Highlights of Teaching

A few of you may have forgotten that I am actually in Georgia for the purpose of teaching, not to roam the  countryside and sleep in strangers' homes.  Teaching, as I have mentioned before, is entirely new to me.  There have been many ups and downs, due to both the cultural differences and my unfamiliarity with the task at hand.  However, the highlights have been magnificent.  I would have never, ever thought that teaching my 5th grade the hokey pokey would put me in such a good mood.  Alas, life is full of surprises.  Here are some highlights from teaching:

• Teaching a lesson to the 8th, 9th and 10th grades about Lady Gaga.  My students had to read an article and tell me their opinions.  I later gave them articles about Banksy, Shepard Fairy and Johnny Depp.  Hearing their opinions and helping them articulate themselves in English was a great feeling. 
• Teaching my 3rd grade "I Can Sing a Rainbow."  Turns out I am tone deaf and shouldn't be teaching young, impressionable children how to sing.  Nonetheless, it was great fun.
• Teaching the hokey pokey to my 5th grade.  They needed to learn right and left and this was my solution.  They really got into the dancing aspect and suddenly I heard a loud thump. Luca had fallen down somehow, but he got right back up and continued dancing.
• I wanted to teach the 5th grade the different parts of the body, but didn't have access to a printer to make a diagram of the human body.  My solution?  I created labels for each body part and asked a student to volunteer to come up to the front of the class.  The other students then had to attach the right label to the right part, i.e. head, arm, hand.  I followed this up with a rousing round of "head, shoulders, knees and toes."
• Asking the 11th grade conditional questions such as: "If I you won the lottery, what would you do?"; "If you could be an animal, what would you be?"; and "If you were stuck on a desert island, what would you bring?"  Alas, these kids are much too nice and practical. Answers included: I would give money to the poor and I would bring wood, matches, clothing, a compass and water to the island.  My answer?  I would bring my ipod to the island.  
• Playing Guess Who? with the 9th grade and having them practice describing people. 
• Throwing my "magic" ball at students.  Wait, it is not as bad as it sounds.  If they catch the ball they have to answer the question.  It keeps them awake and paying attention at the very least.  My 5th grade can handle this with the utmost maturity, however, those pesky resource development officers (i.e. the adult students) had to have the ball taken away after someone threw it at another student's head. 
• Encouraging the students who have been labeled "lazy" and getting them to speak.  Some have become more and more vocal over the past few months, which pleases me to no end.

My low point: trying to unteach Georgians the phrase "shut up."  It sounds awful when they say this, and somehow everyone knows this phrase.  At least they sometimes say "shut up please."

The Road to Kazbegi

From time to time TLG books excursions for the teachers, until now I have not had the opportunity to participate in one.  However, when I heard that Alex was taking a group to Kazbegi I leaped at the opportunity.  Kazbegi is located on the Georgian Military Highway, near the Russian boarder and mere a stone's throw away from Chechya.  Created in ancient times, this road has served as the primary route from Georgia to Russia for centuries.  It was only in the 19th century, when Russia took over Georgia and the rest of the region, that it was turned into a proper highway.  Kazbegi, and journeying along this highway, has been at the top of my list of places to visit in Georgia since I arrived.  The downside of this was that those interested in coming to Kazbegi had to be at the meet-up point in Tbilisi at 8am on Sunday morning.  Oy mey.

My steadfast travel buddy Netty and I looked diligently for a place to crash in Tbilisi on Saturday night.  Since our Tbilisi based friends were all occupied and hotels/ hostels were too expensive, we opted to stay with Netty's host father's aunt.  A very sweet lady who did not speak a word of English, but eagerly opened her home to two strangers.  There were two university students already boarding with her, so Netty and I spent the night with three other strangers in a two room flat.  Just a regular Saturday night in Georgia.

 The next morning we met up with Alex and about a dozen or so fellow teachers and sped off to Kazbegi in two minibuses.  Alex, our tour guide and TLG flight coordinator, has a HUGE job of arranging these excursions as well as booking all the flights for us in and out Georgia.  Until now, he had only been that mysterious person in charge of my ticket out of Georgia who was not responding to my emails.  However, after spending a day with him, he is one of my favorite people.  He quickly showed off his daredevil side by scaling fortress walls and jumping down rocks near fast moving rivers.  In his previous life he was a director at a British high school in Tbilisi.  All those years with teenagers has kept him young.

