Culture Shock at School

A funny thing happened at school the other day.  Well, for me it was funny.  Actually, it was more of a deer-in-headlights moment than funny.  For the kids and teachers, it was just life as usual.  Now, there are many, many differences in our two school systems.  Differences in curriculum and how the curriculum is delivered.  Differences in access to teaching materials.  Differences in teaching styles and methods.  Even, I've noticed, differences--fascinating differences--in the ways children play.  I acknowledge that things are not supposed to be the same in the two systems or else what's the point of my being here?  I'm observing the day-to-day differences and trying to overcome all the tough, fascinating, wonderous, aggravating, comical, bewildering problems that arise out of those differences.

But there are differences . . . and then there is just plain CULTURE SHOCK.  This was a culture shock moment.  Whereas American elementary schools have a P.E. teacher on staff, the school where I am teaching contracts with a company that supplies a P.E. teacher.  (I don't know how common this is among all schools.)  While the children are having P.E. one day a week with the young male P.E. teacher, I am having my planning time.  Last Monday was the kids' first P.E. class, and what I didn't know was that they change out of their uniforms into their gym clothes.  Well imagine my surprise when, upon returning to my classroom when P.E. was over, I opened the door and found 30 children--both boys and girls--in various stages of undress (mostly un), the P.E. teacher standing at the door hurrying them back into their uniforms.  The children were, of course, oblivious to any sense of awareness of one another--kind of like brothers and sisters.  But I was rather taken aback.  I can just hear Steele kiddos, if they heard this story, gasping a chorus of giggly "Ohhhhh's".

While I am trying to navigate my way through a quite different curriculum and attempting, in every way I know how, to "tame" 30 little wild six-year-olds (they are NOT going to beat me!!), I am finding such charm in them.  They call me "Miss".  As in "Miss, may I go to the toilet please?" and "Miss, is it almost dinner time?" and "Miss, So-and-so stole my rubber!"  And then there's the "register".  That means the attendance.  Twice each day we take attendance (or the register)--just like at Steele.  But here, as we are calling each name, we say, "Good morning (or good afternoon)."  And in the morning they respond with, "Good morning, Mrs. Montoya.  I'll have hot dinner, please" (or sandwiches or jacket potato--which is a baked potato).  From some of the children I get a "Bonjour, Madame."  And there is a before dinner (lunch) prayer--very sweet--and a prayer before going home.

We attend mass once a week.  Today was my second mass, and though I still feel like a fish out of water, I at least did not make the little faux pas I did last week.  At the end of the mass, children were walking up to the alter, hands posed in prayer, to receive the sacrament.  My T.A. told me that I needed to get in line as well and cross my arm over my heart.  Self consciously I made my way up to where the priest was and, doing what others before me were doing, I started to open my mouth so he could put the little wafer on my tongue.  But he just looked at me and made the sign of the cross, knowing full well that I wasn't Catholic.  Oops!  Not too embarrassing!

The staff at school continue to be helpful, supportive and just plain awesome.  Every morning Ken, the building manager, brings around a tray of hot coffees he's prepared just as people are coming to work.  I don't know how he times it just right, but he does.  Tuesday was my birthday, and although I hadn't told anyone (I truly forgot about it myself), they found out and put together an impromptu little birthday celebration in the teacher's lounge, and I am STILL getting flowers and cards from people three days later!  I'm having tea (dinner) at Carol's house tomorrow evening--my first time having curry.  (Indian food is big here.)  Carol's a hoot, by the way!  Plus, Karen is taking me to a little village or two in the Cotswolds in a couple of weeks.  I can't wait to experience quintisential England.  On Saturday Rachael's sister, Sarah and I are going to Birmingham, and I've been invited by Rachael's mom and dad to spend next weekend at their caravan on the coast of Wales.  Can't wait!  Wales!!

Carol has made my journey to work each morning a little easier by picking me up at the bus stop in Gornal Wood (isn't that a cool name?).  Now I only have to take one bus in the morning, which is much less stressful and saves me about 30 minutes.  The trip home, however, must be timed just right between the two buses.  The other day I missed my second one and it was going to be a whole 50 minutes before the next one and I didn't feel like standing out in the cold for that long so I hailed a taxi.  Fifteen minutes later and £8 (about $14) poorer, I was home.  I have noticed that it is getting dark a whole lot sooner, and I was told tonight that in another month or so, it will be totally dark by about 4:00 in the afternoon!  That means waiting for the bus in a questionable neighborhood in the dark.  Fun!  Today I caught the bus a little bit earlier only to find that it was crowded at that time, so I climbed up to the upper deck where I had to endure somebody's weird music, some weird conversations, and some pretty weird smells.  I do not heart the bus.

But I am digging funky England, and I look forward to exploring more of it!  Cheers!