Thanksgivings

(Matt)

19-11-06

Sunday morning, 7:45 am. Outside, it’s peaceful. Not quite dawn, the dim light reveals the bare outlines of apartment buildings and the silhouettes of trees blanketed in snow. An occasional lamp shines in the windows of the otherwise dark clusters of buildings, but for the most part, the city is quiet and still. It feels as though I’m the only one awake.

Inside, I’m peaceful, too. Although I imbibed coffee last night at much too late an hour to get a full night’s sleep, I somehow feel rested and refreshed—a welcome state of mind that has been much desired in the past few weeks. Last night we had more students over than we have ever had before; Makinzie and I both invited our classes on the same evening, and consequently our living room was so packed that people were spilling out into the dining room and kitchen. And whereas on most other nights we have spoken in English to help the students in Makinzie’s intensive language classes, last night the students informed us that we were “outnumbered” and would have to speak in Russian only. These rules intimidated me at first. I don’t like laughter at my expense, and having twenty people hanging on my every word makes me hesitant. In the end, though, the circumstances inspired a sense of community and fraternity that put my previous thinking in sharp relief and made me realize certain imperfections in my thinking.

Let me explain. Remember that in the preceding weeks, I have been questioning seriously my exact role here in Russia. Not that I ever doubted our mission here in general, but in the midst of complaining students, a time-consuming job hunt, and the ongoing struggle to improve my Russian past the level of a five-year old, I wondered specifically, “what I am being taught through this process?” Then on Friday night, Makinzie and I went to a “Dyen Blagadareneye” (Thanksgiving Day) party hosted by the students at RACU. The entire program was in Russian, without a word of English spoken, and I left the party thinking about “hospitality” in Russia and the contrast between my experience and all of your own reports about the people you have encountered in foreign countries. Joe, Dan, Liam, Mema—you all came back from trips abroad talking about the warmth and friendliness of the people you met, and I have been desirous of finding the same attitude in the Russian people. But I have felt that we keep meeting with a shell of indifference and aloofness (actually, that I keep meeting with this shell, since Makinzie seems to be accepted instantly by everyone she meets.) Where are the happy joy times that are supposed to make me feel that what I’m doing is worthwhile?

Well, I think an obvious answer to my question is that I’m not here to bolster my own feelings of self-worth. I’m here to empathize with the very people that seem to be so guarded and impenetrable. At times this realization has knocked me in the head. For example, last week I asked my teacher, Nelly Alexandrovna, why Russians only and always wear black (and I mean “always” quite literally). Nelly gave me two reasons: first, she said that as recently as fifteen years ago many citizens were only able to take showers once a week, and that black clothing has always been the natural choice to disguise the evidence of life in the cold and grimy environs of the city. Her second reason was even more sobering: she explained that most Russians live with the memory of the days when to “stand out” from the crowd was to condemn oneself to prison, exile, or words; therefore the long black coat has become all but an agreed-upon symbol of conformity. Given the mindset of people for whom something as simple as clothing choice could have such serious consequences, doesn’t it make sense that in general one would be hesitant to trust, hesitant to accept others?

It’s been difficult for me to balance this knowledge of Russian history and psychology with the daily experience of being an “outsider” that leaves me feeling at times equally defensive, frustrated, and unfulfilled. However, I believe that I have allowed my few unpleasant experiences to tip the scales away from the kind of embracing, optimistic attitude that I see in Makinzie and in several of the RACU students with which we have become close friends. The imbalance was revealed to me last night during our “student night” when one of my students thanked me for making classes so interesting and fun. “I’m sorry”, she said, “that some of the other students are so mean and rude. I don’t know why they act this way.” The student went on to explain that she is currently taking 33 hours of coursework. That’s not a typo; she’s taking 11 college classes in one term! With such a workload, she certainly has good reason for being overstressed and ill-humored. Her compliment, given in such circumstances, felt all the more sincere. As I sat among the students last night and listened to their rapid and excited conversations with one another, I finally felt as though all of the little things that had been bothering me in the past few weeks were suddenly unimportant and trivial. I felt at peace then and I still feel at peace now as I watch sky grow pink between the rows and rows of apartment buildings.

So the long and short of this peripatetic post is that I have indeed experienced, in Josh’s words, “lightening difficulties.” Maybe the truth is that the difficulties haven’t weighed any less so much as my attitude towards the difficulties has lightened. No matter how much resistance I encounter to my attempts to teach Sociolinguistics or Brit. Lit, my goal here really isn’t to spread the good news about Milton’s Paradise Lost. Nor am I here to sermonize on the conversational values of the Malagasy tribe in West Africa. If the students—our friends in Russia—happen to learn to like Shakespeare in the time I am with them, I’ll consider it a bonus. But the servant’s work never really is supposed to be glorious, is it?

By the way, last night the students responded to my new enthusiasm and reinvigorated spirit by killing me off first in our game of “Mafia”. Apparently a shark came and bit off both of my legs and I bled to death. It’s nice to be appreciated.