Part 2 and Final Thoughts

The First Week: Part 2/Final Thoughts and Going Home

Having the opportunity to spend time in this special school was a privilege I will never be able to replicate. At first, I was unsure; firstly (and this is kind of a big one) I speak absolutely no Gaelic. I tried to learn a little on DuoLingo before we arrived and only managed to retain the translations for And, Man, Girl, and Apple. Secondly, I haven’t observed in an elementary school for years. I absolutely love kids, but having not worked with them in a classroom for quite some time, I was nervous that I wasn’t going to be very useful. And finally, we were going in knowing little-to- nothing about what our roles would be other than interacting with the kids. 

The Gaelic language (though they simply refer to it as Irish) did come as an initial adjustment for sure. The only time it isn’t spoken throughout the school day is when the kids are working on English. Occasionally a teacher would pop into the classroom for a minute to address the class, the students would nod, and that teacher would exit the room. Or the kids would gather in the main hall for an assembly of some kind and the principal would talk to the students for a while before sending them back to class. Did I know what was being said? Absolutely not, but sometimes I could get the general gist (the kids need to read more books, students are needed for fiddle practice, the hurling team won something, etc...). Everyone at the school was so helpful, though, and never once made us feel silly for not knowing Irish. The students were allowed to speak to us in English whenever they wanted, though despite being code-switching pros, some of the kids did occasionally come running up to us with questions in Irish. Whenever this happened they would catch their mistake with a little head shake and a giggle, like they’d just been poked on the nose, and restate their question in English. They took great delight in the fact that I didn’t know what they were saying; they could talk to each other about me at full volume while looking me dead in the eyes and I would still have no clue as to what they were talking about. They also liked to hear me try to speak the language. Many of their names were traditional Irish names, and are therefore not pronounced how they are spelled. We played a game in which one of the classes gave a few of us their workbooks and we had to try to read the name written in the corner; it was obviously a whole mess and the kids laughed so hard I swear they had tears in their eyes. But they did teach me how to count to 10 in Irish (which ended up being weirdly similar to Spanish) and that was so fun for them. 

As for working in the elementary school and finding my role there, my worries were very much alleviated on day one. The teacher I was paired with (AMAZING woman by the way) gave me several jobs throughout the week and allowed me to take time to work with the students one-on-one. First, she had me go through a lot of the students old assignments, which allowed me to get a feel for what the students do all year, and allowed me to become familiar with their names. For the rest of the week, I worked daily with the students on their reading. There were two different groups reading two different books; I would take each group into another room in the school, sit them in a circle, and have them take turns reading. They all very much had what I like to call “substitute teacher syndrome”, so it was hard at times to get them to focus and to seriously do their reading, but it was great to get to work with these students and hear how they read. I also helped them with their daily workbook work as well. I noticed a lot of differences between American and Irish schools, but one of the biggest differences in the courses was the reliance on these workbooks. The students had a different workbook for each lesson, and each one was split up in a very specific, scheduled pace for every day of the year. Besides the English workbook, these were all in Irish, so any time I worked with a student on their work they had to translate the pages for me first. This was always really interesting because sometimes there was no direct and literal translation, so they really had to explain it, which I found actually helped their comprehension of the question. They even had to help me understand some of their math, as they were working on adding coins and bills, and they use Euro and I still have no idea what kinds of coins they have (a whole “help me help you” situation). I was able to teach them about Kentucky, and they even colored their own Derby jockey silks. 

