Another weekend, another festival

This weekend, rather spur-of-the-moment, we headed of to Dunaújváros* for the EFOTT festival. Similar to last weekend, the plan was to go for one day (Saturday), catch the show, and come back the next day. Here the similarities end.

company - this weekend, I was the sole female (although not from lack of trying on some people's parts...) It was the familial (or do I mean familiar?) foursome: me, Tomi, Atti, Gabi.

transport - did not involve any yachts, but was nevertheless more varied. Trains of various qualities, bus, metro, taxi, foot... it all fell in. Actually, although long, the trip was uneventful, typical: drinking and carousing on the way down, sleeping and moaning on the way back.

festival itself - smaller for starts. While Balatonsound was mainly techno, EFOTT was mostly rock, and all Hungarian acts, not a single foreign group. So, a different atmosphere completely.
Fewer people in bathing suits and many more in black t-shirts and boots. The crowd was older by a few years. There was no giant lake, of course, and it felt less like a beach party and more like a... I don't know. It wasn't as laid-back, and altogether I preferred Balatonsound's atmosphere (although the music is a different story... see below).

language - I think I wrote about last weekend being too Hungarian-intense for me. This was better, despite the festival being, as I said before, an all-Hungarian event. While I don't want to claim to have been the only foreigner there... the only English I heard was among us. Although strangely, as our neighbors were de-tenting (?) early this morning, amidst a storm of Hungarian complaining one said the other in mournful-sounding English, "Please help me."

music - the heart of the festival. The reason for going Saturday night was, on the main stage back-to-back-to-back, 30Y .... Bëlga .... Tankcsapda. Too great to be missed. Well, we did miss a chunk of 30Y because we went wandering off, but what we heard was okay; they're not my favorite anyway. Tankcsapda, my fave, my love.... was a huge disappointment. People told me that they suck live, but my memories of seeing them at Sziget were good (if a bit hazy, ahem). The difference must have been that at Sziget, we were in a huge crowd a good ways back from the stage. In EFOTT, I was pressed right up against the front row fence, and could see all the nasty seedy details. The singer is a complete parody of "Aging Rock Band," complete with long bleach-blond hair, oh-so-carelessly windblown by the strategically placed fan. We watched half the concert up front before escaping further back.
Bëlga, on the other hand, were incredible. They put on a hell of a show - sang, rapped, danced around like idiots, and generally looked like they were just up there enjoying themselves. Their enthusiasm was contagious, and their show was the best I've been to.... um, I'll say ever. Although for reasons of scientific comparision, I'm going to have to check out some more of their concerts... for science, damn you!

So that was that. By the way, one thing that didn't miraculously change between this weekend and last was my dislike of camping. I don't know what we're doing next weekend, but if I have any say it'll involve real beds, showers, and food that isn't ridiculously over-priced.

*Funny, last weekend when we were trying an autópálya-free route home, we almost went through Dunaújváros. Apparently the city has some pull on us...

Balaton

the time: last weekend
the place: Balaton
the players: self, Tomi, mutual friend Tamás, his ex-girlfriend and my ex-student Vivi, and her friend Ági
the plan: drive down to Zamárdi on Friday and catch one day of Balatonsound. Spend Saturday somewhere else on the lake. Come home Sunday. A simple plan, open.

the highlights:

* Balatonsound was, well, meh. I'm not that into techno/trance/electric what-the-hell-ever anyway, so the music wasn't that interesting for me. Although Massive Attack put on a good visual show. The festival was "nagyon feelingos," lots of beer and junk food and bathing-suit-wearing people lying on the grass. Best parts were running into (literally) old friends, plus swimming. Both of which I could have done without paying the 7000 forint ticket. Oh well.

* The Hungarian-English ratio left me longing for American friends. I suppose I should have predicted it: me, who won't speak Hungarian in front of strangers; one friend who speaks English with me but not in front of others; other friend who speaks both but chooses Hungarian as the easier; one stranger who speaks perfect English and occasionally did; other stranger whose English approximates my Hungarian. So I was quiet a lot the whole weekend, which was peaceful but a bit isolated.

* On Friday, as we were discussing options for the next days, Tamás suggested sailing. We nodded ambiguously, mulling over the cost. Well. In typical fashion, it turned out that he had already made sailing plans. Namely, that his parents have a boat in Füred. So we spend Saturday and Sunday sailing, sunning, swimming around the lake. It was amazing! I've never been on a sail boat before... although to call it a sail boat somehow minimizes it, it was BIG.

* Getting home was ridiculous. We left Füred around 5. In normal traffic the trip would take, absolute maximum, 3 hours. But, being Sunday evening, everyone and their mother and their kitchen sink was driving back on the same two roads. Even the autópálya was bumper-to-bumper. We got home at 11:30.

* Altogether it was a great mini-vacation. Now I have to start thinking about the next one, which will be Dublin in August. Anyone who knows any must-sees, must-dos, etc, for Dublin, let me know!

Balaton pictures to come... tomorrow. This week. Some day. Maybe.

