Travels and Transitions

I'm getting on a bus tonight. I arrive in Buenos Aires tomorrow morning. I get on a plane tomorrow night. I land in Dallas on Saturday morning. I board another plane four short hours later and will land in Fort Wayne, Indiana where my family will (hopefully) be to greet me. ;) I've written all of the above and know that, God-willing, all my travels will go as planned, and yet, everything I've written feels about as real to me right now as going to Argentina felt about nine months ago when I wrote my first blog entry from the states. I knew that I was commencing some grand, hopefully positive, surely unknown adventure on the the other half of the planet. Nonetheless, there is no way that I could have imagined all the amazing experiences that I have had since arriving here. I'm looking forward too to the end of January when I will be returning to Resistencia. Until that time comes though, I am anxious to spend time at home with friends and family, to eat lots of spicy food, to see snow and have to bundle up in truly cold weather (and have the pleasure of coming home to central heating), to sing Christmas carols and ring in 2012 and certainly to share much of what I have learned here with anyone who crosses my path and is interested.

As the age-old saying goes, "All good things must come to an end." However, with those good things that come to an end also often come celebrations in commemoration of those things. Likewise, while my Fulbright scholarship came to its conclusion almost four weeks ago, I have had the pleasure of celebrating, at multiple times, with multiple groups, the work I accomplished this year and the relationships that we have collectively built. These gatherings included a small surprise party at San Fernando on my last day teaching, a planned "going away" party with a larger group of professors and students from San Fernando and a surprise party thrown by a group of friends from church. While I would love to expound on the details of each of these, my bus leaves in approximately an hour....I may or may not write while I'm stateside. To be honest, I haven't really decided yet. I'm sure though that there will be stories to be told about my culture shock and funny anecdotes about moments where I accidentally say something to someone in Spanish. Thank you all for your continuous support, whether it be simply reading my blog, sending e-mails of support or chasing me down to have a skype date. Much love to all.

(Extended) Recap!

My sincerest apologies to anyone who has been diligently following my blog. If you aren't living with me here in Resistencia (i.e. seeing me on a fairly regular basis), you might have come to one of the following conclusions in the last month: a) I was abducted by aliens, b) I decided to enroll at clown school and joined the circus, c) I have spent substantial amounts of time with a particular young man of interest as a significant other, or d) I was arrested for trying to initiate Denison's naked week ultimate frisbee game in the central plaza. One of these statements is true; I'll leave it up to you to discern what's true and what's not. One other thing is for certain though: I am a failed blogger in the last month. Today I'm going to briefly recap late-October/November/early-December and tomorrow or Wednesday follow up with a final entry to bring "Argentina Round One" to a close.

(Not) Getting a Visa. This is a rather long story and one that I'd rather not dwell on anyhow so I'll keep it as short and politically correct as possible. The need arose for me to renew my visa to stay for the couple of extra weeks that I'll be here before coming home for Christmas. This involved me going to Corrientes as Resistencia doesn't have its own Migrations/Foreign Affairs office. Honestly, not such a huge deal as I was able to stay the night before with Corrientes ETA, Hannah, and walk to this office in the morning, rather than being in transit super early from Resistencia. Late October I went to this office (for the first time) with what I thought was the necessary paperwork in hand, but instead was handed a form and given directions to return with a couple of additional items in order to finalize the visa renewal. At this point I was relatively excited because the woman at the office told me that my visa would be renewed not just until my desired departure date, but for a whole calendar year (i.e. til November 13, 2012).
Of course, this was too good to be true...I returned to the office mid-November with the collection of documents in hand, first, to wait four hours because their computer system wasn't running. Then, all my prior hopes were dashed when a second woman at the Migrations office delivered the following blows: first, that my visa be renewed only until the date listed on my Fulbright letter, and second that I would have to go to a bank in Chaco to deposit the necessary 300 peso fine and then return again to Corrientes to finish up the paperwork. My other option at this point: simply go to the airport with 300 pesos in hand in December and pay the fine there for overstaying my visa. Decision: made. To the airport I'll go. 

Photo of Viviana Cimbaro Canella (with Máximo in front) and part of the extended family in this photo from baby Máximo's baptism in Puerto Tirol, November 27th.

My Students (and being a student). My classes at San Fernando officially ended two and a half weeks ago sadly marking the end of my year as a Fulbright ETA. While the year had its share of moments that I would consider highs, lows and everywhere in between, I have undoubtedly gained a plethora of teaching skills and have started to grasp, I think, many of the irregularities and general unpredictability of Argentina's education system. I have taught about the culture of the United States, occasionally tried to imitate a British accent, done plenty of review on the nuts and bolts of my own language, learned a great deal about phrasal verbs, and had students at all levels, from high school and the introductory language level at San Fernando to well-seasoned fourth year students who will soon graduate. As I look forward to next year in Resistencia, I hope these experiences will work to my benefit in a couple of ways. First, I expect to continue teaching English in a couple of private institutions as well as in the context of private tutoring. Second, I have plans to enroll as a student at San Fernando Rey in the coming year. Yes folks, you read that correct: Teresa is going to be a university student again and is pretty excited about it (plus, it's easier to get a visa when I'm a student. see story one from this blog entry).

