Snowdrop Developments

News from my backyard on today, April 14, 2011

April 7

Dirty snow. Gray sky.

Visible ground on the path to our woodshed...

A bulb peeking out!

Dirt! Bulbs! Green! Spring!

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
~ Emily Dickinson

Come on over to my neighborhood

Wish you could stop by and see how things have been? You can do so -- virtually! The University of Tartu has a new online tour in English and Estonian. You can wander around town and see the streets as we do with just a simple click.

University of Tartu Virtual Tour

To be American in Kuressaare

From 2011-04-01 Kuressaare Jennifer

From 2011-04-01 Kuressaare Jennifer

Estonia is a small country. Sometimes I feel as if I live within its confines and am comfortable with the tension of small, and sometimes I feel as if Estonia is a much bigger place with separate countries embedded within its borders.

Last week I mentioned that I was in one of those far-flung countries within this country when I visited Narva. This week, I visited another corner of Estonia with its own distinct identity and flavor, the largest Estonian island of Saaremaa. The distance from Tartu is no small matter. In a country of 17,462 square miles, you wouldn't think that you could spend much time traveling. Alas! The excruciating bus ride from Tartu (central-south part of the country) to the capital of the island, Kuressaare, takes over six hours of bumpy travel, complete with stops to pick up more passengers and a ferry ride from the mainland. You feel the distance in a way that you would not feel such a distance when jumping into your car in the American West, for example. It's a journey. Above are pictures of the ferry ride to Saaremaa. After such a hard winter, there is still plenty of ice on the Baltic Sea, which, as a motion-sensitive passenger, I considered fortuitous as the ferry ride was much smoother than usual. We snapped these pictures at nearly 8:00 p.m. -- the light and ice were simply gorgeous. And, here's the small country part, when on the ferry we sat down next to the two representatives from the U.S. Embassy who would be joining us the next day in Kuressaare!

This was my second trip to Kuressaare to work with the American Corner in the public library. There are four American Corners in Estonia (Narva, Kuressaare, Viljandi, and Tartu), and they have a collection of books, periodicals, and media provided by the US Embassy to provide wider access to resources in places outside of the Capital. In addition, the American Corners host exhibitions and visitors who might meet with local groups or students on various topics. I was one such visitor.

I looked forward to visiting Kuressaare for a lot of reasons. It is a beautiful place, and, because it is a bit more remote than other places in Estonia, I have not had a chance to explore as much as I would like. The town also hosts some of the nicest spa hotels in Estonia, and I booked a room at the Georg Ots Spa, knowing that the restaurant had a really good chef (amazing chocolate cake) and affordable massages. The chance to get out of town and meet with a different audience was also appealing. My work in Kuressaare was twofold: primarily, I was to work together with a small group of local English teachers on the topic of teaching reading; secondarily, I offered to speak to the general public in conjunction with a video presentation about my experiences at U.S. National Parks.

When putting together my materials, I anticipated the visit and felt satisfied about preparing materials that would be useful, thought-provoking, and fun. I do have experience working in Estonia and am quite sensitive about issues such as professionalism and culture ethnocentrism, and I keep these in the back of my mind when stepping out into the world with the label of "American" slapped upon me. I am very aware that my very nationality can make it difficult for others to listen to me fairly. I am also aware of the powerful effects of worldwide mass media and pop culture and how those imbue impressions of me. As an long-term resident outside of the United States, I know I must be humble and sensitive. My ulterior motive as a de facto representative of my country is to give an alternative impression. I acknowledge that stereotypes are usually founded on some shared cultural traits, but I also cannot help but have a visceral reaction to the slovenly, uneducated, glib American that is expected.

As a teacher, I am always hungry for good conversation about how teaching/learning/language works. As a global citizen, I am always hungry for honest cultural exchange. In my preparation, I was eager to have conversations about culture, nature, teaching, and language.

