There is something about a rising moon on a perfectly clear evening that takes my breath away. Tonight I stepped outside to go buy some water and I saw the moon just barely peeking over the horizon. It was almost transparent and a light shade of pink; blending in with the light shade of purple that was the sky. It was so beautiful that I just stood there for a minute... watching it rise. As I walked the 2 minutes to the store I forgot about it (short term memory loss, ADD, the cold, I don't know...) and when I came out, it caught my eye again: this time as a bright orange ball. The snow of the last 4 days and the sun of today brought such fresh air to our village and clear skies that I felt I could see every nook and cranny on this full moon. Again, I stood there for a minute... looking quite silly, I'm sure, to the men standing in the street. But I didn't care. It was beautiful... so beautiful, that I looked back over my shoulder every couple of steps to catch another glimpse on my way home.

Photographing the moon is something I have not been able to do properly. I think it is because I need a different lens, but this is the best I got for tonight... just know it does NOT do it justice!!

In high school I had a group of friends that were all very intelligent and they knew exactly what they wanted to go to college for, and they did just that. Me, on the other hand? Well, I was all over the board. I wanted to be a teacher, then a photojournalist, then a photographer. I hadn’t a clue. But they voted me as “the one the most likely to get married first”. Considering I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life I guess that made sense (plus, I supposed I always talked about it. Oh, wait. That hasn’t really changed). At that time I never thought much about traveling and exactly what my future might hold, until I was asked by teachers in the art department of my school to join them and other students on a trip to Paris. That 6 day trip (in which I lost my passport so then spent 2 of those days in the Embassy and 2 more traveling) forever changed me. While many of my classmates are now married (or not married) and have babies on the way or a couple in diapers, I’ve chosen a different path. A different destiny, if you will. Unlike my friends who all knew they wanted to be in the medical field and classmates who chose to settle and raise a family, I’ve chosen to travel. But that doesn’t ever seem to really stop me from asking “what if”.

Grey’s Anatomy is a television show that these same friends got me hooked on watching. As any Grey’s fan would say, “the first couple of seasons were great. They should have stopped while they were ahead,” however, that doesn’t keep me from watching it. Today I tuned in to a new episode after watching the newest episode of Glee. My dad sent me a quote a few days ago from Susan L. Taylor: Thoughts are energy, and you can make your world or break your world by your thinking. Well, maybe my thoughts told me I needed to download these shows and watch them in the order that I did today because it just, well, clicked. I’ll begin with Grey’s since that is how I began this. If you haven’t watched an episode before I’ll key you in to this: it’s just drama, drama, drama. But that’s what we all love, right? So anyways, in this episode, it begins with Meredith, the main character, holding her adopted baby from Africa. As with every episode, we see one thing happening and we hear her voice speaking over what is going on. Whatever she begins with saying is a prelude to what the episode is going to be about (usually rather deep thoughts) and then the episode ends with her concluding thoughts. Today it was this: The baby you have is the baby you were destined to have. It was meant to be. That’s what all of the adoption people tell you. Anyways I like to think it’s true. But everything else in the world seems so completely random. What if one little thing I said or did could have made it all fall apart. What if I’d chosen another life for myself. Or another person. We might have never found each other. What if I’d been raised differently? What if my mother had never been sick? What if I’d actually had a good father. What if. What if. What if.

Hm. Wow. Just think about that for a minute. Done thinking? Yea, I’m not either but I’m going on anyways. The rest of the episode plays out as if things had been different; if her mother hadn’t had that disease that makes you forget things and died, if her father hadn’t been absent, if her current husband had stuck with his ex wife, if her current best friend was her enemy, etc. It was all of the stories put together of how the relationships between the characters on the show were presented- which of course, because it’s about drama, didn’t even come close to ending that way. For the first 20 or so minutes, everything looks perfect. The people that we thought were supposed to be together were together, pregnant or with kids already, and happy. Everyone was happy and everything looked great. But then the truth was revealed that the baby Shepard is pregnant with is really not her husband’s kid, but instead that of his best friend… and this, that, and the other. In the end of the episode, it seemed that the flaws we now know of with these people were still their flaws; even though they had made different life decisions. And when these flaws came out, the “destiny” of the person ended up being the same as we know it is today. One of the doctors says this which I think sums it all up: Some things are going to work out as if they were destined to happen; and some as if they were just meant to be.

You see, we all want things in our lives. We want happiness, we want this spouse, we want this car, we want this job, we want to live in this place, etc. But if anyone else there is like me (and I’m sure you are), we wonder “what if”. In my life in particular, I often wonder what my life would have been like if my mom hadn’t died. What if she was still alive… would I have found my love for photography, traveled to France in high school, gone to KU, had the friends that I had, and then come to Moldova or would I still be living in the suburbs of Kansas City, married, and working in an office? What if I had been accepted to Teach for America… would I still have filled out the application for the Peace Corps… just to see? What if I cut ties back when I was first questioning things… would I have the relationship with my host family that I do now? What if. What if. What if.

While I can’t stop all of these thoughts (and the thousands more that came with that) from happening, I can try to control them. Wondering “what if” really isn’t going to do anyone any good because, as they later said in the show, “we make our own destiny”. And, I strongly agree with this although we don’t necessarily realize it at the time it is happening. One never knows what is waiting around the corner… so why not go and find it out for himself. While I may not necessarily choose who I meet and when I meet them or when opportunities are going to arise, I can begin by making good decisions. Because I can’t go back and change things there is not a point in wondering “what if”. Some things are going to work out because they were meant to be, and others because they’re destiny. But I’ll never know which is which and, well, it is what it is. It’s up to me to move forward and focus on now instead of wondering “what if”.

Which brings me quickly to Glee. The quote that got my head racing: you can't change your past but you can let go and start your future.

I’m really not going to comment on that because I feel like it speaks for itself.

At the end of the day, all I can say is this. Five years ago and I had no idea how many changes I was going to go through that year, let alone proceeding 5. Heck, I didn’t even know Moldova existed and I thought Spain was north of France. I do not know what my future holds for me (even though a couple of Roma fortune-telling women seem to think otherwise). I cannot tell you (or myself) why I’ve made some of the decisions I’ve made in my life or why things happen the way they do. But, regardless, they do. The last 20 months of living in Moldova has changed me in ways that I didn’t even know possible, and quite frankly, I didn’t even know needed changed. It doesn’t matter what got me here; what matters is I’m here and I’m happy I’m here. Something about my being here was meant to be so it could shape my destiny- whatever that may be. And you know what? I’m 100% (ok, 99%) all right with that… at least right now.

Also, I wanted to end this post with a photo of the snow from today but I just looked at them and it doesn't even do close to justice for the amount of snow that is now on the ground. Unbelievable.

If you've been reading my blog since sometime around August 2010 and March 2011, you probably know how hard it was for me to adjust to my host family. If you don't know what I'm talking about, I'm glad because now it is a completely different story. As much as I can't wait for June, trust me when I say leaving my host family is going to be the hardest part of these two years in Moldova. Ok, moving on because I'm already teary-eyed; which is not what I meant by the title of this post. Well, not really.

