Introductions

After my brief and harried introduction to Poltava Transportation, I began gearing up for my next hurdle: first day in a college classroom. I was going to have my first classroom experience just a few short days after my trolley lesson, so I made a trial run of getting there by myself the day before I was supposed to be there.

Although Poltava is not a large town, by any means, it does take a while to learn one’s way around. After having lived here for a while, I realize how straightforward most of the city is laid out. However, when I had only lived here for a few days, Poltava seemed to be a labyrinth of scariness.

I carefully counted bus stops and turns between my bus stop and my destination. Because my only exposure to this route had occurred at night, I was unable to recognize the physical landmarks or the names of the bus stops (which didn’t really matter because the stops are not labeled) and was forced to rely on counting stops. I made it successfully to the university, walked around for a few minutes, and then tried to determine how to get back home. I couldn’t locate where the bus stop on the other side of the street was. I walked around, like a lost tourist, for quite a while before I followed a crowd of people who led me to the stop. By the time I made it home, I was thoroughly overwhelmed with the experience, sounds, pushing, shoving, and fast-paced nature of the whole process. However, I had made it there and back.

The following day, I was all full of butterflies and sick feelings. It was to be my very first day in one of the universities, and I had no idea what to expect. There really is something quite dreadful about being alone and terrified; you might be just as terrified if someone else is with you, but at least you can share your terror. I gave myself a pep talk in the mirror next to my door before I headed out. I’m sure it looked funny, but again, I was alone, so who was going to make fun?

I made it to the university, and (after wandering around the corridors for ten minutes, feeling lost and despairing) I found the Director of Language’s office. She bustled me off to a class that was already in session, causing me to feel flustered and awkward. The professor seated me at the head of the class and introduced me. I felt very awkward an unprepared, having thought I would be observing. The professor immediately began peppering me with questions, encouraging the students to jump in. I proceeded to answer questions about myself, my life, my university, my family, and American politics for the next 45 minutes. It was my first experience in fielding questions about which way I vote, how much I make, and how much I pay for my apartment.

The professor did, eventually, redirect attentions from me to the lesson at hand. She passed me a copy of the textbook so that I could follow along. While the students- who happened to be a group of students who study all of their lessons in English, rather than Ukrainian- read from the book and answered questions provided by their professor, I sneaked glances around the group at the table.

There were only about 8 or 9 students in the classroom, and most of them were girls. They all seemed to be so tall and thin. Most had long hair and were absolutely beautiful. The fashion seemed to be skin-tight, straight-legged jeans tucked into super-high heeled boots made from shiny plether. Shirts were flashy and tailored- no sign of a t-shirt in sight. I felt a little frumpy in my practical, flat books and my cardigan. Watching the students’ faces was interesting; I tried to guess what their families might be like and what kind of personalities they had. I also tried to guess which ones looked like they would have been my friends, had I been a fellow student.

I caught the eyes of a couple of the girls while I was making my inspections. We traded hesitant smiles, and I tried not to be creepy. I winked at one girl when she caught me, and she winked back, smiling. As I was so absorbed in my observations, I was caught off-guard when the professor asked me to read a section aloud.

I read a passage about international economics (that I did not understand at all) to the best of my ability. When I finished, they clapped.

“Beautiful. It sounded like music.” The professor asked the students if they agreed. I blushed. “Would you read some more?”

I read several more articles about economics and international management, enduring unwarranted compliments after each.

A moment before the bell rang, the professor encouraged the students to get to know me. She told them it would be wise of them to exchange cell phone numbers with me before leaving so that they could arrange to visit outside of class. She gave them a stern look and encouraged them to meet with me so that they could practice their English with a native speaker, especially one with so nice an accent.

The bell rang, and the class scattered. I was rather disheartened that no one seemed to want to get to know me. I turned to thank the professor, and when I turned towards the door, I saw the Girl who Winked staring at me.

“Hello. My name is Victoria. I would like to get your phone number. Would you like to have tea with myself and some of the other girls sometime?” She smiled and handed me a piece of paper on which to write my number.

“Oh…I’d love to! Thank you!” She smiled again and headed out.

A few hours later, back in my apartment, I got a phone call from Victoria. She invited me to meet at the central monument of Poltava with a group of girls from their class. We would go together to have tea. She had wasted no time in taking the professor up on her admonition. Little did I know that she would turn out to be one of my favorite people from my time spent in Ukraine.