Coming Home

Hey, guys.

I'm home.

Man....that sounds so weird.

And you know what's weirder? I have been home for over a month. But it doesn't feel like it.

If there's one thing I've learned over the past few months, though, it's that home can mean a lot of things. There's the physical definition of 'home' - the house you grew up in, the state you lived in, the country you were born in.

Then there's the....less physical definition.

When I first came to Russia, I was scared. Not just scared - I was terrified. As anyone who has read my letters will know, I had a rather colossal anxiety attack upon arriving at the Moscow airport, which lasted for about a week. I wouldn't eat, I wouldn't unpack, I wouldn't even shower - I wouldn't do anything that would mean I was accepting the fact that I was going to be staying there for a while.

Anyone who has lived in a foreign country - or heck, moved to a new home - will know what I'm talking about. It's that rejection of change - that scared reaction that comes with not knowing what comes next, and not wanting to find out. As a shy kid who has lived in one place her entire life (a great blessing in its own way, just as moving from place to place is), suddenly going from my hometown to Moscow, Russia, and then on to college, felt like the end of the world.

My parents kept telling me that it wasn't permanent, that I'd be coming home for Christmas, and then after that I'd be home all summer, but that wasn't enough. I knew very well that going to Russia meant that I would be passing one of the biggest milestones in my life - leaving home. And not just for four months - for forever. Because, while it's still my home, and I will always think of it that way, I won't be living there 24/7 anymore. Sooner or later, Christmas and Thanksgiving and summer vacation will end, and I'll be going back to what is now my 'normal' life - college. And somewhere along that road, I'll meet someone (and I know this is going to happen, whether I want it to or not) with whom I KNOW I will want to spend eternity with. Eventually, I'll have a family of my own, and building a home of my own. And from there.....well, I sure as heck don't know.

But even so....that's a lot to take in.

For a 19-year-old girl, it's almost impossible to even take all of it into serious consideration. I mean, come on! I'm not old enough to get married. Yeah, sure, I'm Mormon. Yeah, sure, I want to get married in the temple. But that's all SOMEDAY. Some 19-year-old girls are ready to get married - heck, I know some of them. But one truth of the human race is that we're all different. And for me, personally, I don't envision passing that particular milestone anytime soon.

One great thing I was taught growing up, though, is that in order for me to develop naturally and comfortably, I have to learn things at my own pace. Some things come slower to me than to others - some things come more quickly. It took me a little longer to learn how to speak correctly - but I was way ahead of everyone else when I learned how to read. Everything balances out in the end. Everything turns out for the best, one way or another.

In Russia, I eventually came to realize something - that 'home', for what it's worth, is not just the place I grew up. It's not just where my family's living, or where I was born. Home is - to put it bluntly - me. My personality, my mind, my heart, my thoughts - all of that is home. So (as corny as it sounds) wherever I go, I'm not a stranger, because I carry my home with me always. It took me a while to figure out, but it was worth the fear I had to feel in order to reach it.

And it's certainly a good thing I did, because a lot changed while I was away. The biggest blow was my grandpa getting sick. I think this, more than anything, cemented the fact that the childhood home I had always known wouldn't be the same when I got back.

And that's how it is. After four months, things AREN'T the same. But you know what - out of all the living things on the earth, human beings are by far the most adaptable. It might take us a while, but no matter what horrible things happen, we are capable of storming on through it. I mean, just think of all the different places we live - everywhere from dry, blazing hot deserts to dark, icy tundras. We may not like the idea of change, but we eventually come to accept it. And that's a comforting fact to know, even when you sure aren't feeling it.

It's funny - when I first came to Moscow, there was nothing I wanted more than to go home. Now, though, there are times when I'm sitting down, feeling lonely and out of place, where I miss it. I miss the beautiful forests, and the irrepressible babushkas, and the icy roads, and the quiet little towns, and the big, beautiful, almost impossibly colorful cathedrals.....but most of all, the gruff, incredibly blunt, world-weary, kind-hearted people who lived there. Right this minute, I'm missing it so much it almost hurts.

But, you know what...I didn't leave that behind. I took it home with me. And it's never going to go away. Just as my hometown is, and my college years are going to be.

Because, baby, that's how the human race rolls.

The Story of Kindergarten

This is a short one.

But it involves talking about the kindergarteners that I teach, so that instantly makes it feel a lot longer than it should be.

I remember one of the things I was most afraid of when I came to Russia was that the kids wouldn't like me. This haunted both my nightmares and my day-to-day routine, following me everywhere. I was going to be the worst, most hated, most awful teacher EVER. I just knew it.

So, thinking thus, it would only make sense that my fears would turn out to be unfounded, and I would be the best teacher EVER, and everything would be perfect.

Sadly, real life isn't like that, and my first day of teaching, I found myself facing a classroom of 20 kids (our teaching limit is 8, by the way) who had never had ILP before and didn't speak a lick of English, with no teachers (American or Russian) to help me.

Suffice it to say....not such a warm welcome to teaching.

I was just thinking about this today, setting up chairs for opening for my kindergarten class. The kids we teach in our class are pretty young - no older than 5. And oh boy, do they show it.

At first, I wondered if there was something wrong with the way I was teaching. Was I doing something wrong? Was I not interesting enough? Maybe I should use more objects...make bigger, more exciting lessons.....make them WANT to sit down and listen to the lesson.

Now, I know it isn't that simple. I realized, partway through, that I wasn't doing anything wrong - I was doing the best I could. And that's all I could keep doing. As long as I did that - wasn't lazy, planned my lessons, and did my best at teaching, no matter how bad the kids were being - then I would have no reason to beat myself up about it.

