I've been craving enchiladas

And making them is no easy feat here in Madrid.

For one thing, the Spanish do not eat spicy food. They think they do. They have chistorras and patatas bravas and chorizo but as yet I have not noticed these to be actually spicy (although they are tasty, especially the sausage products which I love!).

I have actually seen people give up on eating pepperoni pizzas here in Madrid. One woman waved her hand in front of her mouth and claimed it was "muy picante." Pepperoni. Is it even spicy? I've never noticed it to be. Another woman had to switch with her husband because she couldn't go through with the pizza. WTF?

I was not looking for wimpy spicy. I wanted full bodied Mexican spicy. And I knew I'd need to make it myself if I wanted anything that would make my mouth sing. So I went about trying to assemble the ingredients that would do the trick.

As usual, this was no mean feat. For one thing, it meant most of the necessary ingredients were going to need to be imported. I began with the basics: tortillas.

Tortillas are shockingly expensive here. You can get "taco kits" which are basically Old El Paso boxes that include the 1970s hard injection molded taco shells and taco powder (just add meat!) for about €7 ($10). But actual soft tortillas? Much more challenging. Finally I found some, several choices actually. And none of them good.

At home, I can buy a package of 20 four tortillas for about $2 (€1.50). Here I could get 8 tortillas for €2.65 ($4). Andt they were large tortillas (not the actual enchilada sized ones. And they fit the pan well (it's actually an awesome clay roasting pan and I absolutely love it!). But shit!

While were were there in the Mexican aisle (or section. a very, very small section) I browsed for what I could use for a sauce for my enchiladas (not being interested in making one from scratch) and was rewarded mightily with canned Herdez salsa casero which wasn't just something to settle for but which is actually a salsa I use at home! Score! But ouch! €2.75 ($4) for each 150ml can which at home would have been about $1.99 for a 500 ml jar.

Next, beans. Beans are not canned here. They are jarred. This is strange. I prefer my beans in a can. I don't know why. I guess I don't like them looking at me or something. Plus not all the beans are in the same place in the grocery store. So several trips down several aisles finally revealed red pinto beans. Two jars at €1.95 ($3) each.

Lastly, the part I had most been dreading: the cheese. Spain is famous for its cheese and well it should be. I've never had such tasty goat cheese, sheep's milk cheese or hard cured cheeses. What it does not have is cheddar. What to do? Well, you improvise. I found some packages of mixed gouda and cheddar which would melt well and I also used some semi cured cheese we had at home which was perfect since it was so much like a queso fresco. The shredded cheese and the cream cheese (which is amazing and has made me now crave bagels) was about €6 ($8.40)

Added to this were the very cheapest ingredients: 1 lime and 2 avocados purchased at the very last minute today and not quite ripe enough to make into guacamole. Astonishingly: €.90 ($1.25).

These were the most expensive enchiladas ever made. But I swear to you they were also the very most delicious! Thank God yesterday's meal (chicken in grapefruit cream sauce with saffron, mashed potatoes and salad) was a fraction of the cost!

here are things you cannot buy in the grocery stores in spain

I am finding that it is a little difficult to cook things I am used to cooking while here because there are certain things one cannot buy here that I am used to using and/or cooking with regularly. These are:

• bread crumbs
• cheddar cheese
• salsa
• cilantro
• fresh mozzarella
• salad dressing
• cake mix
• marshmallows (although you can get lots of marshmallow creations, none for your cocoa)

Today the Kid has asked for chicken cutlets (the chicken is the easy part) but with no bread crumbs I have had to improvise by crushing crackers into crumbs. This has been strangely exhausting. Especially with no food processor/blender to do it with, just my bare hands and a wine bottle for a rolling pin (picadillo later in the week hence the wine).

I've had a craving for enchiladas and have had to improvise with the cheese by using a combo of a semi-cured cheese not unlike a queso fresco and a gouda mix. but blocks of cheddar? no way. so I guess we're loading up at home and when we fly through Heathrow after we get the visas. Weird.

