Public transportation is a must in Georgia. Many people cannot afford to buy a car -- or if they can buy a Soviet-era jalopy on its last leg (or, wheel....) that burns oil faster than gas, they can't afford to fix it or replace the liquids it uses up so quickly. Public transportation is very affordable and readily available to most parts of the country -- it only costs 15 lari (less than $8.50) for a bus or marshutka from Zugdidi to Tbilisi (a five- or six-hour drive). And for one lari -- that's 56 cents (that the drivers still won't take from me), anyone from Shamgona can ride the 30-45 minutes it takes to lurch and jostle into Zugdidi on our marshutka. I know that I have written a few times about riding on my village's marshutka, but while on my way into Zugdidi today, I realized that the marshutka is a micro-cosm of this country's communal culture.
The marshutka is whatever anyone needs it to be: public transport, school bus, delivery vehicle, or private shuttle. While on my way out of town today, several of my students were on board -- those who live a little too far away from school to walk. When we got to their houses, the "bus" stopped, and out they went -- school bus minus the flashing lights and little "stop" sign that pops out.
If someone wants to send something to someone up the road, they send it via marshutka. Today Lika needed to get a note to one of her neighbors. She called her neighbor and told her to come out to meet the 12:30 marshutka -- Lika caught it on our end of the village, gave the note to the driver, and asked him to deliver it to its recipient. Anything can be sent up the road -- note, box, bag, or chicken. On our way back into the village this afternoon, the driver must have run errands for people while in town -- he stopped at three houses on the way through Shamgona, honked the horn, and handed over a shopping bag with purchases that he had stashed on the dash to whomever came out to answer the honk. I've even seen these exchanges take place long-distance -- like a mechanized pony-express.
Marshutkas can stop anywhere the riders need them to. Unlike buses that have designated places to get on and off, in the village, we can flag them down from anywhere. Tea actually had to run out of the house today and yell for it to stop for me -- it came by the house early, and I was just finishing lunch. And stopping is just as easy. "Gamicheret aq!"-- that's all it takes to bring the vehicle to a stop in front of whatever destination.
Sitting in the marshutka is a coveted position (although it's still not that comfortable for anyone with long legs). And the seating seems to be prioritized -- the elderly and women with small children are always given seats. Even if it is a difficult switch because of marshutka's capacity, men or younger women always give up their seats for older people, women with kids, or the uncommon "guest." (Non-Georgians don't ride marshutkas very often -- except for a few of us!) The few times that I have stood for the ride, I have thanked God for quality welding and rivets that securely hold the bars running the length of the ceiling as twenty or so people hold on for dear life. There are also what I call "doorkeeper" seats -- a carpeted banquette beside the driver's seat that the driver's friends usually occupy -- to help with bags or the door when needed.
Bags go anywhere and everywhere -- on the dash along with umbrellas, under the seats, stacked along the wall by the door or under the dash. The large, 100# bags of flour or sugar go inside the back door along with boxes or crates of chickens. Other bags go on the laps of those sitting down, making more room in the aisle to pack in more passengers.
Music is almost always playing in the marshutka -- loudly -- whether from the vehicle's radio or from a rider's phone. I love it when someone plays music from their phone -- tinny, static-y speakers blaring anything from traditional Georgian music to Lady Gaga to Russian remixes of American-top-40 from the 80's.
It really is a micro-cosm of the Georgian culture -- everything is done for the good of the whole. Discomfort of being squished in like sardines is endured so that everyone can have a ride to where they need to go. The lack of personal space is evident. Generosity is apparent on every ride -- whether on the part of the driver not taking payment or a fellow-rider giving up his seat. If it is raining or snowing out, the marshutka picks up anyone walking along the road. As uncomfortable as it can be, this ever-present mode of transportation is a necessity and a blessing -- a physical representation of the Georgian culture.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Blank
This is a day that I knew would come. It was bound to happen -- with promising to post a blog entry every day for seven months, it had to happen sometime: I have nothing to say today. At least, nothing uplifting, positive, or insightful. The day was pretty depressing.
It was another cold, rainy, hail-filled, snowy, gray day.
