School

Despite my being quiet on the interwebs these last couple of weeks. I have been quite busy. I've finally started to feel like I'm settling into my classes and apartment, and now I'm on a plane leaving. Ha! Ain't it the way.

In any case, my classes are still ridiculous. My girls are wild, silly, frustrating, tyrants, but shoot, they're cute at least ten percent of the time. Which isn't much, but it's an ego trip way they tackle each other so they can hold my hand at the front of the line. Yeah, I'm pretty popular, and apparently pretty boring as evidenced here by this first grader:
We learned the names of our face bits. Once I taught the girls the Hokey Pokey, they like to include putting not only our right hands in, but also our noses, chins, mouths, and eyes. I'm still working on shakin' my ears all about.



We had S day for phonetics. Together we made snails, snakes, suns, and spiders. Check out their handy work:


I requested to get some boxes to organize our classroom supplies. A place for the pencils, erasers, glue, scissors, you get the idea. I was expecting some plastic tupperware style containers, but that's about the furtherest thing from what I received. This is Emiratie style right here folks:


Note the poem:

Sad love, it breaks my heart. I thought about covering it. But I think it might encourage the girls to learn English.

Tour de Zayed: Dig my New Digs

Buckle your seat beats folks! I'm taking you on the whirl wind tour of my new home: Madinet Zayed.

Known to locals as Bida Zayed, it has it charms: desert, dunes, and camel farms hanging outside the city proper. But the attractions inside the city are on the list for today, and all the crazy times will keep you busy. For instance, Al Dharfar Co-Operative Society. I buy my peanut butter here.

And right across the street (and I do mean the street cuz there is only one main thoroughfare) I can get my money at National Bank of Abu Dhabi, aka NBAD, which is just a sweet acronym.

Neighboring the bank is the town clinic. Which also houses the fish market....I haven't figured that one out yet, but supposedly they carry a very fresh selection of prawns.

All that green stuff is maintained quite nicely by a host of immigrant workers. They work from about 4am break at about noon, then sit out until 8pm when they have at it again until 11 or 12. If someone doesn't water and plant, then the landscape is a little more like this:
And yes, that's fog.

Despite the lack of landscape interest, the sunrises are particularly beautiful. This really doesn't capture the sense of color or beauty the sun brings at 6:30am, but check it out all the same...

It's so refreshing to see the sun rise from the start. In New York I didn't get a glimpse until noon.

And on the flip side, sunset.

Next up, my school courtyard where the girls run crazy during snack break.

The black stone thingy in the foreground has a ton of sand in it. The workers spent about three days refinishing the stone work and then loading sand in it. They've been like that for about three weeks. It's been promised that there'll be plantings, but eh, sway sway as the locals say, "little, little!" Work happens in due time, if at all.

And my classroom where the girls run crazy during instruction time.

Note the bulletin board header in the background, "Look what we did!" Yes, that space is blank beneath it...eh, teaching and learning are not exactly happening all the time. It's mostly just classroom management, "Sit down! SIT DOWN! SIT DOWN NOOOOOOW!" I'm finding my big teacher voice more quickly than I'd like. Little steps.

Coming Along

Excitement of the day: I was the classroom hero because I caught the little lizard that leap from my bag. I think it wanted to know what that delicious American peanut was all about and had been hanging out just trying to get a taste of it. I didn't see any miniscule teeth marks on my pb lid, but hey, I bet its' tongue is pretty fierce combat, and busted that gecko up!

Lemme just say that despite my miraculous feat, I get no respect from those girls. Up until the they set foot in school (most not until the age of 6) they've had no discipline. I mean zero. They do what they want when they want and they want to keep it that way. The parents don't seem to care, and the nannies don't want to lose their job, so they don't say anything. I'm totally the bad guy now, because everything is "No! Sit down! Stop! Listen!" I feel absolutely wretched: for the first time in all my three(!) years of teaching, I raised my voice to a kid. And it wasn't just once, I was at the top of my threshold of patience and puttin' up with x y and zed all day long. Eh, nasty stuff.

Nonetheless, there were some highlights during the day. For instance, I got the girls rolling on some fun activities that they seemed to go for. Like reading books with me, mimicking movements and naming colors. Tomorrow we're going to do shapes, I'm hoping that they can figure out what a triangle is if I flip a right triangle on its side. Such anticipation as the adventure continues!!