ATCs part II

And a pic - this is my favorite ATC that I've made recently:

ATCs

Just for kicks, and lack of better material, and the fact that there is absolutely NOTHING available online about ATCs in Hungarian, the following is an essay I wrote for my Hungarian class. Of course, this isn't the original version I wrote, but rather the corrected version. I know that it still reads a bit strange - while going over it, my patient tanár often proclaimed "helyes, csak.... csak nem magyaros." Which, coupled with her puzzled expression, could be translated as "grammatically correct, but no Hungarian would ever write this, and it's so bizarrely formed I don't even know how to fix it." Anyway:

ATC

Az egyik hobbim ATC-ket csinálni. Az "ATC" az "Artist Trading Card" rövidítése, amit úgy szoktak fordítani, hogy "mûvészkártya" vagy "mûvésznévjegy." Az ATC egy kis darab mû, amit bármilyen mûvész csinál a sájat stilusában, abból a célból hogy elcserélje mással. Csak két szabály van: a méret (2.5 x 3.5 inches, 64 x 89 mm), ugyanaz mint egy baseball kártya vagy egy játék-kártya. A másik szabály az, hogy a kártyákat nem adhatod el, csak elcserélheted. Ezeket kivéve, mindent szabad: bármilyen anyagból és bármilyen technikával csinálhatod.

A mai ATC-k, ha jól tudom, kb. 20 éve kezdõdtek Svájcban, egy svájci festõvel. De igazán sokkal hosszabb a története, mert éppen a középkorban csináltak mûvészek olyan kis kártyákat, például miniatûr portrékat. Mostanában, a legtöbb ATC-készítõk nem profi mûvészek, hanem bárki, akinek egy kis inspirációja és tehetsége van (persze, van olyan is, akinek nincs semmi tehetsége...).

Régebben ATC-ket csak személyesen cseréltek. De most létezik sok online csoport, meg weboldalak, stb, ahol találhatok csere listákat. Ezek a listák mindig ugyanazt tartalmazzák: a csere témája (mindenki csinál kártyát ezzel a témával; bármi lehet - kávé, Afrika, fekete és kék, állatok, "open" nyitott téma, stb.), a csere-rendezõ ("hostess") neve, címe, meg email-címe, hány kártyát kell csinálnom (általálban 3 és 9 között), és az idõpont, amikor a kártyáimat a rendezõnek el kell küldenem.

Ha érdekes cserét látok, emailezem a rendezõnek, hogy szeretnék a cseréhez csatlakozni. Utána megcsinálom az ATC-eimet és elküldöm a rendezõnek. A rendezõ megkapja mindenki kártyáit, osszekeveri, és visszaküld mindenkinek ugyanannyi új másfajta ATC-t, amiket mások csináltak.

Nekem ATC-ket csinálni a kedvenc hobbim, mert szeretem a kézimunkát, például a hîmzést meg az "art quilting"-t*, de nekem általálban nincs elég türelmem nagy projekthez. Egy kicsit packratos** vagyok, és annak örülök, hogy sokféle ATC-t gyûjthetek.

* ez lesz a követkézo esszém ;)
** (pack rat) gyûjtõ, gyûjtõgetõ

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.

The new school: Varga Katalin Gymnasium

Since Blogger won't let me make the title a link, here's the link for the official webpage of my new school, Varga. Sweet, clean, beautiful, wonderful, well-organized Varga, filled with kind helpful teachers, smiling staff, efficient administration, and okos rendes diákok.

So yes, I’m woozy in love with the new school. I’m not even minding the extra work that goes with such a nice position, i.e. making complete yearly syllabi and multiple lesson plans weekly. Oh Varga, my sweet muse, inspiring me beyond the lazy, half-assed teacher I was at Kassai. Plus, those damn clever kids would tear me apart if I didn’t march in well-prepared.

So this is what I’m teaching, broken down as simply as I can: in 9th and 10th grades, two classes of each, I’m teaching just conversation. There’s a couple things I should do from their books, but mostly I’m on my own to plan things. I haven’t met the 10th graders yet, but the 9th graders are quickly becoming some of my favorites. In 11th and 12th grade, also two classes of each, I’m teaching American Civilization concurrently with their other teacher who’s teaching them British Civilisation. That’s the hardest, because the 12th graders are taking an exam at the end of the year, so they have to know the topics well. And I feel like it’s on me if they pass or not. The 11th graders have already proven a little bratty, but the 12th seems more serious.

I also have 5 other classes, scattered in the 11th to 13th grades, where I’m teaching conversation with the aim of preparing for the érettségi (school-leaving exam). I like this classes, not only because I see them once a week and they’re easiest to plan for, but also because the students seem, well, they just seem like good kids. The 13th graders are an especially fun group, lessons I actually look forward to.

And, of course, I’m teaching my four lessons a week at Kassai, my old school; two 6th grade classes on Tuesday morning and two 5th grade classes on Thursday mornings. The classes are huge, not fewer than 20 students, and they expect me to do ONLY conversation - my ex-contact teacher Kati actually told me “don’t let them write.” Two words for that: as if. Oh well, my Varga muse, meaning my inspiration to plan things and do well by the students, is luckily strong enough to carry over to Kassai, so I guess as long as I plan super well, I might be able to teach them a thing or two.

