What should I share? The past few weeks have been filled with plenty of enlightening moments followed by equally deep confusion. Not much has changed but rather keeps on being rearranged. A quagmire of social cues that I always have to be on the lookout for.
At the beginning of the month I went to Slovakia to visit my host family from high school. I forgot how much I love them. It was a relief to be with people I don’t feel constantly judged by. They’ve accepted my flaws and transformations. They were amused by my “new” Russian accent.
I was quite taken by what a difference a border makes. Being neighbors, Slovakia and Ukraine have many things in common. However, being a part of the European Union and not having a Soviet thumbprint makes Slovakia seem prosperous and healthy in comparison, despite its serious problems. I encountered more culture-shock crossing into Slovakia than I did vacationing in Georgia or meeting my family in Barcelona. I still haven’t processed why this seemed so significant to me.
The picture above is a border crossing from Ukraine to Slovakia. It's a village that was split in half when Czechoslovakia gave this region to Ukraine. A taxi drove me to this crossing, telling me that I could cross on foot here and avoid waiting for a bus in the major city that would take over 4 hours to go over the same distance because of drug searches and so on. Unfortunately, this border is only open to members of the EU. It was still worth the money I lost getting there and back to the major city. A makeshift bazaar of alcohol and cigarettes awaits EU citizens on the Ukraine side.
Other things I’ve wanted to share:
I wish there was a way to bottle children. There are several younger students that make my school day worth it. I never want them to lose their curiosity and ability to look for “why’s.” Along with that, there should be some sort of sticker system for parents that produce such joys. I’ve been tempted at times when I’ve seen parents of these students to thank them.
My school got toilet paper this week! Typically, either classrooms buy toilet paper or students bring their own. The toilet paper my school acquired is quite ironic though, and won’t be a permanent addition. Why is this? It’s pages of old textbooks in Russian. I don’t know what is more appropriate, to let them rot in dark corners, burn them, or use them in such an intimate matter. It’s really cold at my school and the coal shipments are low...
I was reading “Renewing American Leadership in the Fight Against Global Hunger and Poverty” by the The Chicago Initiative on Global Agricultural Development through the Chicago Council on Global Affairs and was intrigued to see in the map of water scarcity that most of Europe has little or none and yet the political boundaries that form Ukraine are approaching water scarcity.
I’m frustrated with journalists and institutions that misrepresent the Peace Corps. We’re such a large open organization that creating a modestly accurate description shouldn’t be difficult.
The one thing that trumps my foreign nature occurs every Tuesday at 8 PM. The Ukrainian version of Wife Swap is hugely successful and has greatly opened my village’s understanding of how people can be diverse and it’s not only okay but natural. Wednesday mornings the teachers talk about this program like it’s a close relative.
I’m blessed with the ability to choose my fate, within reason. I choose my friends. I choose what I want to study, where I wanted to go to school. I’m not responsible to anyone but myself. I have an honor to live up to, but it’s a privilege rather than a burden. Not many people up until recently have been able to experience such freedom.
Ukraine suffers greatly from an “us versus them” mentality. It’s further pounded-in by the language because of the use of possessives when describing things. It’s always ours. Our language. Our food. Our culture.
Understanding facial expressions and pauses in speech is critical to an American’s survival in Ukraine. If I were to have entered the teachers’ room last week without understanding Ukrainian culture I would have thought someone was about to be burned at the stake. It’s funny because Americans are always blamed for being too loud. Ukrainians would have us beat any day for their lack of inside voices. What I thought was a life and death situation was a rant about how the price of buckwheat had gone up. True, it’s upsetting but in my opinion not worth that much rage.
Our school’s nurse retired. It’s been chaos ever since especially with the flu going around.
It’s come to my attention that one of the special needs children that I work with has limited vocabulary in her native language. She knows how to describe things, but she doesn’t know what they’re called. For instance, she doesn’t know the word “kitchen” but she knows that it’s where food comes from. I think most of her hurdles come from a difficult home life, which she is now out of. She wasn’t spoken to. She didn’t learn basics like colors until she was 6. It’s really hard to teach someone a foreign language that doesn’t have vocabulary to compare it to. She's just happy to have someone paying attention to her.
A new study by Elizabeth Bonawitz:
Through two experiments with pre-schoolers, Bonawitz has found that teaching can be a “double-edge sword”. When teachers provided specific instructions about a new toy, children learned how to play with it more efficiently. But the lessons also curtailed their exploratory streak. They were less likely to play with the toy in new ways. Ultimately, they failed to find all of its secrets. ...
Context clearly matters. When the apparently knowledgeable teachers in the experiments provide a seemingly complete lesson about the toy, the children deduce that there is no more to learn. If the lesson is interrupted, or if the instructor seems like a novice, the child deduces that there is more to discover. Bonawitz thinks that these abilities start from a very early age, when children are still in pre-school or kindergarten.
“Ukrained” definition: essentially, culture shock. More specifically, when a Peace Corps Volunteer living in Ukraine experiences a sort of cultural misunderstanding or incident resulting in awkwardness, discomfort, embarrassment and/or surprise.
You know you’ve been “Ukrained” when...
... you misinterpret what a man says and end up riding an hour on a marshrutka (minibus) in the wrong direction.
... you agree to help a man hold a chicken only to soon find out you’ve become an accomplice in its beheading.
... you go to rinse the soapy clothes soaking in the tub, and the water goes out.
... the bus you are riding dies, so you shrug and get out to push-start it with the rest of the guys.
... your school director tells you you’ll have to deliver a speech (in Russian) about teaching healthy lifestyles to Ukrainian youth - with only an hour notice.
... you forget the “sh” change when telling people “I write.” Which means you just told an audience, inevitably of fellow teachers, that “I pee.”
... you know, personally, the cow where you get your milk. And have stepped in the (massive) piles of poop it’s left in your yard.
... you sign 40 autographs at a school with 35 students.
... fishnet hose, a mini-skirt, and stilettos look completely appropriate and maybe even stylish for a 14-year old at school.
... learning that the words “I have a son or daughter” means more than just “I have a son or daughter.”
... you show up at a classroom to give a lesson, then the teacher dismisses the students you were supposed to teach because she didn’t get the memo.
... you are told to wear sportivni odezhda (sports attire) and show up in a T-shirt, baggy jeans and sneakers - only to find everyone else wearing sequined tank tops, tight skinny jeans and high heels.