Back to School Night: Pwn or be Pwned

Last night was Back to School Night at The Kid's school. I wasn't sure what to expect but the beginning was standard 7th grade fare. Your kid is hitting puberty, this is a big transition from elementary school, your kid is going to have to be more responsible, there's much more work now, blah blah blah. Since we make kids go to middle school in 5th grade in our fair hamlet in the US, this has not been a transition at all for the Kid. If anything he moves from class to class less at San Isidro than he did at home. But it was clear that it's massively huge for the other kids since they have been in the same school since K and in fact have been in a single classroom every year with one teacher. Now they have 10 teachers etc. No big whoop for the Kid but I could see it making the other kids' heads spin.

The thing is that in the US at Back to School Night, one might meet the teachers, or get to understand the schedule or things like that. Not at this one.

This one was pwn or be pwned.

If you do not know my son, or the world of online gaming you might not know the term "pwn." It rhymes with "own." I encourage you to follow the link in the term to urbandictionary.com because I know no other term for what ensued once we headed to the homerooms with the tutor.

At San Isidro every class has a tutor. This is kind of like a homeroom teacher. Way back in the day when I taught 7th grade we had a period called TA (teacher advisory) which was a kind of cross between study skills, life skills, counseling, and study hall. I get the impression this is kind of the role of the tutor. When he's not teaching Lengua Castellana.

I liked the tutor. He reminded me of just about every high school and middle school teacher I'd ever taught with. I'd have put him in his late fifties to early 60s. I'd say he started teaching around 82. Back then the kids were easier and it wasn't a stressful job. Now the kids are hard and the parents are a pain in the ass. But he's not far from retirement and deep down he really likes the kids. But the parents? Joder!

So now we get to the pwning.

Apparently in the Spanish school system there is no such thing as privacy. We quickly learned which children were failing (apparently because they are foreigners) and who had attendance problems (but was a very well brought up girl). We learned that one boy was very disorganized and not doing his homework. The tutor just kind of busted out with this stuff. I was shocked. You would never EVER do this in the US. I mean never ever ever ever.

And then the parents started to pwn back. First it was the math teacher. And I have to confess that that man has done a shoddy fucking job of late. Last week he gave a math test, but since he doesn't follow the book (something several parents bitched about) which was rather expensive (shot out another) and never gives the kids practice or homework (yeah! I thought) just how were the kids supposed to know how to prepare or what would be on it. And then one child got a 2.5! Well no wonder! The teacher's not doing his job! the parents strenuously insisted. (Grades here are on a 10 point scale with a 5 being around a C and no one getting much about an 8 or so. However, The Kid has gotten a 9.5 on science and on the impossible math test where it would seem, many got in the 1-3 range, he got a 5.5, not bad having no idea what was on it!). The tutor agreed to speak with the math teacher.

Then the tutor (who I quite, quite like, btw) mentioned he had office hours and is happy to meet with parents if they have concerns. He is free on Thursdays from 11-12. This sent everyone into another uproar! Well they work! How can they come see him? This was outrageous! He agreed to make individual appointments as needed.

And then we moved onto PE. It seems that it's a recent phenomenon that PE has been made a class that people needed to pass. Apparently there has been a long history of PE dodging in Spain because this was a matter of quite some discussion.

The Kid, I should let it be known, detests PE. I mean he hates it with a red hot hate. And that's unusual. He adored PE and the PE teacher that I had been working with both at the school I was in last year and the one he was in last year. But this year has come with a fury I'd never seen in him when discussing a subject.

And it seems he was not alone.

Something needed to be done about PE. She is too much. A doctor's note every time a kid had to miss PE? the parents asked. You've got to be kidding. Well, explained the tutor, she's very strict. She's too mean. She's too strict. She's too hard on them. She yells. She makes them work to hard. And on it went.

Ricardo and I couldn't even look at each other. I wasn't sure if I was at a Back to School Night or if I was in some kind of first year teacher's worst nightmare of a Back to School Night.

I thought of the young English teacher whom I'd seen up front in the pitiful auditorium. The Kid, like all kids in our small burg at home, can smell a newbie a mile away and he'd mentioned the English teacher didn't know what she was doing. When I saw her arrive in the auditorium, the only one in a skirt, not jeans, clutching a shopping bag and looking nervous, I could sense the new on her too. I wondered how things were going for her in her room, if this was what was happening in the veteran's room.

Our tutor was taking it all like a pro. He knew the math teacher sucked and the gym teacher was a bitch. He knew that that would never change. He also knew these parents were hover parents (they have those here too!) and that they needed a reality check. And he knew the real transition this year, as in all middle schools everywhere, would be for the parents, not the kids. The kids would be fine.