Across the street in the graveyard, a group of men dug a grave today. That must have been a brutal job in the cold wetness of the day. I kept thinking that digging a hole is hard enough work, but digging a grave when the dirt is heavy with water and the air is frigid must be absolutely wretched.
I updated my resume and started looking online for open teaching positions for next year. I'm not sure why that depresses me so much, but it does. Maybe because there are so few positions out there.
I've stared at my keyboard long enough and still have nothing. Tomorrow I'll find something less depressing!!
It was another cold, rainy, hail-filled, snowy, gray day.
Across the street in the graveyard, a group of men dug a grave today. That must have been a brutal job in the cold wetness of the day. I kept thinking that digging a hole is hard enough work, but digging a grave when the dirt is heavy with water and the air is frigid must be absolutely wretched.
I updated my resume and started looking online for open teaching positions for next year. I'm not sure why that depresses me so much, but it does. Maybe because there are so few positions out there.
I've stared at my keyboard long enough and still have nothing. Tomorrow I'll find something less depressing!!
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Listen more, laugh more
While I was running today, I enjoyed several things -- it wasn't raining (or hailing), I wasn't freezing my tail off, and I saw the season's first daffodils (although a pig was eating them). I had almost taken my ipod with me, but I am glad that I didn't; I would have missed some nice sounds -- the birds were singing today, two buffalo in the road had bells around their necks that harmonized nicely, and some of my sweet little students called, "Hello," to me from their houses. And I would have missed one of the things that made me laugh today.
As I was just about to turn around and head back to the house, I heard some funny splashing in the giant puddle on the side of the road. I looked over to see four ducks in the puddle, but it took me a second to recognize that they were ducks -- all I saw were four pointy duck-tails bobbing up and down in perfect time, moving side to side as if they were synchronized swimmers. They looked so funny -- all four of them upside-down in the water at the same time moving together as if they had practiced their choreography for months.
Later on I was in the bathroom washing some clothes. I had put some of the powdered detergent in the plastic tub with a little warm water and was swishing it around to dissolve the soap. Suddenly I heard Leban (who is in seventh grade) singing in the living room while playing Grand Theft Auto: Vice City on the computer. I listened carefully to hear him crooning away in the best Harry Connick, Jr. impression........the "ABC Song!"
Friday, February 11, 2011
A teacher of teachers
Some days I feel the gravity and importance of what I am doing here more heavily than others. Today was one of those days.
The Educational Resource Centers positioned all over Georgia function as offshoots of the Ministry of Education. Teachers go there to participate in trainings for the new Western educational system that the government wants implemented in all schools across the country. At our ERC in Zugdidi, there is an American English Language Fellow, Peggy who leads the English language teachers' trainings. Peggy is working at teaching the English teachers how to change their teaching style from Soviet-era to Western. Since I am part of the English department, I attend the trainings with my two co-teachers. We had one today.
Today's topic was Classroom Management -- a tricky one for even the most seasoned teacher -- but here in Georgia where real education has not been historically valued (under Soviet rule), disrespect and misbehavior are all-too-common problems in the classroom. I am fortunate to have mostly well-behaved students, but that is not the norm across the country. In today's training, Peggy introduced concepts like focus-activities to start a class, dealing with misbehavior as soon as it occurs, and having some type of penalty (a word none of the Georgian teachers knew....O, so telling.... They knew the word "punishment" but not "penalty") for not having homework completed. As an experienced teacher, I have used all of these concepts in my (American) classroom for years. But this was truly breaking new ground for the teachers at the meeting today. Most of them had no idea what Peggy was talking about for the focus activity nor the penalty for incomplete homework. (Tea was the exception here -- we have talked about all these things in our kitchen-talks.) Retraining the teachers in an entire country is a gigantic task -- a task that is much more difficult than it may seem. And we TLG teachers are a part of that task.
Equilibrium is difficult to find in trying to model Western-style education without completely taking over the local teachers' jobs. There are so many things that are not in place in the present educational system that are needed to support a Western teaching style -- the grading system, the curriculum, the basic philosophy of education -- it's like trying to play soccer on the bottom of the ocean -- not entirely impossible, but very difficult!