The daily knock on my window around 6pm meant it was time for dinner. I walked the 7 seconds to the casa mica where my host family lives and cooks, and when I entered, my host dad was sleeping so I tried to be quiet. My host mom didn't care that he was sleeping because it was time to eat- and the mamaliga was going to get cold (and it's not good when it's cold) so he needed to get up anyways... so she broke the ice and asked if I was cold. "Yes, yes I am" I said, because it's freaking cold out there! As my host dad started to get up, he was "ouf, ouf, ouuuufffff" ing because apparently his leg is really hurting him today (I didn't know this was a problem). When he made it the 2 steps from the bed to the table, he had a hard time sitting down. Once he sat, he had a hard time sitting. So then he stood up (with my host mom laughing at him this whole time). At one point when he was standing up, he bent down to pick up some mamaliga and cheese crumbs that had fallen to the floor. As he did this, it looked like he was a ballerina so I asked him if he was one (yes, I do bring jokes. Sometimes. And really, I think only my host mom appreciates them because she's the only one that ever laughs. No one else seems to get them- in English or Romanian). This then caused him to laugh (once he got it) but my host mom was way ahead of him- so far ahead, in fact, that it almost brought her to tears. My host dad then added to the humor in sticking his leg back as if he was dancing, and then when he came back in from stepping outside for a couple of minutes, he stood next to the soba and did a table-top bend/move/dance-thing-whatever-the-technical-term-is-I-don't-know. He's a funny one!

Tonight we laughed till we cried. Yea, I'm going to miss this. Ouf, ouf, ouuuffff.

Who do I really take pictures for?

When that thought crossed my mind, it was because I was taking photos of things that are not "print worthy". I mean, why was I taking photographs if I didn't hope to see them hanging on a wall someday? Of course I take photos of things because I want people to hang them on their wall to enjoy. However, I also take them for my students. And my family. And my friends. I take photos of things for other people- usually not myself. I take photos because I want to share what I see with people who may never get the chance to see it. It's kind of like the idea of my photojournalism project... I want to photograph schools so kids can see what schools are like in other countries because they'll probably never get the chance to see them (because, who really goes to see schools when they're traveling? If you can think of someone, please do tell me because I'd like to talk to them!). I take pictures of food and people and details for other people. I have been there. I know what the people, the food, doors, sidewalks, etc look like... so why do I photograph them? For others- that's the answer.

This is something I had been wanting to write about but of course I never got around to it (like the post on France. Hey, the photos are done and most of them are on facebook. Check them out if you want). Today I came across this article and it made me glad I haven't written it yet. And here's why. The photographer whom this article is about talks about his "rebirth" in Venice, California. He is one of those lucky and incredibly talented people who got a start at a young age and has had much success in his life with photography. With an overloaded schedule of commercial shoots, he felt like something was missing. Then he thought of a quote by Helmut Newton:

You should be able to walk out your door and find a picture within two or three miles.

Mr. Alston jokingly added, "Of course, he always picked these great places like Monte Carlo, so he could say that.”

Well, I chose Moldova. It is definitely not Monte Carlo or Venice... and I can definitely gind a good picture within two or three miles. But this is beside the point of what I'm wanting to say. Later down in the article he says:

If you can find joy in walking down the street, and you see a leaf, it makes you happy and you photograph it, that’s a beautiful thing.

Mr. Alston is right. Sure, I take photographs of things I wouldn't normally photograph for my personal use because I have other people in mind. In fact, I would venture to guess that 90% of the images I make are for that reason. Photography, though, makes me happy. Using Alston's example, I can take a picture of a leaf when walking down the street. I may never, ever show anyone else that photo or I may never even look at it again. However, for that split second, hearing the "click" of my shutter close made me happy. And that, my friends, is why I take pictures. It makes me happy.

Yesterday was one of the worst days I've had at school. Thankfully I had plans to help celebrate the birthday of (now) 12 year-old Iustina (on the right). I could not have asked for a better way to turn a terrible day wonderful.

Once I left school I went straight to Maria's house. Shortly after I arrived, the Priest (Iustina's father) showed up and invited Maria to their house to celebrate the birthday. Once she finished up her tutoring lessons, we walked through the cemetery in the snow together. The Priest and his wife have 4 children but there is always a plethora of kids visiting and even guest animals.

This is their youngest son, Sergiu. In their backyard they have a pen full of pigeons, doves, and birds that I have no idea what kind they are. Left: Maria, Iustina, and me.

After lunch/dinner we went across the street to visit the church. They still had the decorations from Christmas up and they wanted to show me. Behind the Priest is a wall. When I was in Razeni, we had a tour of the church there and I remember them telling us that females are not allowed behind the wall (but they did let us stand at the doorway and peek in) and I didn't understand why. When I asked my Priest this question, at first he just said, "I don't know. That's just how it is" because he did not want to offend me; a foreigner with possibly different beliefs. But then his conscience got the best of him and he had Maria translate for me (although I understood what he was saying). Apparently this "sin" dates back to the 600's. Before then, women were allowed behind this wall and at baptisms. But after this time, they were forbidden. This is because at this time there were a lot of poor people who could not afford undergarments. Women would wear long skirts and dresses, but there would not be anything underneath them, so when they were having their monthly cycle (or if they had just given birth), they were considered "unclean" and "dirty", so it was preferred if they just stayed home and definitely out of the church as to not make a mess. Then, once they were allowed back into the church, they wanted a place just for the men, which is why now, only men are allowed behind this wall. To this day in Moldova (and possibly other places), women are not allowed in a church or at religious ceremonies if they are on their period, even though there are now products to keep it clean.

Maria has a white cat at home, and this is the son of her cat. If you didn't know, it would be very easy to think this is the same cat by not only the physical appearance but the mannerisms, too, and the way in which it responds to Maria.

I'm not going to say much about these photos because I do believe they speak for themselves.

Just shortly after they were taken, though, shit hit the fan. Then the fan flung the shit everywhere causing a big mess. I have never before physically felt my blood pressure rise, or physically felt it be that high and I hope I never do again. There are some children in this world that do not know how to behave, have no discipline, and have no respect. Until now I never understood why some kids were sent to military schools in the middle of the night without warning. Now I get it. Whether it's the fault of the parent or just how the kid is... some kids need discipline in a military fashion in order to shape the hell up.

I took the advice of my aunt and started sending the kids outside with work to do, and if they didn't do it, I'd give them a low mark. Well, the work and the low marks are still not enough to encourage them to behave. Now it's a game and they even prefer to go outside. So glad they enjoy my lessons (sarcasm). I have come to the realization that children need discipline not just from school but from home, too. Without one or the other, they won't behave. It's been a year and a half here and I'm out of ideas and almost out of patience.

I've heard stories of how my mom used to roll her hair around orange juice cans and sleep in order to have big, loose, curls. I'm not sure about you, but that sure doesn't sound like I'd be getting a good night's sleep if I did that. So instead, I'm trying this: sock bun curls. My hair might have been too wet for this, but we'll see in the morning! I may have to experiment a few different ways. Maybe if I do this every night my hair will remember that at one point it used to curl/wave beautifully and therefore it will start to do it again. (Why did I wish to have straight hair??!!)

