Gettin' Learned Up

8 January, 14

My youngest daughter, Katherine, slammed her bedroom door, stomped into the living room and shouted out, “I want to go HOME! I hate this place! I hate school! Why are you making me do this?!”

Back in August 2013, my wife and I moved to a very small community close to Murcia, Spain, with our two daughters, aged 12 and 14. With two school-aged kids, education is obviously a big deal for my family. We agonized over what and how to do that. We still worry about it, frankly. Neither of my girls knew any Spanish, which made us lean toward homeschooling as a way to reduce the stress of moving. When we got closer to making our decision to move, we learned from our Spanish friend, who is an administrator in the local school here, that homeschooling is not a viable option. That left us with entering the girls into the local school, which has a very good curriculum and a partially bilingual program. We were understandably apprehensive, but after careful consultation with our friend and several of the teachers, we came to believe that this really was a good route.

My girls are 12 and 14, and in the American equivalent of 7th and 9th grades, respectively. Those are not easy years to start a new school, if you live in America. Try it in a whole new culture and language. Fortunately, our daughters have made several good friends. The locals here have treated us all so kindly. We are minor celebrities in town, because we live in a very small community. It's not the typical expat destination, by any means. The teachers, for the most part, have embraced the concept as well. They readily agreed to provide tests in English, and the school is providing Spanish lessons, in lieu of some classes. The only area that is a little lacking is in translating the math word problems. Sometimes, they come out a little wacky. We are working with the math department to straighten that out, however.

The material they are covering is at least comparable, if not better than, what we have back in the States. Seventh grader is a tablet-only class. All their books, homework and study materials are virtual. Last night I helped Katherine complete a PowerPoint presentation about a field trip to a nature preserve. This morning I received an email from Elizabeth's Physics and Chemistry teacher. He searched for and found the same book he is using in class, but in an English version, so we now have an English e-book.

The first semester's grades came back much better than expected. Our oldest passed all her classes in the "B" to "C" range. Our youngest did the same, except for French class, where she is struggling. Yep, French class. We didn't have a choice on that, but learning yet another language is not a bad thing. On a recent vacation to Paris, she was so excited to order four croissants for the family. I really believe that she is going to master French over this next semester.

After returning from Christmas break, we are now entering the second semester of school. They just started back last week. We moved from North Carolina. As a backup plan, we established ourselves as an NC homeschool. That gives us the ability to administer end-of-grade tests, which can be used for USA grading purposes, relieving the pressure from our girls. They can focus on learning here in Spain, and not so much on performance. At the same time, we will have objective measurements for the college boards, which are just around the corner.

Last Friday and Monday, I held some teacher conferences, with mixed results. The first teacher, Santiago, gave me great hope. He was very sympathetic to my kids' situation and even took it upon himself to seek out another teacher to help explain. Katherine's science curriculum is in French, which definitely adds a layer of complexity to the subject. Santiago approached the Science teacher with some possible classroom modifications, such as allowing Katherine to use earbuds and listen to English science videos. The teacher readily agreed and then told us that she had an English language textbook to use as well. While I was very happy to know that, I was also a little dismayed that the teacher did not conceive of these two solutions on her own, four months ago. Oh well. Some people just cannot operate outside of the tight parameters we call normal, without a little assistance.

My last conference was with Katherine's French teacher, who has not exactly been her favorite person this year. Katherine is very sensitive to body language. She picks up on things that nobody else does. At times she over-amplifies what she sees, turning a mild correction into a harsh rebuke. Having said that, I am siding with her on this one. I don't like this teacher either! She carries herself with a withering, holier-than-thou demeanor, which really frosts my butt. NOBODY can be holier than me. We did have a good meeting, however, after I assured her about how hard Katherine is working every night. Even she agreed to help, so there is hope for humanity after all.

After she heard about my teacher meetings and how I agreed that the French teacher needed to take a long walk off a short pier, Katherine’s postured changed, as if a millstone had fallen off her shoulder. We understood. Since then, her attitude about school, and life as an expat teenager, has changed. My girls still miss home, but maybe, just maybe, they are starting to see this more as adventure than torture.

Teacher Strike!

