Reasons why Teaching is the Best Job in the World (take 2)

I first posted this back in 2006...but I've been thinking a lot about teaching and our lives as teachers as I make the transition from yet another school! I've edited and added some new stuff too...

(This could also be titled "Reasons Why Being Parent is Awesome" because I think many of these statements would apply in parenthood as well...)

REASONS WHY TEACHING IS THE BEST JOB IN THE WORLD (Version 2)
1) Your day as a teacher is rarely, if ever, dull.

2) Kids are brilliant, funny, and endlessly surprising.

3) Even when you're having your worst day-- you have a cold, a headache, the flu, cramps, or you're so grumpy you want to growl at the next person who talks to you-- all it takes a smile from a kid to remind you how beautiful the world is.

4) You can reference Spongebob SquarePants or the Simpsons and no one tells you to grow up already.

5) Kids get to make you laugh.

6) You get to make kids laugh.

7) You're teaching a unit on the Civil Rights Movement and, later, a group of students who feel they have been punished unfairly are seen on the recess yard linking arms and singing "We Shall Overcome." And you're so proud you start to cry.

8) Sometimes it's so hard and so tiring and you mess everything up...but then there's the next day, and you get to try all over again.

9) You meet the most amazing people.

10) You learn there is something awe-inspiring, fascinating, and wonderful about every kid.

11) You honestly hear yourself use the phrase, "Watch it! You're going to put someone's eye out." And, "I can wait all day if I have to."

12) You swore you would never say, "Because I said so," and then, next thing you know, you're saying "Because I said so," and you really don't understand why they don't just do it BECAUSE YOU SAID SO. (Okay, maybe that's not a reason why it's the Best Job...)

13) You learn how to have buckets upon buckets of patience.

14) You get to stall the progression of time. It's like living in Never Never Land.

15) You feel useful every single day.

16) You get to be taller than at least SOME of the people in the room.

17) You get to be a storyteller.

18) Every school year, every group kids, surprises you somehow and in a way that you never expect.

19) Some days you find yourself in a heated debate with a kid about the fairness of a game or the amount of homework you are giving...and you think to yourself, "This is insane. I'm debating with a KID. And why do I feel like I'm losing?" Because, honestly, sometimes they challenge us and THEY'RE RIGHT. What we did to them or to the class wasn't fair. And at the same time you realize you're losing, you can't help but feel kind of impressed at how brazen and clever that kid is.

20) To borrow a quote from my friend Bronwyn: "Sometimes, they're all anarchists. And don't you kind of love them for it?" Yes. Yes I do.

21) Kids are way funnier than adults, even when they don't mean to be.

22) You get to watch the joyous reaction of a student who has just learned something new or mastered a new skill. It's great to see them proud of themselves.

23) You learn from the kids how to notice the little things: Your class gets distracted for twenty minutes because of a butterfly in the classroom (or, in Monteverde, a monkey outside the window! Or cows in the field!).

24) Kids remind us to never lose our Sense of Wonder. This year my students and I grew mold on bread-- I thought it was so gross I might throw up--my students thought it was the Coolest Thing Ever.

25) They work so hard, they struggle, they cry, they question and question and question. And then-- they get it. They look up at you, eyes wide, and say, "Ohhhhhh. I GET IT." And you are so excited you actually throw your hands in the air and cheer.

26) It's trite, but true: You truly are making a difference in someone's life. Whether you're helping them resolve out a personal dilemma, teaching them multiplication, or showing them how to use a compass, you're making an impact.

27) There are those moments when the kids blow your mind with some brilliant and profound statement- when they come out with something wiser than what is said by all the politicians in the world put together. And I'll tell you, it happens all the time.

More photos

Oops- couldn't fit all the strike photos and others on that post. Here they are. Also- a lovely picture of Michael smiling at a cafe in the cute square in Gracia.

Big Events in Barcelona

Some time has passed since these major events in Barcelona, but I'm just getting around to posting the pictures today. Back in September, the city celebrated 'La Merce' which has something to do with honoring Mary but I'm not really sure what. Mostly, it's an excuse to party for several days and light things on fire, as far as I can tell. Here in Barcelona, the Barcelonanins like to explode things and shoot off flaming things-- and also run dangerously close to these Exploding and Flaming Things. For most of the major festivals here they have a "Correfoc" (say that to yourself outloud and giggle) in which people dressed as devils or in huge dragon costumes carry giant twirling sparkler-shooters. They spin and shoot sparklers in all directions. The parade of these travels down Via Lietana, through the old city. The true fans of this event cover their hair and face and run as close as possible to the shooting sparks so that they can watch it cascade over them like a firework waterfall. I, however, chose to stand with Michael and our friend Anne far, far back from the shooting flames. We found a hotel with a large window that we could stand in so we could see the marching twirling sparklers, say to each other "Wow those are some big sparks," but not get burned by them. And people DO get burned. After watching the Correfoc, we wandered through the crowds in the Barri Gothic and watched a cool animation projected on a building in a square (pictured here).