Just over 3 semesters into teaching in Moldova, I am finally giving in to sending the kids into the hall when they are misbehaving or just plain don't give a shit about school, English, or me. Whatever. I'm over it! I'm tired of trying to get them to want to learn: they won't. I'm tired of getting them to like me: they won't. I'm tired of at least trying to get them to sit quietly: they won't. So, I'm giving in.

Besides giving students bad marks due to their behavior in lessons, there are two other punishments I've noticed other teachers in my school doing. The little kids are told to stand up with their arms up above their head. This can last anywhere from 2 minutes to the entire class period, depending on the behavior of the student and the mood of the teacher. The big kids are usually not asked to do this. However, both the big kids and the little kids are sent out into the hall when they are misbehaving. Now, this is something up until this point I have been 100% absolutely against. I do not feel that it is a correct punishment to send students outside because I feel that they cannot learn if they are not in the classroom, and they obviously would prefer not to be there, so it is a form of reward to them to be sent outside... and I don't want to reward their disruptive behavior. Well, with barely over 4 months to go, I just don't care anymore. I'm tired of dealing with their shit. If they don't want to be there, I don't want them there either. At this point I am not going to convince them learning can be fun and English is important and they are lucky to have me (ha)... because if that was going to happen, it would have already happened. They are disruptive to my lessons and distracting to other students. So, I'm sending them out. It may be against what I believe, but I'd rather have a classroom where the kids that want to learn have an environment to learn.

The funny thing is that I started doing this today as I was covering a class for one of my partner teachers. When I told the kids to leave, they didn't want to leave... and actually kind of shaped up a bit. Hopefully this will help to keep the rest of this week flowing smoothly since I will be teaching every class alone in the place of my partner because she has gone to the capital to help her daughter, who just had a baby. Fingers crossed.

With only 5 more months to go, I've started realizing things I am really going to miss about Moldova. As I am sitting with my back next to the warm soba (one of the things I'm going to miss), I hear Vasile outside. If our gate is open, he walks in yelling, "Antonina! Tonina! Antonina!" looking for something to do or for some flowers. I'm really going to miss him.

Today as the passing period began between the first and second lesson, I was wrapping up a very educational game of with the 11th form UNO (practicing rule following, patience, colors, numbers, and following directions). I am left alone for the rest of the week teaching one of my partner teacher’s classes because her daughter had a baby and she is in Chisinau with her (as she should be). Yesterday was the first day I was taking over for her and the first lesson I had was with the 6th form and they were absolutely terrible. Absolutely. Terrible. Actually, most of the class was pretty good except for a couple of students that made the lesson practically unbearable. Anyways, this class walked in as I was wrapping up the educational activity with the 11th form. Of course they wanted to spend their lesson doing the same educational activity but after a day like yesterday, there was no way I would allow it. We were having a lesson, and I told them so. When we were about half-way through the lessons they asked (for the first time since I turned them down) if they could play UNO. Because I couldn’t believe how hard they were working and how behaved they were, I agreed, but told them we had to finish our current activity first. I could not believe those students that were in front of me quietly using the dictionaries, doing their work, and participating in the lesson were the same students that started my day off on the wrong foot yesterday. Yelling does not solve anything. Positive reinforcement does help. These kids live on it.

I just submitted to my first ever grant. This feels great!

I realize this image may not mean a lot to you, but trust me when I say it means a lot to me. I never knew 750 words could be so difficult to write but when writing a grant proposal there is a lot of information to be included in those 750 words so it is important to be as precise as possible and use the best language. Seven drafts later, I am presenting you with the final one. With this I hope you now understand what I will be doing after I finish my Peace Corps service in Moldova. In the next couple of months I will be putting together a video which I hope to post on kickstarter and emphas.is to raise funding, in addition to this grant. But before I post the final draft, I would like to say what I learned while writing this.

Grant writing takes time. LOTS AND LOTS of it.

It is OK to completely start over from scratch more than once.The way sentences are worded can make a world of a difference both in creating a mood and in word count

Ask for more than one opinionThe more information included, the betterBE CONFIDENT. Don't let the readers think you are unsure of yourself and your project, but let's be honest: if you were, you wouldn't be writing the proposal in the first place, right?It is difficult to write captions for photographsMaybe an online Masters degree in photojournalism and documentary photography isn't such a bad idea after all.And now for the proposal (while I cannot change the proposal that this current time, if you have any suggestions for a future grant proposal I will accept any positive criticism):

Mahatma Gandhi said, “If we are to reach peace in this world… we shall have to begin with the children.” One shared connection among children around the world is school education. Due to its prominence in so many young lives in the classroom, my project holds great potential to promote the kind of peace Gandhi envisioned. The goal of the project is a cultural exchange between the participating schools around the world through photography and social studies. With the dawning of the Internet Age, the world is becoming smaller every day; therefore, it is increasingly important for children to become familiar and culturally aware of the connected world around them by seeing and learning about the similarities and differences of children just like them in the participating schools. When awarded this grant, I will begin with the children in Bangalore, India then travel to Guatemala and Cameroon, staying with families a minimum of two months to show the complete story of education in the life of children. Each photo essay will be the story of one student from each school. I will then return to the schools to showcase the images and stories to the students in an educational interactive presentation. The culture of teenagers in schools in places like India, Guatemala, and Cameroon seem vastly different on the outside, but really have many similarities. Because I have had limited opportunity to begin the project while in the Peace Corps, I cannot give a proper comparison of the three locations. However, I will compare my high school in middle-class America with a school in rural Moldova. At sixteen, I received a car for my birthday. I woke up early to skip the morning traffic of teenagers and businessmen in the half-mile between my home and school. We used up-to-date science equipment, Smartboards before anyone knew what they were, and teachers remained after hours to answer questions regarding homework. I practiced sports after school, went to work to make money for the latest fashion or weekends at the cinema, ate McDonalds for dinner and raced home to do my homework and chat online. I could not wait for the freedom that came with college. When a youth turns sixteen in Moldova, they receive a new coat or a smartphone for their birthday. They use the asphalt patch at school to play football; not park cars. Most parents of sixteen-year-olds do not own a car because they do not need one; everything they need is either found in the village or a short mini-bus ride away. They wake up early to walk forty-five minutes to school, and use science equipment from the Soviet times. When the bell rings at 2 p.m., the school empties in minutes as teachers and students rush home to prepare meals for their families. Children help with chores and then use their smartphones or computers to chat with friends online. Their chief entertainment is the Friday night disco, where socializing and dancing takes precedent. They cannot wait to finish the 12th form to work or study abroad, making money for their families. This is merely a surface-level exploration of school culture in Moldova, and with the assistance of this grant and crowdfunding websites emphas.is and kickstarter, I will begin to properly document different cultures around the world. The constants of my project are the age of the students and public schools in urbanized environments. I will begin in Bangalore, India, living with a family of a high-school student for a minimum two months because children must grow comfortable with the camera in order for a photographer to properly document the environment of a school. The goal of this project is creating peace through cultural awareness within the classroom. Therefore I will be keeping a photo-heavy blog of my journey that non-English speaking students will be able to follow because the images posted will be enough to tell the story. Upon the project’s completion, I will return to the selected locations, putting the images together in an interactive educational slideshow, telling stories, and holding a discussion with the students comparing school cultures around the world. As this project continues, anyone will be able to follow the blog, thus not only creating cultural awareness in the schools where I intend to photograph, but also around the world. This is a project about cultures, bringing peace to the world through children of the world, and giving back to the people who help me. It begins with the day of the children.

