You can see it everywhere in Georgia. Plastic: bottles, bags, bowls, and trays. These things litter the streets, rivers, the beaches, and plants. It amazed me the first few weeks that I was here. I had never seen so much trash and plastic strewn about a place before. I couldn't go anywhere without seeing some random pile of crap. I thought it was odd considering how proud Georgians are of their country and the natural beauty of the landscape. They have a right to be proud. Between the mountains and seaside there are some amazing scenes of nature. It just doesn't seem to be a priority to take care of this amazing natural resource.
Where does all of this litter come from? Every transaction of exchanging goods for money includes a plastic bag. You buy a sweater at the market, you get a bag. You buy cookies at the bakery, you get a bag. You buy some Katchapuri for lunch, you get a bag. Plastic bags come in all sizes, colors, and thicknesses. Every situation is therefore covered by the perfect plastic bag. Perhaps this wouldn't be a problem if Georgians bought all their groceries and household items at the same place. There is no Baker's or Sentry grocery store in Poti. Instead, you go to one woman for potatoes another for garlic and yet another for some apples. Then you get oil and chicken at different place. Each place gives you at least one bag but sometimes more. In one afternoon, our household averages four bags. There are only three of us living here! The other problem is that you buy small quantities more often. Georgians do not stock up on Groceries or other items. They just buy it when they need it. This means more bags each month. These bags get thrown away, of course.
Garbage in general does not seem to be taken care of in the same way. There isn't a set day for taking the garbage out. A truck comes by every week, sometimes it's Monday, sometimes it Friday, sometimes it's both. There are also garbage cans on the streets. The wind blows all the garbage out, though. People then just drop trash on the ground rather than the bins. I don't know what the land fills are like, but they don't seem to be contained in anyway.
Now enter into the equation a young eco-conscious American. I carry a reusable bag with me everywhere, including across the globe to Georgia. When I go shopping, I'm always telling people that I do not want a bag. Most don't believe that they are understanding me right and give me a bag anyway. Some just laugh at me when I bring out my brightly colored bag (Thanks Kellie!) I've slowly in three months been able to teach a couple of the shops I go to on a regular basis that I do not want another plastic bag. Getting other Georgians to follow the trend has been another story all together. Therefore, if you are planning on coming to Georgia, please bring a reusable bag! We could do so much to help their awareness of their own polluting habits just by setting a good example. (If you want to do Teach and Learn with Georgia, email me any questions. I have extra resources that can help you understand the program and benefits!)
I feel like I'm being smothered by plastic here. I give credit for Georgians being resourceful and reusing many items. I just can't figure out why they can't find a solution for the overwhelming amount of plastic being used. Oh Georiga, you can do so much better!
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
"We have gathered here today to mourn our good English grades. . . "
(Who can name the person who said the quote of my title? It's a fellow East Troy alumni)
Today my 10th grade class had a test. This wasn't my first Georgian test. However, it was the first one not with my Difficult Teacher. I had thought that all my problems with test taking here were due to my communication and philosophy problems I have with my Difficult Teacher. That theory was proven wrong today, terribly wrong.
Classrooms are already fairly crowed. When you pack thirty students into a medium-sized classroom it becomes very difficult to spread them out during a test. The desks are crunched together. A certain amount of looking over shoulders is bound to happen just because of the limited space. Somehow, the classrooms seem even more crowed to me during a test. It is impossible to give students enough space so that they aren't staring at their neighbors test. The staring isn't subtle either. Students lean over the aisles to look at another test. Sometimes, they will even hold up their test for their friends to see.
Of course, this isn't the only way students cheat. The classroom is just as noisy during a test as it is during a regular lesson which by American standards is just about at the yelling level. Students ask each other for answers or talk about what they are going to do after school. It doesn't matter what they are saying or how loud they say it. It never crosses their mind to stop talking during an important exam.
Finally, two methods of cheating just about blew my mind. I asked the co-teacher before we started what her rules were. She said "No books, no notes, to be quiet, a regular test." When students couldn't be find inspiration for the writing section she had them get out their books. The rule basically meant nothing. Well, not nothing, I guess. I certainly enforced the rule and took three books away from students before I saw my co-teacher look right over another student who had his book out. More shocking was the instance of one boy physically handing his test book over to another boy to finish. At that point I didn't really care what the co-teacher did or didn't do. That was too blatant of cheating for me. I took both of their tests away before they had finished. It won't hurt their score much since they were already basically done. I wish it would have, though.
