Village Life

Tuesday 11^th October

I don’t want to sound overly negative here but I do want to give you a realistic picture of what it is like here as well.  Have I said how cold it has been here?  We have been really cold as there is no heating in the house at all.  The other night I went to bed in a long dress, a striped t-shirt over the top, a pair of woolly socks and my scarf.  It was not a good look.  If it is like this now then what will it be like in January?  The other thing is that it is very boring.  The TV is non-existent as it is badly dubbed or in Georgian, there is no comfortable place to sit to watch it  -  I need say no more.  I am fed up with the computer as all I do is look for resources that I can’t print or use.  There is nothing in the village and I mean nothing unless you count a little shed with a few groceries in.  The roads are unmade, rocky and covered in cow shit.  There is no street lighting of any kind.  Going for a walk is a pointless as it is difficult and too aimless. Without good Georgian it is impossible to have any meaningful dialogue with people. 

So for our sanity (I should say my sanity really) I plot our escape from the village each weekend.  I have the marshutka times for getting out of the village to Kareli but don’t yet know the times of the marshutkas out of Kareli.  So on Saturday it was a little hit or miss if we were going to make it out of Kareli at all to Tbilisi the CAPITAL!! But fortunately one turned up and we jumped on and arrived in the big smoke for the Tbilisoba an autumnal festival.

We have it sussed now as we line up our little boutique hostel (we have now been given a discount for being TLG teachers and turning up so often) so for a private room we only pay 10 lari each which is £4 each a night.  Not bad eh!  Includes free coffee, tea and wine!  You can see from the picture that it is not the most salubrious place, however!

It was so great to be in the city.  It was warm and happy.  There were lots of people wandering around and just enjoying themselves.  We nearly came to blows when Martin got lost and tried to blame me but we managed to be a bit mature about it (he agreed with me) and cheered up.  There was a great classic car exhibition on one of the bridges.

We sat outside a restaurant for much of the day drinking beer and listening to a concert (we couldn’t see just heard) soaking up the sun.  I had a proper – wait for it- croque madame; it was so yummy and I savoured every bit. Martin had chicken with mash and roasted garlic – it was pretty good French grub.  We thought we had better move on, at least to another bar and went to a Moroccan place that had one of those hubbly bubbly things.  It was 30 lari a go so we thought better of it and stuck to Georgian brandy and played backgammon instead.  Eventually we made our way back to the original bar, in our original seats and had kebabs of delicious pork cubes and chicken cubes and oh yes beer.  What do you think of Martin’s technique of dispensing with beggars?  Stare at your wife until they go away.  It was such a lovely day. 

We had been given details of where we could go to an English mass in Tbilisi on the Sunday which was a 10 minute walk from our hostel.  I thought we would be out in half an hour but to my delight there was a full sung mass with ex-pats in the choir.  The priest is the first secretary at the Vatican embassy and the homily was simple and to the point.  The church itself was very beautiful and I felt like I had come home.  The choir is looking for new members (what’s new?) and so I said we would love to sing every fortnight.  So we are back there in 2 weeks!  We booked tickets for “The battle of Stalingrad” at the puppet theatre for then so it will be a weekend to look forward to.  Next weekend is a long weekend and so we are planning to go to Borjomi and  Vardzia.  On Sunday there is a school excursion to Kaheti and me and Martin will go to that too.

It's not easy

Tuesday 11^th October

I’ve been ill since the president’s bash.  Many of us are putting our bad throats and colds down to being made to sit outside in the fresh air for too long but for every year I have been in teaching, other than last year, 3 weeks into the school term I have lost my voice and had a bad cold.  All those germy kids.

Two funny little things.  On Thursday, I nipped out of my year 1 class to get a drink of water from the staffroom.  “Sit down” I was forced to sit down and eat aubergine cooked in garlic and parsley and cheese bread (Khachapuri) and home-made wine.  They all chat and say “tchame tchame” and I give in and eat and drink.  Then they send me home when they find out that Martin is in bed as I should be at home to look after him.

The next day Juliet says that I have to go into her year 7 class as they are asking for me and they want to make a supra (feast) for me.  So I go in and they have bought some cola, biscuits and sweets and we sit round a couple of tables and sing songs in English and Georgian.  Juliet went and got some more wine and we drank that while the kids stuck with cola.  We had an attempt at Wink Murder but no-one understood that the person I whispered “yes” to was the murderer and so no-one did any winking.

However later that day I was absolutely furious.  I said before, that unusually for schools,  in my school the lower classes come in at 2 until 5:30 which means that I have limited opportunity to run any after school English classes for the upper school and that particularly the lazy boys in these classes are the ones I have  a heart for and want to give them an opportunity to catch up so that they can participate in lessons.  Our contract states that we are to work with grades 1 to 6 and if we want to we can work with other classes.  I was hoping that I could skip a couple of the lower grade classes so that I could run after school classes and also teach the teachers.  I thought that I had agreed with Juliet to do this but either way she was insisting that I went to her class and if the students do turn up to my after school class someone would fetch me.  I wasn’t happy about this at all but felt I had no choice and went into the lesson.  She just turned this over to me without any planning or discussion and said she wanted me to teach the lesson according to the book.  The task in the book was to colour in tins of paint according to what was written on it.  This is not a lesson ok, This is an activity.  Somehow she was hoping that I would turn it into some exciting lesson.  Well she could stuff off – I am not a performing monkey.

