One, two, go!
1. Last weekend I went to my first Rotary Inbound Orientation. I met 31 other exchange students from the following countries: Denmark, Germany, Japan, Thailand, Taiwan, the U.S., Mexico, Colombia, and Argentina. We spent Friday afternoon through Sunday morning in an exquisitely scenic farm/hotel. I felt like I was at summer camp. (I've never actually been to summer camp, but I imagine it to be just like my Rotary Orientation.) We swam, went horseback riding, played soccer, learned some funky dance moves, ate food, and spent a lot of down time getting to know each other. The fact that we all share similar circumstances makes us exchange students become fast friends. I dig that.
2. I had my first real tennis lesson on Wednesday, but I'm not going to tell you about that. I'm going to tell you about the event preceding it. Long story short, my neighbor's mother offered to pay for my membership to the club in exchange for English lessons. My heart skipped a beat when I heard the offer! Of course I accepted her proposal, but I felt kind of guilty taking money from a generous woman, in exchange for work that I knew I would enjoy. But after thinking about it for awhile, I discovered a new perspective. After recalling a day in the first week of my exchange when she told me how badly she wanted to learn English, I began to realize how lucky I was to have been born in an English-speaking country, and that I might as well share my good fortune with anyone who shows interest. The biggest reason why I know that I'm going to enjoy this experience, is that she is truly eager to learn.
Everybody in Brazil wants to learn English. I don't know exactly why, but I have some theories. My host dad told me that whenever an American businessperson comes to Brazil, the negotiations are done in English, not Portuguese. The ability to speak English gives people a leg up in workplace. Even our Rotary Orientation which featured students from nine different countries was conducted in English. However, I also think there is something about the language that just captures people's interest. Barbara's mom doesn't need English for any vocation, she simply wants to learn for her own enjoyment -- which, in my opinion, is an excellent reason.
I like our agreement because it’s mutually altruistic. ‘I’ll scratch your back if you scratch mine.’ It’s a perfect system. My neighbor isn’t asking me to be forever indebted to her. Although I absolutely consider what she’s doing to be a favor, (tennis lessons are not cheap), I still maintain the fact that she presented to me the opportunity to ‘earn my keep.’ Everybody likes to feel useful, and I’m no different.
Before I came to Brazil, I entertained the notion that later in my life I might want to teach English as a second language, to young children in unfortunate areas. I have friends and family who have taught in other countries, and it seems like the kind of job that would both open doors for other people and give me a lot of personal satisfaction. Teaching my neighbor will give me incredibly useful 'hands on' experience. If my first pupil ends up succeeding with the language, I will have the confidence to pursue this kind of endeavor in the future.
It was a good week.
If anyone knows anything about teaching English as a second language, please email me at frankiej84@hotmail.com. I have ideas about which direction I will take, but I am very, very open to suggestions. Thank you very much for reading.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Monday, August 9, 2010
The One That Got Away
If you were paying attention to structure, you might have noticed that I left the third prong of my most recent post, Catching Up: Family, Food, School, and Sports. Obviously I meant to include a description of my school, but unfortunately what I had written did not save. I was in a hurry when I rewrote the ending of the post and clicked the "Publish Post" button, so I did not notice the omission. Here is the belated, extended version of prong number three: School.
School in Brazil is different. The schedule, the classes, the building, and the people are all unlike anything I'm used to.
I would estimate there to be approximately 600 students in my school. There are three grades, primera, segunda, and tercera: sophomores, juniors, and seniors. Students are assigned a single classroom where they spend the whole school day, 7:15 a.m. to 12:30 p.m., save biweekly lab periods and twice daily 15 minute breaks. I think each grade has three classrooms. The teachers rotate from class to class, and every student in each homeroom takes the same lessons: physics, chemistry, biology, math, Portuguese, English, history, geography, literature, and philosophy. English is the only class where I understand what is going on, but in the other classes I feel that I'm picking up words and phrases and improving my Portuguese ear.
