It was time to get a job. I had a few
leads from Bruce, a guy I had met a while back and stayed in contact
with, meeting him for coffee once in a week or two. He gave me the
email of a place near where I lived, near the Kharkivska metro.
“They're about to have a few openings,” he told me, “since I'll
be leaving them soon, and they have a really unmotivated teacher
there too. I trust you're motivated enough. You've got to be
careful who you recommend, because their actions can always reflect
back to your own reputation.” We were at Kofe Hauz, his hands were
pressed tight around a cup of steaming coffee. I was sipping on my
own usual mocha. “Just know that even if you send something now
though, you might not hear back from them for a while. I mean, it is
the break. The break doesn't end for a few more weeks, on January
10th. People want to read the application and make
immediate hires, that's just how it works here, with teaching
especially. If you can't work immediately, don't apply until you
can.”
I took his advice and waited until it was closer to the end of the break. When I was in Kharkivska was when I sent out an email to his lead, Tanya. A few days later, Tanya emailed back and said almost the same thing. “Just come in on January 11th and we can talk.” On January 11th,I came to the school. The language school had its own office in the elementary school and borrowed the classrooms after the school was out. As I walked in, there were still some children lingering in the courtyard, even though by seven o'clock the dark had already settled over the city and stray dogs had come out to make their rounds at trash containers everywhere.
“You are Tanya?” I asked the girl sitting at the desk on a laptop.
“No, I'm Maria,” she said, smiling. “Tanya's coming though.”
I waited for a bit and chatted with Maria. She was something of the main clerk for the language school. We chatted for a bit. She was from the Southeastern part of Ukraine, where it was the most industrialized and Russian. She shared the family name of a famous Russian marshal who was one of Stalin's top advisors during World War II. “Once, in Bulgaria, I was late for a plane because of my connecting flight from Turkey. They held the plan for almost an hour for me. The Bulgarian captain greeted me, saying he remembered what the marshal had done for his own father.”
Finally Tanya came, who was every bit as attractive as the younger Maria. “We can take you on as a substitute first, but otherwise we have too many teachers as it is. Oh, but I do know one client who has a two year old daughter. Have you worked any with two year olds?”
“The youngest I've taught was an eight year old, but I'm willing to try anything,” I said. I couldn't imagine how I'd come across to the mother of a two year old girl or how I would just teach her. I could just play with her and talk to her, I suppose that would work. The daughter of one of my old host families in Georgia was two years old and we got along just fine. That's what I told the mother when we talked on the phone. “Though, to be honest, she ended up teaching me more Georgian than I taught her English!”
I took his advice and waited until it was closer to the end of the break. When I was in Kharkivska was when I sent out an email to his lead, Tanya. A few days later, Tanya emailed back and said almost the same thing. “Just come in on January 11th and we can talk.” On January 11th,I came to the school. The language school had its own office in the elementary school and borrowed the classrooms after the school was out. As I walked in, there were still some children lingering in the courtyard, even though by seven o'clock the dark had already settled over the city and stray dogs had come out to make their rounds at trash containers everywhere.
“You are Tanya?” I asked the girl sitting at the desk on a laptop.
“No, I'm Maria,” she said, smiling. “Tanya's coming though.”
I waited for a bit and chatted with Maria. She was something of the main clerk for the language school. We chatted for a bit. She was from the Southeastern part of Ukraine, where it was the most industrialized and Russian. She shared the family name of a famous Russian marshal who was one of Stalin's top advisors during World War II. “Once, in Bulgaria, I was late for a plane because of my connecting flight from Turkey. They held the plan for almost an hour for me. The Bulgarian captain greeted me, saying he remembered what the marshal had done for his own father.”
Finally Tanya came, who was every bit as attractive as the younger Maria. “We can take you on as a substitute first, but otherwise we have too many teachers as it is. Oh, but I do know one client who has a two year old daughter. Have you worked any with two year olds?”
“The youngest I've taught was an eight year old, but I'm willing to try anything,” I said. I couldn't imagine how I'd come across to the mother of a two year old girl or how I would just teach her. I could just play with her and talk to her, I suppose that would work. The daughter of one of my old host families in Georgia was two years old and we got along just fine. That's what I told the mother when we talked on the phone. “Though, to be honest, she ended up teaching me more Georgian than I taught her English!”
