First week of School in Ayntap
I am in my PST (Pre-Service Training) in Armenia. Mornings are spent in language classes at the school in Ayntap with two amazing teachers, Anna Sahakyan and Arus Khcheyan. After lunch, we depart from Ayntap school and go to the Cultural Center in Nor Harbert. There we are learning about Armenian history, culture and current political situation. We are led by Stepan Shoyan and Artak Aloyan. This is to prepare us for our work as Community-Youth Development (CYD) volunteers. There are guest speakers from U.S. government agencies and various Non-Governmental Organizations (NGOs) from Armenia.
Every morning my host "Mom", Olga, insists that I sit down while she prepares coffee. It is strong coffee served in what we call demitasse cups. She brings out boiled eggs and bread or pastries and insists that I eat. I joke that the first three Armenian words I truly understand are Aree (Come here), Nesteer (sit down), Keer (eat). Those are of course phonetic spellings. Robert, my host "Dad" usually joins us after a morning cigarette on the back deck.
The first two mornings, Olga handed Robert the lunch she has made for me so he could walk me to school. Robert and I go to what we could call the mud room in America and remove our slippers and put on our shoes to head off to school. They were so nice to provide me with slippers when I arrived but my big American feet hang out of the back them by about an inch.
We stop at a home about three doors down and Mervyn, a fellow volunteer from America, joins us. He is living with the family in this home. Mervyn is from Ghana but has been in New York City for most of his life.It is probably a very interesting site for the Armenians to see a Black man and an old guy in a cowboy hat walking down their streets. We say "Barev Zez" which means good morning to everyone as we walk along. Many curious looks turn in to smiles and the return our Barev zez.
The road the homes we live in is a deeply rutted dirt road full of random large rocks. It is more like walking a mountain hiking path than what we think of as a city street in America. There are no sidewalks. Cars shift from side to side to get the least rutted travel pattern so if a car is coming, it is expected that pedestrians step aside to let the car pass.
We have to cross a very busy paved road to get to our school. There is a crosswalk next to the bus stop. There is usually a big crowd waiting to go to Yerevan. At first the people at the bus stop would stare at us as we stopped at the crosswalk. Now they tell us good morning, in Armenian of course. The traffic is terrible like most cities during rush hour. I was a bit nervous using the crosswalk but yesterday a taxi stopped and the driver actually smiled at us as we approached. He motioned to us to go. I am not sure if I ever saw a taxi driver in America act as such a gentleman.
Mervyn and I join our teammates in an old school built during the Soviet era of Armenia. It is nice to see such a large complex dedicated to the education of children. There is children's artwork all over the interior walls.
It is sad to me that the kids are on spring vacation right now. The inherent energy that kids bring to a school building is missing. It feels like my school back in America during teacher work week, the magic of the noise of children makes the place feel like an empty building. Next week the children will be here and I am looking forward to that. Our interactions with the kids will be limited but I am excited to be around children.
On our first day, we were delivered back to the school in Ayntap from Nor Harbert. There were kids hanging out at the soccer(football to them) field. We kicked their ball around a few times when it came our way and the kids just laughed. Robert was waiting for Mervyn and me and walked us home.
The second day, I had explained to Robert I could get to school and home without an escort. IT wasn't easy because of our language barriers but he understood at last. That afternoon, when we returned from Nor Harbert, the kids were waiting for us. They kicked the football at us daring us. We went up on their field. Wearing my black cowboy hat, I took the position of goalkeeper. All the neighbors walked over and started watching us play the kids. After several good blocks, on of the little Ayntap kids score on me. The whole neighborhood cheered like he had just won the World Cup. Then the kids and families cheered for us. I think our first part of integrating in to the culture had occurred.
Every morning my host "Mom", Olga, insists that I sit down while she prepares coffee. It is strong coffee served in what we call demitasse cups. She brings out boiled eggs and bread or pastries and insists that I eat. I joke that the first three Armenian words I truly understand are Aree (Come here), Nesteer (sit down), Keer (eat). Those are of course phonetic spellings. Robert, my host "Dad" usually joins us after a morning cigarette on the back deck.
The first two mornings, Olga handed Robert the lunch she has made for me so he could walk me to school. Robert and I go to what we could call the mud room in America and remove our slippers and put on our shoes to head off to school. They were so nice to provide me with slippers when I arrived but my big American feet hang out of the back them by about an inch.
We stop at a home about three doors down and Mervyn, a fellow volunteer from America, joins us. He is living with the family in this home. Mervyn is from Ghana but has been in New York City for most of his life.It is probably a very interesting site for the Armenians to see a Black man and an old guy in a cowboy hat walking down their streets. We say "Barev Zez" which means good morning to everyone as we walk along. Many curious looks turn in to smiles and the return our Barev zez.
The road the homes we live in is a deeply rutted dirt road full of random large rocks. It is more like walking a mountain hiking path than what we think of as a city street in America. There are no sidewalks. Cars shift from side to side to get the least rutted travel pattern so if a car is coming, it is expected that pedestrians step aside to let the car pass.
We have to cross a very busy paved road to get to our school. There is a crosswalk next to the bus stop. There is usually a big crowd waiting to go to Yerevan. At first the people at the bus stop would stare at us as we stopped at the crosswalk. Now they tell us good morning, in Armenian of course. The traffic is terrible like most cities during rush hour. I was a bit nervous using the crosswalk but yesterday a taxi stopped and the driver actually smiled at us as we approached. He motioned to us to go. I am not sure if I ever saw a taxi driver in America act as such a gentleman.
Mervyn and I join our teammates in an old school built during the Soviet era of Armenia. It is nice to see such a large complex dedicated to the education of children. There is children's artwork all over the interior walls.
It is sad to me that the kids are on spring vacation right now. The inherent energy that kids bring to a school building is missing. It feels like my school back in America during teacher work week, the magic of the noise of children makes the place feel like an empty building. Next week the children will be here and I am looking forward to that. Our interactions with the kids will be limited but I am excited to be around children.
On our first day, we were delivered back to the school in Ayntap from Nor Harbert. There were kids hanging out at the soccer(football to them) field. We kicked their ball around a few times when it came our way and the kids just laughed. Robert was waiting for Mervyn and me and walked us home.
The second day, I had explained to Robert I could get to school and home without an escort. IT wasn't easy because of our language barriers but he understood at last. That afternoon, when we returned from Nor Harbert, the kids were waiting for us. They kicked the football at us daring us. We went up on their field. Wearing my black cowboy hat, I took the position of goalkeeper. All the neighbors walked over and started watching us play the kids. After several good blocks, on of the little Ayntap kids score on me. The whole neighborhood cheered like he had just won the World Cup. Then the kids and families cheered for us. I think our first part of integrating in to the culture had occurred.
Comments
Post a Comment