That time I gave a toddler a violent children's book

At the grocery store in Florida this summer I snagged a sweet set of children's books. They are perfect for ESL.

This one, for example.

A bunch of animals putting on hats of assorted shades. Then, oops! there is a turkey who has a bit of a problem.

He just can't get it right!


I should have known, however, that this book was not culturally appropriate. No, it's not because there is a topless elephant, but rather a difference in the native flora and fauna of Spain. Here, they don't have delicious, succulent, beautiful turkey. A New World, specifically Mexican, animal, neither the turkey nor Thanksgiving are on Spanish children's radars.

I should have known this, as last year when we made a ballin' turkey at my school with feathers where the kids wrote what they were thankful for and all that jazz, the kids kept calling it the big chicken, much to my dismay.

It´s a TURKEY

So it was not surprising when my 3.5 year old student finished the story and was a slightly puzzled.

"Seño, why is the chicken bleeding?"

Good question, small one, good question.

Signs of Life

Loyal yet dwindling readership: I'm still alive. I will still be blogging. Let me explain myself.

I've been working at an English camp in rural Madrid province. As an English teacher, I've been braving the dangers of hundreds of children chanting in unison, edible-like substances that they continue to refer to as "food" in the cafeteria, and 5 hours of English class a day with a bunch of kids who were mistakenly led to believe that July means summer vacation. José, beer, the beach, and quiet time have been out the window since we got here.

On the positive side: the hours are long but I'm learning lots on how to be a good teacher. I'm living rent-free and my only expenditure is at a fine establishment called Antonio's Bar. The air is cool and refreshing. The countryside is beautiful, bucolic, and I´ve been taking nice runs around the nearby lake.

Photo courtesy of Sarah, of Love and Paella fame.

Plus the flesh-eating animals have shaved about 8 minutes off my running time.


Thinking positive.

In which I defy the laws of auxiliarship: Part five in an occassional series about how much I love my life

Wednesday night I was in step class and was super tired. I was doing the moves on the little step thing and then stepped wrong on my ankle and went down. I've had problems with my ankles for a few years and they are really prone to sprains and twists. In Turkey I had to wear a black boot around for a few weeks, as if I didn't stick out enough already. I sat down and Fer got me ice for my ankle. When class was over I walked at a señora speed back to my apartment. It was swollen but not too bad. I showered and got in pajamas and flopped down on the couch next to Laura and Rocio. I was sitting there with my ankle up, checking up on my usual haunts on the internet: email, facebook, blogspot, and my Spain application for next year.

Unrelated, but cool, photo from Bodrum, Turkey.

I had been waiting for a week or two to hear about my placement. I found out back in March that I would be in Andalucia for another year. This was great news, but Andalucia is a large place. I had filled out my preference sheet, stating that I wanted to be in an elementary school and mentioning at least 5 times that I wanted to be in MÁLAGA, but this did not guarantee anything. The system that places auxiliars takes into account your requests, but schools get assigned in a first-come-first-serve order, meaning the sooner you get your paperwork in the better chance you have of getting a good placement. CIEE, which has a few hundred positions in Andalucía, operates the same way. When they assign you a placement, meaning that you'll be in Andalucía, they then keep track the order in which people turn in their confirmation documents. I, knowing this is how that process works, had those documents turned around and sent back electronically in under 2 hours. No way this girl is going to rural Jaen.

So I had been waiting (im)patiently to hear about placements. When I opened my email and saw nothing from CIEE I had assumed they did not do placements that day and resigned myself to waiting until the next evening to maniacally check my application. Just to be sure, I opened my application, to see if anything had changed. I was in the middle of saying something to the roommates, my evening nightcap in hand, my swollen ankle up on the chair, when I suddenly gasped.

Participation Decision: (Confirmed 3/7/11)

Application Decision: (Accepted and Placed 5/18/11)
 
PLACED! I frantically looked around to see where the school was. And there it was:

PLACEMENT INFORMATION

29005357, C.E.I.P. Doctor Fléming
Pasaje Horacio Lengo, 3, 29006, Málaga, Málaga

That would be an elementary school in the dead center of Málaga.

Suddenly I forgot about my ankle and jumped up off the couch, clapping and whooping. Exactly what I wanted.