I discussed all the cheating with my co-teacher after the test. I can't understand how cheating could be allowed in any way. If the students don't understand a topic but cheat off someone who does know, how will the teacher know she needs to review the topic again. Tests are just as important for teachers as students. They help show where weaknesses are during instruction time. They help show whether the class is successfully navigating the year-long schedule to be prepared for the next year. My co-teacher just said, "They couldn't survive without cheating." Well, maybe it's about time they tried. I know that many of the students who were cheating are more than capable of being successful without help. They need to have the confidence to do that.
I know their are differences in the cultural mindset surrounding education for Georgians and Americans. This difference is just too much for me to bend for. I can't stand their and watch students and teachers rob themselves of a great opportunity to really asses their strengths and then improve. What to do, what to do?
Today my 10th grade class had a test. This wasn't my first Georgian test. However, it was the first one not with my Difficult Teacher. I had thought that all my problems with test taking here were due to my communication and philosophy problems I have with my Difficult Teacher. That theory was proven wrong today, terribly wrong.
Classrooms are already fairly crowed. When you pack thirty students into a medium-sized classroom it becomes very difficult to spread them out during a test. The desks are crunched together. A certain amount of looking over shoulders is bound to happen just because of the limited space. Somehow, the classrooms seem even more crowed to me during a test. It is impossible to give students enough space so that they aren't staring at their neighbors test. The staring isn't subtle either. Students lean over the aisles to look at another test. Sometimes, they will even hold up their test for their friends to see.
Of course, this isn't the only way students cheat. The classroom is just as noisy during a test as it is during a regular lesson which by American standards is just about at the yelling level. Students ask each other for answers or talk about what they are going to do after school. It doesn't matter what they are saying or how loud they say it. It never crosses their mind to stop talking during an important exam.
Finally, two methods of cheating just about blew my mind. I asked the co-teacher before we started what her rules were. She said "No books, no notes, to be quiet, a regular test." When students couldn't be find inspiration for the writing section she had them get out their books. The rule basically meant nothing. Well, not nothing, I guess. I certainly enforced the rule and took three books away from students before I saw my co-teacher look right over another student who had his book out. More shocking was the instance of one boy physically handing his test book over to another boy to finish. At that point I didn't really care what the co-teacher did or didn't do. That was too blatant of cheating for me. I took both of their tests away before they had finished. It won't hurt their score much since they were already basically done. I wish it would have, though.
I discussed all the cheating with my co-teacher after the test. I can't understand how cheating could be allowed in any way. If the students don't understand a topic but cheat off someone who does know, how will the teacher know she needs to review the topic again. Tests are just as important for teachers as students. They help show where weaknesses are during instruction time. They help show whether the class is successfully navigating the year-long schedule to be prepared for the next year. My co-teacher just said, "They couldn't survive without cheating." Well, maybe it's about time they tried. I know that many of the students who were cheating are more than capable of being successful without help. They need to have the confidence to do that.
I know their are differences in the cultural mindset surrounding education for Georgians and Americans. This difference is just too much for me to bend for. I can't stand their and watch students and teachers rob themselves of a great opportunity to really asses their strengths and then improve. What to do, what to do?
Friday, March 11, 2011
House Slippers and Other Reasons I am Sick
Despite the reasons I might believe I am sick such as I work at a germy school that doesn't have soap in the bathroom or the maid, Dalika, doesn't cover her mouth when she coughs, really this is what the Georgians keep telling me.
I am sick because . . .
1. I don't wear my house slippers all the time. You are supposed to get home, take off your shoes and put on your slippers. Sometimes I forget and walk around in my socks. If I'm just in my bedroom I might even be barefoot. My host family will all look at me like I'm crazy when they see my naked feet and immediately demand I put slippers on.
2. I wear short sleeved sweaters. I have a couple sweaters that I wear on sunny days or when I know the school will be heated. For some reason this is not a good idea even though the outside temperature is usually in the 30s and even low 40s on those days. It always makes me giggle to think of what they'd say if they saw all the Wisconsin kids wearing flip-flops in six inches of snow. That surely makes you more cold than wearing short sleeves.