Another exciting day of Stuff on Fire was La Vaga-- the strike-- which took place all over Spain on September 29. ("Vaga" is the Catalan word for strike. Most of Spain called it La "Huelga" which is the Spanish word for strike.) La Vaga was an impressive feat of national unity-- the entire country went on strike to protest the changes in the employment and retirement laws that have been passed in response to "La Crisis" (the major financial problems of the country). All transportation was down and everything was shut- and then the city joined in a huge, HUGE march again down Via Leitana. Before and after the march, there was also much torching of things and breaking of glass, including the lightening on fire of many recycling bins to create barricades in the streets and even a police car was torched. The police car I understand- but why burn the recycling bins? What did they ever do? Also there was just general window smashing and assorted drama. Lots of Anarchist actions here in the city as well- one building on Placa Catalunya was occupied by Anarchists for a few days. Not sure what impact it all had but it was impressive and moving to see the whole country come together in such a passionate way. I actually started to cry a little when I saw the big march coming down the street. It's hard for me to imagine the United States ever coming all together in one collective action like that.
Anyway, I've posted some photos of marching and burning here.

Celebrate Catalunya, Run La Merce

So it's been another eventful week here in Barcelona, as we celebrated September 11 day- "Catalunya Independence Day" which is confusing because Catalunya is in fact not really an independent country. It is a autonomous region which means something but I don't really know enough about it to explain. But, in actuality, the festival celebrates a major protest that happened during the time of Franco, in which the people of Catalunya marched on the streets, demanding rights to speak their language and have self-governance. These days the festival means a lot of Catalunyan flags and traditional Catalunyan things like building castles out of people and apparently selling lots and lots of books in Catalan. If I haven't said enough already about Catalan-- or if you haven't read my previous posts about it-- the best way to describe Catalan is to say that it really isn't like Spanish at all. If you think that you will come to Barcelona and be able to understand things because you speak Spanish, think again! Catalan is more similar to French or Italian but is fact not really like either of those. When I see it written, I can almost sort of understand some words-- but when I hear it spoken, I really have no idea what is being said.
Anyway. So the festival celebrates Catalan and all things Catalunyan. I've included here some pictures of the Arc de Triompf with the Catalan flag and also a parade that went marching by. Catalan nationalism is a big deal here.
Also this week I ran in the Cursa de la Merce, a huge 10k race that features a brief tour of some of the major streets of the center of the city and also 12,000 people. 12,000 people wearing really bright pink shirts. It was a lot of fun- but the beginning was crazy chaotic as the starting place was weirdly blocked off to runners so we all had to smoosh through a tiny opening in a metal fence.
But it was loads of fun! Not my best 10k time, but my second best. So that's good, considering I haven't been running that much. I've got to start upping the weekly mileage as I start to plan for the marathon on March!
Right now we are being treated to a chorus of the Women Who Shout From Their Balconies Rather Than Call People or Talk to Them in Their Apartments. It's kind of charming, if it wasn't so loud. There are several people in the building across the street who habitually shout to their friends in other apartments or on the street, and then proceed to have lengthy conversations in which they shout every word from one balcony to another. Earlier today one of the woman broke out into an old Spanish song and another man from another balcony shouted down that she is a terrible singer. She protested and continued singing.
I kind of love it and I kind of hate it. At the moment I'm leaning towards loving it. At least I get to practice my Spanish! And it has a wonderful Right Out of A Movie About Barcelona kind of feel to it. Very cinematic.

Pretty Pictures of a Pretty City

Here are some assorted shots of the palm trees at the Parc de la Ciutdella, the Arc de Triomphf, the little square just around the corner from our house, and the street sign for our little street.

