That Moment When I Felt As Though I'd Birthed 12 Children

Not physically, of course. Never physically. But mentally, emotionally, spiritually...heck yes.

As promised in my last post, here is my borderline-sappy and Stage Mom recount of Global Classrooms and how absolutely amazing my brilliant little superstar students did.

So, Global Classrooms, according to the U.N.'s website, is:

An innovative educational program that engages middle and high school students in an exploration of current world issues through interactive simulations and curricular materials...At the core of Global Classrooms is Model UN, wherein students step into shoes of UN Ambassadors and debate a range of issues on the UN agenda.

Last day of Global Classrooms before the conference!

That's the official spiel. The more basic description is that the program is Model UN in Spain. Since late September or early October (the days started to blend), the other Fulbrighter at my school and I have worked with thirteen (originally fourteen, but some people couldn't hang) students to help them prepare for the Global Classrooms Conference, in which they do a simulation of the UN and act as delegates for countries. 

Certain Fulbright Scholars (still not sure exactly how we're chosen for the job, but I'm pretty sure it has something to do with our application essays) are charged with coordinating and preparing our students for the conference. So, for the better part of four and a half months, we teach them how to become delegates. They're taught good writing habits, debating skills, and are tasked with creating ideas that could solve these problems if this were an actual U.N. delegation. If that sounds like a daunting task, please know that it's even worse than that. There were days when it seemed like my kids just didn't want to be there, which made teaching them difficult, and other days when I didn't know what I was doing and just knew that we were all up the creek without a paddle. However, onward we pressed.

In my defense, I told them what to expect during
the editing process.

So, months go by, I've butchered edited more papers than I care to remember, answered every question I thought I'd never be asked (and then some), shouted a little, taught a lot, gave some pep talks, and February 26 and 27 finally make their appearance...and what a day and a half it was.

Don't they look fabulous!

The Global Classrooms Conference lasts for only 1.5 days. The first portion is a half-day opening ceremony in which every power-that-be in the Comunidad de Madrid (see dictionary) gives a welcome speech to the kids and thanks the same five people...for about two hours. The highlight of that day was seeing my 12 babies all dressed up in their business attire. Please realize that Spanish teenagers aren't necessarily accustomed to the whole suit-tie, dress-that-doesn't-fit-like-a-second-skin look. I'm completely accustomed to seeing them in sweats, leggings, and rusty-looking Adidas. Indeed, the horrified looks on the faces of my girls when I showed them the length of an appropriate business dress/skirt was nothing less than disgusted and slightly faint. When my boys realized that they'd have to be constricted by a tie for a few hours, I saw a bunch of visibly-bobbing Adam's apples and hands already loosening non-existent ties. Whatevs, though; they survived and looked good.

So, Day 2 was that in which they actually put all of their hard work to use by discussing/debating in the actual U.N.simulation. And what a simulation it was! I was fortunate enough to be placed in the same room as two of my delegations, so I got to see them in action. One of the most important parts of the conference is getting placed at the top of the Speaker's List, which gives delegates the opportunity to give an opening speech (when the conference begins) or stand up and share their thoughts (later in the conference). It's a rat race to be the first delegation to raise your placard so that the Chair will place your name at--or near--the top of the list. My two delegations, Malaysia and Mauritania, were the first and third delegations on the list. Guess whose chest poked out with pride? And then who got a little weepy as soon as my Malaysia babies looked babies looked back at me with these huge smiles?

Malaysia

So, the time comes for Malaysia to start the conference off with their opening speech. They walked to the front of the room (with the appropriate attire on, which is more than I can say for other delegations) and owned it. Their speech was clear, concise, simple, appropriate in length, and gave a great introduction of who they were and the problems in their country. I. Was. So. Proud. They completely owned it. I was in the back of the room bawling my eyes out. It was like watching my children be crowned prom queen. After a few weepy minutes and a speech in between, it was Mauritania's turn...and I laughed. They were really great too, but one-half of Mauritania adores the spotlight and you could tell. When his partner finished his portion of the speech, Mr. Spotlight politely accepted the mic and completely preached until the buzzer got used on him just as he was wrapping up. He's one of those kids who makes you shake your head and roll your eyes in exasperated pride.

