Last week I was teaching my students vocabulary for physical descriptions of people. Lesson learned: Spaniards are not shy and do not sugar coat, especially when it comes to the human body.
Example 1: I was explaining the slight difference between skinny and slim (flaco y delgado). The other teacher decided to help me out. "For example," he said "Amy is slim, but she's not skinny." Twenty five pairs of eyes turned to me, looked me up and down, analyzed me from all angles. Maybe it's just me, but I don't think actual humans, present in the room, would be used as real life examples of body types in the U.S. We're a bit more sensitive.
Example 2: With their new vocabulary students had to write a description of a celebrity and the class had to guess who it was. I don't remember all the details nor the exact words, but want to take a guess who the red-headed, overweight singer was?
Maybe I'm a little worked up in Adele's defense because of this, but really? Look up at the drawing they had as an example for "overweight" and compare (contrast!) to Adele. Maybe it's my fault for not giving my students vocabulary for body types between slim and overweight (read: normal, average, beautiful), but I had no desire to argue with the student and draw any more attention to the debate.
Spain definitely doesn't take any shame in describing people, on both ends of the spectrum. Men can freely call other men handsome without accusations of being gay. When someone thinks you are good-looking, they generally tell you. This can be in the form of a coworker telling you you're especially guapa today, or random men on the street shouting at you as you walk by (aka piropos, but that's for another post). Here, it's just a part of life.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
On not drinking coffee
There´s one little reason why I can never be Spanish. Some would even say I´m not quite fully human. I don´t drink coffee.
It´s really quite simple. I don´t like the taste. Countless friends here and at home have insisted, "Here! Try this. There´s so much chocolate/cream/caramel/hazelnut/you-name-it in here you can´t even taste the coffee." I oblige, take a sip. Nope, all I can taste is the coffee.
I know it would be easy enough to acquire a taste for coffee. I could start with sugared down drinks and work my way up. But I have absolutely no desire to begin a potentially very addicting habit. I survive just fine without all that caffeine and sugar in my diet, and I keep a few extra euros in my pocket everyday. Here in Spain it´s not near as expensive as the $5-at-Starbucks-twice-a-day trend back home (a café con leche runs about 1.20€-ish).
Both in Spain and in the U.S., drinking coffee is a huge part of the culture. How many times have you heard, "Let´s go grab some coffee" as a euphemism for "Let´s go to some little place where we can sit and chat and also happen to have a drink in our hands." Okay, so maybe it only sounds like that to this non-caffeine addict. I so badly want to take part in this social activity. I want to hang out with my friends when they all meet up for coffee. Especially in Spain, this is an excellent way to while away the evening, or to stall until it becomes an acceptable time to eat dinner (never earlier than 9:00pm).
Luckily for me, there are alternatives that still allow me to take part in this coffee shop/cafetería tradition. Back home I have tea, iced tea, and my usual preference, cream-based frappuccinos. Here in Spain, it´s all about Cola Cao.
It's basically the Spanish version of Nesquik, readily available in any proper establishment. Do I feel like a child when a group is all ordering coffee and I chime in "Oh, and one Cola Cao!"? Yes, I definitely do. Do I care? No. I'll take awkward stares over drinking coffee any day.
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| Is this in my flat? Yes. Do I use it? No. |
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| Vocabulary that has not been added to my Spanish |
Both in Spain and in the U.S., drinking coffee is a huge part of the culture. How many times have you heard, "Let´s go grab some coffee" as a euphemism for "Let´s go to some little place where we can sit and chat and also happen to have a drink in our hands." Okay, so maybe it only sounds like that to this non-caffeine addict. I so badly want to take part in this social activity. I want to hang out with my friends when they all meet up for coffee. Especially in Spain, this is an excellent way to while away the evening, or to stall until it becomes an acceptable time to eat dinner (never earlier than 9:00pm).
Luckily for me, there are alternatives that still allow me to take part in this coffee shop/cafetería tradition. Back home I have tea, iced tea, and my usual preference, cream-based frappuccinos. Here in Spain, it´s all about Cola Cao.
It's basically the Spanish version of Nesquik, readily available in any proper establishment. Do I feel like a child when a group is all ordering coffee and I chime in "Oh, and one Cola Cao!"? Yes, I definitely do. Do I care? No. I'll take awkward stares over drinking coffee any day.
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| Although only a simple glass of Cola Cao, it will always taste better when your grandma makes it. |
Thursday, February 9, 2012
A little bit louder now
Spain is a loud country. No if's and's or but's about it. If you've ever been here you undoubtedly agree. If you want to be heard, you simply speak louder than anything and everyone around you. After a year and a half in Spain, I still sometimes have to remind myself that two people shouting at each other is not necessarily an argument. That's just a normal conversation, which is perfectly acceptable to have on the bus, at the supermarket, or in a restaurant.
