Stuck in flux

the year 2014...a ticking anomaly

Either from the height of arrogance or the depths of my own desperation I begin, dear reader, with a quote from my own journal: "I want to stop thinking of my time in the Dominican Republic as some sort of expendable commodity, a year bracketed off from the rest of my life where the normal rules don't apply." In the narrative arc we all try to make of our own lives, my year 2014 appears with a big red asterisk. (Like this --------------->)
Living as if the normal rules don't apply might sound liberating at first: take risks! Love more deeply! Embark on adventures! Carpe diem and all that. And, in part, this liberating aspect of "anything goes" has been true of my Dominican experience. I have made faster friendships here than is typical of my reserved, skeptical self. (A task made easy when casual conversation with Dominicans can include literally anything: a male student of mine unabashedly told me of his troubles at home getting his wife pregnant due to a low sperm count). In following with the general warmth and closeness of Dominican culture I am now more liable to hug a stranger...and more liable to shed tears of joy and sadness.

The many-hued palate of my emotional experience

This year has
seen me run the full gamut of emotions, from intense loneliness and feelings of isolation, when I subscribe to the belief that no one cares about me, to prolonged states of happiness, where I move and speak more confidently and see the world and my surroundings as beautiful and harmonious. While such emotional disjunction is not atypical for me (I am prone to extremes) it seems more pronounced here in the Dominican Republic because I know that my time here is temporary. There was a period where I toyed with staying on another year--if only to have a chance to improve tremendously on my efforts as a first-year teacher--but I am going to turn 26 next year and that milestone, my friends, is when the shit hits the proverbial fan and I need to think about finding a real job with health benefits. (Not that teaching isn't a "real" job: I will fight passionately against anyone who argues the contrary.) Words like "responsibility", "self-sufficiency" and "settling down" have begun to dominate my conscious. And there is a sense of the fleeting, the temporary, about my life here. To provide just one example: I still live out of a suitcase. (There is no space in my bedroom for a closet). My wardrobe consists of teaching attire, plus two casual shirts and one dress. (first world problems) Breaking with what was a decently regular exercise routine in my "prior 'American' life", I have not gone for a run in more than three weeks with the varying paltry excuses that it's too hot, I'm too worn out, I'm too busy or (the worst!) I'll make up for it next year.

In summation, my time here has ranged from the good, to the bad, to the downright ugly. I relish the wisdom in my journal that I am capable of on my best days, and marvel at the maddeningly self-destructive behavior I am capable of on my worst. Does this make me "special" or "different"? Perhaps not. Sometimes I flatter myself into thinking that I, the intrepid intellectual, am in a different category from those who choose to stay "at home" and embrace the quotidian. But deep down I know I am, and have never stopped being, a normal, fallible member of the human race. Here I am, "stuck in flux" in a foreign country. On the one hand I am constantly gaining new insights, reshaping my sense of self and the world; on the other hand, I feel stranded, trapped by my own limitations and misgivings. Maybe I will come to reconcile these two feelings into a coherent whole, and maybe not. In spite of the highs and lows, I wouldn't trade in my experience for anything as I believe the attendant joys and challenges of living abroad have instilled in me a mental fortitude and resilience that will redound to my benefit in future years.

Thank you, dear reader, for sharing with me in these trials and tribulations and for wading through the muck of my most personal and vulnerable blog entry to date. I'll check back in soon!

Saludos,

~Kirsten

Doldrums and Drudgery

Hello faithful reader~

First of all, my apologies for being an unfaithful writer! It's hard to believe that over a month has gone by since my last post, and I am sure you are all waiting with bated breath for what I have to say next. Truth be told, my self-deprecating self doesn't think there is much worth saying. But then I had another thought: maybe, just maybe my friends and family will be interested in what I've been up to in spite of the fact that it only involves teaching, teaching, and more teaching. (Oh, and did I mention the teaching?!)

English grammar: it makes "perfect" sense!

While a normal school year in the United States is punctuated by several holidays and a generous summer break, I have been teaching for seven months and have two yet to go before Graduation Day.  My students and I are together in a small classroom for 20 hours a week, and I have come to know their idiosyncrasies (both lovable and odious) quite well. For example, there is the young woman who sits in the back and never finishes her homework yet manages to have a new, elaborate hairstyle every day. There is the pair in my morning class who refuse to admit that they are crushing on each other. There is the gentleman who, instead of merely saying "here" when I take attendance, says "present continuous", "present perfect" or (and I'm sure you all knew this verb tense existed) "present perfect continuous".

No matter what I do, some students understand and some don't.

There are the serial litterers, the sleepers, and the ones hopped up on caffeine. There are those who still have trouble with their a-e-i-o-us and those who can engage me in witty repartee. (For the record, I do know all of my students' real names. And ranks. And serial numbers.)

CONTRADICTIONS!

Teaching, for me, is a series of contradictions. The students' energy is both enlivening and exhausting. Adjusting my pedagogy on the fly to fit the "vibe" and address the strengths and weaknesses of each class is a source of pride, while planning lessons and grading are mundane, lonely tasks. Classes are four hours long but I still feel as if the program is sacrificing depth for breadth of knowledge. I vacillate between wanting more frequent contact (and assistance) from my supervisor and reveling in the freedom of my position. The air of authority I try to project in the classroom can be easily deflated by a well-aimed grammar question. I am poor in the pocketbook (earning less than $5 per classroom hour) but prosperous in linguistic knowledge. I am surrounded by warm and friendly people, yet stand alone.

At least this hasn't happened to me...yet.

This last point has probably been the hardest part of my Dominican journey. Since most of my students are around my age, I have found it difficult to toe the line between being friendly and being respectable. The great thinker Machiavelli once said that "it is better to be feared than to be loved." He was talking about princes and politics, but I wonder if his maxim might apply to teaching. Lately with my lassitude I have erred on the side of friendliness, which leads to disciplinary problems later as students think that "anything goes." If anyone knows the alchemy that makes it possible to be both feared AND loved as a teacher, please let me in on the secret!

I guess I'll begin and end this post with an apology. Sorry, dear reader, if I have bored you with my ramblings. Perhaps I've managed to be funny. Either way, here concludes the prolix musings of a rookie teacher.

Saludos until next time. Les suelto (I'm letting you go...)

~Kirsten