 I had been singing all day in the other classes (One finger and thumb keep moving – thanks Janice) and my voice had almost given up (I lost it completely the next day) and I knew that she wouldn’t have called me in if it was HER students that were due in for after school club.  Plus she had actually  SENT ME HOME the previous day so I missed the lesson with this class because MARTIN was ill in bed and I should look after him. 

She could see I wasn’t my usual co-operative self and so asked me if I had “The toy” and then gave it to a good student who threw it around asking each person “What is your name?”   The thing is, she missed the point of the whole alien ball throwing thing.  She thinks it’s just about making the children laugh which is does do (it has a bright light in it as well)  It is an important tool for questioning as students have to be alert and waiting as they don’t know who is going to be next, the teacher adjusts the question according to the ability of the student, and you can throw it back to the same student 2 or 3 times to get a deeper response to a question or to check out other pronunciation etc.

It just highlights the reality of my situation here.  It’s me who isn’t getting it. It is me who has to adapt.  So I went home, redid my timetable so that I am in all the lessons from 1 to 6 and tried to think of another way to work with the older students without overworking myself.

The president and the Vatican embassy

Thursday 6^th October 2011

Last night we went to the opening of the Teacher’s House in Tbilisi which is a new training school for you guessed it, teachers.  As is often the case in Georgia, it was a last minute jobbie and we only found out on Tuesday that we were going the next day.  The president himself was going to be there in person and we were expecting a bit of a bash.  We were picked up at 4 o’clock and arrived in Tbilisi at around 7.  We had to show our passports and checked over with a bleeping thing and shown to our seats.  Unfortunately our seats were in the car park and not inside the building as we imagined.  Even worse, there was no food.  It’s the least you expect!  Along with the other teachers, we had last eaten at 8 in the morning and then rushed out straight after school expecting a slap up meal given that the president was gonna be there.  They wouldn’t let anyone out again as we had been security checked and so we waited.  Then waited a bit more.  Then they announced that the president would be arriving in 45 minutes and then they announced that wine was being served.   

We could see through the glass walls of the new building that the press and TV cameras were running from room to room so we guessed that something was afoot and then three glasses later, we were back in our seats and a bloke was at the mike saying something in Georgian.  It dawned on me that this was actually the president.  Talk about low-key!  I was expecting a helicopter landing or something, but even a “Good Evening ladies and gentlemen – I give you your president”  But nothing.  We are much more formal in the Catholic Women’s League. 

Talking of which, while mingling with the masses there was a chap with a dog collar and the view was that he was a catholic priest. This rumour turned out to be true and in fact he was the first secretary in the Vatican Embassy (Apostolic Nunciature) which represents Georgia, Armenia and Azerbaijan.  Father Filippo Ciampanelli was a nice man, gave me his card and said to email him and he would let me know where mass was being held.  He explained that mass was being celebrated in houses over the country and that there should be somewhere local to me which is great.  I have been in dozens of churches since I arrived but have not been into a Catholic one and am missing it more than I realised.  He told me that the Georgian church has become very fundamental since Georgia became independent and this explains why I was refused entry into my village church.

The president is a very charismatic man.  I didn’t need to speak Georgian to understand his comfortable, confident manner and he delivered his speech with devastating charm.  Sigh. I gather his speech included all the usual stuff.  Education is the future; we must train teachers, new methods, new technology, 5 million somethings, all good stuff.  It had that Blair feeling.  You know, when Labour got in after a long dry spell, on the Blair New labour ticket, that hopeful soaring feeling that almost brings a tear to the eye.  Well it was kind of like that.  The Minister of Education is the guy that 5 years ago sacked all the police who were corrupt and turned the police force into a respected entity which by all accounts is saying something.  So the changes in the education system are likely to be savage.

Someone cruelly said that the president in his speech said he wanted little boys, but I think he was being misquoted.  I am sure he said that he wanted little boys to be educated and have a job so that they don’t turn to a life of crime.  He’ll be talking about my lazy boys that know nothing.

A is for Vashli

Thursday 6^th October 2011

According to the calendar it is only 3 whole weeks that I have been teaching and one of those was spent coaching year 11s for the American Exchange program.  I find it hard to believe it is so little time, in fact I checked the calendar again to make sure, as it seems at least 3 months.  What is it about time perception?!  In a previous post I said that I had been given a timetable that changed as soon as I had been given it and that the teachers wanted me to be in all of their classes.  The teachers also wanted to learn English.  But I also have my own agenda.  My school is a small school with only 8 class rooms.  This means that the older students come to school from 9 until 2 and the younger students come to school from 2 until 5:30.  This means that if you are teaching a wide range of ages, your day can be 9 to 5:30.  In Martin’s school there are enough classes, so regardless, his day is 9 to 2 as all students can be accommodated during this time.  So for me, it was a bit tricksy sorting out a timetable where I wasn’t teaching 9 lessons a day 5 days a week.

I spent the first week mainly with Juliet.  She teaches years, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 and 11.  She wants me to work in classes 3 to 6 but also 11 because they have an exam in June.  Juliet’s classes are typically small, between 8 and 15 students.  I found out that the birth rate was much lower during the war years of 2005 to 2008 which accounts for the small numbers apparently.  They are well behaved but there are “Many lazy boys who know nothing.”  She should try teaching in England.  The teaching approach is depressing.  I am trying not to be overly critical, this is a method by which they were taught themselves and one that was advocated  by  the Russian system but it is frustrating to say the least.

