So, June...

As per my usual lazy updating, here's everything that's happened in June:

* School ended. It was less dramatic than the seniors leaving in May, since after all, I'll see 'em all again next year. It rained on the last day and the closing ceremony was held inside, broadcast over the intercom to each classroom. Overall, it was anticlimactic.

* I took part in my first-ever Érettségi (school-leaving exams). Wow. Just wow. I don't want to get started ranting about a system in which your final exam grades are based half on what you know and half on how kind your teacher is to you, so I'll just leave it at: wow.

* I started Hungarian lessons. I mean, for real this time. With an actual teacher, not a friend. It's bizarre - in a good way - how much Hungarian I realize I know when I'm forced to speak it twice a week. Then again, it's sad how little I know after three years here. Anyway, I have the vague idea that I'm going to take a magyar mint idegen nyelv exam in September. Or November...

* We went on a family road-trip. Tomi and family and I took a two-day trip across Hungary, packed into a small-ish, air-conditioning-less Volkswagen. The point of the trip was mainly to go to Sopron to see Tomi's 2nd graduation, the one to which families and all are invited, where they hand out the diplomas. Like all ceremonies in English and Hungarian, it was speech speech speech, clap clap clap, sit sit sit... so, boring. Although, this particular ceremony had it's own unique undercurrent of excitement, a story so unbelievably soap-opera-ish that I can hardly post it here (but buy me a beer and I'll regal you with all the gritty details).
Between the graduation and the endless driving, we also managed to squeeze in a bit of sightseeing in Sopron... pubs are sights, right? Plus, on the way back we took a detour down to Balaton and had the first swim of the year (cheap bathing suits and towels courtesy of Tesco). We got back pretty late on Wednesday night, but it was well worth it.

* I started ATC-making again. I would say, "pictures to come in the next post," but we all know that I won't post again for another month, so...

BEER

This picture (this product itself, really) inspired me too much to settle on just one caption:


Look, Mom, I'm drinking apple juice!

(sip) "What is this? It tastes like crap."
"It's not crap, it's beer; can't you read?"

The Polish are well-known for their creative product naming.

I saw this in my local corner shop and couldn't beer not to buy it...
and so on.

Graduations and Congratulations all around!

'Tis the season, I guess. In today's better-late-than-never post, three graduations in which I'd like to think I had some influence (despite only being at one in person...)


First up, the seniors at Varga, after finishing the ceremony in the school courtyard, march out armed with mountains of flowers, and proceed to parade through the city, while the other classes make a cordon and hold back (mostly unsuccessfully) crowds of parents and well-wishers.



Secondly (chronologically), Tomi's university graduation in Sopron. They also parade through the streets, but instead of flowers they hold torches. Since the parade is in the evening, I'm sure this is much more impressive...



Third and finally, a parade-and-cordon-less graduation for which I don't yet have a photo... (ahem). Congrats to my little brother Sam on finishing Mac. Not as good a school as Beloit.... but still.

Gratulálok mindenkinek! Congrats to all!

A Gun in my Classroom

It was March 14th, Friday, and the kids were just calming down after the midday assembly (honestly, who the hell decided that an assembly was needed in the middle of the day? Why not either beginning, or end? But no, it was smack dab between 5th and 6th lessons...). The assembly had consisted of the entire school gathering in the courtyard to listen to some supposedly-stirring-but-terribly-boring speeches and presentations about March 15th (a holiday in Hungary, commemorating another failed revolution).

So it was the 6th lesson, I'm trying to cram a full lesson into a shortened 30-minute period, and I look up to see 14 pairs of eyes on me, and two heads bent over something else in the back. "Boys," I say, not even remotely sternly. "What is that?"

Their heads come up, their hands as well, and in their hands, a gun.

I had a flash of instinct fear, my breath hissed in, but I managed to ask calmly (somewhat idiotically), "Is that a gun?"

"Uh-huh," was the unconcerned answer.

"Is it real?" my voice going up just a slight bit.

The student gave me a somewhat withering look, popped the gun open, and showed me... I don't know, I can't see across classrooms. He was either showing me an empty chamber, or that the gun was fake, or... I honestly don't know.

"Okay," I dismissed him, "Just put it away."

