Here comes Chelsea Cottontail...

Hello world!

I am so excited for this upcoming week...I can't even explain it! First of all, it is Semana Santa...Holy Week...the week that Spaniards take off from school to celebrate Easter. To us Americans, it would be the equivalent of Spring Break, except everyone gets Spring Break at the same time. SPRING BREAK!! Actually, we get Friday off, then the whole next week, and then MONDAY too! Considering that all of my annoying classes (read: my 2nd grade classes) are on Monday & Friday, I'm ECSTATIC.

Spring Break will be glorious (I'm not going anywhere), but I'm more excited for these next four days before Spring Break. Jeri sent me 60 Easter eggs and I plan on using them to my full advantage. For my 1st grade classes through 4th grade, I'm going to explain a little bit about Easter in the USA and how it differs (here it is strictly a religious holiday) and then have a full fledged Easter egg hunt. I had my first one on Friday and it was AMAZING! I made the kids go out in the hallway and wait while I hid the eggs. Then they came back in and flipped out because they could see a few throughout the room. I made them sit down and explained some rules (so that all of the kids could find atleast one egg) and they kept yelling "I SEE SEVEN!!! I SEE NINE!!" It took all the effort I had to get them to calm down and tried to explain that in the United States, Easter is a religious holiday, but something else also happens. The Easter Bunny comes at night time after everybody is asleep, and hides eggs throughout the houses and yards for the children to find, and inside of the eggs (I showed that the eggs opened and they all gasped like I had just created fire....it was awesome) were little surprises. For one, I was super impressed because through drawing and acting, they understood everything that I was saying! But one little boy got a sad and said "but Chelsea...why doesn't the Easter Bunny come to Spain?" I immediately thought...well shit, there goes the happiness of Easter...BUT I think quickly on my feet so it all worked out. I asked "well...what does Santa drive? Does Santa have a car? (everybody yelled NOOO!!!!!!!!!!!) Well what does he drive? (A SLED!!!!!!!!!!) Yes, he has a sled, and magical reindeer, like Rudolph...well, the Easter Bunny doesn't have a car either...or a sleigh. He goes from house to house and he hops! Jumps! He doesn't have a boat either so he can't get over here in time....BUT this year I'm helping him, so I'M the Easter Bunny!" I had drawn a picture of a bunny on the board so I slouched down so that his ears were above my head. They absolutely loved it.

Haha....no wonder they think I'm so cool. I lie to them a lot.

So anyways each kid got to find their own Easter egg, one at a time, and had to tell me where it was before the could grab it (so..."next to the book"...or "in the box") They were appalled when I told them I had hidden 30 eggs in the room...20 students in the class plus 10 extra that were not visible. It was wonderful....except for the part when I'm smart, but not that smart....and forgot where I hid some of the eggs. I know, what the hell Chelsea. The class ended quickly and we weren't finished...but I also didn't know where the eggs were anyways so I told their teacher "you may or may not have eggs hidden somewhere in the classroom....sooooo if you find one, no big deal, it's yours! Good luck!" I felt pretty bad, though, because all of the kids were looking in every nook and cranny trying to find hidden eggs, and also didn't believe that infallible Chelsea forgot where she put them....that I was just playing hard to get. Well, kids...I wish. They also refused to go to recess because they wanted to keep looking for eggs that may or may not have existed. I felt pretty bad, haha, but in the end their teacher ended up finding one hidden behind her purse. She liked the candy and all of the kids were insanely jealous she stumbled upon it. That's almost as bad as the time I convinced them leprechauns were real (and really small) so for the two weeks following St. Patricks Day they all pointed to every little green object they could find and tried to determine if it was a leprechaun. Hehe.

P.S. here is a video my school made from the pictures from St. Patrick's Day...so adorable!


St Patricks - Primer Ciclo de Primaria from Colegio María Inmaculada on Vimeo.


There's no sound, just fyi.

Anyways, with my older kids I'm going to make them work a little harder. For 5th grade, after their animal project, I learned the hard way that I reeeaaaaally need to teach them how to say larger numbers. It's very difficult for them because in Spanish, the comma is a period and a period is a comma. So 5,9 means $5.90. 1.500 means 1,500. Plus most of them have difficulties with any number over 30. Soooo I'm going to put big numbers (and years) in an Easter egg and if they can tell me their number, I'll give them an egg with candy and a little fortune (I thought I would mix it up a little bit). I also might hide a few in the classroom just for fun. Then 6th grade is learning directions, so I'm going to make them have a full fledged scavenger hunt throughout the school. I'm SO EXCITED!!

I think my kids are excited too. This past week has been super crazy for everyone. First of all, I have been sick with bronchitis (still..) so I missed school on Monday and Tuesday. Before I went back to school on Wednesday, I prepared myself mentally for all of their harrassment. Usually they all run up to me and say "Chelsea!!! Monday....jew...no ees dare." And my usual response is "I know! I was the one who wasn't there!" Or they ask "Chelsea! Why jew no in class?" And I say "I was sick... :( " Most times they stare at me, like my answer wasn't good enough. So I cough a few times so they understand what sick is (because they pronounce it "seek") I get to school on Wednesday and they, of course, never cease to amaze me. A couple came up to me and said "Chelsea....jew no come Monday. Jew ees seek." (duuuuuh, I know! I'm still living it! Not to mention on Wednesday I was losing my voice from it all so I was clearly not healthy yet) My little ones were the funniest though. One kid came up to me with these big puppy eyes and said "Chelsea, jew no here Monday..." and I immediately began thinking "I know, I know...why you not here? I know..." but he finished with "....so are you ever going to come to our class again?" .....ughhh!!!!! Yes I'm coming to your class!! Another boy asked me "what days are you going to be coming to our class now? You didn't come on Monday.."

I hope I NEVER miss school again. Not to mention that missing two days in a row was Earth-shattering for everyone. Some of the teachers even told me "We thought we'd lost you!" ...really?? Ugh. Just...ugh.

Tonight is going to be a quiet night in with some pizza, a salad, and a movie. If I'm lucky, I'll also hang up my laundry and get some progress going on my Easter egg hunts. Such a luxurious life I lead, haha.

April Fools!! Bulldogs!! TINY DAFFODILS!....homework. Ugh.

What a crappy title, haha. It basically explains where I am in my Sunday, though.

Nothing super interesting has been going on lately. Not in comparison to the BULLDOGS GOING TO THE NCAA CHAMPIONSHIP AGAIN. Sigh. My little heart might explode over here in Spain. Not only are there no bars to watch the games here, nor hoards of friends to even watch the game with...the games air at about midnight or 1 a.m., and Spain doesn't even believe in basketball.

On top of that, I think I am a Butler jinx. For example, while watching the game against Florida, we started off strong and then 5 minutes later we were trailing by something heinous like 10. So I stopped. I kept the page up in the background on my laptop but I demanded that Katie's friend Echo update me on the score. And I would peek every once in awhile (every 3 minutes approximately). And everytime I would peek Echo would yell, "CHELSEA! Are you looking?! They just screwed up, stop!" So I banned myeslf from the game and watched episode after episode of Sabrina the Teenage Witch. But look, it paid off!! We won!!

Same for the VCU game last night. But I wasn't watching Sabrina.

I got home from school on Friday (a pretty decent Friday at that...Fridays are usually pretty rough) to a massive box from my mom!!! It's HUGE!! It's full of Eastery goodness. She sent me jelly beans, Easter eggs, a yoga DVD, shoes, sandals, makeup, flashcards for my kids, a present for one of my teachers, 4 I Spy books, and....TINY DAFFODILS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

No joke, I almost cried. I almost cry everytime I look at them. I love them. And I love my mom. I've been pretty homesick lately. It's the Final Four excitement mixed with the fact that I miss my family and friends. And there's three months left, haha. AND we haven't had Spring Break yet. I need a break...

Anyways....beyond the TINY DAFFODILS!! (they're silk for the record), let's focus on the I Spy books. I've been debating for awhile if those are more for the kids....ooooor for me. I was trying to explain the books to my teachers and they have never seen them before. I guess they never got translated for Spanish use. But those books are SO COOL! I've been obsessed since I got the box. I was supposed to call my mom after school at 5:30 but didn't get to calling her until around 7 because that's how long it took me to open everything and pull my nose out of the books. Tee hee. AND it's even better because when you get stuck, you can probably find the answer now on the Internet. Sometimes you can't, though. I STILL can't find a stupid anchor on one of the pages.....so freakin tricky... Once I get done with them, though, I'm going to use them with my private classes and see if I can also figure out how to use them in the classroom.

So...during the VCU game, I kept checking the score but refused to look until I found an object in one of my I Spy books. Haha. God, I'm like a 10 year old. I also colored a Butler banner that hangs outside of my door. I put pictures of last year's Final Four excitement too. A picture of the big shoe at the pep rally downtown, the Final Four banner on the Artsgarden, and our interview at Hinkle with Kent for FOX 59.

Hmmm, what else. Oh yes, April Fools came and went. :( I did my best here but it just isn't the same as pranking atleast 20 girls at Pi Phi. I also don't have Starbucks supplies to use this year....those were great last year. Here I stuck to some basics...I scraped the cream out of Oreos and put toothpaste in instead. I put big bubble wrap under the toilet and continually changed it so it would keep popping whenever anybody sat down. (This was actually a great idea in theory but kinda bit me in the ass...my roommates took a nap after school Friday, so I rushed in and set up the trap. I laid down too, talked to my mom on Skype, and then tried take a nap as well...but no luck. I really had to pee...but, couldn't, because they hadn't set off the bubble wrap. And I've never been really good at hovering...always makes a mess...so I essentially boobie-trapped myself out of the bathroom. Fail. I held it, because I'm a champion. Gotta make sacrifices sometimes for the good of the holiday). I also found out my roommate Juliet is really jumpy, so I hid around corners and just jumped out randomly when she was leaving the bathroom, turning a corner...etc...and yelled APRIL FOOLS!!! Hahaha...such a cheap trick but I was thoroughly pleased with myself. I should have hidden in her closet...

Anywho. My 5th graders presented their animal projects last week. I was super impressed! Most of them just copied information from Wikipedia word for word (I was immediately aware when the students used words like "hibernate", "cartilaginous skeleton", and "substantial exoskeleton". Oh well.) but I was still pleased because they were able to answer my small questions....like what do they eat? Where do they live? Or I would ask a question about their interesting facts they wrote about. The teacher even hung them up in the classroom windows so anybody that walks by sees their projects. They were so excited! This is also a hard task, though, because Spaniards do projects a little differently than we do. Construction paper and puffy paint is not easily accessible here....construction paper is, but it's pretty expensive (not super cheap and easy like in the States). Puffy paint is absolutely unheard of. Paint in general is not really heard of. What the kids do have a lot of is Play-Doh, glittery glue sticks, and markers. Sooo....most of the posters had some printed pictures of animals, a lot of random glitter all over (I support), a hand-drawn picture of their animal.....and then usually they take Play-Doh and create a picture ON the posterboard. So...I don't know, it's super weird. They just stick the Play-Doh to the posterboard. Sometimes it's flat, and sometimes it's not. Those were interesting to hang on the windows, haha.