23 October, 13

Spain is in the middle of La Crisis. It is all part of the worldwide financial meltdown that began way back in August, 2007. I remember visiting here in 2001, just prior to the conversion from the peseta to the Euro. There were big cranes all over the place, and buildings were popping up like mushrooms in the forest. I asked my friend, Antonio, what was going on, and he told me that people were laundering old money with construction projects.

Now many cranes are sitting idle all over the country. I suppose it is cheaper to leave them where they are than to dismantle and store them. Four or five of them dot the landscape in La Alberca, so we have not been immune to La Crisis, but it is pretty hard to find any other evidence.

Everybody we have met has a job, and many of them are quite good. We don't see beggars in the street. We don't see bread lines or riots. The first personal encounter we have had so far has just hit us this week.

Teachers are going on strike.

It seems the government has cut their pay over the last few years, in an effort to get the budget under control, and the teachers are fed up. The rage is welling up in their souls, and they must be heard.

In a show of solidarity, the high school students at IES Alquibla, where Elizabeth attends, staged a strike of their own. It was a stirring show of support for their beloved teachers, as the students decided not to show up for class. Of course Elizabeth was swept up by her passion for teachers and education in general. She begged us to allow her to go on strike as well.

How could she focus on her schoolwork, knowing these poor teachers were underpaid and overworked?

How could she sit in a classroom, the very site of this financial slavery?

"Give me fully compensated teachers, or give me death!"

Her fervor reached a fever pitch last night, when we informed her that she would have to attend school, even if all her friends decided to go to the park and have fun instead. Her heart ached for teacher equality. She pined for a fair and reasonable wage on behalf of her teachers. She pleaded for the opportunity to make a declaration of independence from government tyranny. But to no avail.

We made her go to school, reasoning that she needed every minute available to learn the language and get a little ahead on her studies. Going to school when nobody was there would afford her the opportunity to meet with her teachers one on one and get some good teaching from them.

Elizabeth was not happy. We were ruining her life. We were making her look uncool. Blah. Blah. Blah. Insert your own teenage girl angst-filled histrionics.

She went to school, a slave to the system.

At 9:30, I got a phone call from my friend, Julio, asking if I could pick up his daughter from school. Apparently, she was the only other student in her class, besides Elizabeth.

Revolution springs up in the strangest ways. The despots just never seem to see it coming, do they? I went to school and scooped up Che Guevara and Sam Adams, feeling the sting of my defeat at the hands of the proletariat.

Or so they thought. (Insert evil laughter)

I deposited Julia at her house. I don't have a dog in that fight.

Elizabeth and I walked home in silence. She defiant and me calculating. That's when I had a stroke of tyrannical genius. She wasn't going to school. School was coming to her.

We got home and immediately started working on math, the bane of Elizabeth's existence. Polynomials. Order of operations. Powers. And tomorrow, when the teachers are really striking, more of the same. Bwahahahahah!


I lost a battle. I will win the war.

Parent/Teacher Conferences

4 October, 13

As a kid, I dreaded Parent/Teacher Conferences. It was that time of year when I could be outed as a ill-behaving miscreant. The other time was the comment section of report cards. "Little Dan is a pleasure to work with in the classroom, bless his heart. He needs to focus in class and try to keep his hands to himself. If you see a sacapunta laying around, please return it to school, so all the other kids can have sharp pencils."

As a parent, I dread them for the same reason, but in the opposite direction. I don't want to hear how my precious little angels have been terrorizing their classmates. I don't want to know they are struggling in school. All I want to hear is how pleasant and smart they are and how they are basically living out the Boy Scout laws:

Trustworthy
Loyal
Helpful
Friendly
Courteous
Kind
Obedient
Cheerful
Thrifty
Brave
Clean
Reverent

I might have left a couple out, but I quit Boy Scouts before I made it to Eagle, so what do you expect?

So it was with great fear and trepidation that Susan and I headed into our first Parent/Teacher Conferences here in Spain.

The first hurdle was that they were in Spanish. Foreigners. You would think everybody would speak English here. I mean, come on! It's 2,000 freaking 13 already.