My first day of school was the first day of second semester, and I was overwhelmed by how rambunctious the students were. Imagine 60 sixteen year olds being told to sit still on the first day of school after a month-long break.................................. Yes. That's exactly what it's like. With classes being in the form of lecture, even though the teachers were very enthusiastic about their subjects, they still struggled for respect. They practically had to implore the class to pay attention. During the first week, students felt completely comfortable talking loudly, listening to their headphones, texting, and throwing balls of paper at one another. On the first day I remember thinking that even Albus Dumbledore would have his hands full trying to keep these kids in line. But in the two weeks that have passed, a girl has been asked to leave the class for talking, and a boy's iPod has been taken away from him. I think this discipline has helped calm things down because now it feels like at least some people are learning.
Except in English class. Last week, we had a 'discussion' about AIDS and the legalization of marijuana, in English. As interesting as those subjects would appear to be from the perspective of high school students, the class still felt no reason to appease the desperate teacher's wishes. No one really wanted to talk to her in English. But as an analytical, opinionated, English-speaker, I was happy to share my thoughts with her. She told me that I was her favorite student, then asked me if her English was 'good enough.' I told her that it was not my place to be the judge of that.
It's difficult for me to describe the uniquely structured building in which I attend class each day. The front of the school has doors, but the back does not. There are three floors shaped like horseshoes, and the classrooms are on the outer edge of the semi-oval. In the middle of the bottom floor is the foyer, a slowly escalating ascent towards the 'back' of the school. If you walk far enough, you will pass through an opening forty yards wide and end up outside, near a playground and a fenced gym area. Next to 'outside' are two staircases that take you to the second and third floors. In the upper floors, there is nothing in the middle of the 'horseshoe.' There is a ledge that allows any viewer to look across to the opposite side, or down to the bottom foyer area. If I ever figure out how to post pictures on this blog, I will show you a better description of the school.
During break time of the second week, an acoustic guitarist/singer performed, as did a student rock band, in the foyer. They mostly played American music, songs like Seven Nation Army, Are You Gonna Be My Girl, Your Body is a Wonderland, and others that I don't remember. Some musician friends, in need of a singer, asked me if I sung or played any instruments. I told them I was still a novice guitar player, but I could sing. So in the near future I might be performing with a band during break.
I really like going to school each day, not because the classes thrill me, but because I'm meeting loads of new people (as well as kissing lots of girls on their cheeks, standard form for introducing oneself). It's not difficult to be an exchange student here because everyone is so welcoming. They are very patient with me when I speak Portuguese, and they talk slowly when I ask them to, so it's easy to make friends.
To me, learning a second language and meeting new people are both exciting things. And unlike many other things that are exciting at first, I highly doubt that this will ever get boring.
Thanks for reading, and as always, there will be more to come.
School in Brazil is different. The schedule, the classes, the building, and the people are all unlike anything I'm used to.
I would estimate there to be approximately 600 students in my school. There are three grades, primera, segunda, and tercera: sophomores, juniors, and seniors. Students are assigned a single classroom where they spend the whole school day, 7:15 a.m. to 12:30 p.m., save biweekly lab periods and twice daily 15 minute breaks. I think each grade has three classrooms. The teachers rotate from class to class, and every student in each homeroom takes the same lessons: physics, chemistry, biology, math, Portuguese, English, history, geography, literature, and philosophy. English is the only class where I understand what is going on, but in the other classes I feel that I'm picking up words and phrases and improving my Portuguese ear.
My first day of school was the first day of second semester, and I was overwhelmed by how rambunctious the students were. Imagine 60 sixteen year olds being told to sit still on the first day of school after a month-long break.................................. Yes. That's exactly what it's like. With classes being in the form of lecture, even though the teachers were very enthusiastic about their subjects, they still struggled for respect. They practically had to implore the class to pay attention. During the first week, students felt completely comfortable talking loudly, listening to their headphones, texting, and throwing balls of paper at one another. On the first day I remember thinking that even Albus Dumbledore would have his hands full trying to keep these kids in line. But in the two weeks that have passed, a girl has been asked to leave the class for talking, and a boy's iPod has been taken away from him. I think this discipline has helped calm things down because now it feels like at least some people are learning.
Except in English class. Last week, we had a 'discussion' about AIDS and the legalization of marijuana, in English. As interesting as those subjects would appear to be from the perspective of high school students, the class still felt no reason to appease the desperate teacher's wishes. No one really wanted to talk to her in English. But as an analytical, opinionated, English-speaker, I was happy to share my thoughts with her. She told me that I was her favorite student, then asked me if her English was 'good enough.' I told her that it was not my place to be the judge of that.