This morning I woke up and pretty much completely re-wrote the proposal for a grant I am working on to fund my post-Peace Corps (PPC) adventures. While I realize you may still be confused as to just what that is if you have not spoken to me recently (sorry about that), I wanted to share a paragraph I wrote that I decided to cut because it did not fit with the flow of the rest of the proposal. However, I did make sure to include the main points of the paragraph (keeping cultures involved and giving back) in the actual proposal.

In 2010 I came to Moldova to teach English as a Volunteer. One secondary activity I participated in was spending a weekend in an orphanage where an American missionary group had been just months earlier to build new beds for the children. They brought with them many new toys and lacked structure when interacting with the children. When fifteen Peace Corps Volunteers showed up for a weekend of activities, our goals were structure and showing them we care. Upon arrival, the children immediately thought taking supplies, cameras, and phones from our hands, hitting our behinds, and climbing on us was acceptable. This is the message that was left by the missionaries who came through months earlier. Those missionaries thought they finished the job, so they will never return but we will. My project does not have an end because there will always be cultures to share and I will return and continue the contact after I leave. I do not want to leave the students behind and make them feel like they are just a project for me. I want them to continuously be involved in the project. I will be keeping a blog that will be very image heavy for those people that do not speak English, because this is a project more about the images and the thoughts they provoke and less about the words. As I document their culture they will see it, and as I document another culture, they will also see it. When I return to the schools to show the images, that is when they will get the structured message that comes with the photographs.

(on a side note: grant writing is very hard.)

I had a few friends and family contact me in regards to my last couple of posts (besides the "cleaning up" one. First of all, I want to say THANKS! I appreciate your concern, your support, and your encouragement. I know no matter where I am I have people that care for me and love me and support me.

However, I do want to say that if I came off as depressed or in a bad place, that was not my intention. I'm happy! Very happy! In fact, I'm more confident in myself than I've ever been! At the time of writing the post (more specifically this one), I was struggling with major decisions. It is all good, though, and I know the decisions I'm making are the right ones! Change has always been a struggle for me but it's always turned out well once I get used to it. Change is good! ...usually ;)

Contrary to popular belief by many Moldovans (with the exception of my host mom), I do not think I will make a good "gospodina' (or housewife) in the future. They seem to think this because I can bake, but what they don't know is I only give them the cookies or brownies when they turn out well. I can't cook even when I try to follow the recipe, the recipe of which I am looking back at every few seconds to make sure I have the right measurements and the right ingredient and the right temperature and I'm doing everything in the right step. It just never turns out right. While I know where everything is (and generally only lose things when someone else has tried to rearrange for me... except for when I misplace things, that's another story), I am not organized. What I like to think is one day when I eventually have my own place I will have enough storage space to put things but I keep ending up in places where I have no storage. The problem really may be that I have too many things, which is possible, but I really am limited on storage space usually (for example, my host mom cleaned out a cabinet of dishes for me to have somewhere to put my clothes). I'm one of those people that does not properly sort my laundry nor do I pay attention to the washing instructions, which has caused me to ruin the same shirt twice (the first time was pure ignorance and once I exchanged the shirt and then tried to wash it again I really did think about it and did not put it in the dryer, but I did use hot water... thus ruining it again. They wouldn't exchange it this time.), shrink my best pair of wool socks, cause a merino wool shirt to fit funny, and turn white clothes gray. And pink. And blue. When spending a summer traveling after studying abroad I thought it would be a brilliant idea to have many white clothes with me. Well, I sweat. A lot. And sweating turns white clothes yellow. My friend's mother in Paris offered to wash my clothes for me and when she gave them back they looked brand new. At that point I discovered bleach. Let me tell you- it's amazing. When I came to Moldova I brought mostly white anklet socks and a couple pairs of white underwear and that's it for the white things but I'd done a really good job of mixing them in with all of my other clothes so they'd become a funny color. It was time to bleach them so I did. However, I did not really know how to use bleach and the instructions were written in Russian so I was screwed. I put some bleach in some water and let them soak overnight. When I then washed them with soap and let them to dry, some had lost their elasticity and others had turned a shade of yellow. Moral of the story: I will not make a good housewife even if I can sometimes bake yummy things.

This bad-housewife fact was reiterated last week when I went to visit Maria. We'd had a little bit of a drizzle over the night and so it was kind of muddy, but I just had to see my new doorbell friend Dasa. She has decided she likes to crawl on my lap now which is fine when I wear jeans because, well, the dirt hides well. It does not, however, hide well on light gray dress pants. Needless to say I had little paw prints all over my thighs. When I arrived at Maria's house I told her as soon as I entered I needed a damp cloth to clean my pants because there is no way I could go to school with (obviously) dirty pants. She insisted I use a dry cloth which I obliged to even though I didn't think it would work. It worked like MAGIC- magic I tell you! Today I decided to try it again because the dusting of snow from last night made little Dasa's paws muddy again, and again, using a dry towel on dirt cleans up clothes just nicely.

Cleaning tips of the day: read instructions. sort clothes. less is more. use a dry cloth to get mudd off of clothes.

Today is apparently the New Year on the Old Calendar and I guess children go door-to-door asking for something, I'm not sure what. The reason I do not know what they want is this. On four separate occasions today children have rang the doorbell at my friend's apartment where I am hanging out. I answer the door because my Romanian is better than my friend's. They say something in Russian, which I do not understand but reply (in Russian) "I do not speak Russian'. At that point I get blank stares and then say, in Romanian, "Romanian or English?" to which they all responded "I don't understand" and "I don't speak Moldovan" in Russian.

Last I checked we were living in Moldova??!!

Last night I went through a whirlwind of emotions which quite honestly I haven't done for quite awhile. What fueled the fire was a conversation about the present in relation to the future and a thought of "it never will be" hit me. Life is all about making choices, whether it's what time to get up in the morning, what to have for breakfast, or what are one's goals. With approximately 6 months to go until I conclude the chapter of my life set in Moldova teaching English I am now being forced to make more decisions. My plan for the future is something I have kept rather quiet only because I am still unsure of how it will go and after last night I felt even more at a loss. But after some tears and a realization that choices have to be made, I know it's now or never and the photography project is something I'm going to do and if other things are meant to work out the will.

Since making that realization, things seem to be falling into place rather quickly. In a nutshell, I want to photograph schools around the world (beginning with 3 schools the first year) and then return to the schools to share the cultures of the other schools. This is a project that will not only take time and money but it will also mean a long time outside of the States for long periods of time and also other personal sacrifices, two of which became apparent to me last night. However, with the personal sacrifices set aside, like I said, things seem to be falling into place. I was originally thinking of beginning the project in Mumbai or New Delhi, India, since I will be in that area, however, I could not choose which one. Then I used facebook to contact an acquaintance who had once asked me to take her senior photos, who is from India. She suggested another city which is the 3rd largest and once I looked it up, things just came one after another for schools and possible contacts and life there, thus making me feel much more comfortable with the decision.

