I've been both looking forward to and dreading this week for some time. It's been (and will continue to be) filled with all sorts of fun activities, but I'm getting low on sleep. Let me fill you in on some of the details. Monday night I returned to my church's weekly coffee house event which is mainly run for refugees. It's wonderful to spend time with people from Nigeria, Iran, Ethiopia, and other very different cultures. It's funny that I can be living in what is a foreign country to me and still miss international culture. I'm exposed to my American values and the general Hungarian culture, but rarely do I interact with any other cultural groups. For that reason coffee house is a breath of fresh air. Tuesday I was fortunate to have my regional director here, all the way from LA. She observed one of my classes (I felt much better about it this time!), and we got to have lunch and hang out for most of the afternoon. Our visit to parliament to see St. Istvan's crown was a success, and it was a treat to have some good discussions with her about my teaching and the rest of my life. Last night I went out to celebrate my teammate's birthday and had one of the fanciest evenings I've ever had in my life. We dined in style. Went out for cocktails. I even wore my tie. For a brief moment I felt like part of a culture I've never known, but then it past. It's amazing how much money makes a difference in your approach to life. Tonight I'm off to see Madame Butterfly in the cheap seats at the Opera House. And then tomorrow I jump on the train right after school to go to Prague and some friends' school ball. And somewhere in this whole process I have to find time to grade the quizzes I gave this week (yes, I stupidly gave every single one of my students a quiz in the same week - what a fool!).
When I have weeks like this I wonder a little bit. As most of you know, I'm here to do a job. I have a strong sense of calling and commitment to this work, and that keeps me going. However, weeks like this I wonder if I'm allowed to have this much fun! Going to fancy restaurants, taking in the opera, and gallivanting around Eastern Europe is not why I came to Budapest, so the good ol' Calvinist work ethic/guilt complex fires up. I think I'm doing my best to live up to my calling, but the clouds of my own disapproval gather when I live "the good life." I think about other places I could have sent the money I paid for a nice bottle of wine last night. I think about the activities with my students I could organize this weekend instead of dashing off to Prague. Then a still, small voice in the back of my head pops up and says (in a voice that sounds surprisingly like Laura Smit), "Rest, and enjoy the beauty of creation." This, of course, is solid Calvinist doctrine. To quote the CRC contemporary testimony, Our World Belongs to God, "Rest and leisure are gifts of God to relax us and to set us free to discover and to explore. Believing that he provides for us we can rest more trustingly and entertain ourselves more simply." Maybe I could work on the simplicity part of that, but the idea that leisure sets me free from my own expectations of myself is wonderful. It reminds me that the work I do is not mine to do. I am God's instrument - his tool - and as such I'm not the one who has the final say in the success or failure of the work. What a relief! I think the only thing I can do in response is to go enjoy the opera.
11/30/2005
11/24/2005
Happy Thanksgiving!
Somewhere somebody once said you never appreciate things until they're gone. At least I think somebody said that, and if not I'm saying it. I'm feeling pretty mixed emotions about tomorrow, to be frank. It's my first Thanksgiving away from America, and I miss so many of the traditional holiday trappings (ask my family - they'll confirm I'm a tradition nut). I'm very glad I'll get to celebrate with my TeachOverseas colleagues tomorrow (I'm even skipping school!), but when I roll out of bed tomorrow morning I'll miss smelling Mom cooking the sausage for stuffing (and to you doubters, yes, my mom's stuffing has sausage in it, and it's the best stuffing in the world... so there). I have great memories of our "international-flavored" Thanksgivings back in State College, playing in the Thanksgiving Day football game with Uncle Dan in Holland, and the wonderful hospitality of the DeVries family in Grand Rapids (they even made me brussel sprouts!). There's so much to be thankful for, but I think it's good for me to step back from the tradition a bit. I've learned so much about my own culture in my short time here, and seeing things through the eyes of my students and my Hungarian colleagues helps me to understand myself. So tomorrow will be a different sort of celebration for me. Amidst the incredible blessedness I feel, I think I'll wonder about some of those things I've always been thankful for. Is my life really so much better because of the affluence, the things, and the luxuries I have? But don't worry - I won't let it get me too down. There's a lot of turkey and pumpkin pie to be eaten! Happy Thanksgiving to you all!
