The god of small things

Or the things of small gods. Or maybe small gods of things.

I'm not quite sure which one yet.

(but my postmaterialist self (thanks Malvi) is somewhat skeptical about the second two)--but this isn't going to be about the God of Small Things--saddelicious as it is by itself.

But the close of the semester has also been somewhat saddelicious--or maybe frusturatingdelicious, because it's brought to the surface a lot of the tensions I feel with a) assessment in general and assigning something as dynamic as person/their work and growth over the past 16 weeks with something as staticemotionless as a number (but then having to rationalize to them those impersonal numbers, and 'take ownership of them'), and b) the academic culture here, especially around assessment.

Today was, shall I say, hopefully me hitting rock bottom. And after almost starting to cry because a colleague really doesn't know how to read other people's emotions, and therefore didn't quite get the message that I was done with him lecturing me about how bad my albanian was, and how studying Albanian grammar was pointless (because we all have 'human grammar' so why try to learn the grammar of another language?. yeah. not the best conversation to have today, especially because Albanian grammar is not exactly intuitive, or predictable--at least to my novice eyes. and it's damn hard for me to learn through emersion without some sort of vague gramatical frame to throw my language-encounters up against).

Durres--not to confuse anyone.
Tetovo still doesn't have the sea

And this week has also just been a extended conversation with various people about how broken elements of the educational system are here--and how little people think they can do about it. how powerless we are--which to me also can imply the 'why bother resisting when they'll just find some other way to override you? so just play by their rules, however shitty they are and make the whole process shorter' attitude. and my consciousness, well, it hasn't been beaten just yet. and it won't shut up.

Durres

These issues--especially around academic cultural differences--are made even more 'real' by my growing realization that I will be here for (at least) another year. I signed a contract yesterday to teach 10th and 11th grade Social Studies (what!? teach the Russian Revolution? the age of enlightenment? the cold war!? imperialism? the 1960's? I can't wait) and 11th grade literature (suggestions welcome! the idea is to tie the literature into the social studies curriculum. which sounds super cool) at a local private school. After what feels like an eternity (but was really just a month. how does time feel so fastslowfastslow) of saying 'I will sign it,' 'I will sign it': it finally happened.

Which is thrilling.

But especially in light of these tensions I'm feeling around being engaged in the academic culture here, this also means that these problems aren't going anywhere fast because neither Tetovo nor I am up and leaving just yet, so we (you and I, Tetovo, you and I) are going to have to find a way to live in peace together.

Durres

But [Enter stage right: God of Small Things], going out, spending time with my thoughts and the whirl of my bicycle wheels, and the wildflowers, I realized that tensions or not, if I can only, just for one moment, pull my gaze up out of my gradebooks and e-mail, and really see. let the light, the boys throwing rocks into the river yelling after me 'but where are you from?', and backlit wheat into my brain, that's when this tension starts to be resolved on its own. because its easy to get lost in technology,  wrapped up in the impersonal rapidfire communication of end-of-year madness, overrun by the cold numbers we distill our students down to (and the ferocity and coldbloodndness with which they fight back (this week students have said 'oh. I can't do your required course work (second chance to pass the class) because I need to go dress shopping,' 'but teacher I tried. and that's what grades are for [wink wink]' 'but you're course is just an elective (so why should I have to work for a grade)? and, the kicker 'I signed up for a class with you [meaning my co-teacher] not Claire'--and after a week of hearing these things, I begin to question what, if anything, we accomplished in the past 16 weeks. or if it's really all about a number--and nothing more).

and that kills me. these are future teachers--what about love? what about curiosity? what about change? or hope? quest for knowledge? what is delicious, and what is our quest for it? we spent so much of the course identifying the specific problems the students felt they encountered in their own educations, and spoke with such passion about how these were the things that needed to change--and I know. it's hard to find this harmony between theory and your own daily practice--in any regard. change starting at home is never easy (speaking as a woman living in the Balkans this rings even truer). but where else can it start? how can I be both empathetic with them, and also push them to push themselves?

and from this place, yes.  it's true. I can forget about beauty, and just see the factories--spewing smog and graduating students. and trying to turn a profit.

and today--I think because I had hit this wall--I logged out and went to go find everything that I've been missing: smells, colors, flowers, honking horns, textures, grit, exhaust fumes, sheep herds, and all. and just be.

and somehow, this quietness of just drinking in what is around me, this is what keeps me sane. and keeps me rooted here. it's these small details that remind me, that yes, life is also beautiful. if we only let ourselves see it. let our selves live in it.


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