Assorted Interesting food items

This week we've been enjoying discovering all sorts of unusual Spanish delights, including a culinary journey we like to call "Michael and Rebekah's Adventures in Seafood in a Can." Here in Spain, many types of seafood are sold in cans-- the small type, of the sardine-can variety. The doubtful among you may scoff at the possibility that something tasty can come from a can-- but I can attest, there are many canned examples of deliciousness here in our new home. Our first experience was the baby squid (pictured here). The squids are so small, five fit inside a can the size of a typical sardine can. We saw this box at "El Corte Ingles," the amazingly-tempting-but-too-expensive-but-hard-to-resist grocery story at the bottom of the department store of the same name. Seeing baby squid in a can, how could we NOT buy it? We had to try it. And-- I know you won't believe me-- but it was UNBELIEVABLE. One of the best taste experiences, I would say, OF MY LIFE. They are simply prepared-- just canned in olive oil, then we flavored them with a bit of lemon and salt and pepper. DE-vine. I know, I know. You're thinking chewy, right? This squid was not chewy. It melted in your mouth like a pat of squid-flavored butter. Michael and I each took a bite and then looked at each other and said, "Oh My God." Oh my god.
And this unique experience is available for less than 1 euro per can!
After the Joy of Squid, we moved on, the next night, to little slices of what I think are octopus in "Galicia" sauce. This was not good. This was inedible. The fish itself was okay, but the sauce was good awful.
Up next? Little mini sardines. AMAZING. Best sardines ever. Bought the can at the cheapo corner store for 45 cents. Perfect with a little bit of mustard, some bread, some wine. Dinner A La Rebekah and Michael's.
Then? How about little baby whole octopus? Delicious? Yes. Perfectly prepared, not chewy at all, wonderful? Yes. Not as good as the baby squid, though. Nothing yet has topped the Baby Squid Experience, but the little sardines came close.
I have also included here a picture of these incredible fresh figs we bought at the Santa Catarina market, just a few blocks from our house. This was actually our first shopping trip to Santa Catarina because it closes at 2:30 and we never seem to be able to make it there on time. But what a market! Beautiful fish and produce-- finally found what seem to be some good eggs-- olives and anchioves and CHEESE. We stood at the cheese counter for some time, holding our number, waiting to be called, staring at the display and feeling both thrilled and overwhelmed by the plethora of cheese choice. Ended up with two big hunks of something-or-other that was delicious. And then the olives! I've included here a picture of the Giant Olives that we bought that taste so amazing, you feel like you've died and gone to Olive Heaven.
Oh, yes, I also started my new teaching job this week- but I figured that was no where near as interesting as Seafood in a Can.
Otherwise things are good. The temperature has dropped, making the city quite pleasant to walk around. I've started running down by the beach and/or port so that I can look at the hills and the sea-- and the palm trees! Have I mentioned the palm trees? Next post I will put up some pictures of parks with palm trees...

First week of work, a boat ride, lots and lots of sun

Have I mentioned that it's hot? It's really, really, really hot. The rumor is that yesterday was, in fact, the hottest day in Barcelona for thirty years. It was in the mid 90s. So, it's hot. Baking your skin into crispy bacon, hot. Melting your leather sandals into your feat hot (seriously. I didn't even realize that was possible, but, my feet are now 2/3 feet and 1/3 black coloring melted off of sandal). The heat would be more bearable, perhaps, if there were many places with AC, but unfortunately AC is not typical here. This heat is unusual so most buildings are not equipped with it-- plus, it's an old city with old buildings, so central air would be a huge hassle to put in everywhere. In our classrooms at school, with the exception of the high school science lab where we have been clustered together the last week for meetings, grateful for the recirculated air. Yesterday there was a lovely grill heated up outside the cafeteria to make us a "barbecue" lunch-- and the smoke and heat served to make the already pretty toasty cafeteria into a toasty hot-box.
Also the walk from the tram line (which we take from the metro line, from the center of the city) is all uphill so by the time we get to school we are all a coated with a thin sheen of sweat.
But, other than baking myself silly in the heat, things have been lovely. Had an orientation week that went well, learned a lot of stuff about my new school. Seems like a great place! Hung up paper successfully in my classroom, with a limited amount of tears and crooked lines. Moved furniture around despite the roasting heat. Ate lots of really good lunches provided by the school. Met lots of great teachers, admins, etc. It's going to be a good school year, I think.
Hopefully, though, the temperature will cool down just a tad. I'm going to melt into a little Beka Puddle. And it's hard to teach fourth grade if I'm a Beka Puddle.
This week I also discovered a beautiful and amazing local public gym and pool that was the nicest public pool I think I've ever seen. You do have to pay for it-- but it is the quality of an urban "club" pool-- five floors of gyms, saunas, pools,'hydromassage', etc. Snazzy. And they have these all over the city! I'm going to go get a monthly pass today.
Yesterday the school treated all the teachers to a little cruise around the harbor here on a catamaran. It was a lovely view and enjoyed some nice sangria. When climbing out to sit on the ropes at the front of the boat, the wind blew up my dress and everyone saw my underwear. Classy move at a meet-the-staff-and-talk-to-your-bosses event. I also thought I was perhaps going to throw up, as the ride was surprisingly bumpy. But I didn't! I consider that a personal success that I made it through the journey without vomiting in front of all of my new co-workers. I think I turned a few shades of green, though.
Then- dinner at an Indian restaurant! Pretty good food- very spicy-- which was good because as great as the food is here, it is definitely NOT spicy. The Spanish (and Catalans) don't really do spicy. So it was nice to have a little heat in the food...although it meant that I proceeded to get EVEN WARMER throughout my body.
I promise in the next post I will shut up about the heat.
Here are some photos of the boat trip and new co-workers. Also, a photo of the mosaic mural outside of our school.
Also- in some other news- I have now successfully been able to find our tiny street in the tiny, cavern-like streets of the old city by myself, at night, on two occasions. On only one of these did I get briefly and hopelessly lost.
In some less-then-lovely news, I saw my THIRD robbery this week. This time, it was a German tourist (who was dressed very much like a tourist) whose wallet was snatched out of his backpocket. Amazingly, he (the tourist) jumped out of the metro and grabbed the robber around the neck and succeeded in getting his wallet back! Earlier in the week someone was robbed directly in front of our apartment-- we heard someone yell and then the thump thump thump of someone running, very fast, down the street. Then every person in the buildings on either side of our street stuck their heads out and started shouting "thief! thief! thief!" as he ran down the street. No one caught him but it was good to see how collectively everyone reacted. The down side, though, was that after the robber was gone our neighbors across the street (whose balconies across the tiny street are almost close enough to touch) started shouting horrible racist epithets after the guy. And then two older couples on two different balconies proceeded to have a lengthy and horrific conversation about "damn immigrants" that was directly focused on Middle Easterners. I will not repeat here the unbelievable derogatory terms that were bandied about. Let's just say-- it was a moment that I wished that I understood LESS Spanish.