In Lika's and Tea's classes, I am working at slowly changing the way they approach teaching -- methods, activities, attitudes toward homework, grading. Taking one thing at a time is the best approach for them and the students. If we tried to change everything at once, it would be too overwhelming for everyone. Each week I broach a new topic in as delicate a way as I can to see if they are satisfied with the present system -- neither of them is, so I am free to suggest that we try something new. In the following days, I help them put new things into their lesson plans, then teach that part of the lesson to model the change for them. They are both excited at the changes and see that their students are going to greatly benefit from their new approaches.
Unfortunately, not all teachers are convinced that the new teaching styles are going to work. I am working with three teachers to prepare them for their upcoming certification exams -- Tea, Lika, and Sopo. Thursday I spent time with Sopo helping her with her writing. As we talked about school, I made a comment about spending time in class writing. She replied that there is no time what with having to review all the homework exercises that the students didn't do the night before and then "telling the lesson" -- meaning that students stand up and recite a ridiculously lengthy and irrelevant text from their book -- the very things that Peggy is teaching them to NOT do. I really wanted to tell her that she is wasting her time doing those things, but I don't know Sopo well enough yet -- so I bit my tongue and said something benign. But I can't let this go. In the coming weeks, I'll find some way to come back to the topic and try to reiterate what she is learning (or, supposed to be learning) from Peggy.
Teaching the teachers. That's part of my job -- and I think it is the most important part. These ladies will be here long after I am gone. They are the ones who will be teaching the students here for years to come. If I can help them become quality teachers, everyone will benefit.
The Educational Resource Centers positioned all over Georgia function as offshoots of the Ministry of Education. Teachers go there to participate in trainings for the new Western educational system that the government wants implemented in all schools across the country. At our ERC in Zugdidi, there is an American English Language Fellow, Peggy who leads the English language teachers' trainings. Peggy is working at teaching the English teachers how to change their teaching style from Soviet-era to Western. Since I am part of the English department, I attend the trainings with my two co-teachers. We had one today.
Today's topic was Classroom Management -- a tricky one for even the most seasoned teacher -- but here in Georgia where real education has not been historically valued (under Soviet rule), disrespect and misbehavior are all-too-common problems in the classroom. I am fortunate to have mostly well-behaved students, but that is not the norm across the country. In today's training, Peggy introduced concepts like focus-activities to start a class, dealing with misbehavior as soon as it occurs, and having some type of penalty (a word none of the Georgian teachers knew....O, so telling.... They knew the word "punishment" but not "penalty") for not having homework completed. As an experienced teacher, I have used all of these concepts in my (American) classroom for years. But this was truly breaking new ground for the teachers at the meeting today. Most of them had no idea what Peggy was talking about for the focus activity nor the penalty for incomplete homework. (Tea was the exception here -- we have talked about all these things in our kitchen-talks.) Retraining the teachers in an entire country is a gigantic task -- a task that is much more difficult than it may seem. And we TLG teachers are a part of that task.
Equilibrium is difficult to find in trying to model Western-style education without completely taking over the local teachers' jobs. There are so many things that are not in place in the present educational system that are needed to support a Western teaching style -- the grading system, the curriculum, the basic philosophy of education -- it's like trying to play soccer on the bottom of the ocean -- not entirely impossible, but very difficult!
In Lika's and Tea's classes, I am working at slowly changing the way they approach teaching -- methods, activities, attitudes toward homework, grading. Taking one thing at a time is the best approach for them and the students. If we tried to change everything at once, it would be too overwhelming for everyone. Each week I broach a new topic in as delicate a way as I can to see if they are satisfied with the present system -- neither of them is, so I am free to suggest that we try something new. In the following days, I help them put new things into their lesson plans, then teach that part of the lesson to model the change for them. They are both excited at the changes and see that their students are going to greatly benefit from their new approaches.