Our first stop was at Avanuri fortress where we scaled the walls and wandered around a bit.  I mentioned to Alex that a certain fortress wall we were climbing on seemed high and narrow.  he responded, "not seems, is."

Avanuri Fortress

We piled into the minibuses and headed for our next stop, the picnic lunch.  We naively thought that this meant we would either eat in the minibuses or perhaps at a restaurant.  Ara (No).  We drove further into the mountains and wove higher and higher and the weather got colder and colder and our surroundings got whiter and whiter.  I, of course, was being kept company by my ipod, highlights include Aracade Fire, The National, and Tom Petty.  Just outside of the ski town of Gudauri our minibuses came to a stop in spot that had large round concrete slab, which is presumably used as a viewpoint over the mountains.  This was our picnic spot.  We dined on bananas and sandwiches while taking in an incredible view.  At one point the wind shifted and the clouds completely surrounded us.  A dog, who clearly knew that this was the picnic spot, made his way over and shared a few sandwiches with us before disapearing into the snow again.

Picnic spot

The View

Standing in the Clouds

Picnic Pal

Once again we piled into the cars and slowly made our way down into the Terek valley.  We made another stop to sample some mineral water.  My friend Frankie summed it up as tasting like "rusty nails."

We stopped here for water?

Yummy Mineral Water

We took a quick trip up to the Georgia-Russia boarder.  We did not go very close, but we had a clear view of the Georgia side of the checkpoint.  Once again there was a dog there to greet us, and perhaps to keep us from getting any clever ideas.

Russian Boarder Dog

Boarder Checkpoint

After that the next stop was Kazbegi.  This is where I explain that the village of Kazbegi itself is not the destination point for people traveling to "Kazbegi."  The destination is in fact the Tsminda Sameda Church.  Images of this church are often what appear when you google "Georgia, Republic of" or "Kazbegi."  Its photo even graces the cover of the pre-war Lonely Planet.  To get to this church from the village it is about a 5 kilometer walk uphill.  We thought about having the minibuses take us all the way to the top, since it was rainy and muddy.  However, the rain and mud made it too tricky for the minibuses to make it up the hilly path.  So off we went on foot.  Eventually the crazier minibus driver decided to make the effort and took a few to the top in his vehicle. However, those of us who stayed behind to hoof it up there felt a bit more accomplished when we reached the top, if not completely and utterly exhausted.


Throughout the journey the church kept getting closer and closer and then finally, we just had to make it up and over a snowbank to get to the church.  Alex threw snowballs at us as we climbed up.  And suddenly, there we were.  It was worth every wet puddle, muddy tumble to the ground and snowball to the head.

Tsminda Sameda in the distance

Tsminda Sameda - we made it!

Tsminda Sameda

After roaming around the grounds for a bit it began to snow.  It was a perfect scene.  After watching the huge flakes fall from the sky we headed back down the hill, taking the shortcuts, also know as steep inclines down hill that ended with us in somebody's field.  After hopping a few fences and barely avoiding falling in some cowpies we were back at the minibuses.  We were all pretty wet, cold and tired and there was a two hour journey ahead of us back to Tbilisi.  So I took off my wet shoes and settled in with my ipod.  Highlights include more Arcade Fire, New Order and The Cure.  We once again wove through the mountains, over the hills and among many, many herds of sheep, cows, and occasionally pigs.

Sheep using the Georgian Military Highway

Life in Gori

I have been traveling around the country a lot lately, and I realized that I have neglected to write more about life in Gori.  I have said many times over the past two months that I am really glad to have been sent to Gori.  It is both a proper city (aprox. 50,000) and a small village (i.e. cows and chickens in the road).  I have really enjoyed becoming part of the community here in Gori and participating in the many important springtime events.


Bonfires
The first of these was the Wednesday before Easter.  I cannot pronounce, or spell for that matter, the official name of this day, but the basic premise is that everyone lights bonfires around town and the children jump over the flames.  My host mother explained that this tradition was started back in the old days when people would burn their old clothes and get the "devils" out of the home before Easter.  Or something to that extent.  The most popular kindling for the fires is not clothing, however, it's tires.  So it is well-known that you should never ever hang out your laundry on this day because everything will become sooty and black.

