Anyways...I'll start at the beginning, I guess. San Isidro. To explain this holiday in a detailed manner, I'd have to show you pictures (see below). To explain without pictures, all I can say I have learned about it is that a.) it might be Madrid's Patron Saint holiday (maybe...not positive), b.) some schools got a day off school (unfair...mine didn't), but most importantly c.) I got time away from one of my horrid 2nd grade classes so really I can't complain. To give you the short explanation...it's like every bizarre Spanish sterotype ever heard mixed with a Russian roulette-style pastry assortment. Seriously look at this food setup (keep in mind this is just for 1st and 2nd grade & the chubbster kids had already attacked it before I arrived)
Okay so it's not that impressive but the kids had gotten ahold of most of it. Basically each student brought one item of "San Isidro" pastries (most were like donuts) and each one looked delicious...but after you tried one, it was too dry, or awkwardly tasted like licorice, or didn't have any taste at all. Some were okay, though. Each student wanted me to try one of whatever they brought, too, so it was like an endless nightmare of dry, tasteless, bread.
Anyways...(p.s. I say anyways a lot here don't I?...maybe that can be my catchphrase and/or book title if I ever sell out & publish [read: Oprah discovers me or something equally miraculous and I pursue a lifestyle and career I never dreamt of but immediately fall in love with....it could happen])
So...anyways...
I took this lovely aerial shot of the chaos and hurried downstairs so I didn't miss anything good or crazy.
I arrived just in time. As soon as I left the doorstep I was was flooded with ten panic-stricken girls who needed me to tie their scarves on their head again, or pin their flowers in their hair. I thought what the hell, can't be that hard...so I start tying scarf after scarf after scarf. If you ask me, they all looked like little babushkas.
Total babushka.
After the scarves I started with the flowers...each girl had 8 bobby pins for her flower which I didn't understand. I tucked the red/white/pink rose by their ear and tried to utilize all 87 bobby pins, so proud of myself for jumping head-first into Spanish culture & winning! Finally I get to the last girl in line, one of my cute, well-tempered 1st graders. I put her flower in, finally get the last bobby pin in, smile, and say "done! Beautiful!" She felt it, to make sure it was sturdy, and screamed one decibal below "total bloody murder" while ripping out all 901 bobby pins at once, including the fake rose, a clump of hair, and some skin particles that used to be attached to the loose hair strands. "IT DOESN'T GO THERE!!!! IT GOES HERE!!" she squealed as she adamantly pointed to her forehead-ish area. I said, "here?" as I tried to move it back an inch so it was cute and didn't resemble a rhinoceros' horn. "NOOOOOOOOO!! HERE!!" pointing to the horn locale, still. She looked at me with this face of disbelief (that I didn't get it), disapproval (for making her look so "ridiculous"...) and aggravation for not catching on despite her subtle hints, waving the stupid rose and smashing it on her forehead like she wanted it.
In the end I said fine and 786 bobby pinned the horn to Triceratops' head. As she walked away, finally approving of my shoddy Spanish flower work, I realized THAT'S why there's so many damned bobby pins....creating a floral horn is against God's intent for hair and the human head.
As a side note, I saw a flamenco poster last week. Turns out Triceratops was right. Still doesn't look any less stupid though....even on a professional dinosaur-- er, dancer.
After that crazy Friday we had one normal week and then a field trip...otherwise known as an "excursion"...personally I find excursion more fitting, because field trip sounds so tame. However, the appropriate term I'd give it in English would be "glorified shit show." From the very beginning to the very end...complete chaos.
So...before this shenanigan even began, I was not actually told that I was going. I asked what I was supposed to do (3 of my classes were going on one field trip, 1 class was going on a different one, and the last class was staying at school). I asked my teacher, Isabel, and she said just ask the principal if I could go. I asked the principal, Manoli, and she said I could do whatever I wanted, just to tell the other teachers so they knew. I asked her what I should do to confirm my place on the buses or whatever, and she told me to talk to Isabel. Who then told me to ask Manoli. Hello, Spain. Somebody was in charge of the buses...somebody had to order them and knew who was going and how many spots were available. Nobody knew who that person was. Apparently my school is like Hogwarts where magical buses just show up when they're needed. Whatever. This is Spain, which means you probably have to order the buses three separate times just to confirm, and then they will probably show up within the same week you ordered...probably.
