I dress like a kindergarten teacher.

These last two weeks have been the firsts of many to come in English Playschool-Moscow. They've also been the first weeks of responsibility and attempting a regular sleep pattern. It has included getting punched in the face, being called "Mr. Fatbottom", being hit on by a five year old (but not really), and having the privilege of helping to shape the minds of beautiful children. Read on...

The past month has been sad and enjoyable--for different reasons. Coming home was nice because I got to see family and friends. For a week and a half, I troubled myself with visa problems (just BARELY completing the process hours before the deadline), and spent every spare moment with people. No, I mean it. Seriously. I felt loved and stressed all at the same time. I think next time it would be wiser to come home for longer?

Arriving back home in Russia took more acclimating than I thought it would. My whole world here had changed...again. I came home to a new flat, a new roommate, a new job....and Russian...again. I know sometimes God takes us through awkward, sad and uncomfortable times so that when the better times come, we can be truly grateful. I hope that's what I am right now.

My new home is better than my last (pictures will come soon), and my new roommate is a lovely Orthodox girl named Katya. She speaks English fairly well and took great pains to get to know me. She also tries as often as possible to speak Russian with me and to introduce me to her friends. (Let me say this: I really believe God will honor those who endure helping someone learn a language. They are the most patient, selfless people I have ever met.)We definitely have cultural differences that will take blind respect to avoid unfairly judging one another, but overall, I think we'll do quite well.

My new job is going well. I am the head kindergarten teacher (only because my native tongue is English and kids and I seem to get along) at a small English school owned by Russians. I have three "assistants" who have been there since the dawn of time, and about 20 little dears to goof around with all day long. There will be some stories below.

St. Antipa's is still a good experience for me. I'm learning more about Russian Orthodoxy every day as I interact with people at work and my very small social circle. Someone here said it like this: Russian Orthodoxy is like a great, big furniture store. They have plenty of lovely pieces of art around their home that they love and cherish very, very deeply. Sometimes, however, since the pieces of art and furniture are so old, they worry more about cleaning and preserving them than actually putting them to use. These "pieces" I speak of are Russia's aged icons and spiritual writings, as well as their churches and traditions. Being an American convert to Orthodoxy from Protestantism, I have a very different approach. We Americans don't have all of the old traditions, churches and icons. Sure, we've adapted to some of the traditions, but we don't have deep roots like the Russians do. I respect them in that whatever they read or see, they revere with the utmost sincerity. The difference, really, is that they believe and follow with a keen heart, while Westerners (particularly from a Protestant background) attempt to be more analytical...sometimes more than they should. I don't really mean for either to sound positive or negative--both have their benefits and hindrances. As always, there should be a good balance.

Now some kid stories:

It was Wednesday, and Wednesday is Science Day in our kindergarten class. My assistants had placed before me a subject and lesson plan, saying, "This is the lesson plan. Do what you want, but this is what you should do." The lesson plans are usually so good and thorough that I just do what they want. This week, however, I made a small change since we were learning about air. Seriously, how can you teach a bunch of 5 year olds about air and NOT teach them air guitar?? Now would be a good time for you to picture me playing the air guitar, whilst encircled by many air guitar-playing children. Hilarious, right? Directly after the lesson is lunchtime, and a small boy named Nikita was playing the air guitar at his table rather than eating his lunch. I came over to him and knelt down behind him, starting to say, "Nikita, now it's lunchtime. It's not the time to play." As I finished, his hand holding the neck of his "guitar" shot upward and jabbed me right in the eye. His response? "I'm sorry, but you shouldn't have been there."

Another time, I was in the kitchen heating up my lunch, and one of the girls came in and said, "Shannon, I'm going to call you Mr. Fatbottom," in her little British accent. I asked why, stating that I was neither a "Mr." nor did I have a "fat bottom". "I suppose that's true," she said, "but maybe you have a fat tummy. Maybe just a little."
"Yeah, you might be right, but Erica, that's not very nice. People don't like it when you say those things," I said through suppressed laughter. She shrugged and ran off to play, but as she left, a little boy named Andrei came up to me, and with BIG brown eyes said, "Don't listen to her. I think you're pretty and I like you." That's a good man.


Nikita (the little boy who punched me in the face) was being rather naughty one day, so I put him in time-out. He cried and cried and cried, and when I came back to get him, he said, "I hate this school. I don't ever want to come back. I always get in trouble." You see, he and I have something very similar about us. When someone antagonizes us, we both respond strongly and openly. We are the kind of people whom other people notice doing something wrong--it is rare when the silent antagonizer is caught. Little punks. So anyway, Nikita and I were in another room talking, and it was a good conversation. Later on, he was working on a lesson, and as I walked past, I congratulated him on a job well done. He grabbed my skirt and said, "Shaman (that's what they call me), sit down next to me."
"Why, Nikita? You're doing wonderfully. You don't need help."
"Because I love you."
My heart melted five times.

Last story (and the reason for my Subject Title):

In my first week, I didn't make a great effort to dress differently. I just dressed the way I normally do and have for many years. In walks my boss and she gasps with happiness.
"Shannon, you LOOK like a kindergarten teacher! Your outfit today is PERFECT."
"Oh...thank you..."
So, evidently, I dress like a kindergarten teacher and always have. :-|