Teaching at 6:45am isn’t a terrific way to start the week, however, I did everything possible to ensure a happy start to my week.
Last night I was asleep by 9:30. Now that I have to work on Saturdays, my weekends are cut much shorter. Yesterday, Alvaro and I spent the better part of the day with his extended family. I had a terrific time being with them and felt a major confidence boost with my Spanish, but the six hours intense immersion experience left me feeling exhausted. I was asleep at 9:30 and awoke this morning at 5:30 ready to take on the week.
Everything was great until I got to school and realized I should have eaten something. I skipped dinner last night because our giant Peruvian lunch was at 3pm. But this morning at 6am, was much further removed from my delicious aji de pollo and I was starved. Then my four person class quickly turned into a one person class because three students were late. I began the class with a review from last week, focusing solely on vocabulary. After two minutes of trying (rather unsuccessfully) to prompt my student with the word “landlord,” I had to check my lesson plans to make sure I was in the right chapter. Tough classes are particularly tough when they happen at 7am.
Thankfully another student walked in around 7 and I sighed with relief because I assumed she would have a better grasp of the vocabulary. The class started looking up, that is until I moved my chair and saw a gigantic cockroach mean inches from my book bag sitting on the ground. Somehow he flipped over and was lying on his back. I wasn’t about to touch him. I had a hard enough time dealing with large bugs but seeing as my day was heading downhill and fast, I just couldn’t do it. So he sat there, cockroach legs in the air, for the next 25 minutes until the class break.
During the break I found the sweet cleaning lady and asked if she could dispose of my unwelcome friend with a broom. After this, I was convinced that things would get better. A third student arrived but her phone rang 6 times in the span of fifteen minutes, on the seventh ring she apologized, grabbed her things and left.
As the hour approach 8am, I started to really dread my already dreadful “coaching and micro-teaching” at 9am. My usually comfortable wedges, were uncomfortable and I was hot because my Peruvian students hate AC. I needed coffee and the syrup like liquid served at Berlitz was not going to cut it. I immediately decided that if I had to sit through almost two hours of unpaid “coaching and micro-teaching,” I was going to be comfortable and I was going to have my coffee.
I walked home, changed, made coffee and spent a few minutes with Emmaline. I grabbed my books, took a deep breath and walked out the door. I rode the elevator with a sweet little boy in his stroller and his grey terrier. I walked along the street feeling like maybe, just maybe, Monday would start looking up. That thought quickly left my mind when in the next instant, the old man walking by me made a perverse kissing noise at me. This isn’t the first time this has happened, but it always irks me. I just keep walking, shaking my head in disgust and mumbling a variety of insults in English. I still haven’t decided which is worse, the young man who whistles as me or the old man who makes kissing noises. It’s probably a tie, they’re both repulsive.
I marched on to my micro-teaching, forcing myself to be in a better mood but that didn’t exactly help. Disinterested students, cockroaches and gross old men- all before 9am- can put a damper on even the best laid plans
Quaquer?
The institute where I am teaching, believes that it is important for their students to be exposed to a variety of teaching styles and accents when learning English. As a result, students are not assigned to one particular teacher, but rather, the teachers rotate between the groups regularly. Last night I had class with one of my favorite groups.
This group of three women is in Level 2 and they all speak surprisingly good English for being so early in the program. Since there are together every day for class, they have formed friendships between each other which makes the learning atmosphere more enjoyable. They are funny and sweet and their enthusiasm is one of the highlights of my job.
Last night, we were reviewing the words like/love/hate/enjoy. The task was for each student to think about when they were a young child and tell the class what they liked, loved, hated and enjoyed.
Merli started by telling the class that she, “loved to go swimming everyday but I hated to drink quaquer.” She and Eloisa burst into laughter as they reminisced about this horrid childhood drink. I didn’t have a clue what she was referring to, but didn’t ask because I wanted her to finish her statements. After she was done speaking and we had discussed a few corrections I asked, “Merli, what is quaquer?”
She told me, “It’s a drink, but is very dense. Sort of like yogurt.”
I still had no idea what she meant. I started to wonder if it was sort of like the very dense, yogurt like qwark that I loved in Germany, but you eat, not drink, qwark. Eloisa also struggled to come up with the words to adequately describe quaquer. I asked Merli how to spell the word and I wrote on the board:
Q-U-A-Q-U-E-R
And still, the language barrier was high. Finally, Eloisa pulled out her Blackberry and did a quick search for the translation of quaquer. The result: oats. As in Quaker oats.
I let out an enthusiastic, “Ohhhhhhh, Quaker oats!!!”
Everyone had a good laugh as we reveled in the relief of finally having the answer and in the realization that the words for “oats” is Spanish is nothing but a Spanishized version of the biggest name brand.
