Stick in the Eye

When I was a student, I was a good one. I handed in my work ahead of time, always did the extra-credit projects, and generally expected others to do their best. As you can imagine, I was sorely disappointed on a regular basis.

The summer between my junior and senior years of high school, I attended the Summer Institute for a few weeks at a college campus hours from my hometown. I was one of those students who opted to spend my summer break learning more and spending time with like-minded, self-proclaimed geniuses.

The focus of my intensive classes was creative writing. For this small town, conservative girl, it meant spending time with kids who flippantly used colorful language (in the name of creativity) and had more "worldly" knowledge than I cared to explore. But their writing was amazing. Maybe even because of these things their writing was amazing.

My roommate was another conservative, small town girl from a different area of the state. Her focus was biology. She is a nurse now so I guess we're both using our experiences properly. She was upbeat, beautiful, and painfully optimistic, even for me. She used this phrase that is maybe more common than I give it credit:

It's better than a sharp stick in the eye.

Those words rang in my ears today as I did school with Number 2 looking out a window of yet more falling snow.

Well, it's better than a sharp stick in the eye.

Number 2 is a bare minimum type of kid who just wants to pass. He's always asking to opt out of certain lessons or somehow simplify the process. I admit I have given in on more than one occasion and it may be biting me in the rear. The lessons today were physically painful.

A couple years ago my hubby and I were desperate to expand our income. I mean, really low. He had been laid off for several months and the credit cards were maxed out. Just then a plasma donation center opened up a reasonable drive from our house. So we both donated plasma to make $50-$100 a week.

Did I mention that I'm anemic, have a really super-fast heartbeat, bruise easily, and generally don't like giving away parts or my anatomy? Well I'm mentioning it now. All this to explain that today, I would have run into a chair to let a nurse stick me with a needle just to escape the responsibility of educating my offspring. If teachers around the globe ever feel this way, we should require goggles just in case anybody wants to test the sharp stick in the eye theory. I have my doubts.

Maybe I'm upset that a security guard doing rounds yesterday wrote me up for leaving my trash on the front porch for ten minutes. Maybe I am in some serious need of a Spring Break. Maybe I can expel some of my frustration by making lovely greeting cards and drinking Mai-tais by the fireside tonight. Yeah. That should do it.

There's one other phrase I never could figure out. "It ain't no thang but a chicken wang" Maybe I'll use that one tomorrow during school. Or maybe there'll be a snow day and we'll cancel altogether. Maybe that's where it's better than a sharp stick in the eye.

Snow in March

I began my week with a play-date across town so we cancelled school Monday morning and drove to the metro. As I was patiently waiting for a parking spot to open up, a man (not Russian) pulled his Lada in front of my fender, rolled down the window, spit toward my fender, and scowled as he drove away. "Huh?" I thought. That's never happened before. Either he felt the need to spit right then or he knows what the special numbers and color of our license plate denotes. I proceeded to unload the kids and headed on our way anyway.

It was a fun day, but I was a little nervy because my husband was in Washington DC taking an exam for a possible new job. My friends were supportive and hopeful as we sipped coffee that tasted amazing! I said to her, "What kind of coffee is this?" She replied rather sheepishly, "Maxwell House?" We both had a good laugh about what we considered luxury. We also realized that the cubed, raw sugar she bought tastes pretty, darn good.

A few hours later when we arrived back at our side of town, I decided to get an impromptu haircut. After all, it had been five months and I was well past due. I opted for a straight around bob that I haven't sported since 2003. I walked out of there feeling taller, prettier, and flaunting my bare head because it was a balmy 33 degrees! Once we got to the car, I realized the lights had been left on and we had no battery. There was a time when I would have cried, fallen down, or screamed mutiny. But I didn't. I apologized to my kids and we caught a bus.

Once home, a neighbor, who is Guatamalan and all of 4.5 feet tall, drove me back to my van with a mobile charger. The battery wasn't exactly easy to get to and considering my vehicle is notoriously filthy and the snow was knee deep, I think we did pretty well by getting it started. We had Russian male spectators the whole time. I'm sure they had a good laugh. Or maybe not.

So my husband didn't get the job.

When he came home from DC, I couldn't believe the gifts he brought back and how much he thought of me while he was gone. From a Starbucks Washington DC mug to Yankee Candles, I was feeling pretty special. But the best gift of all came the next morning.

I have been feeling really tired lately because I am anemic and I ran out of iron two weeks ago. I know they have iron at the local pharmacy, but every time I go in, I forget the word and can't communicate what I need. So I have gone without. As I unpacked his bags to get out the laundry, I found one container of iron from an American pharmacy. After 11 married years with this man, how is it that iron could speak so much love?

On Friday morning, I headed to Bible Study. It's half a mile away so when it's cold I drive, but yesterday the snow was so pretty and the birds were chirping. I felt like I was in Narnia. It's hard for me to believe that I am so optimistic about the snow that I used to despise. Here it is, end of March and we're still getting regular snowfall. But I've been here for a spring/summer and know that once the warm weather arrives, we will have sun for 20 hours a day and beauty that seems to last forever.

Last week when my girlfriend was over, her four year-old son kept interrupting us to whine about wanting my son's lightsaber toy. She knew that he was getting one at his birthday party the next day but he whined and whined anyway. She shook her head and said, "If you only knew...." This is how I've felt about my life lately. God has something. I keep grasping at it and trying to make it mine, but He knows the proper time for it. Hey, if this girl can learn to find the beauty in snow, then certainly I can wait a little longer for God's timing. I hope.

