Friday, October 24, 2014

At Least Moses Looked the Part.

Being a foreigner is not the funnest thing ever. People mess up your name so you have to go to the same office for the same paperwork 5 times. People exclude you from social things like for example, a man always lets a woman have an open seat on the bus. But when Im next in line for one, some guy always slips in front of me.

Things you find amazing or disgusting are stupid and pointless for others. But when it comes to what they think is important, you have no right no violate it. That bothers me. Just on a human level. I get that I should adapt to them blah blah blah... we do the same things in the US- we force people to become like us. But is that right or fair? On a certain level, its necessary for survival but on another level it robs people of their identity. Its a universal problem that we have always faced since the beginning. We have always rejected what is different out of fear and discomfort and imposed upon others to be more like us. As human beings, we have failed each other in this way.

Enough of that. I´ll rant about the school system here instead.
Even at my poor, inner city high school that everyone thought was unmanageable, there was more respect for authority and more maturity on the part of the student. Kids here are so different. In sixth grade, I still have to essentially check every bag to make sure they take home materials that I instructed them to take home. They don´t listen to anything that is said to the group- they come one by one to ask questons that I repeated multiple time. I write it, explain what I wrote, and then explain in Spanish just in case someone missed something. And they still come ask me what they are supposed to do. Not just details. Like... explain the whole assignment. I don´t know how to get the point across that there is simply not time to carelessly sit there and have me explain everything in private. We will never more into new material that way.

Then theres the arguing with me, and correcting me, and comparing me to other teachers and flat out refusing to do what I ask. And if I dole out any consequences, a parent protects their little angel and files a complaint. So basically we are on our own with zero support from anybody. Its flat out exhausting.

Its simply because I´m different. The kids dont think that they have to pay attention. They disregard me as a person.

Well, time for class. My Fridays are great- I only have three class hours. But its still the end of the week and I just want to go home. All the way home. Because the thing I miss the most right now is probably Chipotle. 

Sunday, October 5, 2014

Make Yourself at Home

It's not easy to do, here. After leaving all the things I might have potentially had to make a dwelling a home, the only things that I've been able to afford so far are plastic closet organizers and curtains for my bedroom.

I just wish I had an oven. There are so many things that an oven would do for me to make me feel like this is home. I just want to bake cookies and others things the way I'm used to doing it- not being forced to 'improvise' (Resorting straight to frying EVERYTHING).

It's hard to have white, bare walls and the fact that a sewage smell eeks in from the drain on the kitchen and bathroom floors doesn't exactly bring back warm memories. But I suppose that's how life is in an apartment. Not much you can do to change it.

With Christmas around the corner, I find myself trying to not have expectations. What if my husband hates the tree? Or the Christmas music I've listened to since I was a baby? What if I'm completely disappointed by Christmas in Ecuador? The country is so Catholic that I can't imagine if being without spirit or celebration. I just hope that it echoes what I know in some small part.

But I won't get ahead of myself. I'm finally making a list of house projects so that I have goals to work towards. No use floundering in sadness when I could be scheming and changing the situation. I'm pretty sure taping up the smelly floor drains and getting an oven are top priority.