It's difficult for me to describe the uniquely structured building in which I attend class each day. The front of the school has doors, but the back does not. There are three floors shaped like horseshoes, and the classrooms are on the outer edge of the semi-oval. In the middle of the bottom floor is the foyer, a slowly escalating ascent towards the 'back' of the school. If you walk far enough, you will pass through an opening forty yards wide and end up outside, near a playground and a fenced gym area. Next to 'outside' are two staircases that take you to the second and third floors. In the upper floors, there is nothing in the middle of the 'horseshoe.' There is a ledge that allows any viewer to look across to the opposite side, or down to the bottom foyer area. If I ever figure out how to post pictures on this blog, I will show you a better description of the school.
During break time of the second week, an acoustic guitarist/singer performed, as did a student rock band, in the foyer. They mostly played American music, songs like Seven Nation Army, Are You Gonna Be My Girl, Your Body is a Wonderland, and others that I don't remember. Some musician friends, in need of a singer, asked me if I sung or played any instruments. I told them I was still a novice guitar player, but I could sing. So in the near future I might be performing with a band during break.
I really like going to school each day, not because the classes thrill me, but because I'm meeting loads of new people (as well as kissing lots of girls on their cheeks, standard form for introducing oneself). It's not difficult to be an exchange student here because everyone is so welcoming. They are very patient with me when I speak Portuguese, and they talk slowly when I ask them to, so it's easy to make friends.
To me, learning a second language and meeting new people are both exciting things. And unlike many other things that are exciting at first, I highly doubt that this will ever get boring.
Thanks for reading, and as always, there will be more to come.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Catching Up: Family, Food, School, and Sports
Thus far my stay in Brazil has been excellent. I live with a great family, love the food, look forward to school each morning, and have found a new athletic hobby. No, it's not water polo.
As I mentioned earlier, my family consists of an electrical engineer father, a stay at home mom, a 18 year old brother, and a 16 year old sister. My brother Pedro and I have much in common. We both love music. On my second night in Londrina, Pedro showed me some blues technique on the acoustic guitar and I found out that he also plays blues harmonica. When I heard him play the harmonica, I thought of playing 'Groove Merchant' with the CHS Jazz band, and I instantly regretted not bringing my alto saxophone. I don't think I know anyone who can successfully read and play music on the harmonica, so my ears were dazzled when they discovered that Pedro was an accomplished harmonicist.
I have previously mentioned that Pedro is a former exchange student. When he was 16, he went to Denmark. He speaks four languages: Portuguese, English, Danish, and Spanish. I believe he also understands Norwegian and Swedish. With all of these common interests, I was not surprised to find out that Pedro and I have similar opinions about religion.
My host sister, Maria Luisa (i.e. Malu) is polishing her French before her exchange to Belgium. Awhile back, her parents bought her a guitar, but she never learned how to play. This is very convenient for me because she is letting me borrow her guitar for the rest of my exchange. I like Malu. She's very nice. Even though she and I don't share the same common interests that Pedro and I do, we get along very well during the time we spend together before, during, and after school.
My host mother, Marizelia, is adorable. She is very cheerful and cooks wonderful Brazilian food. She doesn't speak any English, and I really like the fact that during each meal, she addresses me and slowly asks me questions or explains things to me in Portuguese. That is the best way for me to learn the language.
My host father, Nelson, is an electrical engineer. He is very friendly to me and likes to keep me in the loop. I appreciate that. On Monday he gave me a tour of the city. But during the car ride I decided that I think he also likes to practice his second language on me. He speaks English to me in situations where it's not always necessary. Sometimes he points to things and calls them their English name. I proceed to repeat what he said with the intent to memorize the name of the object at which he pointed, in Portuguese. He then repeats what he originally said, again in English, and at that point I realize that he was speaking English the whole time. I only thought it was Portuguese because of his accent. So at this point, he has successfully taught me what something is called in English. In a situation like that, my biological father would probably say, "Good to know, Jake."
I realize that it would be a good idea for me to simply ask Nelson to speak to me in English less often and that blogging about it won't help me at all, but blogging is so much fun! And actually, during lively mealtime discussions his translations are helpful. So for the record, I'm not complaining; I'm observing.
Speaking of food...