My expectations for the visit were met. A nice group of people came and reacted pleasantly to a slide show and conversation about Yellowstone National Park. A couple of dedicated teachers showed up on a rather gray Friday afternoon to talk about teaching. I had a good look around town. I ate the chocolate cake I remembered at Georg Ots. I had a nice morning run around the fog-filled city complete with sounds of seagulls. I was even in the local paper. Saarte Hääl (link to the story in Estonian here).

On my way to the bus station yesterday afternoon, I stopped at a kiosk to see how the newspaper looked and picked up a couple of copies. Even with my weak Estonian skills, I understood most of the article and was pleased. The picture didn't make me look much weirder than I really am, and I thought it would be a nice souvenir from the visit.

Today, I received the online link from the reporter who interviewed me and had a chance to run the story through Google Translate for an even more discombobulated version of the visit. I noted that there were comments attached, and so I vainly ran these through Google Translate as well. The gist is something as follows: 1) Why is an American here to teach us when American schools are substandard with bullying. Estonia is better and smarter, and she should be here to learn from us; 2) American high school is like our 7th grade; 3) Wonderful picture--the body language says it all (I am pictured together with the Assistant Public Affairs Officer from the Embassy and we are both standing awkwardly with our hands held in front of us).

There is not a dearth of comments and clearly these folks have their own bones to pick. However, they did take the time to sign in and leave a comment. In my experience, the feelings shared are not far from the critical view I perceive in daily life. (On a related side note, just last week, a group of English teachers informed me about the inferiority of the American accent and the unfortunate state of Estonian English as a pidginized half-British half-American variety. Sheesh! What happened to accepting multiple varieties? global English? European English? Just plain comprehensibility?)

As a sensitive, well-intentioned American living here, I cannot help but feel disappointed at the consistent undercurrent. There is so much baggage that does not necessarily come with other national identities. The question is not only about my place as an English teaching professional (who happens to be American) but it is also a broader question about being an American woman (who happens to be abroad) struggling to find an agreeable sense of identity and place.

Chips and salsa

As humans, I suppose we are drawn to experiment and test boundaries. That feature is exactly what makes experiential learning such a powerful educational tool, right? Learning something first-hand through trial and error leaves a strong impression, and, although you may find yourself retesting some of those boundaries now and then, you do usually remember not to purposefully set your hand near the hot clothes iron or not to click mercilessly on an object on your computer screen when it does not react as you think it ought. (Doubtless, we all can remember times when we've temporarily "forgotten" the consequences for these actions by accident, distraction, or distress). In addition to learning from experience, I imagine it is also healthy to retest what we know as adults to retain a healthy amount of wonder (or skepticism?) and to resist becoming stagnant know-it-all schoolmarms. When living in a new environment, I catch myself doing things that I otherwise might not. In fact, often my past experiences should lead me to better conclusions and decisions.

Case in point. I just finished licking my fingers after cleaning the crumbs out of the bottom of a bag of Santa Maria Chili-flavored tortilla chips. I feel about as disgusting as I might after cleaning out an off-brand bag of cheese puffs. Santa Maria is a Finnish Tex-Mex brand sold here in Estonia. Probably I should know better from the start as Finland is about as far from Texas or Mexico as one can get, and the palate of the local target consumer market here has no proclivity towards the piquant. (A short diversion--because it is too good of a story not to share: A well-meaning neighbor recently gave me some feedback on some pumpkin bread I made for her family. She inquired about the "essence" or spices used(nutmeg, cinnamon, allspice) and mentioned that her children thought their mouths were on fire. The adults managed to choke it down but thought that I had messed up the recipe!)

As someone who considers chips and salsa as a food group unto itself, I sometimes waver over to the "exotic foods" isle of the supermarket just to see if anything new has appeared. Although the shelf has become fuller of these Santa Maria products over the years, there generally is not too much of interest. Sometimes though, I convince myself and those chips and salsa may have improved. Sometimes, I buy them. Almost always, I bring them home and gobble too many of them up, and I am left with an artificial taste in my mouth and an unsatisfied craving. I make yet another mental note to myself about Finnish Tex-Mex products, only to expire when I eventually I waver over to that particular isle and decide to retest the boundary.