I then asked Merli, “But did you drink [making a drinking gesture with my coffee cup] the oats?”
“Yes,” she replied, “I drank them.”
Thinking that she was wrong, but yet surprised that at this level she didn’t know the difference between to eat and to drink. I said again, “No, but did you drink [again making the gesture] the oats?”
“Yes,” she said, “in Peru, we drink them. That’s why it’s so terrible.”
“Oh,” I replied, “that does sound terrible. In the States you eat them.” I completely agree. Drinking oatmeal sounds awful, no wonder she hated it as a kid. To that I would have to say no gracias.
This group of three women is in Level 2 and they all speak surprisingly good English for being so early in the program. Since there are together every day for class, they have formed friendships between each other which makes the learning atmosphere more enjoyable. They are funny and sweet and their enthusiasm is one of the highlights of my job.
Last night, we were reviewing the words like/love/hate/enjoy. The task was for each student to think about when they were a young child and tell the class what they liked, loved, hated and enjoyed.
Merli started by telling the class that she, “loved to go swimming everyday but I hated to drink quaquer.” She and Eloisa burst into laughter as they reminisced about this horrid childhood drink. I didn’t have a clue what she was referring to, but didn’t ask because I wanted her to finish her statements. After she was done speaking and we had discussed a few corrections I asked, “Merli, what is quaquer?”
She told me, “It’s a drink, but is very dense. Sort of like yogurt.”
I still had no idea what she meant. I started to wonder if it was sort of like the very dense, yogurt like qwark that I loved in Germany, but you eat, not drink, qwark. Eloisa also struggled to come up with the words to adequately describe quaquer. I asked Merli how to spell the word and I wrote on the board:
Q-U-A-Q-U-E-R
And still, the language barrier was high. Finally, Eloisa pulled out her Blackberry and did a quick search for the translation of quaquer. The result: oats. As in Quaker oats.
I let out an enthusiastic, “Ohhhhhhh, Quaker oats!!!”
Everyone had a good laugh as we reveled in the relief of finally having the answer and in the realization that the words for “oats” is Spanish is nothing but a Spanishized version of the biggest name brand.
I then asked Merli, “But did you drink [making a drinking gesture with my coffee cup] the oats?”
“Yes,” she replied, “I drank them.”
Thinking that she was wrong, but yet surprised that at this level she didn’t know the difference between to eat and to drink. I said again, “No, but did you drink [again making the gesture] the oats?”
“Yes,” she said, “in Peru, we drink them. That’s why it’s so terrible.”
“Oh,” I replied, “that does sound terrible. In the States you eat them.” I completely agree. Drinking oatmeal sounds awful, no wonder she hated it as a kid. To that I would have to say no gracias.
Fish Market
Lima smells like fish.
When I walk outside in the early morning or later in the evening, I am hit with an overwhelming smell that resembles that of the fresh fish section at Publix. Actually, I don’t even have to leave my apartment to enjoy the sweet stench rolling in from the ocean. Thanks to the lack of sealant in most Peruvian apartments, my windows are not completely sealed. Sure, they are closed, but there are small open spaces that allow for the horrid smell to be the first thing my senses register in the morning.
These small openings not only welcome this smell, but also an abundance and dirt and dust. Never before have I so genuinely appreciated the cleaning power of rain. Since it never rains in Lima, and the city is next to a desert, everything is coated in a terrible brown dust. Somehow this dust manages to find its way into my apartment. My entire apartment requires a weekly dusting and frequent vacuuming. Between the dust and Emmaline's hair, I feel like I am losing the war for cleanliness in my place. I now am beginning to understand why nearly every Peruvian family has maid.
The fish smell seeps into my apartment and wishes me a delightful good morning. In the evenings as I walk to work, the smell returns and accompanies me on my walk through the park. I have absolutely no idea why this phenomenon occurs. Alvaro says that it means winter is coming, but I’m not convinced that’s the source. It’s seems like one of those interesting associations that Peruvians use to describe every weather change and illness. My personal favorite is this on from Alvaro’s mom: “If you drink ice water, you will certainly get an immediate cold.”
When I walk outside in the early morning or later in the evening, I am hit with an overwhelming smell that resembles that of the fresh fish section at Publix. Actually, I don’t even have to leave my apartment to enjoy the sweet stench rolling in from the ocean. Thanks to the lack of sealant in most Peruvian apartments, my windows are not completely sealed. Sure, they are closed, but there are small open spaces that allow for the horrid smell to be the first thing my senses register in the morning.
These small openings not only welcome this smell, but also an abundance and dirt and dust. Never before have I so genuinely appreciated the cleaning power of rain. Since it never rains in Lima, and the city is next to a desert, everything is coated in a terrible brown dust. Somehow this dust manages to find its way into my apartment. My entire apartment requires a weekly dusting and frequent vacuuming. Between the dust and Emmaline's hair, I feel like I am losing the war for cleanliness in my place. I now am beginning to understand why nearly every Peruvian family has maid.