This is what happens in a typical Juliet class. 

“Good morning Teacher”

Points to a good student “Stand up, what is your name?”

Student stand “My name is Giorgi”

Teacher says “How old are you?”

Student says “I am 15 years old”

Teacher says “And do you have a brother?”

Student says “Yes”

Teacher says “Sit down, and now over to you Jennifer”  No prep just follow the book.

This is what happens with a good student.  The students who do not get an answer right or are too slow get shouted out and told to sit down.  These are usually the “lazy boys” who know nothing.  The lesson strictly follows the book.  The pupil’s book that is – a series of tedious exercises without the benefit of the teacher’s book.   This is ignored; so any possibility of straying outside the book or extending the book doesn’t get a look in.  In the lesson, only 3 or 4 students participate.  The same students (the good ones) are the ones who are told to stand and read aloud, or answer a question; the other students are ignored.  The teacher has no clue as to whether they understand anything or in fact cares.  It would seem that the attitude is that we must follow the book and it is the student’s fault if they are not able to understand the book.  Strangely the students take this in good heart, they don’t riot or slap each other or run around the classroom as they do in England (well my classes anyhow) they are fairly compliant.  They get shouted at a lot though.  This depressingly is how it is in all classes.  In the smaller classes it is easy to keep a firm grip on the students but they just appear more compliant, they don’t actually understand and as the teacher only asks the good students any questions they are fairly safe to sit back and do nothing.  The finger of blame points clearly at the students not at the teacher.

Keti teaches the youngest 2 classes and the more challenging larger classes of 7, 8, 9, 10 and 12.  She lacks confidence and her English is not that great and is not respected like the older and more authoritative Juliet.  I went into her classes to see what they were like.  Her year 9s were revolting.  The problem is clear to see however (always is when it isn’t your class haha) There are 23 in the class with only 3 students who are at the level of the text book, with another 8 who would be reasonably compliant and there are 12 lazy boys who know nothing who do run around a bit and give each other a slap now and again.  They sit on infant sized chairs many of which don’t have a back to them on a range of tables of varying heights.  They are ignored and are completely unable to access any of the work.  Where is the work at their level?  Where is the work that is relevant?  What are the lesson objectives and learning outcomes?  It is always the same, just follow the exercises in the book.  These boys can’t even read the English Alphabet, can’t pronounce anything – clearly not used to hearing or being asked to speak English.

Of course I should say here that there is more Georgian spoken than English in the English lesson.  The teacher asks the question in Georgian and then says it in English. The children answer in Georgian and then she says in Georgian “In English” and then the student says “Yes”.  There is no teaching at all going on.  I am not exaggerating at all here.  If there is a word in the book that is new it is translated.  Given that many of the students do not have a book in the first place and when I suggested that we moved students without books next to a student who did have a book so that they could take part in the lesson the teacher was surprised that this was a possibility.  Often, I do not have any idea what is going on in a lesson because it is mostly in Georgian.  There is chalk and a blackboard but students do not have an exercise book for English.  They just jot things down informally which means there is nothing for them to refer back to.  Translation and memorisation are key here.  Writing is limited to fill in the gap exercises.  Teachers make some mistakes but the complexity level of the language they use is quite low and so mistakes are few.

Do I sound frustrated?  Well yes I am.  Peeling grey walls are not the learning environment children need but the lack of paper and pens I can do something about.  We brought resources from England and have bought a colour printer and coloured paper in Georgia, so we will be able to make some resources to use in the classrooms; but it is the attitude of the teachers which is actually the most frustrating.  They do not see the problem with the current system as their mind-set is that the children have to fit the system and there is no need to adapt the system in any way to fit the needs of the students.  The government have issued all schools with new text books for English for students in grades 1 to 6.  The pupils have to buy their own books but the poor children and the teacher’s book are issued by the Government.  The situation is that the government issued books have not turned up yet.  The teachers don’t know how to teach the material in the book because they do not have the teacher’s book.  OK there is no CD to learn the tunes to the songs but there is no power in the classrooms or even a cd player so it doesn’t matter anyhow.  They don’t follow the teacher’s books anyway!  Many of the younger classes are “colouring lessons”.

Most of the volunteers who come here are not experienced teachers.  Many have an education degree of some kind and are looking for work experience abroad before continuing with a career in education but most volunteer teachers are graduates from a variety of disciplines and may or may not have a TEFL certificate.  Maybe they are less frustrated and are happy to play games and sing a few songs and that is fine.  We are there to teach the children, to model good teaching practice and to act as ambassadors for the English speaking countries.  “We plant trees that we will never sit under” is a lovely quote which I think will sum up our role in Georgia.  Not known for my patience, this is going to be a struggle for me as I want to dive in and do all I can.  Change is never easy for anyone and I think it will be a case of slowly, slowly with the teachers in my school.  They just don’t get it yet.