11/21/2005
snow
In an effort to be more positive I will now list the five best things about snow in Budapest:
5) It covers up the trash left in the field I walk across on my way to school.
4) It is yet another reason to be thankful for the terrific public transit here - I never have to drive in it.
3) I'm not sure but I think mulled wine tastes better when it's snowing.
2) Ice skating in City Park by Heroes' Square is even more fun when Vajdahunyad Castle is dusted with snow.
And the number one reason: 1) It makes it feel like Grand Rapids!
Actually, that was a joke. The real number one reason is that a trip to the outdoor thermal baths in the snow is incredible. And here's something a friend sent me today that I loved. It's by Stanley Hauerwas (I think). "The beauty of a green leaf turning red, the brightness of a stranger's face, the joy of a cat at play, the sheer wonder coming from the generosity of friends--for all this and so much more we give you thanks, we praise you, gifting God. Help us remember, however, that you have made us, through Jesus Christ, your thanksgiving sacrifice for a world that refuses to acknowledge its giftedness. Let us rush again and again to your feast of the new age, where you provide the space and time for us to enjoy being your joy."
5) It covers up the trash left in the field I walk across on my way to school.
4) It is yet another reason to be thankful for the terrific public transit here - I never have to drive in it.
3) I'm not sure but I think mulled wine tastes better when it's snowing.
2) Ice skating in City Park by Heroes' Square is even more fun when Vajdahunyad Castle is dusted with snow.
And the number one reason: 1) It makes it feel like Grand Rapids!
Actually, that was a joke. The real number one reason is that a trip to the outdoor thermal baths in the snow is incredible. And here's something a friend sent me today that I loved. It's by Stanley Hauerwas (I think). "The beauty of a green leaf turning red, the brightness of a stranger's face, the joy of a cat at play, the sheer wonder coming from the generosity of friends--for all this and so much more we give you thanks, we praise you, gifting God. Help us remember, however, that you have made us, through Jesus Christ, your thanksgiving sacrifice for a world that refuses to acknowledge its giftedness. Let us rush again and again to your feast of the new age, where you provide the space and time for us to enjoy being your joy."
11/19/2005
a few photos
Some favorite fall break photos...
"Mad" King Ludwig's Castle in Bavaria (and the model for Disneyland):
"Mad" King Ludwig's Castle in Bavaria (and the model for Disneyland):
The Austrian Alps: 
A favorite Munich activity:
observation
As I alluded to in my last post, it's been a busy week. I found time for some fun activities (the opera on Wednesday night and after school table tennis with my students, to name a few), but my work week was dominated by the four class observations I had this week (one unofficial).
This is the first time anyone besides my students has seen me teach, and it was a little disconcerting. It probably goes without saying, but I think about my students when I plan my lessons, when I teach, and when I grade. Their needs are foremost in my mind. This week, though, as I prepared to be observed by my department chair, my ESI country director, and a group of about 20 or 25 guests for Pedagogy Day I started to think about other things. What would other people think of my teaching techniques? What nifty slick tricks do I have up my sleeve that I can use to wow these other teachers? Instead of focusing on what my students' needed (to practice using "would" for imaginary situations so they stop saying things like, "If I went to the beach I will take sunscreen so I will not burn down") I focused on what would impress other teachers.
The thing is, it worked. The other teachers liked my lessons, and I got good feedback. I felt lousy about one of the four observations (the "unofficial" one, fortunately), but otherwise I thought I had done pretty well. Then last night I was unwinding by reading Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (again), and I was blown away by how caught up in other people's opinions they were. Why does Ron care so much that he might not be able to apperate? Why does Harry worry that people will think he put Ron on the quidditch team just because they're mates?
