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#my spanish is rusty (by rusty I mean I do not speak spanish beyond hola and gracias eek)
ghosts-cyphera · 6 months
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okay but hypothetically if I were writing a little something something for valeria x fem!reader, what would be some nicknames that val could have for her?
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tina-incambodia · 6 years
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5 months deep.
3 months in this hammock I call home.
I haven't written in a while, not even a personal journal entry. Lots of noteworthy things have happened, things I probably should have written about so years from now when my time here is remembered as a short but remarkable chunk of time, I can recall the moments that made it so.
School started a month and a half ago and after two weeks of observing, I've now been teaching for one month. One of the most essential goals of Peace Corps is to create sustainable change. As a teacher, this not only means knowing your shit so you can successfully teach English including grammar, phonics, word use, vocabulary, comprehension, etc. but also passing skills like lesson planning and classroom management on to teachers that will be here much longer than my meager two years. In Cambodia, PC English Teachers work with Khmer English teachers, counterparts,, to ensure that this goal is reached; therefore, I am always working together with another teacher. This both eases and increases the challenges of teaching. There are many, many times where I don't have the Khmer vocabulary to explain English grammar or vocabulary. I also am completely and utterly unaware of the ins and outs of a Khmer classroom or school happenings. For these reasons, its great to have someone to have my back and work with me. However, there are just as many times during which I disagree with how my counterpart chooses to execute a lesson. And in some cases its difficult to coerce a counterpart into lesson planning, setting goals for students, and deviating from the confusing textbook which is, more often than not, far beyond students level of fluency. And even more frustrating is that, when the curriculum is followed, students are attempting to memorize words such as demand or develop when they have not even learned how to ask, "What is that?" or, "Where is the bathroom?" This is indicative of the styles and practices of the traditional classroom, not only here in Cambodia, but everywhere. The practice of the teacher at the front, the only one with a voice and the students in rows, with their pens, eyes, and ears. So lies the answer to the question, "Why did my student get an A on the National Exam in English but can hardly speak?" See, these kids can memorize till they are blue in the face,  and many of them can name English grammar terms and rattle structure I've never though twice about. However, with most of them, their ability to speak is at a stand still after the initial, "Hello, What is your name? Where are you going." So when I stand in front of a class as they drill their vocabulary and copy the grammar forms into their notebook which, upon completion, is immediately closed and shoved into their desks or back packs, I try to hold back my sighs. For as a new second language learner, I understand the only way to learn and remember how to speak is to practice speaking, but also as a new comer to my community, school, and classroom, my ability to make change to the style of rote memorization is limited to sneaking in a question and answer series or a word map to warm up at the beginning of class. I tread slowly up stream. Against the afore mentioned traditional classroom setting which allows no space or time for student discussion or conversation, the Khmer classroom standard  and climate of rote memorization, student shyness and inexperience with having a voice of their own in the classroom, some teachers unwillingness to lesson plan or deviate from the textbook, and of course underneath it all, the gender thing. So, as a tread I'll move around a pebble or two. I'll make little changes along the way and maybe one day my teachers won't be so apprehensive to let the students speak and the students will find confidence in their voices.  
