Today was my last day teaching in the pueblos! In honor of this special occasion, I’ve written an ode* to the seven villages I called mine this year.
*note: I recognize this is not an up-to-code ode. Uruñuela, Huércanos, Alesanco, Hormilla, Tricio, Arenzana (de abajo) and Camprovín too One school, seven villages, six carpools to remember I wondered if I’d ever get sick of the car-ride view The answer is no – never I spent my days trying to recall Is it an A Week or B Week? Wait what class should I be in? I got it right, but sometimes was forgotten anyway – the gall! Each village is unique, with distinct personalities hasta el fin Yet somehow in every village I was greeted every day: “HEH-LLO TEEEECHAIR HOW ARE YOU TODAY” “I’m fine, thank you. How are you?” “I’MFINETHANKYOUANDYOU?” And somehow to this final week they still say: “France?” — “NO! England?” Ineffective? Who knows. It’s the life of an ETA. Alesanco, my first day I thought to myself “what luck! These kids are the best” The little ones pronounce their words well – hooray! The older ones are quick, but like to test I told myself “if this is the worst village, I’m set” Throughout the year you stayed my top All the challenges we gave, you met Even when a food unit meant guessing my allergies – stop!!! And when a recipe for “crepes” Ended up being more like pancakes Also, your arguing with the textbook should be kept on tapes In Hormilla, I took pictures from the top of the hill One for each season: winter, spring, summer, and fall I used to come weekly, until My schedule changed and I hardly came at all I spent Halloween here wearing an orange trash bag And then a red one for the Christmas show Inexplicably, I taught math, which made me want to gag With so few kids, there was always more than enough teachers in tow The bus home really does exist Schedule for 12:20, but arrives at 12:40, it’s hard to miss Just don’t try to pay with 20 euro or the driver will be pissed Mornings in Arenzana (de abajo) were always relaxed Five sweet students came every day Whether due to the hour or the weather, your responses were tacit And yes “relaxed” and “tacit” rhyme when said their way Suddenly students became more than double Ever taught a 3-year-old and a 12-year-old at the same time? Plus eight other students ages sprinkled within? It’s trouble I learned differentiation and basically became a mime One of my favorite stories: Free, unmarked wine handed the fence over without worries Wine country: I shouldn’t be surprised in these territories Afternoons in Camprovín captured my heart Five of you in one tiny room from 5 to 12-years-old I knew I loved you from the start Halfway through we got 3 new students who broke the mold Just months later it was back to the original five Upon my arrival, I had to be prepared You always greeted me with a great cry: “YORDAN!!!” Then sprinted at me – I was almost scared! But I love the hugs that followed – my day made that much better We played a lot of hangman and you guessed every letter Though sometimes you depended on your resident translator Tricio, it’s famous for its races — of snails! My first through third graders interrupted lessons: “In-jus-ticia — man-i-fest-ación” Whenever I left I heard the tales: While I was there they were messin’ But whenever I was away they wanted me back My fourth through sixth graders, my political activists: “Trump, or the other???” “Her name is Clinton” “So the other!!!” *thumbs up* Whose questions were almost like an attack But for English conversation, the questions were a catalyst The 3 through 5 year-olds were ever eager to dance and sing And while I’ll miss all of Tricio, here’s the thing In the local bar, coffee and tortilla de patata were king Huércanos, oh Huércanos you had me confused If I could give you an award It would be the most improved Your English skills always moved forward I liked recess at your school That is, until winter came then stayed the rest of the year I learned jump-rope songs, it was cool A first grader, always asking for more fruit, never insincere Most recently, thank you for the goodbye party Your goodbyes (in English) were even hearty I’m going to miss you fully, not just partly And, finally, Uruñuela – can you pronounce it? I can! I think… So many classes, my schedule barely fit More students too, we couldn’t even blink Here were the only students I saw weekly 3 through 5-year-olds who’s favorite feeling was “I’M HURT” Before throwing themselves onto the floor briefly I taught music here, basically without laws This school was always in a rush, nearly overrun Days ended before I felt they’d begun And before I knew it, the school year was done One school, seven villages “You’re going to have the MOST unique experience” Sometimes it took a lot of diligence Sometimes I just had to appreciate the difference The schedule taught me about plasticity Even so the hours sometimes made me fret We deal with occasional lack of electricity And far more commonly, a lack of internet I still, would always choose you, dear CRA of Najerilla The opposite of bourgeois One school, seven villages I would never change ya
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AuthorWelcome to the blog portion of my blog Archives
November 2018
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