What I've learned from this is, once again, is everything happens for a reason. Certain relationships in my life have helped shape me to grow in ways that I never thought were possible and when having to make a choice it's important to really think about that choice. Traveling in France (post coming this weekend) over winter break showed me what it means to be an adult and how much more enjoyable traveling is when making responsible decisions (not to say that I don't ever make responsible decisions, I do, just sometimes I make not-so-responsible decisions... let's be honest). It is important to be confident in oneself to make wise decisions, and to be confident in oneself in general. I have had a very low self-esteem for a very long time and it is only recently that I have realized just how awesome I really am (ha) and that I can do great things, even if these things take time (goal-setting!).

Whew. Ok. Now my choice is to stop reflecting and get working on finishing up those photos from France. Know, though, that there is a new side of me coming out and you're going to like it.

I stopped to get some breakfast and a coffee since I slept through it on the first plane and the guy never gave me the check, so I went up to the bar and handed the lady 5 euros and went on my way (I got a pie/coffee deal). I thought the sign said 4.60, which is why I went for it vs going to Starbucks. Well, the guy came shuffling after me saying I needed to pay and when I did, he told me it was 8.30. WTF?! Apparently I misread the "special".

Note: always go for Starbucks when in an airport. Or don't sleep through the free stuff on the plane.

Today we tried to make it to Versailles because the website said it would be open. Well, it wasn't which is unfortunate because it is actually sunny, we already bought tickets, and it's a 3 hour round trip. So we will be back. But on the plus side, we represented America and got Starbucks.

I remember my host mom in France say once that she has only been to Paris a few times in her life and I didn't get it. Then my host mom in Moldova said the same thing. Now that I'm in Paris again I get it. Why come to the capital when it is full of tourists (myself included) and you can get everything you want at home or close to home? I do, however, believe there is something magical about Paris but maybe that's because I'm a foreigner.

This old woman walked into the subway and when she sat down she sighed. Then I noticed she was breathing heavy.

This young man opened the door for her.

She smiled.

... Then he proceeded to scare her when he held onto her arm to help her step down, but she responded with "thank you very much, but by now I'm use to this. Happy New Year!

Some things I will never get over when it comes to teaching in Moldova are the open lessons and also the "masas" at the end of the open lessons. You see, here's how it works. A few weeks before the assigned day, a teacher is notified that they will be holding an open lessons. What this means is teachers from all over the raion (basically the area... in my case, Riscani) will be coming to observe a lesson. This lesson is supposed to be done how it is done every day, however that's not the case. When photographing teachers (surprisingly) for a project for Teacher's Day, I noticed that when I walked in, most of them were sitting down giving their lessons (I know the feeling... I get tired, too). But when there are 20 teachers coming from around the district to observe, you can guarantee they aren't going to sit down and they are going to do everything according to the books, from writing the objectives and the title of the lesson on the board to using a projector that is borrowed from another school because we don't have one. The teacher plans way ahead for this lesson to make sure it's perfect, and even goes over it with the students so they know what to expect and they are fully prepared, thus making the observers think as though those kids really do their homework every day and participate. Ha. Anyways, it's quite a show because the teachers (and students) get all worked up over it (I don't blame them). At the end of the lesson, the teachers stay and critique it, offering their advice from what they observed which they may or may not have really seen or paid much attention to it because they may or may not have been answering their cell phones during the class or chatting away with their neighbor. Then, once the critique is finished (often taking up the entire next class period which thus disrupts other classes because the teachers that skipped their lesson for the open lesson stay for the critique, thus leaving the kids free once again... to wreck havoc. Well once this is completed everyone goes to have a "masa" (a form of party) to celebrate the end of the open lesson and to thank the guests for coming. The table is filled with all types of food and alcoholic beverages.

Now, this can be a lot of fun, as it was in the case of today. But, see, here's what happened. On Tuesday's I teach the 2nd, 4th, and 6th periods. Because all of the primary teachers were at a seminar, all classes with the primary students were canceled... which was my 4th lesson. Then, just as the students for the 6th lesson arrived, the gym teacher (who was observed today) came to us and said the kids were free to go home because we were invited to the party, and we had to come... he wouldn't take no for an answer. While the masa was nice and I enjoy socializing with the teachers (or, rather, listening to what they are saying), I would have liked to have been home after the 2nd lesson. After all, my host mom and brother killed the pig today and I could have been of much help.

This afternoon I walked into the local alimentara (market) just down the street to get some butter and eggs for the spritz cookies that I want to make this afternoon (and I'm still impatiently waiting for the butter to soften!!). There were two old women sitting on a bench and talking, which is a common site here, with their long skirts, "warm" vests, wool socks and rubbers shoes, and scarves over their heads. They looked to be about 70 years old, but that is something that is hard to tell because people age so much faster her. Anyways, we were chatting about their grandkids and how well they learn in school and whatnot, when all of a sudden one of the women said, "they have so many different types of food here now. You can get whatever you want." While I disagree because I could really use an avocado or some spinach right about now, I was curious as to what she meant by that. Lucky for me, she kept talking. Her eyes did that thing, you know, when you are telling a story to someone and slowly you look past them and it's like you're living it all over again. She said that she only studied through the 5th grade because after that the war started and her teachers all fled to Romania and by the time the war was over, she should have been in the 10th grade but was so far behind in her studies (as were all of the kids) that she didn't go back. Then she said it was something terrible. She remembers the hunger- everyone was hungry. The woman sitting next to her, who was 4 at the start of the war, says she remembers the hunger, too. There were people dying in the streets, she said... with no food. They were given some wheat to ground into flour at home which didn't last very long. (As a side note, my host mom told me once that one woman from the village had no choice but to kill her infant because they couldn't feed it and they also needed to eat...). Being as that it is winter now and overcast and slightly raining (yes, raining), I just felt transported to that time, although it is something I really cannot imagine because I have never been close to that in my life, nor is it something I hope to understand in the future. But it just sounded so horrible, and for a child to remember the pain, the sadness, the hunger, etc... it must have really been that bad. Oooouuufff.

When I was 11, my mom died of stomach cancer. It was a short battle, at least from my understanding. We had just moved to a new house and I remember her complaining of back pains and going to the chiropractor and me joking that she might be pregnant (which she didn't seem to like too much, but at that time I didn't really understand where babies came from. Oh my naivety). Anyways, 6 weeks before she died they diagnosed her with stomach cancer and said she didn't have long. When my dad told my sister and me about this, it was the end of September. He said she'll be lucky to make it to Thanksgiving and even luckier to make it to Christmas. However, before this, I remember my mom (or possibly one of my aunts) had bought us dresses and a photographer was supposed to come take pictures of us because we hadn't had pictures taken since we were really little (funny, now I'm a photographer... anyways...). When the time came for the photos, though, Mom had become really weak and so we didn't go through with the photos, which sucks. But it's life.

Well, this summer when I went home I held a "special" for portrait sessions because I wanted to stay busy and make some extra money. A family I babysat for told their friends about my special, one of which was her best friend, who was dying of cancer. At that point she had already long exceeded the time the doctors originally expected her to fight until (go Heidi!!). Being the child of a mother that died young, I cannot tell you how hard it was for me to do the shoot for Heidi and her family because all I kept thinking about were her kids, and how they had no idea what was going on with their mom or what was going to happen (because, after all, I still don't even know that about my mom, and I was 11. They're 2 and 4). Well, Heidi lost her battle to cancer just over a week ago. My heart aches for her best friend, her friends, and her family... and most of all, her kids. I hope I was able to provide them with some images to remember their mom by for many years to come.