Their colorful silks and silly horse names

I was so lucky to have the opportunity to work with these super cool students, but it was also fantastic to get to speak with the teachers. We had a lot of questions for them, but they also had a lot of questions for us. We discussed the importance of physical fitness and nurturing of interest in schools, teacher compensation and responsibility, lesson planning- really there are so many differences, but I felt like it all boiled down to the focus on nurture. I don’t know how things work at other Irish schools, but at the Gaelscoil the students are happy and don’t seem stressed or pressured about their work. They are encouraged to take advantage of their snack and lunch breaks to get outside and play with their friends. This time is also used for the sports teams to practice. They also have a cast of rotating teachers and demonstrators that come in several times a month to teach French, traditional Irish music, Irish dancing, hurling- all of which are done at school and during class time. The teachers really stressed the idea of sending students on to secondary school with a love of learning, but also for their interests

Final Thoughts and Going Home

I loved spending time at this school. Our last day was so emotional; despite our short time together, the students made a lasting impact on me. They also chased us all down to collect all of our signatures like some kind of minor celebs. At the end of the day, I left the kids with a little Big Red for them to keep, they littered me with glittery cards, and surrounded me in hugs. Leaving them, the school, and the country was so much harder than expected. I was just getting used to life in Westport and the routine of the school when I had to say goodbye. The time I spent there, though, was invaluable. I want to be sure that my future classroom is nurturing and focuses on my students’ learning and happiness equally. I also want to pass on what I have learned, as it is so important to learn from the successes of other education systems, and their growth. 

Goodbye, Gaelscoil!

The First Week: Part 1

Hello again! I obviously lied in the last post, as I did not end up posting a daily update like I had planned (but that was not realistically in-character, let’s be honest). So before I share what happened in the amazing cities of Berlin and Stockholm, and about getting caught up in the aftermath of a pilot strike, I’m going to talk about my first week in the Irish school system! This post will have to be split in two for length, time, and sanity’s sake. 

After an early morning bus ride, my travel companions and I were able to make it back to Westport after one of the most stressful travel events of my life (but more on that later). We got ten minutes to change from travel casual to classroom ready, and then we hopped in the waiting taxi and headed to Gaelscoil na Cruaiche, our host-school for the next week. Another thing about the school... it’s a fully Gaelic school, meaning every member of the faculty and student body speaks Gaelic unless the lesson is required to be in English. 

The Gaelscoil

We knew that we were in for something totally new. When we arrived, we were greeted by two very nice members of the faculty who were very concerned about our lack of sleep (“would you like a cup of tea? Aren’t you shattered?” they kept asking, which I’m guessing is the Irish equivalent of ‘wrecked’ or ‘exhausted’). We were ushered into our respective classrooms, and instantly the kids were silent. From the moment I walked into Rang 3 (class 3), I felt like the newest traveling exhibit at the Children’s Museum. As soon as they were allowed, the kids broke their Gaelic and asked me all kinds of questions, which were put on hold so that their múinteoir (teacher) could continue with her lesson. For a long while I just sat and watched, and listened. You guys- the students are IMPRESSIVE. In the few days I have been here, I have been blown away by the things they can do. Firstly and foremost, they all speak extremely fluent Gaelic. This is an old and difficult language; you don’t pronounce several letters in most words, some letter combinations make sounds that sound like different letters, and most words do not sound like they look. It is - incredibly- hard to learn. These kids are fluent by age 8. On top of that, they’re all learning French. FRENCH. They get French lessons every single week and are able to have full conversations by the time they’re ready for secondary school. PLUS they all learn how to play the tin flute and the button accordion/concertina, and have the option (and motivation) to learn the piano accordion, the flute, the cello, the bodhrán (an Irish drum), the harp, and others. So not only are they lingually literate, they are musically literate as well. Like I said, impressive. 

Through un-breaking stares, loud whispers in Gaelic, and a constant circle of students, we felt kind of like minor celebrities, and we were absolutely bombarded with questions from curious kids. On my second day (and after a long and beautiful walk to the school), I held a Q-and-A with my class. 

