'Hazirliq' means preparation=Private Tutoring.

Hazirliq is why 10th and 11th grade classrooms are almost always empty at my school. With the impending university exams after the completion of 11th grade, students who intend to go to college must go to private tutoring lessons in all of their subjects in order to pass.

This explanation is spot on. From mainstream education not being available any longer without supplemental education, dependency on private tutoring, its direct impact on citizenship and resulting socioeconomic divide, to teachers losing authority and feeling the need to supplement their meager public school teaching salaries, to nostalgia of the "good old Soviet days" and perhaps most striking of all--most people not recognizing this as injustice. This is how it works.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t8Vx48KtnWI

"How was Tanksween?"

My students asked me the day I returned to school following the short break I took to celebrate Thanksgiving in Baku. It took the fourth and fifth graders repeating 'tanksween' a few times for me to understand what they were trying to ask. Their blend of Halloween and Thanksgiving makes perfect sense from their perspective..they're both formerly unbeknownst American holidays (to them), they both happen around the same time of year, and they both involve pumpkins! By blending the names together, they had a 0% chance of being totally correct, a 100% chance of being half correct and most importantly, a 100% chance of me understanding their intention. I like their style. Plus, I was impressed they put together my three day absence from school with the holiday.

I introduced Thanksgiving at conversation club last week. I briefly talked about why we celebrate Thanksgiving, modern Thanksgiving day traditions, and of course, what type of food we eat. I emphasized that the most important part of Thanksgiving is for people to reflect on what things they are thankful for. As a little project, the younger students made headbands with "feathers" indicating the things they are thankful for. The older students traced their hands and feet, making "turkeys" to indicate the things they are thankful for. I told the older students I'd give a prize for someone who could write something that they are thankful for that no other student wrote. I decided the most original response was a toss-up between "my American pen pal" and "my clean air"!!

Here are some pictures from the younger students' Thanksgiving conversation club:

From the older students' Thanksgiving conversation club:

Half Time Reflections

Two whistle blows at 45:00 means half time. I can almost hear it now; a long, sliding, drawn out first whistle, followed by a second short, abrupt tweet. Out of habit, I look at the scoreboard to confirm the noise. Half time already? I ease out of my competitive game zone and realize I'm aching for water and a few minutes to rest. I jog over to the sidelines, grab a water bottle and head to the shade. With a deep breath, I think about my performance in the first half.  The next 45 minutes will either make or break the game as it stands now. Am I happy with what I've done so far?

The arrival of the next group of PCVs to Azerbaijan, and the departure of the group that arrived the year before us makes halftime nearly tangible. "Peace Corps halftime" is a unique position to be in, full of dichotomies at tension with each other. On the one hand, I see the group of enthusiastic, go-getter Az10's full of fresh energy and optimism for their next 27 months. It reminds me of being in the same place one year ago. Unknowing of what lie ahead, but over-the-moon excited for the opportunity to be a part of it all...living in a village, teaching English classes, starting clubs, coaching sports, integrating into host families, working with counterparts. I didn't really know what any of that even meant at the time; I just knew I wanted to learn and share and grow. On the other hand, I see the Az8's who, one year ago, was the group holding my hand, walking me through my first steps in Azerbaijan, now packing their bags and saying goodbye. While some people have been ready to go for months, counting down the days (hours..minutes..) to their close of service, others have dreaded their tear-filled goodbyes. Either way it's spun, leaving is weird. Either way, your 27 months in Azerbaijan have finished and service is over.

I've felt quite reflective during this halftime. I feel both the reminder of that fresh zeal for service characteristic of PCVs early on as well as the formidable foreshadow that this experience has an expiration date. Like the Az8's, my time in Azerbaijan will also end. These seemingly interminable days will one day seem like seconds passed on a ticking clock. What have I done during the first half? I've thought about these things as I stand in front of my students during our lessons. I look at their faces and try to remember if they looked the same last year. Are their little wheels turning inside their minds as I prompt them with these questions, or are they still just looking at me, watching me, taking note of every little thing they can capture by me standing there except for what I'm trying to teach them? Will it be different at this time next year?

I have no idea what I'll be thinking about at my close of service. You can't know how the second half ends until you've played it out. What I do know now is that I've come to find myself quite at home in this village. I have an affection for my students I feel could never be reciprocated under any other circumstances. Their relationship with me is different than their relationships with the other teachers. As I round the corner to return to school for conversation club in the afternoons, the 3rd and 4th graders still shriek, "Annie Teacher is coming, Annie Teacher is coming!!" and run the other way as fast as they can to inform the other students of my impending arrival. My best friend in my village is my 55 year old counterpart. Despite the great distraction from my teaching point, she'll still interrupt class, as I'm scolding a student in Azerbaijani for not paying attention or not bringing her notebook to our lesson, to compliment the improvement of my Azerbaijani language skills. I still encounter people on the regular who beg an explanation of me being here. Usually this comes in the form of roundabout questions. Where does your family live? How much money do you make? Which is better, America or Azerbaijan? Are you looking for a husband? Why don't you have your own family yet? Even after saying, "I'm living in Azerbaijan for two years because I am a Peace Corps Volunteer," the immediate response is never: what is Peace Corps? It's almost always a blank stare. I have to follow it up with: I teach English classes at my village's school. Only then do some people nod in partial understanding. So when people ask upon meeting me for the first time if I can marry an Azerbaijani boy and stay here forever, I respond accordingly without missing a beat. Experiencing the village culture on a daily basis demystifies these questions. Things that struck me as so odd once seem to somehow just fit naturally into the ebb and flow of my Peace Corps experience.