Unfortunately, not all teachers are convinced that the new teaching styles are going to work. I am working with three teachers to prepare them for their upcoming certification exams -- Tea, Lika, and Sopo. Thursday I spent time with Sopo helping her with her writing. As we talked about school, I made a comment about spending time in class writing. She replied that there is no time what with having to review all the homework exercises that the students didn't do the night before and then "telling the lesson" -- meaning that students stand up and recite a ridiculously lengthy and irrelevant text from their book -- the very things that Peggy is teaching them to NOT do. I really wanted to tell her that she is wasting her time doing those things, but I don't know Sopo well enough yet -- so I bit my tongue and said something benign. But I can't let this go. In the coming weeks, I'll find some way to come back to the topic and try to reiterate what she is learning (or, supposed to be learning) from Peggy.
Teaching the teachers. That's part of my job -- and I think it is the most important part. These ladies will be here long after I am gone. They are the ones who will be teaching the students here for years to come. If I can help them become quality teachers, everyone will benefit.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Instability
This word was in my head off and on all day today.
When I went to bed last night, it was raining that frigid rain again, but when I got up this morning, the air had warmed up and the clouds were breaking up. I was looking forward to some sunshine today. While walking to school, I got what I had been wishing for, although I noticed that the mountains in the distance were still socked in by clouds. About 30 minutes later, it was raining again -- big, fat drops pinged against the windows of the classroom in a random rhythm. The mountains had shaken off the gray clouds, and they had moved into the village. I noticed that they were fast-moving, loosely adherent clouds -- the kind that tell you that the weather is going to change constantly all day long. That was the first time the word "instability" popped into my head. As the weather held its promise, changing throughout the day from rain to sun to cloudy to warm then cold with hail to more rain, I kept thinking about that word.
The instability of the weather got me thinking about the situation in Egypt -- I'm not sure how my mind went from the weather to Cairo, but it did. (It was while I was running in the rain/no rain/hail/rain, and my mind often moves in random ways when I'm running.) I have been following the uprisings online since I can't understand a lot of what the Georgian news reporters say about it.
When the fighting first broke out, I wasn't sure how I felt about having been in the very place where the worst of the conflict was taking place only the week before. Seeing Tahrir Square packed with demonstrators, police, tanks, barricades and fires was one of the most surreal experiences I have felt. I stood there with my mouth agape, at a loss for words when I saw the news. It was like I was watching television -- I know that I was in reality, but I mean metaphorically -- it felt unreal. How could that really be the same place I had just walked the week before? How could a huge uprising have gathered so much momentum in only a week? Had it been stirring while we were there? It must have been. How did we not sense it? We went to the Egyptian Musuem that sits on one side of the square. We "Froggered" our way across those very lanes of traffic. We undoubtedly walked past and maybe talked to some of those very men now gathered in the rioting throng. I wonder if the two men who tried to get us to fall for the oldest trick in the Cairo-scam-a-tourist book are on the anti-goverment or pro-goverment side? (Since they tried slyly leading us to the "Government Bazaar," my guess is pro.)
Now as I reflect on the time that we spent there in light of the present situation, I am overwhelmed with gratitude for our safety. There are no coincidences in life, and I am thankful to God for the peace (well, as peaceful as Cairo ever can be) that still ruled while we were there, at least on the surface. I know that there has been unrest in Egypt for a long time -- that instability that I've been thinking about -- it seems that the storm clouds of conflict have settled over Egypt in the present political climate of instability. They must have been gathering just off the Nile while James, Katherine, and I flew to safety. And we didn't even know it.
Weird. I still don't know exactly how to feel about it -- thankful? yes. grateful? yes. humble? yes. blessed? most, certainly.
When I went to bed last night, it was raining that frigid rain again, but when I got up this morning, the air had warmed up and the clouds were breaking up. I was looking forward to some sunshine today. While walking to school, I got what I had been wishing for, although I noticed that the mountains in the distance were still socked in by clouds. About 30 minutes later, it was raining again -- big, fat drops pinged against the windows of the classroom in a random rhythm. The mountains had shaken off the gray clouds, and they had moved into the village. I noticed that they were fast-moving, loosely adherent clouds -- the kind that tell you that the weather is going to change constantly all day long. That was the first time the word "instability" popped into my head. As the weather held its promise, changing throughout the day from rain to sun to cloudy to warm then cold with hail to more rain, I kept thinking about that word.