Anyways, almost all of the projects went off without a problem. One girl even made a Powerpoint Presentation! With sounds! The only problem we really had was that some of them DID take information directly off the Internet...without really understanding it....and it was in English. I was really impressed they tried to read English articles! Most of them used Google Translator....and those paragraphs are really easy to tell because they don't make any sense. The ones who used original English articles were easy to tell...because it was so well written...and they had no idea what it said. For example, Sexy Boy (remember him? Otherwise known as Black Strong?) had chosen the horse. So he was rambling about horses...blah blah...and then started asking "how do you say 1978? 1990? 2002? 2014?..." etc. I was so confused. I went over to look at his poster and read his paragraph that said "If you are born a Horse, you are strong and confident. Gemstone is topaz and is a symbol of war and courage. Falls on the years..."

Ah. He had stumbled upon an entire article about the Chinese year of the Horse. Sooooo rather than explain he had the wrong "horse", I tried to explain to the class that some years in China are classified by animals, like our zodiac signs, and the Horse is a sign of strength and courage. They understood but as soon as I said "China" their eyes glazed over. They could care less about anything Chinese...

Another .... err, "fun" presentation was about crocodiles. Most of the kids wrote about diet, appearance (length and weight), and random facts about their animal like how far they could jump or why they're endangered. A few directly followed the internet webpages they found...so crocodiles. Miguel, this fun, energetic ginger kid, was super embarrassed and didn't want to read his project out loud. I told him he had to. Everybody else did. Plus his pictures were very interesting. So he gets up there and starts reading about crocodiles. His poster had a lot of information...so I knew it was going to take a little bit. At first he talked about where they lived and what they ate. Then he started the big paragraph of his poster.

85% of his poster was about crocodile reproduction.

I don't know how he stumbled upon whatever website he was on, but he literally talked about the (literal) in's and out's of crocodile sex for about 5 minutes. It was SO PAINFUL. Mainly because I was the only one in the classroom listening to the horrific things he was saying. I mean it was all scientific, mostly....kinda. I asked him what he thought the paragraph was about and he said he liked it because it was about crocodiles killing other crocodiles, because it said "mate" a lot. Matar in Spanish is to kill...mate would be subjunctive. Ugh. So I smiled and nodded. It's actually about the exact opposite...

My favorite sentence from his poster was, "The male may actually mate with the same female several times during the breeding season to ensure that he fertilizes her right after she ovulates. Males actually often try to make with other males, and females do the same with other females. Threesomes are not uncommon either!"

..............speechless. I think I snorted when I heard him read this.



Anyways, luckily for you all, I made the kids turn in a sheet with their information. I looked up his information on Google and found the website he was citing. If you'd like, you can read ALL of the information that he read to the class outloud. All of the disgusting, painful details about crocodile reproduction.

http://w3.shorecrest.org/~Lisa_Peck/MarineBio/syllabus/ch9vertebrates/reptilesandbirds/repbirdwp/barbara/repro.html

If I never hear about crocodiles again, I'll be perfectly content.

Chelsea reaches infamy

So before I go into my new blog post, I need to add a couple of details to my last one. Remember when the Nun & I were talking about "yobs"? Well I played this game with them where I wrote on the board "Victoria is a vet. Brian is a basketball player. Tom is a...?" And they had to give me jobs starting with the person's name. At first it was a bit of a shit show with the kids constantly yelling the 8 vocabulary words in the book..."teacher!!! doctor!!! dentist!!!! footballer!!! vet!!!!" ......noooo, think outside of the box. So I wrote a list of popular careers beforehand and made them push themselves. By the end, they kept begging for more people. One girl kept saying "hair dresser!" without understanding the game, so I threw her one. I wrote "Harold is a...?" thinking there was only one answer. I kept waiting and waiting for her to give her answer (she'd thrown it out about 50 times before...) and nothing. Nobody could think of anything either, until one girl raised her hand and shouted "husband!".......................HAH. I literally rolled my eyes at her and tried to explain that a job has to earn you money as well as be a pain in the butt. They laughed. I think they understood the joke. Even better was in a different class when I wrote "Chelsea is a...?" and they all said "Teacher!!!" .....okay guys, follow the rules. That's what I get for being so selfish, haha. So I changed to "Carol is a...?" and none of them could think of comedian or construction worker. They all were literally reading their dictionaries trying to come across any word that could be a job. One girl walked up and she said "Ca-ho-leek?" I looked at her severely confused, thinking...car leak? Mechanic? Frustrated, she switched to Spanish and said, "no!! Catholic!!" .......baahahahaha. Once more, not a profession. Lifestyle, maybe...but...no. Hilarious.

Maybe this won't be a short post after all...but hey look I'm posting more regularly!! *Knock on wood* Anyways this week is going to be a long, long week. Last week seemed pretty short, because life seemed to get back to normal after Steph left, AND it was "Cultural Week" so there were a lot of activities to break up all of my classes. One of those activities was a "tombola"...which, basically, was a carnival with a raffle. Starting at 11 a.m., all of the classes were let out and there was a full out carnival all throughout the school. The week before, the older students had asked different grade levels to bring in different food or toys....such as Nutella, bread, toys (brand new or lightly used), jewelry, snacks...etc. I figured they were going to have a huge toy drive or donation or something at the end because I've (sort of recently) learned that my school is not only a Catholic school, but built into a huge convent. And this convent is part of a chain of convents, if you will, founded by the same nun dude a long long time ago. So....that's why the metro stop by my school is called "Churches", basically. Because there's a bajillion churches and convents around. My convent/school/nuns even have their own food bank where homeless and hungry people come in the morning and line up for blocks to get (really good smelling) food in the morning. I like to think of my nuns as a Walmart or SuperTarget of nuns. They've got it all!

Not that I have anything to do with that but it makes me feel proud. All the nuns (except for Colonel Nun) are like abrasive grandmothers who kiss you and bless you a lot. And then I'm sweet because they think I can't speak Spanish. Probably better that way.

Anyways...the Tombola. I got to school feeling really ill on Thursday (I developed self-diagnosed bronchitis last week and the medicine I found made me queasy) and I kept fighting a high fever for days. I was really upset to be sick on this epic day, though, so I went to class and tried to fight it out. My kids don't really know the definition of sick though. Last week one of my students was astounded to see me in class. He ran up to me and said "I thought you weren't going to be here!! My sister said you were sick yesterday!" I looked at him funny and asked why she thought I was sick? He said, "well she told me you wear contacts...I thought you weren't going to come in!" I guess contacts aren't big here...and most people wear glasses...(I didn't notice)...because the nun yelled at him and told him "SUT UP, don't esay teengs like dis. Ess berry rude." I looked at the kid and I said "yes...I wear contacts! But that doesn't mean I'm sick!" and ALL of my students gasped like I had the Bubonic Plague. And then immediately rushed up to stare in my eyeballs to try to see the little blue line of my contacts.

...and I wonder how I get so damned sick and so often.

Don't even get me started on that. I know how. Exactly how. Besides the little nose-pickers who are also the most inclined to hug me (Murphy's law), there is also this innate ability in children to come up with the absolute dumbest ideas. Let me just tell you a little side story. Last week in class I was trying to teach 2nd grade (which please keep in mind, I HATE. All of them are little devils. Seriously. Awful) and they kept playing with their tape or something and making their pencils stick to their hands. And they act like I can't totally see them doing this. I walked over to the Head Brat's desk and said "MIGUEL. Put the tape away. NOW." Blank stare. Of course, their first go to when I yell. "But I don't understand English!!" *puppy face* ....yeah right. You're to evil to be so innocent all of a sudden. I said "Celo. Tape? Put it away"....and he whined about not using tape and he didn't do anything, blah blah blah. Fine, whatever. Just put your pencil away. Two seconds later he's picking something else up, like his eraser or something and acting like he can do a magic trick because look, it's sticking to his hand!! First of all, I'm not impressed. Second of all, I said put the tape away. He said he still didn't have any tape so I took his pencil. And his eraser. And told him to stare at the book. Soon enough six other kids are doing this unimpressive magic trick so I get frustrated and yell at all of them that I said no tape!! And they say they have no tape. Of course. Stupid little liars! They think they're smarter than me. Right. So anyways I assign some homework and keep a coy eye on the little suckers just waiting to see a tape dispenser come out of the woodwork.

What they were doing was.....ugh. Disgusting.

Finally one took the bait and said, "Hey, watch this!!" He took his hands, cupped them together, and then spit into his palms. Rubbed his hands together, and then was able to press hard enough to his pencil that the thin layer of saliva made shit stick to his hands. And by that point about ten other students were doing the same thing. I could literally hear all of them spitting in their hands and rubbing them together. Including this impulsive kid who always insists on giving him numerous high-fives. Gross. Absolutely....gross. I'm not touching those little worms again. Inventive? Yes. Does it make me want to vom? Oh hell yes.

So....anyways the mystery of my sickness is pretty much solved. But I endured anyways so I could go to the carnival. They had hot dogs for sale, cokes, pastries, snacks, and a crap ton of jewelry, scarves, clothes, books, and toys for sale....they had literally taken the donations from the kids and were selling them at this carnival!! I'm assuming they were going to eventually donate the money, but...I'm just not quite sure that was the right way to go about it?! I mean....right?! Donate all of that stuff!! I don't think second-hand places are as popular here but they pretty much set up their own Goodwill for the kids and all of the kids had brought like 20 euros to school to spend on junk food and crap like this. They also had face painting, a haunted house, a dance/talent competition, and other games. The BEST idea they had were penalty kicks. They roped off one of the soccer goals to indicate point values based on where you hit the goal (if any) and charged 40 cents per kick. Now that seems legit to me, to make a profit...not selling donations. My 6th grade students were waiting in line for the Haunted House (which was slightly scary, I'm guessing, because all of my little 1st graders kept going in and coming out bawling...like hysterics...) and I wasn't going to go, but they bought me a ticket. So I waited in line with them for awhile, probably like 45 minutes, and gave the boys "tattoos" with a Sharpie I had in my pocket (they were thrilled, free tattooes!!) I really didn't want to go in the haunted house (tis not the season) but luckily by the time I got to the door, one of the girls had lost her ticket so I gave her mine and she was able to go in. One of my students bought me a hot dog (and put mustard on it...yuck) which was super cute. It's the one who has the crush on me apparently. I was trying to figure out how to eat the hot dog (not exactly the most manageable food) and he goes "Chelsea, you'd better like that hot dog!!! I stood in line for 45 minutes waiting for it!!" ....hahaha. Sad but very true fact. Anyways, while we were waiting in line I took a little video of the insanity:



I grabbed Juliet, because she was feeling sick too, and was suddenly inspired to show off my soccer skills over at the penalty shots. First of all, the range was very close so I knew I couldn't dick it up that badly. Secondly, it was all of my older male students that were creating the long ass line, so I knew I could cut and get in quickly. We bought 3 tickets to shoot (because Juliet wanted to try too) and before I went over I grabbed all of my students I could to come watch me. She thought that was a bad idea, asking "um...are you sure you want to do that? What if you suck?" Good thing I've got a big ego and skill to back it up! Luckily Juliet chickened out before we got over there (probably due to the assanine amount of my students surrounding me, and the fact that her kids were the ones running the booth) so I got all three kicks to myself.