3. I take a shower in the morning. I don't really understand the reasoning behind this because I've only gotten the comment once. Shannon, the other Poti, volunteer says her family harps about it a lot. I guess having wet hair in the morning allows germs to infect you easier. I would like to point out that most Georgians don't have curly hair. They have no idea what trials I go through to tame my hair even a little while living next to the sea and in the humid air here.
The cold that I currently have seems to be the same one that everyone has been passing around for the last three weeks. The sinus pressure was bad enough for me that on Thursday I stayed home from school. When I arrived at school on Friday for my two lessons, my co-teacher first demanded to know where I was yesterday. I had texted her the morning before school started. The school was also contacted. I don't think this teacher has ever missed a day of school even when she was terribly ill. This teacher was also one of the first to get the cold earlier this month, perhaps it's her germs that got me sick. I told her that I was felling better and didn't want to miss school. Since I wasn't coughing anymore, I figured the potential for me passing germs had become more limited. Telling her I was still sick was a mistake. She kept telling me to go home and sleep and feel better. I couldn't tell if she just didn't want me in class with her or she really thought I looked sick and miserable.
I will continue to drink tea and orange juice and plenty of fluids (happy mom?). I didn't go traveling this weekend like planned so I could rest and recuperate. I think I'll be able to beat this nasty bug soon. All I'll have to do is buy some soap for the school.
I am sick because . . .
1. I don't wear my house slippers all the time. You are supposed to get home, take off your shoes and put on your slippers. Sometimes I forget and walk around in my socks. If I'm just in my bedroom I might even be barefoot. My host family will all look at me like I'm crazy when they see my naked feet and immediately demand I put slippers on.
2. I wear short sleeved sweaters. I have a couple sweaters that I wear on sunny days or when I know the school will be heated. For some reason this is not a good idea even though the outside temperature is usually in the 30s and even low 40s on those days. It always makes me giggle to think of what they'd say if they saw all the Wisconsin kids wearing flip-flops in six inches of snow. That surely makes you more cold than wearing short sleeves.
3. I take a shower in the morning. I don't really understand the reasoning behind this because I've only gotten the comment once. Shannon, the other Poti, volunteer says her family harps about it a lot. I guess having wet hair in the morning allows germs to infect you easier. I would like to point out that most Georgians don't have curly hair. They have no idea what trials I go through to tame my hair even a little while living next to the sea and in the humid air here.
The cold that I currently have seems to be the same one that everyone has been passing around for the last three weeks. The sinus pressure was bad enough for me that on Thursday I stayed home from school. When I arrived at school on Friday for my two lessons, my co-teacher first demanded to know where I was yesterday. I had texted her the morning before school started. The school was also contacted. I don't think this teacher has ever missed a day of school even when she was terribly ill. This teacher was also one of the first to get the cold earlier this month, perhaps it's her germs that got me sick. I told her that I was felling better and didn't want to miss school. Since I wasn't coughing anymore, I figured the potential for me passing germs had become more limited. Telling her I was still sick was a mistake. She kept telling me to go home and sleep and feel better. I couldn't tell if she just didn't want me in class with her or she really thought I looked sick and miserable.
I will continue to drink tea and orange juice and plenty of fluids (happy mom?). I didn't go traveling this weekend like planned so I could rest and recuperate. I think I'll be able to beat this nasty bug soon. All I'll have to do is buy some soap for the school.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
A Wedding Supra: An Event Suprisingly Similar to the Packers Winning the Superbowl
I will first endeavor to explain what a "supra" is. This is not an easy task, however. Supra literally means table in English. It is a giant feast where Georgians toast anything and everything they can think of. At every toast an entire glass of wine is had. You start the feast with a table full of food. An American could relate it to the amount of food seen at a Thanksgiving meal. You take that amount and multiply it by six or seven. You pour wine (a cousin assured me that the alcohol content of this wine is more like beer, but I'm not so sure about that) into beer pitchers and sit a ton of people around the table. Then you make a toast every few minutes, eat some delicious food, bring out more food, make more toasts, sing some songs, make more toasts, bring more food, dance, more toasts, more food and it just continues like this for hours.