The instability of the weather got me thinking about the situation in Egypt -- I'm not sure how my mind went from the weather to Cairo, but it did. (It was while I was running in the rain/no rain/hail/rain, and my mind often moves in random ways when I'm running.) I have been following the uprisings online since I can't understand a lot of what the Georgian news reporters say about it.
When the fighting first broke out, I wasn't sure how I felt about having been in the very place where the worst of the conflict was taking place only the week before. Seeing Tahrir Square packed with demonstrators, police, tanks, barricades and fires was one of the most surreal experiences I have felt. I stood there with my mouth agape, at a loss for words when I saw the news. It was like I was watching television -- I know that I was in reality, but I mean metaphorically -- it felt unreal. How could that really be the same place I had just walked the week before? How could a huge uprising have gathered so much momentum in only a week? Had it been stirring while we were there? It must have been. How did we not sense it? We went to the Egyptian Musuem that sits on one side of the square. We "Froggered" our way across those very lanes of traffic. We undoubtedly walked past and maybe talked to some of those very men now gathered in the rioting throng. I wonder if the two men who tried to get us to fall for the oldest trick in the Cairo-scam-a-tourist book are on the anti-goverment or pro-goverment side? (Since they tried slyly leading us to the "Government Bazaar," my guess is pro.)
Now as I reflect on the time that we spent there in light of the present situation, I am overwhelmed with gratitude for our safety. There are no coincidences in life, and I am thankful to God for the peace (well, as peaceful as Cairo ever can be) that still ruled while we were there, at least on the surface. I know that there has been unrest in Egypt for a long time -- that instability that I've been thinking about -- it seems that the storm clouds of conflict have settled over Egypt in the present political climate of instability. They must have been gathering just off the Nile while James, Katherine, and I flew to safety. And we didn't even know it.
Weird. I still don't know exactly how to feel about it -- thankful? yes. grateful? yes. humble? yes. blessed? most, certainly.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Work
"Speedy" will never be one of my nicknames. I am not fast - not when I run or walk or drive or do pretty much anything. But compared to Georgians, I could be Flash Gordon. If I want to walk alongside anyone, I have to walk at a pace that is almost painfully slow, otherwise I end up 20 feet ahead of them within thirty seconds. A snail's pace seems to be the pace at which most of life happens here (except for dancing, then it's blazing fast). I've been thinking about why everyone exerts as little energy as possible in every action (again, except for dancing), and in my wondering have come up with some interesting thoughts.
The slow pace affects many, many aspects of productivity in work and school. Nothing is ever done ahead of time. Everything happens at the last minute, and although everyone complains about it, nothing changes. Work is done just hard enough to keep the family and community existing at the status quo.
In the cultural training classes I took with my intake group the first week I was in Georgia, we identified a large list of underlying attitudes that affect a people's cultural practices. Today while looking at the list, I noticed two of the things that got me thinking about the snail's pace of Georgian life: tempo of work and incentive to work. In processing these two attitudes in light of what I have observed, I think that the tempo of work is a result of the incentive -- or in the case of Georgian culture, the lack thereof!
Georgia was a part of the former Soviet Union, and under that communist rule, there was little incentive to work..... at least to work hard. No personal gains were made by working hard -- it was all done for the good of the whole. And it seems that Capitalism has not yet caught on (outside of Tbilisi) although Georgia has been independent for two decades. When the Soviets lost power, they closed down many, many factories that had been the main source of jobs for many areas of Georgia (and Armenia). When I was in Yerevan with my fellow TLG teachers before Christmas, we took a tour of "Soviet Yerevan" and saw many, many abandoned factories on the outskirts of the city -- huge, hulking masses of crumbling concrete and rusting rebar that lay like giants of industry abandoned to the soot and dust of disuse. We drove for miles passing one vacant monstrosity after another. Our tour guide talked about working there during the "high times" of the factory-production (he hadn't worked there, but played a comedic, tongue-in-cheek role of someone who lived and worked at that time). The only incentive was to not get fired. Not many workers did much actual work. They showed up every day, and then did as little as possible.