Basketball. Those who have known me for a long period of time know that in high school I had a patellar subluxation for the first time. Basically, my knee cap slid to the outside of my knee and popped back into place, fortunately without tearing any of the tendons or ligaments within my knee. Unfortunately, this happened again while I was at basketball practice at the end of October. I am exponentially thankful that, again, nothing was torn but I did take a hiatus from physical activity for a couple weeks. Since then, especially with the arrival of spring's beautiful weather, I've been running outside and focusing on strength-related rehabilitation exercises. While the coming year won't include me playing basketball with the club team, for a variety of reasons, I am grateful for all that I have been able to share culturally with my teammates. It has been a noteworthy experience relearning a sport, Argentine style, that has been part of my life for many, many years.

December 3rd: Apple pie baking with my students Jesus and Susana and Susana's son Juan Cruz!

Thanksgiving. I'm not going to lie, it was rough to be away from home for a major holiday for the first time- from turkey and stuffing, family gatherings, American football, the Macy's parade, laughing at the ridiculous Black Friday shoppers, catching relatives trying to cheat in board games, and pumpkin pie, of course. On the flip side, it was a sunny 85 degrees here and I spent the afternoon poolside at my supervisor's house with Hannah (Corrientes ETA). I was thankful that I had a family who was more than happy to Skype with me on that day and am thankful to be going home this Friday to spend some quality time, including Christmas and the New Year, with those I love. I also had my fair share of opportunities here to share with others about my Thanksgiving traditions and how I give special thanks to God on this annual celebration for each of my many blessings.

To the Polls!

National elections were held here in Argentina yesterday. Again. For something like the fourth or fifth time since I've been here. If you're here in Argentina reading this, you're likely thinking So what? I don't get what the big deal is? and if you happen to be in the United States reading, I imagine you're thinking Four elections in one year?! What went wrong? But yes, in fact, having these four elections in a single year is not out of the ordinary in Argentina and I wanted to take a moment to comment on this part of Argentine society that is so distinct from the electoral system that we find in the US.

• Voting is compulsory. As I briefly mentioned in a prior post, voting is mandatory for citizens here in Argentina. Each individual's officially declared address determines in which municipality s/he votes; I have numerous students, for example, who live here in Resistencia but have not officially changed their address, and thus, travel back to their towns in other parts of Chaco to vote on election day. Individuals unable to be in their town on election day cannot complete an absentee ballot per say like I am able to do in the states (at least as far as I have been able to decipher voting procedures/regulations). However, if they happen to be over 500 kilometers from their home, an individual is not required to report to vote and can, instead, report to the local police station on the day of elections, wherever they happen to be, to make an official record of their reason for not voting.
• The presidency is decided strictly by voting percentages. No complicated electoral college system in Argentina (which is a beast to explain/teach, by the way, as I have attempted to do so in a few of my classes here that touch on culture). The president wins strictly on the premise of garnering the largest percentage of the popular vote, with at least a ten percent margin of difference between her/him and the runner-up candidate. Yesterday, Cristina Fernández de Kirchner was re-elected in a landslide, winning nearly 54% of the vote with candidates Hermes Binner, Ricardo Alfonsín, and A. Rodríguez Saá gaining other "significant" percentages of the vote with 17%, 11% and 8%, respectively. Apparently Cristina's victory was also a new historical high for the percentage vote won by a presidential candidate since the return of democratic processes after the military governments of the late 70's and early 80's (Alfonsín was the previous name alongside this record, winning 51.7% of the vote in 1983).
• Local politicians have a lot of sway in deciding when their elections will be, apart from the national elections. I can describe why these local and provincial level elections happen separate from their national counterparts about as clearly as I can describe the U.S.'s electoral college system to my students; it's complicated-- bear with me. While many places here are moving toward/already using computers in an electronic voting system, the paper ballots utilized previously were marked by their perforations and the necessary tearing off of certain parts of the ballot to mark one's vote (think Florida's controversial "chad" situation in the 2000 elections and you're closer to understanding this system). In other words, it can be rather simple to vote for all the candidates of a single political party by tearing off all portions of the ballot along a single perforated line. If officials seeking reelection believe this party-line voting might work against them, it is not unheard of, nor uncommon, that they create a separate election day for a particular office (i.e. given that other offices in contest would include strong candidates of an opposing political party, the elected official fears the potential of losing these votes that s/he might otherwise win on an "independent" ballot).
• Voting is held in schools, always on Sundays, and there is a lottery to decide which teachers must work at elections. Additionally, in schools like mine (San Fernando Rey) where they have voting on Sunday, classes are cancelled on Monday to promote a full cleaning of the school facilities after being utilized by hordes of voters. I didn't really take note after past election days whether the institute seemed cleaner (or not) upon our return on Tuesday (tabled mental note to be resurfaced when I go to work tomorrow). Finally, I do feel bad for the teachers whose efforts are solicited for these full day civic duties; frankly, they don't have a choice on whether to accept the responsibility or not and it's my impression that they have to work the entire day (from 8:00 am to 6:00 pm).