So anyway, I worked late into the night and produced a fantastic set of 3 lessons for the troublesome year 9s and with the lazy boys in mind chose “Formula 1” as the topic.  Divided into groups (yes we actually moved tables) I set up a range of differentiated tasks where the students were reading and speaking English most of the time.  The teacher was to move around the other groups monitoring their progress.  I worked with the challenging students using images to stimulate discussion and managed to explain the reason why Lewis Hamilton was in trouble in this formula 1 in English (something to do with DERS). The teacher predicted that they wouldn’t speak and they wouldn’t write but I had them writing sentences and answering questions and in the plenary they were the ones who I asked and they came up trumps for me.  Yes!!! Given that the previous lesson, the teacher had run out in tears and there was a near riot I thought it was a great success.  “Yes it was very good, so much better” she said in the staffroom as we debriefed “But we must go back to book for next lesson.” My little heart sank. “But only 3 of the students can keep up with the book”.  I said “Yes” she replied.

And so life goes on

Thursday 22nd September 2011

It has been a bit of a whirlwind since my last post.  On Saturday we went to Gori for a big boy and girl outing all on our own.  But no, we were given a lift there.  It’s not that I am ungrateful, but for a 51 year old woman, accompanied by her 48 year old husband, I miss the independence of jumping into the car and going off to do stuff and mooch around the shops.  I was trying to find a post-office so that I could weigh and send 2 letters to England.  (To two mates who have become grannies this month) but it was IMPOSSIBLE.  In the end I gave them to Beso’s sister who was flying back to France that night so that she could post them from there for me.  It was just simpler that way.  I know you may find this hard to believe but I do not have an address. Mail is not delivered to the village.  The people in the village have no need for post or letters allegedly.  I have not been able to fathom out what they do yet.  Watch this space. I can get things sent to the post office which is in Gori, a half hour drive away, but no-one knows how to do this.  Alternatively, Beso’s sister suggested that I get Maia’s mum’s address in Tblisi and then ask people to send it to her and she will bring it over.  In Tbilisi they have addresses and mail deliveries but on the downside it is a 2 hour drive away and so it is a bit on the inconvenient side for Maia’s mum.  

We had a nice time in Gori.  We met up with 3 blokes from our group and ate food and drank beer. 

Then we climbed up to the top of the fortress and then back down again. Me and Martin had a wander around the market and purchased some coat-hangers.  We had only 2 each and they were straining under the weight of all our clothes so we bought some more.  We were thrilled.  Plus a little bin for our room, nail varnish, deodorant and some tea bags.  I don’t go shopping, as there are no shops near us and I don’t need to.  (What’s that got to do with it?)  So it was nice to wander around spending crazily.  (I also bought some felt tips in case I can make some resources) We managed to find a marshutka to Kareli and arrived at the stop on the outskirts of town on the main road without event.  We were about to ring Beso to come find us when a man said “Kvemo Khvedureti?”, which after a few tries we worked out we were going to the same place.  We jumped in a cab and ended up outside our door and the guy refused to accept any money from us.  How nice.

Sunday I received an email about an American Exchange program open to students in years 9, 10 and 11 which enabled winners to live with a family in America and go to school for one year.  I am very excited about this of course for my students but the problem is that the first round of testing in Gori is to be held on Wednesday, in 3 days time and this leaves very little time to prepare them.  On Monday I spoke to the school director and the English teachers and we ask the year 11s if they want to try for a place.  Eight said yes and on Tuesday I put them through their paces all day.  Grammar and more grammar and a bit of comprehension thrown in; plus some listening tasks. I had worked late into the night to prepare online tests with games to break the day up and Martin researched and found me loads of resources.  I had arranged to use the computer room all day and had set up Hotmail accounts and sent documents to them so that they could link to sites with games (well Martin did!)  But unfortunately, there was no internet that day, and so I printed off a little, taught on the blackboard the rest and used my laptop for breaks where they did the tests.  It was a great day, the kids worked really hard, didn’t complain, and were really excited about it all.

The next day we all went to Gori  school number 3 in a mini-bus that won the prize for the most cracked windscreen that was still in one piece.  I was like a mother hen, ushering my chicks into the testing rooms and waiting anxiously to see how they got on.

 

After everyone had finished we went to a restaurant for kingalle, Khachapuri and beer.  Everyone was in high spirits and we had a good time. 

The results were published on the internet that evening.  Overall there were 400 candidates and the number that got through to round two was 148.  One of my students made it through!  She screamed down the phone at me when I told her.

The school was thrilled for her success as this was a real feather in their cap for the school.  They were particularly happy that Kareli, who had entered 14 students did not have anyone go through.  Rivalry is alive and kicking in Kvemo Khvedureti!.  Everyone congratulated her and me and there was a real buzz.   I worked with her all day again trying my best to prepare her for 4 hours of testing tomorrow.  Let’s hope and pray she makes it through.  We will find out in one month whether or not she has got through.

First Day of Teaching

Friday 15^th September 2011

I thought I was big enough to go to school by myself like Martin, but no I was accompanied by Khatia my host daughter and had to call for her friends along the way and be part of the calling out to boys groups as well.  Oh those were the days, teasing boys on the way to school haha.  It was just as embarrassing then as it was now.  Not sure if it was something to do with the fact that I got lost coming back from school yesterday or what but I might have to start coming into school very early.