Our daily commute

They asked questions like, “What’s America like? How long did it take you to get here? What does “y’all” mean? Do you know Jake Paul? Do you really fry all your food? What’s your favorite color? How would you rate Donald Trump’s presidency on a scale of 1-10?” These kids seriously asked every question under the rainbow and then some. Some of them were expected- the differences between America and Ireland, funny words or names, American traditions and habits- but others were more surprising. They asked me a lot of questions about myself; I think they were looking to see if my life in any way resembled their own. I told them about my family and my dog, my cities and my school, my interests and my opinions. It forced me to really examine myself from a literally trivial perspective I haven’t thought about in a long time, considering how often I’ve had to fill out a professional resume in the last few months. They also asked several questions about American politics, history, and religion, which really threw me for a loop. So often in the States we avoid certain topics like the plague because they’re taboo to discuss with perfect strangers, coworkers, or even friends; too much of a difference in opinion could cause too much uneasiness for friendly cooperation, so no one takes the chance. These kids, though, don’t care about difference of opinion when it comes to these topics. For them, what goes on in America is a regular topic of conversation, and they don’t have to pick a side. I glanced at their teacher every time one of these questions came up, internally cringing out of habit, but she only urged me on. She wanted me to answer their questions honestly, so I did (with as simple an explanation as I could muster). I told them about how America has two big political parties that currently disagree over how our president is running the country, and that we have a big election coming up soon to see if he will get be our president again for another four years. I said that a lot of people are angry, and our country is divided at the moment, but not everyone let’s the craziness get the best of them. Compared to their country, America is young, it’s still growing, and we’re still learning how to make the best of our successes and our mistakes. It broke my heart to hear them ask if America hates Mexico and immigrants, or why we love plastic so much, or if it was common for people to get so mad that they pull out a gun. This is the America that they see- that the world sees. They perceive the best and worst of us and build up a complicated, split image in their head of what an American is supposed to be. They know that we’re supposed to be United- the land of the patriotic free and the forefront of the big civil rights movements, but everything coming across the world news paints a picture of nationalist extremes and intrusion on civil liberties- of divisions and walls. These inquisitive kids seemed to be more interested and open to talking about American politics than most adults I know back home, so with their teacher’s permission, I was happy to answer their questions as best I could. 

A typical day at this school is nothing like what I’ve been able to observe in the American elementary school system. First and foremost, their school day begins a at 9:00am and ends around 2:30pm, for a total of 5.5 hours in the school. The students also get two breaks spaced evenly through the day, one short break at around 10:00 for a snack and recess (and a full kilometer lap), and a second, longer break for lunch and another recess (and another lap). Combined, these breaks make up just over an hour of the day, leaving 4.5 hours of instructional time. The teachers were absolutely horrified to learn that our students go from 7:30am to nearly 3:00 with a measly 25 minutes for lunch (and no outdoor activities). Throughout the day, the kids are cooperative, energized, and eager to learn. The teachers attribute this not only to the break times spent outdoors, but also the freedoms they allow the students within the school. During lunch, the teachers all head to the staff room while the students roam in and out of their classroom as they please, switching between eating their lunches and running around outside (though recess is lightly supervised in case of injury)- sometimes they even pop casually into the staff room for a cup of water. Teachers are not required to be with their students at all times. This was the biggest shock for me, since back home, leaving a class alone for an extended amount of time could be disastrous for the students and for the teacher. The teachers assured me that this was just how things worked; they trust their coworkers to peak in on an occasional classroom if they happen to be walking by, but more importantly, they say the kids know how they should be acting and act accordingly. This was, and still remains, a MAJOR adjustment for me. Every time I start to leave for lunch, I stick around for a few minutes extra because it feels wrong and unsafe to leave the kids alone in the classroom- like I’m breaking the golden rule of teaching. The kids, however, are used to this routine. They get time to talk and play freely with their classmates, and they don’t take it for granted. Behavior problems during this time are reportedly very rare because the students understand that this time is a wonderful privilege, and it would be silly to do something to get themselves or their class in trouble. And, like the teachers said, they know how to act. There is a respect for the school itself unlike many I have seen. Students sweep the classroom floor twice a day, there is no visible graffiti, and trash always ends up in the bins, not the floor. The school has just over 200 students, and each grade level (of which there are eight) gets their own classroom (also every classroom has a girls’ and a boys’ bathroom which is just incredible). They are also allowed to check out one of the school’s hundreds of instruments to play and practice, and they are all still in great condition. Unfortunately in an American classroom, there is always a level of distrust. No matter how much we want to tell ourselves that our class would never break, steal, or harm something in our absence, we can not shake that big “what if” (and the fear of a lawsuit). In this school, the students’ main priority is not always the core academia: educators really focus on creating young, respectful, thoughtful Irish citizens by instilling a sense of responsibility and pride in their space. My hope is that we can reform our education system to include these core values from the very beginning and continue to make them a priority on par with standardized testing in the later years. 