This is the attitude toward work that I still see in so many people here - adults and students. Unemployment among men is rampant since the Soviet Union dissolved, but that was twenty years ago. What are the men waiting for? For the government to create jobs for them. A few have taken initiative and created their own businesses, but capital is needed for entrepreneurial ventures. In the Soviet system, few individuals made enough profit to become independently wealthy enough to finance their way to a better future. And so, they wait. Standing on the street in knots of black leather jackets and cigarettes -- role models for the upcoming generation of teenage boys who already exhibit the same lackadaisical symptoms in their inattentive (or completely absent) school work. As I look around me, I see little effort from most to make their lives better.
Maybe some don't want anything more out of life, or maybe they just aren't willing to work for it. The word "lazy" is thrown around daily to describe anyone who doesn't put forth any effort in their work. I think that maybe the laziness has been taught to the young people as a result of the adult's attitude toward work under the Soviet rule -- but now, with the absence of Soviet-style consequences coupled with the lack of available jobs, there is almost zero incentive to work.
Life here is hard. Maybe everyone is just tired. Every opportunity to sit down is relished with a huge sigh of "Deda....." Keeping one step ahead of defunct must be wearing. Weariness overshadows the incentive to work any harder than existence dictates.
So the pace of life is slow. Energy is not expended unnecessarily. And while I walk along with those I live around, I'll slow down to their speed. (When I dance with them, I'll work hard to keep up!) And while moving so slowly, I'll look for ways to inspire some new incentives that can propel the youth along a different path to a better future.
The slow pace affects many, many aspects of productivity in work and school. Nothing is ever done ahead of time. Everything happens at the last minute, and although everyone complains about it, nothing changes. Work is done just hard enough to keep the family and community existing at the status quo.
In the cultural training classes I took with my intake group the first week I was in Georgia, we identified a large list of underlying attitudes that affect a people's cultural practices. Today while looking at the list, I noticed two of the things that got me thinking about the snail's pace of Georgian life: tempo of work and incentive to work. In processing these two attitudes in light of what I have observed, I think that the tempo of work is a result of the incentive -- or in the case of Georgian culture, the lack thereof!
Georgia was a part of the former Soviet Union, and under that communist rule, there was little incentive to work..... at least to work hard. No personal gains were made by working hard -- it was all done for the good of the whole. And it seems that Capitalism has not yet caught on (outside of Tbilisi) although Georgia has been independent for two decades. When the Soviets lost power, they closed down many, many factories that had been the main source of jobs for many areas of Georgia (and Armenia). When I was in Yerevan with my fellow TLG teachers before Christmas, we took a tour of "Soviet Yerevan" and saw many, many abandoned factories on the outskirts of the city -- huge, hulking masses of crumbling concrete and rusting rebar that lay like giants of industry abandoned to the soot and dust of disuse. We drove for miles passing one vacant monstrosity after another. Our tour guide talked about working there during the "high times" of the factory-production (he hadn't worked there, but played a comedic, tongue-in-cheek role of someone who lived and worked at that time). The only incentive was to not get fired. Not many workers did much actual work. They showed up every day, and then did as little as possible.
This is the attitude toward work that I still see in so many people here - adults and students. Unemployment among men is rampant since the Soviet Union dissolved, but that was twenty years ago. What are the men waiting for? For the government to create jobs for them. A few have taken initiative and created their own businesses, but capital is needed for entrepreneurial ventures. In the Soviet system, few individuals made enough profit to become independently wealthy enough to finance their way to a better future. And so, they wait. Standing on the street in knots of black leather jackets and cigarettes -- role models for the upcoming generation of teenage boys who already exhibit the same lackadaisical symptoms in their inattentive (or completely absent) school work. As I look around me, I see little effort from most to make their lives better.
Maybe some don't want anything more out of life, or maybe they just aren't willing to work for it. The word "lazy" is thrown around daily to describe anyone who doesn't put forth any effort in their work. I think that maybe the laziness has been taught to the young people as a result of the adult's attitude toward work under the Soviet rule -- but now, with the absence of Soviet-style consequences coupled with the lack of available jobs, there is almost zero incentive to work.
Life here is hard. Maybe everyone is just tired. Every opportunity to sit down is relished with a huge sigh of "Deda....." Keeping one step ahead of defunct must be wearing. Weariness overshadows the incentive to work any harder than existence dictates.