I went to the meet the next week on
Monday. “You'll go to Lebidinska Metro and meet the driver there,”
she instructed me. “Meet there at 8:30.” I was there at 8:35,
underestimating how slow the metro would be, and how slow my walk to
it would be, since I seemed determined on taking wrong turns. I
exited the metro into the tunnels and first took the tunnel to the
right. I didn't think the station would be too complicated, but I
should have realized that almost all the stations are. The driver
called me and spoke in Russian, “Where are you?”
“I'm here at the metro,” I said. I was looking around for landmarks. “Where are you?”
“I'm on the side with the green fence. Do you see a green fence?”
“No, I see a green store though.”
“Oh, you are on the other side.” He hung up. I went back down into the winding maze of tunnels, filled with fruit sellers and window electronics and underwear vendors and came out near a green fence, behind which was a construction site.
My phone rang again. “Where are you?” the driver asked.
“I'm on the side with the construction.”
“Oh, I came to meet you over on the side with the green store, next to where all the marshrutkas are.”
“Oh, okay, I'll come to you,” I said. “Just wait.” I went back into the tunnels and up near where I started. I went to the parking lot with the marshrutkas and was immediately met by a tall man in a black leather coat. “You're Shawn?”
“That's me.”
“Good, I finally found you!” he said. “Come with me, I'm on the other side of the metro.” We went back into the tunnels and came up near the construction site. We walked down there a bit and went up to a black Volkswagen minivan. “If you come back, this is where I always park and wait, got it?”
“Got it,” I nodded as I entered the minivan, which was already full, with six other passengers. As we drove, I wondered if these passengers would be dropped off before or after me. If they were dropped off before, I might be even more late. As we drove further out of town and into a forest, it became clear to me that perhaps these other passengers were going to the same place I was. And if they were, what kind of place was I coming to? The forest cleared out, revealing a huge mansion. Two security guards in black suits and earpieces were at the door, looking into the forest. A quick glance around the forest revealed other security checkpoints, forming a vague perimeter around the mansion. As I approached the door, I expected the large Ukrainian man to take my laptop case and search it, while the other over-sized guard checked my body, but instead they simply opened the door for me and allowed me on through.
The huge, two story circular entrance had stairs that followed either wall, with a black and white checkered tiled floor underneath. A Christmas tree still towered in the center, its peak reaching up to the ceiling, branches still laden with blue and red ornaments. I was brought to a cloak room on the side, where I could leave my things. The mother came in as I was taking off my coat and greeted me, introducing me to her daughter, Lydia. “Hello Lydia,” I said. “How are you?” I bent down to greet the girl, extending my hand. She took it and said, “I'm good.”
“What's your name?”
“Lydia,” she said. She stepped back behind her mothers legs and stared out at me from there.
“If you'd come this way and wash your hands,” her mother, Valya, told me. She was a dark haired Ukrainian woman. More homely than I would expect from someone this wealthy. I would have expected more of a trophy wife, but clearly she had some hidden attributes, or the man married simply to have a mother for his children, since it was clear she was not of the working type.
I spent an hour and a half with the Lydia and her mother, who mostly sat in the corner of the large parlor room watching us. Lydia and I sat at a small plastic table, playing with a monkey doll and plastic fruits. The entire time, I felt a bit like the Mad Hatter playing tea with little Alice, having her pour me pretend tea into my little plastic tea cup. “Pour me some tea, Lydia,” I would say.
“No,” she would reply.
“Why can't I have some tea?”
“Mommy!” Lydia said, repeating the word again and again until finally her mother came over and joined us, sitting on another plastic chair.
“I'm right here,” she said. Lydia immediately went to her and climbed up into her lap.
By the end of the hour and a half, the mother gave me a few pointers. “So, just next time, remember that. And we'll work through Tanya, okay? And give this envelope to Tanya, too.”
“Sure, right,” I said, taking the envelope from her and silently wondering what was in it. I felt like as I was just on a date with the mom and said something wrong – it was that kind of awkward. The driver pulled up in his minivan. This time it was just him and me. As he drove, we chatted in Russian a little, though I was constantly thrown in slight confusion whenever he said a word with a “g” in it since Western Ukrainians often have a hard time with the letter, pronouncing it like “h”. He was clearly a Western Ukrainian. “Where are you hoinh?” he asked.