MSN: providing hours of lingustic amusement

I wrote an entry explaining the whole long backstory of the following conversation, but since I’m really posting it for the sake of the awesome code-switching and Hunglish grammar, here’s all you need: Andika is a former Kassai student (6th grade), Toth Kata is my wonderfully fear-inducing ex-contact teacher, and Oscar is an American guy, married to a szolnoki and living here. And I’m Emily:

Andika says: toth katalin is say we how Oscar fog tanítani
Emily says: igen?
Andika says: je
Andika says: but
Andika says: not biztos
Emily says: akkor most nincsen angol-tarsalgas ora?
Andika says: még nincs
Andika says: but lesz
Emily says: mikor?
Andika says: just no kötelezö
Emily says: ok, latom
Andika says: nemtudom
Andika says: ilyen jól tudsz magyarul
Emily says: nem
Andika says: hihi

Love it.

Summer

That’s it, a boring one-word title and one all-encompassing entry to sum up my activities of the past few months. But every day that I procrastinate blogging again, I get more and more anxious about it, so I’d rather do this half-assed catch-up now and get back on track.

In June, I worked. I mean, in addition to official work the first half of the month, I also worked a week of summer camp (see below); the remaining week was spent packing, moving, and unpacking.

In July, I lazed. The month wasn’t really good for anything else; it was just too hot. My life fell in a wonderfully predictable pattern, a typical day looked something like this: wake up already hot; drink a coffee and take a cold shower; walk around with Petra and shop; meet up with Rita, drink a beer and play cards in the hottest part of midday; go to the Holt Tisza or Tiszapuspoki beach with the girls or Gábor; watch tvlinks, chat, and drink ice water in front of my fan; finally eat something around sunset when it got a few degrees cooler. Evenings I either went out with Tomi or hung out in Petra’s garden with her and Csomanok. It was the best part of summer. I also went to Transylvania and Balaton for a few days each.

In August, I wasn’t at home. First I was in Szombathely for another week of summer camp. Then at Sziget, which was awesome until the last night when I lost my mind, temporarily, and my phone, permanently. We spent a few days recovering in Pest, sleeping in Jeremy’s hallway/loft and mooching his food. August 20th we watched the fireworks from Margit híd - this year they were both spectacular and death-free. The day after, the new generation of CETP teachers started arriving, and Caley and I spent the week orientation-ing them, not that they needed much help; this seems like a pretty levelheaded, intelligent, independent and fun group.

Anyway, after almost a month of travel, I was beyond-words glad at being home in Szolnok. But my working-lazing-traveling summer isn’t quite yet over; I’ve been working in Varga, finishing up paperwork, attending teachers’ meetings, and working on a syllabus for each class. I’ve been traveling, so to speak, back and forth between my current flat and the house across the courtyard, into which I’m in the process of moving (more on that later). And of course I’m lazing, making the most of the last few days and hours before another school year begins.

Summer Camp

I may (or may not) have mentioned that my summer plans included working in a summer English camp. The plan was this: ten weeks of work, each week (Mon-Fri) in a different city in Hungary. Primary-school aged kids come every day from 8 to 4, and I and a Hungarian teacher (Kata) play games, do projects, and hopefully teach them some English.

The first week was last week in Szeged, and it was great. There were 14 kids ages 8 to 14, and with one or two exceptions they were smart, funny, motivated, and well-behaved. On the last day we put on a play which the students had made up themselves (but which Kata and I had written). I’m including the play below, because I think it’s pretty hilarious.

Unfortunately, not enough students signed up for all the camps, so other than the week in Szeged there’ll only be one other week, in Szombathely in August. It’s really too bad, because (in addition to being both fun and money for me) the camps seem really well-run, both entertaining and educational. Anyway, doing my bit of promotion, here’s the website for Applecross English Camps.

And here’s the play, Attack at the Disco. I take no responsibility for characters or plot; they were all from the minds of the students:

Narrator - Dear Viewers, today we will tell the story of a terrible attack on the earth. It is a story of how evil UFOs and dwarves tried to take over the world, and how they were stopped by the Great Yoda.

Other Narrator - There is a lack of water on Earth. People are always thirsty and there is no food

Everybody - I’m thirsty, I’m hungry!

Other Narrator - UFOs decided to take over and use the Earth as a storage place.

Little UFO - Let’s get the Earth. People are very weak there.

Big UFO - We need some help! We have to make sure we can occupy the planet. I suggest to talk to the dwarves.

Little UFO - Ok! Let’s go!

Big UFO - Will you help up occupy your planet? You won’t regret it!

Dirty (okay, so I don’t know the Seven Dwarves in English. The boys said they wanted to be Hapsi and Kuka. I knew that Hapsi was Sneezy, and just guessed that Kuka was Dirty. Anyway, it should have been Dopey, oh well) - Sneezy, if we help the aliens we could become kings on Earth. We said we won’t regret it. What do you think?