I think this was my favorite moment of my life thus far.

So I had gathered all my kids. Plus when I asked the boys if I could cut, they all agreed (laughing at me thinking I would suck) and managed to tell all of their other little brat friends to come watch me bite it. I didn't exactly take into account that the goal was super close to a window....the window has wrought iron bars around it, but never the less...windows. Very close. Right behind the goal that does not have a net. So I have to push my kids back so I can get a running start. Doing so creates a little tunnel of my students, and they all start cheering for me. "CHELSEA!! CHELSEA!!! CHELSEA!!!" I kick the first one, and it pounds right into the 8 point hole (next to one of the top corners, worth the highest points, 10) and subsequentially that window I forgot was behind it. Luckily it bounced off of the iron bars but the speed/force was a bit more than they were anticipating, by far. They all go NUTS, because they had no idea I used to play soccer. This gathers more people, plus the fact that all of them are screaming "Chelsea" at the top of their lungs and everyone is wondering what the hell is going on. By the 2nd kick, this entire half of the playground was filled with my students. After discussing with my boys, who are now flabbergasted and in total shock, I decide to go for a corner. I kick it, to twice as much screaming as before "CHELSEA....CHELSEA....CHELSEA!!!" and the damn thing hits the cross bar in the corner, missed by about an inch. However, it hit the bar so hard that it made quite a noise which amped up the guys even more...plus the fact that it almost hit one of them in the face on the rebound. For the third one, it was quite like the first one which even more cheering and it went in an 8 point hole I think. It was the most exciting moment of my life. I felt like such a BADASS. And now all of my students think I am the epitome of cool. They're still talking about it and apparently I came in 2nd in the penalty contest. I guess they were averaging the scores of people and I came in 2nd. HAH. Incredible!!

All of a sudden I felt unbelievably better. Fame, even at such a minute level, feels sooo good.

This blogpost is rated IA: for immature audiences only.

While I am writing this I am drinking a "smoothie"....I will never order American-based food here ever again. I should have known I was in trouble when the girl asked if I wanted "all milk"...I was like um, as opposed to...? "Half milk, half water?" Right. All milk, please...

Poor decision. It tastes like half and half mixed with strawberry syrup for sundaes...and I think that's what it is, in all actuality. At one point it had ice but she blended it for 5 minutes on "puree", so...no more ice. Just foam. I literally feel like I'm directly sucking from the teat of a strawberry-ish cow. Ugh.

This week, in 4th grade, we've been discussing the topic of "What do you want to be?" with the nun...and the kids are learning job vocabulary (footballer [i.e. soccer player], nurse, doctor [cause we're sexist here...], vet [pronounced "bet"], singer, etc.). They always ask me, "Chelsea, do you want to be a teacher?" and at first I panic, because I feel like yes should be the obvious answer. And saying, "well it's my fall-back option, or Plan B" might seem a bit...you know, discouraging. But, when confronted with such things, and I feel guilty, I can't lie, so I tell them I want to be a translator. At first they're super impressed, but then become taken aback and think I'm a bit stupid to become a translator when I only speak English. I guess it would be pretty dumb to become a translator when I "don't speak any Spanish". Oh well. We crossed this bridge back when they asked me what my favorite subject was and I said "Spanish...uh, Spanish....English."

Everyone's always asking me if I want to be a teacher soon (after Spain) and quite honestly I don't think I'm mature enough. I giggle when my kids accidentally say bad words and I would rather they love me than be an authority figure. And again, I'm super immature.

For example, one of my kids came up to me today and said, "Chelsea!! Fernando said girls are stupid!"...my only response that I could think of was "well that makes Fernando stupid for thinking that." She nodded and walked off. I'm almost 82% sure that wasn't how to properly handle the situation...

Another example: at recess one day, one of my 1st graders came up indignant, pulled my shirt and said, "CHELSEA. Do you know what Marta called me?!" I thought....oh no. Please oh please do not make me have to explain something awkward, something sexual, something vulgar...like calling him names of body parts or things to do with processes of body parts...but he was SUPER upset so I was worried it'd be worse than that...and from innocent little Marta? I love Marta! Every day for 2 weeks Marta came up to me and showed me how she could bite her lip like a bulldog and blow hard enough to make one of her teeth wiggle back and forth. [Honestly I have NO idea how that tooth stayed put for 2 weeks...she could have started a small gypsy show in the metro for spare change] Little Marta?! I don't want to have to lay down the law with poor Marta...

"Chelsea!! She called me....A BEAST!"

....really? That's it? That's half of a Disney movie title, for crying out loud. Laughing in Daniel's face was probably also not the adequate response, I bet. But I gave him a hug and a pat on the head and told him if that's the worst he was called that day, he was lucky. I'm sure he felt better.

Going back to the "what do you want to be..." topic, Colonel Nun took this opportunity to laugh in every child's face who said "I want to be a teacher". Not to mention when she was explaining "jobs" she said, "Jew know, yobs. A yob!! My BABIES, yobs! What ees a yob? Jew know, a yob, a way to earn moneey in so-shitty".

*Pause*....so-shitty? Emphasis on so. SO-shitty. What the hell is.....ah. Use your context. Society. Nun-ism. *Unpause*

"HAH!! Jew want to be a teach-ah? [British accent...teach-ah.] Madre mia, madre mia!! HAHA! Jew want to be a teach-ah...when I was eleetle and I tought 'I want to be a teach-ah' too....HAH! My Gode, I was an eedee-ot!! Come now, babies...be ca-ful."

Rumor has it she wants to quit teaching and only be a resource teacher//tutor. I think I definitely believe that now...haha.

As loyal blog followers, I'm sure you'd all love to hear how my 5th grade students did on their Animal vocabulary tests. About 7 kids in each class (out of 22 kids) passed. In Spain, a 5 (or 50%) is passing. That means that about 3 got above a 70% (a C), and the other 4 got about a 5, or a 5.5 (50-55%). The rest scored below that. As a bit of educational commentary, it is completely acceptable to barely pass here. Rocio, my teacher, was told she was not allowed to "fail so many kids"...but it's vocabulary...they just don't want to study. Aggravating!!! I spent my entire Saturday two weeks ago making this presentation for the kids so they could be excited and learn. Nope. Wasted. Oh well. I'm in Spain. That's how it goes. To lighten the mood, here are a few colorful answers given on the test [they were given the word in Spanish, and had to write it in English]:

Oveja (sheep): beer

Ballena (whale): balls

Colibri (hummingbird): spazzo

...for the record, if I was the one grading the exams, I would have given each of these answers 1/2 a point for making me laugh so damned hard. Once again, another testament to more reasons I shouldn't become a legit teacher.

Oh yeah, baby!!

Hello and I'm sorry!, first and foremost. I haven't been great about updating this because last week was finals week, plus one of my best friends, Stephanie, came to visit. It was in the same week, so I tried to boost into super mode to get all of my shit done before she got here. That was unsuccessful (surprising? no), but I've finally burned out and become sick from being so pushed to the limit....so my body is forcing me to take a break and rest. Thanks, body.

Sigh...where to begin!? Stephanie told me my blogs are too long so I'm going to try to write less...more often. (That's aiming a bit high but it's the thought that counts)

Hm, okay. So recently pop culture has been ruling my school and students. Usually it's just a little reference to soccer, or my students ask me if I watch Teen Mom (...and get super impressed when I tell them that crazy psycho Amber is from Indiana...please keep in mind my students are 12, at best). Whatever. It's gotten significantly worse though...and I'm never ready for it.

Fore example, I was teaching my first graders how to play Go Fish...to practice numbers. I thought that would be super fun and easy but I was so wrong. First of all, they didn't get the RULES of the game. I told them all beforehand but they must not have understood or paid attention. To begin with, they didn't understand that you had to give all of the cards they had of one number if somebody asked for them. THEN they didn't put two and two together and understand that they couldn't ask for cards that they didn't have in their hand. It was a small nightmare. They actually couldn't even manage "go fish"...they always said "ess feesh." And yet they still managed "have you got...three?" They're so freaking adorable so it doesn't even matter. Anyways, one of the kids was really smart, though, and understood how to play the game. He said "I saw dis on TV, because I watch TV een Eengleesh!" Good for you, Luca. Half way through the game when he got one pair, he yelled "OH YEAH, BABY, YEAH!!!"

.....................................................................errrr, Luca, what TV do you watch in English!? Austin Powers?! I had no idea what to even say so I just ignored him and tried to tell the other kids he didn't know what he was talking about. That's the last thing I need....80 little international men of mystery running around my school.

In 5th grade, they're learning about animals. They had about 80 vocabulary words of different animals, and some of them they didn't even know in Spanish. For example, otter is nutria. They ask, "what is otter?" I tell them "nutria"..................................."Chelsea, what is nutria?" Lord. So I put pictures with the names and we had been practicing the pronunciation. P.S. my FAVORITE animal for them to say is squirrel. Hands down. They say it like "skwee-rull"...but fast! It sounds so hilarious. We practiced it about fifty times in each class...for pronunciation, but mainly because it was so funny to me. I really don't want them to say it right. Anyways, last Friday class was over, and Rocio and I were leaving saying "Bye!! Have a good weekend!!" ...dead silence. Rocio (the teacher), said "wow, how rude...I said "have a good weekend!!"....??" Still, silence. So she explained (keep in mind we've been doing this with this class since September, and they still have no idea) what "have a good weekend" means in Spanish, and the proper response is "you too!". So all the kids shouted "you too!!.......YouTube!!" Except it was more like this:

Kids: Jew too!...haha, JewToob!! JewToob! Ees like JewToob!!