“Just drop me at the metro, that's fine,” I told him. “Kiev's a great city, isn't it?”
“Yes, it's really hreat.”
“I'm here at the metro,” I said. I was looking around for landmarks. “Where are you?”
“I'm on the side with the green fence. Do you see a green fence?”
“No, I see a green store though.”
“Oh, you are on the other side.” He hung up. I went back down into the winding maze of tunnels, filled with fruit sellers and window electronics and underwear vendors and came out near a green fence, behind which was a construction site.
My phone rang again. “Where are you?” the driver asked.
“I'm on the side with the construction.”
“Oh, I came to meet you over on the side with the green store, next to where all the marshrutkas are.”
“Oh, okay, I'll come to you,” I said. “Just wait.” I went back into the tunnels and up near where I started. I went to the parking lot with the marshrutkas and was immediately met by a tall man in a black leather coat. “You're Shawn?”
“That's me.”
“Good, I finally found you!” he said. “Come with me, I'm on the other side of the metro.” We went back into the tunnels and came up near the construction site. We walked down there a bit and went up to a black Volkswagen minivan. “If you come back, this is where I always park and wait, got it?”
“Got it,” I nodded as I entered the minivan, which was already full, with six other passengers. As we drove, I wondered if these passengers would be dropped off before or after me. If they were dropped off before, I might be even more late. As we drove further out of town and into a forest, it became clear to me that perhaps these other passengers were going to the same place I was. And if they were, what kind of place was I coming to? The forest cleared out, revealing a huge mansion. Two security guards in black suits and earpieces were at the door, looking into the forest. A quick glance around the forest revealed other security checkpoints, forming a vague perimeter around the mansion. As I approached the door, I expected the large Ukrainian man to take my laptop case and search it, while the other over-sized guard checked my body, but instead they simply opened the door for me and allowed me on through.
The huge, two story circular entrance had stairs that followed either wall, with a black and white checkered tiled floor underneath. A Christmas tree still towered in the center, its peak reaching up to the ceiling, branches still laden with blue and red ornaments. I was brought to a cloak room on the side, where I could leave my things. The mother came in as I was taking off my coat and greeted me, introducing me to her daughter, Lydia. “Hello Lydia,” I said. “How are you?” I bent down to greet the girl, extending my hand. She took it and said, “I'm good.”
“What's your name?”
“Lydia,” she said. She stepped back behind her mothers legs and stared out at me from there.
“If you'd come this way and wash your hands,” her mother, Valya, told me. She was a dark haired Ukrainian woman. More homely than I would expect from someone this wealthy. I would have expected more of a trophy wife, but clearly she had some hidden attributes, or the man married simply to have a mother for his children, since it was clear she was not of the working type.
I spent an hour and a half with the Lydia and her mother, who mostly sat in the corner of the large parlor room watching us. Lydia and I sat at a small plastic table, playing with a monkey doll and plastic fruits. The entire time, I felt a bit like the Mad Hatter playing tea with little Alice, having her pour me pretend tea into my little plastic tea cup. “Pour me some tea, Lydia,” I would say.
“No,” she would reply.
“Why can't I have some tea?”
“Mommy!” Lydia said, repeating the word again and again until finally her mother came over and joined us, sitting on another plastic chair.
“I'm right here,” she said. Lydia immediately went to her and climbed up into her lap.
By the end of the hour and a half, the mother gave me a few pointers. “So, just next time, remember that. And we'll work through Tanya, okay? And give this envelope to Tanya, too.”
“Sure, right,” I said, taking the envelope from her and silently wondering what was in it. I felt like as I was just on a date with the mom and said something wrong – it was that kind of awkward. The driver pulled up in his minivan. This time it was just him and me. As he drove, we chatted in Russian a little, though I was constantly thrown in slight confusion whenever he said a word with a “g” in it since Western Ukrainians often have a hard time with the letter, pronouncing it like “h”. He was clearly a Western Ukrainian. “Where are you hoinh?” he asked.
“Just drop me at the metro, that's fine,” I told him. “Kiev's a great city, isn't it?”
“Yes, it's really hreat.”
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