The Spanish Classroom Pt. 2

My second-year students (12-13 year olds) are rowdy, and with this recent heat wave, they have been rowdier. Personally, I don´t remember being inside such rowdy classrooms except for my Latin class in high school which was pretty bad. I remember feeling bad for the teacher because of the amount of back-talkers that she had to deal with on a daily basis. Now I think about it and wish that I had said something to all those ignoramuses, but when I was in high school being non-confrontational -rather, "fitting-in"- was usually at the top of every student´s priority list. Surprisingly, my experience here in Spain has been a little bit different.

First of all, I have never seen students talk back to teachers as much as I have seen here (again, to be fair, I am only refering to my second-year students and one of my fourth year classes, so fortunately it is the minority). And what´s even more shocking is the back-and-forth bickering between them and two colleagues that I have witnessed. Its not that I never saw this during middle school, but the decibel level that comes out of their mouths is surprising. This might have to do with the fact that Spaniards are naturally loud speakers. I hear them everyday in the teacher´s lounge, bars, restaurants, supermarkets, etc. You might even think that two people were arguing with each other when they´re just having a conversation, so when they are actually arguing it is amazing. But what I find even more amazing are the times I have witnessed students talk down other students for disrupting the class and preventing others and particularly themselves from learning. I can count on my hand the amount of times that I have witnessed this in the U.S., but here it has happened quite a bit. When it happens I almost want to high-five or applaud the student for sticking up for me and my colleague. And the amusing thing is that the insult is usually piercingly eloquent. The other kid is usually so dumbfounded that he may answer back with a word or two but is shut down with a final coup de grâce. I´ll save the topic of insulting in Spanish for another day because it would just take too long here.

Arguably, one of the main causes of this rebelliousness is also one of the best aspects of Spanish teachers in my opinion: approachableness. If teachers in America are distant (I´m talking about grade school, remember) then teachers in Spain are approachable and close. I wish my teachers had been as approachable when I was in high school. In fact, I found many to be intimidating back then. Maybe it had to do with the fact that I was shy, but here I feel that even the shy ones are not afraid to talk to their teachers about anything. Unfortunately, the trouble-makers look at this quality and see it as an opportunity to walk all over you. It´s a shame because if they used it to their advantage they would actually pass the class. But, the root of the problem it seems is out of the teacher´s control: home. I remember hearing a colleague talk about how she sent a note with a student so that the parents could know about the child´s recent outburst in class. According to the student, the parents had laughed when they read it. "Oh, well now I know where the problem is coming from, " she answered back. I hear scenarios like this all the time among my colleagues. Apparently, parents are no long on the teacher´s side anymore. 

Anyway, I realize in the education world this is an issue that never ends, but the best we can do at this level is what a fellow auxiliar told me: "be friendly, not their friend". That sounds like good advice.

Hasta luego.

La vida sin música es un error

The last few weeks have been a whirlwind of emotions and experiences. I feel that I have been busier than normal at work, and the fact that I now have three private lessons a week (one of them being quite demanding) probably adds to this feeling of hussle-and-bussle during the week. Its better to be busy than have nothing to do at least. However, every now and then I like to take it easy and unwind a little bit. Music helps me do that. 

Ever since January I have been singing with the Complutense University Choir (Coro de La Universidad Complutense) every tuesday (surprise!)....... it has been a great way to recharge my batteries after a hectic week, or weekend. The practices have been a little rough lately but thats because we have been practicing for our major concert tomorrow. Its going to be awesome. First of all, let me say that what I like about this choir is that its like no other choir that I have been a part of before. We are a singing version of the United Nations; the first time in the choir´s existence according to the diretcor.  There are three Americans including me, two Germans, two Venezuelans, two Brits, one Pole, and one Icelander. The rest, of course, are Spaniards. And we are singing severals songs from each country, and in their respective languages! No lie. If you think Spanish is a hard language, try Polish. I didn´t even know that many consonants could fit in one word!! Icelandic, which I had always assumed to be an ugly language is actually one of the most beautiful-sounding languages I have ever heard. Fortunately, German comes to me somewhat easily because I had studied it briefly at UNCW and during my time with the UNCW Chamber Singers we would often sing in German. My favorite song is Afton Water, a Scottish folksong that sounds like a cross between Ralph Vaugh Williams and Simon and Garfunkel. Speaking about them, we are also singing Scarborough Fair. From America, interestingly enough, we are singing the classic and perhaps over-sung folksong Shenandoah, and the African-American spiritual I Want Jesus. I´ve been helping them with pronunciation although many sing English quite well. Singing tends to hide accents anyway.

Another thing I love about the group is that its a mix of all ages and walks of life. Students, teachers, professors, airline employees, metro maintenance workers, and the unemployed are among those who make up the group. Its given me a chance to meet and interact with Madrileños away from work and in another setting. Also, since many university students are among the members I´ve gotten to hear stories about university life here.

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-Switching gears a little bit, but still related, about two weeks ago I went to Granada again. I just can´t seem to get away from that city. The reason this time was mostly to do some reflecting about someone I cared about in the UNCW community who passed away on May 17th: Father Al Dash. I did some praying while I was there for his family and friends and the UNCW Catholic Campus Ministry together with my friend Erika who I mentioned in the last post. 

I was giving an English lesson that Thursday when Erika called me and I felt inclined to answer. Then I found out that Father Al had passed away. I was in shock because even though I knew that he had been ill and in and out of the hospital for sometime it never registered with me that he would go so soon. Instinct and impulse told me to take a bus to Granada the next day and after talking with Erika about it I did. I wanted to be with someone that had known him, and perhaps us talking about him might help us deal with his passing. Now that I think about this, it reminds me of that bible verse: Matthew 18:20 For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them. 

To be honest, I feel like I never knew him well -that everyone else knew him better than I did. But at the same time I feel like I did know him. He did many things for us at the CCM that didn´t require talking much. He invited us to break bread with him at mass and at community nights. And I was always amazed by how he would get up so early just to make breakfast for us whiny college students on Tuesday mornings. When I did hear him talk it was usually during mass when he would give really thought-provoking sermons about faith while addressing important current events concerning racial prejudice, immigration, environmentalism, etc. They were always more interesting than the sermons I heard at local Catholic churches and they were always delivered eloquently and with a sense of urgency; I loved that. Now, his musical taste was no doubt something to reckon with. Before mass he would always come and talk with the choir and comment on what song needed to be thrown out or left in. The Lord of the Dance was one of his favorites I remember. 

Maybe he was there in Granada with us? Who knows. While we were eating lunch a flamenco band started to play in the square right next to us. The music was captivating as flamenco usually is, but the scene became incredibly intense when all of a sudden one of the waiters, unable to hold out any longer, joined the band and start singing lead with a tray still in his hands. He had a harsh, vibrating voice that was filled with so much passion and emotion that it was overwhelming. And as I wasn´t seated close by, I only caught bits and pieces of what he was singing about, but it was without a doubt about the joys and sorrows of life. 

R.I.P. Father Al

Hasta luego.