School is in session

The students are like chittering little birds when I walk past them in the dimly lit hallways.

“Hi!”

“Hi!”

“Hi!”

For most of these students, “Hi,” is the only English word they know. It’s like there’s an ethereal golden light surrounding me as I walk the school hallways. Girls and boys from 5th grade to 12th grade gawk and then proudly say, “Hi!” or say the greeting to show bravery amongst their school friends, like “Yes, I spoke to the American.”

I am serving with Peace Corps Mongolia as a Secondary English Teacher.

For the next two-years, I will help my eight Mongolian counterparts (CPs) to improve their lesson planning, to improve their English speaking in the class room, and to co-teach alongside them. In addition, I will help lead my school’s speaking club. I look forward to the challenge.

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There are four secondary schools in my aimeg. I am teaching at school #4, the newest school.

School began on 1 September. My yellow school was decorated with balloons and banners in honor of the new school year. Chairs were placed outside and students and faculty members sat outside in the sun to listen to speeches made by the  governor, the Director of my school, and student speeches; dances were performed; songs were sung; and achievements accomplished last year were proudly heralded. I wore my summer deel to the occasion.

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English teachers in a classroom that was funded by Singapore’s World Vision.

I’m teaching a variety of grade levels. We sing songs in 5th grade classes. We are learning the ABCs in 6th grade classes. 7th graders excitedly wave their hands in the air so they can write answers on the board. 11th graders are improving their writing and listening skills and we are preparing the 12th graders for the end-of-the-year Concourse Exam. Students can be quiet and stoic. It’s hard to know if they like having me as a new addition to their classroom but my CPs tell me that whenever I’m not there, students ask where I am. I take that as a great sign! There are more girls than boys. There is a heavy dropout rate due to boys leaving to become herdsmen out in the steppes or simply no interest.

My school is only a three minute walk from my apartment building. A distance I will be grateful for during the blustering cold winter months, (rumor is it might snow soon). Despite the twisting road ahead as I navigate myself through a Mongolian school and the high expectations for having a native English speaker in their midst, my goal is to take it nice and slow.

Here are tips for myself:

  1. To take it easy.
  2. To let things go. If one class goes poorly that doesn’t mean the other classes will.
  3. Don’t teach hungry.
  4. To always have stickers. Great for bribing students when the room is awkwardly quiet.
  5. Maintain organized even if everything else is a jumbled mess.
  6. And if everything goes to pot, take action.

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I’ll see you again

“Love you my family. Good luck. See you. Come back soon.”

A text message my host mother sent me the day I tearfully said goodbye to my host family.       

8 August was my last day and night with my host family. They took me to grandmother’s house for dinner. Ate grilled pork and it was scrumptious. My last act as a thank you for hosting me all summer was to give them thank you gifts. I made treasure maps for my host siblings and hid their presents in the yard. Their faces beamed when I handed them each a map and they instantly went running off. They carried their presents back like prized possessions.

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We finally departed our soum and our families the next morning. It was a sad farewell. Our families said good bye to us in front of the school. After 30 minutes of hugs and farewells, we finally piled into the bus that would take us to Darkhan. As we neared the boarder of our soum, we noticed little figures on top of a hill. Our families had driven ahead of us to intercept us at the border and once again we all hugged and said our good byes. This time, it was more difficult. I furiously hugged my host mother and my host siblings not knowing when I would see them again.

Peace Corps training flew by so fast. After our two-week Nadaam break, everything else torpedoed past me so fast that I panicked a little: “Is our summer already over?!?!” A lot happened during my last three weeks.

At the end of our last practice teaching at school, we awarded all the students with certificates as a reward for coming to our summer English classes. My host brother and his cousin now know their ABC’s and have been singing it repeatedly over and over and over again. I also passed my LPI (Language Proficiency Test). For 20-minutes, I sat in a room with my “interviewer” and talked about myself in Mongolian and answered questions in Mongolian.

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The last day at school was a bittersweet day. We took down all of our Mongolian language posters from the walls and swept the floors. It felt like it was the end of a school year. I had moments when I was too tired to be in school or I was getting frustrated with the language but I was sad at seeing the walls stripped bare. The school had become my second home.

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Our language books and notebooks liter the tables.

 

I spent a lot of time in Darkhan. On 5 August at 6:30 am, all 47 PCTs traveled to Darkhan for a teacher-training seminar. Seven PCTs are going to be teacher trainers and they each gave a 40-minute lesson in front of Mongolian-English teachers. The rest of us were there to observe. I remained in Darkhan afterwards with Emma and her host family. I got to see more of the city: I walked across Darkhan’s bridge and gazed upon the big, golden Buddha statue, wandered around in supermarkets, and had dinner at a Korean restaurant. The following day, I  returned with my own host family.

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Mongolians praying in front of the large Buddha statue as the sun sets behind.

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We had our Host Family Appreciation Party down by the river. Our host parents bought a sheep and its dead body was strung up on a branch to be prepared for our dinner. This meal is called Khorkhog. As the sheep was getting chopped up and tossed into the pot, we had a relay-race, a water balloon toss, darts, and “beer” pong – (we used water), and played volleyball. We also gave speeches (in Mongolian!) to our host families, thanking them for their incredible hospitality. We ate apple and orange slices, bananas, and chips and peanuts as an appetizer before the main course was served: goat meat, including fatty stomach intestine, potatoes, and rice. After dinner, we splashed in the river and danced. Eventually, the mosquitoes became too pesky and painful bringing a stinging end to the party.

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During our Host Family Appreciation Party, only younger adults and children participated in the games while the adults preferred to remain seated in their circle talking and sharing vodka. However, Mongolians love music and they love to dance! Music was being played all night and after 8, our host parents weren’t shy in bopping and twirling around in the grass with each other. 

Mongolian hospitality is legendary. Never have I experienced such incredible generosity, warmth, and kindness. I was not just a guest but I was treated like I was a part of their family. My host siblings and all of their cousins referred to me as, “Anna sister.” They protected me while including me in their day-to-day lives.

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