...someday I'm going to dedicate an entire class to teaching my students how to pronounce "y". Until then, I'm going to keep chuckling at their unfortunate mishaps.

During the same animal presentation, the kids learned the word "chicken"...they already knew it but they were having fun putting a picture with the word. One of the kids, when we reached the slide, yelled "Chee-kun! Like Chee-kun tenders!" I was like.....um, Jorge, where did you learn the phrase "chicken tenders"?? He matter-of-factly replies "Boo-rger Keeng". Great. Then we were looking at "cat", which they all knew, but I thought it'd be funny to put a picture of my brother with my cat, Lexi...because she looks NOTHING like the cats they have here. This is the picture I put on the slide:

Wonderful, right? Anyways I thought they'd just think it was hilarious...and none of my students thought he was my brother...until I told them, and then they got SUPER excited. But the one class, the infamous class (that by the way, is usually my favorite) thought he was Fernando Torres, a famous soccer player who used to play for one of the Madrid teams. This is him:

I think it's one of those things where they just love this guy so much they really hoped it was him. Anyways I showed them the picture of Lexi and Alex and this is the conversation that was had:

Me: Cat! Do you know who this is?
Kids: OH MY GODE (that's how they say "oh my God"), ees Fernando Torres!!!
Me: No....it's not Fernando Torres, it's my brother!
Kids: YOUR BROTHER IS FERNANDO TORRES!?
Me: nooooooo....my brother is Alex, and this is my cat Lexi!
Kids: So wait...is that why Torres now plays for Chelsea??? THAT IS SO COOL.

..........fail. Big fail. Chelsea is one of the competing soccer teams, and a main reason why I LOVE living in Spain. It's a great way to explain how to pronounce my name (Chelsea...like the soccer team? Yes :) AND most guys here adore soccer so they think it's really exciting. Double bonus!! So anyways....my students STILL think that guy's my brother and think he switched from Madrid to Chelsea for that reason (because he now plays for Chelsea). Great. Hey, I'll take it.

This is my attempt at being "short"....eh. Tomorrow during lunch I'll update a little bit more...I have an entire list of crazy to report :) GO BULLDOGS!!!

Pets are friends, not food.

Well it's a Sunday evening, I'm depressed because the three-day weekend is coming to an end, and I have yet to start any homework that is due Tuesday. Sometimes I hate myself for my love of procrastination. However that path has brought me here so I can write a little on the bloggy blog and then potentially being productive! I make no promises.

Well let's see...last time I believe I stopped right before diving into the crazy, so let's start there. The best part about the crazy is that crazy knows no age. That means surprises! Let's start with the youngin's and work our way up.

Last week, in first grade, I ended up having to teach the sound "H". It doesn't seem too hard but the thing is in Spanish the 'h' is always silent. They never actually make the "huh" sound. It's hard to type the sound but you know it, like hat, hello, hooker. Anyways, when Spaniards say h's, they usually ignore it or make it really gutteral...like they're trying to get snot out of their throats. So "hello" turns into *coughhack*ello. Anyways I always start pronunciation by asking what words they can think of that start with the letter. I ask, "what words start with H??" I got hello, hi, hat, hamburger, and then finally one of them eagerly raised her hand and said "HORE!!" My head kind of cocked like a pug because I was trying to figure out whether I should be appalled/proud that she knew the word whore, or the more probable alternative was figuring out what word she intended on saying...I looked at Isabel, the teacher, and she nodded her head knowingly and said "Horse." I said "OHHHHHHHHHHHHH....horSSSSSSSSSe. Yes! Horse....horSe..." What a stupid H, hahaha. That one cracked me up but the weird one came later when I was teaching the letter 'P' this way. I asked a different first grade class "what words start with P?" I got pookeen (pumpkin), purple, pink, penguin, Penny (the name of the Penguin), I taught them the word poodle, and finally one of the smarter kids yelled "poonk!!" Poonk? I asked how you spell it....P-...U-....N-....K. Poonk.

Ohhhhhhhh........punk.

WAIT. How the hell do you know the word punk?! "I see-ed it in Spongebob."

......hahahahah. Thanks Nickelodeon. Then all the kids wanted to know what a poonk was and that's one of those words you can't really describe, in English or in Spanish. So we moved on.

And I will too. Moving on to third grade. My favorite third grade class is the one with the hot teacher (once more, hot teacher who is married and now pregnant. Well his wife is...anyways he's awesome and soon might teach me how to juggle). They never cease to crack me up, and they never ever know they're being funny. This is the class that brought you "hide and sex" and "I love jew...wait, I no want say that." This time, however, they brought their A-game. We were playing "20 Questions" to practice the W-question words (who what when were why) as well as speaking in only English....which is really difficult for them. Anyways my rules were a bit different. First, we changed it to 10 Questions because I would never win if we had to reach twenty. Then, I made them tell the class if it was a person, place, or thing. After that the kids had to ask five questions and after asking five, they could begin to guess what the object is. This worked really well except when it came to people. One of their favorite questions was "What color is it?" How do you answer that if it's a person? They usually said "lots of colors" but my favorite was when I gave the little boy from Manchester the word "toes". For SOME reason the kids just cannot remember the word toes. They know fingers. But in Spanish, there isn't a word for toes. Instead, they call them "fingers of the feet". So everytime I give them the word toes, they want to say "fingers of the foot." Knowing he wouldn't do that, I thought it was a nice little challenge. So anyways, the question pops up. "What color is it?" And he said "peach". After the class fought for five minutes about what a peach is, the boy tried to explain in Spanish that in English people refer to skin-colored, usually, as peach. One of the little girls that gets really excited goes "OH! I know!! It's meat!!" We both looked at her like she was insane and she kept insisting "MEAT!! Jess, ees meat color! Ees dee color of dee meat!!" We both tried to explain no, it's skin. It's a part of the body, so it's skin-colored. She got really adamant and kind of testy yelling "jess! I know, ees meat!" That's when it hit me. The word for "flesh" in Spanish is "carne". "Carne" is also the word for meat. Therefore instead of saying flesh-colored, it came out meat-colored. The teacher was laughing so hard she almost cried, meanwhile I got a little nauseous thinking about meat-colored toes. Gross...anyways nobody guessed toes, so I won that round, and we had a really good laugh after class. Meat-colored. Ugh.

The next class was just as good. I figured we wouldn't really have anything exciting happen because we were just reading a story and little paragraphs about food around the world. One story was about a boy named Chen from Japan who eats noodles with chopsticks. The first bridge we had to cross was the word "noodles" because they have never heard of that before and usually just call it "spaghetti". Every student that tried to pronounce it stumbled and screwed it up, which was hilarious to me. "Chen eats his no-dles...no-odles...noddles..." basically every which way except noodles. Then I asked the class "what does Chen use to eat his noodles? A fork?" Nobody knew the answer but Eva, the teacher, leaned over to the kid who is a bit slow and whispered the answer to him so he could participate. He eagerly raised his hand and I happily called on him...that silence when nobody knows the answer is super embarrassing. That's when he yelled "Chopdicks!!" .....aaaaaaaand fail.


I guess since things are always so crazy at school, I never write about the whole cultural learning thing that is supposed to enrich study abroad experience...I sometimes I complain about things that annoy me that Spaniards do, but that's not exactly discussing cultural differences. I also haven't travelled much, because I'm too exhausted and somewhat poor (saving my money for future purposes, being an adult haha) but I've had cultural diversity forced on me in various ways. First of all, nothing says adaptation like dating somebody from somewhere completely different than you. Valentine's Day was not the first clash of cultures for me & the boy from Peru. I didn't think it'd be that big of a deal, and it isn't, but I'm definitely learning a lot, for better or worse. For example, I've been trying to cook more lately and have been discovering wonderful recipes that I'm really good at making (which is absoultely shocking if you knew how little I know about food in general). It's also hard because you have to make EVERYTHING from scratch here, because there aren't many choices at the grocery stores. If there are things like that, they're expensive as hell because they're considered "foreign". There is no "throw in a can of soup"...you have to MAKE the soup first. Thus far I have made terayaki stirfry, quesadillas, chilli, salsa, and recently chicken broccoli alfredo & chicken noodle soup. I feel SO accomplished. Anyways I have cooked for Walter a couple of times now (I'm morally opposed to this concept but I think my roommates are sick of me shoving my recipes at them) and it's always had interesting results. First, I just made chicken. He was very appreciative and promised me that next time, or soon, he'd make me dinner. I asked about typical Peruvian food because honestly I can't think of any food I've heard comes from Peru. I kind of assumed it'd be like Mexico...you know, south of the border kinda deal...tacos, burritos, rice. The whole shebang. Let me rephrase. I **hoped** it would be like Mexico. He mentioned a lot of ricey things, with a lot of fish that was not cooked (but not sushi apparently), and also rabbit. Indian rabbit. Atleast that is what I translated...I made a not-so pretty face when he said rabbit, because to me rabbits are little floppy-eared pets, not food. He didn't realize my gross face meant "that's gross" and thought I didn't understand rabbit, so he says "you know...Bugs Bunny? Looney Tunes. Rabbeet?" I know, I know, rabbit. Ugh. So I tried not to be too judgey...that didn't necessarily work...but we moved on. He told me he'd research some food because he doesn't quite remember how to cook it and we'd do that soon. After he left I was filling my roommates in on the date and one of them said, "ooh I love Peruvian food. Is he going to cook you guinea pig??"

Um, no. Shut up....don't even joke about crap like that.

He did not even MENTION guinea pig. I told her the weirdest thing he talked about was rabbit, that was apparently really popular, but...no guinea pig. I forget how the realization came about, but basically we Googled it and Indian rabbit IS the Spanish translation for guinea pig. It's not a rabbit. IT IS NOT BUGS BUNNY. That is TOTALLY different. I think I spent an entire week in mourning and thoroughly disgusted because....well, duh, GUINEA PIGS ARE PETS, NOT FOOD. Not to help the situation, my roommate Katie thought it'd be cute to throw out there "hey one of the little girls I give private lessons to has a guinea pig...want me to grab it so he can use it to make you dinner?" NO. Pets are friends, not food.

Anyways, I've been super lucky because he's been really busy and therefore putting off the whimsical dinner date when he tries to feed me furry little rodent pets and I have to explain myself and my Western cultural differences. Other fun things I've stumbled upon is that a.) he thinks that chicken noodle soup is Mexican and b.) cats have 7 lives in Spanish. I'm not sure how a language difference changes the wive's tale but...he's convinced he proved it to me because we found a song on Youtube that sings about it. 7 vidas tiene un gato. I'm surprised he doesn't want to cook that for dinner too. Okay that wasn't fair.

