Looking back: Learning Ukrainian

Ukrainian phrases:

Мене звати джесіка. - My name is Jessica.

Я з америки, штат колорадо. - I am from America, the state of Colorado.

Our lessons took place at our language teacher's house. His living room was our classroom and he filled poster sheets of paper with verb tenses, conjugations and charts. He started each lesson by asking us simple questions about our state of being, what we did in our free time and if we liked the weather outside. I later used this same technique in my own classroom.

I often confused “Yak tebe svaty?” (What is your name) with “Yak cpraviy?” (How are you) and answered “What is your name?” with “I’m doing very well, thank you, although I didn’t sleep well.”

We played matching games and board games that Serhiy created himself to learn the many and varied tenses of the verb, "to go." I hated that verb. Slightly different letters added on to the verb meant you were coming, leaving, going around, returning, or that you had been or would go. We learned that the noun ending changed depending on the context and conjugation of the verb.

I was able to start having simple conversations with my host family. In one conversation, Baba said the family would be sad when I left and I couldn’t go very far away so I could visit. I said I would like to stay close and would definitely come visit. Well, that was the point I wanted to get across. Because of my limited language, it sounded more like, “yes, yes, not far away, not far away. I’ll tell the Peace Corps. (laughter) I will visit by mashrutka or bus or train.”

I asked Oksana if I could use the Internet and she said, "Ask me in Ukrainian" so I said "ok, можна … iнтернет?" (Can I... Internet).

I didn't know the word for 'to use' so she said it went like this, “(insert word that is seven syllables long)" and I said, “Say what?”

And she wrote it down, використовувати. I glared at her and said, "Why does that word have a million letters?"

"Huh?" she asked.

"1,2,3,4...15." I said. “The word 'use' has three letters and that word 'vikoristovoovaty' has 15 letters. Why?"

She giggled at me.

I came home from my Ukrainian lessons one day and my host mom Svyeta tried to ask me why I was home early. But she didn’t speak English and my Ukrainian was still awful so she tried to ask me this with a dictionary. Something about how Oksana was at school until 2 or 3 p.m. and I was home earlier than that.

What I got out of it was that I wasn’t learning the language very quickly and I should be working harder like Oksana, and I was home early because I hadn’t studied very hard.

My insecurity might have played a role here. So I burst into tears.

“I’m doing the best I can and I’m far away from home and I miss my family and I study every night and it’s not like I can learn a language in three weeks! It’s a hard language and it’s confusing and I just don’t get it!” I said, in a speedy rush of English while she stared at me, bewildered and wide-eyed.

Oksana came home then and asked, “What is going on?” She translated what her mom had been asking me.

“Oh,” I said. I was so embarrassed I didn’t want to tell them what my interpretation had been.

The next morning I found out from three different people in town that everyone knew I had cried. Thank you, small town.

Looking back: breakfast and travel in Ukraine

Nov. 7, 2007

I have had many discussions with my host grandma and sister about how I do like soup and borscht and chicken on the bone; I just don’t like them for breakfast.

Yesterday when they gave me soup and I picked at it and ate the boiled eggs and sausage instead, they told me that soup would start my day out right. There are many vitamins in soup. It is good for me and will not make my stomach feel bad. “Yes, that’s true,” I said, still skeptical.

“When you go back to America,” Baba (Grandma) said, “You will tell your mom, soup for breakfast!” I laughed and laughed.

The other day when Baba and Mama were upset at my host sister for not eating enough, they pointed at her and said “Jessica!” and pointed at me and back to her. Teasing both of us because I don’t eat enough.

I just want to eat something light like eggs or cereal for breakfast, I try to tell them.

“You can eat anything anytime you want,” my host sister says. I think she feels I’m limited by these rules I’ve imposed on myself. “Where is this book that says you can’t eat lasagna for breakfast? I have not read that anywhere.”

“It is how we do things in American. We have certain things for breakfast and other things we eat for lunch and dinner,” I said, giggling.