But the interesting thing is: the whole situation, after my initial instinctive fear, was oddly normal. I wouldn't have been at all surprised if it had been a real gun. I can easily imagine, especially since this was March 14th, that some history teacher asked a student to bring the gun in as part of a lesson. It was just such a glaring cultural difference... fake or real, this student would have been suspended or expelled from an American school. In the safety of my Hungarian school, I was barely fazed.

All play and no work...

... is the result of my afternoon. The facts: Varga had a short day, so as of 11:30 I was finished with all official work, and the open afternoon stretched in front of me. Tomi and Petra are both out of town, so neither mischief nor shopping could distract me. Here was my grand chance, finally, to get ahead on lesson plans, clean the house, read for fun...

Well, I did do quite a bit of blog-reading. On hipteacher's blog, I found the link to blogthings, which also took up some time...

Your Linguistic Profile:

55% General American English 20% Yankee 15% Upper Midwestern 5% Dixie 0% Midwestern

What Kind of American English Do You Speak?

Not sure how I got any dixie in me...

Teaching Nuggets

I’ve been reading teaching blogs. I’ve been spending weekends lesson-planning. I’ve become ever-so-slightly more organized. What have I become?
Anyway, some random teaching moments:

I completely lost the 11.C last week. Both classes, even the good half. I lost control and I lost any remaining respect. They had several tests in other subjects, and nothing I did coerced them away from their science/geography/math books back to English. I took books, they produced new ones. I confiscated notes, they borrowed from friends. It was an all out disaster. I’m used to there always being that one kids who refuses to pay attention, but this was overwhelming. The class just universally decided that I, and my lesson, wasn’t worth their attention.

One of the 12.C boys told me this week, in the midst of a long string of complaints, “This class is so boring. It’s worse than when Kevin was teaching us.” (“Kevin” was the American teacher before me, a warmhearted and funny man universally liked as a person but despised and looked down on as a teacher, by students, co-teachers, and administration alike.) After my initial shock, I wasn’t sure what to make of this comment. After spending a good long time thinking about it, in the end I brushed it off. Mostly, because it came from a lazy troublemaker of a student. But partially because I know that, although I have good days and bad days, I am NOT as bad as Kevin.

One last negative incident, this one bordering on seriously disturbing. Again, the troublemakers in question are two boys from the 12.C class mentioned above. Picture this: it’s the end of a lesson with another class. I’m wrapping up, going over answers, assigning homework, etc. The classroom door opens and Boy 1 comes in, ready for his next class. “Oops, you’re still in here,” he says innocently. I glare at him and he backs out. Then this repeats. He does it again, twice, in the five remaining minutes. Then he does it again the next week. And the next. I could almost accept this, and therefore ignore it, as him simply provoking me, but this week it took a new turn: Boy 2 got involved. His contribution was to pull his hat down to cover his face and pretend to sneak into the classroom holding his arm like a gun.

In American schools, I know, this would absolutely not fly. But here, I don’t know what to do. I think I’m stymied because I’m at such a loss to imagine what the hell he’s thinking. Masked gunman? Part of me thinks he’s a diabolical genius who’s playing me as the typical American with the all-enveloping irrational fear of a school-shooting. A bigger part of me thinks he’s just an ass. What to do?

Anyway... there’s my recent teaching life. No, I promise there have been some good moments as well, and I’ll post them as soon as I recover enough energy.

Private Students

Apparently the one New Year’s Resolution that everyone and their mother made was to study English, because I’ve been inundated with new private students recently. At last count, it’s 14 lessons a week, which isn’t as terrible as it sounds, due to three things:

1. The piles of cash, in 1500 forint increments, I keep finding everywhere - in random pockets, on tables, in bags, stuffed into books... Even though a couple lessons I do for free, and some others are sketchy about paying on time, it still adds up to at least 15,000 a week. Sweet.

2. Most lessons take little or no prep time. In most cases, I take whatever book/materials we’re using, photocopy the next few pages, maybe find some supplementary activities, and I’m ready to go.