I've also learned a lot about Germans this past weekend. I've learned that they are total assholes. Ugh, it's getting late. I think I'll go do some minor homework now and leave that story for the next time.

Tootles, amigos!

Recipe for a Princess

I'm slacking a little but I have been battling the "first year flu" business...aka every other week I get sick because my munchkins like to pick their noses and NEVER wash their hands and then maul the crap out of me whenever I'm in eyeshot. They've also started kissing me on the cheek which I think is so adorable...but then look where I am. Sick again. This past "cold" has been fun because I've been suffering body aches with a touch of slight fever. And I'm running out of American medicine...yikes!

Okay, okay, let's get to business. I think I'll start with the good first and end with the crazy. Haha, that was optimistic. It's all crazy. But we'll start with how I'm awesome first. In my 3rd grade class on Tuesday, Eva (their teacher and the one who is pregnant) has the kids hardcore pray every morning. Now, I teach at a Catholic school so every class says the Lord's prayer and the Father, Son & Holy Ghost kiss thing, but Eva has one student each week that goes to the front of the class and asks the students why they want to thank God or why they want to ask God for His help. My first few times in class I thought they would all pray for me and thank God for me, you know, something cute (my kids are so cute) but they never did and after the first four months I gave up hope. They ask God for the weirdest things too. I always pray that my family, friends, and pets are happy, healthy, and safe. Always. It's a good go-to prayer. All encompassing. They pray that their mom doesn't hurt anymore from her hangnail, or that Eva gives birth soon (and they have also prayed for gender, haha), or that they can go out of town on the weekend. Their favorite "thanks" is usually thanking God that their Mom's headache went away (and I think we all know that school can be thanked for that). I should have seen it coming, though, because if we all remember back to Thanksgiving, they could hardly think of three things to be thankful for, let alone think of new things on a daily basis. BUT IT FINALLY HAPPENED!! Last week I was drinking my water, trying to slyly put on my chapstick (they all gawk at me no matter what I do) when I heard my name in one of their prayers!! They said, "I want to thank God for giving us Chelsea and because she is here with no family and no friends so she can teach us English." My first response was ummmm....just because you don't SEE my family and friends doesn't mean they don't exist...but then I was overwhelmed with excitement because it was just so cute!!!! And then I had to pretend like I didn't understand a word they said because I'm not supposed to understand/speak Spanish haha. That triggered a chain of prayers for me because everybody wanted some attention so I also got "thank you for Chelsea spending her time with us" and "I want to pray for Chelsea and the other teachers because they are good teachers and put up with us". Can I get an Amen? Aaaaaaaaaaamen.

Besides that, my kids appreciate my looks too (and not in an inappropriate way anymore!!!) This past week, my first graders were learning adjectives...big, small, ugly, beautiful, long, short, dirty, clean. They have cute little actions to practice and now everday without fail, I enter the room, they all shout "Hello Chelsea!!!! How are you!?" and I say "I'm fine, thank you, and you?" and they answer "I'm fine thank you!!" Sometimes they like to keep saying "...and yoooou??" until I ignore it and move on. The funny thing is that every school, I'm gathering, teaches this introduction. The problem is the student's don't understand what it means. So if I say "I'm good, thanks!" they stare at me like I just whipped out some Mandarin and tried to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. They tend to sit there for about 15 seconds and then say, "....I'm fine thanks, and you?" I repeat "good!" and they stare a little more and say "....fine? you?" They absolutely don't understand what they're saying and they think "fine" is the only appropriate answer. Here's a classic example of this: one day I was walking to lunch and usually the kids wait on two sides of the hallway. One side is the lunch line. And the other side is the punished side...aka kids who couldn't stand still long enough to get food so they have to wait until everyone is done to eat. *DUN DUN DUN* So anyways it just so happens the punished kids are always the most eager to talk to me, because they're isolated on the wall with no friends and are technically not allowed to move (but when they ambush me and get yelled at for disobeying the punishment, they say they just wanted to talk to me in English...little brats. They use me but I like the attention haha). One day one of my fourth graders, Silvia, runs up to me and says hello and I say "hello, how are you?" Her response: "I'm fine thanks, and you? But.........I no fine. Fine no. I here *points to wall*...*whispers in Spanish* I'm punished...so I have to stay here. No fine" and shakes her finger at me. At that moment I vowed that somehow I would teach them how to properly converse with someone in smalltalk without having to backtrack or follow their monotonous routine. Pray for me, haha.

Anyways, I shocked the shit out of my students on Monday because I decided to curl my hair. I woke up feeling awful but I had decided I was going to try to shower at night so I could sleep in a little more. Doing that, however, makes my hair flat so I have to curl it to make it look decent (sorry boys reading this, I swear I'm done with the beauty tips). Anyways I thought it'd be good to look cute even though I felt like death and hope it evened out. So I go to class and Mondays are the day of 1st graders, who literally worship me, and as soon as I walk in they start yelling at me about my hair. "Chelsea...ees beautiful!!!" or my personal favorite is "Chelsea!! Beautiful.....jew!!" and they point to me. It's so freaking adorable. I am so worried I'm gonna kidnap a few of them one of these days and try to smuggle them home with me. They're so damned CUTE. Wanna see how cute? Check out this video. This is them practicing their adjectives with a song: (p.s. wait til they get to beautiful...and the kid on the left side in the middle on the end is my favorite kid of all...HE'S SO ADORABLE...he usually salutes me)



Do you see how I tear up literally everytime they compliment me?? They're so freaking cute. I adore them. Anyways Monday was a stressful day for them because while I curled my hair, Isabel, the other teacher, decided to straighten her hair. Her hair is usually naturally really curly so she never ever wears it straight. It took us about five minutes to get them to accept the fact that we'd switched places. Then, in another class later, one of my students complimented my hair (by that time it was after lunch and I was used to their surprise) and I said thank you but she ran up to me wide-eyed and started yelling, pointing, "Chelsea!!!! Princess!! Chelsea...jew...preencess!! Jew are preencess!!" Eva & I cracked up but all of the class got annoyed because they were vehemently agreeing. Later, we stopped by her husband's class to drop off her books and this little guy, Manuel, turns and literally gasped saying (in Spanish) "Chelsea..............how gorgeous you look today...." His tone of voice was absolutely hilarious because he was so deeply affected by my little change. So, basically, after over fifteen compliments and comments about my hair, I'm never going to leave it straightened again, haha. Princess Chelsea...bow to me ;)

Physical looks is how you get to the younger kids but I've found the older kids are a bit tougher to charm. They respond best to candy and when you level with them. My older kids love to talk and are mischevious as hell. They love passing notes and whispering and gossipping and secrets. Unfortunately for them, I feel like I'm not yet an adult, but I'm not really a kid either. I'm in an awkward phase where I want authority (so I see it as a personal challege to be nosey and confiscate all of their notes) but I still want to be their friend. Last week, Colonel Nun wanted me to explain to fourth grade about April Fool's Day. I told her I didn't know much about the history, or why we celebrate it, but that I'm the queen of pranks and I could just tell them about my pranks? She couldn't possibly want that...buuuut she did. So I spent an hour telling my fourth graders about all of the rotten pranks I've pulled for April Fool's and all of the other pranks I'm potentially thinking about pulling. It got to a point, about five minutes in, where the boys would literally stand up and applaud me after every prank and yell "another one!! another one!!!" I bowed a few times, when appropriate. They don't understand a sorority, nor the fact that I lived with 50 girls, but they could appreciate it when I told them that I prank about 20 people each year on April Fool's. They have April Fool's here, kind of, right after Christmas...but from what they explained it's more of a passive holiday where you say, like, "oh look! It's raining outside! Better wear your rain jacket!" and then you go outside and it's not. *womp womp* Or...."wake up! It's time for school!"...but it's Saturday. *womp womp* Needless to say, with the bar set so low they were bound to have their minds blown. And they were. Half way through the nun came up to me and goes "Chelsea...jew are a berry bad baby!! Jew are a hooligan!! NOW BABIES, SUT UP AND TAKE NOTES!!! Jew can use dees wit jour familees!!" Half the kids said they were too terrified to use them with their families because their parents would kill them. Fair enough. Now, every day, all of the fourth graders ask me to tell them another one of my pranks. And they know the word prank. I loooove it.

These things always end up so long...ugh. It's already time for class so I guess I'll save the crazy for next time. Hail Princess Chelsea!

Learn some English, tiny dancer...

So, some of my classes are always wonderful, and some are always taxing...and most of the time I can never really anticipate the chaos that is going to happen on any given day, but one of my fifth grade classes hardly ever lets me down. Each new unit in the English books has a section that crams all of the vocabulary into one weird & basically non-sensical song...and I usually skip the song, because while the kids love to jam out to the music, they tend to skip over the whole singing part, I end up trying to learn a dumb song in 2 minutes, and looking like a moron when I get the words wrong. And nobody else is messing up with me because they're all perfecting their air guitar solo (which does not require singing).

Anyways, in this one fifth grade class, though, I thought I'd let them listen to the song, because they could handle it. I considered it a leap of faith. One student LOVES dancing, however, and offered to come to the front of the class and perform some original choreography. The class all moaned, being quite familiar with his moves, but I thought I'd give him a shot.

This is the genius that followed:



Sometimes the kids make my job really easy. The kids think I'm gonna put the video on Youtube in the year 2029. That was their interpretation of "when you've forgotten all about it, I'll show it to you". This happened last Friday and they've definitely already moved on to bigger and better things like Virginia, the ghost that lives in the bathroom and appears in blood if you say her name three times in the girls bathroom. I'll update on that one soon, potentially later tonight. Until then, enjoy the music :)

P.S. for those of you without Facebook (CLOE), here is a link to my photo album with pictures of my little ones making Valentine's, as well as pictures of the school's chapel. Quite beautiful.

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2122151&id=21105536&l=3d1987fec7

 

...and then Colonel Nun wore a leather skirt. (Valentine's Day, too)

These past weeks I've felt like I've been in a bit of a rut...however, even in the ruttiest of ruts, I find Spain will never let me down when it comes to surprises. They're waiting around every corner and when you least expect it, they jump out at you. Hard. That's why they're called surprises, after all.
Imagine my surprise when the Nun wore a pleather knee length skirt with her usual sweater vest and collared shirt last Friday. When I say pleather, I'd like to you to invision a nice leather couch in a legal office or a modern living room...then take that material, wrap it around Ms. Hardass, and my eyes half out of my head with my hand placed over my mouth. I mean, I have tact, don't get me wrong, but my hand was firmly located as such because the students aren't slow on the uptake, either. And they don't have the tact I do.