There you have it: the very basics of elections and voting in Argentina. I know there are plenty of details that have not yet crossed my radar, that I wouldn't want to bore you with, and/or that I have already forgotten, but I hope the above details provide a brief snapshot of the election process here. In my opinion, having four separate elections with obligatory voting responsibilities in less than 8 months is borderline obnoxious. On the flip side, I certainly know more about this electoral system than if there had only been one election in my tenure of living in Chaco. :)

Questions

“The truth is that our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply uncomfortable, unhappy, or unfulfilled. For it is only in such moments, propelled by our discomfort, that we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for different ways or truer answers.” M. Scott Peck

Do you miss home?: I can't even begin to count the number of times that I've been asked this question since I arrived here in March. But just as many times as I have been asked, my response has been the same: Sure, there are people, and things, and foods that I miss from home. But, there are truly just as many individuals, and foods, and traditions here that I love having the chance to learn about and embrace as a newcomer to Argentina and Chaco's cultures. I usually then become an audience-of-one for a mini-lecture on how awesome asados are or how unique the Argentines are in the way they use the Spanish language to communicate with one another.

Do you like it here?: also an inquiry that tops the FAQ list of my life in Resistencia, finding its way into my conversations on almost a daily basis. I respond truthfully that, Yes, I really love my life here right now. Simultaneously, I brace myself for the look of surprise that will almost inevitably cross the face of whoever it is with whom I am talking. Chaqueños tend to be very proud of their culture, and they seem to ask this question about my life experiences here with an earnest search for a real/truthful response. And yet, many exhibit a reaction of relative surprise, even mild shock, when I share that I truly enjoy their homeland, their culture. Sure, there are things that, given the opportunity, I would change (or opt for bringing in from my life in the United States) including, but not limited to, central heating in the winter, less dog poop on the sidewalk and, while they're at it, more level sidewalks to avoid public displays of my clumsiness, a Chinese restaurant,a Mexican restaurant, anything spicy!, and a bit less of the glaring machísmo. Nonetheless, I've come to love Sunday asados, seeing Resistencia come back to life in the evening after her sleepy siesta, the general freedom I have to get from place to place even without a car, taking in the handicrafts, music, cinematic productions, dance, etc. of local artists from both contemporary and traditional practices, and a rhythm of life that "forces" me to enjoy today to the fullest because no one really knows what tomorrow will bring.

What are you doing after your Fulbright grant ends in November?: Over the past few months, this question has also unrelentingly plagued my in-person conversations with individuals here in Argentina and my Skype chats with friends and family in the United States. For a long time my response has been, That's a great question! followed by a shared laugh and run-down of numerous possible post-November scenarios. Any of my dear friends in the states who have recently graduated from high school or college probably know all too well what it feels like to be asked this question-- like an hourglass glued to the table in front of you with its sand streaming through to the bottom half; like final Jeopardy with the stage lights low and that unforgettable 30-second tune playing in the background; like an action movie where the bomb's clock is ticking down to 00:00:00 and you have to snap the right wire to deactivate the explosive and save the city. Feel free to pick your own appropriate analogy for this situation of urgency regarding impending life changes. I do in fact have a "plan" for when my grant ends but I'm going to share a short anecdote first to preface my response...

Several months ago, in discussing the aforementioned, Do you miss home? question, one of my students shared that she was really impressed that "I had been living here since day one of my arrival." I kind of laughed and replied logically, Thanks. Of course I've been living here since I arrived; I suppose it's a kind of personal success that I haven't bailed out. But she insisted on a more philosophical understanding of her comment, clarifying that she had seen other foreigners pass through Chaco and not ever really [attempt to] embrace the Argentine culture in which they were living. She shared, in a nutshell, that she had observed me diving headfirst into learning about life in Chaco, exploring my passions and discovering some new ones, sharing my culture, and finding a way to combine all of these elements to enrich my own life and that of others. During my first months in Argentina, my response that Yes, I like this culture was, more than anything, a statement to reassure myself that my efforts of acculturation in my job and my daily life would eventually pay off. Over time, I actually in love with this city, its culture, its people, and, through my English assistant work, my own language and culture in new ways.