3. Unlike previous years, I actually like most of my private students (have you ever tried provoking conversation with someone with who you have nothing in common? It’s mind-numbing). Three of my favorites (since lists of three seem to be my thing today):

The Little Girl: 9 years old, third grade, incredibly basic English. Last time we worked on days of the week, of which she knew none. In addition to being adorable, she’s incredibly smart - I tell her a word twice, and it’s branded into her head forever. Plus, I like to think that it’s because of me that her accent is so good.

The Student: one of Varga’s students approached me for extra lessons, mainly to prepare for the language exam he’s taking in a few months. We meet twice a week and work on a variety of materials. I like him simply because he seems a lot like me at that age. I have some doubts about his ability to pass this exam, but - whether he does or not, after the exam I know our lessons will be over, and I’ll miss them.

The Mom: one of my newest students; she’s the mother of a Varga student who this year is studying abroad in, of all places, Minnesota. We meet three times a week, so it’s a good thing I love lessons with her so much (seriously, when I close the door behind her after a lesson, I usually have to do some sort of happy dance or sing my-god-i-love-her under my breath). Her English is very, very basic, but she’s incredibly, contagiously enthusiastic, not afraid of mistakes (she self-corrects a lot) and even after a short time I can see her improving.

And starting next week, I’m getting one or two new students... yikes. Well, it’s nice being busy...

You Know You're Hungarian When...

A friend forwarded this to me, and I had to post it. Not only is it hilarious, but pretty accurate test of Hungarianism...

You Know You're Hungarian...

1. When you use sour cream more than ketchup.

2. When your parents come to visit for 3 weeks and you all stay in a one bedroom apartment.

3. When feeding your guests is your main priority even if they claim they're not hungry and in which case you get slightly offended/upset that they don't want your hospitality.

4. When someone says that Hungarian "is like Russian and all those other Slavic languages," and then you have to go into great detail about the origins of Hungarian with a scolding history lesson.

5. When Paprika is just as important as salt & pepper on the table & in food.

6. When you know what Unicum is and prefer it over Jagrmeister.

7. When you know how to open a bottle of wine with only a screw and a pair of pliers.

8. When you tell someone that you are Hungarian, they ask "Are you hungry?" Then you congratulate them on being the millionth person to say that to you.

9. When you've heard, "If you're hungry, why not go to Turkey?" at least once in your life.

10. When you have a relative who's named Attila. Or Jozsef. Or Janos. Or Laszlo.

11. When half of your mothers friends husbands have the name Jozsef.

12. When you know that the "goulash" you see in many restaurants has in actuality little/nothing to do with the gulyas leves we really eat.

13. When meeting another Hungarian in a country outside of Hungary is amazing.

14. When you know the meaning of "kurva" even if you don't know any other Hungarian word.

15. When you love Turó Rudi but cant really explain to foreigners what the hell that is untill they try it.

16. When your foreign friends ask you if you still believe that Santa Claus brings the presents on the night between December 24th-25th... then you answer somehow confused that Santa Claus brings the presents on the 6th of December and it is actually Little Jesus who brings the presents on Christmas, but the presents are already there on the 24th at 6PM.

17. When a pancake is extremely flat in your country and you roll it up instead of folding it.

18. When you know what TÚRÓ is.

19. When you know the phrase "three is the Hungarian truth".

20. When 7 is a bad number.

21. When you leave your house for longer than 2 hours, you make sure there's enough sandwiches, apples, bottled tap water, coffee in a thermos, and chocolate bars packed for everyone to survive (without spending a dime)!

22. When you do not speak with your mouth full.

23. When guys keep telling you that Hungarian girls are the cutest and prettiest and hope that you just believe it and they get laid.

24. When they wanna show off by saying that they know your capital: Bucharest and no, they are not joking!

25. When you go into a Chinese restaurant and order your Sechuan chicken with french fries, cucumber salad and ask for a few slices of bread as well.

26. When you have a funny accent in every other language you speak.

27. When you love Mákos Guba and you can't explain what MÁK is, neither GUBA to anyone.. and if you finallly can, everyone will think you're some kind of weirdo for eating that.

28. When you go into a Posta when every single old person in Budapest wants to, and they keep letting their mates into the line.

29. When catching a bus an old lady with lots of heavy bags runs by you and reaches the bus first, then sits down panting and complaining how old she is and how the stuff is heavy and young people are not well educated, etc.

