To Poland

While my typical idea of winter break involves soup cups full of tea and marathons of Fringe while swaddled in an afghan, this year I made an alternate commitment. Starting before noon on the 1st, I hauled butt clear across the country and into southern Poland to work at Wizard Camp. Together with 46 Ukrainian students, a handful of staff, and two more American volunteers, we conducted an English camp for a week in the town of Zywiec (pronounced: Jivets. Polish is a mystery to me.) Although I was under the impression we'd be wearing striped scarves, preparing potions, and quibbling over quidditch rules, this was good too.

Zywiec is a quiet hamlet outside of Krakow, ensconced in rolling hills and evergreen forests. We shacked up at Rychwald Manor, a multi-building complex up the hill from town. The lodging was considerably nicer than any I've ever stayed at in Ukraine: consistent hot water, quaint slanted ceilings, and quality meals. In fact, the whole atmosphere was very pleasant. The church bells tolled every hour from the town below and the weather was surprisingly less severe than back home.

We taught lessons to a group of talented students throughout the day and did various activities with them in the evenings. Some of the highlights included team performances of songs and dances, cooking bratwursts over the fire, writing a play, karaoke night, making a time capsule, and writing letters to Santa (UkrChristmas is on the 7th of January due to the fact that the orthodox church uses the Gregorian calendar).

We took a day trip down to Vienna! While we didn't have much more than a few hours to wander the city, we managed to see the bulk of the sites and still meet a local. I can't say enough what a gorgeous place Vienna was, and so full of music. The next time I visit, I absolutely must see the opera, philharmonic, and plethora of museums and not simply gaze ignorantly at the statues and architecture.

We also stopped on our way home in Krakow. Whereas Vienna's beauty is stately, august white embellishments trimming the high pastel buildings which tower over narrow cobblestone streets, Krakow has a more organic beauty. The side-walks are under tree canopies, the buildings shorter and coloured rich earth tones, and even the river is more quaint and provincial than the regal Danube. I'd be lucky to live in either city, and both will require more of my attention in the future.

In the end, the week passed like a strange dream, and before I learned to pronounce "thank you" in Polish, I was back on a train in Ukraine. It was a surreal way to pass the winter: in an unassuming village with a group of dedicated children who could not only speak English but in fact wanted to do so. Spending so many days with good friends whom I had not seen in months if not more was also something of a Christmas miracle, one which ended all to soon. Being back in my town, back to my routine, renders the experience that much more ethereal, but I'm refreshed and motivated for my last year in Lutugino. Bring on 2014!

Mini H.E.A.L.

One of the major ongoing projects in Ukraine is HEAL. The primary focus of this project is a summer camp which helps combat the major problems facing Ukraine: human trafficking, HIV/AIDS, healthy relationships, and leadership development. The project doesn't just stop at the end of two weeks in July, however. Years back, a team of ingenious PCV's modelled a weekend day camp after the summer version, in order that the message reach more students in smaller schools with lower English levels. That's my school!

As with anything remotely new, my Ukrainians liked the idea of hosting an anti-AIDS program that would bring volunteers and T-shirts, but when the project started coming together there was increased scepticism. Our students will not want to sing songs, and they will not participate in discussions about sex. Our parents will complain if we demonstrate how to use condoms. Our cafeteria workers will not be able to make lunch. You will have difficulty gathering 30 students. No one will understand what you are talking about, and we can not translate everything.

Naturally, challenges were overcome. 30 students joined and, after an acclimation period, really got involved in the camp songs and chants. They participated in the discussions, activities, and competitions. Everyone had an excellent time, and several parents sent their thanks. One male student's mother told our principal that she was so glad that her son had had an opportunity to learn this valuable information at such a pivotal point in his life (8th grade). We were even thanked for the condom demonstration. Students came up to me all throughout the week after and asked if they could participate the following weekend (sorry, one time only), and several expressed interest in attending the full camp in the summer.

Of course, I had a boatload of help. Three extremely motivated and talented students came from across state lines at their own expense to act as youth counsellors and quasi-translators. They were total rock stars, and there's something valuable about receiving the message from peers instead of a bunch of foreign adults. Two other PCV's also came down from eastern towns in order to facilitate lessons. I could have maybe fumbled through teaching all thirty kids at once, but the ability to split the students into smaller groups was crucial. Most importantly, one obscenely knowledgeable and generous volunteer in particular came with all the lessons and materials necessary to make our two-day camp a success. In reality, this only happened because of her brains and enthusiasm.

Blah, okay. Pictures of kids learning!

Drawing healthy versus infected cells

Some brick faces in there.

Biology lesson

Some ice breaker that I wasn't a part of... 

Yay! Happy students!

The main event...

Doing an activity on stigma and discrimination.

Prejudice activity

Everyone's favourite ice breaker: People to People!

Bullying lesson

The winning team's paper tower. Leadership and communication succeed!

Tired, sick, but carrying on

Everyone receives T-shirts, bracelets, diplomas, and smiles!

