Wednesday, October 20, 2010

English Club Part 2



For me, it's three 12th grade boys. Roma, Grigore and Sasha. They actually cut time out of their chicken feeding to hangout with me every Monday afternoon. We meet at a bar, but they don't drink alcohol. If anything they drink juice and eat what I call “crunchy things”. They love that I call them this, but there is no English translation for the fish flavored flakes of dried bread we crunch on.


I don't have to create anything. I never have to tell them how to do things the correct way. They know far more about taking care of themselves and their families than I do. We talk about girls, and university and language and culture. I see weird things, these are the people I go to. They watch a new American movie (in English) or play a new computer game (they play World of Warcraft with Americans and learn words like “moron” and whip them out at the weirdest times!), they ask me about it.


Yesterday we compared violence in movies. They have never heard of A Clockwork Orange or Full Metal Jacket and were sincerely disturbed when I described what they were about. They asked why I would ever let that into my life. They like movies like King Kong and Star Trek. Sasha is a particular fan of the Step Up trilogy. Grigore even thought Chicago was pretty cool.


They don't even tell me these things because I'm a girl. Last week they told me of a new system of code they'd developed. The key word is “sheep”. They call people they don't find intelligent or capable sheep. They call girls who do nothing but preen. They call boys who do nothing but drink and smoke sheep. I asked:


“Am I a sheep?”

“No! Of course not! We can talk to you like a normal human!”

“Are your girlfriends sheep?” (Roma's girlfriend and I are pretty good chums)

“No, we would not date them if they were.”


A boon of post communism is a weird sort of feminism, I guess for a lack of better terminology. Even though there are very specific Man Roles and Woman Roles in the home and in the town, this does not, somehow, mean they think women are dumber or anything. They just know that, in the words of one Volunteer Isaac Lutz “Girls just can't play sports as well!” And it has nothing to do with conversationalism or the ability to do math or play with computers.


They don't go easy on me because I'm their teacher. I defined the word “peer” for them (no equivalent apparently) and they thought I was their peer, but my partner Natalia was not. In class they are extremely vocal. To the point of exasperation. They speak so well that today's lessons on exhaustive suffixes was way beneath them. They were bursting with examples and other students didn't have a chance to speak. At first, of course I just say “yep! Good one” then “cool, let someone else have a go. Lumilla give me a word” and they start in on Ludmilla's hesitation (she's a notorious sheep) I have to forcibly tell them to shut up. When I say “shut up” though, they listen. So, I'm not a teacher, and not a peer. Its comfy and doesn't interfere with work. They certainly don't shield me from weird or bad or offensive things.


But these boys of the country, with yearnings to travel the world (Roma: America only. America all the way. Grigore: Egypt, Germany and America. Sasha: Manchester England and America) are sincerely gentle and considerate people.


I wonder if they have to be, all the raising of animals. Do you grow a deeper appreciation helpless things when you are dependent upon raising and treating them well?


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