So you know how I explained all about my first day in that other post? That was a complete joke compared to what I actually had to endure. Friday was by far the most difficult day of this exchange, and my life so far. Being the new kid is hard, whether you are in a different city, state, or country. And up to this point, I've never had to start over in a new place.
I walked up to my school at around 8:15, and the doors don't open until 8:20. There were hundreds of kids surrounding the doors, all in their different groups. I literally walked up, found a space to stand... And stood there. I walked in to my class a little late because here they don't actually have room numbers, they just expect you to know where you are going. Also, you don't get printed schedules, your tutora, which is pretty much a homeroom teacher, writes it on the board and you copy it. You have five different schedules, one for each day. On Friday, I got my schedule for Monday. On Monday, I got my schedule for Tuesday, and most of the time the schedules have mistakes, and again... They never have the room numbers. And if you are an estudiante de intercambio, exchange student, you will not have any idea where to go. I just kept asking different teachers, and finally after a few periods the kids in my class started to help me.
First I had lengua, which is Spanish class. I am learning the same curriculum as heritage speakers, now that is overwhelming. I tried to keep up, but even my eleven years of Spanish had nothing on a teacher speaking for fifty minutes at the speed of light. It is beyond frustrating to not even be able to fill out a simple contact information worksheet about my family. The teacher had to pull up a chair and explain everything in very slow detail, everyone else just kind of stared. Then I had English, and I thought "YES! Now everything will be reversed, I will understand everything." it is no overstatement to say that there was not one word of English spoken the entire period. After that class, we had twenty minutes of recreo, which is just like a recess where you can leave campus and eat and hang out with friends.
Then we went back to class, and I swear to god it was the answer to all of my prayers. Apparently, two times a week we have fifty minutes of study hall! It was great, and because we didn't have anything to study we just talked. At first, it was a little awkward because I had no idea what was going on as everyone pulled their chairs and desks into groups, while the teacher sat down and read a newspaper. Then my friend from the previous post, Diego, invited me to sit with his friends. It was so fun, and I really like his friends. We talked about the US, the differences in school, what classes we are all taking, and they answered all of my questions. Apparently Diego, Claudia, and I all have the same classes. Next, I had technical drawing. Finally, an easy class. I thought wrong. My Spanish vocabulary is not that extensive... So I understood absolutely nothing. But after class, Diego told the teacher that I was an exchange student and he was very understanding. I think I am really going to enjoy that class, and my teacher Javier (It is the most uncomfortable thing ever to call your teachers by their first names) seems like a great teacher. Then we had another recreo and I got to eat the sandwich that my mom made me. During that time, Diego translated everything that Javier had just said during technical drawing.
After recreo, I had math. I have always been good at math, but it doesn't come easy unless I am willing to work at it and if I have a teacher who is willing to work with me. Well, we were doing basic review, and I couldn't do it because the language was so difficult. The language is such a barrier, and any faith that I ever had in my language skills has completely disappeared. When I thought things couldn't get any worse, I walked into french class. When I first selected my classes, I thought I was selecting French 1, somehow I ended up in French 2. It is one thing to be asked a question in Spanish in front of the whole class, but to be yelled at in French.....? I wanted to just die. Then she started speaking Spanish just as fast, and my brain didn't register anything. She was speaking Spanish, in a French accent. I just nodded my head. Everyone kind of yelled at her, explaining I was from the US. Then, I had to explain that not only did I not know very much Spanish, I knew NO FRENCH, and i said it all in my broken version of Spanish. My friend Diego said he would help me switch out of that class ASAP. The teacher finished talking early... So she just let us leave. Like 10 minutes before school ended? It was great. Then I walked outside, met Emils, and we talked about our first day. He said he fell asleep four times, and got yelled at... Four times (haha, glad to know I'm not alone when I say the day was not very successful.)
On days like this, I lose sight of the reason why I chose to be four thousand miles away from my best friends and family in the first place. It is hard to accept that in the beginning I won't have any friends or at least no one to hang out with, but it is all just a part of the transition. Hopefully the friends will come as the language does. And even though right now school is the hardest thing in the world, it will get better, and easier. The more I work at it, the easier it will get. Again, same with the language. It is difficult and embarrassing, but I will improve. It has been two weeks since I left Alexandria, and It is so hard watching others sitting with their best friends at lunch, or eating dinner with their families. I definitely miss that, and while I am beyond content here, I miss everyone so much. It would have been so much easier to just be an eleventh grader at the school where I know everyone, the school where I know the language that the classes are being taught in, the school with printed schedules and room numbers, but I signed up for the good times, along with the bad. The beginning will be a constant struggle, but I don't regret my decision in moving for a second.
And on a more positive note, there is NO WAY it could get any worse from here!
And actually, my day got a lot better, almost instantly. When I got home from school, there was a package and a letter waiting for me. The letter was from one of my best friends, and the package was from my family. It was full of photos and things that my friends had given me before I left that I wasn't able to pack, flavor blasted goldfish (the jumbo size), arnold palmer mix, my straightener, blow dryer, curling iron, and then some school supplies. It was exactly what I needed after a rough day. Then that night my new family took me to their apartment on the beach. It was a beach on the northern coast, and It was beautiful. I can't even describe how relaxing it was, and the perfect end to my not so perfect first week of school.
I have definitely hit a rough patch with school, but it has only been two weeks. i have about forty two weeks to turn things around, and if you look at it that way than I'm sure I'll be back on my feet in no time!
"When life gets that much harder, it makes you that much stronger."
Words that I'm currently living by, thank you Carrie Underwood.
My first two weeks in Valladolid have been perfect. Last week I witnessed a student strike, which ended up not being at all what I expected. In America, the only thing we could ever fight for is better cafeteria food and shorter days. Nothing of actual importance. I was honestly very impressed with the student strikes. All across Spain, students are fighting for their rights, protesting against the government, because apparently there were education cuts made. I don't know the exact gist of things, but I do know that the spanish youth population was very enthusiastic about it all. We have already had 3 strike days in the past two weeks. And for the most part, the schools support it because it isn't the school the students are fighting, it is the government. It all has to do with the crisis, meaning this year there will be more strikes than normal. I heard a rumor that every Thursday until Christmas is a strike day? I love how this just happens in Spain, I could NEVER imagine this being possible in the US. 