I had a wonderful time walking through town with my family stopping at all of the different fires.  We met up with my host mom's sister and her daughters and walked around some more while munching on sunflower seeds.  Sunflower seeds are an integral part of walking in spring.

bonfires

walking with a gaggle of girls

 bonfires

St. George's Day
The next big event I got to participate in was St. George's Day on May 6th.  This is a very exciting day for Gori dwellers as it means that Gori Jvari reopens for the summer.  It remains open until November 23rd, the other St. George's Day.  Gori Jvari is a large church that sits up on a hill near my house overlooking the city.  Whenever Georgians pass a church they cross themselves three times, so it is common to see people stopped in the middle of my street crossing themselves furiously.  Surprisingly we had school that day, not surprisingly few students showed up and those who did were petulant about not being able to leave early and walk to the church.  I asked my 5th grade what was special about this day and how they celebrate.  They explained to me that it commemorates when St. George killed a dragon ( I think?) and that they go to the church and sacrifice sheep.  The older of my host sisters invited me to join her classmates on a picnic.  Since only 3 of my students showed up for our lesson, I was released early for the picnic.

Gori Jvari in the distance

The  "walk" to Gori Jvari takes about an hour and is straight up hill.  We were only a few in a sea of many people making their way to the church.  The air was heavy with festivity (and wine).  The wind always blows in Gori, but that day it was particularly strong and I was surprised not to see chickens and Gori dwellers flying off the hillside.  When we finally made it to the church, only a few people from the group went inside to pray while the rest of us stayed outside and enjoyed the view.  I watched as one of the sheep tried to get away from his owner, and by extension his upcoming fate. 

The walk to Gori Jvari

Gori Jvari

Gori Jvari

Our time at the church was brief.  It became clear to me that the most important part of this day was actually the picnic.  We walked about twenty more minutes further into the woods, where the wind couldn't get to us, and settled in.  My host dad had very kindly prepared the lamb shishkabobs for the picnic the night before.  When the boys started the fire and began putting the meat onto skewers my host sister shook her head and said "they don't know what they are doing," and took over the skewer duties.  I was proud of her. Soon we were feasting on lamb, lavash and jonjoli.

(Side note: I have become a fan of jonjoli which is a pickled, green, salty plant that seems to exist only in Georgia.  I recently came home to buckets of light pink and white flowers covering the balcony.  I was told that that is what jonjoli looks like before it gets pickled.  There are now several jars on the counter waiting to be eaten.)

After about an hour I ran out of things to talk about with this group of 16 year-olds.  Turns out we don't have all that much in common, and I am after all their teacher, so I was ready to head back down as it was also getting chilly.  However, there was still some socializing to be done, so I waited and observed until it was time to go.  As we headed down the hill it got quite cold.  At some point my sister much have realized that she shouldn't be caught coming home without a coat (the fact that a nice young man had lent her his, was not
 going to be a viable explanation for grandma), so she said to me "we must wait here for Kati."  Sure enough a few moments later Kati came running from around the corner with a coat and Nata was able to come home pretending she had it all along.  Sisterhood, it is the same everywhere.

Rock Concert
The latest event in Gori took place last Thursday.  All week my family had been talking about the rock concert that would take place in the city center.  As I was walking around earlier in the day I saw the stage being set up with a huge banner with the European Union Monitoring Mission logo and about a dozen of their cars lined up.  I didn't realize that the EUMM could take time off from their peacekeeping duties (they monitor the peace accords between Russia and Georgia) to hold rock concerts.  A highlight for my family and students was that Vassia, a very charming Russian teacher from my school who is known for being quite the jazz musician back in his youth, was going to be playing in this concert.  He joined a group of young and old musician and rocked Gori post-Soviet style.  The music sounded exactly like what you would expect rock in the former-Soviet Union to sound like.  I went with my host family and my friend Netty, which added up to a gaggle of girls and Uncle Zaza.  It appeared that everyone in Gori was at this event, all age groups, dancing around together, eating sunflower seeds and drinking fanta.  I said to Netty that the only thing missing was the "Saqartvelo!" chant.  And moments later there is was.  We later walked home with the gaggle of girls singing "I love rock and roll."  


Life is good in Gori.