Student #1: Teacher!! Teacher! I like jour skeert. Ees beautiful!
Colonel Nun: SUT UP BABY, ees no of jour beesiness.
Student #2: ooooooooooh how pretty!! I love it!
CN: Ees a skeert!! LEAVE IT ALONE. Have you never seen a skirt before? Mind your own business.
Student #1: but teacher, ees new? Eet look new. I haven't seen it before. It's very sexy.
CN: What do you mean sexy!? SUT UP you have no idea what you're talking about!!
Student #1: no, it's just that you look like a warrior....o someteeng. LIKE JOAN OF ARC!

This verbal fight went on for about ten minutes and it was awesome. I tried to act unamused and overly interested in a loose string on my shirt. I was probably smirking really badly. You just can't whip that out so randomly...

Anyways, as I write this it is Valentine's Day. The meaning of which has completely changed for me, though, since I've been here. To me, Valentine's Day means being bombarded on my lunch break by 6th grade boys and looking like a creepass, insulting unsuspecting innocent boys, being subjected to confusing racism, stopping children from eating candy in 30 seconds, trying to explain weird slang to first graders, being lured into a false sense of security, and heart-shaped pizza while watching people struggle not to die on a freaky island. I will explain those now.

I think I'll start with school related incidences first. Tim & Jeri sent me 7 bags of Sweetheart candies, the ones we all know and love with the little phrases on them, to share with my students. Unfortunately and fortunately, at the same time, the company has decided to revamp their candy. That means that not only have they enhanced the flavor (they now actually have flavors for each color instead of tasting mostly like chalk), they have also added unique and random phrases. I didn't know this, so it was hard to figure out how to explain what the hearts said in some situations. First, I learned not to give children candy with a purpose without prefacing the intentions. I handed all of the kids a heart, and before I could even make a sound they had popped it in their mouth and it had made its way half way down their esophagus. So I had to dole out a few more and say "okay LOOK! FIRST BEFORE YOU SWALLOW. READ THEM! They say things!" Once they realized that they thought it was the coolest thing in the world, even though only one out of every 10 kids actually understood what theirs said. Because now the little hearts say "Tweet me" and "My boo". WHAT? Sometimes I swear the world is against me. Whatever happened to a simple little "I <3 you" or "Girlfriend". I can explain that. I'm morally opposed to Twitter, plus the fact that Spaniards pronounce it "Tweet-tare"...that was a nightmare. So I'd much rather they just eat them. They love candy. So so much. And it makes them quiet so I do too. So so much.

As I type this on my lunch break, I'm sitting at the cute coffee shop eating chips & guacamole. Chances are my school is serving fish for lunch (yay...) so I thought I'd treat myself to a little snack. I'm usually safe here but for some reason, all of my 6th grade male students have bombarded the window I'm sitting by and start pounding on the window when they see me. Not only does that scare the piss out of me, every time, but everyone else here is judging me and giving me those Spanish disapproval looks. The same ones I get when I wear flip-flops, or when I don't wear a jacket in weather over 50. Whatever. Old bitties. Also, Valentine's to me has come to mean the one day my older students decide to learn the word "boyfriend". As in "Chelsea...uh.........do you have a boyfriend??" All the girls ask innocently, hoping I do (because if you don't you're a lost cause in this country) and the boys ask for various motives...sometimes they're being little perves, and sometimes I think they have a crush on me. Those are the fun ones, haha, because they get so excited when I say no. And the girls just look at me like I told them I killed their dog. Needless to say, I'm so glad I only had to cross that bridge once today (only one class of older kids). My other kids are making little heart-shaped Valentines. Nobody made them for me though, little rats...guess I exhausted my fame when they made me their Christmas cards, haha.

Anyways, speaking of boyfriend-ish things, I still don't have one, or really want one, but I've been dating a guy for awhile now. He's very nice and got me a couple of things for Christmas/my birthday so I thought (since I suck really badly at buying presents for boys) I would get him a little Valentine's Day present. P.S. He's from Peru. A country that does not celebrate Valentine's Day. And I figured that but I'm always happy to get prezzies, plus it's chocolate...so...I didn't think it'd be a bad idea. I gave him the box, he spent 5 minutes trying to untie the bow I put on it (made of sparkly yarn....ugh) and was really confused when he opened it. At first a wave of embarrassment went over his face, and then that look I'm now so used to, the no-boyfriend disappointment face my girls give me, the look like "you just killed my dog". So I tried to explain it's Valentine's Day and people usually get whoever little flowers or whatever, so I just got him a simple box of chocolates. [Forrest Gump loved that gift. Just for the record..] He started speaking in English, so I knew I was in big trouble (because he doesn't actually speak English), and all he could manage was "jew are berry bad." Why. How. What?! What'd I do. Seriously. I told him I thought it was more appropriate than roses or a teddy bear (which was an option on the table), would he have preferred that? Luckily he's used to me being snarky but in hindsight it probably wasn't the best time to say that. He got really upset and told me he felt awful because he didn't know it was Vday, and they don't celebrate it in his country, and he should have been the one getting me something. I told him he got me prezzies for my b-day so we were even but he didn't really like that answer either. So I ended up somehow insulting him, hurting his feelings, and he didn't really get over it until my roommates stormed in, slightly tipsy, trying to borrow my shoes and take pictures. Why is Valentine's Day so damned stressful...

Anyways, back at school, I hauled my Valentine's supplies to the teacher's lounge and they were all kinda like, "Oooooh right today is Valentine's Day. We don't celebrate that here." And I tried to level with them and said "I know, I don't really celebrate it, mostly because the guy I'm kind of seeing is from Peru and apparently they don't do that there either..." I'm not sure what response I expected, but the response I got knocked me off my feet. One of the teachers I work with, Maria, looks at me like I just spoke in Chinese and says, "you're dating a guy from Peru? How does that work? I mean, that's funny because you're so white and have blonde hair, and if he's from Peru then he's got tan skin and black hair. How did that work out? It'd look so funny!" Ummmmmm......haha, what the hell?? I think the best part is that she was genuinely sincere, like she was concerned for me for some reason. There's honestly no good response for that, either, so I just laughed confused and grabbed some coffee really quickly. Next time I meet a guy I'll make sure I'm not pastier than him. Hello, Ireland, I'm comin' for yo gingers.

Needless to say, I feel beaten up by today, haha, and I wish I could be home to spend it with my sorority sisters watching movies in the Informal, cuddling on the couch and eating Mexican food. Instead I'm forcing my friend to come over and watch Lost. He got this flier in the mail for some "romantic special" from the pizza place where they'll bake your pizza into a heart for free, so I think we're doing that for a laugh and gonna hopefully find out more about that damned hatch (I'm only on Season 2, haha...don't tell me anything!! I already peak ahead online too much). So, from the bottom of my teeny tiny broken and battered heart, Happy Valentine's Day. <3 haha.

P.S. recap: leather skirst are never okay.

Kids really DO say the darndest things...

Bill Cosby could completely renew his career if he would come to Spain and try to teach English for a year. However, I'm gonna figure out a way to capitalize on it instead.

This past week has had its many ups and downs. School has treated me pretty well, but my private English classes have been brutal. I tutor the two brattiest Spanish children on the face of the planet...and their younger sister is a Little Miss Me Too, so whenever her big sister is doing something stupid, she loves to join in. Sometimes the kids are inadvertantly rude, which I can deal with. For instance Julia, the 3rd grader, was rubbing my back and touched my undershirt. She grabbed it and, very concerned, asked "What's this?!" I said "um...it's my undershirt. No big deal...see?" and I showed her the straps. She also saw my bra straps and gasped. She yelled and gasped "YOU WEAR A BRA?!" I said um...yes, everyone wears a bra. "Nuh uh, I don't wear a bra." I told her someday she would. Which udderly disgusted her. I thought the topic was dropped when finally she broke the silence by asking "so...do you have kids?" By the way, all my kids think I'm 38, at best, but usually assume I'm over 4o. I'm normally appalled and offended but I try to remind myself how I used to think at that age. So anyways I said, slightly annoyed, "Noooo......" to which she snapped "well then why are your boobs so big??"

...whatever. Sometimes I think they shouldn't teach kids anatomy so young in Spain. I didn't know how to respond to that but eventually I got in a little tiff with her and ended up lowering myself to her level and verbally arguing for 5 minutes about it. This time, though, she was just ornery and curious. Not mean.

That innocent train came to a halt Wednesday, when Julia got mad at me while we were playing a game online. It's a board game that practices vocabulary and is set up Jeopardy style. This game is marvelous except for the small problem that Marina, the little one, is just in first grade and cannot yet read...in Spanish, let alone English. To get around this little issue, I read the questions and answers out loud to her. Julia, mad that she was losing, got mad at me for "cheating" and threw a euro at me. I think a euro is probably in between the size of a quarter and a nickel, but twice as thick. And it was thrown full-force at my face. It hit me in between the eyes. I was DONE. SO DONE. I started rambling in English, Marina heard "finished" and ran out quickly, not waiting for the chance for me to recant, and Julia sat there frozen, wondering how much trouble she was in...but she didn't feel bad at all.

On the other hand, school has been entertaining, at best. My kids are inadvertantly hilarious. My favorite sources of laughter have come from the simple game of "I Spy". Each week Eva, the pregnant teacher, tells me something to do and usually suggests a game to practice vocabulary to make life easy on me. Soooo in her husband's class (the hot teacher), we had the most fun. I would pick something in the room and if they guessed it, the class got a point and that student would come up and play on my team. One girl, Liuva, came up and said "Ee spee wit my leetle eyes someting dat ees jellow". 10 guesses later (that's the limit), we got the point. She was so excited she ran to her seat after I gave her a high five and everyone is asking "what is it!? what is it?!" She says, so matter of factly, "Ees Chelsea!" I was wearing a periwinkle blue shirt and jeans...I was so confused.

Everyone (including me) goes, "..........what?!"

"Ees Chelsea...hair!!"

...and all the kids go "oooooooooooh." Meanwhile I am mildly offended because I consider my hair to be a subtle, tactful blonde. Yellow. Psh. It was really funny though. Of course it doesn't end there. Eventually another little kid, named Nacho by the way, comes up and is the Hitler of I Spy. Not only did he pick the most random, smallest, unnoticeable object in the room, but whenever anybody guessed incorrectly he would roll his eyes, shout "um...NO!!", and give this look that screamed "are you serious?! How dare you even waste my time with that pathetic moronic guess". Since he was playing on my team, I was thrilled. I went again after him, because he of course won, and I picked the cross above the chalkboard that is brown. So I say "I spy with my little eyes something that is.......BROWN!!" All the kids shoot up their hands and are all screaming "yo yo yo yo yo!!" (Yo means me in Spanish by the way.) I was trying to be fair and let everyone guess...so I was excited when one of the little boys in class who never says anything finally raised his hand. This is how that went:

Me: you! yes? It's brown
Him: me?
Me: yes you...what is it?
Him: me!
Me: YES!! Yoooooouuuuu....what do you think it is?
Him: ees me!!!

