OK. It's been more than a while since my last post. That is down to three reasons:

Me every time I'm alone and think about what I could be doing in Havana right now...... *sigh*

Today ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I'm gonna level with you about this job, this country, and what the heck I'm gonna do with myself when I leave here. Don't worry, it won't be too too bleak, and of course I'll pad it out with anecdotes of the ridiculous things going on at school as per usual.

I've said this to Gwynne before but, if all you can do is pray for  #HalfDayThursday and #PayDayFriday  to get you through your job, you must not like it right? I mean. I like my school and working with my groups etc but I could never go so far as to say this is my passion. It feels weird to admit that I'm amongst the majority (I imagine) of ELAs out here who are doing these placements but actually have no intention of becoming teachers. My whole adolescent life people have been telling me I should be/would make a good teacher. And obviously, typical girl, I thought - puh-lease *neck roll* I am not doing that - but at every chance I got (aka my first year abroad), that's what I did. And I loved it. But I tell you this now. Primary school, ain't happening in my future. I can't, don't and won't see it. Unless God Almighty picks me up and dashes me in  that playground, you won't see me there unless I'm picking up my (as yet unborn) children.

If I'm gonna teach kids I want them either fresh out the womb in kindergarten (nursery isn't even specific enough, 4 years and under) or old enough that I can dash them out of my class at a moment's (sp?) notice or I can speak to them on a level. One thing I can't get over though is how ridiculously exhausting teaching is. Like what is this?!  I don't even work full time, luckily I get Fridays off and don't have a rammout timetable. How can these people even come into work every day still upright and smile when most days I'm in a constant state of:

until at least 10am (following an 8am start) is beyond me. The amount of patience required, and creativity - my DAYS the amount of worksheets and game and exercises I have to create for these fickle, short attention spanned kids is crazy - is not serious. If you thought Simon Cowell was tough to please and keep entertained try 6-12 year olds. 

I'm telling you there is nothing worse than putting blood, sweat and tears into some elaborate worksheet or song or activity you are convinced they are gonna love and a child, or even a whole group of them has the audacity to stone face you like:

especially  when you were asked to make those sheets for them (no, I'm still not over it in case you couldn't tell). It's just a joke, tbh.

Did I get out of bed for this? Did I, in the words of J.A.R traverser l'Atlantique for them to give me this response really? To be asked why they have to continue reading a book the whole class was set for the entire term to basically teach them all how to read/improve their reading in English and how to pick up their two hands and use a bilingual dictionary - the key to learning any language really.

#SideNote

In case you didn't know guys, the generation following ours/mine is fully and completely wack. This is the fallout from the touchscreen/internet era:

• Unless it comes on a screen with a keypad, they don't know how to use it. 
• It took me weeks, months even, to establish that there are TWO A-Zs in ONE dictionary in TWO languages, and that if you don't know the word in my language (English) you look for it in yours, the one language you do know perfectly (French). 
• The act of flicking pages and searching for a word - which is usually right in front of them FYI - seems to send these lazy kids into some next bouts of fake depression.

Mate, bring back the cane or call SuperNanny or do something, this isn't a good look. The next generation is slaaaackin.

Doesn't everybody know I've  been making this up as I go along for the past 8 years??

Don't worry though, I'm not saying that these past 6+ months of teaching have completely burnt me out or anything. I'm not showing up to work drunk, sleepy (apart from that one nap I had in the reading corner during break time...) or post-psychotic break telling myself over and over:


Rest assured if it was that deep I'd just go home....Actually, wait, no. That's a lie. My parents don't have money to waste flying me here there and everywhere, and I just plain don't have money - not grownup money anyway - for anything like that. So love it or hate it I'm staying. Thankfully, however, I know I'm here for a reason, so Ima learn whatever it is I'm here to learn then take that on home back to England and carry on with life.

