There's a first time for everything

I opened the door to a standing ovation. Don Francisco smiled and then exclaimed, "Sientense!" from the front of the room, and twenty-five students, all clad in gray and crimson, fell silent and sat down. There was one free desk in the row closest to the door and I, with my nose down, made my way over. Then suddenly, as if I were not there at all, class began and proceeded as usual. While I had been able to converse pretty well with my host family, this was a whole new ball game. I had no idea what was going on, and what was worse, I had the wrong books so I couldn't even read along. Finally, class ended. Don Francisco (the students know him as Cicso) called me to the front of the room and introduced himself; "H-hi. I'm... Frank,". In Spanish, I replied "Mucho gusto", and look of outrage washed over "Frank's" face. "You mean you speak Spanish?" he asked me in his own tongue. "Claro!" I replied, a little confused. His face relaxed and I realized he was joking (I think), and he told me to go with the other girls. Just as I was about to ask which girls he meant, Carmen, a petite thing who wore the same skirt as me, though curiously shorter, heavy eyeliner and her long black hair in a half pony tail, grabbed my arm and said, "Come, eat with us!"

Relieved to have someone to go with during the meal break (remember, the Spanish eat five times a day), I tagged along with her and her friends as they headed for a cafe a block away from our school. As soon as we were out of the gates, she pulled out a lighter and asked me, "Quieres fumar?" A little shocked, I politely declined, and watched as each of the five girls pulled cigarettes out of their pockets. I decided not to judge them too harshly; after all, I didn't know anybody else, and this seemed to be the norm. We crossed the street and went into a cafe hazy with smoke. There, Carmen ordered me a small plate of fried meat topped with fluffy cheese, and kindly refused to let me pay. I was a little unsure about it, but I remembered one of Carson's rules: eat the food. So, I ate it. And consequently, I decided that the next day, I would try something else.

On the way back to school, one of the girls, Maria, told me that their grade was the one that organized all the parties and such. She said that on Saturday we were going out and that I should come too. It was the first time that day that I felt like I might have a chance at making some friends, and I was, inwardly, ecstatic.

We got back to el cole just in time for our next class: el inglés. I sat in a desk next to Carmen and Dona Maria passed out an article titled Washington DC: the White House. I perused the attached worksheet, bemused by the questions the students had to answer:

1) Which is the poorest state in America? (Answer: Mississippi)

2) What is the purpose of the East Wing? (Answer: reception area and office space)

3)What activities can be done in the gardens of the White House? (Answer: gardening, basketball, swimming, running.) *Dona Maria told the students to note that Michelle Obama has an organic garden.

I suppressed a giggle upon reading the last question, and I had to wonder why on earth they were learning this crap. I was an American, and I didn't even know the answers. A moment later, my patronizing thoughts were interrupted by Dona Maria pointing at a group of boys, saying, "Shutahp. Shuthap, shutahp, jou are actin like mowrons." I was a little shocked. But I remembered that here they have an entirely different approach to learning, and the teachers are entitled to treat a class as they will. And, in her defense, they had been throwing things at each other and using what sounded like a farm animal app on someone's iPhone.

The rest of the day was pretty similar: we would all stand when a teacher entered the room, sit when they told us, and then listen to them alternate between lecturing and reprimanding. At the end of class all the students would get up and mingle. During one of these short breaks between classes, a boy came up to me and asked me if I liked hamburgers. I knew it would happen eventually, but being associated with such a stereotype took me by surprise. I laughed, and answered, "no, no me gusta". Then I went back to observing everyone. They all seemed pretty comfortable with each other - a girl would playfully bonk another on the head, or maybe go up to a boy and casually kiss him on the cheek. It was definitely different.

Soccer, however, was pretty much the same. Except for the locker rooms. I left school at 6 pm, when Patricia and Natalia normally get out, and headed over to Navega, the soccer field. I briefly met the coaches before getting right into practice with the other girls. They were fast and had much better foot skills than me, but I recognized most of their drills and pretty much understood what to do. After practice, we all headed back to the locker rooms to get our things and leave. Or so I thought. As soon as the door was closed, I was in a room full of naked people. And they didn't seem to be in much hurry, either. They just sat around, talking, laughing, texting, stark naked. Allison, the other American exchange student practicing at Navega, shot me an awkward glance. Feeling too uncomfortable to strike up a conversation with any of the other girls, I shouted "Hasta mañana!" and made a b-line for the door.