един ден: One Day

The alarm clock sounds. 6:50. Today I won't be late for school I hate being late. 7:59 I'm greeted by the kind old man who sits at the entrance of the school corralling the youngest students of the school. He attempts to get them to stop running. His attempts are futile. He says he will beat them tomorrow. Maybe he isn't as kind as I thought. 8:00. Leaving the oasis of calm to venture into the corridors of my school. It's immediately like stepping through the looking glass. I never understood why my colleagues would become so livid when students ask for them, knocking harshly on the door of the teacher's lounge. I do now. They are two separate worlds, one is a place of escape from the other. I sit there, mostly listening to gossip, the latest recipes, or the general frustrations that are common at this time of year. The corridor is a completely new world. Lord of the Flies springs to mind. "Hello Ms." One of my students. He has a black eye again. I wonder where he got it this time. He lives at the orphanage, but I think that's the least of his problems. He asks me to translate something for him. It's the letter "m". He asks me when I'm going to come back to the orphanage. I tell him I don't know. I turn to walk away as he's asking me something else, I pretend to not understand. I feel guilty for doing this but he frustrates me. I try to be patient because I know he doesn't understand respect and social cues , he was never taught and has never learned, but somedays I just can't. 8:05. I prepare myself for my most difficult class. I talk to their class teacher. He's a hoary, stout, man. A pensioner forced out of retirement. He will retire again after this year. He tells me that that they're stupid, that they're lazy. I wonder how many times he told them this before they started to believe him. I wonder how many times he will have to tell me this before I do. I'm greeted at the the door, by 26  rambunctious 6th graders. Good Morning. How are you? Do you have your homework? I say this every day. Repetition is key. I repeat repetition is key."Gosposho!! I have homework" He's the only one. I try and decipher what it is that he has pieced together. It was a fill in the blank activity. I'm not sure how he even found these words. I realize he filled in the blanks with the instructions from a previous assignment. I ask him to read the instructions in Bulgarian. He struggles. He can't. Unfortunately, and much to my dismay, this is not uncommon. I struggle. The room is so loud, too loud. I promised myself I wouldn't yell. I try to teach, they do everything they can not to learn. There's a birthday. I'm offered chocolate. He says something, the class laughs. I don't understand. I'm told he said "Take it my sweet little angel". My authority is continuously undermined. We continue. Tensions are mounting, I'm not sure why but from months of not understanding their words, I've come to understand their body language. Quicker than I can reach them they begin to fight. Unfortunately, and much to my dismay, this is not uncommon. They've learned I'm deceptively strong and as unrelenting as they are. I hold the larger one back, he fights because he can, the smaller one is wiping away tears, he fights because he has to. 8:45. Exhale after it feels like I've been holding my breathe for 45 minutes. 9:00, 10:00, 11:00, 12:00, 1:00...The classes are a blur. 2:45 I go up to the orphanage. We color or I help them with homework. They are so excited to see me, they are so excited to have someone notice them. It's exhausting but the good kind of exhausting. The "what I came to Bulgaria to do" exhausting. Make a quick get away during their snack time at 4:00. 5:00 I study Bulgarian. Once a tedious chore now keeps me sane. My tutor's family has made me their surrogate daughter. I think I'd forgotten what it was like to have someone care for you, have someone care about you. They make my days here worthwhile. We talk about work, we talk about school, we talk about anything. We talk. We watch Wheel of Fortune in Bulgarian. I'm excited because I can play. The beauty is that you just say letters. I can do that. We watch the news while we eat dinner as a family. I think my last family dinner was sometime in the early to mid 90s. 8:00 I return home satiated mentally and physically. I feel energized and recharged, not knowing if tomorrow will be better but at least still hoping that it will be. 

Обичате ли салам?

Obichate li salam? A question that I get often is "Do you love salami?" It's usually from the kid in the front row that still seems fascinated with the fact that he has an American teacher (even though he probably still thinks I'm from England). He is repulsed by the surfeit of produce that his grandmother grows in her garden  but loves kufte, kebabche, salam, and my personal favorite, universal meat. His mouth salivates just at the thought of these words and as quickly as I hear his arteries harden I also hear his little heart break when I utter three little words. I'm a vegetarian. He looks confused at first like he didn't understand what I said, then that look turns to incredulity. But...but Gosposho why? Where do I begin? There is hardly a paucity of reasons but I don't know what would make the most cogent argument for this wide-eyed carnivore. I start with, "I think it's environmentally responsible..."Before I can even finish that thought he is asking me if class is almost over. I jump to my next point. Well, Ashley (the other American in my town) is also a vegetarian. He responds Gosposho are all Americans vegetarians? Points for remembering that I'm American but obviously he has never been to this site. I come from the country that founded McDonald's, Burger King, KFC, Dunkin' Donuts, and the Bacon & Chicken Narwhal. I contemplate trying to explain the "what right do you have to kill a sentient being argument" as I look down at my sheepskin boots I figure being a hypocrite in addition to being a vegetarian would not garner me any support. After an oddly pleasant yet exasperating conversation everyone is rustling their papers and fidgeting in their seats waiting for me to say the magic word.....  "свободно" cvobodno, free, that will surely break the invisible chains I have on them. Finally I answer with the most simple straight forward and unarguable point that I can make "Because I don't like it". He laughs shakes his head and tells me I'm not normal. I don't mind. Maybe one day he'll change his mind and take some of this when I offer it. 

What I would say to my kids if I could

Alright Kids,
I know it has been a long year and I know you're tired but I need your help. Yes, me your teacher, needs your help. I know it's supposed to be the other way around but help me help you. Yes I know that was awkward and cliché but it's true. How can you do that? That's an excellent question. Let me tell you it's very easy. Listen. Not just to me but to each other.  Respect. I'm shocked that you still don't understand what this word means in English or  Български. You have grown up together, you see each other every day and you still think it's okay to throw around racial slurs and fight with each other. I'm sorry that you've been taught this but in my classroom I will not accept or allow this behavior. Respect my time. We only have 45 minutes (more like 40 since I always let you leave 5 minutes early), you won't starve to death, pee your pants, or go into severe nicotine withdrawal in that amount of time.  Be patient with me. I know it's not fair that I can really only speak English and that many of you were stuck with an absentee teacher last year if you even studied English at all. If I could speak perfect Bulgarian to you and help you understand I would, but in the mean time please forgive my solecisms and don't make me feel like a complete idiot for saying "homemade" instead of "homework". I do the same for you.  
We're in this together. Enough jabbering, let's  learn some English.  

It's funny because it's true.

The most aptly put statement on life in Bulgaria

"Our life is like the black and white part of an infomercial....Cut to a PCV saying 'There's got to be a better way."

...It's funny because it's true. P.S. Blessed be our regional/semi-regional friends