Until this moment I had sort of expected something to go wrong. I was confirmed, but, despite confirmation from CIEE that I was for sure participating, I expected someone from the Junta to notice and not allow me to come back. Two years is normally the maximum. Somehow I got in, sometimes I marvel at how incredibly lucky my life is. I've had nothing but good things for 23 years and am really, really blessed. I got on the phone to Jose and to my mom and dad and brother.

The ankle? It's a bit swollen, but it'll get better. You just can't pass up an opportunity to jump up and down in absolute joy, those moments are perfect. I'm coming back. I'm ecstatic.

Fringe benefits

As an auxiliar, I am burdened with a 12-hour workweek. While this does not include commute or much of the preparation time, it does leave an auxiliar with a large chunk of free time. When I have too much free time, I have found, I tend to watch a lot of reruns of The Office, and as the fine line between hunger and boredom blurs, I dedicate myself to eating ever more ridiculous foods, like oreos with whipped cream or something. (I really am a fat kid.)

Most auxiliars balance the free time to money ratio with clases particulares, or private English classes. With the Spanish economy in shambles, these classes are easy to find, as workers want to remain competitive and parents want their children to be well-educated. This year I have classes with both adults (hi Fernando!) and children. Classes are a great way to get teaching practice, and over the past year I've actually come to like them. One of the best benefits, however, are the moms.

Mom Benefit 1: Beverages and snacks
As it is unspeakable to have a guest in the house without offering them some sort of hot beverage or juice and a candy or cookie, they prepare elaborate coffee setups; trays with sugar, saccharine, water, juice, coffee, espresso, milk, etc. The mother of a little boy I have for class learned how to approximate American coffee using her espresso machine. After the requisite drink and chocolates (so much for cutting back on junk after New Years...), they continue making dinner, and my stomach starts grumbling when the smell of home cooked meals wafts into the room at 8:00 p.m.

Mom Benefit 2: Someone works in the campo
With many people in Spain still working on farms or living in the country, the families of my students almost always have a relative nearby who is harvesting some sort of produce. When they have produce to spare, which is a lot of the time, they will bring some to their city-dwelling relatives or will send them home from a weekend visit with 90 pounds of kiwi or something. This, obviously, is way to much for a normal-sized family to eat before it goes bad. Solution? Send the teacher home with a bag. Over the past year I've received huge bags of avocado, lemons, chirimoyo, and enough oranges to fill my kitchen ten times over. We had guacamole at least 3 times this past week.This is an awesome benefit, as fresh-squeezed orange juice from recently-picked Andalucían oranges is sooooooo good, and prevents scurvy!

Mom Benefit 3: Gifting and regifting
The holiday season just passed, and it is common to buy a small gift for people, as it is in the States. Of course the mothers never forget the americanas. This year a mother got me a set of body washes, lotions, and purfumes, which were even organic! That same mother in January then regifted to me a set of red and pink and orange striped mugs and spoons the family has received because they didn't "go" with her new kitchen decor and plates. As our kitchen decor is in the "this was free or was formerly part of a set but 3 of the cups broke so now it's just these ones" style, I gladly took them. Also, they for some reason match my comforter cover exactly. They must be from Carrefour...

Mom Benefit 4: A comerrrr
I have most of my classes in the evenings, which means that the moms are getting dinner ready for the family. Perhaps the best thing about mothers everywhere is their delicious, delicious food. I hope one day when I am a grandma the grandkids will be pumped to come over to my house because I'll stuff them with good food and then get tipsy at 7 p.m. on whiskey mixed with water and start telling funny stories about the stupid stuff their parents did. The mothers, knowing you are far from home, assume that you are subsisting on kebab and frozen pizza, and will occasionally express concern, exclaming "Mira qué seca está! La pobre... tan lejos..."

They will then set out on making another portion of whatever slice of heaven they are making. Today, for example, I got this wrapped up in tin foil and placed in a bag to take home.

Croquetas de pollo caseras, jamón serrano, limonada recién exprimida, y migas.

She also sent a hunk of vanilla cake. All but the migas, which I made, and the lemonade, which is from lemons sent by another mom, were from her. So good. Spanish people are very generous, a great quality, and something I hope to learn from.

A big cheers to moms everywhere!