Let's get serious...

Lest you think that two governments are funding mere frivolity in providing me with money for tapas, sangria, and maybe vespas, let me assure you: we auxiliares are about to get to work, and I couldn’t be more excited. On Tuesday we had our first meeting with our coordinator, whom we had met briefly at the Fulbright welcoming reception during orientation.

It’s important to note that this will be a big year for the Comunidad de Madrid’s bilingual program, as the program is expanding to a much greater number of schools. My school has been bilingual for the past several years, and our coordinator, Claire, a straight-talking, enthusiastic Brit has been here for most (if not all) of that time. This doesn’t, however, exclude my school from feeling the effects of the transition. Teachers have moved to different schools; some who were not teaching in English before and who may not have much confidence in the language are now forced to give lessons entirely in English. With the current crisis económica, the schools lack resources, and the bureaucracy of the public school system is taking away much of the individual schools’ autonomy.

Sounds a bit rough, yeah? Claire laid all of that out for us, acknowledging that this year will be a challenge for all of us, from the directors to the teachers to the auxiliares. But we’ve got a great opportunity in all of that. Each of us Fulbrighters will probably end up working one on one with teachers who need a bit of assistance with their English. We’re going to be creating our own resources: presentations, worksheets, etc. to go along with the teachers’ lessons. And our biggest goal?

To make reading fun.

Umm, I live for books. I have this passion for literacy. Plato may have kicked the poets out of his Republic, but I’m all for a world where words matter.

During my layover in Dublin on my way to Madrid, I started to read, Julio Cortázar’s Rayuela, which the Argentine writer published in 1963. This line jumped out at me: “Cuántas veces me pregunto si esto no es más que escritura, en un tiempo en que corremos al engaño entre ecuaciones infalibles y máquinas de conformismos.” (So many times I ask myself if this is nothing more than writing, in a time in which we run the risk of deception among our infallible equations and the machinery of conformity - the translation’s mine and not perfect.) Writing, in this chapter at least, serves as a way in which “inventamos nuestro incendio, ardemos de dentro afuera” (we invent our fire, we burn from inside out).

That’s our goal as auxiliares: to create in our students a passion for learning, and we’re doing this through language. Our position offers us a unique opportunity, as we’re not teachers. We’re not responsible for grades. We’re in these schools this year to support both the teachers and the students, and that allows us more freedom to come up with creative and fun projects to expand these kids’ educational horizons. Because we’re only here briefly, we’re less accountable to the imposed bureaucracy inherent in any public school system. We’re not considered a threat to established educational equations, the conformity imposed by the Comunidad. We hold that cliched blank slate (only today it’s a smart board), and we’re going to make something of it. All of this makes me very excited to get into the classroom on Monday.

Mi vida española

A bike race through my neighborhood earlier today!

Last night, while out enjoying tapas in La Latina with a few other Fulbrighters, I had a moment of revelation: This is my life. I don’t know how to explain it otherwise. We had crammed into the back of the tapas bar, were passing around olives and tostas with brie, fruit, bacalao, sharing cerveza and sangria, and just having great conversation.

In talking to each other, we’ve all confessed to a certain anxiety in being Fulbrighters in Madrid: we were worried we’d be coming into a group of stuffy academics, but that’s not what we’ve found. Overall, we’re a group of focused, passionate people, who’ve found a program that will allow us to do what we love to do for a year while living in a fascinating city. It astounds me everyday that I’m in Madrid, and that they’re paying me to just BE here and speak English and do whatever else I find to involve myself in. And others of us are here studying the Spanish diet by devouring delicious dishes, Flamenco by dancing our hearts out, Mars by constructing robots that will actually visit the planet.

This past Friday marked both two full weeks since my arrival in Madrid and one week since Janel and I had moved into our piso. I’ve crammed a lot into the past week - a picnic in Retiro, trips to the Prado and the Reina Sofia, shopping expeditions at IKEA (a bit overwhelming with its Spanish/Finnish labels and metric measurements) and the small markets around the city. While out at tapas, Janel asked us all (with the acknowledgment, that “this is a hippy-dippy question, but I went to a liberal arts school,” as did most of us): What have you learned so far in Spain?

Answers varied from my commenting that I had just learned that morning that it’s illegal to hang your laundry on the front balcony of your apartment to some deeper answers. Patience. Trust. I don’t know what I’ll be doing tomorrow or a year from now, and in some ways I feel like I’m using this year to keep from having to answer those questions. I’m feeling good about it though; I’ve got time.

A list of things to look forward to:

-Walking the pilgrimage route along the Camino de Santiago with Leah, probably next month over the Fiesta Nacional de España, when I have an extra long weekend

-Getting involved with Amigos del Burro, an organization that rescues mistreated donkeys and invites groups of city kids out to its facilities to experience a bit of country life

-The possibility of a Vespa. I visited a dealer this weekend; next step is to find out from the American Embassy what I would need as a foreigner to own one / drive in Spain.

-My clarinet’s arrival and the potential for some improvving with fellow Fulbrighters who play guitar and violin

La Calle de Delicias: One Week In

After opening my last blog entry with some thoughts on anxiety, perhaps I should begin this one with a sense of peace. I find it strange how relaxed I’ve really been during my first week in Madrid, especially while in search of a piso. In my first week here, I’ve seen much of the city while scouting for potential neighborhoods. I’ve cold-called countless online ads and numbers off the street (Hola, buenas. ¿Ví que usted tiene una habitación para alquilar? Ah, ya la ha alquilado. Bueno, gracias.), asked countless Spanish grandmothers and shopkeepers for directions, and chatted with wedding dress designers, physics students, teachers, government officials, policewomen, all in search of the perfect room.

And now here I am en la Calle de las Delicias, the street of delights, because yesterday was piso day, as Janel (my new Fulbright flatmate) and I affirmed as we took off on the metro to see an attic room in Lavapiés. I instantly knew I couldn’t live there, but she was trying to talk herself into it. I suggested wandering Atocha, instead, as I had fallen in love with the neighborhood two days previously when checking out a couple of other rooms. Besides the Museo Reina Sofia, bookstores, music conservatories, theaters, and several supermarkets, Atocha boasts a train station where I can catch a cercanía, which will make my four day a week commute outside of the city a bit easier.

And we found a place! Nuestra casa en la Calle de las Delicias begins to remind me of la casa en la Calle de Aribou from Carmen Laforet’s novel Nada. A bildungsroman of its protagonist, Andrea, Nada relates Andrea’s growing awareness of her place in the world and a certain ambivalence about her vocation as a writer, a profession she decides reduces her to mere spectator.

Nuestra casa en la Calle de las Delicias, new home to a few language students, may serve as the antithesis to Andrea’s resignation from the arts. Our landlord, Fausto, studies theater and works in set design. This piso is going to serve as the backdrop of our year in Madrid. Fausto assures us that this is “una casa que cambia,” a house that changes the people who live in it. I’ll accept that, though I’m fairly sure that this Fulbright experience would have accomplished that no matter where I ended up living in the city. And though I don’t yet know what’s coming next as we settle in and start teaching, I’m feeling ready for it. It’s going to be a great year.

Unpacking my room; note the horse/cheetah painting, Tiffany style lamp and light streaming in from my balcony.

Photo Credit: Janel