30. When you start counting on your hand with one being the thumb.

31. When you can swear for 5 minutes straight, with one breath, not using the same word, ever.

32. When you know what 'lángos' is.

33. When you wish you would get 5 bucks everytime somebody says "I know a hungarian word... bazdmeg... *laugh*..."

34. When you can show off your engagement ring, worn on the opposite hand.

35. When you know why the bells of every church ring every day at noon.

36. When you have difficulty pronouncing words started with "W" in English, but you're capable of creating long and meaningful sentences using only "E" vowels in you mother tongue.

37. When you would rather stand up in a tram/trolley when there are plenty of seats available.

38. When you have more excuses for the kontrollers than you have tickets.

39. When the train hasn't even left the station, but you are already eating your home made sandwiches (usually with half a paprika or tomato in it).

40. When you tell everybody that Hungarian people always criticize everything.

41. When the home-made sandwiches on the train include Wienerschnitzel.

So I got 27 out of 41 (take that, Citizienship Board!), although I still have no idea about “three is the Hungarian truth...”

(Nem) beszélek magyarul

I play this game about speaking Hungarian. I play it with Hajni, Mariann, Caley, Petra.... etc. The rules of the game are like this: whenever they introduce me to someone new, it’s with the phrase, “This is Emily. She speaks Hungarian.” Variants include “This is Emily; she speaks fluent Hungarian” and “This is Emily. She’s American, but don’t worry, she speaks Hungarian.” Then it’s my turn, and I come back with something like, “Oh, no, not really.” Or, “Oh, no, just a little.” This meek protest inevitably leads to the new person assuming that I do speak fluently, and I end up speaking my broken, difficult Hungarian to people who speak English incredibly well. It’s a great game, really.

Anyway. I realized this week, that maybe I should stop protesting, because... I kinda do speak Hungarian. Bad, broken, sorely-in-need-of-practice Hungarian, but understandable and workable nonetheless. In the last week I’ve...

- brought back late library books, not pay a fine, and negotiate through the fact that my card was expired
- set up a new private lesson, on the phone (ON.... THE.... PHONE!)
- bought a pair of boots from a street dealer (actually, a “lobby dealer,” if such a thing exists)
- entertained, explained, and helped my students
- fielded various personal questions from colleagues - both my own and the Újszász crew

And somehow typed out it doesn’t seem like a long list. I guess I was joust proud to admit it to myself. So... early birthday present, pat on the back to me. Now... back to studying some more.

Values and Beliefs

With my 11th graders, I’m painfully working our* way through “A Discussion of American Beliefs and Values,” a somewhat dry interview with 4 American high-schoolers about what values are most important for them. I began yesterday with the first group.... awful. While they were half-lazing, half terrorizing each other, and no-percent working, I was doodling a cartoon of the word “ABYSMAL” in my grade book...

Today with the second group, I wasn’t expecting much better, but they they surprised me my working half-diligently almost the entire hour. Except one group, of course, who did half the exercises before rambling off-topic. More interesting than the worksheet to them was to make up bizarre, semi-thoughtful, “discussion questions.” The best two:

-What would you do if someone told you that you would die in one week?
-Would you rather kill yourself or kill another person? Does your answer change based on who the other person is?

It’s a great feeling of success for me, and I suspect for other teachers as well, when take something from class and expand it into their own lives in some way. Since these questions can, plausibly, be linked back to values and beliefs, I choose to believe that’s what the boys were doing. Not just slacking off...

*should it be “our way” or “my way”? “My way” sounds right, but isn’t the subject “I and the 11th graders,” therefore, “our way”? This sounds like a questions for Mrs. Chili’s Grammar Wednesday...

And speaking of slacking off... I’m off work for a week and off to Budapest to help train the new amcsik.... I mean, the new American CETP teachers.

Happy New Year

I’m back! Resolution for this year: blog regularly. Regularly meaning once a week minimum. Once a week meaning with gaps of no more than 7 days.

Other resolutions involve all the customary things, like booze, money, health, housekeeping, work, self-improvement, etc.

On housekeeping: Do it better. Hell, just do it.