Can you tell which half of Mauritania loves the spotlight?

Since I was working in Malaysia and Mauritania's room, I primarily saw them in action. However, I did get to peek in and see my other four delegations, though I didn't get to hear any of their speeches. Whenever I did see them, they seemed to be engaged in deep discussion with other delegations, which made me ever the proud mama. However, running around worrying about them, trying to see if they were working well with others and making sure they weren't afraid or feeling intimidated left me feeling drained...much like a mother with 12 kids. When I heard that part of the Norwegian delegation was feeling intimidated and wasn't speaking, I almost passed out, especially since this kid was one of the sharpest students we had. After a pep talk from the other Fulbrighter at my school, however, he apparently started doing better.

So, the day finally, mercifully ends...kinda. We were shuttled by bus back to where we had the opening ceremony (two different locations nowhere near each other) for the closing remarks and awards. By Spanish standards, the closing remarks were brief. Again, this is by Spanish standards (they love to talk). Then, it's time for the awards portion, which I'm anticipating and dreading. We gave our kids the "it's not whether you win or lose, but how you play the game" speech, which sounded empty even to my ears. These kids worked their butts off for four months; they want an award, they earned awards, they deserved recognition. However, the reality is that every student there wanted, worked for, and deserved awards, but not all of the were going to receive one. The chairs of the committees rise and give their little pep talks/speeches in which they, mostly recent college grads of no more than 25 years old, attempted to impart some wise tidbit upon kids that were barely a decade younger than them. Then, they finally put us all out of our misery and started calling the names of delegations for awards. The chair of the first committee in which two of my delegations were located calls her awards recipients...and none of those names are India of Finland. I glanced around at their faces and it was heartbreaking, on one hand, to see their faces fall. On the other hand, as a competitive person who's won as much as I've lost, I reminded myself that such is the way the chips fall. I decided to hold on to the latter thought, as it would prevent me from losing my poker face, since my school's Global Classrooms coordinator looked absolutely devastated and was, thus, useless.

Elated doesn't even describe their happiness.

The chair for the second committee, that of Malaysia and Mauritania, calls her awards recipients and puts us all out of our short-lived misery by awarding Malaysia the award for Honorable Mention for Best Delegation. School coordinator? Sobs. Kids? Scream. Co-Fulbrighter? Beaming with pride. Kids? Scream some more and completely forget how to walk downstairs. Me? Stage. Mom. I just wasn't expecting us to win anything (since I apparently didn't get the memo that each school would be awarded something) and was crafting my words of consolation for the kiddies in my mind. So, I let out a gleefully loud little shriek of surprise and elation. Snapped a ton of pictures...and silently let a few tears roll dramatically down my cheeks as I watched two of my twelve babies accept awards like a mama watching her children walk across the stage during a college commencement ceremony. Yeah. It was that deep.

I'll miss this.

My kids won their one award. We snapped a ton of photos. We all froze our butts off waiting for the bus the school had chartered to come pick the kids back up. My co-Fulbrighter and I went to the "after party" (socializing at a cute bar) for a few minutes. Then, after four-and-a-half-months of working, and 15.5 hours after I left my apartment, I returned and realized that Global Classrooms was finally over. It had been a much-anticipated moment and was a welcome realization but, in the midst of the relief and as sleep started to claim my body, the knowledge that I wouldn't get to see those wonderful, intelligent faces in our small group setting situated around our little table anymore was the most bittersweet moments of the entire experience.

What a roller coaster of a ride Global Classrooms was. Though there were a few bumpy--to say the least--times, it was nothing less than a humbling honor and beautiful privilege to have worked with those brilliant minds and will be, I'm sure, among the fondest memories of my time here in Spain.