I had it easy yesterday, a welcome presentation, shaking 168 sweaty little hands and a bunch of roses.  Today was a different story. The timetable has been completed! Teachers are given a torn off bit of paper with their timetable on and by the time I arrive, Juliette has drawn me out my very own version with the lessons I will be working with her.  The government have stated that volunteers are only meant to be working with grades 1 to 6 as these are the grades that teacher’s books and student books have been newly purchased for.  The books however have not arrived yet. I am happy to work with older students and Juliet very much wants me to work with her older students and so for “today I will introduce you to the older classes”.  There are 12 lessons I am officially allowed into with Juliette and when Katie arrives I see that there are another 4 classes that I am officially allowed into.  Like Juliette, Katie is also anxious that I teach her older classes as well, particularly as there are new online exams (less cheating) in English that the year 11s have to take at the end of June next year.

I have a full teaching timetable today – 6 lessons of 45 minutes each with a 5 minute break in between.  Here the children stay in the classroom and the teachers move around and I am led around and stared at and smile inanely and do as I am told.  We are meant to be planning lessons together and be co-teachers  where one may lead and the other support then vice versa.  However this is what happened.  We go into the classroom and engaged in enthusiastic “hellos and good mornings”.  Juliette says “Blah Blah Blah McMillan, I am telling them about the books.  Blah Blah Blah Jennifer Beels” and she turns to me and smiles. “It is your turn”  By this she means ‘Now teach the lesson’  So I do.  We do “My name is Jennifer, what’s your name?’ and question and answer sessions.  I ask how many brothers and sisters they have and they ask me how old I am.  Fair dos. In another class I teach them all the moves to do ‘Simple Simon’.  I the last lesson she does the same routine and then adds “This is their first ever English lesson – make it fun”  With this heavy responsibility I bring out my piece de resistance – fluorescent alien ball with tongue poking out and bright light ball inside. They laughed anyway.  Questioning Georgian style means being shouted at to stand up, give the right answer and if you get it wrong shouted at again.  Only the ones who are going to get it right are given enough time to answer a question and most of the class are left to sit there not participating at all. Now they had to catch a bright glowing creature and throw it back to me with the answer.  Everyone wanted to be asked a question and they also got a chance to throw something at a teacher.  Win-win situation really.  Anyway fun was had and touchingly, one of the little cuties (they are truly edible) came into the staffroom at the end of school just to tell someone, anyone, how much he loved English and he’d thought he would hate it.  Does this happen in the real world?  I mean in English schools.  It is so gratifying. 

I was shattered by the end of the day.  The timetable turns out to only be temporary as they didn’t include art and music.  So who knows what or even when I will be doing it.  When will the teacher’s books arrive?  As ever in Georgia you never know what is round the corner.

That night, coincidently,  both Martin and I had ‘End of the world’ dreams.  As you know, I love my dreams and interpretation thereof but I will spare you this time.  But just to say that Martin’s was about an insect that looked pretty innocuous but could eat its way through anything, rapidly destroying all in its path.  Mine was like a disaster movie ‘Independence Day’  it starred Jeff Bloomberg as the man who had survived an earth attack where all the statues came alive and then 17 years later was still living off the story; but this character had a deep underlying sorrow.  Oops I haven’t spared you after all.  Because despite my glib remarks and humorous little stories, the reality is that the school is hanging on by a thread financially.  It is in terrible physical shape, there is no money for anything, kids write very little down, so there is nothing to refer back to, so are limited to what they can memorise, no facilities; the gym is still waiting for windows – the rest of school has new windows but no heating.  The walls are painted grey and are badly peeling.  It is the same for Martin’s school and this is a familiar story across the country according to our teaching colleagues. The kids don’t complain at all and are really co-operative and generally happy.  The teachers moan but just get on with it. Martin’s dream reflected the fragility of the education system and mine a deep sorrow for all involved as they are really struggling.  I just want to make it a bright, stimulating environment to learn in but I can’t.

First Day at School

Wednesday 14^th September 2011

It was the first day at school today, except that this is the day just for teachers, before the kids arrive to spoil it. I managed to walk by myself to the school and didn’t get lost.  This is actually the first time I have been out on my own so quite an achievement as to me at the moment all the streets look very similar.  The school door was open and I walked through the doors looking for signs of life and then heard lots of talking from one of the rooms so opened the door to what was the staff room.  It was a pleasant room, painted pale green with pretty net curtains over the 2 large windows and a number of women sitting at the desks positioned around the room.  I recognised Juliette and Katie and they came over and sat me down with them.  Everyone was friendly and I was introduced to all of them along with their subject however I was aware that I was an object of curiosity and not for the first time that day wished I had worn something over my arms and was not showing glimpses of my red bra as I imagined that I was being branded as a slapper from London or however you say that in Georgian!

My two co-teachers showed me round the school which is quite small and on two floors.  We come across a couple of unsuspecting students and one boy is press-ganged into asking me where I am from.  “London, England” I say in my best accent.  Juliette translates for me “Londonidan”.  The boy is literally terrified.  The next lad clearly wishes he had stayed in bed when ordered to “stand up” and then say how old he is.  Juliette sensitively prods him by shouting “One, two, three!” and then gives up and says something in Georgian and he says “Eighteen”.  The result of 12 years of English education.  Each class has its own room and the students stay in the class while the teachers move around.  Lessons are 45 minutes each with a 5 minute break between so that the teachers can scamper and set up for the next class.  Classrooms are small about 20 feet square but there are only around 10 to 18 students in a class.  First lesson is at 9:00 but I had confused answers about the rest of the school day and it either ends at 12 or 2:30 and starts again for the younger children at 2:30 and finishes at 5 or 6.  I don’t know and will have to wait and see.  The timetable hasn’t been finished yet either so we don’t know what classes we teach yet but hopefully it will be done before the students arrive tomorrow as no-one will go to any classes.