Borjomi

May 9th was Victory Day, when Georgians, and many others, celebrate the USSR's WWII victory.  With a three-day weekend made available to us, the travel family decided that it was time to hit Borjomi.  Borjomi is a resort town where the tsars, and then later the Soviet elite, would vacation.  It is also known for its mineral water, which is salty, bubbly and sworn by all Georgians to be the cure for too much chacha.  We arranged for a homestay and planned to spend time in Borjomi National Park as well as the Mineral Water Park and also take a side trip to Vardzia, a huge cave city about 3 hours ways by car (2 with Georgian  driving style).  Perfect plan for a three-day weekend.

Netty and I planned to have the Tbilisi folks meet us in Gori and we would hop on the first marshutka at 9:30 am all together and make our way to Borjomi, which is only about an hour and a half from Gori.  We had our doubts that Mallory, Jeremy, Frankie and Rob would make into Gori in time to catch our ride, but alas they proved us wrong.  We were certain, or at least very optimistic, that the first marshutka on Saturday morning was at 9:30 am.  After all, we had asked our co-teachers, our families, I even made a special trip to ask the marshutka drivers themselves.  However, upon arrival at the marshutka station, which also doubles as a taxi stand and large market, it appeared that there was no marshutka until 12:40 pm.  Oh mey (Georgian for "oh my god"... or something to that effect).  Netty and I spent some time in broken Georgian, Russian and English trying to straighten things out, but when the rest of our group arrived and a driver saw all six of us, he went over to his van, switched the sign to Borjomi, asked for $5 lari a head, and off we went.  I love this country.

After we settled into the homestay we decided to go for a walk/hike in the national park.  It was a chilly and rainy day, but we decided it was not a big deal.  We stopped at the Borjomi tourist center for a map.  The man there spoke perfect English and eagerly shared all the attractions and entertainment options with us.  (Spoiler alert, there is no bar night scene in Borjomi, so entertainment means hiking and bathing in salt water.)  Off we went with our map.  Our merry band of travelers, being who we are, managed to take a small, unplanned "detour," i.e. not the most direct route, through the town.  There was an animated scene where Frankie and Rob discussed a sign and analyzed which direction it was pointing as the rest of us watched from across the street.  Many big gestures where involved: shrugging, pointing, head scratching, more pointing.  We then asked a friendly police officer.  Our languages failed us and in the end we just picked a direction. Alas it was the right one.

The office for the national park is about ten times larger than the Borjomi tourist office and a very helpful woman provided us with information and allowed us to leave our excess belongings behind.  Off we went through the forest.  Our merry band of travelers managed to take a "detour," i.e. not the trail, and follow a little stream for a while.  It was a beautiful and stunningly green. 

Borjomi National Park

Borjomi National Park

Borjomi National Park

After a few hours of walking through the woods, we decided it was time for dry shoes (I cannot retype here the words I used each time I managed to step in that darling little stream.) and some food.  We stopped at the homestay to change and then made our way to the tavern where all the locals go. 

Upon arrival at Tavern Nia we saw that it was just us and a group of about six men.  After some beers it was time for the dancing with our new Georgian friends to begin, stopping only to eat our dinner.  There is really no more quintessential Georgian experience than dancing with strangers to Shakira.  After the bar literally ran out of beer -not our fault, we only had two each - we headed out into the night.  It was barely 9 pm, but there was nowhere else to go but home.  So we went back and played some card games.

Dancing

Dancing

The next morning we got up early to make our way to Vardzia.  We haggled with some taxi drivers and negotiated a price for the daylong journey.  The original plan was for us to take one car. However, our attempt to fit four in the back and two in the front was...uncomfortable.  We took the leap and hired a second car.  Thank god.  I brought along my ipod for the long drive.  Pre-war Lonely Planet had promised the drive to Vardzia would be spectacular, that was no exaggeration.  Pictures really do not do it justice.  We wove through rocky mountains and green hills, the heavy rain that day made everything even more brilliant and richly colored.  Paired with my flawless soundtrack, highlights include The Stranglers, Tom Petty, Jeff Buckley, and David Bowie, the drive was the highlight of my weekend.

Upon arrival in Vardzia I was grinning from ear to ear.  "I'm so happy!" I said.  "Uh, yeah we can tell," said Mallory.