What does that mean for classrooms in Spain? Definitely not this:
Spanish classrooms are quite like the rest of the country- loud and disorderly- at least in comparison to those in the United States. Obviously this isn't true of all of them, but based on my experience in two primary schools and that of my friends, it doesn't seem to be an unfair generalization. Working in schools here at first was a huge culture shock for me, and I spent quite a while wondering how, or if, anything was ever accomplished in schools. Students don't ask to leave their seats and are often wandering around the room. Interrupting someone because you have something to say is completely normal. And there is shouting. Lots of shouting. I feel like I spend half my class time trying to get my kids to shut up and listen. But just like everything in Spain, it's a bit different from what I'm used to, but it seems to work for them.
Case in point: last week a particularly soft spoken girl was beginning to read aloud from a book. It immediately became evident that there was just too much chitter chatter going on.
"Why are you all talking?!" my co-teacher demanded of the culprits, "Catherine is reading aloud and I can't hear her!"
"Well, she just needs to speak louder," a member of the guilty party explained matter-of-factually.
I literally burst out laughing because this comment illustrated the Spanish mentality perfectly. It wasn't her fault that she was talking out of turn, it was Catherine's for not being loud enough.
Oh Spain.
What does that mean for classrooms in Spain? Definitely not this:
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| Hand raising- a concept I've had to teach my students |
Case in point: last week a particularly soft spoken girl was beginning to read aloud from a book. It immediately became evident that there was just too much chitter chatter going on.
"Why are you all talking?!" my co-teacher demanded of the culprits, "Catherine is reading aloud and I can't hear her!"
"Well, she just needs to speak louder," a member of the guilty party explained matter-of-factually.
I literally burst out laughing because this comment illustrated the Spanish mentality perfectly. It wasn't her fault that she was talking out of turn, it was Catherine's for not being loud enough.
Oh Spain.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Adjusting to being unadjusted
A question I often get from friends when I'm back in California is if it feels weird to drive after having not driven for so long. Here in Spain, I walk or take buses or trains just about everywhere I go. But when I'm home, you bet I drive. Otherwise I'd never make it out of my parents' house.
After my semester in Italy, and being home for Christmas during my first year in Spain, driving felt like a whole new sensation. The power of the gas petal under my foot was invigorating, as if I was fifteen again and experiencing it for the first time. Flying down the freeway was a new joy. On the flip side, sitting in southern California traffic was a new nuisance.
However, the past couple times I've been home I noticed that driving felt different, in that it felt exactly the same. In fact, this past Christmas, I was ten minutes down the freeway on my way to a friend's house before I realized, "Hey, this is my first time driving in months!" It didn't feel like anything different. It was more of a "Oh, I'm driving again. Meh."
My only conclusion- I've become adjusted to being unadjusted. Whatever muscle memory is involved in driving a car, mine can apparently now be turned back on without me even realizing it. Whether that's a good or a bad thing is debatable, but I think it's indicative that bouncing back and forth between continents is normal for me. Such is my life.
However, coming up very soon on my to do list- learn to drive a manual transmission. Working on becoming more European by the day.
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| In Spain, my trips in cars look more like this |
However, the past couple times I've been home I noticed that driving felt different, in that it felt exactly the same. In fact, this past Christmas, I was ten minutes down the freeway on my way to a friend's house before I realized, "Hey, this is my first time driving in months!" It didn't feel like anything different. It was more of a "Oh, I'm driving again. Meh."
My only conclusion- I've become adjusted to being unadjusted. Whatever muscle memory is involved in driving a car, mine can apparently now be turned back on without me even realizing it. Whether that's a good or a bad thing is debatable, but I think it's indicative that bouncing back and forth between continents is normal for me. Such is my life.
However, coming up very soon on my to do list- learn to drive a manual transmission. Working on becoming more European by the day.
Monday, January 23, 2012
My little secret
I have a secret. Believe it or not, I speak Spanish. Not a surprise to you? Oh, well I guess it's not a secret I keep from everyone. In fact, this is a secret kept only from a specific group of 200 individuals- my students at the colegio. My school last year wasn't explicit about it, but this year I was clearly told on day one: in front of the students, I am not to utter a word of Spanish. As far as they're concerned, I know nothing but English.
This often creates some entertaining situations. A student will come to ask me to translate something, only for another to remind him, "¡Ella no habla español!" Duh. I stand there and smile, pretending to have no idea what they're saying.
For the most part, the fact that my kids think I only speak English is fantastic for their education. Since I started with these kids in October I have truly seen them develop in their communication skills. If they know that they can't revert back to Spanish to get their point across to me, it is much easier for me to encourage them to be innovative and think more critically about how to make themselves understood. When Carolina didn't know the word tangerine, she described it as a tiny orange. When Manuel wanted to tell me why his arm is in a cast, he used a combination of gestures, drawings, and the vocabulary fall, pain, and doctor to demonstrate exactly how he fell off a stair railing and landed on his arm, while I corrected his verbs to past tense. It's amazing to see what these kids are capable of (linguistically, that is, not breaking bones). They might not be using grammatically perfect sentences, and they might not know all the vocabulary for what they want to say, but they can get their point across, which in the end is what matters.