The “books” haven’t arrived yet either.  The Georgian government are investing heavily in the learning of English and MacMillan has produced a set of materials that “all teachers must follow” and apparently includes teacher’s book, student workbooks, posters, flashcards and other resources.  Teachers have had training in the material already but still don’t have the actual material to prepare for the classes. But it’s ok as plan B is to introduce me to the class until the books arrive.  Also there are resources such as big sheets of paper to decorate the classroom which appear throughout the year but I am not sure about this one.  I would have thought that they would have left the best of last year’s work on the walls (that’s what we do in England anyhow) rather than have peeling grey paint on show.  We will see.  While we were in Batumi, we bought a pack of coloured paper and white paper to make displays and we brought with a laminator for 15 quid in Tesco’s; we saw one for £100 here.  I am already mentally making a list of stuff to bring back with me in January ha-ha.  No clothes just resources!

Then there was the official staff meeting.  Much the same as in England really and the language barrier wasn’t a problem at first as I zoned out (much the same as in England) “Blah, blah” punctuated by brief translations “Teachers can no longer work overtime”  “Blah blah” Then the director gets really heated and shouts for quite a long time and then one woman gets up runs out in tears.  She is one of the Georgian teachers and she has just been told her services are no longer required.  Not a very nice way to do it really; come back to start the school year only to be told in front of all the staff that you are too old at 77 and have to leave.  As I say much the same as in England.  More shouting by the director and being argued and shouted down very effectively by the 77 year old geography teacher who was a previous director at the school. It is very interesting what you can understand without understanding the actual words.  I don’t like the director who is the only man in the room.  Please refer back to a previous post where he turned up at the house, got pissed and slobbered all over the 16 year old daughter, kissing her and telling her she was beautiful.  I don’t think this was a case of different cultural norms either.  It’s the same old bloody story of fear of offending authority.  Anyhow, it put me off him and I don’t like him.  He then shouted a lot more and interestingly the body language of many of the women was with one arm supporting their head and looking blankly at him.  A whole row of teachers echoed each other’s body language which seemed to say “Resistance is useless”.  No-one went after the distressed Georgian teacher that I could see; but I could be wrong.  Teachers do not earn a lot of money here; about 350 GEL which is approximately £150 a month take home.  It is low paid in comparison with other professions and most teachers are women; many are also unqualified, maybe even without a degree.  The director also announced that teachers have to pass the teacher’s certificate by next year.  I can’t imagine that those over 65 will attempt this and this will cut the teaching profession considerably.  He also announced that 3 teachers will be going next year.  As I said, much the same as England really.

Armenia

Saturday 3^rd September 2011

We caught the Envoy Hostel Tour bus from Tbilisi to Yerevan stopping on the way to see several beauty spots in the north of Armenia.  We were travelling for 11 hours but we saw some lovely places.  I didn’t know a thing about the country before this trip.  We went because it was there but when I first saw the country it was stunning.  We seemed to be driving surrounded by mountains, with the towns and villages nestled within them.  At a later point there were also a lot of heavy industrial sites and abandoned factories from when the Russians moved out.  

We visited the Aktal Monastary. I have to tell you this story.  This is what’s left of the amazing fresco of the Virgin Mary and Jesus on the wall and ceiling in the centre of the nave.  There was an attack by the Mongols and they came to the church looking for the villagers who were concealed behind this wall.  They heard a chid cry and so they aimed the cannon from where they heard the noise and sent a cannon ball right through the face of Mary and the people were all killed.  But look at the outside of the church where the shot passed through the wall:  Straight through the centre of the cross!  This was such a peaceful place.  It was warm, quiet and so, so restful.  Surrounded by green mountains it was out of this world.

Meet the Yedzies: a nomadic tribe that sets up tents in the summer and breed sheep and then move to the villages during winter.  It is a pretty desolate way of living but they seem to have quite a lot of comfort.  They used to have a TV and computer which was run on a generator but the kids spent too much time on them and didn’t watch the sheep so they got rid of them.  This family have 300 sheep which is considered a small herd.  The family consist of mother, father and 2 boys aged 8 and 10.  The 2 daughters got married at 14 members of another Yedzie family.  However because of in-breeding there is a high occurrence of genetic illnesses such as Downs Syndrome.  The mother here is about 30 but it is a hard life on these hills.  She gets money from the tour people to allow us to come and glimpse their life but when the old fellah turned up he told her to get rid of us.  She wasn’t happy as she probably is grateful for all the drams she can get; but he wanted to eat his dinner and have a drink with some other bloke that turned up.  We saw her wander off while we were hanging around outside.  Guess she thought she would get out of the way.  The central heating system is a stove that is heated by sheep droppings.  No worries about feeding the dogs. Look closely and you can see it is a sheepskin!