Camp MAKE

Peace Corps (in Ukraine at least) hosts a lot of summer camps. Some focus on English ability, some on HIV education and prevention. While many cover a broad swath of interests, others isolate a particular sliver of nerdiness like Model UN or Roman history. Girls only, boys only, debate camp, and soccer + AIDS testing: the choices are as varied as they are numerous. To staff these mega camps can be, by some reports, a stressful nightmare week filled with misbehaving children and headbutting with Ukrainian directors, or it can be my experience.

Camp MAKE (Multiculturalism * Action * Knowledge * Empowerment) is one of those camps painted in broad strokes. Over the 10 days, we taught everything from East Asian dance to Simon and Garfunkel, water colour painting to CPR, environmentalism to speech writing, improv comedy to American football. We also rocked their collective socks with a series of team building challenges, making them perform acrobatics in the linguistic, scientific, logic, physical, engineering, and artistic fields.

While the classes were great fun, it was only because the people were so awesome. The 90 students at this camp came from all over the country, and they were some of the best Ukraine has to offer. The level of enthusiasm, creativity, and intelligence was simply astounding. If Ukraine weren't so politically...shady, I would say there were future presidents at this camp, but suffice it to say that all these kids will be playing important roles in their country's future.

Enough blathering, you can tell just how much fun it was from the pictures!
There were dress-up days:

America and Ukraine Day

Super Hero Day 

Dead Day

Twin Day

There was learning:

Still-life Painting

Geography

Human Anatomy

There were team challenges:

People to People!

Team name/poster/chant creation

A murder mystery

Field Day

And there was just wholesome fun:

Humiliation for Russian speaking

Dorm cooking night

Funky Chicken

Trivia night

Babushkas sticking out their tongues

Camp games

Card game night

A big thank you from all the staff and students to everyone who helped make this camp a home run! Your donations helped these kids have a wonderful 10 days that they won't soon forget.

Fine Arts Camp

With my first week of summer, I conducted a day camp for kids in my town. Tired of the same old family tree project and discussion of sport, I planned a camp that used English to teach music, skits, and dance. With the help of a few other volunteers and community members, 30 kids learned step, Elmo's song, the gingerbread man, and others. Parents were happy with the performance, it was great to have some friends in town, and the students were happy to be part of something different. Here are some performance pictures.

 Step

 Hip-hop

 The Ants Go Marching

Gingerbread Man 

 Who Will Bell the Cat?

Last Bell

In my school, I teach the whole spectrum of students: 4th graders all the up to seniors (11th...). There are several groups, however, with whom I have a special relationship. My 5th graders and I meet 3 times a week, for instance, whereas most other groups will only see me once in that time. The seniors, however, have been my absolute favourites. I almost never see the 10th graders, and the 9th graders are obnoxious, but my upperclassmen are just the best. We meet regularly, including after class for advanced work. It was from this group of students that I snagged my cooking club boys. They are the most capable and motivated students in the school, which is what makes it particularly difficult to say goodbye to them.

Ukrainian schools bookend their academic calendar with First and Last Bell ceremonies. While the September event is a celebration of the new first graders and the promise of a new year of learning, the Last Bell is full of mixed feelings. All students officially go up a grade on this day, which is exciting. However, we say goodbye to the 11th graders. Draped in "Graduand" ribbons like at a beauty pageant, each school-leaver rings a golden hand bell, and the younger students shower them with flowers and best wishes.

Several of the young teaching staff gathered for lunch that day at the swanky (read: bechristmas-lighted) 999 Café in the centre of town, but I had the great honour to be invited to the private end of year stag party. In my school, there are 3 other male teachers. First, there's Boris Paulovich, the ancient and totally awesome chemistry teacher. He always makes conversation with me, usually about drone strikes or nuclear weapons history, which is so much more fun than small talk. The wood-shop teacher is named Andrey Boot, who helped me build and install my balcony shelves. Naturally, the PhysEd coach Constantine Nikolayevich is the third, a fellow kulinar but only in the most manly ways imaginable.

Together with these three gentlemen, I gathered at the no-girls-allowed club house: the weight training room in the gym. We enjoyed Constantine's home-made pickles, sausage, and vodka, while jamming to the radio station "America Hits Music." Then things got interesting. When the basketball came out it didn't seem like the best idea, but it was certainly more advisable than the BB gun. Well buzzed, we picked off ping pong balls and balloons on tables across the gym. Nobody shot their eye out.

The actual graduation ceremony didn't occur until almost a week later. The girls were decked out in prom dresses, the boys in suits. With a team of snare drum majorettes rented from Lugansk, all the graduands and their teachers and parents marched from the school to the town square, where other students and interested onlookers had gathered. The students did a choreographed catwalk while being introduced to the town as the freshest batch of adults. We then went inside the House of Culture for 3 hours of concert, diplomas, speeches, gifts, tears, and a personalized poem from the principal to each graduand. After night had fully descended, we stepped out onto the square once again for 15 straight minutes of fireworks and acrobatic dancing. The kids (who range in age from 17 to 18 years old) left the square for Korsar, a café their parents had rented for the evening, to enjoy dancing and champagne. These parents pulled out all the stops.