It takes me ages to write one of these things- ages I do not have- so my upload schedule will be a bit all over the place. Here are the titles of my unwritten, upcoming posts:

The First Week: Part 2

Life in Westport, Ireland
Climbing the Mountain

Perfect Cities and Pilot Strikes

Final Thoughts/Going Home

The First Days

Wow these first few days have been absolutely non-stop. Just to keep everything straight I think I’m going to organize everything by day of the week.

MONDAY

After some last-minute packing, I said goodbye to my apartment and Morgan, Rachel, and I left Bowling Green for the Nashville airport. 

Let’s go!

I was able to fit everything into two small bags, which ended up being such a tight fit, but it was worth it at the bag carousel later. Before boarding, we made sure to exchange some of our American currency for Euros because we definitely needed it (and because their money is so much nicer, honestly), met up with the rest of our little group, and took off for Newark, New Jersey to catch our connecting flight to Ireland. Having flown so often, I’ve heard plenty of jokes about airline food, but this flight had the first non-joke-worthy meals I’ve ever had on a plane.

Leaving Newark

TUESDAY

Our flight officially landed early Tuesday morning, and we were finally on Irish soil! Since our train to Westport wasn’t scheduled to depart for another few hours, we were given a driving tour across Dublin and it’s scenic neighbors, including Malahide, Howth, and Sword. It’s amazing how much the country cares about providing its citizens with ample green space, as their extensive and beautiful public parks would put even our nicest local parks to high shame. 

Malahide has it

A path divided

After a lovely Irish breakfast, we were dropped off at the train station to begin our journey to Westport. 

Westport-bound

It’s hard to confront how accustomed you’ve become to miles and miles of buildings crammed one against the other when you’re zipping across a country of seemly endless, rolling green fields (and a very large number of happy looking sheep and cows). Over three hours, from the east coast to the west, mist covered hills like out of a Brontë novel. Even the architecture is surreal; these structures were built to last, and have lasted, for hundreds of years. The insides may be renovated, but the storied facades have character, history, and a timeless energy that one does not see too often stateside. 

The Irish flag or a country-side sunset?

As soon as we arrived at our station in Westport, we were instantly greeted by one of our wonderful hosts, Ciara, who loaded us up into a car headed to our Irish home, Broadlands BnB, where dinner was already waiting for us. We were served a creamy chicken and vegetable soup and a traditional Irish dinner of bacon and cabbage, with mashed potatoes (pictures courtesy of Morgan since I was so hungry I ate before I could even pick up my phone). One of our hosts was shocked that some of us had never had cabbage, or the orange and cranberry-flavored drinks we were given; he said that’s what every Irish kid grows up on. It’s weird, but cool, to think about how kids around the world grow up so similarly, but with totally different customs and traditions. 

The best soup ever

Irish bacon a.k.a. ham

Morgan, Rachel, and I had to excuse ourselves from dinner a bit early, as we needed to unpack and repack for our upcoming side-adventure. Being the most hostly hosts ever, they brought desert to our room so we could eat it while we packed (strudel not pictured, for the same reason as before). And just like that, the three of us were in a taxi, to the train station, and on our way to Dublin once again. The three of us slept almost the entire ride, having been up for around 24 hours at that point, so we were back in Dublin in no time. After trying (and failing) to figure out how to call a taxi without phone service or WiFi, we ended up walking the 20 minutes to our place for the night, The Generator Hostel. It ended up being one of those really cool places where there don’t seem to be any travelers over the age of 30, and people are hanging out in the lobby’s neon-lit lounge and bar well past midnight. Having arrived around 9:30 pm and having scheduled a taxi for 4:30am, though, we were not those people. 

