Today was a short day, classes breaking around noon. There was an ice-cream company that was promoting their product and had announced that they would be giving away free ice-cream to all the students in the school. I was in the midst of a game involving conjugating verbs when the screams of a multitude of children burst into the room from the open windows of our second floor classroom. Of course we all ran to the windows. I was afraid someone had been run over. Hundreds of young children were lining the road outside the school having been released from classes to wait for the ice-cream truck. Thunder rumbled high up over the mountains behind the swimming pool complex across the road. From that point class was over.
The math teacher from the day before, Nino, and another English teacher, Irina, who I have taught with a few times, took me for coffee to the café in the pool complex. We talked about the process of teacher certification while sipping Turkish coffee and eating the cheesy pizza called khatchapuri. Nino invited us all on an excursion to the home of one of the most famous Georgian poets, Akaki Tsereteli, in the village near here. She took us in her car, and we visited not only the preserved home-stead of the poet but the 10th century church that Eka and her family attend on Sundays that stands hidden among maple and mulberry trees on the hill above.
No comments:
Post a Comment