In other news, I'm in my apartment, yay! Granted I am camping out on my lovely thermarest until my bed gets here (two weeks more!), but it feels good not to be shlepping my two years of baggage from five star hotel to four star back to five. Life gets rough without one's kitchen, and that beautiful breakfast buffet was doing a number on my hips... ha! I'm happy, and I'm working on settling in.

Teacher! Finsihed!

First Day of School

Well it was really the third, but it was the first with students, so I'll take it as the first day.

I'm trying to remember my first day of 2nd grade... I was living in the Florida Keys with my family. My brothers and I took the super sneaky backway (trudging through neighbors hydranga brushes primarily) to get to our bus stop. I had on my favorite hooded sweater, this nasty army paint shirt my mom used to wear. I thought that I was going to be teased on the bus because I wore glasses, but I wasn't. HOwever, someone could have told me that is wasn't cool to wear my glasses' sport band over my shoulder. It really wasn't fancy.

In any case, I got to my class, and when roll was called, I didn't know what to do. So I stood up and walked over to my teacher's desk to ask her why she called me. She looked at me funny, and told just to say "here!" I felt dumb.

Today was my first day of second grade again. And it was rough. The girls were super unruly (it's not me, I swear!) and I had come short on my patience by the fourth hour. Luckily, I only had one more to go, and so I set us to the great task of coloring birds to decorate the class. The students have a horrible habit of raising their hands and shouting, "TEACHER! FINISHED!!" Which is my cue to come over, praise their beautiful choice of colors, and tell them what to do next. They have a hard time of just sitting still and waiting. I'm gonna have to get this kiddoes into shape.

So I stayed 6 hours after the final bell to plan for the next day. Although I was able to put up calendars, helpers chart, a behavior system, and a class promise....I hardly planned for the next day. Consequently, I think I'm just gonna drill on the rules, expected behavior, and if any one of them yells TEACHER FINISHED! I'm gonna take their clothespin off the green smiley and onto the yellow serious face. Then they'll know I mean business.

FINISHED!!

out West for the first time

Hi again! I'm still alive and doing well in the UAE. And I have BIG news: I worked!

For real!

Haha, just kidding. Well, not entirely. Here's the scoop.

I went to my school today! Yay! After a lovely and adventurous two hour bus ride from Abu Dhabi to Midanet Zayed (whur? google earth: Liwa and then look about 30 miles north, that's me), I was greeted by my advisor, Anne, and she took me round town and introduced me to my principal. I'm pumped to meet the people I'm going to be working with. Everyone has just been lovely. However, I'm sure many Westerns would think the same as I because the first half hour was just niceties. Even after that, we didn't "get down to business, nah, instead I sat, chatted, and stared at the timetable of the next eight months of my life.

My schedule is pretty demanding. I am going to be teaching 24 one-hour periods a week. Half are first grade, the other half second. Plus, I'm assigned a planning hour at the end of the week. And...well...but...actually, that's it! That's the extent of my work day. Let's do the math together class:
24x1+1=25
Good! So that's my work week. Five hours a day, Sunday through Thursday. And I get paid full time for it. Believe it or not, my skeptical American companions, I'm working double amount of many of the other teachers. So I'll be slaving away while they play table tennis, or drink coffee, or don't bother to come to work because their cousin is getting married next month. I am the new high standard folks. People are looking up to my example. Crazy I know.

Despite the light hours in class, I'm expecting that I'll actually be doing a lot and taking a lot of out of class time to prepare my classroom, create lessons, and make supports for the chil'rens. My school is pretty well equipped compared to most others. Al Drafrah can pride itself on furniture, like desks(!), for the students, a library with English books (appropriate for young Muslim girls, including the absence of any books showing boys and girls playing together, or aliens), there are computers (internets too!), a play area minus the play ground equipment, and somewhere in there, I think there are plans for smartboards for the fine staff.

My newly painted sky blue classroom will be cleaned this weekend and the furniture will be installed, as well as some bulletin boards. I'm really excited for the bulletin boards, especially I found out that I'll be able to take pictures of my students and post them in the school. For awhile I didn't think it would be allowed, but my principal Salama says that she likes this and it is, "No problem!"

