I had the classes of my dreams today at Codreanu High School. Trent and I taught the first session together, then I took a group of three out of the large group to work with the second session. I found a poem by a Texas poet, Beverly Caldwell, called "And Every Town Its Dairy Queen." In the poem, she describes a group of old farmers coming to the Dairy Queen for a cup of coffee after a hard day's work. I loved the poem because I will never forget Sundays at Roger's Malt Shop and family vacations to New Braunfels, when even our dog got her own ice cream cone at Dairy Queen. The kids did a fabulous job analyzing the poem with me, and they asked to create their own slideshow to show us who they are, what they love about their town, and what's important to them. They're even going to let me bring them home with me! One of my girls, Maria, who is here visiting her grandmother, doesn't have access to digital pictures, but she's going to paint something that she feels represents herself--and yes, I get to bring it home! How great is that! (I was thankful to learn that she didn't read Les Miserables in French; she knows German, not French, but if she did, I know she'd read it in the original language!)
These students are incredibly bright and intrinsically motivated. I asked them why they were coming to the class instead of enjoying their time off from school, and Oana said she wanted to better herself. They're surprised by the lack of interest many Americans show in school (they've heard plenty from the former volunteers; I hardly needed to confirm it). To them, getting educated and doing well in school is important. Most of them want to leave Barlad, work in other countries, especially the United States, and some of them don't want to come home again. There's such an vast generational difference; grandmothers wearing scarves on their heads and long skirts, young girls wearing even scantier clothing than our young people do back home. It saddens me that most of the kids want to leave (Raluca doesn't; she wants to work in Bucharest and visit her family regularly). They have so much to contribute, but no motivation to stay her and contribute. I wonder what will happen in the future.
I learned that August is the time of year that Romanians working in Italy come home for the month (apparently work comes to stop in August) and that just about every family in Romania has a number of relatives working there. I know why going through the Rome airport was such a bad choice now! Live and learn, I suppose. I guess I can say that while I waited to board the bus to the plane that I was already immersed in Romanian culture!
Tomorrow we go to the zoo; I can't wait!
On the way back to the hotel we stopped at a supermarket to buy water; I made my first purchase in Romania, a six pack of bottled orange juice for $11 lei (about $3.50 American). We also stopped by Mihaela's apartment so she could pick up a cell phone. We didn't go in, but she brought out a chicken and vegetable meatball for each of us. Her mother had just made them. Absolutely delicious! And the best part? The teachers will get to go to her apartment one day for lunch for more! What a treat!
These students are incredibly bright and intrinsically motivated. I asked them why they were coming to the class instead of enjoying their time off from school, and Oana said she wanted to better herself. They're surprised by the lack of interest many Americans show in school (they've heard plenty from the former volunteers; I hardly needed to confirm it). To them, getting educated and doing well in school is important. Most of them want to leave Barlad, work in other countries, especially the United States, and some of them don't want to come home again. There's such an vast generational difference; grandmothers wearing scarves on their heads and long skirts, young girls wearing even scantier clothing than our young people do back home. It saddens me that most of the kids want to leave (Raluca doesn't; she wants to work in Bucharest and visit her family regularly). They have so much to contribute, but no motivation to stay her and contribute. I wonder what will happen in the future.
I learned that August is the time of year that Romanians working in Italy come home for the month (apparently work comes to stop in August) and that just about every family in Romania has a number of relatives working there. I know why going through the Rome airport was such a bad choice now! Live and learn, I suppose. I guess I can say that while I waited to board the bus to the plane that I was already immersed in Romanian culture!
Tomorrow we go to the zoo; I can't wait!
On the way back to the hotel we stopped at a supermarket to buy water; I made my first purchase in Romania, a six pack of bottled orange juice for $11 lei (about $3.50 American). We also stopped by Mihaela's apartment so she could pick up a cell phone. We didn't go in, but she brought out a chicken and vegetable meatball for each of us. Her mother had just made them. Absolutely delicious! And the best part? The teachers will get to go to her apartment one day for lunch for more! What a treat!
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