I was actually thinking to myself, "boy, am I glad I'm not in that world anymore" when it hit me. That's exactly what I did this week. I sold out my students, and taught them lessons that were designed so they could show off their (and consequently my) brilliance, instead of ones that challenged them and taught them new things, and I did it because I was worried about what other people would think. In a word, pathetic. I owe them an apology for forgetting why I'm a teacher.
This is the first time anyone besides my students has seen me teach, and it was a little disconcerting. It probably goes without saying, but I think about my students when I plan my lessons, when I teach, and when I grade. Their needs are foremost in my mind. This week, though, as I prepared to be observed by my department chair, my ESI country director, and a group of about 20 or 25 guests for Pedagogy Day I started to think about other things. What would other people think of my teaching techniques? What nifty slick tricks do I have up my sleeve that I can use to wow these other teachers? Instead of focusing on what my students' needed (to practice using "would" for imaginary situations so they stop saying things like, "If I went to the beach I will take sunscreen so I will not burn down") I focused on what would impress other teachers.
The thing is, it worked. The other teachers liked my lessons, and I got good feedback. I felt lousy about one of the four observations (the "unofficial" one, fortunately), but otherwise I thought I had done pretty well. Then last night I was unwinding by reading Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (again), and I was blown away by how caught up in other people's opinions they were. Why does Ron care so much that he might not be able to apperate? Why does Harry worry that people will think he put Ron on the quidditch team just because they're mates?
I was actually thinking to myself, "boy, am I glad I'm not in that world anymore" when it hit me. That's exactly what I did this week. I sold out my students, and taught them lessons that were designed so they could show off their (and consequently my) brilliance, instead of ones that challenged them and taught them new things, and I did it because I was worried about what other people would think. In a word, pathetic. I owe them an apology for forgetting why I'm a teacher.
11/15/2005
don't worry, I'm fine (or am I?)
It seems that going a week without posting anything on my blog causes some worry among friends and family on the other side of the world. I guess that probably says something about my poor communication skills in other forums. My plan, mentioned in my last post, to bounce back from vacation with strength and vigor was derailed by a bad cold and cough. Instead I spent three days of last week at home in bed, eating strange Hungarian soup mixes, listening to soothing music, watching an occasional episode of Joan of Arcadia, and trying not to cough too much. I mainly stayed home so my students wouldn’t have the chance to make fun of my frog voice. I believe I’m back up to normal strength, which is good because I have a busy week ahead.
Between the road trip and my brief stint as an invalid I had some time to think, so I turned to my favorite subject: myself. Don Miller says we’re all “lifeboat people,” that is like those stranded at sea in a lifeboat trying not to be the one who gets it when the water runs out. To prevent that from happening we focus our energy on proving our significance to others, usually at the expense of others. I’ve only been in my current life situation for two and a half months, but it’s the most independent I’ve ever been in my life. It’s easy for me to fall into the lifeboat trap because I have few people around for whom I need to sacrifice my wishes and desires. As I teacher I essentially impose my will on my students (not necessarily a bad thing), and since I’m basically living alone I don’t have to worry about shared living space relationships. I don’t spend much time with friends, and when I do it’s often sadly superficial. Right now everything I do happens on my terms, and that’s not healthy.
Several recent events have brought this truth into stark reality: my parents’ visit (do I need to elaborate?), my trip with Sam, a recent e-mail from a friend living and working in some amazing Intentional Christian Community in New York City, an article I read on “the new monasticism” of urban ICCs that sounded so much like what we wanted Project Neighborhood to be last year (and sometimes was), and a few good chats with good friends. While being convicted of selfishness and self-idolatry is not a fun process, it’s made me draw closer to my many communities. As a Christian I’m called to live in community with my brothers and sisters, and that inevitably means sharing, compromising, giving, letting go of my need to feel worldly significance (read: superior to others), and serving others. I’ve been ignoring or avoiding that calling of late.
As usual, it feels good to get this out in the open (even if it’s through the passive channel that is my blog). The next step is for me to speak to those with whom I’m committed to being in community. Then I need to remember that my Christian ministry begins with my example of Christianity, and true Christian communities demonstrate God’s love in deep and beautiful ways. Perhaps by making this public I will force myself into a little accountability. As Luke Girardi would say, “Hey, Copernicus called. He wanted you to know he discovered the world doesn’t revolve around you.”