A hot day in Sitges

On Saturday, a journey to Sitges by the Mediterrean sea...a beautiful city with unbelievable charm and cuteness, slightly besmirched by the billions upon billions of mostly naked vacationers. Wait- correction- quite besmirched indeed. I don't think I've ever seen so many shiny tanned chests of both gender varieties. Also, lots and lots of tiny, tiny, TINY bathing suits. Mostly tiny bathing suits on men, which, honestly, are really not that attractive. Even if said man has a nice body, I really don't need to see the whole kit-and-kaboodle whilst I'm trying to eat my lunch. If you get my drift. Anyhoo..very nice location, far too much European skin...but all in all, a lovely day. We were there for a lunch with our new school director and all the new staff. The food was amazingly delicious-- and absurdly plentiful. We started the meal with serving after serving of tapas, which was followed by a paella and dessert. So as the naked, shiny, men milled around us, we waddled home stuffed with food.
Also it was hot. Very hot. Baking-in-bright-blazing-sun hot. I know, I know, I was planning to move to Chennai, India, who am I to complain about heat? And we spent the summer roasting in 95 degree East Coast humidity. But somehow the hot here is...hotter. I can't explain it. In the shade, it's quite comfortable, but the sun has a burning hot force that makes your skin feel like it's going to crisp and fry right on your body. Perhaps it is because there is little humidity so there is no thick coating between us and the sun-- it's just bright, blazing, glaring sun.
And the buildings in Sitges being all white probably doesn't help.
It's also been pretty hot in Barcelona. Today is better, but Sunday and Monday we roasted to the point of melting in our tiny little un-airconditioned little pod of an apartment. In the old streets, our building is only a few feet away from the other side of the street, so there isn't much space for breeze to blow in. So, at the moment, I am sitting here on the coach with the fan pointed directly at my face. It's actually pretty comfortable, as long as I don't move away from the fan's direct blow.
Also started orientation for new staff this week! More on that later. The school seems great and all is well. The only hitch at the moment is my typical inability to hang paper on the bulletin boards in my classroom. Seriously- I have some sort of cutting/paper hanging/stapling learning disability. It's a serious issue. No matter how hard I try, I can't even hang the darn things straight. I can try and try and try- but the posterboards or paper are ALWAYS CROOKED. Or I manage to make it straight and then promptly tear a big giant hole right in the middle. Or I run out of matching border EXACTLY in the middle, leaving a big yucky looking empty space. I don't know how other teachers do it. I gaze with sad envy and the gloriously elegant and clean-looking walls and posters of my fellow elementary school teachers. It's like they all took a How To Decorate Your Classroom Without it Looking Like a Small Tornado Ate All of The Wallpaper And/Or Chewed up the Desk class that somehow I missed.
All of my former students can attest that this is, in fact, the case. I remember my former student Fadwa once standing at my desk, one hand on her hip, holding up a metal spatula she had just found in an assorted pile of stuff on my teacher desk. "A spatula? Rebekah? Why on earth is there a spatula on your desk?" And, honestly, I had no answer. She shook her head at me and sighed. I'm hopeless. Truly hopeless.
And Michael Zimmerman, my former co-teacher, often despaired at my inability to hang things in not-crooked ways. I would try so hard to hang the paper right- trying to align the edges and everything- and he would look at what I had done and sigh and say (in his always gentle and nice Michael-Zimmerman-way), "It's all right. Why don't I just do it?"
I really am a good teacher. Really. I just can't hang things right. It's a special disease that I suffer from. I don't know what it is- but it seems incurable. Perhaps someone could give me a special tutorial someday? Teach me? Help me?
Anyway. Here are some pictures of Sitges. No pictures of crooked paper-hanging, sorry.