“You are wrong, we are right,” she told me. 

I made my host family lasagna for supper the other night. I had to find the ingredients in Kyiv, and they were startled by the flat noodles. They all liked the meal and said “very good” over and over in Ukrainian, so I was pleased. There was some left over and Baba said, “Tomorrow. We’ll eat it tomorrow.” I started to smile and shake my head at the same time that she said, “in the morning. You can eat it in the morning.”

“Not for breakfast,” I said and laughed. “I’m not eating lasagna for breakfast.”

“What do you want?” she said in Ukrainian.

“I want eggs and malincy (similar to pancakes with berry jam) and Muesli,” I said, and even responded in Ukrainian. “I will eat lasagna for lunch.”

“For lunch,” she agreed.

------

I went to Kyiv with my host grandmother last week to visit her daughter and daughter’s family. They live in a nice apartment in Kyiv. 

Her daughter – we’ll call her Tammy – and family took me to the center of Kyiv to see some of the main points of interest. We went to Shevchenko Park and saw the university named after the famous poet. They pointed out to me many of the historic buildings, and we saw the Golden Gates memorial. They explained how much of the city was destroyed after the second world war and there are not many ancient buildings left. We went into the underground mall in the Center and my eyes rounded at how modern it was. And I was excited that there was a McDonald's food. American food! Sometimes I miss fast food. I know that we eat too much of it in America but I still miss it.

“I like McDonald’s,” said Tammy’s daughter, Jane.

“Jessica, maybe you want Verenicky (meat dumplings) or something else? Tell Jane that McDonald’s is not healthy,” Tammy said.

“McDonald’s is not healthy,” I said to Jane in a small voice. “But I really, really want it. Like really, really.” So we had McDonald’s. It was wonderful.

The train ride back to my village the next day was two hours. I pulled out my Ukrainian flashcards and discussed them with Baba. Pretty soon, the older ladies nearby were watching me, interjecting a comment or two if I pronounced something wrong. A young lady on the train came up to me afterwhile because she had overheard me speak English. We talked for awhile in English.

Meanwhile, a drunk young man was very interested in me and our conversation and would try to interject comments or talk to us. His mom hushed him up sometimes. He’d walk by in the aisle and tried to talk to me or grab my hand and I’d gently push him away, or just ignore him.

Finally, he stood up and tried to touch my knee. I shoved his hand away and instantly there were about five babusyas on their feet, shouting at his mother to control her drunk son. My new friend translated. “She’s saying she hasn’t done anything wrong and her son is just fine, they’re the ones who are wrong,” she said. “They’re saying she shouldn’t take him out in public and that they’re going to call the police …” Then she added. “This doesn’t really happen that often.” The two got off at the next stop.

It was very exciting.

Looking back: learning to live in Ukraine

October 2007

We had a crash course in all things Ukrainian during those first three months. We learned how to teach in Ukrainian classrooms and had four hours a day of language classes.

Our training teacher taught the English class and we observed her. I felt like an exotic bird. Before class, the children giggled and clustered around the desks on the other side of the room. They stared at us and whispered like we were a particularly interesting exhibit at the museum. Most of these children had never seen Americans before and they acted the way I might if Brad Pitt or Ewan McGregor stopped by to hang out.

“Who will have the nerve?” I wondered, amused. Finally a student ventured forth from the pack. “How old are you?” she blurted at us. We answered and she went to report back to her group.

During a break, Antonella and I walked across the street to get a snack from a yellow kiosk. It was the closest available food and a hot spot for the students to buy snacks. 

We waited patiently for our turn while children around us pushed in and placed orders. It was a free for all and we would have been standing there into next year if we hadn’t started thinking like Ukrainians. “You just have to get in there,” I muttered to my friend. “You’re going to be next. Go, go, go!” And I pushed her forward. We learned that lines, or queues, are not widely used in Ukraine.