Then I realized he's black. He meant him, as in HE is brown. HILARIOUS. I laughed so hard I cried. Literally. I had to regroup. Eventually they did guess the cross but it was soooo funny. In this class there is a boy who is "special" as they say, and always a bit of a distraction. I think he loves me and always loves our games we play, even though he doesn't know much English. Eva always gives him extra help, though, and tries to help him participate as much as possible. He's just a bit slow. Anyways, after class, she told me he had gone up to her and asked in Spanish, "Eva, how do you say face in English?!" and she said "what? why do you need to say face? Is that what you mean?" and he says "Yes! Face. It's brown...like Juan's face!" Eva & I's ongoing inside joke now is "ees brown?"

That was just 3rd grade's fun. 1st grade held so much more in store. 1st graders are just now learning how to write...so each night for homework they have to write 25 copies of sentences. The teacher had written on the board the sentence for them to study followed by "Copy 10 lines". She showed me one of the student's notebooks and for his homework he had literally drawn 10 different lines across the page. Not one copied sentence. I thought it was funny but the teachers were less than thrilled. This has happened A LOT this past few weeks since Christmas. For example, in Science, the kids had a test about wild animals. For "spotted cat that lives in the jungle", one of the students wasn't paying attention and wrote "leotard" instead of "leopard". That one was so funny. A different time, the kids were told to write in their notebooks the four seaons. In Spanish, the word for "season" and the word for "station" is the same. So instead of understanding the context of weather, he wrote "Cuatro Caminos, Iglesia, Rios Rosas, Bilbao", which are the metro stops (or stations) he takes to get to school. Another kid, Martin, in one of my classes kept asking if he could go to the bathroom. Spanish teachers are really strict on behavior & policies, so they hardly ever let kids go to the bathroom. Isabel asked him "can you wait? Til after we listen to this song?" and he said yes and sat down. Five minutes later we look back to the back of the classroom and Martin is convulsing back and forth holding his crotch and looking extremely pained. Isabel said "Martin!! If you HAVE to go then go!" So finally he went.

All. over. the. floor.

So, needless to say, my two weeks back have been eventful. I haven't adjusted yet but luckily neither have the students. I'll have to update later on my older kids. As a P.S. before I go, you should all be happy to know that the 7 year old that usually molests me is now seeing a psychologist, so we're hoping he'll stop touching me inappropriately. He still stares awkwardly, and I have to monitor my hugs to him, but I'd say that's pretty awesome progress. I'll take it!

Long time, no see!

Before I start, I'd like to note that Spanish television is absolutely incredible. As I write this, I'm watching Alf. Earlier today I had 2 projects due so I procrastinated until the last minute and eventually cranked them out watching Growing Pains and Hey Arnold! I've missed my Spanish T.V...ever since everything started snowballing before break, the apartment has been crammed (not in a good way) and I spent most of my time in my room or trying to nap whenever possible.

That being said, that's why I haven't written anything in over a month. Things got suuuuuuuuuuuper busy and then I was able to come home over break, and then I got dragged back here unwillingly and I'm stuck here for awhile, haha. I love it here, don't get me wrong...but it's been a rough transition.

For starters, the adventure back sucked even worse than the first time. The Asian guy at the Washington airport was rude & unhelpful and I swear he was HAPPY I was supposed to be stuck overnight in Dulles (properly named, by the way)...like one of those people who watches Maury to feel better about their lives. I missed my connecting flight taking me from Washington D. to Madrid, so I finally convinced him to let me go to London, then to Madrid. On the 7 hour flight to London, I tried to sleep and the guy in front of me insisted on stretching his legs a lot, which usually meant I would fall asleep and wake up to him standing over me, "stretching his legs", which really meant watching me snooze. He was so damned creepy. I caught him standing over me, staring, 4 different times. His hair was really greasy too, which I think is an obvious sign of a mass murderer. Then, after landing in London and discovering the angry Asian man told me he booked me with the wrong company, I finally get on the plane and am excited to just get into Spain. On that 2 hour flight, I sat next to a very rotund man who looked a lot like Santa Claus and was the most annoying passenger that has ever breathed air on this planet. To begin, this flight was delayed because one of the engines was not starting. If you ask me, that's a pretty severe issue that should be corrected by switching planes. Instead the pilot non-chalantly got on the intercom and said (and I quote) "Hey guys, uh, sorry we haven't been in contact with you for awhile, one of our engines appears as though it isn't starting. We've been below with the crews trying to get it started but we're pretty sure if we just restart the system it'll be just fine and we can take off shortly." UH, PRETTY SURE!?!? It's the damned engine!!! It's what makes the magic in airplanes and makes them fly!! That's like saying "uh, I'm pretty sure this car can run with only 4 wheels". Yeah, it'll run, dumbass, just not very well...

I know that's a bit overdramatic but after all of the flying I ended up doing, I found myself having panic attacks and pondering the credibility and saftely of airplanes....think about it, how do 2 engines make a thousand bajillion pounds FLY?! I decided it's against physics. Especially when the tactic to lift off is to simply go faster. It's not like cars do that. When I accelerate faster, I don't fly. I'd probably just get a ticket.

That's not the point. Let's get back to Santa. So we're waiting...2 hours pass for this engine issue to resolve itself (the entire flight I was waiting to fall out of the sky and plummet to my death). While I was waiting for this, though, Santa created many unwanted distractions. The first was him passing out, 5 minutes after boarding, with his head thrown back, mouth gaping open, and snoring like a damned foghorn. No joke. The ENTIRE plane, including the attendants, were staring and judging. Every once in awhile he would snore so hard he would choke a little bit, and wake up...but he would blink twice, lay his head back in his broken-neck position, and immediately fall back asleep. Sometimes he would suck air in so hard it would rattle the uvula in the back of his throat...you could hear it so clearly you could count the amount of times it hit the walls of his throat hole. This was not the worst. I prepared myself for the worst, which was 4 hours of this melodious bullshit. Because we were preparing for take off (for 2 hours) we were not allowed to use electronic devices...i.e. my iPod. So I start reading my 2 Cosmos I brought along and prayed that just maybe God would kill us after all. 120 excruciating minutes later, we take off and are shortly able to use our electronic devices. I throw in my iPod and thank the baby Jesus. I fell asleep for a little bit but woke up half way through and noticed that everybody was staring at me again. I figured it was snoring Santa again, choking on something new. He was awake, though, reading a magazine. I couldn't figure out what the hell was going on so I take off my headphones and discovered what the big deal was. Santa, in all of his annoying glory, had forgotten his headphones (or maybe he is just so annoying he chose not to use them), and was blasting music from his iPhone. Yes, as soon as I remove my music, I am slapped in the face with an acoustic rendition of Alanis Morrisette's Ironic. Blasting from the seat separating me and his obese body. The worst part was that he was totally oblivious to all 12 annoyed passengers surrounding us. So we listened to two more songs from Alanis and eventually he ended the trip with a couple classics from Jewel. Bad things come in three so he of course had to end the trip with a bang. When we were advised to turn off devices, again, because of landing, I look over and see that Santa is blatantly disregarding this rule and instead doing just the opposite...he is texting somebody. WHILE WE WERE LANDING. As soon as he got signal he started texting away and even checking his e-mail. It is truly a miracle that I am able to even type this right now.

Anyways....I made it. I got my luggage. I pissed off some gypsy who put my luggage into the taxi that I didn't tip because I thought he was just being nice and helping and didn't realize he was a gypsy. Usually gypsies have talents. I didn't think his was a very good one...feigning kindness. That was the first slap in the face from Spain. I also had to unpack my bags, sadly realizing I packed WAY TOO MUCH clothes. :( July will have some sad surprises for me.

That was just my first day back. My delays also caused me to miss my two final projects for both of my master's classes, which are also the only grades in the classes. Life reeeeeeeeally hated me that day. That all worked out alright, though. Having returned on the wrong foot, however, has been rough. First of all, I'd like to revisit my complaints about public transportation. I'm pretty sure it's going to kill me. Literally. First of all, the buses are quickly moving death traps. I was riding to my private lessons Monday when I noticed the emergency exits. Do you know what those are? The windows. And as if that's not bad enough, the hammers were stolen from every. single. holster. Who steals an emergency hammer!? So if the bus spontaneously combusts, I'm screwed. Also, the drivers cut corners. Which....whatever. They also text while driving. I wouldn't care but apparently there is no penalty for destructive contact. My bus was flying around a corner to catch a light and we literally hit the curb, bounced back, and busted into the stop light on the corner. We bent the thing down to a 45 degree angle. I was mortified and as my brother says, my toes were hurting. I'm looking frantically at the post we were quickly speeding away from, the pedestrians we came 2 inches from hitting, and the bus driver and passengers that were all witness to the accident as well. NOBODY WAS PHASED. AT ALL. It reminds me of the time before when my host mom hit two pedestrians when she was backing up in Valencia. Her response was "oops, I didn't see them!"...and then she *quickly* threw the car in drive and sped off. I literally waited the entire ride for the bus driver to turn around and go back, or to get pulled over by the S.W.A.T. team, but that didn't happen. Because in Spain, it doesn't matter. No pasa nada.

This adjustment is harder than I ever imagined...but day by day, I'm getting used to it all again. Which is the scary part...

Security friskings & my new boyfriend in LONDON!!!

Sometimes I feel like my blog titles give deceptive hope to my blog contents. For that I'm sorry. Buuuuuut oh well, now that you're here you might as well keep reading this bullocks.

That's a new word I learned in London. :D heh. Okay so I have skipped loads of my life on here because I've been super busy...or if I haven't been busy, I've been sleeping. So I'll try to catch everyone up on the NEXT post about everything that has happened between Thanksgiving and now. But this is about LONDON!!

Katie & I's flight left at 6:30 a.m. Friday morning to head to London...set to arrive at 8:30 local time. That means we needed to be at the airport by like 5:30, and leave our house by 5:20ish. Public transportation starts at like 7 a.m. so that wasn't an option. Instead of spending 20 euros on a taxi we decided to catch the last metro on Thursday night and camp out at the airport. It worked out decently well. We slept on the floor of Barajas, along with many other hobos, and I had awful flashbacks to when I first got to Madrid and was profoundly depressed, haha. Luckily this trip was quite the contrary! I hid my cell phone in my bra as my alarm and we managed to snag about 3 hours of sleep in total before it was time to check in and head through security.