From what I understand, there aren't any photocopies in place besides the ones purchased two years ago aren't very nice anymore. So the school just bought some new ones. However, there are several lovely women who are happy to make me coffee or tea should I like it. Apparently, if I make coffee for myself it would be very insulting because I would be stepping on the toes of their job.

So my work today, was really just a tour of my school, meeting my principal, and getting a disorientation about the whole gig. Oh, and after that, my advisor and her colleauges treated us to a terrific lunch at one of the teacher's villas. I think I'm going to have a lot of fun with these slightly-older-than-me-expat-ladies.

For now, I'm just waiting to move into my new apartment on Monday. I have the keys, just no furniture, and that's my job. I'm just gonna camp out there until I'm ready to get the work crew together to doll up my white walls in ridiculous colors. I dunno, I have too much creativity considering interior decorating, especially for a two bed, two bath, living rm/dining rm, and kitchen. That's more space than I've ever had, and it's gonna get crazy! Especially because out west where I'll be, there isn't a lotta life outside my apartment. So whatever I make of it, is what I get. And I'm doing my best to make it fantastic.

Finally, it almost goes without saying, I'm looking forward to meeting my students. School might start on Wednesday, but if the moon isn't quite right, we might hold off until next Sunday. Oh, the mysteries of the lunar calendar.

First of all, I made it to the UAE for those of you who didn't get the word that I am still alive. Better yet, I'm happy here and I'm really digging the place, my colleagues, and looking forward to more!

My Hotel: A Top Floor Room with a Majestic View

So what's going on. Well, it seems as though the government here in Abu Dhabi takes much better care of its employees than what I would expect in the US. Granted, the Navy did a fine job shipping my family around the world when I was a kid and has been taking care of my pop for quite some time, but let's face it, it hasn't been five star. But here, it's like, six.

My hotel, The Intercontinental, is ridiculous, and I'm excited every time the cheap-o taxi (most expensive ride was three bucks for about a 20 minute drive) drops me off at the front. I'm a little embarrassed that someone is there to open my door, greet me, wish me well, and then escort me to the revolving door. If I have a bag with me, that's the end of me carrying it because a porter delivers it to my room for me. Lovely stuff for my over weight suitcases.

Housekeeping comes every morning to straighten my shoes, arrange my cosmetics on the bathroom sink, and restock my tea station with extra peppermint tea because they know I like that one. In the evenings I have been delighted to find chocolates, bath salts, lavender pillow spray, and refreshing face masks on my pillow.


When I go to the pool, the temperature is a cool 29 degrees Celsius even though it should be bath water temperature in this hot sun, but it's controlled to stay refreshing. The gym has fantastic equipment (yes, I know this from experience, thank you very much), and a lovely view of the hotel's private harbor and white sand beach, which are delightful themselves. Breakfast takes the meaning of continental to a truer meaning than any other place I've been. Think of all the countries you've visited, and there is a selection of delicious food from that region. Pretty awesome, especially during Ramadan because their still serving food (even pork!).

Everything here is just gorgeous, lovely, beautiful. The lobby is decked out in marble and crystal, while the rooms are trimmed dark woods and luxury fabrics. I'm just amazed, and even though I don't know when I'm going to start work, I really can't find a reason to complain. So what do I have to say about all this royal treatment? Shoot, this is my first all-inclusive vacation on United Arab Emirates, and it doesn't take too much time to settle in with beautiful treatment like this. I don't know how long la vie est luxe, but for now, I like it.

And I'm Off! (But I'm Leaving All My Stuff Here for You)

Dear Fam and Friends,

In case my mother or facebook didn't give you the heads up, I'm on my way to Abu Dhabi! The UAE is calling me to teach and has offered me a position as a public school instructor. Last year the Abu Dhabi Ministry of Education (ADEC) declared that all first and second graders will receive instruction in English for al their core classes. This top down approach has led to the hiring of about 400 native English speaking elementary school teachers from all over the world, and I'm one of the lucky crowd! The beginning of September will be the start of my two years in Al Ain teaching Emiratee girls English, Math, and Science; I really couldn't be more psyched to start.

