Extranjera Extraña: This life...is great.

For me, there are days that just absolutely suck. I am scatter brained, it's bad weather, my hair looks worse than I did when I made the wise choice to cut it all off...

And then, there are these beautiful days... magnificent... touching. Everything fits. Everything is in its place. Smiles are warmly responded with a harmonic hola.

I am in this place right now where I'm looking so hard for something that I can't deduce which is a sign and which is just an innocent happening--a daily insignificant occurrence. I have a routine here now. I have my vacations planned. I have a ticket home. There is closure. There is a clear and visible end date.

But, then, I walk down the street. The rain has just cleared and the confident Andalucian sun radiates through. I stroll down my camino to the frutería. People are buzzing--Friday means the kids from college are coming home for the weekend. There will be fiesta, family, and friends. I stand in line at the frutería always mentally preparing my speech and exactly what I want. If not, I buy way too much that I never use. Today, I chose to impulsively indulge in artichokes and proceeded to ask the attendant how she cooks them, since I don't have an oven. She kept asking me if I knew how to clean them and proceeded to teach me how to take off the leaves. I smiled--we eat the leaves. We work our way into the center, receiving more of what we want as we pull away each layer. The Spaniards go straight for the goods-- quita las ojas y luego tienes la tierna...esssoooo. Quieres essooo.

Life is beautifully simple--family, friends, food--vida. I have developed una mania for cooking. I have made a homemade meal everyday this week. I have ran ~~everyday~~ almost everyday.

Then, I go to work. I teach English and science in English to 12 classes---almost 400 students. And like me, they have their days. The days when they choose to talk during my whole 20 minutes of classtime to each other, then sporadically scream the wrong answers, all strewn with incessant confirmation questions spoken in Spanish about what I had just repeated three times in Spanglish (sometimes you just give in...).

Then, there was today. I told my sixth graders that they would receive a point for each correct sentence they told me--there were 3 possibilities for them to elaborate upon (3 point max.). If they reached 50 as a group, I would bring in something special. It proceeded mechanically amongst the first 6 novices--sticking to the formula. Then, I came upon one of my dearest students (her family hosted me and my roommate during our first day here...took us to see 9 apartments...that's dedication, no?). She took my response challenge to the next level--using her own set of vocabulary aside from shopping centre, bowling alley, and the restaurant...

Hell no.

This tía went to Cordoba to visit her cousins with her family.

I excitedly wrote a 6 upon the board and did my native American celebration dance. The kids surprised me...they know a lot more than they lead on, but there is no intrinsic motivation. There is no need to surpass this level of what's expected, solely, to please themselves.

But, my day flourished from there...
I was being funny with the teachers in the sala de profesores during recess (which btw, believe it or not, rarely happens in Spanish. I'm too busy focusing on my meticulously articulated response to have the capacity to also include my brilliant sense of humor).

Then, I went to 2A...my second-graders.

Oh, no...I'm sick. I don't want to yell...I just wish they could color in silence...

But, today was different. They must have all received the prescriptions for adderall that I sent their parents. There was an unprecedented level of participation--eye contact, smiles, amidst Spanish 7-year old accented English phrases about liquid water and vapor water. As I say my good-byes, Andrés, my roley-poley, bi-focalled, cutie-pie student lept out of his desk to squeeze me before I left.

That...is why I can do this.

In Steve Jobs' speech, "How to live before you die," he discusses destiny and passion for what you choose to do in life. He discusses how at this age, I am searching for answers and that's normal. But, I can't connect the dots until the future has passed--connecting the dots is post-analytical. Sometimes things happen that cannot be explained now, but will be made clear ten years later or even more.

His speech was inspired by this philosophy driven by passion--passion for what you do in life.

I believe in this.

I am passionate about children and about my language, but, honestly, this form of passion is a cultural product that has been trademarked by America.

Satisfaction via gratification. Self-motivation. Success. = American Passion.

I still don't know where that leaves me. I guess I won't know, like Steve Jobs has said, until I look back at my life 20 years from now and understand the significance of all these moments that are flying by.

So, I refuse to worry about that and shall carry on cooking, running, drinking (that's okay, right?), smiling, and having fun. Something a 22-year old should distract herself with...