Say yah to da UP, eh!

After many trials and tribulations I've finally reached the paradise that is the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. My journey began around midnight Friday night in Vladimir, when Vanya picked Sara, Eric and I up to go to Moscow. The drive to Moscow is always scary, especially at night in the winter, and this ride was no exception. But thanks to Vanya's mad skills we made it safely. Unfortunately, Eric's flight was much earlier than Sara's and mine, so we spent the early morning hours drinking tea and fending off drunk men in business suits having a birthday party at an airport cafe.

The flight from Moscow to New York City was long but uneventful, but when we got to JFK it was a huge mess. We were already late and I had to get my luggage and go through customs and check my luggage in again and then try to catch my flight. I went to the gate and there were hundreds of people there, no lines, and no flights displayed on the boards. They just called out a flight number and told everybody on that flight to go board the plane. I overheard that there were 36 flights leaving from those two gates. They called my flight number and I went outside to the runway and went to the plane they said was going to Cincinatti. (Yes, I had a connection in Cincinatti). We started getting on a plane but then someone ran over and told us to get off and get on a different plane. That gave us a lot of confidence that things were running smoothly. So we got on the other plane and then waited on the runway for a very long time before taking off.

That delay made us late to Cincinatti. We arrived at a very quiet airport, and I think everyone on that flight and on many others had missed their connections. They told me that I was on a flight at 1:45 the next day (Sunday) and gave me a hotel voucher, free meal vouchers, and an "overnight kit". I called my mom bawling and told her I wasn't coming home that night, and then got on the shuttle to the Drawbridge Inn in Fort Something, Kentucky. It sounded kind of sketchy, but actually it was a nice place. I was exhausted, but I decided that since I had a free meal voucher I needed to use it. So I went to the hotel restaurant around midnight and ate some French toast with two funny brothers from Indiana and I didn't feel so bad. I even got a free T-shirt in the overnight kit.

In the morning I got up and made it to the airport over three hours early just to make sure I wasn't late. Everything went smoothly and before 1:45 the plane had been boarded. They even started the engine. But then the pilot got on the intercom and told us that, unfortunately, no one had told the co-pilot that he had a flight and he had gone home. So now they were looking for another one and in the meantime, we should deboard and wait at the gate.

After another couple of hours waiting at the gate with no news, I decided to ask about another flight that was going to Minneapolis at 4:30. The woman at the gate told me to go to another desk to ask if I could get on it. The woman at that desk told me I couldn't get on that one, but I could get on another flight, on a different airline, leaving at 4:20. She said that was the best option, as the search for a co-pilot on Christmas Eve wasn't going so well. I had to run to the other end of the airport, but I made it in time and boarded the correct plane with a full crew.

My dad picked me up at the airport and we made it to my grandparents' house in time for Christmas Eve dinner. I was so happy to be home. I spent a nice Christmas at home with my family. I was planning to go up to Michigan to see my other grandma the next day.

But on Tuesday at 6 AM I woke up and threw up. That was followed by more throwing up and other unpleasant stomach complications. Actually, I don't think my stomach has ever felt that bad in my entire life. My grandma was calling every half hour or so to see if we were coming and she couldn't quite understand why I didn't want to get in the car for an 8 hour drive. My dad and brothers decided to go and my mom stayed and watched me writhing and moaning on the couch all day.

The next morning (yesterday) I felt good enough to make the trip, so my mom and I drove up and here I am, at the Super 8 in Houghton, Michigan. I better get my brothers and head over to my grandma's place. It's only 9:30, but my grandma and my parents have probably already been up for hours. I hope you all had a nice Christmas and I wish you a Happy New Year!

I was so busy before classes today, and having so much fun during classes, that I forgot how sad the last day is. But now, sitting alone in the teacher's office with only Gosha (the cat) keeping me company, I remember. Today was the last day for two of my groups; one intermediate level and one beginning level.

The intermediate class is a group of kids I've mostly had before, so I know them pretty well. They gave me a great present -- a pair of valenki, wool Russian boot things that will keep your feet warm through the coldest of winters. I put them on in the beginning of class and I've still got them on now. Now if only the weather would really get cold enough for me to need them...
During our class we looked at my photo albums, played some poker, and watched a little Ali G. They're a great group of kids and I'm sorry I can't fail them all and have them as my students again.