I think my bad karma with airport security started back in 2005. On my trip to Mexico, I couldn't take off some silver bangles I had been wearing for 2 years, so security told me I could take them off or get frisked. I was lazy and didn't feel like forcing them off, so I went ahead and offered myself up for getting patted down. Ever since then, airport securities have been on my ass. Or I've had awful luck. Or both.

On my way here, from Indy, I was so traumatized by saying goodbye to my friends and family and dealing with the fact that I'd be here for a year that I blew through security, put my shoes on quickly, and jetted towards my gate. Except I forgot my carry on bag on the security conveyor belt. I had my purse, jacket, and presents from friends...but forgot the luggage bag. By the time I realized a team of airport security was already surrounding my little wine colored bag and about 5 different guards were waving metal detectors at my bag and calling the bomb squad. They were less than thrilled when I told them I forgot it and of course didn't believe me anyways. They also wanted me to prove it was mine. Ummm...brilliant job, Indy security. let's play "guess what's in my bag". Boring. Anyways that was dumb enough. But not dumb enough as what I did on the way to London.

So I go through security, take off my shoes, and first notice the severely butch and burly security guard behind the gates, just waiting for someone to set off the metal detectors. I made sure I took off all of my earrings, jewelry, watches, everything. Took the coins out of my pockets. Everything. So I walk through, seeing the eager beaver just waiting for me. I get 3/4 of the way through when it beeps. LUCKILY the woman in front of me was a terrorist or something because she got nabbed by the butch security guard and I got pulled aside by the pretty Spanish security guard who looked thoroughly annoyed that I was beeping. I stepped through again, and nothing. She asked (still annoyed) if I was wearing a belt. I said no. She asked if I had a pace maker. I said no. I told her I was wearing a bra, though. She didn't seem to care at all, although I think she should have thanked me because it probably made her job more pleasant. So, reluctantly, she performed the "invasive" search that Jeri had warned me about before. Got to 2nd base with that security guard, for sure. She started at my arms and then still, super reluctantly, felt all around my chest, between my boobs, under my boobs, in, around, if she could have gone behind my boobs she would have, then in between my legs, shins, feet, etc. It was surprisingly quick and after all of it I was kind of annoyed that I had to go through it for nothing. It was probably because of my zipper, I thought. Which could happen to anybody.

We get to the gate, and still have an hour before we can board because we checked in so early. So I start looking for my cell phone to set my alarm again. And I can't find it. So I think shit, I left it back on the floor where we hobo-ed it up for the night. I really didn't want to have to explain to the annoyed security guard that I left my cell phone, plus it was probably already gone by one of the other real hobos anyways. Crap. Pissed, I just cannot imagine where I put it. Where'd I have it last?? Good reading if you guessed my bra....because it was definitely there. Yes, I trumped airport security. Completely accidentally, I went through with my cell phone wedged in there. AND unhappy security guard lady never even found it. At first I felt like a dumbass...and I am. BUT THEN I realized that's freakin stupid because what if I wasn't a terrorist and had decided to smuggle a hand gun through or something?! So much for this strict security business.

The fear of clever terrorists mixed with the awul turbulence we had on the way there made for a very emotionally hectic plane ride for me. Katie was passed out right after take-off. It also didn't help that I was listening to my London playlist (consisting of strictly Beatles and the Mary Poppins soundtrack) and everytime we hit turbulence a very disruptive song would play (like Hey Jude at the end when Paul starts screaming weirdly...that's so nervewracking during impending death). Anyways we get to London, do Londony things, take potentially 50 pictures or more of Big Ben from every angle possible (wait for the pictures), risk my life feeding the birds in St. James Park (all whilst screaming "Feed the birds" from Mary Poppins in an awful British accent), taking many pictures of me feeding the birds, and shopping. I also declared that Big Ben is my boyfriend. I am in love. Anyways, during the shopping, I found numerous bras on sale for like 5 pounds each. I was EXCITED, seeing how my bra size is 100D in Europe sizes...right?! Anyways I bought the bras but we didn't check any bags because it cost too much. So I ended up shoving them all in my purse. They fit and everything, along with all of my souvenirs, but then I go through security again and something in my bag looks "suspicious". So I end up getting pulled aside and chatting with this lovely middle-aged British security guard who asks politely if he can invasively go through all of my items in my purse and do some chemical tests on them. I say of course. First, he finds approximately 10 shot glasses with my boyfriend on them. He asked if I was planning on inducing a lot of drinking. Funny bloke (another British word :D) anyways, he checks them for chemicals with this little wand he had, and continues. I explained that my friends were alcoholics, not me. Love you all. Anyways he keeps going and later finds the four bras in my purse...and made some awkward comment about looking like a rockstar with all of my alcohol paraphenalia and extra sexy underwear. I'm glad I can reflect so positively on America, haha.

Anyways his chemical wand that he rubbed on everything looked like a Swiffer duster pad. Except he took off the cloth and ran it through a chemical machine to see if I had any bomb-y things on my bras. Because they're so dangerous. If he would have been cuter I would have told him I didn't need chemicals to make my lingerie explosive. Guess that's inappropriate. I didn't. Anyways he cleared my stuff and left me in the middle of everybody to repack my purse and figure out how to make it all fit again. With my bomb-free London goodies.

So, finally, after a 2 hour delay because of another strike in Madrid, I made it home. Safely. With everything I went with. And I fell in love. Successful trip!! And many pictures to follow!!

...and then I got molested by a 7 year old.

I have updates this week as well as way too many awkward stories. They're all inappropriate so you've officially been warned.

General Nun has been on her A-game this week. For sure. I think I've forgotten to mention that she will flat out tell me to my face that I don't know English, sometimes, because British English is more correct than my “American”. So one day I was trying to explain “blender”. She says “no, we call it a mixer”. In class I slipped up and said “this is what we call a blender!” “OR ees what we call a meexair. Ees from dee Breeteesh. Ees more right.”
General Nun: 1. Chelsea: in the negative too far to count. Anyways the kids this week have been learning transportation. She went around the room asking the kids “MY BABIES, how jew get to da school?”

Nun: Tell me, baby, how jew get to school?
Student 1: I go to school by bus.
Student 2: I go to school by car.
Student 3: I go to school by car.
Student 4: I go to school by foot, then by tube, den by foot.

...I think I did that Scooby Doo double take thing where I'm like...wait what?? So I asked “how do you get by school?” And the student asks “uh...ees how jew you say, Metro? Tube?” NO. That's not how you say Metro. The only place on Earth that says “tube” is London. And it's just a general term. You can't say you take a tube to school. That makes you sound crazy, like you were Harry Potter or something. Lord.

Me: Oh, okay. I see. We just say Metro.
Nun: oh, jess? Well jew must have stolen from here! Ees “tube” een Engliss.

Gotcha. You'd know best. Other mishaps she's made this week:
“Jew can say ees good or is...? BUTT!! Jess, butt ees de opposhit of good.”
“One boy ees tall...de udder ees shot. One boy ees fat, de udder ess teen.”

Or better yet, she got in a fight this week with one of the students. This is the best tactic yet:

Student: ees pretty de same as handsome?
Nun: Jess, my God my baby, jess ees de same!!! Jew make me so angry!!
Student: well te quiero!! (I love you)
Nun: I HATE JEW MY BABY!!

Caps means loud screaming 3 inches from his face, by the way.

Other updates in school: Joan, the boy from the previous post who insists on calling himself “Essexy boy” has now added 2 other names to his nametag in class: “Blak strong”, “rompe dientes (break teeth)”, and Coby Brayan (spelled just like that). He told me to call him Blak Strong first. I told him I thought that might be racist. Maybe. I'm glad he's proud of being black though, haha. Clearly.

I'll end on a high note with my lowest point of today. Potentially lowest point of Spain thus far. At recess, I always talk to my students and say hello, even though on Thursdays I am allowed to leave after class. I have noticed, though, that my younger students are never there. Turns out there is a specific little patio, underneath their raised gymnasium, for 1st and 2nd graders. The roof is barely tall enough for the teachers to walk under it so it's a perfect little lair for the little munchkins. Anyways on my way out, three of my students found me and started yelling (as per usual) CHELSEA!! CHELSEA!! LOOK IT'S CHELSEA!! By the time I made it over to the ramp down to the lair, all of the kids rushed me and created a little people wall so I couldn't get any further. They had also managed to tell all of their friends so about 50 different kids were hugging me and pushing the other kids trying to get to me to hug me as well. It's really cute when it happens IN the classroom because usually only 12 kids (maximum) rush me at once. Here I felt absolutely attacked. While the students were hugging me, they all started shoving each other like a mosh pit trying to knock others out of the way to get attention as well. One of the little girls started yelling “TERREMOTO!!! TERREMOTO!!!!” (earthquake). I told her “that's earthquake. Say “earthquake!” so she started screaming “EARTHQUAKE!!! EARTHQUAKE!!!!!!! EARTHQUAAAAAAAAKE!!!”

Meanwhile, sneaky little Diego made it through the crowd and managed to grab me from my right side. Instead of grabbing my arm, which I kindly stretched out for him, he grabbed around it and held my hip as well as my right boob. Firmly. I would also like to add that Diego is the 2nd grader who continually says “hello Chelsea!! Jew are berry beauteeful today!” I used to think it was innocent. I don't anymore. One accidental grab....okay. However for about 30 seconds he continually squeezed and released my chest as if it were a stress ball. Practice that for 30 seconds. CLEARLY it's not an accident. I kept trying to shake him off, but to no avail. He KEPT doing it so I literally tried to shake him off, finally deciding that risking busting him in the face with my elbow and giving him a bloody nose would be worth it to stop him from molesting me. I think the look of sheer panic on my face was really obvious because the students started asking “Chelsea, do you want us to leave you alone?” (in Spanish, of course) and I said “no, it's okay, I just...I need to go home. House!” and did the international symbol for house (hands pointed above your head like a roof. Works every time) and finally they got the message. Eventually I shook Diego loose from his death grip (he didn't let go...instead he said “she wants us to leave her alone!!” to all of the kids while still firmly holding my  boob. That's actually false. I wanted you to let go of my chest. And not have ever done it in the first place) All of the kids hugged me one more time before I left and one little girl even kissed me on the cheek. When I got home I found a lovely crusty circle on my cheek from God knows what she was eating for breakfast. I think I'm permanently scarred for life.