Thus, I had found myself at the crossroads of the What comes after Fulbright? question and couldn't envision myself giving up and leaving, yet, the relationships of trust and camaraderie that I've worked so hard to build over the last seven months. And so, with one English-teaching job secured and another one or two favorable prospects, I will be living in Resistencia again in 2012. There are, of course, uncertainties left to be resolved, primarily the remaining schools in which I will ultimately be working and new living arrangements. However, if these details were already clearly laid out in finite detail, I would question whether I was actually living in the Argentina of loose organization that I have come to know and love. ;) Before I dive into another year, though, I look forward too to re-energizing at home, seeing family and friends, and spending Christmas and New Year's Eve/Day enveloped in some of my favorite cultural traditions. I have no doubt that questions similar to those I have highlighted above will continue to fill my conversations here in the next year; likewise, I can only imagine how my responses will continue to evolve. Without them...well, I would just be an apathetic expat in need of some critical self-reflection therapy.

Oktoberfest

Group dynamics are always "fun" to navigate. So what do you get when you mix 20 recent U.S. college graduates who are all highly-motivated, high-achieving and strongly opinionated and throw them into 11 different Argentine provinces (17 distinct cities) with the task of teaching/sharing U.S. culture and the English language with future teachers of English?... Well, the truth is you get quite a variety of unforgettable life stories and acculturation experiences but you also get an occasional need to reunite, to use the colloquial words that make our use of the English language alive and organic (rather than dry and textbook-dictated), to laugh about how our use of Spanish is starting to interfere with our English-speaking abilities, and to enjoy some artisan crafted micro-brews. Last weekend was our shining moment as assistants to do just that, and include a few Argentine, German, and U.S. friends in the momentous reunion.

If you remember a little over two months ago I went with my parents to Villa General Belgano during their visit to Argentina. Last weekend I returned to this little village in the sierras of Córdoba to enjoy its annual, much-anticipated Oktoberfest festivities amidst the company of other Fulbrighters and their friends. I arrived at midday on Friday and made the short hike to our cabins at Aldea Champaquí 57. I don't think we could have asked for a more perfect setting with our cabin: space enough for nearly the entire group (a select few had a cabin just a block away), within walking distance from the center of town and Oktoberfest events (but not on top of any craziness that might accompany the festivities), a grassy back yard, hammocks and chairs to lounge in, and a quincho to have an asado. Our group poured into VGB throughout the day and, as many of us hadn't seen one another since our mid-term seminar at the end of June, spent the afternoon catching up on life and sharing stories. I also took a stroll through town with a few others and marveled at the time and energy that had clearly been invested to dress up VGB for these two weeks of cultural celebrations. Friday night culminated with an asado, well-executed by Brad (ETA in San Luis) and accompanied by Gillian (stationed in San Martin, Mendoza).  

Saturday started for me with a run and a hike- wonderful for my physical fitness, not so lovely for my allergies that reemerge with the arrival of spring. Our hike was to the top of neighboring hills, Cerro de la Virgen and Pico Aleman where we were treated after our rather steep climb to some fantastic views of Villa General Belgrano and the surrounding sierras and, for some fair-skinned individuals among the group, some rather piercing sunburn.

View from Cerro de la Virgen

We made it to the top of Pico Aleman!

The small statue in the bottom-left corner of the photo is the Virgen at the top of her hill.

Our hiking crew (LtoR: Grant, Brad, Gillian, Anna, Carolyn, Alli)

After our descent to the cabins and cleaning up, it was time to get down to business and check out all that Oktoberfest had to offer in town. I purchased the indispensable stein that would hold my adult beverages for the weekend and entered the Parque Cervecero, i.e. the beer garden. Throughout the weekend this space also housed the main stage where performances by troupes of dancers and music groups highlighted music and dance from a vast number of European nations. Saturday afternoon's events also featured a beer keg tapping at the foot of the stage which I initially decided I wanted to be a part of. However, after nearing the stage with fellow ETA Grant and realizing that I was amidst a large, rambunctious crowd of men, I quickly resolved to a return to the exponentially more peaceful location of my seat to observe the tapping ceremony. No worries though on how fast I was able to remove myself before the tapping started as, in fine Argentine form, the music to announce the keg tapping started nearly a full half-hour before the actual kegs made their presence on the stage. Having taken in our share of music, dancing, keg-tapping, and taste tests of a few beers, we headed back to the cabins for some fabulous empanadas made by Grant (who also blogged about the weekend here), pizzas and some charged rounds of Apples to Apples.

Main street of Villa General Belgrano and entrance to Oktoberfest

Main stage for performances

The crowd, and its craziness, for the espiche, i.e. keg tapping.

Some happy Fulbrighters and friends on a very sunny, Sunday afternoon

I didn't know Duff beer (from The Simpsons) actually existed. Apparently it does, here in Argentina.

The jolly old man with his beer stein whose face we saw on the primary propaganda flyer for this year's Oktoberfest.

If you look closely, you'll see the fake pretzels and beer mugs hanging from this elaborate wreath amidst some shops in town. The only thing that could have made my weekend better would have been a soft pretzel...