There are also some draw backs to not being able to speak to my students in their native language. The above examples of kids stepping outside the box are great, but it only really works for the more outgoing students. They are aware that they're making oodles of mistakes, but these particular ones have decided that's okay, they just want to participate in class and communicate with me. Unfortunately not everyone is that brave. As a language learner myself I can sympathize. You have to set aside your pride and put yourself out there, willing to makes mistakes and potentially embarrass yourself. For some students, this means recoiling into a shell and not talking to the English teacher at all, because the safety net of Spanish isn't there. For many, calling on them to read aloud is just about the worst punishment I can give them.
Keeping up this secret is sometime difficult. When there are no students around I speak to the other teachers in Spanish, and we sometimes find ourselves forgetting to switch to English when students come around. But what can be even more difficult is hiding my understanding when I'm surrounded by Spanish. I can't help the way I react to certain things, that I laugh at something funny, that I gasp at something shocking. A few students are slowly catching on to my secret, and some have even called me out.
"So you do speak Spanish!"
"No, no," my coworker assured the clever eleven year old, "Amy's just nodding her head and pretending like she understands."
One thing I've learned for certain, bilingual life is never boring.
This often creates some entertaining situations. A student will come to ask me to translate something, only for another to remind him, "¡Ella no habla español!" Duh. I stand there and smile, pretending to have no idea what they're saying.
For the most part, the fact that my kids think I only speak English is fantastic for their education. Since I started with these kids in October I have truly seen them develop in their communication skills. If they know that they can't revert back to Spanish to get their point across to me, it is much easier for me to encourage them to be innovative and think more critically about how to make themselves understood. When Carolina didn't know the word tangerine, she described it as a tiny orange. When Manuel wanted to tell me why his arm is in a cast, he used a combination of gestures, drawings, and the vocabulary fall, pain, and doctor to demonstrate exactly how he fell off a stair railing and landed on his arm, while I corrected his verbs to past tense. It's amazing to see what these kids are capable of (linguistically, that is, not breaking bones). They might not be using grammatically perfect sentences, and they might not know all the vocabulary for what they want to say, but they can get their point across, which in the end is what matters.
There are also some draw backs to not being able to speak to my students in their native language. The above examples of kids stepping outside the box are great, but it only really works for the more outgoing students. They are aware that they're making oodles of mistakes, but these particular ones have decided that's okay, they just want to participate in class and communicate with me. Unfortunately not everyone is that brave. As a language learner myself I can sympathize. You have to set aside your pride and put yourself out there, willing to makes mistakes and potentially embarrass yourself. For some students, this means recoiling into a shell and not talking to the English teacher at all, because the safety net of Spanish isn't there. For many, calling on them to read aloud is just about the worst punishment I can give them.
Keeping up this secret is sometime difficult. When there are no students around I speak to the other teachers in Spanish, and we sometimes find ourselves forgetting to switch to English when students come around. But what can be even more difficult is hiding my understanding when I'm surrounded by Spanish. I can't help the way I react to certain things, that I laugh at something funny, that I gasp at something shocking. A few students are slowly catching on to my secret, and some have even called me out.
"So you do speak Spanish!"
"No, no," my coworker assured the clever eleven year old, "Amy's just nodding her head and pretending like she understands."
One thing I've learned for certain, bilingual life is never boring.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
How not to eat a Reese's peanut butter cup
A bit of advice: If you ever come across someone in your life who has never tasted peanut butter, never experienced the joy that is contained in a Reese's peanut butter cup, and you decide to enlighten them, make sure you tell them about the paper on the outside of the cup. You know, the dark brown one that looks an awful lot like chocolate?
On second thought, don't. It's pretty funny to watch.
Also, if you bring a two pound bag of Reese's back to Spain with you, get a gym pass to go with it.
On second thought, don't. It's pretty funny to watch.
Also, if you bring a two pound bag of Reese's back to Spain with you, get a gym pass to go with it.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
2011
This year was probably my best yet. It was the first, and hopefully not the last, that I spent more time outside the United States than in it. Nine of the twelve months living in Spain, ten countries visited, and twelve new stamps and one new visa in my passport. It was also my first full year keeping this blog. The themes of the year- Spain, traveling, teaching, and blogging- are all things I plan to keep up in the years to come.
Enjoy some of my favorite pictures from the year.
Enjoy some of my favorite pictures from the year.
| Málaga, January 2011 |
| Sierra de las Nieves (Ronda), February 2011 |
| Las Palmas de Gran Canaria, Canary Islands, February 2011 |
| Sierra Huétor, Granada, March 2011 |
| The Alhambra, Granada, March 2011 |
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| Buckingham Palace, London, April 2011 |
| Newcastle, April 2011 |
| Kelvingrove Park, Glasgow, April 2011 |
| Playa las Salinas, Ibiza, May 2011 |
| Antequera, May 2011 |
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| Paris, June 2011 |
| Salzburg, Austria, June 2011 |
| Amsterdam, June 2011 |
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| Disneyland, California, July 2011 |
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| Fiesta de la Cerveza, Málaga, October 2011 |
| Talamanca de Jarama (Madrid), November 2011 |
| Giant's Causeway, Northern Ireland, December 2011 |
| St. Patrick's Cathedral, Dublin, December 2011 |
Considering I saw all these things with my own two eyes this year, I'm pretty grateful for this life I live.
Happy 2012!
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