We had a great time in my next class, the beginners. Even though I've never had them as students and they've never been together as a group before this semester, I felt like we got to be a pretty close-knit class. I started hanging out with a couple of them outside of class a few times a week (besides being fun people to hang out with, it's good for me to spend time with them because we speak mostly Russian when we're together). We started out singing some Christmas songs and some Russian songs that I can play on my guitar. But soon it turned into a full-blown dance party. We have class in the biggest room at the American Home, which is still decorated with Christmas lights and a tree from our Christmas party on Saturday. I think we may have disturbed the other classes a little bit, as we were blasting dance party favorites like Toxic, Чёрные Глаза, and the Numa Numa song (last year's teachers know what I'm talking about). I got pretty sweaty dancing in my valenki, but we had a good time.

I think it's really hard to say goodbye to a group of students, even if I've only taught them for one semester. My favorite thing about teaching is meeting new people and getting to know them, but sometimes it's hard to meet so many new people because it means saying goodbye to so many. I know I'll see lots of them around next semester, but they won't be in my classes. And it makes me think of next summer, when I'll probably be saying goodbye to the American Home for good. Well, I better stop writing. I can't get too sad right now, I have to go through this another two times tomorrow.

The good thing about the semester ending is that I'm going home. So if you're in America, don't forget to call me!

Keep the change, you filthy animal!

Last weekend at the American Home we started getting ready for Christmas. On Saturday we’ll have our Christmas party, but last weekend we decorated our tree, put up lights, made posters and cookies, and sang some Christmas songs. Since Soviet times Christmas hasn’t been a very big holiday here. It’s celebrated on December 7^th, but the main winter holiday is New Years. Russians decorate trees and give gifts to celebrate New Years, not Christmas. But here at the American Home we have Christmas, with possibly a little Hanukkah mixed in (we sang Adam Sandler’s Hanukkah song along with the Christmas carols on Saturday, although we didn’t attempt to teach the students that one).

After decorating, singing, and baking, we showed the movie Home Alone. I don’t usually watch the movies we show here on Saturdays, but for some reason I stuck around for this one. I remember seeing it a million times when it came out in the theaters, but that was a long time ago. We laughed at the cheesiness of the robbers falling down the icy stairs over and over again, but I have to admit, the whole “appreciate your family” message kinda got to me. I think I would have cried at the end when Kevin and his mom were reunited if it weren’t for the fact that I’m going home for Christmas.

That’s right, this year I decided to go home instead of skipping around the world like I did last Christmas break. I’m leaving on December 23^rd and I’ll be home until January 5^th. So if you’re in Minnesota, let’s get together, and if you’re somewhere in America, call me. And somebody make sure there’s some snow on the ground, because we’ve got none here (the first time in 100 years there’s been a winter like this in Russia) and it’s starting to bug me.

Home Sweet American Home

Even when I'm worn out and don't really feel like teaching, I usually feel better when I go to class and see my students. And even when there's some hooliganery, usually we get something productive done. I've even found that sometimes it's better to let the class get a little anarchistic on me.

That happened yesterday in my 15ish-years-old BI (intermediate level) class. We played a game where a student had to come to the front and I would write the name of a person on the board behind them. Then the class had to give them hints about who they were using conditional sentences ("If you were this person, you would...") until the student guessed who they were. I had a list of people prepared, but the students said that they wanted to write the names for their classmates, so I let them. Then they wanted me to have to have a turn guessing, so we did a couple rounds of that (I was Jay Z and, departing from the "people" theme, a whale).
I changed their homework assignment according to their wishes too. At the beginning of class I usually ask them if they've done anything interesting since our last class and they usually say no. So I joked that their homework for next time is to do something crazy so they have a good story to tell. Well, at the end of class they remembered that and said that instead of writing a letter to me as they often do, they wanted to tell a funny story next class. So I gave in. We'll see if I get any good stories on Monday. I hope they don't do anything too crazy...

It's gratifying when students are even more involved than you expect them to be, even if it's at the expense of complete order in the classroom. Most of us agree that it's better to have a class of rowdy kids that say things than a room full of mature, quiet adults who stare at the table (some kind of middle ground would be nice, but hey, you can't win them all).

Not only do I get innovative ideas from my students here at the American Home, I also get them from the Russian staff. Last night Vanya, our night guard and easily the coolest person who works here, was looking for something to eat and not finding much. So he grabbed a loaf of white bread and a carton of milk and told me he was going to show me how to make a great meal. Narrating every step, he tore up the bread into pieces and put them in a bowl. Then he poured milk all over it and smooshed the bread into the milk to soak it. And that was it. He went on for quite some time about the wonders of this dish while I looked on dubiously. He asked me if I wanted to try it and I declined. He said that Americans were weak. He went to the living room, sat down in his chair, and finished off his concoction in a couple minutes. Then he came back in the kitchen and repeated the process with the other half of the loaf. "Russians eat bread by the loaf," he told me. I couldn't let his comment about weak Americans go, so I tried it this time. It tasted like bread soaked in milk. Ingenious.