 Sunday was a welcome close-repeat of Saturday's activities with a run and new hiking adventure to Pozo Verde and Cerro Mirador. It would be a shame if I didn't note here that the weekend's weather was absolutely gorgeous. With abundant sun, a light breeze and comfortably cool evenings,we couldn't have dreamed of a better weekend for an unofficial Fulbright reunion. Sunday afternoon was spent again at Oktoberfest and Sunday evening, a significant portion of our group went to Viejo Munich, the restaurant of one of the well-known artisan micro-breweries in town, to wish Jen's (Villa Maria, Cordoba assistant) roommate, Alicia, a safe return trip to Germany. What a better way to send a German off with well-wishes than at a restaurant where she might enjoy some of the food to which she would soon be eagerly returning?! I was happy to be ordering beef stroganoff again, a dish that I miss occasionally from my mom's kitchen. Passing back through town just before midnight, Oktoberfest had arrived at its final minutes for the day. Nonetheless, the fact that the park would be closing in a matter of minutes certainly didn't stop us from storming in and joining a variety of other festival-goers on the stage for some rather spontaneous dancing.

Monday, all the "Fulbrighters & friends" gradually headed out of Villa General Belgrano and back to our respective provinces. If you had told me in June 2010 at our initial orientation in Washington, D.C. that our Fulbright group would become as tightly-knit as it is today, I might have rolled my eyes at you and said something like "Yeah, sure. We're going to be spread out for 8 months, over hundreds of miles, all over Argentina and you expect us to mesh as a sort of family?" But I feel grateful (and rather sappy) in sharing that this initially unimaginable group dynamic has come to fruition and that I'll dearly miss our Argentina Fulbright family when our grants end in November and everyone continues on their distinct life paths. At the risk of sounding cliché (ok, it's going to sound cliché whether I want it to or not), our Oktoberfest gathering couldn't have been a better final reunion. Besides, who doesn't love a cold micro-brew or two and a side of sauerkraut?

I. LOVE. SPRING.

*Caveat: I started this blog entry over a week ago and life has been a bit crazy. More on recent life to come, but my entry on Día del estudiante and Día de la Primavera for today...

Wednesday, September 21st, marked two rather exciting events here in Resistencia (and, generally in Argentina). Whether you take the position that these events are worthy of an official vacation day or not, my institution was closed on Wednesday in honor of: the arrival of spring and día del estudiante (students' day). I asked a variety of people why we officially had the day off (i.e. Was the holiday for the first day of spring or for students' day?), and I don't think I really got a definitive answer one way or another. However, I did take note that a majority of businesses were not closed on Wednesday, leading me to believe that the holiday [for those who had it] is more a celebration of students' day. At any rate, the weather was beautiful on Wednesday, announcing spring's arrival, and I celebrated with many students so I suppose you might call me an "equal opportunity celebrator" of these September 21st holidays.

Truthfully, my exposure to the holidays began on Tuesday while teaching at San Fernando. On arriving at the institute, I noticed some very loud music playing, audible just outside the institute, in its open-air, enclosed patio and inside many of its classrooms. So loud was the music that I thought it was playing on San Fernando's cement patio (which sits just behind the building) where students often gather to have mate or chat. You can imagine my surprise when I realized that the music was actually coming from the school behind our institute, a decent 100 yards [away at its closest point]. The students there were having some sort of outdoor celebration, playing music through a powerful sound system and engaging in a variety of other games. I gave a lesson to second year students that day connecting an individual's acculturation process with Aldous Huxley's Brave New World, and while I could easily tune out everything [linguistically] that was happening outside, you can imagine how difficult my students found it to pay attention during the lesson. Spanish music playing outside and English being spoken by the teacher in the classroom- I think you know which one of these won over in my students' natural attention spans.

Celebrations continued that evening in the central plaza of Resistencia. I went with a basketball teammate to watch the grand parade for Día del Estudiante. This city gathering consists of nearly every public high school's representation in the parade with an elaborate float and accompanying troupe of dancers made up from students at the school. I guess this competition is a pretty big deal and students invest a lot of time and effort into the floats and their performances. After witnessing this Día del Estudiante spectacle/tradition I can officially say that I've been to a parade that I think was more monotonous than Granville's 4th of July parade. All the students were lined up to pass in front of the principal stage in a timely manner, but there was an inexplicable, significant delay of nothingness between each group/float's advancement (somewhere between five and ten minutes).

Anyways, we watched a handful of floats and, truthfully, I was pretty unimpressed with most of the dances that had been arranged until I saw one final group before our departure. This school's students were dressed in all-white outfits and moved forward in a somber sort of way to the main presentation stage. Their dance was not only performed in unison but, more importantly, it featured choreography and music that were in remembrance of those persecuted and killed during Argentina's military government in the 70's and 80's. As I caught glimpses of this group performing, I thought that yes, there is still hope that this generation can rise up and invest themselves in something meaningful, something life-changing for themselves and generations of Argentines to come.

On Día del Estudiante itself, I joined a rather large group of students from my church who went to a park just outside the city. There, we started the day with a couple organized activities then dispersed to enjoy some sports, listening to music, eating lunch and simply enjoying the day. I don't think we could have asked for more perfect weather to usher in the official start of spring, and while I know we still have days that will be cooler than preferred in the next month, I am certainly looking forward to afternoons with blinding sun and evenings where I might sit outside on my back porch or at a restaurant with friends to enjoy dinner.

