I keep telling myself, "Today will be the day that I blog." And then every single day gets busy, and writing on here becomes the last thing on my mind. Today was just so crazy I had to write....to give you a sneak preview, I'll tell you that I got handcuffed by a police officer today. Intrigued?
My second summer school class has started, so I'm back on campus every day, back to the familiar routine of reading pages and pages of material every night. Whenever I'm not doing schoolwork, I'm researching plane tickets and hostels and train routes for the UK, which all sounds delightful until you start obsessively pouring over every possible option for hours and can never decide on buying anything. I hate gigantic, expensive purchases that need to be made with money I don't have.
Anyway, today was a long, long day. I sat up late last night mapping out plane routes, and then decided to check my phone for messages at 2 AM when I finally rolled into bed. I had a call from my supervisor, telling me that refugees needed to be picked up at 8:30 in the morning. Running on 4 & 1/2 hours of sleep and multiple shots of espresso, I drove across town, loaded up my car with a mother and her small children, then headed to ESL classes.
This was my first time observing ESL class, and it made me feel overwhelmed and befuddled for everyone involved....the students who couldn't understand almost the teacher was saying, and the poor teacher who was trying desperately to communicate basic concepts like "Sign your name" while all the students were talking to each other in their various native languages. It was a bit like watching people simultaneously punching either side of a brick wall in the middle of a three ring circus.
I also found out that I'm apparently a big hit with the Middle Eastern crowd. As we were sitting in the class, an Iraqi guy in his twenties walked into the room and began excitedly speaking Arabic as his face lit up when he saw me. The other Iraqi students in the class quickly began speaking to him in Arabic as they pointed at me and shook their heads, correcting his mistake. Apparently he mistook me for a fellow Iraqi refugee ( which I consider quite a compliment, considering how lovely Middle Eastern women are). The language barrier was apparently not a deterrent, because a couple of Iraqi guys tried to give me their phone numbers as I left the building.
While the class was in progress, I walked out to the main room, where close to a hundred ESL students (most of them presumably refugees) had gathered to hear a presentation on their new civic rights in America. It was neat to look out over the room, where were so many nationalities and ages represented, all of them listening intently to the several translators scattered across the room. Through translators, a policeman gave them a lecture on the function of the police force and why they shouldn't be afraid when they see them, etc. When he spotted me as one of the few English speakers in the room, he asked me to come up as a model for a basic friendly interaction (such as showing your license when you get pulled over). He then leaned over to me as said "How do you feel about being handcuffed?" I almost snickered out loud, and then I remembered I should act serious.
You know those surreal moments when you have to remind yourself that this is really your life? That's how it felt when I put my hands behind my back was led across the room in handcuffs in front of about a hundred eagerly watching refugees. After some initial expressions of surprise and disbelief, waves of laughter spread across the room, particularly when the cop pretended to lose the key. Situational humor seems to transcend language barriers.
After driving refugees back to their home, I broke multiple speed limits to make it back to campus, just in time to run into my psych class, still running on espresso and struggling to stay awake as I listened to a two hour lecture. What a day....
As a means of recovery, I decided to make myself some fried chicken and roasted potatoes for dinner, and I'm about to go devour a bowl of ice cream as I continue my incessant travel research.
My second summer school class has started, so I'm back on campus every day, back to the familiar routine of reading pages and pages of material every night. Whenever I'm not doing schoolwork, I'm researching plane tickets and hostels and train routes for the UK, which all sounds delightful until you start obsessively pouring over every possible option for hours and can never decide on buying anything. I hate gigantic, expensive purchases that need to be made with money I don't have.
Anyway, today was a long, long day. I sat up late last night mapping out plane routes, and then decided to check my phone for messages at 2 AM when I finally rolled into bed. I had a call from my supervisor, telling me that refugees needed to be picked up at 8:30 in the morning. Running on 4 & 1/2 hours of sleep and multiple shots of espresso, I drove across town, loaded up my car with a mother and her small children, then headed to ESL classes.
This was my first time observing ESL class, and it made me feel overwhelmed and befuddled for everyone involved....the students who couldn't understand almost the teacher was saying, and the poor teacher who was trying desperately to communicate basic concepts like "Sign your name" while all the students were talking to each other in their various native languages. It was a bit like watching people simultaneously punching either side of a brick wall in the middle of a three ring circus.
I also found out that I'm apparently a big hit with the Middle Eastern crowd. As we were sitting in the class, an Iraqi guy in his twenties walked into the room and began excitedly speaking Arabic as his face lit up when he saw me. The other Iraqi students in the class quickly began speaking to him in Arabic as they pointed at me and shook their heads, correcting his mistake. Apparently he mistook me for a fellow Iraqi refugee ( which I consider quite a compliment, considering how lovely Middle Eastern women are). The language barrier was apparently not a deterrent, because a couple of Iraqi guys tried to give me their phone numbers as I left the building.
While the class was in progress, I walked out to the main room, where close to a hundred ESL students (most of them presumably refugees) had gathered to hear a presentation on their new civic rights in America. It was neat to look out over the room, where were so many nationalities and ages represented, all of them listening intently to the several translators scattered across the room. Through translators, a policeman gave them a lecture on the function of the police force and why they shouldn't be afraid when they see them, etc. When he spotted me as one of the few English speakers in the room, he asked me to come up as a model for a basic friendly interaction (such as showing your license when you get pulled over). He then leaned over to me as said "How do you feel about being handcuffed?" I almost snickered out loud, and then I remembered I should act serious.
You know those surreal moments when you have to remind yourself that this is really your life? That's how it felt when I put my hands behind my back was led across the room in handcuffs in front of about a hundred eagerly watching refugees. After some initial expressions of surprise and disbelief, waves of laughter spread across the room, particularly when the cop pretended to lose the key. Situational humor seems to transcend language barriers.
After driving refugees back to their home, I broke multiple speed limits to make it back to campus, just in time to run into my psych class, still running on espresso and struggling to stay awake as I listened to a two hour lecture. What a day....
As a means of recovery, I decided to make myself some fried chicken and roasted potatoes for dinner, and I'm about to go devour a bowl of ice cream as I continue my incessant travel research.
