teacher from Spain were to conduct an American classroom in the same manner as her Spanish classroom, she would either be fired or sued within weeks. In just two days of school, I’ve seen more teachers yelling at their students, grabbing them to make them stand up when they are caught not paying attention, and exerting more effort in maintaining crowd control than on the actual lesson than I’ve seen in all my life. From an American standpoint, it seems quite harsh, ineffective, and just wrong. I don’t understand how the kids are expected to learn in such an environment, but I’m hoping my doubts will come to rest once I become more accustomed to the Spanish-teaching methods.
Third Grade: I’m already in love with my third grade class, and that’s partly because I’m so pumped to be working with Pilar. Pilar speaks English very well, and the things that come out of her mouth are hysterical. I think I’ll have to start keeping a list of Pilar Quotes to share with you all.
The third graders also have a greater grasp on English, which makes working with them more enjoyable. I like our science lessons better, too, because learning that “planets, stars, and satellites are the three types of celestial bodies” allows for a much more interesting vocabulary set than “the body is made up of three parts: the head, the trunk, and limbs” (something I’ve already said a dozen times to the 2nd graders).
More to come: As I left my school Wednesday afternoon, I was pleasantly satisfied with the idea of having a schedule and a job that will allow me to be flexible and creative and that will enable me to work with children and adults alike. As I’m about to dive into a new educational experience, I hope to share some fun and crazy stories with you along the way.
Los Auxiliares de Conversación participating in Spain’s Bilingual Program are only allowed to work 16 hours/week, but as you can see, my hours of class time do not add up. This is what Carmen was talking about when she said that our schedules were crazy this year. I will use my “EM” (Elaboración de Materiales) hours to either prepare materials or pull kids out of their current class in order work with them individually or in small groups on their English lessons. Another responsibility of the auxiliaries is to teach the teachers. On Wednesdays, I will be holding conversational lessons for small groups of teachers, one lesson during the first half of our lunch break and one after school. As you can see, we have Fridays off (no, I’m not gloating at all… I’m just making plans to travel around Spain and Europe every once in a while). All in all, I think I have a great work schedule, and I’m very excited about my 2nd and 3rd grade kids.
Second Grade: I am working with one class of 23 second graders, helping with their English and Science lessons. Cristina, a tall and thin woman who pulls off the ever-popular skinny jeans better than a lot of teens, is my 2nd grade English teacher, but her English is just ok. My second grade class is a little difficult to manage, because there are at least 2 children out of their seats at any given time, and they hardly ever follow along with the lesson.
Many Americans would be shocked by the way Spanish schools operate and the methods employed for classroom management. I imagine that if a teacher from Spain were to conduct an American classroom in the same manner as her Spanish classroom, she would either be fired or sued within weeks. In just two days of school, I’ve seen more teachers yelling at their students, grabbing them to make them stand up when they are caught not paying attention, and exerting more effort in maintaining crowd control than on the actual lesson than I’ve seen in all my life. From an American standpoint, it seems quite harsh, ineffective, and just wrong. I don’t understand how the kids are expected to learn in such an environment, but I’m hoping my doubts will come to rest once I become more accustomed to the Spanish-teaching methods.
Third Grade: I’m already in love with my third grade class, and that’s partly because I’m so pumped to be working with Pilar. Pilar speaks English very well, and the things that come out of her mouth are hysterical. I think I’ll have to start keeping a list of Pilar Quotes to share with you all.
The third graders also have a greater grasp on English, which makes working with them more enjoyable. I like our science lessons better, too, because learning that “planets, stars, and satellites are the three types of celestial bodies” allows for a much more interesting vocabulary set than “the body is made up of three parts: the head, the trunk, and limbs” (something I’ve already said a dozen times to the 2nd graders).
More to come: As I left my school Wednesday afternoon, I was pleasantly satisfied with the idea of having a schedule and a job that will allow me to be flexible and creative and that will enable me to work with children and adults alike. As I’m about to dive into a new educational experience, I hope to share some fun and crazy stories with you along the way.
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