And honestly, taking that approach has made me a better teacher. Sure, I won't be winning any awards anytime soon, but I know how to deal with my kids.

More importantly, I know my kids. As bad as they are, I know how special each and every one is - their personalities, behaviors, likes and dislikes. As incredibly frustrating as it can be to teach these kids, I still love them.

And then there are little, rare moments that I just cherish.

Like that day, only last week, where Mischa, one of our most badly behaved kids, was the only kid left at the end of the day, as everyone else had been picked up early. We wound up pretending to be airplanes, flying around the room, arms outstretched, making wooshing noises. He has the most adorable crinkly-eyed smile, and the tiniest, highest-pitched little boy's voice. He rolls his r's all over the place when he talks - listening to him is sort of mesmerizing.

A few days ago, I brought a plastic yellow barrel for a class. I had put a pom-pom inside it, primarily for transportation purposes. When I took it out, I handed it around for the kids to look at. When Mischa got it, he immediately noticed the pom-pom. He showed me the pom-pom inside the barrel, closed it, and then hid it under the table. At first, I was the verge of stopping him - he has a habit of taking things or knocking things over just to be annoying - when he whipped it out again, dramatically displayed the now-empty barrel, and loudly proclaimed, "ABERRRRA-CADABERRRRRAH!"

I nearly lost it. It was a good thing that we rotated right after that, because I don't think I could have kept the laughter in for much longer.

As bad as Mischa is, I am going to miss that kid.

I'm going to miss Kirill, who can't ever stop talking, and always wants to tell me everything (even though I have no idea what he's saying), and has that huge, bright, ear-to-ear smile. He always speaks so earnestly, and always waves to us when we leave, or shouts "HELLO! HELLO!" when he sees us coming. I'm even going to miss how he always tries to explain his way out of trouble, when it's obvious that he's the one that hit that kid or stole that marker. It's also made me glad that I don't speak Russian.

I'm going to miss Sonya, who always comes to class with a new stuffed animal (which she proudly shows off to us at opening) and is the most princess-like little girl I have ever met. And she knows it. Long, gorgeous hair, bright green eyes, and that exasperating penchant for refusing to do something while giving me that sweet, oh-so-pretty smile.

I'm going to miss Vova, and the strange little world he always seems to be living in. Sometimes paying attention, but mostly staring off into space, making loud explosion noises, or wandering around the room, off in his own amazing, explosion-filled story. When he speaks in Russian, he puts such quirky expression into his speech that I genuinely wonder what on earth he's saying - mostly because I have a feeling that it's something incredibly interesting....or hilarious.

I'm also going to miss Dasha, for being the sweet little angel that she is. She always speaks in class, always tries to help keep the other kids in line, always does the right thing. Her large brown eyes shine and sparkle all the time, and she is one of the most kind-hearted little girls I've ever met.

I'm going to miss Velizar, for his garbled way of speaking, and his cute little boy mullet, and his absolute OBSESSION with dinosaurs. Seriously, other little boys only wish they could be this devoted. He always brings a new dinosaur toy to class, always wears dinosaur clothes, and always notices whenever we have dinosaurs in our lesson - even when it's just a tiny little picture in a newspaper someone is reading in a scene in a picture book.

I'm going to miss Polina, for her bright, chubby little face, and the way she sulks so melodramatically. I love making her laugh, and seeing her bright smile.

I'm going to miss Gardei, and his fast-paced way of talking (both in Russian and in English), and the way he says, "Please sit down!" and "Fold your arms!" whenever he wants me to calm down or leave him alone. I'm even going to miss the way he just randomly tries to grab things from my lesson - no matter how many times we explain the rules to him, both in English and in Russian (with help from the teachers), he just keeps doing it. It's like it's an impulse - he just can't help it. The little kleptomaniac.

Heck, I'm even going to miss Nikita - big, burly, blonde-haired, brown-eyed little boy with the need to hit and kick just about everything, and make mocking garble-garble noises when we're trying to get him to repeat. Yes, even you. Because you know what? I know you're a fun kid. I've played ball with you - you like copying me when I make fancy tosses. I remember our first day, how Nikita was the last kid to be picked up, and he was so shy and quiet, and I had no idea what to do with him. So I just took out a ball and tossed it. A few minutes later, he was happy and smiling, having so much fun just throwing a ball back and forth. I had a ton of fun myself.

So, I'll remember the bad stuff, certainly - but at least by the time I get back home, it will be funny, and I'll have all sorts of stories to tell my family. But I'll also have good things to remember, and talk about.

I'm glad I didn't flake out and go home early. Because this, as frustrating as it has been, was worth it.

Traveling

It's been an interesting few months.

For those unaware, I have been living in Moscow, Russia for the past 3 months, as a volunteer for the International Language Program.

Now, I know that I'm terrible at blogging, but even I must acknowledge that having this blog and not updating it while I was in Russia is kind of ridiculous. I can't say that I didn't have time, because I did, and I can't say that the thought never occurred to me, because it did, and I ignored it.

So now, with only one month left in Russia, I have come to a decision: twice a week, I will write a post, complete with stories, pictures, and otherwise. Most likely, this will be on Tuesday and Thursday nights - maybe Saturday if I forget one day. I am committing myself to this, because I feel that it's the best way to tell the world what I've been up to (not that the world especially wants to know....but whatever).

So here it is: my commitment. I will begin on Thursday.

So.....come again then. Hopefully, I will have remembered.

And so, with that said -

Da svedanya, and onwards.