Día del Estudiante didn't end on Wednesday though; it continued on Thursday when we returned to San Fernando for classes. Mid-morning, we started hearing rumors from people that the student union had a surprise for the students and shortly thereafter, the following group appeared in the institute's central patio:

Two huge base drums, a snare drum and two other miscellaneous percussion instruments = enough noise to totally eliminate the possibility of having class for probably 15 minutes. I can't remember at the moment what the Brazilian name is for this street percussion ensemble...

I also found these displays at the institute rather interesting and very educational. They show many of the high school students from the province who were rather active in their student associations and/or politics in the time of the most recent military dictatorship. As a result of their activism, they were taken away by the government, never to be heard of again.

Just a bit of reflection on Día del Estudiante before I bring this entry to a close: while I haven't talked to many teachers, it seems that most were not wildly in favor of the holiday. Obviously instruction time is missed in the classroom on the holiday itself but at the high school level students also apparently miss classes here and there prior to the big day to prepare their floats and perfect their dance routines. So, the source of support for this holiday still perplexes me a bit (local, provincial and national government support?), but regardless, it is quite the collective celebration for young people here. As I move on to future entries here, I promise to be a more devoted blogger, especially in the next week as I have several days off. Explanation on that to come as there is much to be shared from recent life in Resistencia...

British English v. American English

My supervisor at San Fernando, and the director of our English teacher training program, enjoys joking with me that I’m learning a great deal of British English while, ironically, living in Argentina. It’s quite funny how true this actually is. I giggle a little bit to myself every time I hear, “Can I go to the toilet please?” from the junior high students I with whom volunteer. This British influence/tradition comes from the fact that the first English presence, regarding both language variety and personnel, in Argentina was of British origin. Even today, there are many professors who have been trained strictly from a British English perspective and who adhere to this culture in their teaching. In our world that is rapidly changing/evolving, however, the influence of North American English is especially notable. American English is increasingly present not only in Argentine classrooms but also amidst (and maybe too, as a result of) media consumption including music and movies from the U.S. After several months of exposure to English classroom materials, I can look at a textbook and say with relative certainty whether it had British or North American writers and editors based on grammar, vocabulary, etc. Both language varieties exist in students’ English studies here. However, I would beg to claim that American English has had a much wider impact (than British English) on the population at large due to this aforementioned presence in music, movies, and other mass media.

This semester I am assisting in two sections of a course that focuses on the rudimentary aspects of culture from English-speaking countries around the world (England, Ireland, Australia, New Zealand, Canada, Jamaica, the United States, etc.). My supervisor (who I assist in one section of this course) and I have already had great discussions about what we should consider an “official language” of a country, because, if you look closely at U.S. law you will see that there is no legal official language declared by the national government. On the other hand, if we take a more socio-linguistic perspective in defining “official language,” we might classify English as something more official, mainly because of its use: in everyday interactions for a majority of individuals in the country, in courts of law, in other legal agreements and documents, etc. To be expected from the language assistant, I look forward to the opportunities that I will have in these classes to share further about U.S. culture. At the same time, I am excited to be a “student” occasionally and learn more about the other English-speaking cultures explored throughout the semester.

In the last few months I have learned that: when the British say “jumper” they mean an American sweatshirt, when they say “pants” they mean American underwear, “toilet” is a totally common and appropriate synonym for bathroom or restroom, to be “redundant” in Britain means to be laid off in the U.S., that “public schools” are actually private in England, and that fish & chips, beer, and, above all, tea in the U.S. probably do not measure up to British standards. I have had to be careful with the advice that I give students about vocabulary and pronunciation because I know that some of their professors teach from a full-fledged British English perspective. Accordingly, I find myself more often than not ending corrections that I give to students with “…but it could be British so you should probably look it up.” Of course, this isn’t necessarily a bad thing; if the students take time to double check my advice and suggestions, I imagine they will more likely to internalize the concept or grammatical structure in question.

To bring this post to a conclusion, I’m going to touch on a similar language clash that I’ve faced while living here in Argentina. Spanish, too, has a great number of varieties meaning that while grammar and vocabulary are basically the same, there are markers of distinction between the Spanish spoken in Peru, Mexico, Argentina, other parts of Central and South America, and Spain (where the Spanish variety mandated by the Real Academica has a greater precedence). Much like what I believe about the diversity of English, this obviously doesn’t mean that one language variety is better than another; it simply shows that language is a living thing, constantly adapting to be comprehensive for the needs of the culture in which it is utilized. O bugger! How’s all that for thought over some tea and biscuits in your flat on a rainy afternoon? ;)

Montevideo Regional Enhancement Seminar Video

It's obviously been quite some time-two and a half months, actually-since I was in Montevideo, Uruguay for our Fulbright midterm seminar. However, I think it's still worth it to share the video that the Fulbright commission sent to us fairly recently. We had a cameraman following us around all week (I'm honestly surprised you don't find someone sleeping in this video as omnipresent as this gentleman was with his recording equipment), recording our sessions, field trips and lots of shared laughs. I hope you enjoy!

