School Daze

We are now into the fourth week of school and life is beginning to settle into a routine. Both of us have a full workload of about 20 classes a week, including Saturday classes. School here currently is six days a week, although there are rumors it may change to a five-day week in the next few years. We are teaching everything from third grade to eleventh grade. Most of the instructions to students are in Armenian, so there are daily challenges to understand what is being said. Both of us love our schools, our counterparts (the other English teachers), and especially the students.

We have encouraged the students we teach to talk to us when we are out and about in town, so everywhere we go there is usually a chorus of "hello" and "how are you". Each class begins with "good morning/afternoon children", to which the students reply "good morning/afternoon teacher. How are you?" We then say "I am fine. How are you?" The students then say "I am fine thank you." And then they sit down and class begins.

On Sunday afternoon we went with a group of Fred's 8th graders on a short hike to a small church outside of town. We were gone for 3 1/2 hours and the kids could have stayed longer. We played soccer (football), had sack races, ate some food, and even spoke a little English. The kids had a blast, and so did we. We can't say enough wonderful things about the children. They are amazing in every way and we love being around them.

This weekend we will head to a meeting with our counterparts where we will learn some techniques for team teaching. It's a pretty new idea for many teachers, and we are looking forward to getting some practical knowledge to use in our classes. It also will be nice to be away and to stay in a real hotel for two nights. And of course to see the other TEFL volunteers who are scattered around the country. Some of our fellow teachers are as much as 14 hours away from us by public transit. The closest are still two hours away, so we haven't done much visiting yet. We have a one week break at the end of October and hopefully the weather will be nice enough that we can go see some sights in the southern part of the country.

We continue with Armenian lessons three times a week and little by little we are learning how to speak, read and write. Sometimes the progress feels very slow, but at least it's progress. Okay, back to school for the last class of the day.

Traveling and Hostel Stays in Armenia

I have finally gotten the chance to experience the challenges of public transit in Armenia. On Thursday, I rode on my first marshutni (mini-van) from our village to the Capital. Fortunately I had one of the local people help me buy a ticket and I was able to get the front seat by the window. The roads between here and the capital are very windy with lots of switchbacks. Not so good for someone like me who gets carsick even when I drive. But our trip there was smooth and fast with only a hint of nausea on the way. We actually get incredibly close to Azerbaijan on the road, and can see the Armenian and Azerbaijan army bunkers with soldiers at the ready. But that's another story.

So having successfully gotten to Yerevan, I managed to find a metro station (yes, I asked where it was in Armenian) and met some other volunteers near Republic Square. We walked to the hostel were the volunteers stay when they come to town. Here's a plug for the Envoy Hostel if you're ever in Yerevan. For 5500 dram a night (about US $15), you get clean sheets, a bed, blanket, pillow, hot shower, bathrooms with toilets that flush, and breakfast. Quite a deal.

I was never in a dorm in college, and now I know what I missed (there are both good and bad to this, but only the good is reported here). In our room, we filled the 8 bunks with both men and women ranging in age from 20s to 60s. It actually was a lot of fun laying around in PJs and talking until late in the evening. And I have to say that the showers at this place are unbelievably good--especially when you come from a village with little or no water. It was awesome.

So Saturday morning I had to figure out how to get home. I could have taken the easy way out and called someone to make arrangements for me, but I figured now was as good a time as ever to see what I could do on my own. I found a bus stop and got on a bus to go to the main bus station to buy my ticket. Having located the bus station, the next challenge was to find a place to buy tickets. First, I had to remember the Armenian word for ticket! Somehow, it all came together and I bought a ticket for the 2:30 bus back to Noyemberyan.

Then I had to get back to the hostel--easier said than done. The bus numbers going TO the city and different from those coming FROM the city. So, another chance to practice my Armenian. And of course every bus going where I wanted to go was completely overcrowded. 20+ people in a space meant for 10. I finally managed to get on a bus going in what I hoped was the right direction. Much to my surprise, I wound up reasonably close to where I intended to go and only had about a 10 minute walk back to the hostel.

One of the great things about meeting up with other volunteers, especially those who have been here for a while, is that they know where things are--like good breakfasts, coffee, shopping, etc. Several of us went out for french toast, bacon and REAL maple syrup. It was awesome!

Ok, so now for my trip home. I am now an old hand at getting to and from the bus station. So, I got back on another bus and arrived in time to get on the marshutni heading home. It was pretty full, but I managed to get a seat right behind the driver with a space next to me for my bags. That stoke of luck was not to last. A woman flagged us down and took up not only her seat next to me, but half of mine as well. Not to mention that it was incredibly hot and she must have come from a place with no water like me. For the next four hours I was crammed into a very small space with little or no ventilation. People here are afraid of having a breeze on them as they are convinced they will get sick (they may actually be right in some of this). Add to this all the curvy roads, and I was not a happy camper! Plus, we actually had to stop so two of the passengers could get out and drink beer!!

The trip home took a very, very long 4 hours (compared to 3 going down). We drove through rain, dense fog, and wind. I have to say that I was glad to arrive in one piece. With no air coming in, I was really, really carsick by the time we got here. Also, the drivers seem to pay little attention to the double lines in the middle of the road, and on highways with 4 lanes they drive wherever they want--passing on the left, right, into the breakdown lane, whatever. I loved passing trucks on curves in the fog when you couldn't see in front of you 10 feet. And if there had been a cow in the road (not an unusual proposition by any means), I don't even want to think what would have happened.