Family and neighbours didn’t seem to understand why we wanted to go to Armenia.  I still don’t know why there is this anti-Armenia view but they were also insistent on knowing which country we preferred, Armenia or Georgia.   “You’re not just saying that?!” When I declared my allegiance to Georgia was one response.  I didn’t want to lie and at the same time didn’t want to appear to be a traitor of some kind.  Things get lost in translation as well.  Armenia was beautiful.  The mountains and churches and monasteries were lovely peaceful places and we also had a good time, with good company and lots of laughs.  However in the capital city of Yerevan where we spent a couple of days, there was a very heavy Russian presence.  Russian as opposed to English was displayed in shops and there was also a strong mafia presence.  Designer clothes were worn by most people walking around the town and men in Armani, flanked by body guards were evident also, especially around the Marriot hotel.  There was a lot of money being invested in the city but it was a bit soulless.  The centre could have been anywhere.

The difference between Georgian people and Armenians can be illustrated in this example.   When I was in Batumi in Georgia in a supermarket, trying to find hair conditioner (I couldn’t tell the difference between shampoo and conditioner) the staff were really helpful.  Other shoppers tried to help and they persisted in trying to answer my question until the problem was solved.  I did exactly the same thing in a supermarket in Yerevan.   The supermarket assistant simply shrugged her shoulders and walked off.  However, one redeeming thing about Armenia was the fact that they produce the best brandy I have ever tasted – Ararat – it is absolutely delicious.  I looked online to see if they sell it in the UK but sadly they don’t.  I am telling everyone I meet who may go to Armenia that they MUST buy me a bottle!

http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.265361680161179.68528.100000620461653&l=9c418b9aea&type=1

 

http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.265442453486435.68545.100000620461653&l=33aa05f834&type=1

 

Click on the above links for the hundreds of pictures of Armenia!

At the Baths

Wednesday 31^st August

After our regional meeting Martin, me and Melissa took the marshutka to Tblisi and checked in at the Hostel Georgia.  It is a bit seedy looking but very cheap and me and martin have a private room which consists of 2 twin beds shoved together.  There is always a gap or a lump in the middle in this situation and so not ideal lol.  They offer free tea, coffee and wine and so is very popular.  In fact there are a group of Koreans who never leave the hostel.  Just sit and use the free wi-fi and boil up some noodles.  We left our stuff and then went for a walk (just for a change) and walked along the river into the centre of town.  The pot holes are a marvel. It was great.  I have put photos on an album in facebook but include a couple here for good measure.  The government are putting a lot of money into enhancing Tblisi and are developing the left bank of the river.  European square is absolutely beautiful and will be very popular I am sure.  It is lit up at night, dancing fountains (say no more), the new modern bridge is lit up too and there are plans for galleries and concerts and all that kind of stuff.  Lots of happy people milling around – really nice.

On Thursday morning I got up and got dressed but after a bit it was clear I couldn't do much and went back to bed. Martin wandered around the city but at 4 when he came back I was still poorly. I lay in bed most of the day with stomach cramps and a temperature. It was pretty surreal with the noise from the traffic through the window and the music from the ever present Koreans downstairs. It was like driving in a car in the city with all the windows open and the radio on full blast. Felt better later in the evening and sat downstairs when Irene and Melissa returned.  Not 100% on the Friday and had a wander around and a massage and bath in the sulphur baths; but hoping that all will be well for Saturday and the trip to Armenia.

Simon and Irene joined us on Thursday the plan being that Simon would join the others on a trip to Kazbegi to see Mark and Irene would come with us to Armenia and Svaneti.  We had a very pleasant evening getting pissed on the free Georgian wine in the somewhat seedy little hostel.  Perfect!

On Friday, us three ladies went to the baths. This was the first time I have used a Turkish bath and it was an interesting experience. Firstly I was doing this with 2 fellow TLG teachers who I did not know especially well but getting naked and watching each other being scrubbed down by another woman seemed strangely natural! It was 30 lari each for an hour (£1.80) and firstly we showered and then got into a hot tub of water and just oohed and ahhed in delight and floatiness. Then we were massaged in turn by a very friendly woman who had strong hands lol.

Melissa went first and didn't scream in agony which was encouraging but when it came to my turn I wondered how she managed to keep quiet! For those of you not familiar with this particular kind of experience I will give you the low down. Firstly you lay on your back on a marble slab and she then she chucks 3 buckets of hot spa water over you. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh! There's no subtlety in this. She lifts one arm over your head then systematically scrubs with one of those knitted yellow nylon dish cloths each side of your forearm and upper arm and armpit with a kind of disinfectant - it had a mild vinegar smell (It probably was vinegar!) and then moved onto the other arm and repeated this. Then this hurt! She scrubs really roughly across your chest up and down, round, under what seems like forever and I would've shouted out but didn't want to be thought of as a baby lol. (Peer pressure hahaha) She then moves down and does the same thing with your legs and feet. 3 more buckets of water! You then have to turn over and she does the same to your back and legs. 3 more buckets of water! Laying on your back the whole thing is repeated with a soapy mixture and then a bit of a knead on the shoulders and some chopping on the back and 3 more buckets of water. Then you sit up and she washes your hair. Now this is not the kind of thing that happens in the hairdressers. No this is more what your mum did to you after a hard week when she just wants to get you sorted and packed off to bed. You sit up and straight away 3 buckets of water are poured over your head and I was transported back 45 years and want to complain "I wasn't ready!" and to ask for a flannel so the water doesn't get in my eyes. Then the shampoo squirted on my head and a frenzied lathering of my hair followed by a good scrub of my ears inside and outside and behind. She then gave my face a scrub with the yellow, knitted nylon cloth and I remembered when I was about 9 years old and had been eating a jam doughnut in the chip shop while my mum was talking with the owner. My face was covered with sugar and my mum took a piece of the paper they wrapped the chips in and proceeded to wipe the sugar off my face. "OW OW OW" It was just like that. 8 buckets over my head this time and up I jump up to let Irene share the fun. I left there safe in the knowledge that I had never been as clean in my life as I was at that moment!