To those of you who were worried that I might have trouble adjusting to Brazilian cuisine and starve to death: have no fear. I think I'll be okay. Authentic Brazilian food is amazing, and Marizelia is an artist in the kitchen. In addition to eating great food, the eating schedule is also worth mentioning. They've got it down to a science!
Brazilian breakfasts are light. I eat an apple, a banana, and some buttered bread each morning. Lunch, the main meal, is when things get serious. It goes down at 12:45, right after school, and usually it consists of a meat dish, chicken or steak, rice and beans, salad, cooked vegetables: corn, tomatoes, onions, green and red peppers, and sometimes potatoes. There is always enough food for me to go back for seconds, and thirds (if I have room). I mustn't forget that the food is always fresh. I think the corn I ate for lunch the other day was better than any corn I've ever had in Minnesota. The salad is very simple: a type of lettuce leaf that I don't know the name of, tomatoes, and a little oil and vinegar. But don't forget, the food is fresh, never frozen! It's great. I'll post a picture of it sometime.
Supper is a smaller meal, and it consists of tasty bread, cheese, pasta, and sometimes meat. A common dish is called pao de quejo, any kind of baked or fried bread, stuffed with cheese. One of my favorites is called pastel, a deep fried pasta stuffed with cheese or beef. Evening food reminds me of being at the county fair. The fried bread is that good.
I've been doing my best to keep busy after school. I have spent two afternoons at the local athletic club with a neighbor/classmate/future exchange student, her brother, and her brother's friend. In that group, I am the only person who is not an experienced tennis player. The other three have taken lessons for multiple years, and before this week, I had barely ever even picked up a racket. Yesterday at the club, I was told by the instructor to hit the ball against the wall to myself to get the hang of things, while the other three had a proper lesson. But afterward, Barbara and Leandros gave me an informal tennis crash course. We practiced the forehand, backhand, volley, and service.
Although at times I am a little bored, It would be selfish of me to expect anything more from Brazil. I like the people, I'm making progress with the language, I feel that the Rotary Program helped me become prepared to be here, and now it's time to go out there and live. Thanks for reading, and feel free to email me with any questions.
Tchau
As I mentioned earlier, my family consists of an electrical engineer father, a stay at home mom, a 18 year old brother, and a 16 year old sister. My brother Pedro and I have much in common. We both love music. On my second night in Londrina, Pedro showed me some blues technique on the acoustic guitar and I found out that he also plays blues harmonica. When I heard him play the harmonica, I thought of playing 'Groove Merchant' with the CHS Jazz band, and I instantly regretted not bringing my alto saxophone. I don't think I know anyone who can successfully read and play music on the harmonica, so my ears were dazzled when they discovered that Pedro was an accomplished harmonicist.
I have previously mentioned that Pedro is a former exchange student. When he was 16, he went to Denmark. He speaks four languages: Portuguese, English, Danish, and Spanish. I believe he also understands Norwegian and Swedish. With all of these common interests, I was not surprised to find out that Pedro and I have similar opinions about religion.
My host sister, Maria Luisa (i.e. Malu) is polishing her French before her exchange to Belgium. Awhile back, her parents bought her a guitar, but she never learned how to play. This is very convenient for me because she is letting me borrow her guitar for the rest of my exchange. I like Malu. She's very nice. Even though she and I don't share the same common interests that Pedro and I do, we get along very well during the time we spend together before, during, and after school.
My host mother, Marizelia, is adorable. She is very cheerful and cooks wonderful Brazilian food. She doesn't speak any English, and I really like the fact that during each meal, she addresses me and slowly asks me questions or explains things to me in Portuguese. That is the best way for me to learn the language.
My host father, Nelson, is an electrical engineer. He is very friendly to me and likes to keep me in the loop. I appreciate that. On Monday he gave me a tour of the city. But during the car ride I decided that I think he also likes to practice his second language on me. He speaks English to me in situations where it's not always necessary. Sometimes he points to things and calls them their English name. I proceed to repeat what he said with the intent to memorize the name of the object at which he pointed, in Portuguese. He then repeats what he originally said, again in English, and at that point I realize that he was speaking English the whole time. I only thought it was Portuguese because of his accent. So at this point, he has successfully taught me what something is called in English. In a situation like that, my biological father would probably say, "Good to know, Jake."