As this second half begins, I'm more excited than ever to be immersed in my activities. While the fall frisbee season has finished, (holler at my village's frisbee team for taking first place at the championship tournament!!) I have 3 conversation clubs, over 30 students writing letters to their American pen pals, FLEX prep, 15 classes, GLOW camp, and Ganja's Independent Women project to be involved in. I've also got some ideas for an art club and new sports to start in the spring. In addition, Peace Corps is sending a huge number of Az10s to the regions surrounding mine. I'll have a new site mate as well as 15 new 'western finger' mates. This is good news considering I like people and more PCVs=more friends, more Peace Corps familiarity in this area and more sources of brilliant, accessible ideas.

I'm ready for the second half. I'm thankful I made it to halftime in one piece, and I'm ready to take it home from here. After all, I only have 12 months left.


Here are some pictures I've taken at different times over the past month or so.

Dancing with my counterpart at a wedding.

So I can brush up on my Azeri while I'm getting dressed.

My bed

Workspace in my room.

At my friend, Caroline's host sister's wedding. 

The Americans with the lovely couple. 

The beautiful bride and handsome groom dancing together. 

Frisbee captains explaining what's up.

Me explaining what's up. 

 Chris Jones, a representative from the US Embassy, presenting the first place trophy.  

Celebrating! 

Persimmon Picking.

It's persimmon season in Azerbaijan, and when Kaklik told me she didn't think she'd be able to sell her persimmons this year because she's too old to climb up and pick the fruit at the top of the trees, I thought I may be of some assistance. I wasn't sure exactly what I was getting myself into, but I made a little routine to kind of make a game out of it.  

Step 1: Identify the spot with an abundance of persimmons. 

Step 2: Strategically position the ladder. 

Step 3: Climb up, rig your bucket on a sturdy branch, and began picking. Worry about sorting ripe/unripe/fit to be sold/unfit to be sold persimmons later. 

 Step 4: Don't fall off the ladder.

Step 5: Repeat Step 4.

Step 6: When your bucket's full, carefully unrig it from the tree and bring it down the ladder wrung by wrung. Secure your persimmons so they don't fall out of the bucket on the way down.  

Step 7: Carefully empty your bucket without bruising the fruit and spread out your persimmons bottom side up so you can tell if they're ripe. Persimmons with a big, black spot on the bottom are ripe. Fit to be sold persimmons are those that are unscathed and not quite ripe yet.

Step 8: Continue picking from your spot until you've picked all of the persimmons within your reach. Reposition the ladder and repeat!

Together, Kaklik and I gathered 19 crates worth of fit to be sold persimmons. She picked the fruit she could reach from the ground, while I scoured the tree tops. They were sold to men from our village who take them north to Russia to be sold there.  We set the rest aside to give to our neighbors, eat ourselves, or take back to compost. 

Halloween Comes to the Village!

On October 30th, 24 of my students, 2 of my site mates and I celebrated Halloween at my village school. While most of my students have read about Halloween in the holiday chapter of their 6th grade English textbook, it was the first time any of them had participated in the event. Students wore either costumes or masks, and participated in a series of Halloween-themed activities. We started by explaining the cultural aspects of the holiday (which ended up being a bit more difficult than I thought ie. answering questions like why do we have haunted houses?), talking about carving pumpkins, demonstrating trick or treating,  and giving examples of costumes. The students then all had a chance to  explain their costumes. Other costumes included a hunter, a cowgirl, a ghost, silly glasses, a princess, evil masks and masquerade masks. My favorite was one of my girls, wearing a red-sequined top hat, said her costume was "red hat" which is the literal English translation of the title Azeris have for the story all of my students are familiar with, Little Red Riding Hood. After the presentation, we played fluffy bunnies. One student, with 3-4 marshmallows in his/her mouth, had to say one of the new Halloween related words. The other students, in groups, had to write on their mini whiteboards, the correct words. My site mates and I got a kick out of a few of the responses. When the student with a mouth full of marshmallows said trick or treat, one group wrote out trick or threat. Another time, the student said cowboy, and one of the groups wrote out callboy. Both of these times, I really appreciated having my site mates their to appreciate the hilariousness of these teaching moments. Next, we played pin the face on the pumpkin. One blindfolded student had to listen to their classmates' instructions, guiding them to stick the eyes and mouth on the correct area of the pumpkin. This game had the kids laughing. We then divided the class into groups and they did a mummy wrapping competition. The objective was to be the first team to have a fully mummified "mummy" without leaving gaps or dropping toilet paper on the ground. After that, because I couldn't find any pumpkins in my village, students made mini luminaries out of their snack bags and lined them along the desks. Finally, students made Halloween friendship bracelets out of black and white yarn. In order to leave the classroom, students had to trick or treat their way out! I stood in the hallway, while students, one by one, knocked on the door, shouted "Trick or treat!", and went on their way with a piece of candy and a whole new understanding of this American tradition.

My Queen of Hearts costume!

Fluffy Bunnies.

TRICK OR THREAT. 

Snack bags turned luminaries. 

Pin the face on the pumpkin.  

Trick or treating.

Two of my awesome site mates: Danny and MaryEllen.