letter39

Dear Family and Friends,

Yesterday, I walked into one of my sixth grade classes and I was mobbed by a group of giddy girls. I struggled against the sheer force of them, breathing heavily, as I tossed my backpack across the room and grimaced like a star facing her adoring masses. �Wh-what is it?!� I managed through gritted teeth as Bulgarian was fired at me from every direction faster than I could say (with a puzzled expression), �KAKVO?!� (�What?!�) �Missss! Missss!� Sonya Lacerova shrieked as Sonya Vesanova held my arms behind my back. Teodora guarded my whimpering feet with her fists, while Julia had me in a headlock and Carolina head-butted me in the stomach. �Whattttt! Whattttt!� I challenged Sonya as the wind was knocked out of me and thick blood began to spurt from my nostrils. �Iskate li hodie do Jamiyata? Iskate li? ISKATE LI?!!?� (�Do you want to go to the Mosque? Do you want to? DO YOU WANT TO?!!?�) I coughed and spluttered, �SEGA?! SEEEEGA?! NE!� (�NOW? NOOOW? NOWAY!�) For, after all, it was time to start class. �No!� she rebutted in Bulgarian. �Maybe today, maybe tomorrow, maybe Tuesday . . .� �Well,� I said with a grin that could melt Bulgarian cheese. �I can�t today because I have English Club. How about tomorrow?!� And, so, my fate was sealed, I was to take a little field trip with a group of girls from my 6V class the following day.

Before I go any further, let me give you a little info about my English Club. It is something in which I just recently started up as one of my secondary projects and the attendance ranges from about 6-8 students (usually girls) each Wednesday. I was brave enough to have this little endeavor in my apartment, which is small, so I don�t think it could hold any more students. But, this gives me the opportunity to hang out with some of my best students (the annoying ones have better things to do) outside of class. We play games, we attempt to break free from human knots, we sing and dance, we eat Bulgarian and American foods galore, we make stuff, etc. A lot of the time, I let the students dictate the events of the club, so we had to make a little trip to the Britney Spears website yesterday as shrieks and gasps echoed throughout my apartment and, quite possibly, throughout Samokov. Through this, I realize that I like hanging out with 6th graders and they teach me more Bulgarian and more about Bulgaria than anyone. All through my teacher preparation, I heard over and over, �Don�t be friends with your students!� But, now, I wonder, �Why not? What�s so wrong with making them feel special by being their friend as well as their teacher?� Now, I don�t see what IS so wrong with being a FRIEND. At least in Bulgaria, where, it seems, every teaching rule I was ever taught in America is bound (BEGGING, even) to be broken. After all, these days, some of my best friends are 6th graders! And, so, today after school, I was off to the Samokov Jamia . . . Mosque, that is!

I waited patiently for my students as the last bell sounded and, as soon as the saw me, they rushed at my like hungry vultures. �Go we Jamia!� they reminded me enthusiastically linking their arms through mine, as if I would have forgotten where this outing would lead us. Keep in mind that this particular class knows very little English and struggles the most English-wise, but this is because I �team teach� 6V with my Bulgarian counterpart and, for some reason, she INSISTS on pretty much teaching them English in Bulgarian. It drives me crazy, but what can you do?! So, anyway, I strolled along with a group of six eager, chatting, energetic 6th grade girls to a Mosque, which, though I�d admired from a distance, I had never set foot in.

We entered the Mosque, a beautiful ancient structure, and turned the place upside down in an instant. Do you realize just how much 6th grade girls love to SCREAM? Mom, did I ever scream like a wild banshee when I was a 6th grader?! I couldn�t have! If I did, please, PLEASE don�t remind me! We entered the mosque in one giggling, chattering, screaming, blushing, vivacious MESS! The Samokov Mosque has this tall tower, in which you can climb to the top of and see great views of the entire town. We all ducked under a low door and then began to basically �mountain climb� our way to the top. We hoisted ourselves through the narrow, dark passage of crumbling rock steps, screaming, giggling, chatting, and blushing all the while. We were like a line of pre-adolescent ducks as we quacked our way to the top and I was certain that, at any moment, I would lose my grip or footing and tumble onto the line of girls behind me. Finally, we reached the top of the tower without any casualties and, an otherwise serene moment was turned into total chaos. The girls yelled at boys below, they read carvings in the tower wall, they called to friends, they screamed, they blushed, they giggled. �Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your long hair!� we waited for our princes to declare as the wind whipped around us and Samokov opened up before us.

When we returned to the bottom of the tower once again, basically having scooted our way down as dust filled our nostrils and our eyes, I felt as if I would collapse in my journey to the door of the Mosque. My legs wobbled like cherry Jell-O from the climb and, I wobbled my way out of the Mosque, where two older boys met us, whom the girls had been screaming at. The girls decided that a trip to the Samokov Museum was in store for me next, and we wobbled down the street, Teodora balancing the basketball that she never leaves home without, the Sonyas screaming in my hear all at once, Julia blushing fervently, the other two girls chatting a mile a minute, and the two boys we had met at the Mosque following behind with drool dripping from their gaping mouths. Obviously, they had a crush on someone in our parade! We went to the Museum and pored over the history of Samokov, a nice addition to a lovely afternoon. A little bit of culture was put under my belt and I enjoyed hanging out with the girls. After all, as I said before, these days, some of my best friends are 6th graders . . . which doesn�t bother me a bit! :-)

Love Always,

Chantel