I may never move back to the United States. If I do, someone will have to drug me up and carry me on the plane! Everything in Spain makes so much more sense. Even the language. More on that part later. Tonight I came home to find my delicates neatly FOLDED and sitting on my desk. My other clothes were on hangers and ironed. While on the phone with Mimi tonight, she said she can't believe that I'm actually wearing non-wrinkled clothes! Another reason not to move back? Los puentes. Puente literally means, "bridge.We have a puente coming up at the colegio (where I teach) on Monday. Why? Because the national holiday is on Tuesday, so we have a puente on Monday to make it a long weekend. Get it? Again, absolutely brilliant. Another person who I'd like to meet in person and shake their hand. The only complaint I have? That the university doesn't celebrate puentes. Which is a huge problem for me. We are an American university in Spain. Thus, certain days like Election Day and Thanksgiving Day will be normal working/school days for me. I understand that. We are in Spain, not America. Fine with me. But, let me repeat, we are in SPAIN. Which means we should recognize puentes as well. Totally not fair to not recognize both cultures. If not one, then recognize the other! So not fair! You can't have it both ways people! As a result of this non-puente, I am stuck in Madrid. (Although, I am going to see the Ballet of Madrid at a Flamenco performance on Friday.) Which is probably a good thing, considering I have two mid-terms on Thursday of next week (plus a presentation) and one coming up on Monday. This in addition to the one I'm taking tomorrow and the other one on Thursday. SCARY. Someone please remind me why I decided to move to Spain and kill myself? Whoever came up with the idea of teaching twenty hours per week, takiing 18 credits this semester, and teaching three nights a week on the side is CRAZY. Yes, I'm talking about myself.
Maybe I am suffering from brain damage. Which is quite possible, given what has happened to me. The bed I sleep in is the one that folds into the wall. (I uploaded pics on the blog from a few days ago for those of you who didn't know.) And it's like a bunk bed set-up. Well, normally I sleep towards the edge of the bed, but I guess on Saturday night, I moved over. I sat up in the middle of the night and banged my head against the bottom of the other bed. The other bed that is metal. Yeah, not good at all. Especially when you are suffering from a fever. Last night I kept telling myself to stay close to the edge as possible. Which is quite funny, because as a child, I was prone to falling off beds. (That explains a lot about me come to think of it....I also had quite the powerful kick while sleeping. Ask my Grandmother.) I was never allowed to sleep on the top bunk at camp. EVER. Now I'm thinking I should sleep on the top bunk so I don't die from excessive head trauma....
I am really beginning to hate Spanish. Which is quite funny. Okay, that is a lie. I only hate my Spanish class. My professor, as I've griped about before, is extra demanding. He handed me back a composition today and marked out an entire sentence with no explanation. And of course I can't go see him during office hours because of my crazy, ridiculous, schedule. Thankfully, I am surrounded by native-Spanish speakers. I even take opportunities in the cafe at school to ask questions to my co-workers. That's how committed (or desperate) I am. They, along with my new Spanish family, have promised to help me learn and said poco a poco (little by little) I will learn the little things. Although, I'm fairly certain that even if I become a master guru of the Spanish language, my professor would still find a way to correct me. Just saying....
As much as I complain, it is a huge benefit to be improving my Spanish/teaching English at the same time. I can explain things to my students so much better. In English, we say, "I have a brother." But in Spanish, they leave out the preposition. My students make the same mistakes I make when translating to English! Kinda funny. Speaking of English, it is also a dream of mine to personally meet the inventor of the English language. I would love to shake their hand and tell them what an idiot they are. I mean, seriously, what kind of person comes up with 26 letters, but then each letter has fifteen million different sounds. In Spanish, there are five sounds: "Ah, eh, ee, o, ooh." Nothing more than that. And guess what, no matter what context, the sounds really do sound like those sounds! Unlike English. I would like to tell this idiot that he is making it so difficult for me to teach my students proper sounds and how to recognize letters. Tonight with one of my students, we were going over the alphabet. I wanted to tell her that you pronounce the letter "A" like, "aye", but guess what? There's not a sound in Spanish that I can refer to! Imagine that! The idea of short and long vowels, silent letters, etc, etc. is such a nightmare, I could scream. Can we reform the English language? I've heard so many people complain about immigrants speaking terrible English/not being able to understand it. Has the thought ever occurred to anyone that the English language is one of the most difficult languages to comprehend? It's because we have no rules! At any given time, the letter "A" could have eight different possible sounds. If you don't believe me, try explaining how to make sounds to a non-native English speaker. I guarantee you that you will give up within ten minutes. You can't compare sounds to anything, because we have so many. Okay, that's enough of my anti-English rant for tonight....
I have realized that the English classes the students get at school are pretty awful. They only teach certain things, but mainly how to memorize certain phrases. Every day, the students and I go through the same painful routine. They sound like robots.
Me: "Good Morning."
Them: "Good Morning, Sarah"
Me: "How are you today?"
Them: "I'm fine thank you, and you."
For many of them, this is the only English they know. Sad. Clara's parents told me tonight that they are hoping she will really improve her English with me. Ha! No, seriously, the poor child has had English class for two years, but really doesn't understand a thing. So tonight, we worked on basic verbs and sentence structure. The time I will spend with my private students will allow them to receive specialized lessons, so hopefully, we will see some results! Today, I had the third grade class and all of my "special kids" are in there. Mireia, the girl who gets one-on-one lessons with me twice a week at school, Elio, who I am living with, and Clara and Carlos, two of my private students. At home we call Elio, "Mini" because he is named after his dad and to differentiate the two, we use the nickname. Without thinking, I called him Mini today in class, forgetting that at school he goes by Elio! We all laughed about it at dinner tonight!
This whole mid-term concept is ruining my life/sleeping schedule. (Although, it was a good excuse to pop open a can of fanta limon and eat a bag of my sacred Cheddar and Sour Cream chips!) No wonder I'm tired all of the time. I don't get any sleep! If I can just make it through next Thursday....
Quote of the day: "If you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun." -Katherine Hepburn
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