Between the road trip and my brief stint as an invalid I had some time to think, so I turned to my favorite subject: myself. Don Miller says we’re all “lifeboat people,” that is like those stranded at sea in a lifeboat trying not to be the one who gets it when the water runs out. To prevent that from happening we focus our energy on proving our significance to others, usually at the expense of others. I’ve only been in my current life situation for two and a half months, but it’s the most independent I’ve ever been in my life. It’s easy for me to fall into the lifeboat trap because I have few people around for whom I need to sacrifice my wishes and desires. As I teacher I essentially impose my will on my students (not necessarily a bad thing), and since I’m basically living alone I don’t have to worry about shared living space relationships. I don’t spend much time with friends, and when I do it’s often sadly superficial. Right now everything I do happens on my terms, and that’s not healthy.
Several recent events have brought this truth into stark reality: my parents’ visit (do I need to elaborate?), my trip with Sam, a recent e-mail from a friend living and working in some amazing Intentional Christian Community in New York City, an article I read on “the new monasticism” of urban ICCs that sounded so much like what we wanted Project Neighborhood to be last year (and sometimes was), and a few good chats with good friends. While being convicted of selfishness and self-idolatry is not a fun process, it’s made me draw closer to my many communities. As a Christian I’m called to live in community with my brothers and sisters, and that inevitably means sharing, compromising, giving, letting go of my need to feel worldly significance (read: superior to others), and serving others. I’ve been ignoring or avoiding that calling of late.
As usual, it feels good to get this out in the open (even if it’s through the passive channel that is my blog). The next step is for me to speak to those with whom I’m committed to being in community. Then I need to remember that my Christian ministry begins with my example of Christianity, and true Christian communities demonstrate God’s love in deep and beautiful ways. Perhaps by making this public I will force myself into a little accountability. As Luke Girardi would say, “Hey, Copernicus called. He wanted you to know he discovered the world doesn’t revolve around you.”
11/04/2005
i love Bavaria (and more)
So, to summarize, vacation's good. After travelling through Austria (hitting both Vienna and Salzburg, with a drive through the alps and the Austrian lake district) and Germany (Munich and Bavaria), I'm relaxing in Praha (Prague). The lovely Aaron and Phoebe graciously agreed to host us, even though their two year old son, Nehemiah, proceeded to run around laughing, screaming, and throwing himself on the floor for a good hour after we arrived. He likes new people, I think.
Some brief highlights include seeing cows wearing actual cowbells, mad king Ludwig's castle (the model for the Disneyworld castle), drinking beer and eating soft pretzels in Munich, the Austrian Alps (which look surprisingly like western WA), going to All Saint's Day mass in Munich, and catching up with friends (Christina in Vienna, all the Cheb/Sokolov ESI folk, and now the Prague gang). I wish I could give you the blow by blow of all of Sam and my adventures, but it would be longer than a Rick Steeve travel book.
Mostly, though, it's been wonderful to get away from the routine. I love getting away from the daily grind, because it makes going back to the grind so comforting. Nothing makes me appreciate the little daily things like a few days away from them. I think I'll return to my teaching duties next week with renewed vigor and energy. But until then, a few more sights to see...
Some brief highlights include seeing cows wearing actual cowbells, mad king Ludwig's castle (the model for the Disneyworld castle), drinking beer and eating soft pretzels in Munich, the Austrian Alps (which look surprisingly like western WA), going to All Saint's Day mass in Munich, and catching up with friends (Christina in Vienna, all the Cheb/Sokolov ESI folk, and now the Prague gang). I wish I could give you the blow by blow of all of Sam and my adventures, but it would be longer than a Rick Steeve travel book.
Mostly, though, it's been wonderful to get away from the routine. I love getting away from the daily grind, because it makes going back to the grind so comforting. Nothing makes me appreciate the little daily things like a few days away from them. I think I'll return to my teaching duties next week with renewed vigor and energy. But until then, a few more sights to see...
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