Journey to Kozelets (Nov. 23)

Today marks my 2nd month anniversary of being in this country, and somehow it feels like it was just yesterday I was waiting in line at the customs check out. Besides the mild conversations amongst us 3 stooges left behind, the only thing that kept running through my head was whether we’d all be reunited again.

There was one person in particular I really wanted to see because before he left, we had a great evening sharing about ourselves and he left me a pretty incredible book in my possession that was hard to keep closed. See, this was no ordinary book, this “homemade” book with spiral binding and the cutest title page probably made in Paint program, was a record of his memoirs from when he lived in Africa. It was full of love, lust, triumph, loss, and other emotions that made me reminisce some of my experiences. By the time I finished reading it, I felt like I knew him for ages. Just reading about someone’s vulnerable moments can make a person feel that much closer.

Three times he made it out to Chernigov, the town I live nearby. His first visit was such a mission to get there, being semi-kidnapped by the new friend he made on the bus. The other 2 times were unplanned and they turned out to be quite fun… I got a concert out of the last one. This time it was my turn to go visit him and I’m not going to lie, the thought of travelling on my own to a village an hour away was quite scary. (Adam on the phone while walkiing to the church)

The first attempt….
My mama had called the bus station during the week to ask the times and prices for the bus heading to Kozelets. “The bus will pick you up Sunday at 9:05am and it should be 14 hrevin”, she confirmed. I felt butterflies in my stomach the morning of, “am I seriously taking the bus by myself?” I thought. This whole time when I’ve travelled anywhere (Nizhen, Kiev, Chernigov) it was always in a group. Granted, after getting the hang of the Marshrutka to Chernigov, I’d head into town by myself. But that was only a 15 minute bus ride and I knew exactly where to get off.

So there we were (my mama waited with me), standing at the bus stop 2 minutes to 9am (just in case it arrived early). I was rehearsing in my head how I was going to tell the driver that I needed to be dropped off at the bus station in Kozelets (in Ukraine, sometimes you have to instruct the drivers where you’re going otherwise they’ll drop you off in the middle of nowhere, like Adam told me it happened to him). After chit chatting with my mama for about 10 minutes, I became anxious as to why the bus hadn’t arrived. “Don’t worry, buses usually run late” she said. It was now 9:40am and we saw about 7 buses drive by except the one to Kozelets. Sadly, I called him and Meredith (my old D.C. roommate who happens to be in his cluster) to let them know what had happened. A part of me was quite relieved though because I don’t think I was ready to travel on my own.

The Second attempt…
2 Sundays later (Nov. 21) I attempted to do the same. This time I knew NOT to look for a bus that said Kozelets on it, but Desna, and I had to flag it down to stop for me… seemed like so much work. So there we were (my mama waited with me again) with our eyes peeled for the bus. 9:15a.m. and we could see it coming. Great, in a matter of seconds I’d be sitting on that bus on my way to see Adam and Meredith. Just as it was approaching, the driver decided to speed up and pass up the slow car in front of him… driving right by my mama and I without even glancing our way. Not again!!!

Third time’s a charm…
That same day I acted quickly and told my mama that I was going to head into town to the bus station and buy the next ticket to Kozelets from there. There’s no chance in being left behind at the bus station, unless I was in the bathroom or something. So I did just that and bought the 10:40a.m. bus to Kozelets. I thought everything was smooth from there on, but there was still another task at hand…. Which bus was I supposed to get on? You would think “just look for a bus that says Kozelets”… unfortunately sometimes the buses don’t say the town/village because it makes many stops along the way. So there I was, 40 minutes early asking around which bus was going to Kozelets. Luckily the lady checking the tickets said in RUSSIAN (because even when I ask in Ukrainian, I get responses in Russian) that the next bus to arrive in lane 3 was the bus I needed to take.

Finally, after about an hour long bus ride, the driver granted my request of dropping me off at the bus station in Kozelets. It was a gloomy and sprinkling day but I was excited to be there. I felt victorious travelling by myself and not being shy about asking around where I needed to go. I rather sound silly with my thick accent and ask people for directions rather than winging it and ending up completely lost. A combination of being a gloomy day and Adam recovering from some stomach bug, it was a very chill day. I met his host mama and brother as we ate lunch together. They seem to be very happy with him, which doesn’t surprise me because he’s a great guy. Then after showing me pictures from his trip to Guatemala this past summer (which I enjoyed very much), we met up with Meredith whom I hadn’t seen since she left D.C. back in Sept. (Meredith and I in front of the Church)

After realizing I misread my departure time on my ticket (because apparently I don’t know how to tell military time) we headed back to the house from the cathedral, which by the way was beautiful and one of the largest I’ve seen so far. “You need to play your saxophone for me because that day in the park doesn’t count” I said to him on our walk back to his place.