Honestly, we were expecting the teachers to say something along the lines of, "What were you thinking? Get these kids out of here!" What we got was, "Y'all are brave (their word was valiente)!  How can we help?" Man, that was a cup of cold water to a guy in the desert. In an institutional environment, it is sometimes easy to slip into "I don't care" mode. We all get there sometimes. These teachers, though, are gung-ho. They are willing to translate tests for the girls. They have allowed Elizabeth to carry a Samsung Tablet around, so she can use Google Translate and other tools. They are going to email us homework assignments. All our girls have to do is show up and work.

That is exactly what they have been doing, too. Katherine was counting to us in French the other day. Earth to us! We are in Spain, and Katherine is learning French. Elizabeth is texting her friends in Spainglish. We are struggling with math word problems, however. Google Translate is not always perfect. See for yourself:

Spanish
Gasto 1/10 de lo que tengo ahorrado en mi hucha; después, ingreso 1/15 de lo que me queda y aún me faltan 36€ para volver a tener la cantidad inicial. Cuál es el precio actual?

English
Spending 1/10 of what I have saved in my piggy bank, then income 1/15 of what I have left and I still have € 36 to regain the initial amount. What is the current price?

Even after we figured out what the problem was really saying, we still couldn't answer it. I called Kirk, and he did it in his head, while he was driving. Jerk.

So the next time you have a parent/teacher conference, whichever side you might be on, remember that at least you are both speaking English, even if you aren't speaking the same language.

One Month In

30 September, 13

Yesterday marked one month in Spain. It feels like one year. Since we arrived, we have done the following:

• Spent a week at the beach with Julio, Toñi, Julia and Alvaro. We needed that to unwind from the frenzy of moving.
• Spent a week in front of some government employee or other. I will be writing about waiting soon. You'll have to wait for it.
• Spent a week coordinating school and finding a place to live. Our time in Ikea is another post.
• Spent a week working through the kinks of school.

As I write this, I am amazed at how neat and tidy that looks, because in reality, it was more like a hockey game, and we were the puck.

School has been an up in the air question since Day One. Our original intent was to put them in the same school as Julia. It has a bilingual, really trilingual, track and a sturdy curriculum. Then we thought home-schooling would be great, because it would allow us the freedom to travel the rest of Europe. We got excited about that, but when we arrived, our friend in the school system told us that wouldn't fly in Spain. So we were back to public school, Instituto De Educación Secundaria (ies) Alquibla. 

When I attended the parent meeting for 7th graders, I learned that parents and school administrators are pretty much the same anywhere in the world. The administrators sit up front and talk a lot about nothing. Then the parents ask all the questions the administrators didn't think about. Then, "What about my little Juan? Why can't he..." "Well, Señora Lopez, your little Juan stole the sacapunta and destroyed a classroom with chili powder last year, so we don't think he would be a good fit for this class." Blah, blah, blah.

Katherine's class is using Samsung tablets. All of her assignments are virtual. I have to admit that I am pretty impressed so far. Her English teacher, however, speaks horrible English. Katherine almost asked her to just speak Spanish, as it would be easier to misunderstand. She even corrected Katherine's English one time, saying it was incorrect. I told Katherine to just give her the bird and smile next time. They don't use that sign here.

Elizabeth seems to be content with doing the minimum in her classes. She is relying on friends to tell her what is happening in class, and they normally respond with, "Nothing. You're good." I have made her start to translate her books into English, much to her chagrin.

Susan's back went out in Week 3. All the way out. Susan has an incredible pain tolerance. When she says she hurts, that would normally be dead for other people. She was weeping in agony from the pain and could get no relief from any position. We have been applying heat and ice, TENS machine and drugs to get it under control. We are also on our third set of mattresses. It is finally getting better.

Meanwhile, I am living the Life of Reilly. I have taken much of the cooking/cleaning/shopping duties, which is fine. I write in the mornings, shop during the day and ride bikes with friends in the afternoon. Totally unfair.

All of us have had Homesick Meltdowns somewhere along the line over the past month. Katherine, the cuddle in my lap child, wouldn't even look at me the other day. She was mad. Her big issue is that she is a perfectionist, and being here really screws that up. She is working so hard to get on top. She will make it and be better for it. Katherine is putting a headlock on this challenge, and I promise, Spain will tap out before it's over with. After her meltdown, we got back to cuddling again, too.