First and Last

I've been feeling melancholy lately. I could attribute it to the still wintery, cold snow or maybe the prospect of visiting home makes the days seem longer. It could be caused by a wonderful friend telling me about her pregnancy and my husband confessing that he was slightly envious. With his hand cupping my face, I felt sad, happy, and complete all at the same time. For the first time since I've lived in Russia, I was homesick this week. I wanted home. Not the stuff, stores, or food. I wanted friends and family who make up home. I repeated several times over to myself words of wisdom from my mother; this too shall pass.

It did.

Imagine every time you celebrated a birthday, milestone, or holiday that it was jam-packed with the expectation of being your first. Then, reverse it and apply that same wistful, bittersweet emotion to the fact that it may be your last. We have a two-year contract. Shortly after we arrived, it was our first Thanksgiving among new friends only (no family). We realized this past November may have been our last Thanksgiving. I've started making lists of souvenirs I just have to have and need to send out to friends I've promised.

I've said it before and I'll say it again. My life motto is "write your life in pencil and carry a big eraser." It could be that all of my intricate emotions are ill-spent because we could be here another two years, or in some ways, we could be gone in a blink.

Have I learned anything? Yes, though that seems too small a word for an affirmative answer. Just today I made a meal for a new family who arrived thinking to myself, "what if I'm not even here long enough to become a good friend? Will it be worth it?" Of course. Doing the right thing is always in season. Jesus said that loving others is the greatest commandment. That's why it brings so much joy!

I'm not a touchy-feely. I never have been. Tears and hugging actually tend to drive me nuts and yet they have brought me such security this week. Somethings coming. I can feel it. I started Spring cleaning and taking inventory of what I would want to pack. This could be premature. It could be ridiculous really. Maybe we'll know or maybe we won't.

Either way, I'll keep you posted.

I Piano Teacher

For the last year I have spent some afternoons giving piano lessons to some local international kids (I know it’s an oxymoron, but it works). Two of my students were driving from another housing development located 16K (10 miles) away. That doesn’t seem like much, but in afternoon traffic it can take up to 1 hour there and even more on the way back. I noticed my students were lethargic and unmotivated after all that driving. So I suggested to a friend who lives there, if I could get a couple more students, it would be worth it for me to drive to the housing and give multiple lessons. I charged a little bit more for my time and within 24 hours I had 4 new students in addition to the 2 I already had from that area.

So once a week, I drive the long route to give piano. I love teaching. I enjoy watching kids’ eyes light up when they realize a new concept. I’ll admit, I also like the instant gratification of payment. My husband is proud as well and unsparing with his adoration for my multiple talents.

But this week, we got a flat tire.

I couldn’t cancel, it just isn’t in me to do it. I wanted to go. I wanted to see my students and keep them moving forward. So I made plans B, C, and if absolutely necessary, plan D.

It turns out I ended up using a combination of these options.

After three hours of schooling my own kids, I caught the bus from our complex to the local town. I rode a couple of miles until the first drop-off where I waited for a city bus that would take me most of the way there. I clumsily paid my 28 rubles while an elderly man kindly showed me how to insert the ticket so I could go through the barrier on the bus. You certainly can’t sneak onto these things without being pretty obvious. I was appreciative and he smiled.

On these roads, there are lanes specifically for buses. They move pretty well while car traffic sits. In a mind-boggling 15 minutes, I arrived at my next connection. From here, I had planned to walk a ways to get to my destination. Trying not to appear frazzled or out of place, I glanced now and then at my hand drawn map. I crossed countless streets and walked over train tracks realizing I wasn’t getting anywhere. My map literally flew away in the wind after a wrong turn. After walking an hour and fighting back the tears, I grabbed a cab and haggled for a decent price.

I told him where I needed to go and he smiled and said, “You America? America eez good!” I politely said, “Da.” Once we were on our way, I noticed that his gas tank was in the warning symbol for empty. Excellent. A friend told me later that sometimes Russian cabbies have mechanics wire their tanks with a spare propane tank in the trunk so when the gas runs out, they flip a switch and run on propane. That may have been true for this guy driving an older-than-dirt beater. As we sat in traffic under a tunnel, in a blend of Russian and English, he asked every form of question from my opinions on American Presidents to whether I like Russia. I have learned that simple speech is easier to understand for a foreigner. It’s certainly true when people talk to me.

“I Piano Teacher.”
“Aaaah!” he says. “You in Moscow alone?”
“Nyet.”
“You in Moscow with adeen (one)?”
“Nyet.”
“Two mebee?”
“Nyet. Shest (six).”
“Aaaah!” he says. “You mama?”
“Da.”

At this point, I quickly grabbed my phone and texted my husband. I had a feeling maybe we would be stuck in this tunnel and the man would question me to death. But he smiled so much and that is a rarity in Moscow. I actually liked him quite a lot.
When we arrived, I paid him the ridiculous price and waved goodbye. I was an hour early so I turned on my ipod and sat on a snowy park bench until my lesson started.

After all the lessons were over, a friend walked me through the route I originally wanted to take and made it back to my destination to grab a bus home. It’s the simple things like riding the bus that make me feel accomplished. I arrived home to a tidy home, happy kids, and dinner on the table. For what more could a girl ask?