Sneezy - I actually always wanted a career!

Dirty - Do you have an idea? How could we make sure? What should we do to help them.

Sneezy - On Saturday night everybody goes to the disco. The aliens can take over the Earth there.

Dirty - It is a pleasure to work with you.

Both UFOs - Thank you.

Narrator - At the same time people don’t know anything about the aliens’ plan. They are too busy preparing for a Saturday night out. The famous sisters are just about to go to their fashion designer to have a dress made for Saturday. They always take their cat with them.

Famous Sisters (played by two small girls who always spoke in unison) - I would like a new dress.

Cat - Dresses really suit you.

Fashion Designer - I will make you the best dresses like the Paris designers make.

Famous Sisters - I would like the best make-up ever for tonight.

Cat - I am sure you will be really funky.

Fashion Designer - Please let me do my job!

Famous Sisters - Thank you. You did a great job!

Cat - I will go to the disco with you!

Famous Sisters - Yes, please!

Narrator - While the sisters and their cat and Sara the fashion designer got ready for the big night out, the aliens worked on their terrible plan!

Both Dwarves - These people don’t know what is going to happen. And we will be kings at the end!

Big UFO - Our plan must work

(evil laughter)

Narrator - In the disco, the Fashion Hip-Hop Dancers (three girls who wanted to include a dance routine in the play. Sure, why not?) have already arrived.

Wanda - What a great disco! How did you find it?

Niki - Don’t you remember, we danced here last year in a competition.

Blanka - Oh yes, I remember - we took third place in that competition.

Niki - It was very good.

Wanda - Good?! You think 3rd place is good? No, we must be first.

Blanka - Okay, then let’s practice our dance.

(they perform their dance)

Niki - I think our dancing is getting better. Shall we practice more?

Blanka - No, let’s not, it’s too hot and I’m very tired.

Wanda - Hey, look! Isn’t that those famous sisters with the fashion designer and their cat?

Niki - Yes, it is! Let’s go talk to them.

Famous Sisters and Fashion Designer - Oh, Fashion Hip-Hop Dancers, can we have your autograms?

Niki, Wanda, Blanka - Yes, here you are.

Cat - Meow, me too!

Wanda - Come on, let’s all dance.

Narrator - So everyone danced together happily. They didn’t know that the aliens were about to take over the earth...

Dwarves and UFOs - Rrrarrr!

Girls - (screaming) Help! No!

Dwarves and UFOs - We are here to take over the Earth. You will all die!

(they all fight)

Yoda (played by the most adorable little boy) - STOP! Why are you fighting?

Girls - We want water!

Dwarves - We want money!

UFOs - We want the earth!

Yoda - (to girls) I give you water. (to dwarves) I give you money. (to UFOs) I will kill you. Happy?

Everybody - Yes!!!

Yoda - Okay, let’s dance!!

THE END

Indroduction to Varga

After blowing my first appointment at Varga on Tuesday, due to a way-too-long bus ride, we resceduled for Thursday and I made damn sure to be on time. After all, first impressions are everything.

And I can only hope that that's true, because if so the following year teaching at Varga Katalin Gymnasium (their website, unfortch not in English) is going to be heavenly.

I walked into the school, some minutes early, and up to the teachers' room. I stumbled hesitantly into the next office down, which was labled Igazgato / Headmaster. Oh bliss to be somewhere TRUELY bilingual. Although the secreteries in the front office didn't speak English, they knew who I was and directed me to Laci, the principal. What followed was a meeting with him and my contact teacher Marianna, which turned out to be the most efficient and well-planned meeting I've ever attended in Hungary. We went over paperwork and numbers and details, and chatted. After, Marianna and I sat in the teachers' room and she explained everything about what classes I'll be teaching, which books they'll use, what my goals will be for each group; she even gave me a packet she'd made up with several pages describing the school, how it works, procedures for grading and discipline... pure well-organized bliss. I didn't know schools in Hungary were capable of planning ahead more than a few days.

We finished by making plans to meet again Friday morning, finish up paperwork, and go to the Immigration Office. That, of course, is a whole seperate story.

Good-bye, but wait, Hello

Today was graduation for the 8th graders at Kassai. Not much to say - they paraded in, there were long, boring speeches and flowers and balloons, I had to wear heels, and in an hour it was all over. In the teachers room my contact teacher cornered me (heels = can’t run fast) and we had the following conversation:

Kati: Oh, it’s over.
Me: Yup.
Kati (in that tone I know so well): Emily, I wanted to tell you, we didn’t say good-bye to you.
Me (slightly touched that she cared): Oh, um...
Kati: I mean, we didn’t say good-bye to you because we will see you again.
Me (for a split second, I actually considered they might be inviting me to a farewell dinner or something): Really?
Kati: Yes, we will see you next year.
Me: Oh, of course, I’ll visit-
Kati: No, you will teach here.
Me: Whathuh?
Kati: Yes, Éva (our principal) talked to Laci (new school’s principal) and he says he cannot find enough hours for you*, so you can teach some classes here too. Fifth and sixth grade conversation.
Me: (slack-jawed amazement)
Kati: Okay, I must go.