While I'm on the subject, I'll attempt to give you a little insight into the world of a Khmer school. My high school is made up of 5 long school house buildings each containing 5 or 6 large classrooms which house 40-60 students all day, one office, and a building called the library, but currently not used in our traditional sense of the word, "library." There's dozens of food stalls on opposite ends of a large court yard in the middle of the parallel classroom buildings which are a pale, sun bleached light yellow. Maybe like the walls of a non-gendered nursery. School runs from 7-11 and 1-5. Students go home for lunch, sometimes traveling 12k on a bicycle. Many of the girls are responsible for cooking for their families during this 2 hour break. A rusty inside rim of a tire hangs from a tree with a small wrench resting on it, this wonderful upcycle serves as the school bell and it is rung, or hit with the wrench rather, every hour signifying the beginning of the 2 hour blocked class, the beginning and end of the 15 minute mid class break and the end of a block. The students wear uniforms. With white or light blue button up shirts, the girls wear navy blue, black or gray skirts, and the boys, pants of the same color. The crisp uniform is coupled with a red and white cloth name tag pinned to their shirts. The teachers dress to impress; the men in freshly pressed button downs and slacks and the women in long Khmer skirts called sampots and pretty, delicate blouses. The students stay in one class and it’s the teachers that come and go. The students are responsible for keeping their classroom clean and tidy. They stand upon the arrival and entrance of the teacher. If you're not there before the teacher, you're late but there's not much consequence to this regardless. I asked my counterpart what I should do when a student is very late, he said "You could make them stand on one foot and sing a song.” I think I'll pass... In my short experience, students rarely are asked to hand things in. They have monthly exams which for all 12 subjects, seem to fall in the same week. In addition to the 6-8 hours they study per day, as assigned and required by the school, students often attend private lessons for about 25 cents an hour before and after school held by teachers who are looking to supplement their small income. I've met 12th graders who study from 6 am to 8pm with a two hour lunch break to travel the 12k on a pothole filled road home. 
My school has 2,000 students so the energy is grand. And its even better now that, one month in, instead of just staring like I have 10 green heads, the students shout, "Hello Teacher!" Which lends it self to my 5 month reflection... Today is Saturday and I've been sitting in a hammock for the better part of the afternoon. This morning I met some 10th graders at school that want to practice English and later a few 12th graders will come over my house to do the same.  Today marks 5 months in Cambodia so I will force myself to be reflective and ask the question my uncle always asks and I always dread for some reason, "What's been your biggest take away?" Two months of brutal training sprinkled with emotional and physical pain, new and wonderful friends, families, and homes, a roller coaster of feelings: emptiness and fullness, power and helplessness, over and underwhelmed, confidence, fear and doubt. I've never been away from home for longer than 3 or 4 months and even then, I was a 3 hour plane ride away. Now, I'm here on my maiden voyage and have yet to hit a fatal iceberg. (Please excuse the dramatic titanic reference.) I have to say, I'm pretty proud of myself... finally. I didn’t realize until I got here that this was a sacrifice, it was always just a big adventure far off in the distance. And until now, I accepted other people’s praise but brushed it off as unnecessary. I didn't really understand how and why they could be so proud... I just got on a plane and now I'm here and I wake up every day and do the thing.  But now I'm here. 5 months in. I live with an incredible family of three that has shown me more care and patience that I could ever ask for. I taught my little sister and brother to make friendship bracelets and we sat all afternoon and each made one. Just the other night after dinner I told them I did ballet for 15 years and we ended up practicing P-k turns and first and second place around bowls of rice. We visited Kep, a province just south of here, ate grilled stingray, and collected shells on the beach. I speak freakin' (broken) Khmer when I could hardly get passed "Hola" in Spanish class. I teach 4-6 hours Monday through Friday at a high school in rural Cambodia and wear a traditional Khmer skirt to work each day. Students ask me when I have free time and for my phone number so they can practice their English. I've had moments of destiny at so many turns to reassure me that I am on the right path. I met a Cambodian-American deportee from Rhode Island, I found a Veteran Peace Corps Language Teacher hidden in the mountains. I am now a part of a family in which I have found so many similarities with my own. My bongsrij face timed with my mom in the US and they shared tears as their love for me and each other stretched across deep oceans. Every day is a challenge. The act of participating in the world that I am in and attempting to reach my goals as a PCV are challenges. But it’s also a challenge to find motivation to actually participate in this world to begin with, which is probably what I struggle with the most. It is all too easy to sit in my hammock all day. My house is a safe space. I do not have to struggle to understand a stranger's Khmer or work with a stubborn teacher. It’s easy to bury my head in a book for hours and pretend I'm not in bumfuck Cambodia. But I'm not too hard on myself. It’s a process. Everything is a process; long, short, big, and small. I could fight it or I could try push it along at a faster pace. Or I could enjoy it for what it is.
Peace  
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