Elizabeth still won't tell me she loves me, except on my birthday, which was last week. It's her way of punishing me. She continues to be affectionate. We laugh and play, like always, but when I say, "I love you", she remembers that she is supposed to punish me. She has made many friends and seems to be adjusting well. As soon as she gets her mind right about work, she will soar in this environment.

Susan has been a little depressed, mainly because she has been imprisoned by pain. She can't really leave the house, because walking was out of the question. That is changing now, however. We spent a couple of hours in Ikea the other day, and she was OK for that. Susan will find her niche with a couple of ladies and begin to spread her special brand of love. If you are a friend of Susan's, you know exactly what I mean.

Meanwhile, I am living the Life of Reilly. My ultimate goal is to begin a Stop Hunger Now affiliate in Spain. I need to learn Spanish and identify some key leaders to get that started. I am well on my way in both departments. 

So, onto the next month. What in the world will that bring?

Irony

27 September, 13

My life is pretty ironic sometimes. It has a tendency to go the opposite way that I thought it would go, sort of like a bottle rocket, whose stick has been removed. The less I think, the more opposite the rocket's trajectory. You light it, throw it and hope for the best, which, when I was a kid, would be that it hits somebody else. We didn't have a whole lot of options for recreation in Hartsville. There's a blog in there somewhere...

Take Spanish for instance. I have had exactly two school years of formal training in Spanish. Actually that is not correct. I have had two school years, less a few weeks of suspension from school. Way back in high school, I really saw no need for something as useless and, frankly, stupid as a foreign language. Look to your left. Look to your right. If you live in America, we all speak English. Especially back in the 80's. I already shared with you how rare it was to spot a Yankee in my town. Foreigners from other countries were downright exotic. I remember we had one exchange student, a boy from Mexico. We thought it was the best thing since sliced bread to teach him bad words. He left after one semester. You just can't beat good raising.

So when the two rivers of my life, that being curiosity and rebellion, converged at Spanish class, I found ample opportunity to flood the banks of propriety and wreak havoc on the landscape. I feel sorry for those teachers. They had no idea what was coming, and they acted appropriately by kicking me out of the classroom so many times. One time, the teacher kicked me out at the beginning of class. I said, "What did I do wrong?" She replied, "Nothing, but I know you will, so get out."

My Spanish name was El Salvador, because of the war in that country at the time. In 10th grade, I just kind of spoke out of turn. Eleventh Grade was a breakout year for me. Louis Cook and I turned the classroom into a freeform performance theater. He would stand on top of his desk, while the teacher was turned around. He never got in trouble, because his mama was the math teacher at school. I stole the sacapunta, or pencil sharpener, off the wall. The teacher knew I did it, but she couldn't prove it, so every time somebody would say they needed to use the sacapunta, she would tell them to borrow it from me.

One day, we had a fiesta and the class cooked some South American dishes to eat outside. A real treat. Well, the teacher saw fit to take punitive action against me by not allowing me to go outside. I was left all by myself in the room. Curiosity and rebellion began raging against the sides. Chili powder found its way into my view. In a moment of culinary inspiration, I sprinkled it around the entire perimeter of the classroom, and the bell rang for the next class. The next class met outside as well, because they couldn't breathe inside.

After one suspension, I met with the principal and my mama. He asked me whether I could now behave in that class, to which I replied, "No, I don't think so." Incorrigible.

Now I am in Spain. My Spanish grammar is atrocious. On one trip to Nicaragua with Stop Hunger Now, we had a translator. When I would speak Spanish, he would translate my Spanish into Spanish. It's that bad.

I wasn't ready to learn. I did not have a proper perspective. I lived my whole life, to that point, deep within a canyon, and I could not see above the walls. Once I emerged from the canyon, then I realized how foolish I had been to not take advantage of such an incredible opportunity. Now I am trying to lift my kids out of their respective canyons to give them a better view of the world. Hopefully they will grasp a root at the edge and pull themselves the rest of the way out. The vistas are incredible.