20 March 2009

Primavara A Venit

As I sit in my room at the tail-end of a long day, listening to "Beautiful Otherness" by the Nottingham, England-based group, Bent, I feel a pleasant feeling of contentedness. Today was a good day, finishing out a fairly good week.

My Fridays are always a bit easier to swallow than the other weekdays. While I must rise early, my eight o'clock class eighth-form class is both the beginning and end of the school day for me. Despite an epic battle between my alarm clock and my dreams, I managed to get out the door in time. On my way to school, ignoring the frost and biting breeze, I observed the year's first bright red squirrel bounding down a tree on some dangerous mission, its strangely long ears and scraggly tail bringing a smile to my face. I seem to remember hearing a bird slamming its beak into some nearby tree, as well. Ah, so spring my finally have arrived! Indeed, small buds were even beginning to push forth on the tips of small tree branches.

The rest of my Friday mornings are spent teaching English to a group of adults at a local social services organization. Teaching this group is extremely fun for me -- partly because the "students" are much more engaged and interested in their studies, but also because I have the opportunity to socially interact with people who are not younger than me. A fringe benefit that is worth noting, is that I am not restricted by any National Curriculum, and can thus teach pertinent material at whatever pace is most appropriate. Teaching English outside of the classroom has rapidly become my preferred mode.

This Friday class is relatively new. Today, it tripled in size to an impressive head-count of nine. Among the new attendees was a priest, who I hadn't seen in town before. At the end of class, I asked him which church he was with, and he informed me that he is actually the priest at a nearby monastery. I told him that I have been on the edge of my seat to visit some of the monasteries around my town, and he immediately offered to show me around his.

After a short 10 km drive, we stepped through a great iron gate and onto the modest monastery ground. In fact, we entered the convent, for this was home to a devote group of women, and the only men were the two or three priests and some helpers (such as our chauffeur). The priest explained the history of the 200-year-old community and convent, including the Soviet decades in which the churches had served as a sport center and a night club.

The monastery was practically destroyed during the Soviet period, but it received official support again in 1994. It wasn't until 2003 that work began to restore the main church. The project, supported by local communities and the larger church, was finished a year later. This smaller church was not as badly damaged and will wait for the relatively minor repairs it needs. Seeing both of these churches, hearing the history of the monastery, speaking with the priest, and seeing some few aspects of daily life among the women -- all of these were exceptional treats for me, and I look forward to further conversation with the priest.

It seems that the coming of spring may bring budding social opportunities, in addition to furry squirrels, flowering trees, and (hopefully) warm weather.

18 March 2009

A Threatening Black Cloud Has Passed

Those in Peace Corps service often face what is called "Early Termination" (ET), which is to return home before the full 27 months of volunteer service. Sometimes, it is the result of some event at home which requires their return. Other times, it is the inability or unwillingness to continue service under varying degrees of difficult lifestyle or work. Almost none of us enter Peace Corps expecting to ET, and those who do return home early do so only after much struggling, I imagine.

A few weeks ago, for the first time, I seriously weighed the possibility of ETing. After two weeks of solitude (due to illness, cold weather, and only minimal social opportunities in my town), I returned finally to the classroom. As in the States, students are often unresponsive in class, and all but the most stoutly confident instructors stumble at the lack of any apparent appreciation students may have for them. I am not, to be sure, a stoutly confident instructor when it comes to my students' valuation of me. That, coupled with my feelings of intense isolation among my community, contributes to a recurring sensation that my service is not welcome. And, as the thinking goes, if my service is not welcome, then why am I here? In my case, the face of this uncertainty and isolation is the face of Early Termination.

The straws which didn't break the camel's back, but still managed to put it in critical condition: some species of cold virus, a week-long spring vacation, and a subsequent two-week absence from school. Being out of the classroom for two weeks set me up for a huge shock when I returned. It was during those first few hours that I found myself contemplating a plane ride home. As the day progressed, however, I slowly fell into an attitude of dull, subconscious resignation toward teaching. One thing I realized: I am not a high school teacher. I enjoy teaching English, but I have patience for neither adolescent attention spans, nor semi- and unmotivated students.

But the day progressed and improved. I had hit bottom, and if there is one thing that tends to happen when one hits bottom, it would be to bounce back. I floated through the remaining classes. The day prior had been 8 March, International Women's Day, and the fifth graders were following Monday classes with a short performance honoring their female teachers and beloved mothers. In need of a positive focus, I decided to sneak in to see and to hear the cheerful celebrations of these young students. This put the first smile on my face, thereby breaking the mood and opening the way for further bouncing back.

After the performance, several of the teachers (male and female) and I conducted ourselves to a local restaurant to further celebrate 8 March. Over pizza and some more traditionally Moldovan food, the teachers happily chattered about life and sang songs (which most of them mostly knew). And while I sat amidst their company, I could feel my spirits rising. The negative effects of social isolation are quickly dispelled, as it were.

The celebrations concluded with one of our fellow teachers inviting a small group of us to her house for tea and further conversation. In the seven months I had lived in the town, this was the first time I had personally been invited to any person's house for a social purpose. Despite a calm exterior, I was altogether elated. Even though my confidence in my Romanian does not yet permit me to participate in the discussion more than haphazardly, I am thrilled to be included in any socializing among my Moldovan colleagues and friends. At the end of the day, I was feeling great and ready to get on with being a volunteer. In fact, the rest of the week was among my best since I arrive in Moldova. I started several tutoring classes, recommitted myself to previously suspended clubs, and began to feel more secure in my place in the town, despite the isolation.

Hitting the bottom permitted me to reassess my personal goals in Moldova. It confirmed that I do not consider myself a teacher of public secondary education, by nature. But it also showed me that I can (even if only occasionally) feel very welcome by my community.