I asked like five times, to numerous people going, and the teachers were like "ehh...there should be room. If not, we'll punish someone and you'll go! No worries!"
That brings me to the second hilarious part about the field trip. It was for 1st cycle of Primary, which means 1st (yay!!!!!!!) and 2nd (shotgun to the face) graders. I know I've explained my dislike for my 2nd graders but I'm not sure I've explained that it's not just me. All of the teachers feel the same way. Which makes me feel better. A lot better. They think they're just a bad batch. I feel like that's highly unlikely, that 75 children born in the same year are all miscreants...but...on the other hand I'm relieved. I was afraid my little angel babies in 1st grade would mutate over the summer and break my heart in the Fall.
Anyways the teachers were trying really hard to punish the six main troublemakers of 2nd grade. Four had already committed enough offenses to be banned from field trips for the rest of their lives, and the remaining two were hanging on by a thread. It was Wednesday, and the classes were on a point system. Each student had 10 points, and if they misbehaved or didn't turn in their homework, etc., they lost a point. If they lost all of their points, no field trip. Ruben was down to one point left, and Josue had two. They were so sure that within two days time they could wash their hands of them on the excursion but they were also giddy about me & the space issue so they would have a safety net, so to speak.
After experiencing the field trip, I understand why they were so eager to sift out the bad seeds ahead of time. Let's do some math:
7 teachers
150 students
0 parental chaperones
1 giant ass park the size of a small city
0 safety waivers
0 buses after they dropped us off
2 bathrooms (1 boy, 1 girl)
+ 0 rolls of toilet paper
______________________________
total chaos
The school rented two charter buses and one small bus (which, p.s. was suuuuuuuuuuuper nice!! So much better than dinky yellow school buses). The kids got dropped off at school and waited in line (all wearing absurd baseball caps just because they could, and Spaniards don't believe in sunscreen. Sunscreen here costs 10 euros for one bottle of SPF 30. That's like $15.) It took us an hour to simply leave, and 30 mintues of that was just getting on the bus. Most of the time was making sure all of the kids were accounted for. There's no method for counting, just simply remembering who was in each class.......ABSURD. No rosters. No class numbers. Just memory.
Anyways, when the students finally got their lunches and were sort of organized (I use that term loosely), we left through the nuns' back door to get on the buses. I climbed the stairs, trying to keep all of the children with the group and not off wandering the streets of Madrid, when I saw it. It was horrifying. All of the mothers had dropped the kids off at the front door, and then flooded to the side door to create a human tunnel (sort of) for the students. Except it wasn't to high five them and say good luck...it was to kiss them goodbye, and hug them, and give them extra jackets (even though it was 75 outside), and give them more food...it was so...I just have no words. Actually I do have words.
CUT. THE. UMBILICAL. CHORD.
Spanish parents are the WORST. On some level, I enjoy them because they all walk their kids to school and kiss them goodbye and tell them they love them...without worrying about the kids being embarrassed or angsty. However...there's a fine fine line between affectionate and obsession. For example, there are three main doors to enter my school. The first is a gate that let's you onto the property. The next is a door you have to buzz in order to get in (usually open for students in the morning). Then, there is the last and final door...the clingiest door of all. It goes beyond the welcome foyer, and actually ENTERS the school. Parent's aren't allowed past this point. I think it's perfectly appropriate to come through the front gate but any further seems like the parents are literally hanging on to every inch of their kids' childhoods and is taking it a bit too far. I get elbowed atleast five times each morning trying to bust my way through clingy mothers. As a side note, THIS is why Spaniards live at home until they are 31. True fact. Spanish men also act like babies. CUT THE CHORD WOMEN. You're not doing them any favors here...ugh. Serious pet peeve.
So, we fought the mothers, all of their absurd questions that should have been answered atleast 24 hours before the field trip, not 40 minutes after we were supposed to have departed. Finally, fiiiinally, we started the bus and headed away from Madrid. That adventure, and many more, will have to be told soon. Part 2 will be posted, probably Monday-ish. This weekend my host mom has lent Kiely & Katie & I her beach house in Valencia, and another friend from Alcala is lending us his TomTom. Basically....this weekend is going to be full of swimming, sun, and lots of crazy adventures in a manual car (I'm sure). Pray for me and make sure I post soon, I'm accumulating too many stories for my own good. Peace, love, and crazy pictures below.
My 4th graders decided to photobomb, haha
Oh my crazy kids. Check back later for more of our adventures.
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