When Martin ended up in the Co-teacher's bed

Sunday 28th August 2011

While we were in church, Juliette, one of my English co-teachers asked (or was it told) us to come for something to eat at her house after church. So we couldn't go home as we had now made this arrangement and she lived right next door to the church and so when she came out about 30 minutes later we went with her to her home. Now I will explain how Martin ended up in her bed.

When we went to Juliette’s before we only saw the bedroom come dining room and a glimpse of the kitchen on the right. This time we went into the room to the right of the kitchen and what a surprise. In sharp contrast to the grim decor of the first room this was a long rectangular room with a stone fireplace in the corner and pine cladding all over the walls. A long table, the length of the room was set out with plates for at least 20 people and an abundance of food. Loads of plates of food and triple layer cake stand full of gateaux and sweets.  It's not often as an adult I experience that child like wow surprise but there it was! We sat down at the table at one end on what appeared to be a makeshift long bench and there were already 3 guests. These were work colleagues of Dmitri, Juliette's husband. 

The feast begins

I wanted to save myself for the delights of the host family's feast that I has witnessed buying and being prepared but I was so hungry by this time (1.30) that I got stuck in. 2 different meat casseroles, mince and rice wrapped in cabbage leaves (dolma),oval shaped burgers, Russian vegetable salad, chicken pieces, and hot fried little birds with salt on that was killed by Dmitri. Dimitri is a big hunter and the walls have various animals nailed to them. His 3 friends are also big hunters and offer to take Martin hunting with them to catch bears and such like. Have I said how attractive the people are in Georgia? In the UK we imagine the French, Spanish and Italians are all gorgeous because it is based on films etc and when you go to the country then you realise that in fact it is the minority and most are pretty unattractive. Here in Georgia the reverse is true. I would say that 90% if not more are particularly attractive. They have fantastic bones, clear olive complexions, even features. In many cases they are astonishingly beautiful. Uleah is a case in mind. She is fair, green eyed and auburn hair but is like a queen. I am in love with her. She seems like a stranded princess lol. But seriously, they are mostly on the high end of attractive. The three men sitting opposite us are the exception however and I find myself wondering why this is the case and statistically in a room with 4 Georgians how likely it is that 2 are very unattractive.

Not the horns!!!

The toasts began. These are very serious events. Not like the way we do toasts in England. These are more 

like the father of the bride speech or a prayer. The host Dmitri stood up and began "To women, mothers, wives ...." rhythmically nodding his glass in acknowledgment to all of us and then we drain our glasses. Then the next man on the left stood up "To nature ...." and the glasses are drained again. We continue, with larger glasses around the room.  By the time it's Martin's turn they bring out the horns. I am sipping, Martin is draining and I give his some simple wifely advice "For F*** sake - slow down!" Because I can see that he has 6 glasses of wine that still has to move from his stomach to his blood stream. We had no breakfast and it is 1:30 and this is not a good sign. I think we do another round of toasts and then Martin stands (if that is what you can call it) "To Georgia, past, present and future" We both liked this but it didn't seem to go down well, I don't know why; maybe it was lost in translation.  

Down in one go!

Peer Pressure Rules!

Anyway, he was the ballast on the bench we were sitting on and as he stood up it tipped up and I nearly went to the floor but regained balance just in time! However Martin teetered, tottered, stumbled and so on that note and after much debate we took him upstairs to the bedroom to sleep it off. He couldn't walk and there was no way we could have made it back home so it was the best thing for him. Peer pressure was his downfall. Secure under the floral duvet I left him and went downstairs. Juliette and I popped over to Khatuna and were made very welcome. We sat down and ate again! Then we had a phone call "Martin's standing up!!" So we rush over and find him sitting outside the house. Immediately a table is brought outside and laid with melon. It is now becoming surreal - Martin is unintelligible and immobile and we are being fed again. "I woke up and you weren't there" was his excuse. I insist that he goes back upstairs and so he is back in bed out of harm's way.

A lesson learned?  Sadly no!

To my horror and his, he now wants to be sick. I look around in a panic for something suitable and other than a tall narrow vase I find an exquisite dark green glass fruit bowl which is beautifully painted and gold plated. OMG I had no choice. The deed is done, he sleeps and I go back to meet the next thrust of visitors and more insistence on food. After a while I go back up to clean up but this house has very basic plumbing. There is a bath and a toilet but no taps or means of flushing the loo. But there is a barrel of water and so I get to work trying to clean this heavy glass bowl hoping that no-one sees me. We didn't take our phones and so have no means of getting in touch with Beso, but finally Nino turns up and I walk back with her.  Our family have been partying in the yard and I am a bit cheesed off that we have missed the festivities at home. Beso, me and for some reason Maia, go and fetch Martin and take him back. Juliette says that Martin can stay but I am not having that. He needs to be back home and out of trouble. Peer pressure.