(If the video isn't large enough for you to see on this blog page, you can simply click on the video as it plays and you should be redirected to the YouTube page where it is originally posted)

(Modified) Argentina Tour, "Fulbright" style: Stop V, Corrientes, a Private Institution

Nearly my entire life, from my earliest school days in kindergarten to my college graduation a little over a year ago, I have lived amidst, learned within and benefited from the education system in the United States. I will be the first person to tell you that our education system, of course like any other, isn't flawless and has its fair share of shortfalls. (If you haven't seen the documentary Waiting for Superman, you should.) Internationally, each education system is unique and has strengths and benefits that it reaps for students, especially for those participants who decide to take full advantage of educational opportunities available. As I am a bit of a self-proclaimed nerd, you can imagine my excitement as I arrived in Argentina and pondered the possibilities of learning about Argentina's pubic education system notable for being free and obligatory in elementary and high school and free at the collegiate level.

Since I have arrived, I have obviously been teaching at the collegiate level at San Fernando Rey in Resistencia. I also spend each Friday at a local junior high school, Escuela Normal Sarmeinto, helping by occasionally leading class activities and providing additional explanations to students in their language exercises. In today's entry though (and in a sort of modified tour of Argentina's universities that I had been writing about via my visits to other Fulbrighters' institutions), I want to focus on the private sector of Argentina's education system. This entry is written in light of a recent visit I made (at the request of a San Fernando Rey professor who also teaches at this second institution) to the private Universidad de la Cuenca de la Plata (UCP) in Corrientes; sharing about university life and culture in the U.S. as well as my process of learning Spanish in the U.S. were the highlights of the evening's presentation. My audience consisted of a class of students in the Information Technology program who have to take a couple of courses that equip them with English skills necessary to read and understand academic papers and official and/or international manuals and commentaries in the field of Information Technology. *Side note: This curricular requirement of discipline-specific English courses is very common at the university level here as all the important academic writing (for almost all disciplines) is published internationally in English.

This was actually the second time that I had visited La Cuenca for such a presentation and both times I was shocked in a way at the marked differences between this private institution and the other public facilities I have had the chance to visit. Multiple functioning computer labs, what seemed to be a more equipped and updated library, better lighting throughout the facility (which leads to...), a more aesthetically pleasing impression, and a more comprehensive website of greater functionality (when compared to that of San Fernando Rey) are all characteristics that might lead to an initial assumption that education to be found at this private institution is more valuable than that of its public counterparts. And, if we're talking strictly in terms of money to be spent on the education, then yes, you will spend more money at the private institution as education at any public institution is free in Argentina (teacher training institutes, med school, law school, engineering, architecture, business, etc.). In assuming so, however (about educational value), you would be mistaken regarding the principles of educational value. When an individual arrives at a job interview with his/her documentation of a private university education, this person's professional credentials and actual knowledge derived from the education are questioned/doubted. This occurs because the societal assumption (and reality in many private institution programs) is that you have paid someone off to receive your diploma. In the public system, this scenario becomes highly unlikely as there is no exchange of money between students and the educational institution. The professor whose class I visited shared with me that her Information Technology students study in a subject where this direct process of payment in exchange for a diploma is not commonplace but that it is well-known for such payoffs to occur in other courses of study. (I'm still asking myself if I believe her 100 percent...)

As a result of this experience at UCP I ask myself what is the bigger pity here: that the students with the financial resources at the private institutions don't see the necessity or benefit of utilizing the literary and technological resources they have so readily at their fingertips?, or, that there are so many students and professors at the public institutions where I have visited who are yearning and able to have the same access to said resources but don't have the financial means to do so? Dilemma to be debated...anyone?

Finally, as you digest what I've laid on the table in this post, let me reflect for a moment on a question that was raised by one of the UCP students during my presentation. He asked whether public or private institutions in the United States are held in higher regard. After several attempts to explain that this largely depends on the state where the college/university is located, the history of the school, the academic program and the school's resources for that program, professors in the course of study and their research and experience, etc. I was still faced with a certain blank, puzzled stare from many of the students. It was only as I thought back on this question a few days later that I realized my response was probably very difficult for these students to fathom; with such a marked difference in the reputations of public and private institutions in Argentina, my response of "well, it depends on x, y, and z..." was likely much too grey for their black and white educational reality. And so I am left to ponder the complexities of yet another facet of this diverse, essential, powerful practice we call education.