So, apparently I’ll be teaching some classes at Kassai next year. I’m sure glad they consulted me about it - although sarcasm aside, I should probably be amazed that they’re coordinating it now and not September 1st.

But why would I teach the 5th and 6th graders? Why not the upper classes, who are preparing for English exams to get into good high schools and beyond? Instead, I’ll get in 6th grade this years 5th, one of my most terrible classes, and in 5th grade this years 4th, with whom I’ve had no contact. Sigh. I was so ready to leave Kassai on a good note - instead I’ll be not leaving on this bad one.

*which I later learned isn’t true, I could have had enough hours at Varga. Kassai just shanghaied me.

Goodbye Hello

Someday when I write my book about Hungary, I’m going to call it Goodbye Hello. Just so you know.

So a group of Americans (and a Spaniard, some Hungarians, etc) converged on Szolnok for one last weekend. In some ways it was similar to many other weekends; I could cut and paste what we did from any number of other entries: we lazed around, we drank, we ate lots of food, we wandered around aimlessly, we lay in the sunshine, we played in the water, we slept in piles, we made ATCs (rather, Sara and Bridge and I made them until the boys got fed up with us), we sat in bars, and outside of bars, and we talked.

But it was in the chatting where there was a clear difference to this weekend. Instead of talking about teaching, we talked about home. Instead of planning future weekends, we talked about summer jobs and grad school and flight prices. Instead of comparing lesson plans, we talked about American restaurants and stores.

In the end, it wasn’t a real goodbye anyway; almost everyone who was here I’ll see again, next week or in the summer. Still, it’s such an odd feeling for me now to look around a table and see both the past and the future: one year ago, I was sitting in a restaurant saying goodbye to a group of departing Americans. One year from now, I’ll be in the exact same place, sitting at another table with another group of departing Americans. It’s an unfriendly feeling that they’ll always come and go while I remain a static point.

Anyway, onward to new adventures, namely: moving. How the hell I accumulated so much junk (and heavy junk, lots of books) in less than two years is beyond me. How I’m going to pack it up and move it to the new flat.... sigh.

Peace

The strangest thing happened to me Sunday morning in a bathroom in Balatonfüred. I was sitting there at about 8am, surrounded by a hostel-full of slumbering Americans (and Brits and Aussies, etc). And it suddenly hit me how at peace I was. Everything in my life has just come together:

- although Kassai (my current school) finally let me go officially, within an hour I was offered a position next year at Varga (the super-nice, way prestigious gymnasium). So next year, if all goes to plan, I’ll have a cushy job teaching near-fluent teenagers, full pay, and free flat.

- having finally kicked my two-month stomach flu, I’m completely healthy. Maybe better than I’ve ever been. I’m just glowing with good health.

- for once, I’m completely at peace with all relatives, friends, boyfriends, and colleagues. No drama, no fights, just harmony. Too bad all but one of the Americans are abandoning me.... sniffle.

- I got a bike (inherited from one of those sniffle-inducing leaving Americans)! I’m still way too scared to actually use it on the streets, but... someday.

- Hungarian lessons are going well. I might actually be learning something. In any case, at least I’m thinking about it every day.

- the Balaton weekend was good - much better than I would have thought, given that hanging out with large groups of foreigners in a strange place is my personal idea of hell. There was a minimum of drama and a maximum of hanging around drinking and enjoying the sunshine.

- thanks to Bridget’s curiosity, I’ve gotten back into making ATCs, and having a creative outlet again has made me so much happier and more productive feeling.

- as much as I love my school, I’m accepting moving on. I feel bad about leaving my students because, next year, they likely won’t have a native speaker, but I’ve already got plans to offer them cheap private lessons or some sort of English club.

- not to mention, the majority of the kids are gratifyingly disappointed with my leaving. Today, one class stayed 10 minutes extra just to hang out.

Anyway, that’s it... coming up roses. And in the future, look for more frequent updates, since I’m about to embark on a whole new teaching adventure, both over the summer and in the fall, AND on a whole new adventure in my personal life...

True or fasza

So we spent the weekend in Szarvas, that’s all I’ll tell you. Guess which of the following are true (check out Bridget's blog for clues). Answers / explanations to follow in a couple days:

- we spent the weekend (or a chunk of it) in a cottage on the river, complete with dock and rowboat
- we invented palingria (palinka + sangria) and enjoyed quite a bit of it
- we read about heavy-petting in a Hungarian magazine for children
- we all got very, very trashed/ stoned/ inebriated/ intoxicated/ smashed / soaked
- we rowed on the river at all hours of the night and day
- we reenacted several scenes from Moby Dick (I was Moby)
- we used the rowboat to sneak into the Szarvasi Arboretum
- we spelled out GHP (Great Hungarian Plain) with our bodies
- we went “fishing,” meaning we dumped bread crumbs in the water and watched the fish flock to them (can fish flock??)
- we saw a meter-long, inch-thick green snake sunning itself near our rowboat
- I went 72 hours without listening to my MP3
- we all managed to get to and away from Szarvas with no train/bus-related problems