After several parents got up in the middle of the conversation to leave, we went up to speak to the tutor. He was kind and caring and mentioned how hard (and nervous) the Kid was. We explained that he'd skipped a year as well as starting in Spanish for the first time ever. The tutor was impressed by his manners, the questions he asked and his work ethic. He wants the Kid to worry less. We do too. He's exactly what the Kid needs. And probably what they all need. And I found that I wished the other parents could see that too.

School in Spain

The Kid has been in school now for about three weeks and so he's into his routine. I thought I would share what it's been like because I know some of you have been curious/concerned about it. It's been an interesting experience and not at all what we'd expected or been led to believe would happen.

I'll begin with the review of what was going on before. The Kid, whose birthday (through no fault of his own) is a mere two days before Christmas (that's right, he is a Festivus Baby) should be in 6th grade in back at home. Had he been born in April when he was due this would be a moot point, but he was not, so it became an issue here. Apparently the age cut off here is December 31. This put him, not in 6th as it would have at home, but in 7th. In other words, instead of finishing primaria here, he would be starting the first year of secundaria.

The educational system of Spain works like this: you go to a prek-k thing. Then 1-6 is primary school. Then 7-10 is secondary school (with many students finishing at age 16). Then some go on to do their IB equivalent in 11 and 12 (also at the secondary school).

We were concerned because not only was The Kid going to be going to school suddenly in Spanish immersion (a language he speaks fairly well, but doesn't really read and write in) but he'd be skipping a grade of school in and would then be going into a high school on top of it. That seemed like a lot to do shortly upon moving to a brand new country.

And as it turned out, the school was a bilingual French and Spanish school. But the students were just starting French so he should be fine, right?

And so it began. Or it tried to. Out of the first three days, 7 periods had no teacher in them. The kids just sat there chatting unless a "guardia" (literally a guard) showed up to watch them. It turns out they had some staffing difficulties. But still there was a lot to look forward to. The school had just gotten a huge grant and had all new Promethean Boards (like SmartBoards) in every classroom, the kids were taking 3 hours of technology a week, Art, French, the geography text for social studies looked incredible (despite the European belief that North and South America are a single continent). This could be a good year. At least he would not be behind.

We'd feared what everyone had told us about how in math, Europeans were so far ahead of the US. Perhaps The Kid would need tutoring to catch up in math. But as we perused the math textbook, it became clear that he would learn absolutely nothing new in math until, maybe April or May. Basically the math he was doing here in 7th was what he did in an advanced 5th grade class last year. So, not a problem.

It became clear very quickly that asking questions and thinking about what you were learning about, much less challenging the teacher's opinions with your own, were no-nos. The students are expected to sit silently, listen to the teachers talk and write notes. Then they come home are read and answer questions. What they will do with the Promethean Boards, I have no idea.

And so we come to the "technology class." It seemed quite strange to me that The Kid had been in a technology class 3 times a week for a few weeks and never touched a computer. He explained to me that they were learning the difference between technology and technique. The Spanish love nothing more than tuna except maybe the process by which something happens, so this kind of made sense to me. He explained that before you could use any technology you had to know how to approach a problem (Ahhhh, how Spanish! I thought). And then I left it alone.

Then on Thursday, Ricardo had a lunch out with a friend and I took The Kid out for pizza (amazing!!! fresh fig, jamón iberico, and goat cheese). He asked if I could help him with some flash cards for his technology vocabulary. I've been doing this for him. I use PowerPoint to make animated, illustrated flashcards with a picture, the Spanish term and then the French term so that he can learn the words and their spelling (because he spells like Guaman Poma apparently). Sure, no problem.

Hey, I asked, when will you guys get to use computers? Well, he didn't know. But they might get to use hammers by December.

Hammers?! Huh???????

Well, it's a technology class, he explained.

Yeah, right. Like technology.

No he says, not like what we mean at home. like building stuff.

So......... shop class?

What's shop class? he asks

Like when you make birdhouses and mailboxes and stuff.

Like woodworking at Spectrum camp?

Yeah like that.

Yeah, that's technology here.

So, my son is spending 3 hours a week in a shop class. In a school with state of the art technology. Where the teacher just got a white board and apparently freaked out because she prefers chalk.

Yeah. School in Spain.