I miss libraries; studying, being buried under piles of glorious, funky, old, crusty books. I miss fighting for computer spaces and laptop plug spots and then overtaking them for ridiculous periods of time. I miss researching for essays and - in my case - almost failing to turn them in. My days I miss lectures and knowledge [I know, I've gone off the deep end into full geek mode]. I miss rolling out of bed (and bathing obviously) and rolling into lectures with glasses, tracksuit and uggs (THAT'S RIGHT I'M THAT GIRL) and then giving side eye to/cutting my eye at all the girls coming in with a beat face, handbag and Zara runway clothes. I miss riding my bike around campus, hanging out with only students  (with 4 uni's in one city Manchester is a student haven), in name brand and independent coffee shops. I miss halls, I miss having my whole life in one room. I miss G.A.N.G (the youth/student ministry of the church I go to in Manch - shout out to V.O.M =P ). Ugh. Give me all of it. Right now.

Of course though, I miss my family and friends more than anything. I miss my family's cooking, jokes, music. Everything about them, all the days we spend together - Chicken Fridays at Grandma's and Sunday Dinners at my house, BBQ's, sleepovers at friends. The lot. But soon come, innit. 2 and a bit months to go people!

Things I heard at school:

• There is nothing more cringey than when a teacher, parent, guardian, relative, just the person one or several levels up from your generation says something along the lines of "I've had the pleasure of watching you grown into a young woman/man" .One poor girl had the pleasure of having that line delivered in front of the whole class because it was her last day (please note, my girl was not sad in any way to be leaving after 5 years with the same peeps....mmmmhmm). Who has not told these people about how weird that can sound? Watching someone grow up - I know no harm is intended but still. At the very least, it's proper embarrassing. Say anything. But that. Please and thank you. All younger generations.

• Sitting with some of my grade 6 kids and they're telling me how their parents let them watch Supernatural (my guy has seen seasons 2-8, and that show is deep, not no kiddie show), Chuckie and all these next horror show things. Not to be rude, parent how you want etc but at the same time....where are your parents at fam? Obviously when you reach secondary school age your parents have less control over what you see and hear etc but in primary school, my parents weren't having a bar. Iunno, maybe it's just me. Under 13, you don't watch nothing higher than a 12. But okay then.

• So, before I went to Cuba, I got me some box braids done (couldn't have my hair sweating out in the heat then breaking off when I returned to the cold). And I figured, between me and the other, what,  black girls in the whole school, showing up with braids one day (which most of them wear a lot of the time) wouldn't be a big deal. Wrong.com. I hate the way children stare I do. I had to remind myself I was 23, can do what I want and it doesn't matter what hundreds of beady eyes think. Times like this I miss London where no-one bats an eyelid at hairstyles anymore.... Anyway, I had it from  all sides, students and teachers. In the staffroom, saying it looks so cute, beautiful, picking up my braids and saying my God, isn't that heavy? and it took how long to get done?!. Grade 5 and 6 are the worst I swear. Put it in a high bun - why is your hair like that? (for one, what kind of question is that, as if I put no thought into it whatsoever or did it just so I could explain it to you...), it makes you look like you have two heads or one really big one (these times you just have to breathe and remember cussing out children who don't know any better is wrong, you will lose your job and be deported back home or something). On a side note, one of my grade 5 girls who obviously knows about life said it was vraiment cool even though she had obviously never seen anything like it. Students went to the other teacher and asked her, before being forced to ask me, if it was a wig. SWEAR DOWN. I had to have like 5 minutes of question time including demonstrating how to braid braids, plus explain why I got them, why I got black and not blue ones, and why I'm keeping them. Please, and they act like I'm the one from another planet. How much do these children not pay attention/not find common sense answers to their ridiculous questions.

• Finally, there is lice at my school. The equivalent of the plague as far as education is concerned. So all my cute kids need to back it on up and not touch me for a few weeks. I'm already eye-balling the one's that have come in with a fresh haircut this week. I even forgot about it when one of my favourites hugged me in the hallway. Since then I've had nightmarish thoughts of those evil little demon parasites climbing up my braids like a long synthetic ladder....gotta figure out a way to duck her for a while.....Nowhere is safe and I'm not about to take out my braids, shave my head and go natural because of these children. No ma'am.

