On top of our game.

Week 63 – 11/27 – 12/3/2011: Baku, Bujag, Ganja

With the huge expansion of the softball league that took place last season, management of the league became a bit hectic. The spring Peace Corps Partnership Project grant (PCPP) was never submitted, leading to a lack of funding and, thus, a lack of tournaments for league members. It was an unfortunate and inexcusable error, one that I, as commissioner of the league, hope to avoid at all costs. If Sunday was any indication, I’d say we are on the right track.

Meeting in the lounge before heading back to our respective sites, the newly formed softball committee of Jake, Trey, Reed, and I worked together to put the final touches on the softball PCPP. With the grant covering both the spring and fall seasons and plans to expand the league, both in number of teams and number of tournaments, it is an absolutely massive grant to fill. Nevertheless, with more than five months until the start of the season and the grant already submitted, we are on top of our game. I am fully confident each team in the league will be able to play in every tournament for which it is scheduled.

And it’s not just the baseball grant that is on the table. While expanding creativity and developing new methods and activities with my counterparts may be my biggest focus as a TEFL volunteer, there are other ways that I can also help make a lasting impact. With the Ministry of Education issued textbooks being just about the only teaching/learning material available, Bujag School is seriously lacking in language-learning resources. The school has no exercise workbooks, dictionaries, storybooks, visual aids, and the list goes on and on. With the help of my counterparts and director, I would like to help change all of this. Working together on a Small Project Assistance (SPA) grant, we hope to bring in the necessary funds to establish an English Resource Room and Library. If all goes well, the school will have grammar workbooks, dictionaries, storybooks, a catalogue of visual aids, a TV, a DVD player, and a computer to help further the English education of its students.

* * *

Why Bujag School was chosen for such an event, I was never told, but on Thursday, an army of Ministry of Education officials and teachers from other Oguz Region schools came to Bujag for some sort of an education showcase. All week leading up to the event, the school administration and teachers were anxious. When the day finally arrived, everybody went just a little bit nuts. Teachers patrolled the hallways like the Gestapo, making sure children were in their classrooms well before the bell rang (usually, kids don’t pour into class until a minute or five after the bells rings). The groundskeepers frantically hung the final pictures and student works on the wall before the delegation arrived. The director and deputy director paced back-and-forth in nervous anticipation.

And then there was me. With absolutely no stake in the day’s events (they wouldn’t be observing any English classes), I had no reason to panic. As the only person in the village with a camera, my only job was to snap photos of the classes that members of the delegation attended. Although I would have rather been teaching my own classes, it was interesting to finally be able to see some other teachers at work. While some of the observed classes were seriously lacking in creativity, many were full of interactive activities and productivity, a nice reminder that creative lessons are not exclusive to my English classrooms.

But even my simple role as photographer was not enough to keep me from joining the ranks of the temporarily insane. Every 20 minutes or so, my deputy director would pull me from whichever classroom I was in, grab hold of my arm, and frantically drag me to another observed lesson to take pictures. Early in the morning, the frantic chaos humored me. However, as the day wore on, the humor of the situation grew annoying and my patience began to wear thin. My annoyance finally boiled over when my director insisted I take more pictures of the Minister of Education as he addressed the students during the extended break. I had already taken ten photos of the man, all of them the same except for slight changes in facial expression. There was absolutely no need for any more. In a hostile whisper, I explained to my director that additional pictures would be no different than the previous ten. And with that snap, it became official: everybody was crazy.

At the start of the day, I didn’t quite understand why such a fuss was being made. As I began to think like an insider, though, I realized that the arrival of such a large delegation was a huge deal. The school administration and teachers had every right to be nervous and stressed. From what I saw, though, they have no more reason to worry. Granted, not every teacher had his or her lessons observed, but for those who did, almost all of them showed that they are successfully using effective methodologies. I hope they continue to do so, even without the presence of a delegation.

* * *

How she escaped from the yard, I have no idea. All I do know is that in the 15 minutes between letting her out and gathering my things to head to Ganja, she had disappeared. “She couldn’t have gone far,” I said to myself as I began searching my house’s immediate surroundings. An hour-and-a-half later, after surveying much of lower Bujag and asking neighbors if they had seen the rascal, Kea was still on the loose.

Too late to catch a bus to Ganja, I returned to my house, every 30 minutes or so shouting out her name, but otherwise sulking in the misery of how terrible a dog owner I had become. What kind of heartless scumbag loses his less-than two-month old puppy? Moreover, what was I going to do with that huge bag of dog food I had just bought?

As night fell on Bujag, I continued my semi-hourly call to the lost canine, each yell growing less hopeful than the one before. At 6:30, with the village dogs howling in the darkness, I made another feeble call. This time, I heard something familiar. After calling out Kea’s name, I heard a high-pitched, crying yelp among the symphony of mature, forceful barks. Again I yelled and again I heard the responding cry. I immediately left my yard and began to follow the sound. As I approached the source, though, a terrifyingly powerful growl began to sound. Unable to see in the pitch black, I could not spot the exact source of the noise. If I had taken another step, though, I surely would have been ripped to shreds by the most violent and powerful dog this world has ever seen.

Scared shitless, I turned around and ran away. I wasn’t giving up on the rescue mission, though. Returning home, I grabbed a headlamp to help me navigate the darkness and a baseball bat to fend off any would-be four-legged attackers. I was taking no prisoners in the search for my lost pup.

Just as I was descending the staircase, though, I heard my neighbor calling my name. Turning on the porch light, I saw him approaching my house with a potato sack in hand. I figured he simply wanted to drop off some vegetables, as the kind people of this village do for me all too often. Although I was in a hurry to find my dog, I invited him up to the balcony to receive my present of produce. But when he emptied the contents of the sack, the only thing that rolled out was my little Kea.

The little fur-ball had apparently escaped into the yard of a neighbor and instead of immediately returning her to me, the neighbors decided to hang on to her for a few hours. I had no energy to complain, though. I was just happy to have her back… and happy that my neighbor had shown up in time to prevent me from taking batting practice on the village dogs.

The following morning, with Kea safe and sound on the porch, I took off for Ganja, where the first meeting for ABLE Camp 2012 was taking place. Although I had missed the first two hours, I was soon caught up and prepared to help discuss the rest of the day’s massive agenda. From a preliminary timeline, to a preliminary curriculum, to financing, to logos, this first ABLE meeting covered a lot of ground and set the tone for what will surely be another successful camp. Just like the softball league, the ABLE boys are on top of our game.

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Please Help the Azerbaijan Interregional Softball League by donating today:

https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=314-091