The best part of teaching is the weekend

Oh, Sunday mornings. This has been my day so far:

- got up. Actually: woke up, rolled over, watched SpongeBob for half an hour, then got up

- got “dressed” (pajama bottoms and oversized sweater)

- drank two coffees

- started but not finished my Hungarian homework (writing a page about my family)

- started but not finished my other Hungarian homework (memorizing the complete forms of the 7 most important verbs)

- started but not finished updating my resume

- started but not finished creating some ATCs

- pestered various people unlucky enough to have MSN Messenger (oceannia@hotmail.com; I’m usually on and frequently bored)

- gave two whole seconds of thought to my school’s upcoming Project Week, and the “tasks” I’m supposed to be planning. Well, maybe slightly more than 2 seconds. About 2 seconds, plus however long it took to write this sentence

- ate lunch (cold pizza leftovers) and cracked a beer

- dwelled on and enjoyed being in my PJs and doing nothing

- wrote this

Distraught

This week, I looked at my calendar and realized that I only have 6 more weeks of teaching, and only 3 of them full weeks. This happy realization prompted me into a fit of lesson planning, wherein I managed to plan almost all my lessons for the rest of the year. It goes without saying that I was pretty proud of myself and my work.

This morning when I opened up the plans, they were ruined. I don’t know why, but both files, a spreadsheet and a text, reverted themselves back to very, very early versions. All my work is gone.

And the worst part is, I don’t understand why. I saved both files as I was working on them, frequently. So what’s my motivation for recreating my work if there’s a possibility of losing it again?

I’m not a happy person. The only thing keeping me going right now is... well, coffee. And the ever-so-slight hope of being able to enjoy the upcoming 4-day weekend.

Two happy stories

After reading Kat’s most recent post, it occurred to me that for some strange reason beyond my comprehension, the last few weeks of teaching have been... strangely normal. It’s almost like (dare I even think it???) I’ve finally gotten some control over the kids. And (surely I won’t finish this sentence without the finger of god reaching down and crushing me) not only that they’re under control but.... actually.... learning.

Whew.

I don’t know what caused this and I doubt it’ll last, but while it does I’ll celebrate, and pass the love on by sharing two good student stories.

Story one, Robin: A bunch of the students have my msn address, and message me whenever I’m online. Emily how are you? Emily what’s your favorite color? Emily what are you doing? Emily do my homework for me. Emily Emily Emily hi hi hi. The same things every time.

A bunch of 8th graders just added me as a friend recently, so when someone unknown started messaging me the other night, I assumed it was one of them. I didn’t recognize his picture, but his English was pretty good. He asked thoughtful, well-written questions, albeit slowly, and gave full answers to my questions. We talked about me living in Hungary, how he would like to live abroad, how difficult living away from family is, how learning a foreign language is hard but fun, etc. Finally my curiosity won out and I had to know who I was talking to. How old are you? 12. Where do you go to school? Kassai, my class the 5b. My blood went cold. 5b is the terror class, the class that prompts meeting after meeting where all the teachers ponder desperately what is to be done with this group of ignorant, disobedient monsters. And then I asked his name: Robin. The leader of the monsters, or so I’ve only heard - he’s in the lowest level English class, which I don’t teach.

We continued chatting, and I continued to be amazed at this boy, who I’ve never met but have heard horror story after horror story about. Amazed that these stories could be true about a boy who I had mistaken for one of my polite, well-spoken upperclassmen.

Story two, Dávid: I’m always thrilled when the students use English when I’m not forcing them to. I overheard this jewel as I was leaving a first-period class (after which there is only a five-minute break; they're always worried about being late)

Imi: Dávid, várjal csak (wait up)!
Dávid: No, Imi! I no lating because you!

It made my day.

Working for the weekend, again

Q: What’s worse than getting up at 6:30 AM to go teach on a weekend?

A: Spending a sleepless night tossing and turning, half sick, heartsick, stressing and worrying about every possible conceivable thing, falling asleep for a few minutes of twitchy nightmarish dozing, and being woken by a text message at 6:14. Oh, what a glorious day it’s going to be.

Two unrelated stories

I was going to post these two things separately, but I realized that they go together somehow. Or, I’m just too lazy to push the publish button twice.

Story One: For some time, I’ve known that the Szolnoki Fõiskola has an English club which meets weekly. I’ve been meaning to go, but like my ever-present good intentions of making lessons plans, cleaning my flat, getting my life in order.... somehow I just never went.

This week, I finally coaxed Petra into going with me (I’m too much of a coward to go alone). Then she backed out, but after a couple of hours of debating with myself, I decided to go anyway. I checked and re-checked their website to find what time and where. Then I overslept (or over-napped) and woke up with 10 minutes to get fixed up and run over through a windstorm and under a heavy, cloudy sky. And for all my stressing, what did I get when I arrived? A sign on the locked door, announcing a postponement until next week.