I realize that it would be a good idea for me to simply ask Nelson to speak to me in English less often and that blogging about it won't help me at all, but blogging is so much fun! And actually, during lively mealtime discussions his translations are helpful. So for the record, I'm not complaining; I'm observing.
Speaking of food...
To those of you who were worried that I might have trouble adjusting to Brazilian cuisine and starve to death: have no fear. I think I'll be okay. Authentic Brazilian food is amazing, and Marizelia is an artist in the kitchen. In addition to eating great food, the eating schedule is also worth mentioning. They've got it down to a science!
Brazilian breakfasts are light. I eat an apple, a banana, and some buttered bread each morning. Lunch, the main meal, is when things get serious. It goes down at 12:45, right after school, and usually it consists of a meat dish, chicken or steak, rice and beans, salad, cooked vegetables: corn, tomatoes, onions, green and red peppers, and sometimes potatoes. There is always enough food for me to go back for seconds, and thirds (if I have room). I mustn't forget that the food is always fresh. I think the corn I ate for lunch the other day was better than any corn I've ever had in Minnesota. The salad is very simple: a type of lettuce leaf that I don't know the name of, tomatoes, and a little oil and vinegar. But don't forget, the food is fresh, never frozen! It's great. I'll post a picture of it sometime.
Supper is a smaller meal, and it consists of tasty bread, cheese, pasta, and sometimes meat. A common dish is called pao de quejo, any kind of baked or fried bread, stuffed with cheese. One of my favorites is called pastel, a deep fried pasta stuffed with cheese or beef. Evening food reminds me of being at the county fair. The fried bread is that good.
I've been doing my best to keep busy after school. I have spent two afternoons at the local athletic club with a neighbor/classmate/future exchange student, her brother, and her brother's friend. In that group, I am the only person who is not an experienced tennis player. The other three have taken lessons for multiple years, and before this week, I had barely ever even picked up a racket. Yesterday at the club, I was told by the instructor to hit the ball against the wall to myself to get the hang of things, while the other three had a proper lesson. But afterward, Barbara and Leandros gave me an informal tennis crash course. We practiced the forehand, backhand, volley, and service.
Although at times I am a little bored, It would be selfish of me to expect anything more from Brazil. I like the people, I'm making progress with the language, I feel that the Rotary Program helped me become prepared to be here, and now it's time to go out there and live. Thanks for reading, and feel free to email me with any questions.
Tchau
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Flight, Family, and Fun
I was more than shocked to find out that my host dad was giving me a golden cufflink that once belonged to his father.
"Muito obrigado!" (Thank you very much!)
Why is he giving this to me? This makes absolutely no sense. I'm not his actual son. Why not give it to Pedro?
Silly foreigner, he's not giving it to you; he's showing it to you! After a day and a half with my new family, I finally had a really awkward miscommunication.
"Oh, yeah. That's more logical than my first interpretation," I mumbled in English. I doubt he heard me, but he probably understood that I felt stupid.
It does not seem like very much time has elapsed since I last saw my friends. The difficult goodbyes of Wednesday are over. But since my going-away-party, much has happened. I flew to Brazil, got lost, got found, and spent some quality time with my host family.
I woke up Thursday morning with a fever. Eventually, I took some ibuprofin and the fever subsided. That night my immediate family gathered in Chaska with my sister Sarah and my brother-in-law Mark (who is now on Facebook) for a last family meal before I departed.
Friday morning I stumbled off Sarah and Mark's couch with a fever, a sore back, and a sore throat. Luckily, I surround myself with the right people. My sister is a P.A. so she hooked me up. My mom drove me to the OBGYN Clinic (Spanish for a medical place that only serves women) and Sarah gave me a quick strep throat test. It came back positive, which really is negative, and she prescribed me some Penicillin. We picked it up, filled out a survey, got a free Powerade, and went to the airport. Efficiency!
I flew to Atlanta and then to Brasilia with three girls who looked after me. Once I was on my own, things escalated. I said goodbye in Brasilia, and my next stop was Sau Paulo. I made it there, like a champ, and boarded my next flight to Londrina. Or so I thought. Apparently we were making a pit stop in a city 600 kilometers from my destination. The ticket said we were dropping people off, but honestly, who reads tickets? To exascerbate the minor problem, I was sleeping during the flight and felt groggy during the landing announcements, and I spectacularly missed the message. I got off the plane, went to get luggage with another Rotary exchange student from Vermont, and eventually concluded that my luggage wasn't there. Go figure.