In college I took two photography classes. One was a film class at my local community college while I was still in high school, and the other was an intro to digital course at my university. The latter was a 3 hour course two days a week and we only discussed each others work twice: once mid semester, and once for the final project. I do not feel like I learned a lot except for how to edit RAW images. In fact, I spent most of the time not in the class because we were always "editing" which I did at home. Anyways, three things stand out to me from that class. The first thing is shooting RAW, but I already said that. The second was the only assignment I remember: Portrait of a Stranger. The third was a visit from Steve McCurry, who I believe has one of the most (if not the most) recognized National Geographic photo of all time, Afghan Girl (you know what I'm talking about, right?). I'll get back to his visit in a minute.

The "portrait of a stranger" assignment was not walking around and snapping pictures of strangers on the street, and my teacher made that very clear. The assignment was to photograph a stranger, but get to know them. Being as I love to photograph people, I really took this assignment seriously. I went to downtown Lawrence, Kansas with my camera in hand on a beautiful spring afternoon and walked around for awhile. The great thing about Lawrence is that it is not difficult to find "interesting" looking people around. It's a rather "hippie" town filled with preppy frat/sorority college students and also homeless people that everyone treats with respect because the respect is given in return. There are usually people sitting and playing instruments and singing every couple of blocks and people sitting outside enjoying an international meal or coffee. You'll see businessmen and hipsters, goths and jocks. It's quite a site. Wow, as happy as I was to leave Lawrence, writing this makes me miss it! Well, finally I saw a man that caught my eye. He was crossing the street pushing his bike and we made eye contact. It was at that moment I took the opportunity to stop him. I don't exactly remember how the conversation started but I think it went along the lines of, "Hi my name is Cate, what's your name?" "Hi Cate, I'm Robb". "Hi Robb. So, I have a photography assignment where I have to take a picture of a stranger but we have to get to know them. Can I talk to you?" Lucky for me, he obliged. We went to a coffee shop where he drank his own coffee from a mason jar and then invited me to go to his house because his passion is wood carving and he said he made most of the things there. I didn't say no although I was nervous but that kept me on guard once I got there, just in case anything were to go in a way I didn't want it to go. Thankfully it didn't, and I got this shot:

Later that spring, while traveling in NYC, I got this one. Obviously the man saw me because he's looking right at me in the photograph, but he looks serious, right? Well, after I took the photo he smiled big and made some joke which I don't remember now... but it was a great conversation starter.

I am thankful we had that project because it taught me that I can still be myself when taking images of people and I can still smile, which is something I love to do.

Then today I came across this video from Steve McCurry, basically saying the same thing:

It was so nice this weekend when the wife of our country director here in Moldova asked for me to take their family pictures. I was so happy to do so, and it was nice being back in the swing of things! We were lucky to have wonderful weather and it ended up being great that we had to postpone the shoot because otherwise we would have been dealing with rain... (yes... rain. It was almost 60 degrees today and I'd say around 50 the day of the shoot!). Their kids are absolutely adorable and like night and day in personalities. The oldest is talkative, social, and so passionate about animal poaching and animals in general. The littlest one (who was born just before our arrival in Moldova!) is cranky and apparently doesn't warm up well to others, but I was told we were taking the photos during her nap time. Regardless, it was great being back in the swing of things and I got some wonderful "tastes of home" including natural peanut butter, brown sugar, and brownie mix in return!

Their wonderful nanny (who is a GRANDMA?!?!?) joined in on a couple of the photos.

My dad is a wonderful poker player. It has become a passion of his and so he's put a lot of work into learning it and becoming good at it. But me, well, I'm not so good with numbers. So when it comes to bets I just don't make them because I probably won't win.

Well, today my host dad bet me 1000 USD (in a joking manner, of course) that it was not going to be dark at 4pm like my host mom and I claimed. Well, it's 4:15 and it's not dark yet. The sun is setting, but it's not dark. He wins, and this is why I don't bet.

On a side note, my host brother is home from Russia. Last year he came home for the summer, left, and didn't come back until the next summer, but this time he's home again and I'm kind of excited about it. It's nice to have someone else in the house even if we don't see each other much.

This message pretty much speaks for itself... and warms my heart.

Hi Cate!

My name is Lucia. I'm from Moldova. I moved to US 7 years ago.

I came across your pictures on the Peace Corp website, after having a discussion with my boyfriend about you guys, volunteers, that go to countries like Moldova and teach english, and how much respect you get, especially from locals--i also had the pleasure and honor to meet two teachers during my high school years, but i do not want to elaborate my story here. I just want to express my thanks for what you do: you change the lives of the children you teach, and everyone else's you come across during your assignment. I absolutely loved your pictures and the descriptions. You have a true talent, because you captured all the moments that i could relate to, or any moldovan… It made me cry(the funeral) and laugh(the misspelling on the ruin's wall) because you can find that in every village in Moldova… You made me realize how much i miss and cherish that. Thank you, Cate.

Btw, my birthday is on Sept. 9th also :)

Thank you, Lucia, for your note. It made my day. (And yay for virgos!!!!!)

I found this amazing recipe for Mac n' Cheese and decided to try it... I mean, how hard can it be? I'm only joking because I seem to mess up everything I try to cook but that is because I always try to add my own ingredients. Oops. Even though I'm lactose intolerant it, I seem to not have problems while in Moldova unless I'm eating something imported from the States... so I can only assume it's due to the preservatives (ha read this if you haven't already about my mix up with this word!).

Well, guess what? This recipe is amazing!! I love it! And I even added some chili pepper and used mustard instead of mustard powder (couldn't find any). YUMMM YUMMM YUMMY!

As of right now I don't have any stomach problems... but I've only had a couple of bites. Back to eating!!!

It's Thanksgiving at the Peace Corps Headquarters today and I am so excited about it... especially because I felt so lonely on Thursday being away from friends and family. This will be fun... we just finished 2-hand touch football and the North won! Sometimes it is nice to be around everyone.

Today I am thankful for being able to Skype with my best friend, Linda (even if this skyping happened on Sunday).

This photo really marks the time difference. She was having a glass of wine while I was drinking my morning coffee!

My host dad is pretty bad-ass. We really struggled in the beginning of me living here, but now we get along... most of the time (even if we butt heads sometimes). Something I really admire about him is that he is, in my opinion, the most respected teacher of the entire school (even more respected than the principal). He has absolutely no problems with classroom management and students don't talk back to him. Ever. Students may not always do their homework themselves, but they sure do copy it so they do not arrive at the lesson without their homework because he is not afraid to give them a low grade. They are really afraid of him (in a respectful sort of way) and I highly respect that about him. But I often wonder what my opinion would be of him if I wasn't living here, although I don't even need to think about it because I am happy the way it is. So today I decided to take advantage of the fact that he his not only the most respected (and feared) teaching in the school, but he is also my host dad and teaches next to me. I am covering the classes of my partner teacher because she is really sick and the last lesson of the day was with 11th grade- following 3rd grade- each of which I said I never want to teach again... just my luck. The 3rd grade behaved for the most part, except for a couple of students (girls??!!) who I had stay after so I could speak with them about doing their classwork when I ask them to and listening to me and not getting up out of their seats. As I was doing this two 11th grade boys walked in and when I asked them to leave, they talked back to me and they wouldn't leave. Then they started playing music. They were absolutely terrible and it was not helping matters when I was trying to teach the girls about respect. Finally I sent the girls out and then went to my host dad, who told me to send the boys to him. When I told them that, they wouldn't go. At all. He heard my frustration with them and came out into the hall to scold them. Then as he was walking away he said, "if they act up in class, know that I'll be right here." Needless to say, the lesson (although it was only the 2 boys and 3 girls who speak English very well) went much smoother than usual and the boys behaved... for the most part. Maybe I should start threatening them with the wrath of my host dad more often. It seems to work like magic.

Let's start with the bad news. I think I have carpal tunnel (keep in mind I always think I have lots of problems so we'll find out for sure later) and yesterday I got bit by a little dog when I was trying to give him a treat. It isn't a bad bite... my pinkie finger is just scratched up a bit (on the same arm/hand as the one that is giving me trouble). Wednesday or Thursday I think I'll be going to the doctor to get it all checked out...

But the good news. It's Monday and I don't have the first 2 lessons or the last one. I love having my lessons back-to-back because it makes the day go faster and it keeps moving.

And... and... and...!

It's SUNNY!! I think I'm going to put up Christmas decorations today as I listen to Christmas music.

Today I did a one-eye wink at a little girl (probably 3 or 4 years old) as she was walking past me on the street. Then she turned around and attempted her own one-eye wink, which was a double-eye wink. Adorable.

Let me just start things off right by saying today was a FABULOUS day.

I woke up to clear skies and sunshine (well, almost. The sun was still coming out when I woke up). When I left for school I noticed that Jack Frost had made an appearance, covering everything... which sparkled in the sun.

Then I arrived at school early to help begin the celebration of our Director's birthday. The kids brought her flowers, sang her songs, and made her cry. It was beautiful. And the highlight- classes were cut short so we could have a masa (party) after classes with the teachers, which included all kinds of food (and of course alcohol... what's a Moldovan party without that?).

After the masa I went home and relaxed for a couple of hours before I headed back to school for the "Ball Bobocilor" which was awesome and so well done. The 10th grade put together dances and skits to short clips from songs. It was hilarious, and I loved the inclusion of "Pretty Woman" and "Sandman". They even pulled me up on stage to dance with them... which I failed miserably at because 1. I have no rhythm and 2. I can't dance and 3. I need a lot of practice to get the steps right, no matter how easy they may seem. This monkey sees and can't do.

When I left the performance it was dark outside and the sky was full of stars, and the air was nice and crisp. It warmed up a bit today so it really wasn't that cold (although it was still cold... trust me). I joked (in seriousness) with the boys saying "no smoking" while the joked (in non seriousness) that they weren't smoking. Minor detail. Then they tried to convince me to stay for the disco, which, if you paid attention to what I said earlier, that's not really my thing. So I started to head home and they said I need to wait to have a couple of the boys walk me home since it's dark. I insisted I was fine but they wouldn't have it. They found me a ride with one of the 2 cars that were there, which was with someone I didn't know but one of the friends of the kids or brothers or something. As he started to drive off the boys told him to drive slowly and carefully.

While the kids may drive me nuts during lessons, I love them outside of school. They're really great kids and very protective of me and appreciative... as long as I'm not teaching them.

Today I'm thankful because I got to come home 2 hours early.

Today I heard about a cat fight turned brutal. It reminds me of the videos that were shown on the news of girls beating each other up and then posting it online, although this time no one filmed it. You know why? It involves 3rd graders. Word on the street is that one of the girls pushed another one down in the street and started throwing rocks at her and kicking her and hitting her with sticks. The girl that was attacked came to school today all scratched up, and the attacker didn't show up. Apparently when the victim went to the mother of the attacker the mother didn't care. UGH it's just so sad. In all honesty, while I don't think what the attacker did was right by any means, I do hope she is ok because I can only assume she learned this from home (having a father who I have never seen sober, and a mother who drinks, too) and I'm sure the mother was embarrassed and didn't know what to say to the little girl that was hurt... and I'm afraid the attacker was then beat by her parents. Again, all of this is word on the street and my assumptions, but I also don't doubt that it happened. :(

My students really know how to test my patience... sometimes I just really can't handle it. As of right now I'm counting down the days until Christmas break: 37 days, 8 hours, and 44 minutes. Ugh.

I woke up this morning feeling like I've been hit with a train. I don't feel sick, just extremely exhausted. My host mom came in just shortly after my alarm went off to make sure I was awake (I wasn't really) in case I had the first lesson (I don't). I took that as a sign to get up anyways since I do have the second lesson. So, I got up, got dressed, and then went for breakfast. She came in and this is how the conversation went:

Host mom: Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.

Me: Good morning.

HM: Did you see it snowed a little bit last night?

Me: Where... outside?

HM: No, in the house.

Me: DOH. Good morning.

I think I need to go back to bed.

I now have Internet again! It's not DSL (still installing...??!!) and it's not much... but it's better than nothing. So hopefully I'll get some blog posts going again tomorrow. I was asked to photograph the Marine's Ball on Saturday night and of course I was happy to oblige... and I'd love to share the photographs but I need to ask permission first. It was a lot of fun and I loved seeing everyone all dressed up! It's always hard photographing an event where I know a lot of the people, though, because I miss out on the fun- the socializing, the eating in groups (instead of at a table by myself), and the dancing. But it was still a lot of fun and I met some new people!

It's 11:11 on 11/11/11. Happy day! Lucky day!

... but it did start snowing. Not cool

My neighbor, Marin, helped me bake chocolate chip peanut butter M&M cookies tonight.

We burnt the last batch :( But the others are good!

AHH the trees are so beautiful right now behind our school! Not bad for iPod photos, eh?

My dad sent me a mask for Halloween and it scared the living daylights out of my host mom when she was cleaning up my room a bit and turned around and there it was... laying on my bed. So she thought it would be absolutely hilarious to dress up in it and go scare my host dad. This is how it played out:

(Unfortunately I just realized the video didn't post. And it's going to take 144 minutes to load. Coming this weekend...)

Tonight at dinner I learned that just as every child remembers those one or two times they were spanked/slapped/severely punished by their parents, the parents remember it, too (unless, of course, it was a repeated occurrence. Then that’s a different story).

I got 3rd place and an honorable mention in the River to Well photography contest! Check out their website to see the amazing things they are doing to wells in Africa!

Also, if you happen to be in Lawrence, KS, Denver, CO, or Houston, TX... check out my photos and the photos by other talented photographers!

A couple of nights ago my host parents were in the best mood ever. They were joking and laughing with each other about I’m not exactly sure what. At one point they started discussing what was going to happen with each other when they die. My host dad assumes he will be the first one to die since he is older and my host mom has ridiculous genes in her family and no one ever seems to die before 100. So my host dad said he absolutely does not want my host mom to do anything other than bury him because it is against his religion and it would be disrespectful. But she said how can she not have a praznic… that is what this culture does and it just has to happen. So then he asked her how can she have a praznic and have the priest come to her service if she has never been to a church service before. It was interesting to hear them battle about this because most people in Moldova are Orthodox Christians and everyone does everything the same way. But my host parents are one of the two exceptions: my host dad being a Jehovah’s Witness and my host mom being rather agnostic and not really caring. This seemed to be one of the first times they had really ever discussed this, which is fascinating to me because (at least where I’m from) people write a will sometime around my age and adjust it as events occur in life, such as marriage(s) and kid(s).