Last order of business. Can we talk about this weather for just a second! I do not understand the current state of Canada right now. Specifically Quebec because that's where I am right now.

MATE.

It is supposed to be springtime. How are we stillll ducking in and out of the -10s and -20s?! What foolishness is this???? How can the sun be blinding me all day long and yet it snows all night, afternoon and evening? Why must winter insist on topping up the snow levels. As if we're gonna run out of what's already here anyway. I imagine this was winter's reaction when everyone started going on about the "first day of spring" and the end to this freezer box of a country:

Spring has sprung, yeah?

I officially can't with this weather. As far as I can see, spring is dead or M.I.A. so I suggest we all pad up, order in takeaway/groceries and go to sleep until summer gets here. It works for bears and they don't seem like they're gonna be dying out any time soon so, goodnight ladies and gentlemen.

Today was just stressful. Long winded and bleak.

Basically:

Obviously I'm exaggerating slightly (and to be clear, I do mean slightly) but I've had enough.

Enough of 8am starts, of primary school and primary school children. 

Enough repeating myself, enough half days spent slumped at a computer desperately getting prep work done.

Enough of adulthood and full time work (says the girl with a 3 day weekend).

I don't care, I am not ashamed! I love Marc Anthony. As far as the old school gen of music is concerned, he is my favourite male singer right now. Period. In his heyday, he was bangin! I don't really know about this skinny uncle/Johnny Depp look he has going on right now (tucking shirts into jeans + dress shoes is never a look I will champion) but his voice has not changed. Marc, please I beg, sing me to sleep, sing at my wedding, my funeral. Just be in my life and sing at any random moment. My Zumba instructor soothed all the pain she causes me during class by playing this as our cooldown track:


*shuts eyes, puts hands in air, proceeds to salsa and sway around the room with her imaginary dance partner*


I finally got my entire life together and used one of my precious free Sundays to take my behind back (well to a new) to church. As I explained in another post, my options are: Catholic x2, United and Evangelical Baptist. EB was pretty much the only option I considered safe. And it was a good bet! My first visit was a bit bleak. The rest of the Gang was sleeping at mine while I ducked out early to go, I couldn't really take it all in because I knew I had to rush back to meet them for breakfast before they left. The whole time though (both visits) I was basically looking for a sign that this was where I should stay.....I got it anyway, between singing French (and even English!) versions of songs I know from my own church in the UK to the family vibe I picked up, the way they engaged with the kids and this one guy coming up to me, introducing me to like, everyone, including his whole family - he has the most adorable babies!!!! - and how everyone was so sweet, Evangelical Baptists will do nicely I think.

#SideNote

There were still some of those cute awkward moments that happen when you're in a small town full of old people/families. Questions like?

Where are you from? - gotta love the where are you froms, people always like to make sense of the brown.

I knew a pentecostal guy once, boy when you guys pray you PRAY - i.e. we make up noise lol, good to know our reputation precedes us haha.

Are you married, then? - ah the older gen, can't hit 20+ before people ask where your husband and kids are at LOL.

You're so beautiful! That skin! - being exotic can be fun sometimes I guess. But you know when (usually older) women complement you, like what they're saying is a shock, they're so astounded by it that they slap you. This woman punctuated the beautiful by hitting me on the arm while holding it in the other hand, had to fight not to crack up loool.

I think I'm gonna like it with this bunch. Plus the dinner invites are already rolling innn!



So, a little bird (my new bestie - she doesn't know it yet - a.k.a the school secretary) told me that some of the school staff do Zumba during lunch at school. Who knew? Some little underground fitness society! I'm telling you the women in this school don't ramp, salads and veggies/fruit for lunch and now I find out their secretly getting in workouts too.

Tbf, at first I thought, losing my lunch time by awkwardly moving and sweating with a bunch of people I don't know, some of whom blank me (or we mutually blank each other)? No, ta. But then, I had to be honest with myself, it was either that or sit on my butt for 1hr15mins eating and checking my phone for any hopes of conversation while several go one around (but do not include) me.