As soon as we arrived to his house, he whipped out his saxophone and laptop with music he’d play along to. Meredith and I sipped our tea while he played for his mini audience, his host mama and brother included. It’s nice to see someone do what they love so much, and for him it’s to play his saxophone. “Can you dig it?” he says “Yeah I dig it” we say. He makes me love jazz even more, and a bit envious that I can’t play a saxophone. After dedicating the song “a girl from Ipanema” to the Latina in the house, we rushed to put our coats and shoes on to head over to the bus station. I made it in the nick of time, shoes/jeans wet and all from stepping in huge puddles. I gave both of them a big hug and hopped on the bus back to Chernigov/Kolychivka.

As I sat in my seat listening to my new favorite jazz artist Jamie Cullum (compliments of Adam), I thought to myself: If I let fear get the best of me, I’ll miss out on so many great things in life. For example travelling on my own; I didn’t want to do it, but if I hadn’t, I would’ve missed out on such a great day like this day.

Fall Festival in Ukraine (Nov. 11)

I know I didn’t do a good job at explaining exactly what it is I’d be doing during the 3 months of training, mainly because I didn’t know so myself. Now I can tell you what my weekday has been like for the past month and a half. The schedule has been consistent with 4 hours of language lesson, teaching and observing lessons at school, penciling in language tutoring/lesson planning/homework, and sometimes special visits from the office; all of which times vary and some days are longer than others. But on top of trying to master the language and succeed in teaching multiple classes, as a cluster we are to work on a community project.

Just like how each community is different in its population and amenities, the same goes for its needs. Therefore, each cluster is to observe and ask questions to community members about the necessities in the area and plan out a project that will help them obtain (or facilitate) that necessity. We thought it logical to ask the teachers in the school we work at if there was anything they were lacking as far as textbooks, chalkboards, and other materials. Of course, the school is lacking English/Ukrainian dictionaries for the “English department” (there is no English department but I’ll just call it that) and 10th grade textbooks.

With weeks to brainstorm a way to raise money for the dictionaries and reading materials, we thought it would be nice to bring a little bit of America to Ukraine. Halloween just passed and Thanksgiving is just weeks away, so we came up with “Fall Festival” in which we introduced the children to both holidays.

I had my doubts at first because I didn’t think anyone would want to pay to come attend our “lame” festival. I know, I shouldn’t have been thinking pessimistic about it but when I think of a festival, I think of multiple game stations, food, sumo costumes (my favorite), and much more. Here, not only were we limited with supplies but also with people to work each station. To add to my worries, only 1 out of the 4 stores we wrote letters to asking to donate candy were nice enough to contribute to the festival.

Game Day
The Fall Festival was such a success. Even with 15 minutes left to finish setting up last minute touches to the auditorium, children were starting to come in. We had Katarina kindly ask them to step outside for the remaining time, and they waited anxiously. As soon as the doors opened, there was no line formed because they all barged in at once. “один Гревен”, Andy charged one by one. We instructed them to take a seat as soon as they entered and we waited until the last person arrived.

Standing from the stage, I took pictures of our audience. Andrew presented a brief summary of our American fall holidays, followed by each of us reading a sentence in Ukrainian to translate. They all clapped and quickly made their way to our stations to start the fun.

The business accounting man Andy worked the door and also sold raffle tickets that he made himself. Tammela worked the “I’m thankful for” booth where she explained how on Thanksgiving we say at least one thing we are thankful for. Students made turkeys out of their hands and wrote what they were thankful for (in English). Andrew worked the Trick or Treat booth, pretty much handing out candy to kids. Kate was in charge of musical chairs, which was the busiest station throughout the event. And I worked the Arts & Crafts booth where kids would trace ghosts and pumpkins and color them in however they wanted. I underestimated the amount of paper I had to cut, so within 20 minutes of our festival, I found myself cutting more paper. It was nice interacting with my 7th and 8th grade students outside of class. The only weird thing was this time they were allowed to speak Ukrainian and I was the one who was struggling to speak (funny how they roles change).

There must have been between 40-50 people in that room, some playing games and others posing for pictures with the best dressed student. At one point, I had one of the 6th graders dressed as a zombie ask me if she could take a picture with me. It was sweet considering the fact I wasn’t even dressed up yet she wanted to take a picture with me. Boy do we love the 6th grade and it’s misfortunate that we aren’t allowed to teach them because the school says they’re preparing for their national exams.

