March 26, 2012

I was up early unable to sleep. As soon as the sun came up, I could see the mountains thrusting into the air and knew a perfect day should be ahead. The teacher resource center was practically empty and less than half of the teachers were present when I got there. We waited for little while longer, but it seemed as if many of them had decided to take another day off. I started by having them talk to their partner about what they had done for Navruz and then report to the group. Apparently, quite a few of them stayed home cooking and then sharing the food with neighbors and relatives. It appears as if yesterday there was a huge gathering at the hippodrome where many students sang and dance in spite of the rain. This must have been the event for which Oigul had been rehearsing, but I never knew exactly when it was supposed to take place. We did a vocabulary activity where the teachers needed to classify everyday objects, based on their origin, into the animal, vegetable or mineral category. Dictionaries came out flying and even then, many of the words eluded them.

                                    One of the teachers brought her two girls to class today.

Made my obligatory stop at F1 and then got in taxi to go to the PedInst. The driver turned right and I almost panicked thinking he was going into who knew what direction, but he signaled that Rudaki Avenue was closed once again to allow dignitaries who had visited for the celebration to have a clear road to the airport. Ran into a student as I approached the PedInst and she asked what I had done for Navruz. I was blunt and told her I had stayed home since no one had extended any invitations. Her response: Oh, sorry, but can you get me a letter of reference I can present to this university? I told her I didn’t know her track record and couldn’t in good faith issue one. She then explained her professor was willing to sign one if she could get someone to write it for him. I refused to participate in that charade and told her to look for samples online if she wished to.

I found very few students outside and none in my classroom. One student came in to tell me that the students had performed the day before at the hippodrome and had been given the day off to recuperate. It’d have been nice if someone had called me to tell me not to come in. I stopped by the dean’s office to let him know I’d be going across the street for my soup and would return for our teacher training session. He made the requisite question about Navruz and I gave him the same answer I gave the student and he got so flustered he didn’t know what to do with himself. He claimed not to have known that the students got the day off. Whatever.

My soup place was closed for service while the employees seemed to be repainting and doing some deep cleaning. I walked to the other cafeteria and found several of the male teachers eating there and since most tables were full, I asked to sit next to one of them who hardly speaks any English at all. He couldn’t even describe what he was having and took leave as soon as he finished his meal. Pariso, Matluva and Dilho came in and sat at my table and spoke mostly in Russian among themselves. Pariso rehashed her statement that although she needed the certificate of attendance for my sessions, it was imperative that she worked so she could buy herself some clothes. I said nothing. None of them inquired as to what I might have done for Navruz.

When I was preparing for the teachers’ session, a young student came in to ask me if I was willing to give him private lessons, for which of course, he was willing to pay. I told him I was practically teaching six days a week and needed my evenings and Sundays to recuperate from the exhaustion. He’s a third year student and thus unable to understand spoken English. He reiterated his desire to have classes with me on Sundays, of all days. I put my tape recorder in motion and only answered “American Corner” to every beseeching comment he made. The student with the need for not one now, but two letters of reference came in once again to tell me she was trying to print some sample letters from the Internet and wanted to know if I could make changes to them because she was supposed to fax then to the university in question before 4:00pm. She couldn’t understand that I knew nothing about her trajectory as a student and was in no position to make comments to that effect. She promised to return with the actual letters before my session was over.

The teachers, only twelve had shown up, seemed to enjoy talking about food and I found out the most expensive dish anyone had ever ordered was plov for 35 somoni or $7.30. No one had any desire to travel to some distant land to have something that might not be available here. They couldn’t entertain the idea that some foreigners might not be completely enamored with their cuisine and couldn’t name a dish that these people might dislike. Talk about provincialism.

Fortunately for me, the student with the letters didn’t show up before I left, but one of the male teachers has promised to cook “fried meat” for me as I had mentioned I had no idea what it might look or taste like. I hope I’m not in for some disgusting dish.