The fish smell seeps into my apartment and wishes me a delightful good morning. In the evenings as I walk to work, the smell returns and accompanies me on my walk through the park. I have absolutely no idea why this phenomenon occurs. Alvaro says that it means winter is coming, but I’m not convinced that’s the source. It’s seems like one of those interesting associations that Peruvians use to describe every weather change and illness. My personal favorite is this on from Alvaro’s mom: “If you drink ice water, you will certainly get an immediate cold.”
Whirlwind
Last week was a whirlwind. I went from having absolutely nothing to do to spending the entire week without barely a moment to sit down a breath. How did that happen?
My teaching schedule is mainly concentrated to very early morning hours and late evening hours. Since most of the school’s clients are business men and women, our peak hours are when they are not at work. I have been very fortunate this past week and have gotten nearly double the hours I was expecting to receive my first week. Based on the experience of a friend and what I heard during training, I was expecting only two lessons per day. Instead, I average four lessons per day all last week. It seems like my Americanness has finally paid off- I am getting so many hours in order to learn faster and therefore be trained for the higher levels. The school wants to “take advantage” of my native English.
Each day I have about 4.5 hours of actual teaching time, but I have been getting to the school early and staying late to ask questions, fill out paperwork and make sure I have remembered everything on the very detailed to-do list for each student. In addition to teaching hours, I spend at least one hour preparing for each two lessons. Add three hours of prep to 4.5 hours of teaching and my part time job just turned full time.
Last week was a constant rush of teaching, coming home, throwing together some food, preparing, going to yoga, more preparing, getting ready for work, more teaching, more preparing and then bedtime. The worst aspect of my job is that the next day’s schedule isn’t available until 8pm. Most evenings I teach until 9:45pm. I get my schedule for the next morning as I leave the school and inevitably, I have a class the next morning at 6:45am. My new routine is to eat a late dinner while frantically preparing for the next morning’s class. I am convinced that there is a better scheduling system, but no one is in a rush to develop it.
This is all good. I’m busy, I feel productive, I have a routine. In the midst of these, I am still searching for another job. Preferably one that provides weekly-or even monthly- schedules (what a novelty!) and one that is full time. My current hourly wage barely buys a cup of coffee, paying my rent is a long way off from that.
However, I am thankful. I am thankful that finally I have some sort of employment. It is far from ideal in every aspect. Currently, the only ideal thing about this job is the location, but I am convinced that any day now they will transfer me to the school an hour away from here. My game plan for that day is to play the pathetic American girl role and tell them that I simply can’t travel that far.
It’s a job, nothing more and certainly nothing less. I’ve already seen that this school offers little opportunities for promotion and performance or seniority isn’t rewarded with bonus or pay increase. I haven’t had the chance to speak to many other professors, but it surprises me that they would choose to stay in such a stagnant position.
I have to keep telling myself, “at least you have a job.” Though I am really hoping that another surfaces sooner rather than later.
My teaching schedule is mainly concentrated to very early morning hours and late evening hours. Since most of the school’s clients are business men and women, our peak hours are when they are not at work. I have been very fortunate this past week and have gotten nearly double the hours I was expecting to receive my first week. Based on the experience of a friend and what I heard during training, I was expecting only two lessons per day. Instead, I average four lessons per day all last week. It seems like my Americanness has finally paid off- I am getting so many hours in order to learn faster and therefore be trained for the higher levels. The school wants to “take advantage” of my native English.
Each day I have about 4.5 hours of actual teaching time, but I have been getting to the school early and staying late to ask questions, fill out paperwork and make sure I have remembered everything on the very detailed to-do list for each student. In addition to teaching hours, I spend at least one hour preparing for each two lessons. Add three hours of prep to 4.5 hours of teaching and my part time job just turned full time.
Last week was a constant rush of teaching, coming home, throwing together some food, preparing, going to yoga, more preparing, getting ready for work, more teaching, more preparing and then bedtime. The worst aspect of my job is that the next day’s schedule isn’t available until 8pm. Most evenings I teach until 9:45pm. I get my schedule for the next morning as I leave the school and inevitably, I have a class the next morning at 6:45am. My new routine is to eat a late dinner while frantically preparing for the next morning’s class. I am convinced that there is a better scheduling system, but no one is in a rush to develop it.
This is all good. I’m busy, I feel productive, I have a routine. In the midst of these, I am still searching for another job. Preferably one that provides weekly-or even monthly- schedules (what a novelty!) and one that is full time. My current hourly wage barely buys a cup of coffee, paying my rent is a long way off from that.