Story Two: I mentioned above how somehow, my lesson plans are never finished? Well, on Thursday afternoon when I should have been making them, I was instead watching episode after episode of Spongebob and dozing like a cat in the afternoon sunlight. At one point as I rolled over and stretched, it occurred to my sleep-fuzzed brain how awesome it would be if I had a Spongebob pillow.

Fast-forward a couple hours, and what do John and Donna bring me? A Spongebob bag, into which I promptly stuffed a pillow form.

The moral of these two stories (to be taken with a large grain of salt, of course)? That English-speaking Hungarians let you down, but Americans will always come through for you.

Spring Break in Cyprus

They say that a picture is worth a thousand words. That being true, and I being extremely lazy, I present to you Cyprus through pictures, with limited captions, and links to more info courtesy of Wikipedia:

No trip should begin without a beer at the Szolnok train station. Followed by a beer on the train, a beer at Kobanya-Kispest, a beer outside the airport, a beer inside the airport...

Donna and I at our villa's dining table, planning out our first day.


The villa was well-equipped with a full kitchen, comfy couches, coffee-maker, flat-screen tvs, etc etc etc.


And a pool table. We played several times, for various stakes....


... which included the loser taking a dive into our slightly-above-freezing pool.


The market in Nicosia, very similar to the market in Szolnok except for that watch tower.


Walking down the street in Nicosia (the last divided capital in the world, according to Lonely Planet) we suddenly came to one of the streets blocked off by a wall of barrels.

Donna and Attila in Lefkora, a tiny village which is famous for it's lace and silver.


Myself and Attila in Lefkora.


The Roman ruins at Kourion.


More of the ruins.


A typical road in the Troodos Mountains. I successfully navigated our way in and out of the mountains, driving an unfamilar right-hand-drive car on the left side of the road. (Just in case there's a single person left on earth I haven't mentioned it to yet... I was the only driver in our group who managed to avoid hitting anything. John and Attis both whacked the passenger side mirror, while Donna wisely refrained from driving.)


The mountains. I wish I had better pictures of the tiny villages and narrow roads through them.


At the top of the mountains, we abandoned the car and took a horse-back ride through the woods.


The last shot, a sad picture: me leaving our villa complex at 1 AM to go catch the plane home.

Two Conversations

I’m working on updates, namely on stories from Spring Break: Cyprus, and I promise to get that up as soon as I get the accompanying pictures. In the meantime, two conversations that happened my first day back after break:

One: my plane-bus-train combination was running late. I would arrive in Szolnok at 9:45, giving me about 20 minutes to sprint across town, dump my luggage, and run to the school. So I lazed out and smsed my contact teacher that I wouldn’t make it.
About 10, having gotten no response, I called her:

Me: Hello, Kati?
Kati (sounding just thrilled to hear from me): Yes, Emily. Hello?
Me: Did you get my sms?
Kati: Your sms?
Me: Um, yes, I sent you a message?
Kati: Oh, yes, I saw that you sent me something a few hours ago, but I didn’t read it (I almost banged my head against the wall) because I didn’t know if it was important or not (I actually banged my hand against the wall.) Why, was it important?
Me (deep breath): Um, yeah, kind of. My train is late, so I don’t think I’ll make my class this hour. At 10.
Kati: You will come late? We will start the class and you come later?
Me: Well, I could do that. Just, I don’t have any idea when I’ll be there.
Kati: So you will be late?
Me: Um, right. I don’t know how late.
Kati: Hm.
Me: Maybe it’s better to just cancel the class?
Kati: You have classes later?
Me: Yes, at 1 o’clock. I’ll be there for that one.
Kati: Okay, bye.
Me. Bye- wait, what?

So I didn’t go to class, and didn’t get in trouble for not going, so she must have covered it somehow. Seriously, who on earth gets an sms and doesn’t read it??

Second conversation, with a brilliantly perceptive little 6th grader:
Balázs (very politely, as always): Emily, help?
Me: Yes, what is it?
Balázs: Hogy van angolul shblahblah?
Me, confidently: Dragon.
Balázs (after thinking for half a beat): No, nem ‘sárkány,’ hanem ‘sátán.’
Me: Oh, Satan! Sorry.
Balázs: No problem, Emily.

The fact that I have students who can switch quickly enough between English and Hungarian to recognize my own mistranslation is amazing to me.

My mom always complains that I don’t email or call enough. I’ve been particularly bad the last few weeks - probably the same lethargy that makes blogging such a chore. But it seemed like there was just nothing interesting, worth writing about.

I realized last night that that’s not true; I was just in a rut. A deep, safe comfortable little rut where I thought everything would be the same in the future as it is now. Until last night when I learned, via Hajni, that my school won’t be rehiring me next year. They say they don’t have enough money for it.

The twelve remaining weeks of school used to seem so long - at least now they’ll fly by. Every second that ticks off shoves me one second closer to the time when I’ll be jobless, homeless, prospectless.