I'm incredibly excited to be experiencing the Middle East as a teacher in Abu Dhabi. I think the international mindset of the UAE is a great channel for me to ease into the culture and Culture of the Muslim world, as well as witness the rapid growth of this booming nation. Yes, it's going to be incredibly different from any other place I've visited so far in my few travels, but that's part of the reason why I want to go. Furthermore, I think it's going to be a terrific challenge to be on a team of founding teachers forming the new educational program. I'm hoping that my training will give me the know-how and guts needed to start up this pilot program. Furthermore, as I am new to teaching myself, I'm going to rely that my lack of rigid standards will allow me the flexibility necessary to try out novel tactics to instruction and developing curriculum. The job itself is going to be a fantastic adventure!

Alongside this news, I'm sorting through my small pile of worldly goods. You are welcome to anything I'm not taking with me or setting aside for storage. Also, if you happened to give me any of these fine treasures, please let me know if you'd prefer me to return them to you! Read on below if you'd like to know what's up for grabs; if any of it appeals, please just let me know to put your name on it.

Thank you all for your encouragement, advice, and lovin' over my last couple of years of teaching training here in NYC. I couldn't have done it without you and I appreciate all your effort to make my budding aspirations bloom into a reality. You are welcome to join me through my trials and adventures in the classroom and in the MIddle East through my to-be-irregularly-updated travel blog at bloopbloopblipbloop.blogspot.com

Take care,

Frances
_______ =^..^= __________

Here it is! My stuff that I can't fit into my suitcase and my mom can't keep in her garage until my emanate return.

From my garage:
My faithful 1994 Honda Civic: very reliable, very beat up, very loved
a Huffy mountain bike
a blue cooler
a two-man tent
extension cords galore
random tools
milkcrates, great for storage

From my bedroom:
a full sized bed with a gentle dip in the middle (boxspring, mattress, and stand)
pillows in various stages of squished and squishy
throw pillows all handsewn and down-stuffed
two large drawers
many table lamps (i'll even give you the bulbs)
a pretty red throw rug with white tasels
a couple of nightstands
a pretty oval mirror in a decorative gold frame
bedside alarm clock
a great laundry basket, tall with striped cloth liner

From my living room:
a window unit style AC
a couple of freestanding coat racks
over the door style coat racks
well behaved water frogs, tiny aquarium, and food pellets
well behaved house plants with various light source needs
a much slept and sat on futon with rather attractive arm rests
a well-worn throw carpet with some happy wine stains
picture frames

From my office:
a secretarial desk with one long drawer
a faux-leather desk chair, very studious looking
a bookcase of solid wood with five sturdy shelves
a Wi-Fi router with tons of cable and stuff
books! cookbooks, fiction, and some random stuff
CDs, loads and loads and loads, all in alphabetical order

From my kitchen:
A few plates, a few mis-matched wine glasses, some mugs
a microwave and toaster that are starting to lose their pep but still gets the job done
kitchen chairs in need of fresh seat covers
Swiffer mop thingy

From my boudoir:
vintage clothes, shoes, and costume jewelry
purses, totes, and hand bags
oodles of beauty supplies
costume supplies (face paint, and fun things to wear)
posters
linens (towels and full-sized bed sheets)
blankets
curtains, some in pairs, all homemade with love

From my craft box:
a plastic tower of pull out drawers with skinny and deep storage
loads of colored paper, like random printed materials for collage
glitter!
water colors, acrylic paints, and house paints
a variety of paint brushes
fabric scraps
charcoals
yarn, knitting needles

There will probably be more as I pack and pile everything. It'd be nice to get a couple of bucks for my junk, but for the most part, just come by and pick anything up in Brooklyn during the last week of August.

As Promised: Not Cake, but our Peruvian Named Willy

An Open Letter to Willy, the Best Guide Ever.

Dear Willy,

Remember when we first met, and Dan and I immediatly liked you? Yeah, I think it was your teeth, you have an awesome smile. Or maybe it was your voice, you have most sonorous pipes. No no, it was the way you are just easy going and definitly trust worthy. You were the best guide our (little) money could buy. }And that was the best thing for sure, you didn´t feel like a paid for companion, ho, ho! no hustler here!, you just fit into our company like a pro.