However, I am thankful. I am thankful that finally I have some sort of employment. It is far from ideal in every aspect. Currently, the only ideal thing about this job is the location, but I am convinced that any day now they will transfer me to the school an hour away from here. My game plan for that day is to play the pathetic American girl role and tell them that I simply can’t travel that far.
It’s a job, nothing more and certainly nothing less. I’ve already seen that this school offers little opportunities for promotion and performance or seniority isn’t rewarded with bonus or pay increase. I haven’t had the chance to speak to many other professors, but it surprises me that they would choose to stay in such a stagnant position.
I have to keep telling myself, “at least you have a job.” Though I am really hoping that another surfaces sooner rather than later.
The Q'ewar Project
This morning I was browsing the always dependable, Living in Peru, and stumbled across a a story about a small village located about an hour outside of Cucso. The village of Andahuaylillas boasts the Church of San Pedro which is freely called The Sistine Chapel of the Andes. San Pedro is the man tourist attraction in the small village that relies heavily on agriculture. Besides agricultural jobs, work in Andahuaylillas is very sparse, unless one is able to make the arduous commute to Cusco. Roughly nine years ago, two locals saw a need for steady employment for the women of Andahuaylillas and began what has grown into the Q’ewar Project.
This project creates beautiful, handcrafted Waldorf dolls by employing women to work in various workshops. Each stage of production is done using local, natural materials. All the workshops are working simultaneously to spin or dye cotton, stuff the dolls, knit clothing, make accessories and create hair and facial features. All of the dolls are dressed in clothing typical for the Peruvian highlands and some are given special outfits used primarily for festivals.
After watching a short documentary about the project, I was struck by how the project is about more than a salary. By working in the doll workshop, these women are able to work in a clean, relaxing environment, rather than working a difficult agriculture job that isn’t suited for a woman’s build. The project has also provided a nursery for the women’s children, so they no longer have to worry about caring for their children while working. A school has been established for the village’s poorest inhabitants that includes academic lessons, a warm meal, a hot shower, dental services and music lessons.
Now that these women are able to bring home a substantial salary, they are able to act as equals with their husbands. In a chauvinistic society, it is too often the case that left with no job opportunities, a woman must stay in an abusive relationship. Thanks to the Q’ewar Project, the women in that situation are able to provide for themselves and their children. The founders of the project seek to improve the over all quality of life for the woman working for them, this includes basic needs such as an in house bathroom. In order to make this a reality, at the end of their first year of work, each woman is given a S./500 bonus to be used for the sole purpose of building a bathroom with working toilet and shower. Woman who work for the project have also found a supportive community in which to enjoy companionship and excursions outside of Andahuaylillas.
Currently, 37 women work for the Q’ewar Project and in times of high demand, they bring on ten more women. The next phase for the project hopes to create a ceramic workshop for men to provide a stable work environment, where men will be treated with respect, in order to give the village’s men an escape from alcoholism. The founders estimate that nearly 100 families have directly or indirectly benefited from the project.
I have absolutely fallen in love with these adorable dolls and the beautiful social work of this project.
This project creates beautiful, handcrafted Waldorf dolls by employing women to work in various workshops. Each stage of production is done using local, natural materials. All the workshops are working simultaneously to spin or dye cotton, stuff the dolls, knit clothing, make accessories and create hair and facial features. All of the dolls are dressed in clothing typical for the Peruvian highlands and some are given special outfits used primarily for festivals.
After watching a short documentary about the project, I was struck by how the project is about more than a salary. By working in the doll workshop, these women are able to work in a clean, relaxing environment, rather than working a difficult agriculture job that isn’t suited for a woman’s build. The project has also provided a nursery for the women’s children, so they no longer have to worry about caring for their children while working. A school has been established for the village’s poorest inhabitants that includes academic lessons, a warm meal, a hot shower, dental services and music lessons.
Now that these women are able to bring home a substantial salary, they are able to act as equals with their husbands. In a chauvinistic society, it is too often the case that left with no job opportunities, a woman must stay in an abusive relationship. Thanks to the Q’ewar Project, the women in that situation are able to provide for themselves and their children. The founders of the project seek to improve the over all quality of life for the woman working for them, this includes basic needs such as an in house bathroom. In order to make this a reality, at the end of their first year of work, each woman is given a S./500 bonus to be used for the sole purpose of building a bathroom with working toilet and shower. Woman who work for the project have also found a supportive community in which to enjoy companionship and excursions outside of Andahuaylillas.
Currently, 37 women work for the Q’ewar Project and in times of high demand, they bring on ten more women. The next phase for the project hopes to create a ceramic workshop for men to provide a stable work environment, where men will be treated with respect, in order to give the village’s men an escape from alcoholism. The founders estimate that nearly 100 families have directly or indirectly benefited from the project.
I have absolutely fallen in love with these adorable dolls and the beautiful social work of this project.
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