So we are going to Yerevan again on Wednesday. Now, the big question . . . do we take a taxi or a marshutni? Tune in next week for the next exciting installment of Travel in Armenia. . .

About water

In a country where water supply as a norm is intermittent, unreliable and of poor quality, our town is infamous for having it even worse. During the five weeks we've been here, we've had running water for a few minutes or a couple of hours only every four to eight days: the cisterns, barrels and buckets in our apartment do run dry. Some apartments in the neighborhood get less, and not everyone has cisterns, barrels and buckets like our Hamest does.

When there's running water, it's an event: we fill the buckets and cisterns, wash the dishes, go to the bathroom, shower, do some laundry — quickly, because we don't know for how long it will keep flowing. People who live higher up in the building don't get as much, apparently.

Even the spring water that's kept in bottles in the kitchen for drinking and cooking has run low at times, but that supply is readily replenished by a car trip a couple of kilometers out of town to some roadside spring up in the hills. Luckily Hamest has a car. And somehow everyone manages, although it isn't always easy. I hear it can be worse. In the winter people melt snow. In case you wonder, Susan and I drink no water that comes from the city supply, and we always run the spring water through the Peace Corps filters. Armenians don't really drink water, except when they use it to make coffee.

Still, the lack of water affects a lot of things: how fast you walk (not fast), when you stick your head outside the house (not during the hot hours), when you wash your dishes (all at once), how often you go to the bathroom (less often, unless you have an outhouse or don't have to flush for some other reason), whether you exercise (duh), etc. And you don't want to leave your home empty in the evenings lest the water comes on and there's no one there to fill everything up.

School, a mountain

I've now had three days of school.

The picture below is from the opening ceremony of the school year, showing some of the students interspersed with a couple of teachers and parents. Mostly we stood and waited.

This is not like any other job I've had. It's not even close to teaching at the Boston Academy of English, which is where Susan and I got our TEFL certifications. I work with three teachers, including my counterpart, Aghun, whom I'm very grateful for. Having had a couple of volunteers before, she knows what she's doing. I will teach kids from nine years old to 17, absolute beginner to fairly advanced - sometimes in the same class. My focus is conversation, but I help where I can.

One area of opportunity here is that the slow students are abandoned: teachers apparently see no point in making an effort to bring the slow students to a level where they can even follow what's going on in the class. There are reasons why students give up on many classes: they can pick the topics that will get them into university, and they don't see the need to study the other subjects. The slow students are still moved up every year, so there's a huge disparity in abilities in the same classroom.

I know I can't convey what the full experience is like, but I can at least list some of the ingredients, so here goes: the smell of burning trash coming in from the school yard; the oppressive heat of the sun entering in our south-facing room through the plastic sheets that cover the windows because winter will return one day; the once-an-hour rush of children in black dress shoes, neat black slacks or skirts and crisp white shirts; their sense of wonder at this foreign entity in their midst (me); the teachers' room next door full of matronly ladies with long flowery dresses (my coworkers); the barrel of water in the men's room, for flushing the squat toilets; the unfamiliar teaching methods employed by most teachers here; the recycled, outdated, unimaginative text books that are full of cute briticisms and other, less endearing errors; the tired wooden floors, the walls, the old desks...

This picture is from the English classroom. We're fortunate to have one: as far as I can understand, teachers in Armenia usually go from one room to the next. I will eventually take pictures of the students too, but for now I don't want to act like I'm there to see the exotic natives.

Last Sunday our host family took us on a trip way up in the mountains above town: the area looks almost inhabited, covered in forests and small fields, but there are little groups of low shacks here and there that are summer homes to families that come up with their cattle. Some apparently live there all year. Hamest, our home mother, used to live there in the summers as a child. Everyone has a dog, and these are herding dogs, not city dogs, so their temperament is different. Some look like wolves - and there are wolves up there. Hamest's father told us there are bears too in some areas, although I'm not sure there are all that many left. The landscape is incredibly beautiful, with ridge after mountain ridge covered in forest and pasture. It's much wilder-looking than anything in Western Europe. We saw no other roads than the dirt bump ride we were on, and the map doesn't show any either.

We went to the top of a mountain called Mets Gogdagh: it's not that high by Caucasus standards, only 2,000m (6,000 feet), like Lake Tahoe. But the 360-degree view was incredible. At the very top, there was a little stone circle around some carved stones with crosses on them, sort of like a little church without walls; we walked three times around the stones and then lit candles. Hamest's mother in law sacrificed a chicken from her own shack and stuck the feet and head between some rocks. The picture shows Mher (Hamest's younger son, who studies in Yerevan) and Robert (a nephew of Hamest who is in on of my classes). The car in the background is a Lada Niva 4-wheel drive - proof that the Soviet Union could produce some capable, sturdy technology.

From there we went to a spring/picnic area and had khorovats (fatty pork barbecued on the embers of a wood fire) for a few hours. A stray dog came by, but nothing else happened. As always at these places, there was spring water gushing out of a tap nearby. On our way home we visited a family Hamest and her father know and greeted them and their cows. Life for these people is truly reduced to its essentials: Americans on a camping trip live far better than they do. Well, at least the Americans have more STUFF, for better and worse!