The village school used a series of old, pictureless textbooks by a Ukrainian author who had purportedly been to England and had a well-rounded grasp of English and American cultures.

The map of North America at the front of the book was a basic outline and placed “Washington” somewhere below Lake Erie, and Niagara Falls across the arm of the U.S. under New York. It took some doing to convince the students that there was a Washington D.C. and a state of Washington, and that they were in two separate locations.

The books’ technique for teaching English was to memorize and recite vocabulary words and paragraphs of text. Often for homework, the students were told to retell a text. This meant the kids memorized the paragraph and recited it in class.

It was rare that more than three or four students actually completed the assignment. Most of the students would stand up, stutter through a few words, and then sit down after the teacher wrote down their low mark (grade).

We wrote lesson plans and used the tools we’d been taught in our technical training sessions to teach the children. The first day that we were to teach, Michelle was the only one who taught. She had a third period class and the rest of us were supposed to teach fourth period lessons. However, all classes after third period were canceled because the students helped clean the school. I had stayed up late planning a lesson that never happened and I was upset at Ukrainian last minute schedules.

We asked Michelle how she did as the first veteran among us and she only muttered, "I don't want to talk about it."

My first official day of teaching went well. The seventh form students ate up what I said and thought I was pretty awesome. I taught food vocabulary. I taught the words for "breakfast," "lunch" and "dinner" and cut out pictures of food from magazines. In the United States, we have a different idea of food. We eat definite things for different meals. Eggs, pancakes, juice and fruit are for breakfast. Sandwiches are for lunch. And hot things like meat and potatoes are for dinner (that is, depending on where you live in the states). In Ukraine, they eat everything for all meals. Borshch is the only thing that is considered a lunch or dinner item.

Sestra asked me if I would come to her class some time to teach. She was in ninth form and I didn’t have her class as one of the ones I was scheduled to teach. She arranged with her teacher a time for me to come.

When I arrived at the class after my Ukrainian language class, the teacher told me I had the students for the whole hour and she'd be in the Teachers’ Lounge.

I had to extend the 20-minute presentation I had prepared to 50 minutes by going slowly and then thinking madly for other things to say. I asked them everything they knew about American and pointed to popular states on the map. After class, the students told me to come back and teach English every lesson.

The toilets at the school were in back. They were small round holes cut into the ground inside four stalls. The female pupils waited outside for their turn because there were no doors on the stalls.

***

On Saturdays, we met with another American cohort in a nearby town. It was 30 minutes away by bus. The first week while waiting for the bus, Michelle walked over to a kiosk to get a bottle of water. A few minutes later, she returned empty-handed.

“I failed,” she said, downcast. “How?” I asked. “I have no idea,” she said. “I asked for Voda (water) and she said ‘nee’ and I said ‘tak’ and she said ‘nee’ so I said, ‘fine’ and left.” (She had probably asked for vodka because the words are almost the same).

When the small bus came and the door opened, it was packed and I had to stand next to the driver.

The driver stopped to let someone off and two more people got in. Then it stopped again and three more people got in. Then it stopped and the driver argued with the waiting people, obviously letting them know we were full. That didn’t stop two more insistent people from shoving their way on. I found myself sitting backwards on the dashboard almost on top of the driver, hunched over with my hand on the driver’s shoulder so I wouldn’t fall into the sardine-in-a-can passengers.

Michelle muttered when we got off, “The man behind me got to third base.”

Looking back: First days in a Ukrainian village

I thought it might be nice to look back and remember some great experiences in Ukraine. I lived in a village for 3 months in October to December 2007, before I moved to a larger town where I worked as an English teacher from January 2008 to December 2009.

Oct. 4, 2007

(Names and places have been changed)

Sestra (Ukrainian word for sister) later liked to tease me that the first thing I said when I walked in the door and met her parents and grandparents was, “Where should I put my shoes?” This was something we’d learned in orientation. Ukrainians take off their shoes when they enter a house and they bring candy or chocolate. I was nervous. I didn’t want to offend anyone.