I find you to be a stellar example of your countrymen. Peruvians all groove with goodness: laughing hearts and hearty handshakes have convinced me of the human-ness that befits this culture. Have I ever met someone so humble and still so full of machismo? You wait on us at table, conceed to our tourist schedule, give in to our offers of alcohol, and blush at our compliments. Yet you hit on women with no avail, call us babies (jokingly) as we acsend mountain tops, and wear the same clothes for four days! Such duality intrigues me!

Thank you for leading the way as we pedaled up and down the unpaved mountain side of Cusco. I gotta say, that bike ride was amazing! I can´t belive how quickly we decended thousands of meters. I felt like we ravaged enough squawking country chickens, dirt dusty pigs, wool wrapped children to last a lifetime. Never have they seen such speed and agility on two wheels! Wee! Gnats in my eyes, wind in my ears, dust in my mouth, nothing has ever felt so fully fantastic with grimmy goodness!

Onto paths and byways, our boots and sneakers hit the rocky roads with certainity behind your led. From one Peruvian tourist to another, I was awed at your certainly of direction. Tourism is graced with your knowledge of the hidden streets, goat paths, and sweet shortcuts. Plus you know everything! How high? How long? What is? What was? Even if you made it all up, it doesn´t matter, you convinced me!

Plus you promised us a monkey. Just one. And Martine was there, riding the back of a Peruvian women: You dubbed him our mascot. His little monkey fingers were so curious and felt like little rubber vices around our arms. And his teeth! They were so jarring to my ear! Ah! BE WARNED OF BITING MONKEYS! But he was so cute, just a baby, aww, nibble my ear and have half my Snickers, it´s okay!

More trekking showed us our best day: face paint with orange berries and frisbee in natural hot springs. It felt soooo good to get the day off our skin and our pack´s weight off our backs. Geez, what´s better than sipping cold beer in hot water after a sweaty day of climbing, clamoring, and chugging? Nothing! Well, except dinner, that was pretty good.

Up next, a bus ride to hurry us to Aquas Calitanas; a faked passport number to cross the bridge, and a steep ascend to view Machu Picchu from a neighboring mountain. I wish you could have gone with us to Machu Picchu. We really wanted you to, especially after we met our ¨specialized¨guide, Ricado. No candor, no wit, just a canned exposé on one of the Wonders of the World. He was a jerk, I didn´t like him, Dan didn´t dig him, so we dashed for the heights of Huanu Picchu. Higher than the day before, my legs ached a little, but not as much, as we steped up ancient pathways to view the miraculous city of 1532.

Willy, you promised that climb to be more trechorous than the one before. Perhaps I was just so scared of the oncoming pain, that I just didn´t feel it because I psyched myself out. Or maybe I got stronger over the night! Or maybe, does it mean you´ve never actually climbed Hauno Picchu. It´s a trip for the body as well as the pocket. It´s expensive to get there, and you don´t get a discount. It´s 45 bucks no matter which way you nationality slices it. I love you country. It´s poor, I´m rich. I´m sorry, I feel bad. Am I keeping you from your nation´s treasures because of my seeming affluency? Ah Christo, I´d sponser you to see such a majestic treasure!

I was disheartened to say goodbye. Man, you are a great guy. Let´s meet again, okay? Really, I meant it when I said to come visit me in New York. We can trek the crazyness of Manhattan on sidewalks; scale the heights of its towers via elevators; and eat the really expensive street food!

Willy you are the master mechanic of bikes (you fixed my snagged derailed, no sweat!), sage leader of Incan trails (we never got lost on any foot path!) and great forger of fruit (I didn´t know oranges, mandrians, mangos, pineapples, paypaas, and cocoa grew in such abundance!), and by the end, you were our friend. Certainly a gem in any Incan trove, your kind nature has compelled me to savor this country a little longer. So I´ll stay!

Besoes,

Frances, the American girl whose name sounds like a country you´ve never been to.

Heepee Beerf Dee JeffLee!

Jeffrery Lee is born today!
Hoorah hooray hooray!

Icecream or cake for our Mr. Lee?
I say bring both, if it´s chocolately.

And how many candles a top such a confection?
I think it´s getting to be too many to mention.

No matter, JeffreryLee super great.
I hope his b'day is first rate!

(This is a silly and very bad poem, please request to read Dan Davy´s for an example of an excellent effort of witty verse).