Lesson: No one in the adult world feels bad when you sulk because no-one is talking to you...

So. What the hell. I snuck  sneaked into the bathroom and changed into my budget, mismatched workout gear (thank you MELs for that lovely green t-shirt) and went to the library to await my fate.....you know what though?

Forget the teachers fam, the other staff in the school are JOKERS!!! Usually there's only 4-5 of us, some class assistants/special ed. workers, the secretary and the librarian, and we're in there cracking up! That bougie staffroom lot can keep their stank convos I like the zumba bunch sooooo much better! These women are literally such clowns, it's just us and the DVD so our 'class' pretty much goes like this:

Our motto should be: look stupid, get sweaty, be happy.

Take today for instance. We're doing the Menea Menea workout. So there was plenty of awkward hip rolling going on, a little like this:

Love how the "prettiest" ones come stiff like board. But check Louis though - He knows what time it is!

One of the best things about it is no-one speaks English (barring me and my fake bestie) but they all love repeating the swag DVD commentary.

#SideNote to these Chickens (Kass, Gina, Tanya and Loretta) right here  - ___ -

à la Raven Symone

Anywayyyy, along with the menea menea move our favourite phrase in class is the 'booty pump' which they pronounce 'boody pom'. I feel for who ever walks past the door and hears shouts of 'Woo! Yeah! Boody pom pom pommm!'



I kid you not, at the end of the workout as I turned away to put back tables and grab my stuff, I turn back around and see the librarian by the window going 'Menea, menea, menea, meneaaaa!!!!'.

This woman had me crying all the way back to the staffroom.




I've finally done it! Lift to school in the mornings + offer for an earlier lift if I want it, lift home from school if it's the right time, plus lifts to and from Zumba on Wednesdays!

Today  was pretty good coincidentally. Teacher's Day meant two things for me. Getting congratulated and double kissed by the school guidance counsellor who actually knew my name!!! (She did the same to all the other teachers but caringgg -which, obv means I do not...) And my grade 5 class telling me I'm the greatest/best ELA everrrr and hugging me (I didn't even have to make them) which basically made me feel like Michelle Obama for 5 minutes lol.




The madness never ends I swear. Today's highlights:

*I told them to come up with journalist names for their news stories based on the Holocaust book we'r reading in grade 6*

Me: You can't have that as a name, you can't call yourself Jesus. I meant like a first name, last name thing.

Girl: Jesus Christ! [her suggestion]

Me:....No....and that's not His last name....

*later in that class*

Girl: Can I put my last name as Hitler? [she was trying to make her name an ironic joke]

Me: No.

Girl: Why not? [ she honest to God didn't see it]

Me: Because that might be offensive to some people. [Definitely, to a large majority who know anything about life]


*In grade 5, G1's sister is tanned, brunette and brown eyed, she is blue eyed, pale and blonde, she asked G2 if it was the same with her sister, G2 was "darker"...convo murmurs on, and then.....*

Me hearing this off key discussion about to pop off...

Girl 1: Miss Emma was a little whiter than you, right?

^She may as well have started with ^

Me: Wait what?

how I wanted to look at her .

what I wanted to say.

Girl 1: You don't find, she was a bit whiter than you?

Girl 2: Yea, you don't think?

Me: *holding up my forearm* a bit?

what I wanted to say really....

Boy: Nah, you're noi-err darker, Miss Emma was bla-err whi-err way lighter... [bless him he didn't want to offend me but he could see what was wrong with the conversation lol]

Me: No, Mss Emma is white (I think, I know she's not black though lol), I am black.

*minor discussion of darker/lighter/whiter*

Girl 1 to Girl 2: [she saw nothing lol] So you're black!

Girl 2: I'm not black I'm just tan!

Me: 





Please believe there was a victory dance moment, LBG can testify to that. So, while everyone else will spend March thawing out in prep for summer, I'll hopefully be catching some rays and reconnecting with some of the great people I met. Peak if Cuba is rubbish the 2nd time around!!! For now though, my only goal is to not roll up in Havana looking like this: