9.9.08

FTJ: 3-9-08

Today was my first day of school! It was very good. First, Anita and I walked to the bus. I memorized the route for the rest of the year. You have to pay forty-three cents, but Anita told me that AFS is going to reimburse me the money. The bus is more like those in the US, uncomfortable. There isn't enough space for my knees.

When we arrived at school, the children had lined up and Anita put me in the line for 4B. Here, they have courses from one to six, with A and B for all. There is 4th A and 4th B, with twenty-five students in both. I thing there are between 150 and 250 students in all the school. Anita introduced me to my classmates, saying that I am from the US, and that I am quiet. The kids were very nice. I met Ricardo, a large guy but not as large as me, Edwin, the guy who sits in the seat in front of me, Alex, a skinny and interesting guy with glasses, and others. (NOTE: My dad once told me this story that he never realized just how big he is in comparison to the people in Latin America (My dad lived in Mexico and Uruguay) until he was on a bus one day, and in walked this ginormous guy, who was way bigger than everyone else on the bus, and he was an inch shorter than my dad. That's what it was like for me meeting Ricardo, except I'm easily five inches taller than him. On an unrelated note, it's interesting being in a place where "Renan" is pronounced fine, but people have a problem with "Jacob." People who go to Spruce Creek probably know what I'm talking about.)

The first class on Wednesday is English The teacher is a woman who seems to me a lot like Mrs. Adair, from middle school. It's intersting. She's nice, but she treats me as if I were five. She repeated every word to me when she told us, first in really slow Spanish, then in really slow English. Here, all the students of the same course have the same schedule. The teachers move from room to room, except when we have art, in which case we go to the workshop. The second class is "composición plástico," which I really don't know how to translate into English. I mean, literally, it's "plastic composition," but that doesn't really explain it. I don't remember what happened in that class. After composición plástico is artistic drawing for five classes, 200 miunutes. (NOTE: Seriously, there's like, 30 different types of drawing here.) But the teacher didn't arrive, and so we talked outside of the room, on the stairs or on the first floor. Out room is on the second floor. The school isn't very strict. No one came to tell us that we had to be more quiet, or to go back to our room. Nothing.

At 9:55, there is a break for twenty-five minutes. During the break, there is a small shop that sells small foods, drinks, and cookies. I bought some "galletas de amor" which are little square wafers. There wasn't a line, only a very large group of students, all shouting for one thing or another. Ricardo bought the cookies for me, because I didn't know how to do it by myself.

After the break, someone found the teacher and we went to a workshop. The teacher is Señor Lopez, a man with glasses. He said some things, and then told us to draw something, the subject didn't matter. I began to draw a face, but it was terrible, so I changed to my hands. I drew the best of my life. It surprised me a lot.

I can understand a lot of what the teachers and the other kids say. It's going to be a very good year.

291 more days.

4 comments:

blackgirlart said...

Oh Jacob this is wonderful to hear! My son is drawing again!! Excellent! Please give my regards to Sr. Lopez!

Can you scan and post some drawings???

Did you see my drawings of Kenya on Picasa?

We love and miss you SO much!

yr mommy

silvia said...

Hey jacob, It's really cool to hear about your day to day life in Ecuador. I'm impressed that you plan on writing every day. I have a journal too, but I write about once every month...

silvia said...

I just noticed the date of the post I'm commenting on. Scratch my last comment.

Tom said...

They said you were quiet? O.o