After attempting a few different combinations of walking, metro, and train, I’ve settled on a path involving segments of all three in my daily northward journey towards Tres Cantos. It takes me approximately an hour and ten minutes to get from my piso to the chalkboard, depending heavily on syncing my step with the timing of the trains.
This overcast day isn’t the best for capturing attractive photos, but the gray of the skies isn’t a wholly inaccurate reflection of the swathes of sidewalk. Tres Cantos really is this quiet. It’s a tricky thing to describe without tagging on extra implications – do we call it tranquil or desolate, sleepy or peaceful? – and as such I’ll leave it at some facts:
– Tres Cantos is the newest municipality in all of Spain. It’s a planned township, commissioned by Franco’s folks back in 1971; inhabitants began strolling its streets a decade later.
– Tres Cantos is a sister city to the planned cities of Columbia, Maryland, United States, Cergy-Pontoise, France, and Nejapa, El Salvador. Students can take advantage of international exchange programs between them.
– Tres Cantos is the area with the highest percentage of residents with a university-level education in all of Spain. I’ve been informed that this merited an entry in the Guinness Book of World Records, but can’t find any evidence to support the claim.
It’s a healthy 20-minute walk from the Renfe Cercanias train station to el Instituto José Luis Sampedro, which isn’t excessive but does leave something to be desired on the days I opt for heels. Investigations into patinetes are being made.
Schools in Spain differ wildly from the comparatively hyper-decorated American equivalents. They are built for utility, and the students stay in one assigned space with others of their year while the teachers relocate each hour. As such, both classrooms and hallways are strikingly bare to my American eyes, although peacocking in both clothing and behavior of rowdy students during breaks fills the space much more than the above photo might suggest.
Due to difficulty in pinning down a workable schedule for the year – merely considering addressing the cobweb of influencing factors makes my head throb – I currently spend a good chunk of my time looking at doorknobs. No one is quite certain of our role here, least of all us, which does strike me as an odd contrast to the tenacity one has to have in order to be granted a Fulbright in the first place.
I have more gut reactions on this topic (ha, when don’t I have something to say?), but will save them up for a few weeks in order to be able to paint a richer “what-it’s-like” scene.
Laura – my Fulbright co-auxiliar – and I do manage to gain entrance to a select few class sessions. Pictured above is our coordinator, Rachel, and her group of Primer ESO students, which in the American system would translate to 7th grade. These kids have been in a bilingual program their whole lives, and as such have very high levels of comprehension and speaking.
Today, they discuss homework reviewing the parts of speech. Their vocabulary is excellent; Rachel drops in the term “phoneme” without anyone missing a beat.
The final third of the period is dedicated to introducing new vocabulary for a poem the students will learn. Rachel requests that Laura and I depict the underlined terms in picture form on the board, which is not the simplest task in chalk given ideas like “wrestle” and “tickle me pink.” The students are asked to copy down (!) our artists’ renditions of the terms, and then everybody matches drawings with words.