On work: I’ve been doing a pretty good job of keeping up with my lesson plans; if I can keep it up and improve just a bit I’d be satisfied.

On health: Actually, I’m not doing so badly, if only I could get rid of my “Santa/baby/belly”

On self-improvement: Learn Hungarian, learn many things, just keep learning in general. Be less selfish, think more about other people. Continue being lazy, but in a more functional way - for example, today I had no electricity upstairs. Instead of finding someone to fix this problem, I used to to justify doing no work all day.

On booze: The hardest one. Giving up drinking entirely is, let’s face it, not a viable option. But I have to find some limits, define them, stick to them.

On money: Payoff credit card or risk broken kneecaps. Begin paying student loans responsibly. Open a savings account here and establish credit; begin thinking about (gulp) retirement funds.

Well... there you go. Stay tuned; approximately 50-odd entries later, I’ll let you know how it goes.

11.C takes a quiz

With my 11.C classes, I’m currently working, very slowly, through basic America history and culture. Their assignment over the break was to read a measly 5 pages about schools, society, and culture in Colonial America. The five pages contained some pretty advanced vocabulary though, and so I specifically told them, “Make sure you look up all the words you don’t understand, because we’re going to have a vocabulary quiz next lesson.”

No one listened, save one or two girls. Feeling pretty sulky and uninspired, I gave them 35 minutes to look up and study the words, and gave the quiz at the end of class (the 10 words I picked for the quiz were: frontier, deter, be obliged to, thrive, tuition, endeavor, bequeath, vigorous, diffusion, and charter). Although many of them bombed it, they did manage to come up with some entertaining mistakes:

- Everyone was tuited about the schools.
- You can always deter words.
- Towns are obliged to countries.
- Thriving is really dangerous.
- If you’re lost in a town abroad, you can get a tuition from someone in the street.
- Endeavors were in the past, in America history it was present.
- We learned something about diffusion last year from chemistry.
- I have thriven by my sister.
- I put the bequeath under my door, not to move.

and my favorites:
- Endeavors invaded the country.
- Bequeath sounds like french baguette.
- When Soma entered the room he said vigorous.

Nice try, guys.

Open Day

Today was a non-teaching day for me. Because of last week’s holiday, and my illness the week before, it’s now been a month since I’ve seen some of my Wednesday classes, including my Most-Hated Class (I won’t say which class it is, but you’d know if you looked in my gradebook - it’s the class on whose page Tomi drew a picture for me. He asked if he could draw something and my answer was “Sure, but draw it on this page, because whenever I see the list of their names I need something beautiful to keep me sane”).

The reason behind the non-teaching day was that today Varga had their Open Day, where current 8th graders come and check out the school to see if they might apply (unlike America, all high schools in Hungary are by application). God forbid the prospies might see an actual normal school day, so today the school made up a special one-day schedule, which showcased the best teachers teaching special fun and interesting lessons to the best students. In this whole best-foot-forward frenzy, I was not asked to teach a lesson. Cool.

I used my free day for, what else, being lazy at home and getting nothing done as usual. But, being the good pedagogue that I am, I managed to find some time in my busy nothingness to catch up with my favorite three teaching blogs, listed here in order of discovery: A Teacher's Education, California Teacher Guy, and Ms. Issippi. The latter I just found recently, and spent a good several hours going through her archives. Teaching first grade in rural Mississippi sounds remarkably similar to teaching older children in Hungary; besides, her stories inspire me to be a better teacher. I wish she would start posting again....

Hat nap amerikában

So it’s Friday, and in less than 12 hours I’ll be boarding a plane, which will take me to a plane which will take me to another plane, which will take me back to Hungary. After six days back here, these are the things I still haven’t gotten comfortable with:

- Being the thinnest person in the room/store/area. Really, it was flattering at first, but it’s becoming disturbing.

- Waking up at 6 or 4 or 2 am, to a pitch black sky, and feeling as refreshed as if I slept til noon.

- Commercials on TV. It’s the same as the fat people everywhere: I don’t see them in Hungary, and they both fascinate and disgust me.

- Is it just my house, or are light-switches and doorknobs much lower in America?