I must say that besides this event turning out to be better than expected, one of my highlights was having my host sister-in-law and nephew come support. My 3 year old nephew is too young to attend school, yet he’s a very social Russian speaking kid. He’s over at my house almost every day of the week as if he doesn’t live in Chernihiv (that’s where he and his parents live). Marina, my sister-in-law, is my only true Ukrainian friend whom I hang out with at home. She’s only 4 years older than me so she understands me a bit better than mama Valentina (as far as interests go). So for them to come out and meet my cluster mates, LCF and TCF, it meant a lot. The feeling would be even greater if my real family were here to see me emerged in this culture/community… but that day isn’t too far ahead.

Appreciating the Unappreciated (Nov. 4)

If someone were to have asked me 2 years ago where I’d be in this exact moment, it would not have crossed my mind to answer “teaching in Ukraine”. Yet here I am a month and a half later, in a country I most likely would not have been able to locate on a map. Do I enjoy it so far? Yes… Do I know how to teach? I’m learning. If I had a chance to go back and chose differently, would I? No.

“Good morning teacher, how are you?... I am fine thank you” the ripple effect sound of my 7th grade students greeting Andy and I at the beginning of our lesson. Surprisingly, I don’t go by Ms. Romero or Ms. Reyes, but rather Ms. Janira. It is tradition to call teachers by their first name and patronymic name (father’s name as one’s own). So since my father’s name is Angel, my patronymic name is Angelivna… it’s kind of sexist but it sounds cool. As a cluster, we decided not to use our patronymic name because some just sound silly. I may end up using mine once I get to my site, but for now I’m just Ms. Janira

After the 2nd week of teaching my awesome 7th grade class, I was told I’d be team teaching with Tammela in the 8th grade. Now, I don’t understand how there is such a big difference between the two grades when they are only one year apart, but it’s very noticeable. There’s a difference in class participation, behavior, and attendance. (There also seems to be violent flirting in 8th grade, which I understand the whole pulling her hair or poking his side… but this goes beyond that.) Just like in any situation, I accept the challenge and give it my best.

First time with the 8th grade
About ten minutes into class, the girl in the front is making paper airplanes, the boy in the middle is pestering another girls’ backpack, some boys in the back are chatting with each other in Ukrainian, all the while the girl I picked on to read is softly reading the paragraph from the book. It seems chaotic for a classroom of 12 students, but it’s actually not that bad… yet. At one point during the lesson, a girl straight up smacked the boy on his back for being the first to get to the card in the word game we taught them to play. It was loud and all the students laughed at what had just happened. I couldn’t believe how our innocent game of “word catch” turned into battle of the sexes. After the lesson I started thinking “Is this how it was like when I was in 8th grade?”

I remember when I was a student in middle school I didn’t care much for studying. At that age, all I wanted to do was hang out with my friends and talk about meaningless things. I may not have appreciated everything I had to do when being a middle school-er (and partially high school), but boy am I glad to have had teachers who cared about us. They were so tolerant and strict, always picking on the troubled kids to answer the difficult questions. They graded “unfairly”, or so I thought, yet were always motivating when they saw students trying.

Now that I can clearly see and acknowledge these traits, I hope to develop these same qualities as a teacher for my students. I hope that one day they may look back and appreciate the time and effort that I (and all their teachers) put into educating them for a better future. I know it sounds so cliché, but it’s the truth. None of us would be where we’re at now if it weren’t for those who taught us what we know. Although we may not appreciate it at the moment, there is always that one day where we’ll look back at certain events in our life and we’ll appreciate it… no matter how difficult it was.

Dreaming of Nizhen

Picture yourself strolling the quiet streets of a suburban town, it’s tranquil and all you hear is the wind breezing through your hair. The main road you’re on is surrounded by trees with leaves draping nearly to the ground and it leads you to a huge white columned building. Eleven steps up the stair case continues to lead you into the building, where once you enter and glance over to the right, there is a concrete image of the Ukrainian flag embedded in the wall (HUGE by the way). This place is known as no other than the Nikolai Gogol University in Nizhen, a town an hour and 45 minutes away from Chernigov.