It sounds a bit overwhelming, and, frankly, it was. Yet, there was more to this adventure than just the supra. It started Friday afternoon. Gocha and I got into his car and picked up one of his cousins who had a small boy with her of four or five. We picked up another cousin and headed off to Tbilisi. The car was an SUV. They are big vehicles but not really meant for five adults (Gocha's car has a driver, Beso. I think it's his Valet. Language barrier has made this difficult to understand) and a small child. Tbilisi is four-six hours away depending on whether you go 80km/hr or 160km/hr. We stopped at the same restaurant in the mountains for dinner. We had khatchapuri, of course, some grilled meat and pickled vegetables.
It sounds a bit overwhelming, and, frankly, it was. Yet, there was more to this adventure than just the supra. It started Friday afternoon. Gocha and I got into his car and picked up one of his cousins who had a small boy with her of four or five. We picked up another cousin and headed off to Tbilisi. The car was an SUV. They are big vehicles but not really meant for five adults (Gocha's car has a driver, Beso. I think it's his Valet. Language barrier has made this difficult to understand) and a small child. Tbilisi is four-six hours away depending on whether you go 80km/hr or 160km/hr. We stopped at the same restaurant in the mountains for dinner. We had khatchapuri, of course, some grilled meat and pickled vegetables.
We got to Tbilsi and sat out in a parking lot for 20 minutes before Nino and her youngest son came out. Her son told me in English that I would be spending the weekend with a family friend, Tamuna. Tamuna spent eight years in Russia with her family and spoke English pretty well. Her husband, George, did, too. They have two teenage sons that I met that night. They had super and then I went to bed. The next morning was a bit awkward. Waiting around for the family to wake up was odd. What are you supposed to do? Anyway, we went to Nino and Gocha’s apartment at 1PM. There I proceeded to wait some more. This waiting was mixed with short episodes of understanding the family was talking about me but not the details and having the cute cousins being herded towards me to entertain me since they spoke English.
Finally, we went to the Church, the oldest church in Georgia. Beautiful doesn’t begin to cover the space. An Orthadox service was different but still held elements I could figure out despite it being in Georgian. I will admit that the crowning part was difficult not to laugh at. Both the groom and bride had to kiss each other’s crowns and then wear them for a bit. Next the best man and maid of honor took off the crowns to hold them above their heads. All four then proceeded to follow the priest in walking around an icon in the center of the church. I’m sure there is some great meaning in this symbol. But, it looked a trifle funny. Don’t worry, I didn’t actually laugh. I held on to some dignity and didn’t embarrass the whole family.
After the service, we went to the restaurant for the supra. There was some more awkward waiting and smiling at strangers staring at the foreigner, me, while Nino found a cousin to pawn me off on. I ended up at a table right by the wedding party’s table. This table was full of male cousins. Most of them spoke some English and were pretty darn attractive. The family has some impressive genetics, let me tell you. They helped to explain the toasts and encouraged me to try the endless platters of food that were brought out. I was next to the dance floor and got to dance with some fun people. One dance was even with a very drunk guy who kept trying to dip me. I refused with “ara” (no). He didn’t seem to understand why I wouldn’t trust him. I don’t know, a drunk guy who can barely stand up straight doesn’t sound like the best person to trust to hold your head a couple feet from the floor. It was a great party. I just didn’t have the stamina of Georgians for the food and drink and dancing. It was exhausting.
Georgians can party for hours. The young men love to show off how much alcohol they can consume. They are loud and cheer for the bride and groom. If you stand off to the side of the party you will see what must surely amount to chaos. The males wander from table to table drinking and chatting with everyone. It really reminded me of watching the celebrations of Packers’ fans after winning the superbowl. The hours of celebrations and the conversations for weeks later of the drunken escapades and game highlights were very similar to the longevity of the Georgian party. I will admit that Georgians have us Wisconsinites beat when it comes to alcohol tolerance. I have a new perspective on what it means to be drunk. There were no mean or weepy drunks to be seen. They were friendly and boisterous. It was an interesting evening.
I spent the night with Tamuna again and met up with Nino and Gocha at the restaurant on Sunday. For four hours I engaged in another supra with the 30 closest family members. The Tamanda, the leader of the supra and toastmaster, was George. He and I had talked a lot during the weekend, and he seemed to adopt me as his own daughter. Therefore before I could leave after Gocha demanded that we be released to get back to Poti that day, he made a ten minute long toast about me and my teaching and my home state and how I was a part of the family now. (It’s not uncommon for toasts to take up a lot of time, this was just inconvenient) It was cute and quite the sendoff.
The wedding supra was without a doubt the most adventurous activity I've done here in Georgia.