November 3, 2011

No Internet access this morning and I cannot even get my Chinese phone to send text messages. Not the best way to start out the day. Abundant sunshine this morning and relatively warmer temperatures greeted me outside. Made my way to the embassy to cash a check, use their Internet and hopefully see Tahmina about my frustrations at the institute. The mini-van driver was stopped by the police and a heated argument ensued, nature unknown, but apparently the driver held his ground and the officer let him go. The van would not restart after that and two male passengers had to get out to push it. Vali, the cashier at the embassy, greeted me warmly and was delighted with the CD I gave him containing merengues, bachatas, salsa and reggaeton. He gave me his cell phone number and asked to call him if I needed anything.  

Tahmina indicated she had just called me, not in response to my previous calls, but to inform me that another appointment had been made with dean to finalized the Memorandum of Understanding and that Sandy would be present at this meeting. When I related the incident at my apartment and my many attempts to reach her, she just replied that her husband has prohibited from picking up the phone after certain hours. She called Dilia and seemed appalled when told that I had been so angry that I had yelled at Dilia on the phone. I asked her what she would have done in my place since no one seemed to care that I was sitting in a cold and dark apartment while everybody else in the building had power. She refused to acknowledge this point. I proceeded to outline my many concerns regarding teaching at the Pedagogical Institute and she just nodded her head and said conditions were what they were because of the lack of funding and the low salaries teachers receive. Her suggestion: request that the dean assign me to teach at the Resource Center as it has a whiteboard and good heating during the winter. I reminded her that the room was three buildings away from the English Faculty classrooms and students only have five minutes between classes. She didn’t seem concerned.

Sandy came by at this point and asked if everything was all right. I was about to explode at that moment and said no. She asked me to follow her into her office where I broke down crying from pure exhaustion and impotence. When I related my feelings of not being taken seriously at the Institute and the lack of cooperation by the dean, she indicated she would be requesting a formal introduction to all faculty members and a tour of the facilities so I would know where to find what I needed.

Pariso had not called me to let me know if a key had been made to the classroom with the whiteboard, so I just knocked on her classroom door and notified her I’d be at the Resource Room if she wanted to send the students there. Someone must have held a recent workshop in the room and the whiteboard, previously sitting on the floor, had been propped on top of two chairs. I realized then that there was no way for me to accommodate 27 students in the room as it’s lined up with old listening stations along two walls and bookcases on the third wall. The control booth for the listening stations occupies the fourth wall along with a desk and computer. My mind tried to imagine how the furniture could be rearranged so as to make the room workable, but that would not happen without some infusion of cash for new desks and chairs, as the ones there are broken. The whiteboard had layers upon layers of old markings as no one had taken the trouble of buying some cleaning agent for it.

The students from the first class got in late, but found their way and could not have been happier with their surroundings. They wanted to be told that this would be a permanent arrangement while the second class begged me to reconsider going back to their regular classroom so as not to make the trek there on a regular basis.

Ryan texted to invite me to dinner at his place and I was more than glad to accept as it was on my way home and I had no idea as to what I was going to eat that evening. He was making a rice and chicken soup when one of his outlets in the kitchen caught on fire and started burning the collection of photographs he had pasted onto that wall. I advised him to throw a wet rag at the wall to put out the fire and it worked. Ryan remained unfazed and when the outlet cooled off simply removed it from the wall and threw in the garbage. He made no mention of calling his landlord to report it. His neighbor on the second floor, zha, came in and I learned she is an alumna of the PedInst having graduated in 2002. She hardly speaks English and teaches at a secondary school nearby. She related how difficult it is for her to try to explain grammar points to her 11^th graders and how much she wants to get out of the profession. She agreed to have me visit her classroom next Wednesday and requested my help with updating her resume to see if she can get a job with an NGO in the area. She works from 8:00 to 5:00 and comes home to a husband and two rambunctious boys. I cannot imagine such a life. For the first time, even Ryan’s cooking was bland. I went home relatively hungry.