- I never, ever, EVER thought I’d say or even think this but... I miss house slippers. Even in my parent’s fully-carpeted house, I miss my flip-flops and slip-ons.

- Dial-up internet. Seriously, in this day and age.... how can anyone live like this???

- People always smiling at you and asking how you are. It’s creepy. And on the other hand, if I’m in a store and ask something like “Excuse me, can you please tell me where....” they look at me like I’m being sickeningly polite. Have I lost my scale of American manners?

- The crappy radio stations here.

- My family. That’s a whole ’nother post, I guess.

- Everything being in extremes. There’s too much or too little of everything: too many people, too many cars, too much open space, too much consumerism, too much stress, too many things to do, too many people to see, too many things I want. And on the other hand, I have too little time, too little money, and too little patience to deal with it all. And I have no place anymore. In the end, I guess what I find the most upsetting is the lack of control I have on my own life here. Everyone told me it was foolish to come back for just a week, and they were all right, although maybe not in the way they thought: a week here was just enough to upset my life in Szolnok, without giving me any of the benefits of being here.

Twenty-four hours

That’s how long it took, from when we left Szolnok at 3am Saturday morning, to when I arrived at Minneapolis-St Paul Airport at 9pm Saturday night. Random thoughts from along the way:

Friday noon: I just now started packing. What can I bring? I can’t get over the feeling that this is like so many weekend trips, that I’ll just going a couple hours, a couple hundred kilometers away, and I’ll be back on Monday to my normal life.
This is the first time I’ve ever been scared to fly. I mean, scared to die in some horrible accident. Is my life really so great now that I’m scared to lose it? Apparently.

Friday afternoon: Everything in me is pulling me against this trip. I don’t want to travel. I don’t want to be in Minnesota. I don’t want to see my parents. I’m trying like hell, but so far there’s not a single real thing that I’m looking forward other than coming back to Szolnok. The closest thing I’ve got is that it’ll be fun to shop for gifts for people.

Friday evening: Is it strange that in the school today, almost everyone who wished me a good trip ended their wishes with “and come back!”? I’d like the know the story behind that. I mean really, what the hell, who didn’t come back??

Saturday morning, way too early: Standing in the first of many lines, the Budapest customs. I stand in the wrong line for ten minutes before moving to the non-EU passports line. The woman behind me is going crazy with the wait, and repeats “Hát, az hihetetlen” dozens of times, accompanied by repeated trips to the front of the line to harass the poor customs workers.

Saturday, Frankfurt: I’m sitting in a lounge, waiting the three hours until my next flight will be shown on the monitors. There are two flights listed back to Budapest. I wonder how easy it would be to change my ticket. I wonder what would happen to my checked luggage.

Saturday, several hours later but still in Frankfurt: Jebus, I’d forgotten how much security you have to go through on America-bound flights. After being patted down, none too gently, by a surly security guard, at the gate I am questioned within an inch of my life by the American Airlines security. They ask me all the normal questions (who packed your bags, have you accepted any gifts, what electronics are you carrying) plus some bordering on too-personal: where did you spend last night, who was with you, who drove you to the airport and how well do you know him, what nationality... etc. The man questioning me sweetly keeps apologizing for being so personal, but also tells me how it’s happened several times that bombs have been found on board. Gee, how reassuring. All I can think is that after all this trouble, I’m going to be DOUBLE-pissed if this plane goes down.

Still Saturday, and again several hours later, now in Chicago: how is this possible: I’ve gone through security three times, for two international flights, including the American Airlines Super-Security. But boarding a one-hour domestic flight from Chicago to MSP is where they finally confiscate my water bottle, and the first time I’m asked to remove my shoes. The man asking me to take them off uses a voice like, “duh, haven’t you ever flown before?” and I want to snap back with “Look, idiot, I’ve flown farther today that you’ll ever travel in your sad state-bound life, and what the hell makes you think anyone would choose to target this poor excuse for a puddle-jump flight? Get over yourself, you self-important bastard.” Perhaps I’m starting to get a bit testy with jet-lag.
PS - sitting in the waiting room for the Chicago-MSP flight, I am so the skinniest person there. Seriously, I look like a model next to these people. Ha ha ha, sweet.