Answers to above questions:
1. There is no cake or icecream, yes, it is a sad day. Have heart though! Jeffrery is promised to have a birthday cake when I get back to NYC. Sarah Hocevar has promised to create such a delicious treat in our honors, but mostly mine).

2. Jeffrery is 26. You´d have to buy at least two packs of birthday candles to deck his non-existant cake. Or you can cheat and just buy the numbers 6 and 2, in that order. But I´m pretty sure the wax doesn´t taste as good as the Orginial Birthday Candles when you lick the frosting off.

Who says the introduction has to come first?

Well, you´re English teacher was wrong. And that includes me if you were ever in my Brooklyn classroom.

In any case, I used to have this other travel blog that went sideways by biways long ago, years in fact. So this is my next endeavor to be maintained for the rest of this summer trip down in Peru. Check it out, but not too often, because I can only be accountable about two weekly.

Soon: Some pictures of cool stuff I´ve seen and really silly things that I do.
Also upcoming: The Great Trek and a Peruvian Named Willy

Booyah! And enjoy.

Wrigglely Jelly Stuff Drink

¿Que tal? What´s the dish? ¿Que passe? Well, lots and little. I´ve discovered that the fantastic heart of Peruvians beats loudly in Arequipa. I really had a fantastic time there and I made some discoveries outside of the regular tourist circuit.

Among these, I´ve found that one of the nicest things about Peru is that you can eat, all the time, anywhere. The locals make it easy as there is an infinite amount of street food, most of which I cannot identify, nor do I try to. I see people crowding around a hot cart on the sidewalk, so I mossie up, and order whatever the person in front of me ordered, and I ask questions later. This is how I got addicted to the weirdest drink in the world, for seriously. Despite it being my cultural favorite, I do not know the name of, so I will dub it Wrigglely Jelly Stuff Drink, and I shall also say that it is a surprise for the tongue.

The efforts that it takes to make this drink is astonishing, and I´d like to ask the glove clad server if she has a degree in mixology. First, a short glass is dunked into a hot water basin which "cleans" it. Then a series of syrups are added, I only know the color order, not the substance: murky yellow, current red, cloudy white. The last one pours a little slower and makes a bit of a gloop bloop sound as it churns it way out of the bottle and into my glass. Next, the cover is lifted from a steaming pot boiling a mixture of good smelling herbs. The clearish brown tea (?) is ladeled into my syrupy concoction, and the passed from shaker to glass, shaker to glass to mix it up. The swill of liquids is handed to me and I tip it down my throat. AH! It´s like hot gelitan, WEIRD! Think of trying to drink melted jello, that tastes like Celestral Seasons, and try not to barf. Then, it gets good, cuz you get used to it, and ya kinda like it, a lot.

Now, unlike most sidewalk food and drink stands, this one is a bit different because you´re obliged to stay because you have the property of the propriotor in your hand. That glass, remember! But I really dig just standing around the cart, listening to pretty words, people teasing little kids, and probably making fun of me for being a non-articulate gringo. After handing back my glass my insides are coated with some gelatinous gloop that was delicious and I have a hot and happy tummy for the rest of the night!

No Matter How You Say It, Yo La Tango

All it´s taken was about two weeks in Peru and I´ve basically crushed the mortal soul of every French speaker in the universe through my misappropriation of their glorious tounge and managled it with International English into a concoction only to be called Spenchish. I have really great success with my efforts: I can order a variety of food stuff, like guinea pig or coffee with milk. I can also ask how much something costs, like a llama. If I really try, I can expertly haggle down prices of groceries, cab rides, alpaca wool stuffs, and hostel dormitory rates I can usually get the price I want too, haha! (After my bout with those fearsome old ladies in Morocco, I forever revenge the 40 euro henna art on my arm that should have only cost five! Oh you bewitching thives, you´ve taught me such wise lessons!!) I will make the exception in price however when the thing I want will cost me 16 soles, which is a tricky number, and I can´t remember it, so I just ask for 15, that´s closer to its French cousin.

Luckily for me, Dan Davy caught up with me in Arequipa down south in Peru, and has down a finer job than I gracing our hosts, waiters, guides, dealers, and friends with converstion. Charming and ridiculous, Dada has won many hearts in our company, and hopefully his jokes about shampoo and dragons never get old, and we´ll continue to have happy Peruvians around us. Lalalalala!