Vardzia is a cave city dating back to the 12th century, it features multiple levels and hundreds of rooms, many churches, and even a working monastery.  In 1283 there was a huge earthquake and the outer walls were shaken away, vastly reducing its size. Its amazing to think this huge network of caves was once even larger.  Our merry band of travelers spent two hours weaving in and out of rooms, climbing rocks, walking down dark tunnels, smacking our heads on low ceilings, and enjoying the views.  At one point the heavy rain started up again and we all sat and watched from the inside of the cave.  We eventually made our way back down to our cars and headed back to Borjomi.

Vardzia

Vardzia

Khertvisi Fortress

We made a quick stop at Khertvisi Fortress and climbed the castle walls and wandered in and out of the ruins.

The next day was our last day.  After lazily sitting in the sun on the balcony of our homestay and waving to the tiny, but enthusiastic, Victory Day parade that drove by, we decided to make a picnic and then go swimming in the mineral water park. After gathering our picnic supplies we somehow lost inspiration for carrying our mountains of food into the woods and we settled into the city square for our feast.  After we chowed down on pickles, olives, cucumbers, tomatoes, lavash, cheese, and kalbasa, we decided to go swimming.  Upon arrival at the mineral park, we immediately regretted not picnicking there.  The entry point to the park is a children's amusement park.  A bit creepy in the off season, but the rest of the surroundings are perfect for a lazy day in the sun.  We walked about three kilometers up to the mineral pool. This required maneuvering over some "bridges" and encouraging some cows to unblock our path.  I was worried we would arrive at some cheesy swimming pool, but much to my delight it was a simple concrete, no-nonsense pool.  We all jumped in and splashed around in the warm sulfur water for a bit.  But it soon came time to hurry back and catch the marshutka.  We made our way back through the cow paths and over the bridges, past the abandoned kiddie rides and out of the park.

Swimming hole.

After a quick stop for ice cream, we were on our way back to big city life, with nothing but happy memories and sunburns.  And oh yeah, hundreds of pictures.

Spring Break Armenian Style

We had a long weekend for the Easter holidays, so a few of my fellow teachers and I decided to hop on a marshutka and head to Yerevan.  The trip started off easy enough, my friend Annette (Netty) and I got up early to take a cab from Gori to the Ortachala bus stop in Tbilisi.  There we met our friend Chris, who is teaching in Zugdidi.  Then Mallory, Jeremy, Frankie, and Caitlin, all teaching in Tbilisi, and Rob, teaching in a village near Tbilisi, showed up.  We all piled into a marshutka with only one other passenger, a friendly Russian-speaking woman who was clearly bewildered by all of us young, loud English speakers.  About an hour into the journey Jeremy announces he doesn't have his passport.  A few chaotic moments followed where we asked the driver to pull over and I explained in Russian that Jeremy was without a passport.  We assigned Rob to be his travel buddy for the journey back to Tbilisi, and there we left them on the side of the road in an unnamed village somewhere outside of Tbilisi with nothing but promises of "we will see you there!"

We were all optimistic that they would make their own way to Yerevan not too far behind us.

The drive to Yerevan was spectacular.  Everything was beginning to bloom and we wove through high mountains and over bumpy roads.  Mallory and I had each packed a picnic so we were able to dine on lavash, cheese, hachika, girl scout cookies, and Easter candy (courtesy of some Americans who visited my school).  We arrived in Yerevan at one of the most impressive hostels I have ever stayed at.  We dropped our stuff off and went to explore the city.  We were hoping that Jeremy and Rob would be there when we got back from dinner.  Alas they were not.  There was a moment of false hope when Rob's French twin walked into our room.  I think he was shocked by our eager faces which suddenly drooped in disappointment.  "It's still lovely to meet you though!" we said.

A few moments after that they did arrive and we were jubilant.  And a few moments after that the woman next door told us to stop being jubilant.   

The next day we explored the city by foot.  At first we attempted to explore as a group of eight, but we eventually split.  Rob, Chris, Mallory and I wandered around, eventually ending up at the Cascade which is best described as a giant stair case with interesting statues at the base.  The boys indulged us in a few pictures.

