All I Have to Do ...

UPDATE: I'm still staying in a hostel near the Plaza de Sol with three other girls who are also English teachers with the Comunidad de Madrid. They are still looking for apartments and we've been here for almost a week now. Because they are not Spanish residents, they're having a hard time renting here. They’re miserable and frustrated with apartment hunting. I, on the other hand, plan to live with a family in order to speak more Spanish and save some money these first few months. Just tonight, I met the family I will be staying with. I had been in touch with them while I was still in the States, but we finally connected! I went over to their house, met the family, and loved it. I'll have my own private bedroom and bathroom on the first floor. The only disadvantage of all this is that I am pretty far out of the city — almost an hour commute to downtown. But I'm living and working in my grade school part-time in Alcobendas, a suburb of Madrid which is its own city with lots of buses to and from Madrid. The mother of the boys, Ana, is wonderful and wants me to start as soon as I am able. We seem to get along very well and are a lot alike. She is an attorney and is the president of an NGO that does work with empowering women all over the world. She has lived in the United States, Germany, and France and speaks many different languages. Professionally, it could turn out to be a very positive situation — lots of potential networking that might help in finding an immigration internship after I take my LSAT on Dec. 6. And then there are the boys, Nacho and Ismael, that I will babysit in the afternoons. They are four years old and absolutely adorable. All I have to do is play with them, speak to them in English, and keep them busy until Ana arrives home in the evenings.

Kate's moving toDAY
into some strangers' HOME
And she'll soon get to PAY
Her grandfather's LOAN
Oh the tiiiiimes they are a'changin

All I Have to Do, Right … Locura, Stress, Driving and Caca

“Corre, corre, corre! Venga!”

These were the first words out of Ana´s mouth when she picked me up last Sunday. It was move-in day to her house, and I should have known that the second I moved in with this family, my life would be crazy.

Oct. 1, 2008 started off as one of the most exciting days I've had since graduation. Not only was I employed as an au pair by a wonderful Spanish family, I also had a real job at a school, working for the Spanish government as a teacher.

That morning I woke up at 7 a.m., got ready, packed my things for school, had the usual peanut butter on toast with a cup of coffee and was off to catch the bus. I walked to the bus stop across the street from my house, also known as the A1 highway of Madrid. I watched thousands of madrileños speed past me in their cars, and tried to be as patient as possible as I waited 45 minutes for the #155 to take me to school.

As 9 o´clock came and went, I stopped sitting and waiting for a bus that never came. I decided to cross the A1 highway again, walk back to my house in Cuesta Blanca, and ask Ana what to do. From there, she instructed me to help get her two four-year-old boys ready for school. She would drive me to work afterward. Easy enough, right?

I got the boys dressed, fed, and then took them to their bus stop. This turned out to be my second mishap of the morning — dragging one of the boys, Nacho, to the bus stop, while the other one, Ismael, slowly poked behind, singing to himself. Nacho did not want to go to school that day, and was hitting me in the face, pulling my hair, and crying hysterically as I carried him to the bus stop. The boys barely made it to the stop on time and were off to school, leaving me there to take a few deep breaths and start crying by myself over all the hysteria.

From there, I went back home, put my jacket on, and was off to my school, Emilio Casado, in the car with Ana. We arrived at school, and immediately asked the principal what my teaching schedule would be like. When I accepted this teaching job, I was under the impression that I would work 16 hours a week. To a recent college graduate, four days a week from 10 ‘til 2 sounded perfect! But I was mistaken, as I was informed that I would be working 9:30 – 4, Monday through Thursday. Ay madre mía.

After a long day at school getting to know the teachers and students, I took the wrong bus home to Cuesta Blanca. What should have been a ten-minute bus ride became an hour excursion around the northern suburbs of Madrid.

The moment I arrived home, there were Nacho and Ismael, screaming and running around. Ana was there, and we talked for a moment about what to do about my schedule, as I needed to pick up the boys at 4:10, but was scheduled to work at the school until 4. There just was not enough time to get home on the bus between my two jobs, so Ana suggested I take the car.

The stick-shift car.

The rest of our night consisted of practicing driving their second car around Alcobendas. “Arráncala! Otra vez! Despacito. Oye tía, arráncala por favor! Otra vez! Otra vez!”

In the meantime, the two little boys were sitting in the back seat and Ismael pooped in his pants. The night ended with me giving them a bath, telling Nacho to stop sniffing Ismael down there and cleaning their dirty clothes.

I keep telling myself that it is just a matter of adjusting and settling into my routine here, with the boys and at work. It’s tough, and I already know that sleep will be minimal. I need to accept that craziness, stress, and poop are now a way of life.