The downside of a school as small as this one is that while it's not hard to teach every student, it leaves no surprises for next year. I already know exactly who my kids will be, and these 11th formers have left them some big shoes to fill. They will be missed, but now I can pour my attention into a new group of children, who will hopefully prove to be just as special as the last.

Ouroboros

A few weeks ago, I and the rest of my cohort passed our one 1 year mark in country. This heralds a lot of good news, not the least of which is the end of winter. It wasn't the load of bricks we were led to believe it would be, but that may be due to the combination of it having been a relatively mild winter and my Michigan blood. Now the town is waking up again, shaking off its crusty hibernation. I feel a sympathy for the other half of volunteers, who arrive in winter. Whereas their first impression of their site was a cold, grey ghost-town, I have fond memories of a green and vibrant community. The end of a year means I finally get that back again.

Riding the dual high of sunlight and warm weather, my past week was very productive. I drew up some plans to put shelves on my piddly balcony. The labour training teacher has agreed to help me assemble and install them. In anticipation of the shelves, I got a summer herb garden started: basil, cilantro, watercress, and spinach. I've even got some cherry tomatoes and petunias going (The Russians call this sudden planting of a space озеленение or "greenification"). I completed both my taxes ($2,377.42 for the whole year, woohoo!) and the behemoth Volunteer Reporting document. I tried a new pizza dough / BBQ chicken pizza recipe. I knocked out a presentation with facts on all fifty states. Oh, and let's not forget that the notorious "not soon" sofas have returned, so at last my house has all its furniture.

The end of the first 12 months also concludes several other things. For starters, school is almost out. With the slew of orthodox holidays in the run-up to and aftermath of Slavic Easter (May 5th this year), classes won't even be in session for a full 2 weeks next month. What little school we do have left is a never-ending cycle of test prep and graduation dance rehearsals. The end of the '12-'13 school year means I will soon need to reboot my culinary club. Replacing these boys won't be an easy task, but I am excited about reaching out to a fresh audience.

Throughout Peace Corps orientation and training, the powers told us to be patient: spend the first year at site becoming a member of the community, then make waves during the second half of your service. I have faithfully stuck to this principle, integrating like a beast for the past year. [Status update: Russian now surpassing Korean at its peak; Expanding to direct communication with parents of students; Strong friendships in multiple social circles.] Now it's time to put this network to use, which demands a fundamental shift in my service priorities and my lifestyle. As of now, my school is floating the idea of overhauling one of the older, more dilapidated classrooms to transform it into a school newspaper. First, I have to make it through a very active summer, but I'm not opposed.

On the point of summer, if you're interested in supporting the camp in which I'm participating, you can donate online in a matter of minutes.*** Your donation will help fund the transportation and camp costs for needs-based scholarship recipients, as well as the materials we need for lessons and projects throughout the camp.

***Edit: The camp has been fully funded! Thanks to everyone who helped us get there! :)

Fakesgiving and the End of Fall

With fall break at the end of October, several of us decided that it was necessary to take the time off we had and gather together for a Thanksgiving-style dinner. One dish per person: that was the goal. With twelve of us coming, that meant a lot of food and a lot of work. For both M and I, this was the first time we'd ever hosted a Thanksgiving event, so naturally we wanted everything to be perfect. We tapped a lot of generational knowledge built up from years of watching our own families pull off such a feat. Respect to anyone who's ever had to do this.

We hawked the meat market for a turkey, the vegetable section for celery, and the various magazines for a decent dark beer. We started cooking 2 days in advance. M busted out an impressive 3 pies, including apple, peanut butter, and a laborious pumpkin pie from scratch. The twelfth of twelve dishes came off the stove top at exactly the right time. It was an impressive spread, if I do say so myself. A delicious and moist turkey, sausage/apple cornbread stuffing, pumpkin soup, stewed veggies, broccoli casserole, mac'n'cheese, glazed carrots, mashed potatoes with gravy, stuffed zucchini, a raspberry-pomegranate sauce, buttery bread, and a big tossed salad.

My actual service is going wonderfully. They say that the first year is hard for Americans. We so eagerly want to do that we lack the patience to build the connections necessary in this country for any sort of progress. Well, I've certainly been doing a lot of integrating and relatively little doing. My neighbors have started including me in their weekly dinner parties with their other young-couple friends. I went fishing with my language tutor, where I met his father and cousin. I celebrated some staff birthdays and the pizza joint. Slowly, I meet more and more people. Slowly, my Russian is shifting from forcing myself to listen to the noises to actually understanding them (and perhaps soon to participate in group conversation). Slowly, I'm becoming a part of this community.

Perhaps the most exciting development of all happened days after the 115th birthday of the city. My school forced me to perform a song for the town's birthday, where the guy running the lights mentioned me to the director of the House of Culture, who then encouraged the leader of a small men's ensemble to invite me to join. Since that day, I have been singing with him and his ragtag group consisting of a welder, student, security guard, and chef. It has been a huge step for my language skills and my community integration, but mostly it's just really wonderful to have a hobby and a group of friend's outside of my school and apartment. Concert in December!

Lastly, I leave you pictures of my culinary club boys, who were thrilled today to cook Russian crêpes.