"Your luggage is in Londrina, where you're supposed to be," said the friendly Brazilian airport worker.
"Uff da. I thought this was Londrina."
After saying goodbye to Emma, I followed the Brazilian to a port where he told another worker my situation. The worker got me a new flight for 17:00, five hours later. For some reason when he told me the time of my next flight, I thought he said 'in eleven hours' which was totally not cool. Luckily, it was really only five hours.
My next task was to call my host family and inform them that there was a change of plans. I asked another worker for help; he figured out the pay phone for me (I didn't have Brazilian change) and he dialed the number I gave to him. My host sister, Maria Luisa answered and said some gibberish in Portuguese that I couldn't understand. I gave the phone to the airport worker, he explained everything to her, and the matter was settled.
After a five hour wait and a 45 minute flight, my plane landed, and I watched the sun set behind the skyline of Londrina. It was beautiful. My host family met me at the airport, and it was time to go home.
Finalmente!
As you can see, flights don't always go as planned, and language barriers are funny.
Thanks for reading. I still have much more to tell, but not right now. I have school in the morning.
Beijos
"Muito obrigado!" (Thank you very much!)
Why is he giving this to me? This makes absolutely no sense. I'm not his actual son. Why not give it to Pedro?
Silly foreigner, he's not giving it to you; he's showing it to you! After a day and a half with my new family, I finally had a really awkward miscommunication.
"Oh, yeah. That's more logical than my first interpretation," I mumbled in English. I doubt he heard me, but he probably understood that I felt stupid.
It does not seem like very much time has elapsed since I last saw my friends. The difficult goodbyes of Wednesday are over. But since my going-away-party, much has happened. I flew to Brazil, got lost, got found, and spent some quality time with my host family.
I woke up Thursday morning with a fever. Eventually, I took some ibuprofin and the fever subsided. That night my immediate family gathered in Chaska with my sister Sarah and my brother-in-law Mark (who is now on Facebook) for a last family meal before I departed.
Friday morning I stumbled off Sarah and Mark's couch with a fever, a sore back, and a sore throat. Luckily, I surround myself with the right people. My sister is a P.A. so she hooked me up. My mom drove me to the OBGYN Clinic (Spanish for a medical place that only serves women) and Sarah gave me a quick strep throat test. It came back positive, which really is negative, and she prescribed me some Penicillin. We picked it up, filled out a survey, got a free Powerade, and went to the airport. Efficiency!
I flew to Atlanta and then to Brasilia with three girls who looked after me. Once I was on my own, things escalated. I said goodbye in Brasilia, and my next stop was Sau Paulo. I made it there, like a champ, and boarded my next flight to Londrina. Or so I thought. Apparently we were making a pit stop in a city 600 kilometers from my destination. The ticket said we were dropping people off, but honestly, who reads tickets? To exascerbate the minor problem, I was sleeping during the flight and felt groggy during the landing announcements, and I spectacularly missed the message. I got off the plane, went to get luggage with another Rotary exchange student from Vermont, and eventually concluded that my luggage wasn't there. Go figure.
"Your luggage is in Londrina, where you're supposed to be," said the friendly Brazilian airport worker.
"Uff da. I thought this was Londrina."
After saying goodbye to Emma, I followed the Brazilian to a port where he told another worker my situation. The worker got me a new flight for 17:00, five hours later. For some reason when he told me the time of my next flight, I thought he said 'in eleven hours' which was totally not cool. Luckily, it was really only five hours.
My next task was to call my host family and inform them that there was a change of plans. I asked another worker for help; he figured out the pay phone for me (I didn't have Brazilian change) and he dialed the number I gave to him. My host sister, Maria Luisa answered and said some gibberish in Portuguese that I couldn't understand. I gave the phone to the airport worker, he explained everything to her, and the matter was settled.
After a five hour wait and a 45 minute flight, my plane landed, and I watched the sun set behind the skyline of Londrina. It was beautiful. My host family met me at the airport, and it was time to go home.
Finalmente!
As you can see, flights don't always go as planned, and language barriers are funny.
Thanks for reading. I still have much more to tell, but not right now. I have school in the morning.
Beijos
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