But I’m getting ahead of myself in telling you about his glorious day, so let me start from the very beginning. Today, October 30th (my sister’s birthday) was our first time on the Elektrichka (train). The experience was good and bad because once we got on, there was absolutely no place for us to sit… or stand for that matter. Packed like sardines for the first 20 minutes of the ride was the most intimate I had ever been with my cluster mates. The concept of personal space went out the window the minute I stepped foot off the plane to this country and standing not even an inch away from Kate was proof of this. Through the pushing and shoving of passengers needing to get off on the next exit, I nearly sat on the lap of some strange old man. “What is this butt doing in my face?” I kept imagining him saying to himself. Oh well… I wasn’t alone with this same problem, so the only thing Kate and I can do was just laugh about it.


Finally we arrived to Nizhen and quickly headed over to the “House of Children and Youth”. At first, I was confused if this place was a school or one of those city sponsored programs hosted in a government building… but it is what its name says. Parents bring their children here during the week (and/or Saturdays) for extra-curricular activities or educational reinforcements… since apparently children can’t get enough of school. This place is great though and really gives children/teenagers the opportunity to develop academically and creatively. It offers art/painting, singing, dancing, acting, language learning, and a few others. The lady giving us a tour of the place let us sit in on one of the English classes with the kindergarteners… it was the most adorable thing ever. Ten little Ukrainian children sat in red miniature chairs in front of us. “Hello” they all said, and continued on with their lesson. I would love to teach this age group, but in order to do so, my Ukrainian (and perhaps Russian) would have to be close to perfect. It was great seeing how one would teach such young children, and they were well behaved too (then again, there were like 13 of us in the room). Shortly after the class observation, we headed outside where 4 guys dressed in traditional Cossack clothing performed a reenactment sword fight.

For almost two weeks now, our Technical trainer Katarina had been wanting to bring us here, her home town of Nizhen. “I was not born here, but moved here with my parents when I was 6 years old”, she said when I asked if this was where she’s lived her entire life. The trip was originally supposed to take place last Sunday, but she had a family emergency to tend to. Although dealing with a family emergency is never a positive thing, postponing the trip for this past Saturday turned out to be one of best things for various reasons.



Reason #1
See… when the last group left from D.C., leaving me behind, one of my favorite people left along in that group and I’d been wanting to see her (Kate Tremont). I briefly saw her at the café in Chernigov where all the volunteers go to on the weekend to use the internet. Unfortunately when I was coming in, she was leaving to catch her bus for a 2 hour bus ride back to her village. It sucks that not everyone lives near the city like me; it makes it that much harder to hang out with them. She did manage to tell me that her cluster was planning on going to Nizhen the following Saturday so maybe we could work something out. Well it worked out and her cluster tagged along with whatever activities we had going on for the day (except touring the university).
Reason #2
I finally met him… him being the only other Spanish speaker in Peace Corps Ukraine. Simon is his name and he’s in Kate’s cluster group. I’m thinking she told him about me the night I called her and she was over at his place working on lesson plans. Turns out that this guy from Ohio lived in Argentina for 5 months and picked up Spanish pretty quickly. I think it’s an awesome connection that out of all places, he lived in Argentina… Guatemala would’ve been better, but I’ll take what I can get. Needless to say, I have a new buddy, one I can speak Spanish to so I won’t lose the language (since I’m already struggling with it).

Reason #3
The weather was great. Right now is the time when the days are supposed to get shorter and colder. Winter, the heavy snow kind of winter, starts in a few weeks so we should be seeing less of the sun any time soon. So it was great having such a sunny and warm day, even if it was just for a little bit. It made the scenery that much prettier, making it great for pictures.

So there we were, a good 14 of us Americans walking around Nizhen like we knew the place. Seeing the reaction of the locals as we walked by talking oh so loudly… I can only imagine what they were thinking. Americans are pretty loud now that I witness it everywhere we go. But the minute we stepped foot in the cathedral, our voices went to mute mood. The inside of this place was quite beautiful yet spooky. I’m not used to being surrounded by icons and idols, but I must admit the art of it was quite nice and the golden stands glimmering from the fire of the candles gave the place a nice ambiance. Our arrival seemed to be timed perfectly because within minutes of us gazing at our surroundings, a trio began to sing in angelical voices. It echoed throughout the church, making it sound even sweeter in our ears. All I could do was just close my eyes and take it all in. I’ve only heard such singing in movies when the scene takes place in a church and the bad guy confuses his sins. But being there and hearing it in person was a whole lot better than any surround sound movie theatre.

Oh Nizhen… how I enjoyed touring you and making new friends. If I ever feel like getting away from the busy lifestyle of the city, or want to reenact my version of a romantic movie scene, I shall go back to you, for this day was like a dream and it almost had all the right people in it.