A Brief Story of Time

Having only recently completed 17 years of school in my life, I fashion myself something of an expert on the modern day classroom.  In elementary school there are posters lining the walls showing everything from a map of the world to multiplication tables to the different kinds of living things.  In middle school things change a bit--there are still posters, but they are more academic and less cartoony in nature: maybe the internal organs of the body or a border showing Pi to 300 digits.  In high school the rooms are much more subject-centric: a periodic table in the chemistry classroom, a poster for the Shakespeare festival in Stratford, campaign signs from elections dating back to Eisenhower.  In college there is usually very little: some pulldown maps or an advertisement or a semester abroad are among the only things you'll find in a university classroom.

One thing all of these rooms have, however, is a clock on the wall.  Any student will tell you that Einstein didn't really discover anything: anyone who has sat in a 78 degree math classroom on a beautiful May day already understands the theory of relativity: the time the minute hand takes to reach the next hash mark seeming to in a stroke double the length of recorded history, amorphous students splayed out on their desks begging silently for the class to be over... watching the clock is a time-honored tradition of the American student.

Not so in Spain.  As far as I can tell, not a single room in my school, with the probable exception of the principal's and secretary's offices, has a clock.  There isn't even a bell, except for one at the beginning and end of the day (which, well we are on the subject, is not so much a bell as an air raid siren that appears to be a relic of the Civil War) and to signify lunch break.  In between these events, time is largely a subjective notion: classes begin and end loosely on the hour, but it's really up to the teachers.  I've had classes start on the :20 and end on the :10.  For someone who has grown up in the regimented, time-driven schools of the US (and probably, although this is just a guess, much of the developed world), it's somewhat unnerving.

The lack of clocks in my Spanish classroom is a microcosm of the Spanish life in general and the Andalusian life in particular.  Everything--from governmental procedures to work days to walking--is done at a more relaxed level than life in the US.  Annoying?  Assuredly, at times, like when people need to get their temporary citizenship card and the man issuing them goes on coffee breaks every half-hour.  I also don't recommend trying to walk anywhere fast; it's an exercise in frustration.

On the other hand, there is something to be said for stopping and smelling the roses.  Indeed, one could argue that there is everything to be said for it.  I mentioned in a previous post that my host brother Joan is 26, doesn't have a job, and is living at home with his parents.  And yet no one, neither him nor them, are unhappy in the least with the arrangement.  One time, after comida, I was talking with them about the family and I asked them what Joan was doing in what I realized afterwards was a sort of conspiratorial undertone.  Rosa looked at me for a second and said, "¡hombre, está disfrutando la vida!" or, more colloquially (and in English), "he's living the dream!"  And who am I to argue?  Great food, free board and room (note the order) in a beautiful town on the Mediterranean, sees his girlfriend frequently; he clearly is living the dream.

Spain, while undeniably a first world country, is still not among the world leaders in commerce or economy.  Some experts have suggested that Spain's more relaxed lifestyle may play a part in their continued second-tier economic power status (and dropping).  To this I say: maybe they're right.  maybe they are slightly less rich and influential because their banks close at 2 (a tremendous annoyance, by the way) and they take a long break in the middle of the day.  BUT, but but but but, who cares?  They're enjoying themselves.  Who are we to tell them to speed up when we really need to slow down.