So the pace of life is slow. Energy is not expended unnecessarily. And while I walk along with those I live around, I'll slow down to their speed. (When I dance with them, I'll work hard to keep up!) And while moving so slowly, I'll look for ways to inspire some new incentives that can propel the youth along a different path to a better future.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
The tongue eventually learns
Erti, ori, sami, otkhi, khuti, eqsvi, shvidi, rva.
Erti, ori, sami, otkhi, khuti, eqsvi, shvidi, rva.
Erti, ori, sami, otkhi, khuti, eqsvi, shvidi, rva.
Erti, ori, sami, otkhi, khuti, eqsvi, shvidi, rva.
This has been running over and over and over and over in my head all afternoon since dance class. It's the numbers one - eight in Georgian. And after hearing my dance teacher say them many, many, many times throughout the two and a half-hour class, the pattern of thought is stuck. As I went for a run after class, I counted. (Erti, ori, sami, otkhi, khuti, eqsvi, shvidi, rva.) As I stretched afterward, I counted. (Erti, ori, sami, otkhi, khuti, eqsvi, shvidi, rva.) As I showered, I counted. (Erti, ori, sami, otkhi, khuti, eqsvi, shvidi, rva.) About the 1,000th time the string of numbers played in my mouth, I realized something (erti, ori, sami, otkhi, khuti, eqsvi, shvidi, rva) -- not only do I know what these words mean, but I can say them with ease. (Erti, ori, sami, otkhi, khuti, eqsvi, shvidi, rva.) That is a vast, vast difference from only three months ago when I wrote down these then-so-foreign words while in California and stumbled through the pronunciation. (Erti, ori, sami, otkhi, khuti, eqsvi, shvidi, rva.) The first time I tried to say them was a riot! Especially "eqsvi" and "rva." As my dad used to say, "My tongue got twisted around my eye-teeth so I couldn't see what I was saying!" I didn't know how to form the sounds. The combinations of consonants were sounds that I had never made before -- at least not on purpose. Now I have no trouble combining a "q" with an "s" and a "v." (Erti, ori, sami, otkhi, khuti, eqsvi, shvidi, rva.)
I'm not entirely sure when my tongue loosened up, but I find myself saying Georgian words much more easily now. That is one of the things I find most interesting about language -- the sounds that are unique to each distinct one. When I first learned Spanish, I could not roll my "r" -- it wasn't until four years into studying the language that my mouth figured out how to make that sound. But since I have been speaking English all my life, I don't find any of its sounds difficult. I didn't think of any of them as tricky -- until teaching English as a foreign language. There are many sounds in English that give my Georgian-learners difficulty. Sounds like "ir" in "bird" or "girl;" almost no one can pronounce this correctly -- the "th" sound (hard and soft) comes out as "s," "z," or "d" -- the "w" is constantly mixed up with the "v" -- the combination of any vowel and "ng"-- the "r" -- and the list could go on.
In all fairness, there are still four Georgian letters that I cannot pronounce correctly -- there were seven, so I'm improving!
Teaching pronunciation is almost as frustrating as learning it. I have had lots of practice teaching Spanish pronunciation, so I know how to explain what is going on inside the mouth to form the uniquely-Spanish sounds. And I think I could explain how to form the English sounds.....but I don't know how to say any of that in Georgian. So I do a lot of pointing to various parts of my lips, throat, tongue, and teeth while over-emphasizing one, isolated sound. It gets pretty funny sometimes! But looking and sounding ridiculous is completely worth it when one of my students suddenly stumbles into the correct pronunciation through the unintelligible repetition of sound. Replicating the correct sound then becomes the trick....
So as I continue to teach and learn language, my mouth and my mind are being exercised. At least I have the counting pattern down for the exercise......erti, ori, sami, otkhi, khuti, eqsvi, shvidi, rva.
Erti, ori, sami, otkhi, khuti, eqsvi, shvidi, rva.
Erti, ori, sami, otkhi, khuti, eqsvi, shvidi, rva.
Erti, ori, sami, otkhi, khuti, eqsvi, shvidi, rva.
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