Of course, that’s when they led me into their kitchen and we crowded around the table and they beamed at me and served fish.

There was that fish with the eyes sitting on the plate and sardines and caviar on bread. I ate the potatoes and bread and bravely nibbled at the fish.

They kept pressuring me to eat more, more, and eventually I just couldn’t because it was all too fishy and I could see that they were discussing it. Sestra looked at me helplessly like she didn’t want to translate so finally I said, "I don't really like fish ... but it's okay, the potatoes and bread were delicious." This distressed them and Sestra said, "We didn't know, we'll serve something else tomorrow."

I said, “No it's fine!”

They served an apple cake and chocolate and coffee for dessert.

Sestra didn't really understand the concept of my pickiness. "There's not many things I don't eat," she said.

I never realized just how picky I was until I started traveling, because I could be choosy with my selection in the states. I only like six fruits, I love meats, but not their organs, and I’m also relatively selective with vegetables.

They served me borscht, a famous Ukrainian dish of tomato, beets and cabbage. I’m not usually a fan of beets but had to let that one go since the soup was tasty.

The first night, I blew their electricity twice. I had plug adapters but my surge protector didn’t have the proper electrical adaptation. I tried to plug it in, there was a pop and the lights went out. My stomach dropped and I thought, "Nice, I just murdered their electricity."

Her father knew what to do and the lights came back on. Then he examined the surge protector and my other appliances, and finally took it away with him. He did something to it and got it to work with their electricity.

I lay in bed that first night, wide-eyed, lying in an unfamiliar room in an unfamiliar house with strange electricity and food, in an unfamiliar country, and I was gripped with panic again.

I spent a lot of time over the next few days buying prepaid phone cards after I had purchased a cheap mobile phone, and calling my parents and friends back home. I needed the connection and the village didn’t have good Internet, which meant I wasn’t able to send emails or get on Skype.

The village I lived in had a population of 5,000.

There were lots of trees and a few stores, factory, hospital, couple of cafe-slash-bars, a school and a “culture” house, which is where their disco nights and concerts were held. One street went through town, which was paved in the middle and turned to mud along the sides. It split near the school and a statue to the "Unknown Soldier." My house was to the left, by a deep gulley of overgrown brush and skeleton trees, which Oksana said was haunted. She and her friends told me about the ghost they’d seen there. They also liked to stage filmed episodes of the TV show, “Charmed,” which ran as reruns on an English channel.

My host family had a very nice house because the father was always making improvements. They had a western toilet and a shower that rivaled mine in the states. The shower stall had a radio and water came from a spigot in the ceiling, which was the only of its kind I ever saw in Ukraine. Usually, the showers were nozzles attached to hoses, and weren’t always anchored to the wall. It was a process of washing with one hand while holding the nozzle with the other.

I lived with a complete family; parents, grandparents and one 14-year old daughter, Sestra. They were open and welcoming, although also disapproving of the general sloppiness and obesity of Americans. Sestra had been learning English in school and picked even more up as we communicated. The rest of the family knew nothing. They were eager to point at objects and get me to say them.

I lived on the second floor in a small bedroom across from Sestra's room. The stairs up to my bedroom were so steep it was almost like a ladder. I had a stand-alone wardrobe and a desk with a lamp.

The family had pigs, a cow and chickens. They grew grapes along wooden posts outside their front door and had two nearby fields where they grew potatoes, beets, cabbage, tomatoes, cucumbers, carrots, strawberries and onions.

Let's never talk about this year again

I like all the memes. They make me feel better. Like the one that says, "On Dec. 31, let's all have a shot and then never talk about this year again." I would hope that the effects of this year do not carry beyond Dec. 31, but sadly, that will not be.

I think I stopped writing because I got busy doing online school, then enjoying the weirdest summer ever, then doing online school again. So here are some highlights.