(Adopted) Families/Familias whom I Love

I generally avoid making direct comparisons between my life in the United States and my life here in Argentina. However, today’s entry will be an intentional exception as I want to reflect briefly on a few aspects of family life and values that I have observed in both places. While family structure, individuals’ responsibilities and geographical proximity of family members (generally) differ between the U.S. and Argentina’s culture, I’ve found that family, as an important social structure, shares some characteristics in both cultures (that might seem like a ‘duh’ point but stick with me here…). This blog post highlights a couple of families who have both welcomed me into their homes and graciously approved of what I have to share below about them, relative to the culture in which they live (I obviously wouldn’t be publishing the entry if I hadn’t received their permission.)  I consider myself blessed to know each of their families and hope that this blog post arrives at something deeper than what might initially seem to be a shallow, side-by-side cultural comparison. …

A few weeks ago I was visiting the home of former Fulbrighter to the U.S. Viviana Cimbaro Canella and talking with her two-year-old daughter Teodelina (or for short, Teo) at the kitchen table. When Teo was just a year old, Vivi tried to talk to her in English, especially using phrases in response to Teo’s constantly repeated questions and demands (i.e. Open it for me, Mommy! [but obviously in Spanish]). However, as any mother can attest to (or, as I imagine about first-time mothers anyways), caring for your first child can be an especially tiring process of adaptation to a major household change. Likewise, Vivi found herself waning in these bilingual efforts as Teo seemed to show little inclination to adopting the English phrases in her own speech. Recently, however, Teo said something out of the blue in English, without any external prompts; Vivi realized then that Teo had actually internalized some of the English. Thus, she has revived her teaching efforts in a way, working on colors and numbers, many of which Teo could tell me in English and/or Spanish as we pulled out one of the family’s board games for her to play with. Let’s just say that Teo never ceases to steal the show when I make a visit to their house. 

Viviana with Teo, smiling at Teo's baby cousin, during one of my recent visits to their house

 It was in this moment of discussion about language at Viviana’s dinner table that I realized how much her family resembles that of the Koske family who I know from my time spent in Granville, Ohio. Kevin and Tami Koske also have two children, Gabriel (3 years old) and Gwen (almost 8 months) (ok, so Viviana’s family doesn’t quite have two children yet. But soon this will be a valid comparison as Vivi is expecting a baby boy, Maximo, in October). Both Tami and Viviana work as teachers in local schools. Both families value their extended families in visible ways and both face (and will continue to face) many of the challenges associated with maintaining a balanced perspective in light of their families’ physical, social, educational and spiritual needs (relative to their generation and their respective cultures). 

David on the swing with Teo at a gathering on Argentina's national holiday, 25 de mayo

The Koske family: Tami, Kevin, Gabriel and Gwen

 Probably most important to me, though, in similarities between the Koskes and Cimbaro Canellas is how they have both generously welcomed me with open arms my semi-adopted presence amidst their families. I always look forward to spending time in their homes. And despite the fact that their lives are full of other important things and people too, I have never felt unwelcome or like I was intruding upon their lives. Both families love to laugh and converse at gatherings that bring us together to share great food. Some of the best asados I’ve had since arriving here have been at Viviana’s house (major kudos to her husband, David); at the Koske’s, whether it has been a simply unbelievable corn chowder made by Tami, “homemade” sushi on New Year’s Eve, or last-minute-decision Chinese take-out, the countless meals I have shared in this home are full of warm memories. I value indefinitely some of the profound, heart-to-heart conversations that I’ve had with Tami over a hot cup of coffee and with Viviana over a sweet mate. It was in Tami’s kitchen that I was given Cooking 101 on how to make some of the best homemade tamales, straight from the kitchen of the woman who was raised in Southern California. Similarly, in Viviana’s kitchen I’ve learned how to make scones (well, Argentine style scones anyways that I have transformed into my own mini-alfajors, shaved coconut and all) and, most recently, chipacitos. 

The children of these two homes always make my week. I expected to be regularly beat up by Gabriel in Granville and I consider it a minor disappointment if Teodelina doesn’t show off some of her diva sassiness when I make a visit to Puerto Tirol. Teodelina insists on calling Winnie the Pooh’s little pink friend “Tiglet” and Gabe has the best impression, hands down, of the Beast from Disney’s Beauty and the Beast. I couldn’t have been happier for Kevin and Tami when Gwen was born this past January and I can’t wait to be here too, to celebrate with Viviana and David when Maximo is born in October.

I could write pages upon pages of the ways that I think family structures vary between the cultures of Argentina and the United States, and the ways in which they resemble one another. However, as family is a relational unit, a social structure, a network of individuals in which I (and many other individuals of both cultures) have experienced extensive social, intellectual and spiritual development, I tried to take on a more personal stance for these familial “comparisons.” For me, relationships trump all and while my friendships with the Koskes and Cimbaro Canellas started out in strikingly simple ways, they have both developed into relationships of a profound nature, despite any cultural differences that may exist. I have been welcomed into their homes and families and, in turn, hope that I can rise to the challenge to be a more generous individual, as I attempt to mirror just a fraction of the generosity that their families have bestowed to me.