This is the first year that the second grade is learning English. Every day they surprise me in just how much they remember and they are quickly becoming one of my favorite classes. They are almost all really hard workers and they are anxious to learn and it’s so cute to hear them in the hallways asking each other, “What is your name?” “How old are you?” “Where are you from?” etc. We’ve taught them a song with different responses to how are you besides the mechanical iamfinethankyouandyou?. They are so stinking cute and I love working with them. Most of the time. You see, today I worked with them alone because my partner was helping a worker install lights and chandeliers in our classroom (yes, that is correct, we didn’t have light until now… oh the things we take for granted back home!). While I swore to never again teach the 2nd grade alone last year, I was referring to the 2nd grade that is now the 3rd grade… and, like I said, this group of kids is great. But when I entered their room (ours was busy because of the installing of the lights), all hell broke loose! They kids were terrible, they wouldn’t listen to me, they were hitting each other, they were talking out of turn, absolutely chaos. I finally got their attention by beginning to sing the “hello, how are you song” and then having them stand up and do some arm exercises before sitting down. As soon as their little behinds hit their chairs, though, they started hitting each other with rulers, pulling on their desk mate’s ears… it was seriously just like a scene out of a movie. Finally I was able to grab their attention again so I asked them just what it is exactly that makes them behave when my partner and I are teaching, but as soon as she disappears, they misbehave. I expected them to look down at their desks in shame and say they didn’t know… which is a common reaction when you know you’ve done something wrong, right? Well, that is not what happened. Instead a few hands shot straight up into the air. And you know what they said (I love the honesty of little kids)? They said: Mrs. Luminita is older than you. She is our teacher, not you. Oh boy. I have no idea how this is going to be fixed! But I think I have officially decided teaching is not in my future. I thought I had decent classroom management but I have now realized it is not me that is in control of the classrooms… it’s my partner teachers. Today I realized just how thankful I am for them and that they really are good teachers and the students of Varatic are lucky to have them. Now, even though the 2nd grade was terrible during the actual lesson, one particular student was awesome outside of the lesson. She is my neighbor and comes over every day to sit and talk to me at home (my host mom now calls her and her friend who is not in school yet my “army”). Anyways, we finally got to walk to school together. I was quizzing her on the questions we have learned so far in class, the letters, and the school vocabulary. When I asked her to translate, “invatator sau profesor” she responded not with, “teacher” but instead, “Cate”. They are learning great things! J On another rough note, though, I had someone in the 6th form drawing swastikas and people hanging and knives and he was writing “canibol” (it’s a cognate… you figure it out). Every time I walked by him I saw he was drawing but didn’t observe what it was until my partner got sick of him drawing and took it away but even she didn’t see it at that time. When I saw what it was, my jaw hit the floor and I’m pretty sure my eyes about popped out of their sockets. I then told her, she scolded the boy and I sure hope made him feel terrible, and then she gave them a history lesson on what happened during WWII to innocent people that were taken as prisoners and forced to work whether they were in the Nazi concentration camps or taken from their homes and placed in Siberia. What happened in Siberia I really don’t know because as far as I know, I was not taught that part of the war in history class (although I, regrettably, did not pay much attention so I may have doodled my way through it). From what she said, though, I have a feeling it was much like it was in the Nazi concentration camps. A lot of the kids didn’t realize that is what happened and that they have relatives or even great grandparents that were there… and once they realized that and it became more real, they quickly stopped talking. I have a feeling that picture will never be drawn again. And, finally, the 8th grade. They were wonderful today. Yes, you read that correctly. They were wonderful! I don’t think I actually wrote about this on my blog, but two weeks ago I left the room crying because they were SO disrespectful to me and I was supposed to be teaching them alone. Ever since then my partner has been sitting in on the classes just in case they get out of control but they have been pretty good since then. Today, however, they were absolutely fabulous. The previous couple of lessons have been really dry and boring and straight out of the book and involving lots of writing because I was tired of their BS and I wanted to show them what boring classes can-and will- look like if they keep up their nonsense. Well, I guess it worked because today I had very active (but controlled) activities to prepare them for the test they will have for the next lesson. Now, it may have helped that there were only about half of the students, but regardless, they were attentive, active, and participating. I have a feeling (knock on wood) that things are finally going to turn around with them.

I still probably won't have Internet at home for another month. Eff.

Check out this AWESOME project one of the PCV's in Moldova has started with women in her village!! They take the scarves that all of the women wear on their heads and turn them into skirts, bags, and soon-to-be-released ties! I'm not sure how exporting works to the States yet, but I'm sure it will be posted on the Facebook group soon!

Today I didn’t have the second lesson so I went downstairs to sit with the student on duty (there is a “student on duty” every day who gets excused from all of their classes to take the daily attendance, run errands for the teachers/Director, and ring the bell every hour announcing the beginning and end of each lesson). One little girl who is in my 4th grade class came up to me and said she was going to Drochia, so I asked her what she was going to do there and she responded, “school”. This confused me a bit since she attends our school, so I asked what she meant. She then said her mother was going back to Moscow and so her, her brother in the 2nd grade, and her sister in the 8th grade are moving to Drochia and they will never return to Varatic. This immediately made my heart melt because she is such a capable little girl and she is always smiling and has such a big heart. However, one of my students pointed out that this will be much better for the kids. You see, they are basically being raised by their sister in the 8th grade, and there is another toddler at home. The word on the street is that the father ran off to Moscow when the mother was pregnant with the youngest and he now has another child there, and the mother also goes there to work most of the time, leaving the children alone in Moldova, only to be checked on every so often by their relatives that live in the village. Now (supposedly) the mother is an alcoholic and is also 7 months pregnant again and has been home for a short while but is off to Moscow today, which is why the children were taken by someone from the Mayor’s office (local or state, I’m not sure) to Drochia to be put in an orphanage. Every teacher was sad about this and blaming the mother, but the student is right- the kids will be better off there. They will have food to eat (instead of having to steal from the neighbors because they don’t have any) and they will be clean and have clean clothes. And I spoke with a volunteer that lives there and he said the facility is nice and the children will really be well taken care of, and there is a very good school there. My heart still goes out for those kids (even if the 2nd grade boy was very rei – bad – and even whipped his you-know-what out during lessons… but he really doesn’t know any different because he doesn’t have anyone to teach him), and I just want to take them home with me. Unfortunately I can’t do that (although Moldova did just open up adoptions to the USA), so the best thing I could do was tell the 4th grader to never forget these words (thank you, The Help): You are beautiful. You are kind. You are talented. And study English!! … and then I gave them an Automobiles magazine and a Cowboys and Indians magazine to put in their small backpacks which was all they were taking with them to the orphanage. I am so thankful for my family and that I volunteered to be part of a team that will put on camps at the orphanages in Moldova.