New Class

Today I started a new class with new classmates and new teachers. Wow, that was a short semester!

I went to school half by subte and half walking. I like taking the subte to Avenida de Mayo station and then walking up Avenida de Mayo, past the Congress and to my new favorite place to eat lunch, Punta Cuore. On days when I have tango lessons, like tomorrow, I'll do the same thing, except stop off at Marcelo's first which is still in the same direction.

Avenida de Mayo seems to have some very old buildings and they don't seem to be in the best condition. I like walking on this street because it's not super busy, and the architecture is interesting. I'll probably get bored with this route in a few days and change, but for now it works. It doesn't take as long as if I walked the whole way, and it's not as hot and crowded as if I took the subte the whole way.

I went to school early because I wanted to find out the results of my exam. Hey, I passed! I got an 83 on the written part, and 96 on the oral exam for a total score of 90! Anna scored higher, but I won't post her score because it might be confidential (she was only a few points higher than me - she did better on the written part). Cynthia and Jonathan did not do that well, and Mike didn't take the exam because he was not taking the class for credit. I wasn't the worst student after all (this was not a competition though).

So, they told me to come back at 1:00 and that I would be in level 6 today, but tomorrow we'd start a level 7 and see how many students were in the class.

I went and had lunch at Punta Cuore, but my friendly regular waiter was not there. Still it was nice. I was not terribly hungry and didn't finish all of my lunch. I went back to school and went into my temporary classroom for today. There was one student from Brazil, but I forget her name. She was interesting, she is a photographer, and I suspected she might be the one who is doing the photo blog I like - Buenos Aires Daily - but I didn't get a chance to ask her. Wouldn't that be funny if it is her?

There were a few other people in the class, but the only other one I got to meet was a woman from Portland who is also a Spanish teacher! Her name is Nancy.

Marcela was the teacher and she had us introduce ourselves. But then Diego came in and told those of us in level 7 that we had a classroom and a teacher. Cynthia, Nancy and I got up and followed him into a small little room. Our new teacher is Claudia. I've seen her around a lot at school.

Nancy is a few years older than me and just arrived on Friday. I remembered when I started my class, I had also arrived on Friday and started class on Monday. She's nice, and we sat together in the cafeteria. She is loud though. She reminded me of the people in cafes in San Francisco. She is with the same program I came with - GIC, which is basically a study abroad recruiting agency that makes it look like they are going to keep you busy the whole time you're here, but instead they're just charging you double and have some extra activities you can pay for, and those that are free are geared towards the under 20 crowd (like playing soccer with kids). Poor Nancy. She is staying in the "residence" with the twenty-somethings. I can't imagine.

The class was ok. Claudia is an interesting person. She is a lawyer and also has a degree in something I'm too lazy to look in my notebook for, but it has to do with observing people's everyday lives and analyzing it. It sounded interesting and I think will bring an interesting element to our class - and my blog.

She had us introduce ourselves with only our name and then we had to talk about how well we sleep and what kinds of dreams we have. Once we did that, we pretended we were psychoanalysts and we analyzed each others' dreams. It was fun, but I'm not sure how useful it is for us to pretend we are doctors. She said it would help us understand Argentine culture as Buenos Aires has the highest ratio of psychoanalysts per capita in the world. I'm running into the same problem with her as I did with the other teachers - when I try to talk, I feel like I'm cutting her off, and she doesn't budge. I could see if she were explaining a grammatical point and I was trying to interrupt and take over explaining it. But here we are having 'conversation' and I am trying to get some words in edgewise, but I am struggling with the teacher for the floor! To me it signals a fundamental difference of opinion in what the role of the teacher in a language class should be, especially during conversation practice. I know she can speak Spanish, and I definitely can listen, but I am here to improve my speaking. How can I do that if the teacher is always talking? Maybe I need to be more aggressive?

After our break Claudia answered some of Nancy's questions and then brought in a map of Buenos Aires. We talked a little about the map and then she talked about the history of Buenos Aires. She went overtime and finished by saying that the next class she wanted us to speak more and her to speak less --- HELLO?!!! We have to prepare something on one of the neighborhoods of Buenos Aires. This is fine, but how often in real life interactions are we going to be speaking from prepared speeches, and how much are we going to be talking about neighborhoods? I'd rather that she (and the other teachers) notice when we are trying to speak and give up the floor to us so that we can speak in situations that are a little more natural. Or maybe better, create situations and opportunities for us to speak with one another while she butts out! Oh well, it looks like I'm going to continue to have something to complain about with these classes. Teacher-centeredness is definitely the pedagogy here - I think they should read Freire (he is their neighbor after all).

After class I was feeling like taking my time going home. I called Larry but couldn't reach him. Maybe he was chained to the dentist's chair. I headed down Corrientes, one of the busier streets in the city that runs through the theater district. It reminds me of midtown Manhattan, Broadway and all that. I went to the cultural center I visited with Larry and bought a script for a play. The last time I was there I bought one called Budin Ingles (English Pudding). I read a lot of it while I was sick in bed and it's very cute. I like reading plays because it's mostly dialogue and the dialogue is written in fairly natural, modern speech. It seems like a good way to use reading to help me with my speaking, but who knows.

When I met Hernan on our first date, and he told me again that he was a playwrite (because I wasn't sure if he really said that, or if it was code for something else - they do call hustlers taxi boys here, so who knows), I told him I bought a play called Budin Ingles. He said, "ah, Mariana, she is my friend" - he knew the play and the playwrite. Small world.

It was fun being on Corrientes early. It gets crazy at rush hour, but this afternoon, it was not that bad. The bookstore at the cultural center is nice and there is a cafe there. There were people drinking coffee and chatting while I browsed. I also bought a book of Mafalda comics - again, because it's mostly dialogue and with relevant vocabulary.

I returned up Corrientes to this interesting little shop I had passed called El Gato Negro. It was a cafe but had all of these spices and teas in the window. I imagined having a nice exotic tea and some nice little desert. I went in and it was an old shop with wooden cabinet that smelled of coffee and spices. I sat down and looked at the menu and there were some teas that I didn't recognize and some deserts. I went for a basic tea with milk and a budin ingles - I figured since I was reading about it, I should try it, because I don't really know what it is. The waiter came back and told me they didn't have budin ingles, so I got this dry little thing with raspberry jam on it.

Apparently El Gato Negro draws the tourist crowd. A couple was sitting there with a Guide Book alternating between speaking French and Portuguese. Other people came in and sat down or just came in and looked around. I guess I had high expectations, but I ended up not liking the place. I bought a bottle of sesame oil for Hernan because he said he likes to put sesame seeds in his salad dressing, and I thought maybe he'd like to try sesame oil. It was one of the most expensive things I've ever bought here - 24 pesos - $8.00! I guess because it is imported. It just seemed to pricey! I don't think I will be returning to El Gato Negro.

And that was my day. I came home and took a nap, and just finished dinner. I've been trying to contact my family to say hello and also see how my father is doing, but they are unreachable. They haven't been at home and they don't answer their cell phones. Oh well, I guess everything is ok.

Today's picture is out of the window of the cultural center on Corrientes. All of the taxis reminded me of New York. Maybe when I go to New York and see all of the taxis I'll say, "it reminds me of Buenos Aires".