Yet still Saturday (almost over), finally in Minneapolis/St. Paul: I arrive on time. I recognize my family (good thing Sam’s a head taller than everyone else). We drive home and already I’m slipping back into Minnesota. Still not sure about this. We’ll see.

The kids aren't alright

I can think of several stories which would fit that title, but... here’s today’s:

This morning, Varga had it’s October 23rd Commemoration. Because there’s no room in the school big enough for everyone, they held it Szolnok’s Cultural Center. At the end of the ceremony, the announcer concluded with, “So, it’s about 9 o’clock now. At 10 o’clock classes will begin; everyone please collect your coats and bags and meet your class teacher in the lobby to walk back to the school together.”

Which I thought was a bit dumb - these are high schoolers, after all, they don’t need their class teachers to chaperone them back to the school, four blocks away. Most teachers just let their kids go.

Problem: the unsupervised students had one hour to walk four blocks. Solution: they popped into a couple bars on the way. My first two periods were hilarious: students still dressed to the nines, slightly cross-eyed, and reeking of booze.

October Update

So for once, I have a legit reason for my lack of posting (not that it really matters, since all 6 people who read this blog see me on a regular basis anyway), that reason being that I’ve been hella busy. In addition to my 20-plus-one hours a week at Varga (the high school) and 4 at Kassai (the primary school), there’s also the 4 hours a week at the college. Plus private lessons. Plus, starting this week, I’ll be taking Hungarian lessons again (after a little spat about my Hungarian skills/lack thereof, I hotheadedly decided to take the Magyar mint idegen nyelv exam to prove him wrong. Yikes).

Plus, about mid-last-week when I was floundering a bit, I decided that it would make my life infinitely easier if I made out a complete set of lesson plans for the entire semester, until January. No doubt it will make things easier... once they’re finished. Right now, it’s just a lot of work.

But by all means don’t think that I’m complaining. I like keeping busy; it keeps me sane, which will be more and more important as the winter pushes down. Plus, I don’t have time to get sick of one group before it’s time to go teach another.

Anyway, right now I’ve got a free másfél óra until classes, and instead of spending it relaxing.... 9th grade lesson plans!

20 years away

Conversation overheard today between two of my adorable 5th graders. Imagine it in Hungarian, of course:

Ádám: Do you know German?
Balint: What? This is Enlgish class, stupid.
Ádám: No, but do you know German?
Balint: Um, no, why?
Ádám: You know, you have to speak German to get into high school.
Balint: What?
Ádám: You have to speak two languages.
Balint: Ádám, who cares? That’s like 20 years away.
Ádám: You mean 5 years.*
Balint: Whatever, what color are your eyes?**

*Actually, it’s like 3 and a half years.
** What he readlly said, in wonderful Hunglish, was “Mindegy, milyen az eyes-ed?”

How I got into college...

So starting tonight, I’ll be teaching at the Szolnoki Fõiskola (Szolnok College). It seems like it’ll be a good job - teaching 12 pre-intermediate students twice a week, 90 minutes each lesson. And for this endeavor, 3 hours of extra work a week, I’ll be making 60% of what I make at my full time job.

I have to share the way I got the job, because it was very typical of how things work in Hungary: at my part time job at Kassai Primary, the other American teacher is a guy named Oscar. His main job is at the Waldorf School in Szolnok (I think). Another teacher there is a German (possibly French? Dutch???) guy named Stefan, who has some as-yet-undiscovered-by-me connection to the college. So Stefan recruited Oscar to teach there, Oscar took the advanced group and passed the pre-int on to me, et viola, here I am about to embark on another teaching adventure.

Me too

In the past two years, I’ve had the following conversation with 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th, and 8th graders:

(the five-minute warning bell rings, the student jumps up)
Me: Sit down, there’s five minutes more.
Student: But we’re finished.
Me: No. Five more minutes.
Student: But... but... lunch! We’re hungry.
Me: Too bad. Me too.

Today I had the same conversation with a 13th grader. The only difference was that he used the word “starving” instead. It's nice that some things aren't grade-dependant.

p.s. - and after having this conversation god-knows-how-many times, typing it now was the first time I realized that I should be saying “So am I,” not “Me too.” Oops. Yay, English teaching.