Chris, Rob, and Statue

At the bottom of the Cascade

At the top of the Cascade

The next day we took a bus tour that was arranged through the hostel.  This was an all day excursion that Jeremy, Netty, Chris and I opted to take along with 40 or so strangers (turns out some of them were also TLGers).  It was called "essential Armenia" and took us to Lake Sevan and Sevanavank, which is the monastery that sits overlooking the lake.  Next we went to Noratus cemetery, where there are many ancient tombstones that tell ancient stories, including the one about the wife who thought her husband drank too much vodka.  While we were wandering among the tombstones, some hundreds of years old and others brand new, Jeremy was invited to join a man who was visiting his sister's grave.  He motioned Jeremy over to sit with him and drink a few shots of vodka and sample his small feast.  I'm sorry I missed it, as it seemed to be quite the memorial experience.  Next, all 40 or so of us in the group piled into a home where a nice family prepared lunch for us.  After that the next stop was another monastery called Hayravank, which also overlooks Lake Sevan.  We all waited at the top of the hill while a young Irishman in our group used the monk's old escape route to walk down to the lake and take a quick swim.  It looked cold.  Very cold.  We gave him a round of applause.  Next we went to Garni temple which is a pagan ruin and then the last stop was Geghard Monastery, which is carved out of the side of a mountain.  After this whirlwind day, I certainly felt that I had a true sense of "essential Armenia."

Sevanavank at Lake Sevan

Noratus cemetery.  She kept asking us to take her picture and posing for us.

View from Hayravank Monastery of the swimming Irish

Garni Temple

Chris and Jeremy at Garni Temple

Me at Garni Temple

Inside Geghard monastery

On Sunday it was Easter so some of us traveled to Khor Virap Monastery, which is at the foot of Mt. Ararat.  Mt. Ararat is a sacred place for Christians, and especially Armenians.  It is currently within Turkey's borders which are closed and therefore this monastery is as close as many Armenians can get to the sacred mountain.  Netty, Mallory and I set out for the monastery, Chris and Caitlin were going to see another church, and Frankie, Jeremy and Rob didn't know what they would do.  Just as us ladies stepped out of the hostel, we heard, "wait, wait for us."  Turns out the three boys didn't know how to get by without us.  So off we went in search of a marshutka.  Turns out we couldn't find one so we hired two taxi drivers who drove us there and back and waited while we explored.  It was amazing to see so many people swarming to the church and realize that only a small, small few were tourists, everyone else was there to worship.  We saw many a rooster being marched to it's sacrificial death.  Unfortunately, I also spied the pile of rooster heads, put a damper on the celebration for me.  All of us but Mallory walked up to the rocky hill top that overlooks the monastery.  We saw handkerchiefs tied to the bushes and someone explained that it was where people made wishes.  So I took Frankie's Swiss army  knife and cut some of the fringe from my scarf and we picked out a bush and each made a wish.  Mallory missed out, but when we came back down she had been posing for photos with random people's kids.  So she had a perfectly good time without us.

View of Mt. Ararat

Khor Virap Monastery

Making a wish

Later that night most of us went out for drinks at a nearby bar.  My birthday was the next day so at midnight we toasted my birthday Georgian style.  This means that each person stood up and made a very sincere toast about how wonderful I am.  Except Frankie, whose toast I won't retype here, but it did make me laugh.  Thanks Frank!  Afterward everyone put on lipstick and gave me birthday kisses.  I don't know why, but it was great nonetheless.

The last day was my actual birthday, which we spent lounging around in a park baking in the sun.  I brought my ipod so Rob and I listened to the Smiths while Mallory and Chris tried to annihilate each other at 7 degrees of Kevin Bacon.  A perfect day.  It was our last night in Armenia so we celebrated the end of our adventure with a dinner at an Armenian restaurant and gave more Georgian toasts. 

All in all it was a great time.  I certainly bonded with a new group of people and developed relationships which only people who travel to together in tight quarters with no room for secrets can.  I am writing this entry anticipating a weekend in Borjomi, the resort town of choice for the Russian tsars and politburo elite, with the same group of merry travelers. 

Meeting the Minister

Today several teachers from the TLG program traveled to Tbilisi for a meeting with Dimitri Shashkini, the Minister of Education.  For many this seemed like the usual public relations effort to put a good face on a program that many people have lingering doubts about, both in Georgia and elsewhere.  However, I think many of us were pleasantly surprised to meet a young, dynamic, enthusiastic man who spoke very frankly about the TLG program. He was one of the most realistic, yet ambitious and optimistic, leaders I had ever seen speak.