How am I supposed to go in and teach like this isn’t weighing on my mind like a ton of bricks? What can I do? Do I want to fight for my job at Kassai? What would I sacrifice to keep this job? The free flat, the shorter hours? Would I go over CETP’s head and contract directly with the school? Could I get the Varga position? Ken might leave anyway; if he doesn’t would I be desperate enough to push him out? Could I get the position in Újszász? Do they only hire couples? But maybe that would be a worse place to be in, so close to Szolnok but not actually in it - would be better to move to a whole new city? Is it possible to stay in Szolnok and support myself by private teaching? Can I do it, and do I want to? How would that affect my future with CETP? What the hell am I going to do over the summer, homeless and incomeless? Why am I so attached to Szolnok? What do I really have here? Nothing I can be sure of, nothing secure, so why is the thought of leaving so terrifying?

Another story from the Porn Kids class

At a loss of what to do with the 8th Grade Monsters (aka the Porn Kids) last week, I decided to make them write circulating stories (i.e. each student writes a few lines of the story before passing it on). This was one of the stories they handed in, written by four boys and one girl (guess which part the girl wrote):

Yesterday when I met my girlfriend (illegible, three words). We went to my bedroom and started to take off clothes. We started (?)ly but later we were (?)er and (?)er. / When the girl and a boy stat the fuch (sic), before they play the frontgame. They go to bed, and they / made a children. They were lived in a flat in London and they have f***ed every day. When they get bored they called some more people do in groupper. / And they had more than 50 friend. When they did it together the neighbors called to the police. And they had to go to the police and they f***ed (illegible, two words). / She very likes animals. Her favourite food is the pizza.

I’m going to refer to this story the next time someone asks me why I started calling this group the Porn Kids. At least they’re creative.

Just when I thought it couldn’t get more unfair...

- What’s worse than being simply awake at 6 am on a Saturday morning?
- Being fully awake and upright, fully dressed and caffeinated at 6 am on a Saturday morning.

- What’s worse than being fully awake and upright and dressed and caffeinated at 6 am on a Saturday morning?
- Being awake, upright, dressed and caffeinated at 6 am on a Saturday morning the the purpose of going to work (see Sara’s blog for her rant about why we have to work on a Saturday).

- What’s even worse than being grudgingly awake and alert for the purpose of working on a Saturday morning (at 6 am, have I stressed that enough?)?
- Being with someone who is willingly and cheerfully awake, upright, dressed, and caffeinated at 6 am on a Saturday morning for the purpose of leaving on a week-long vacation. Grrrr.

After wallowing in the general unfairness of life for a good minute and a half, I went to work, played games, and generally enjoyed seeing the kids in a different light. And kept my mind on things to come: a Saturday in Szarvas, a weekend in Wien, a spring break in Cyprus.

Women's Day part 2

I must admit, I was ever so slightly put out yesterday at my lack of Women’s Day loot. I mean, only two flowers?? Today, I got two more presents, and what they lacked in quality, quantity or timeliness, they totally made up for in presentation.

Situation one - I go to my first class of the day, 5th grade. I notice out of the corner of my eye that one of the little boys is carrying a flower. When I turn around after putting down my things, the flower is sitting on the desk and the boy is studiously ignoring me (he is NOT a shy child, which makes it funny). The girls in the back of the class start teasing him, “Martin, what are you doing? Don’t you have something to say? Don’t you want your puszi (the double cheek kiss)?” Martin avoids eye contact with me and the girls wish me “Happy Women Day” on his behalf.

Situation two - in the teacher’s room before school. I’m getting some papers together when a bottle of wine appears on my desk in front of me. “Here you go,” says my contact teacher cheerfully (she is NOT a happy person, which makes this one funny). “I thought of chocolate, but - eh.” She smiling widely, which is so strange that it creeps me out a little. “This is more useful, you can drink it with your friends.” And damn if she wasn’t right; I’d prefer wine over chocolate any day. Sharing with my friends, however...

Women's Day

Today marks the third year I’ve been in Hungary on Women’s Day, and the third year that it caught me completely by surprise. The first year, my semester abroad, I was at my roommate Anna’s house for the weekend. Her father gave us flowers and little candies, but between my nonexistent Hungarian, his nonexistent English, and Anna’s limited English, I didn’t really comprehend the reason why.

My second year, my students showered me with flowers and candy, and once again I got through half the day without having a clue why. Eventually some kind English-speaker clued me in.

This year I did slightly better. When I walked into the flower-filled teachers’ room this morning, I knew immediately that it had to be either Women’s Day or Teachers’ Day, and that was soon straightened out.

I got fewer flowers this year. The best present I was a little conversation with one my 6th grade girls. Imagine her speaking Hungarian, me answering in English:

Kinga: And next year, what will you do?
Me: I don’t know.
Kinga: Okay, fine, but will you be here?
Me, more forcefully: I don’t know.
Kinga: Oh, please stay! Otherwise who knows what kind of stupid new person we’d get.

Even thought it’s not really a stunning endorsement, it was still heartwarming.

Az üzenet az üzenet (the message is the message)

“Don’t worry, there are many hours in the day.”
“Yeah, and I’m sure you’ll find a way to waste them all.”

My waste de jour: Two-Tailed Dog Party

(click on the British flag for a language similar to ours)