The trendiest hostel in Dublin?

WEDNESDAY

After waking up far before the crack of dawn, we hopped in a taxi and headed back to the Dublin airport, this time departing for Berlin. After one more Irish breakfast, we took a short and sleepy plane ride into Germany, where we rode the struggle-bus trying to figure out how to get to our final destination on the actual bus. With hours before check-in and a strong urge to leave the airport, we took the bus to Alexanderplatz, the metro station that would connect us to the line nearest our AirBnB. Fortunately for us, this part of the city was absolutely covered in street vendors, all selling souvenirs, clothing, candy and some extremely delicious-looking food (though the smells we got for free). We each picked out a German snack and blew through some euros, before making our way to our hostel. 

Iconic Berlin

So much food

Rocks and minerals (of course)

Dolls in dolls in dolls in dolls

Even more food good lord

Morgan’s bratwurst

Rachel’s pretzel

Fried appelringes 

The fun thing about traveling in another country is that you get to unplug for a bit and find your way around a city with a basic set of directions, a map, and no service. The unfortunate part about this, though, is that when your AirBnB host sends you the passcode for the front door, you kind of need WiFi to see it. So we stood at the front door for a bit, peeking into the office and looking like lost Americans before walking back to the nearest metro station for the WiFi (thanks, Berlin public transportation!). Then we were walking back to the building, where I sufficiently embarrassed myself in front of some sweet European girls (also locked out)as I typed in the code numerous times, yanking on the door handle, before realizing that it was a push door, not a pull. Our room is incredible, considering it is definitely not the one I booked (but I’m certainly not complaining or telling the host). We were supposed to be in a room aptly named the sleep-box, but we were assigned a beautiful room with a private bathroom, a full sized bed, a comfy couch, two walls of floor-to-ceiling windows, and a full sized loft, complete with a lofted ceiling and chandelier. Again, not complaining. 

Expectation

Reality

 Being sufficiently exhausted, we decided to take a well-deserved nap (unanimous in the decision, as we had all unintentionally passed out sitting on our comfy beds before deciding what to do next). When we woke up from our jet-lag-induced comas, we found a restaurant that was still open, and when the server at said restaurant stated that two big parties had cleared the kitchen of food, we found a different restaurant- a Lion Burger. Yes, having traveled thousands of miles to a different country to end up at a burger place for dinner sounds like the most stereotypical American thing of all, but hey, it was late, it was open, and I got a burger with fried Swiss Rösti potatoes on it, and you can’t get that in America. 

Halfway through I remembered to take the picture

We’re back in our hostel for the night; I can’t wait to see what the rest of our time in Berlin brings us, and I’ll try to post more often so I’m not coming at you with such an aggressive wall of text and photos.

Bis später!

-Olivia

Introduction

I’ve never exactly done this before so I guess I’ll just start off with an introduction:

Hi, I’m Olivia Santangelo, and this is my travel blog! I will be using this to document my next two weeks in Ireland, including my side-trips to Berlin and Stockholm.

While I have never been to Ireland before, this will not be my first time abroad. The summer after my senior year of high school, I spent two weeks traveling across London, Paris, and various parts of Italy. My Freshman year of college, I spent spring break camping in Death Valley to study geologic formations. The summer after sophomore year, I studied citizen interaction and neighborhood history for two weeks in Washington D.C.. My last actual trip abroad was to the East Coast of Australia, where I was able to learn about Aboriginal culture and study with Native Australians.

I am excited for the opportunity to once again learn in another country and to teach in a school so different from my own.