An interesting note about the Minister.  Before coming to the Ministry of Education and Science he was Minister of Corrections and Legal Assistance. Meaning he was in charge of law enforcement and prisons.  He jokingly referred to the overlaps in the ideas applied to the prisons and the schools, but clearly there is some overlap and he is playing to his strengths to make things better.  And it is working.  (This is amusing to me because I have applied some of my ideas from working in harm reduction to my students as well.)  It also turns out that he and I worked for the same organization (the International Republican Institute) during the same time period.  He was obviously in the Georgia office at a high level and I was in the DC office at a low (read: intern) level and our paths likely never crossed.  Nonetheless, small world.

The Minister was very matter of fact about the program and the struggles associated with the Georgian education system.  Like many of the TLG staff, he referred to a time, not long ago, when the system was more or less collapsed.  When I ask Georgians my age or older what their classrooms were like, the only answer I get is: it was so bad then, the system was broken, there was no education.  Likewise, teachers always tell me how dramatically better the schools and education system are now, that so much has improved since the 90s.  The Minister said outright that the Soviet ideology damaged the minds and souls of Georgians.  Because of this legacy many people still adhere to the "old way" of doing things.  Some principals still do not take on the leadership role they need to, some teachers still give up on the students who say they do not want to learn, and some students still see no importance in learning.  Of course this does not apply to everyone, but it makes for complications when trying to impose a rapid and dramatic reform to an education system that was left out to sea for many years.  So yes, there are challenges with the TLG program, and the education system as a whole, but it is nothing that cannot be fixed with hard work and patience. 

Most concerns that TLG  teachers had -- students, textbooks, the resource officers -- the Minister has a plan for.  Beginning in the fall grades 1-6 will have new textbooks, better textbooks.  The following year, grades 7-12 will get their new and better textbooks.  Textbooks will no longer have to purchased by the students' parents, but rather the school will provide them.  Meaning ALL students will have textbooks.  This is major progress in and of itself, seeing as many of us have lamented the terrible textbooks that our students are stuck with.  In the program coordinator's words: "Yes, the textbooks suck."  But as of September 15th, it will get better.  In addition, next year students will receive netbooks enabled with software that will help them study English in a more interactive fashion.  Teachers are already having to take exams and having to become better qualified to teach their subjects.  In turn, they will receive better pay.  This is all amazing news and certainly a well-thought out plan.

TLG is only a small component of a much larger plan for Georgia's educational system.  TLG only began last August, so like all new programs, there are growing pains.  Certain aspects have been difficult for the volunteers, and surely the schools and teachers have had some challenges as well.  When it comes down to it, people's expectations of the program and the volunteers' role here in Georgia has varied.  This applies both to the schools and the volunteers themselves.  The program recruits people from all age groups and professional backgrounds, many have never taught English before (myself included).  This means that there have been a mixture of results in the classroom.  For some, previous teaching experience overseas or in their own country helps a great deal, sometimes it hinders.  Some are very devoted to making the most of their volunteer experience and impacting the community in a positive way, others less so.  Some are resilient and take the challenges in stride, others give up.

My primary concern about the program was the fact that I had absolutely no teaching experience.  Sure I have studied foreign languages since I was 13 and have plenty of ideas about how to effectively study a new language.  And sure, I have worked for the last 10 years with people from the former Soviet Union and am familiar with the social and political conditions.  But teaching? To kids? No.  I was told this was not a problem when I applied.  And the Minister reiterated this.  Actually, he said that he did not care if we don't have teaching experience.  It's not the point of the program.  We're here to speak to the children and have them learn from interaction with us.  This was very helpful for me to hear at this point in time.  I am slightly more than halfway finished with my contract and have been feeling a bit defeated as of late.  I have been fearing that I am not effective in the classroom and have not yet figured out the art of co-teaching.  And with so little time left, how will I ever turn it around and make their investment in me worthwhile for everyone involved?  However, after listening to the Minister, I feel re-energized and ready to take another leap into the deep end.  No it's not perfect.  Nothing is.  But there is a devoted staff and energetic volunteers willing to make it a bit more perfect.  And really that is all we can ever hope for.