• We were all sent home and had to figure out how to online teach! 15 percent of my kids participated.
• I hiked more this summer than ever before.
• I learned to paddle board and went to Boyd Lake more than ever before! (once it opened).
• If you can call riding the board like a fat canoe "paddle boarding..."
• I also hung out with close friends more than usual (I guess I travel a lot in the summers...?)
• Gracie turned 1 on Aug. 31. She learned to crawl. And wave. And point. And stand up. All those cute things babies do. Also, she's the cutest baby on the planet.
• I went back to school, unpacked my classroom and set up, learned that my FTE was reduced and I was joining the virtual academy, repacked my classroom, and brought it all home to my storage unit.
• My AUNT decided to move to Colorado from Nebraska, hunted for a place with us all summer, bought a house in August and moved in at the end of September!
• Then I started online teaching.

And THAT. 

I did volunteer over my counterpart teacher at my middle school to join the online school because I drive an hour to work, and live with a baby and my parents. So the idea of all that being a little easier sounded nice.

Then reality set in and I was mildly bitter at first because I was told I'd be one of four ESL teachers teaching about 400+ K-12 students. And I was assigned K, 1, 2 and high school. And we had daily scheduled Zoom meetings. (I cried a lot) I had not expected the challenge set before me.

However, then, as one friend says, I put on my "big girl pants" and set to work making the best of it. I rotate with my CLD team planning for the littles. And I learned all about how awesome Loom is when making instructional videos. I think maybe 40 percent of my high school students are doing the work? About half that comes to Zoom meetings and the others just do the work in our online learning system. So I plan weekly for synchronous and asynchronous instruction. There's other little teachery things we have to do - paper work and learning plans. My biggest struggle is how to reach all those kids doing nothing. 

It's a lot of work and sometimes it gets overwhelming but then I take a break and decide that it's OK to take care of myself and only do what I can do! I get to run up and kiss Gracie between classes, and have lunch with my mom. And I go for walk around the block between classes so I keep my steps up. So it's a give and take of work and some rewards.

But holy crap, who could predict a year ago that this is where we would be! Last year was weird enough for me having Gracie, being on maternity leave, coming back for like two months of classes...

Now I wear masks in the grocery store and recoil when someone sniffles near me and walk 10 feet to work and, and I have a BABY!?!?

The pandemic has allowed me to spend more time with family, and not feel stressed out if I'm not making enough time for other people because it's just not a good idea to get together anyway! But I pray for the people who have suffered from it physically or been affected by it - lost jobs, salary cuts, housing issues, emotional tolls. This pandemic is leaving deep and lasting scars.

Corona Virus

Well. Two months after my last blog, which is almost as long as I've been teaching since maternity leave, and I'm back to working from home.

A lot happened quickly in the last few days. Yesterday as I sat in my room, conducting my first day of online teaching to middle schoolers, I felt a sense of... like I was reeling just a bit. The whole country shut down in a matter of days. Stores are out of everything and we can't go shopping or to restaurants.  People are scared. Others are buying up all the hand sanitizer and gouging customers online. Memes on Facebook joke about the rarity of toilet paper. Leaves anyone? Too bad it's winter here so we can't actually go pick some leaves. I guess dead grass? Will probably itch. ;)

Mom said something good that she heard in an online sermon, you can either be scared, or pray. I liked that because in times like this, we should be thinking of others and praying for our relatives and older family members who might suffer.

Two weeks before school actually closed, we started preparing for that eventuality at school, although I didn't think it would really happen. Our principal asked us to assign each student a chromebook in our "home room" class (called Academic Enrichment or AE). We wrote their names on labels and used silver sharpies to write "property of..." the school district on each computer, so the kids could take them home. I kind of thought this was a lot of work for a plan that might never happen.

I started doing "silent classroom" practice with my students where they would log in and find instructions on what to do for classwork in a Google doc. Then they could also use the message feature in docs to ask me questions. Turns out that middle schoolers have a REALLY hard time with self-motivation and reading instructions without a teacher holding their hands. So it was good practice.