New home!!!

Here are pictures of our new apartment- on the little street "Calle de Menoc"-- in the Ribera neighborhood, near Parc de la Citudella and the Arc de Triompf (obviously the one in Barcelona, not the one in Paris, ha ha). We love love love our new little home, with its character features, such as a high ceiling and original tile floors. We even have a little balcony to hang our laundry from and put out a few plants! The street it's on is too narrow for cars to pass, but there is moto and foot traffic. The area around our apartment seems to be a mix of a North African, Pakistani, and Latin American community. Right around the corner from our place is a huge playground where yesterday about a million kids were playing, shouting to each other in a cacaphony of different languages. On our street there are a few little markets for frutas y verduras, (fruits and vegetables!) and even a Uruguayan bakery right across from our building. The area about four blocks south of us, El Born, has more bars and restaurants and such. We're also just a twenty/ thirty minute walk from the beach! And the Santa Catarina market isn't far.
In these pictures you see the view of the living room/dining room with the skinny door to the bedroom visible. I forgot to take a picture of the kitchen, which is just around the corner. It's pretty tiny...and with just two little burners, no oven, but it's actually more roomy than our ridiculous slanted-ceiling kitchen in Vancouver! So we'll make do. In the kitchen there's a laundry machine! Yay!
Yesterday we made the first trip to the new place with our luggage, navigating the many steps up and down into the metro carrying our suitcases. Actually, I should correct that statement: Michael did most of the lugging up and down the steps. Yes, I know, I shouldn't let the man do all the work-- the feminist in me knows not to just let him carry everything. But, honestly, I couldn't even lift one suitcase even up one step. You can say it. I'm a wimp. I have no upper body strength at all. I'm lucky I can carry my head around on my shoulders.
But Michael grabbed on to our two fifty pound bags and ran like mad up and down several flights of stairs. It was impressive.
Now just a few more trips today and we'll be all moved in!
Meanwhile, today is our last Spanish class! It's been great, but an interesting challenge. My Spanish is, ahem, a bit worse than I thought it was. All the sweet Costa Ricans would nod and smile and have conversations with me as if I wasn't making a total fool out of myself when I opened my mouth. But, apparently, there is a lot I don't know. A LOT. And the Ticos were being mighty generous to pretend that I wasn't speaking like a two year old. Perhaps they were laughing at me after I left the room? "Ha ha, that Rebekah, she thinks she makes sense but she really doesn't make a lick of sense. Ha ha ha." Let's hope they weren't thinking that.
Also, now there are so many words that I used in Costa Rica that sound very formal and exceedingly polite to the Spanish. Our Spanish teacher actually did a little imitation of me saying "Quisiera" at a restaurant in which he pretended he was a cutsy little girl batting her eyelashes. Quisiera means "I would like"-- very similar, I thought, to "je voudrais" in French, but apparently the meaning here in Spain is more like-- "If it would please you to possibly honor me with this thing that I'm asking for?" (not an exact translation, but that is the gist). In Spain, it is perfectly okay to say to a waiter, instead, "I want this!" or even "Give me this!" ("Quiero esto" "Me pone un cafe...Me da un barra de pan", etc) And yes- for those of you who speak Spanish- you can use "poner" to mean "give me this" even though the exact translation of the verb is "to put." "Put this in front of me" I guess is the idea. But you only use that sometimes, depending on the situation. More commonly, I think, "Me trae" is used, meaning "bring over to me." Or I could be wrong about that. As I mentioned above, Rebekah's Spanish is that of a not-too-verbal toddler. So what do I know?