And then last Thursday night, March 12, we got the official announcement that school would shut down on Monday. Friday was a flurry of activity, making sure all students had a computer to take home and preparing them to learn online. On Monday, teachers came to school one last time to get any resources or last minute supplies, and to clean up rooms for a deep cleaning while we're gone.

We have gotten emails nonstop from various organizations offering free premium services to their educational products like Zoom, Loom, Kahoot, etc. That part has been amazing and I'll have to experiment with some of them.

Students checked in yesterday. I saw about 15 of 40 kids or so. They asked me questions and attempted to do their work. I made a whole bunch of calls this morning through a translator to get the rest of the kids to log on.

My school had its first staff meeting this morning through Zoom.

This whole thing is a lot! Parents teaching their kids, the whole nation suddenly homeschooling, people layed off or working from home. It's left us all reeling and it will be challenging to recover from this. I pray for everyone and whatever they're going through. Leave me comments here about what it's been like from your end... Sticking together is how we get through this.

Two weeks back at work

So, I was nervous to head back to school. It was nice hanging out at home with Gracie and my mom, going to exercise together and play with my nephews when they came over. The boys both fawn over Gracie and it’s so cute to see! But a girl’s gotta work.

So I headed back Jan. 6. Everyone was very warm and welcoming and happy to have me back. The first day was a work day and our boss had sent us an email that the morning would be “teambuilding” and “prepare to get messy.” I figured it was going to be some collaborative thing involving teams and shaving cream or something. Instead, we got to paint! He invited someone from a painting studio to guide us! Only thing missing was the wine. I told him later that it was like he had planned the activity just for me, because it was the perfect way to start back. I also got to visit with teachers and get my mind back in the game, and it was a nice easy transition. My sub had made me copies for my newcomers and told me where the other classes ended up and by the end of Monday, I felt prepared.

And then the kids came Tuesday. I have great kids. They’re sweet and excited. My first period “homeroom” class (we call it Academic Enrichment) are a group of sixth graders that seem to enjoy whatever I give them! Or at least go along with it. One of the activities we do is a community-building thing where we toss a ball to each other and take turns answering a thought-provoking question like “When is a time you have felt rejected?” After the first couple of times doing it, the kids have asked every day since if we can do the “ball throwing thing.” Which is adorable because try asking a group of eighth graders to stand in a circle and be serious about answering a question about themselves!

I’m starting to get my “sea legs” under me where I’m getting used to getting up at 6 a.m. and getting home at 5 p.m., and not seeing my baby all day…! :( I value the weekends all the more now where I can spend all day with her. She has been waking up once during the night since I started back to work. This means I might get up with her at 2 or 3 a.m., and then go back to sleep for a couple hours. If I sleep! Sometimes my mind starts racing, knowing I have to get up soon.

However, over the last two nights, I’ve added a tablespoon of rice cereal to her bottle, and she slept through the night until about 7 or 8 a.m.! So this week, we both might be getting more sleep! I worry about my mom watching her all the time, wondering if she’s doing OK. However, mom says she LOVES it and I shouldn’t feel at all guilty. Which is just nice because mom is amazing and so giving. And she loves this time spending so much time with her granddaughter.

Last week, Mom texted me as I was about to leave work and said, “Look, Gracie is starting to reach for things!” And I shot back, “Stop her until I get home!” That’s the annoying thing, missing milestones. We’ve had a talk - Gracie and I - about how she’s not allowed to say her first word or start crawling or walking until I’m there. She tracks toys with her eyes but it’s not been until recently that she actually reaches for things and interacts with them. Yesterday, she actually moved a toy ring to her mouth! Which I found exciting.

Oh, also, everyone in my family is getting into the Keto/fasting thing. I find it great and horrifying. We’re all cutting down on carbs and sugar but also, I don’t want to be one of THOSE people that always orders bunless burgers in restaurants! But also, it’s good, because it’s healthy.