response to a letter from a six year old

Dear Hannah,
Thanks for your letter! It's always exciting to get messages from friends back in the United States! Did you know I used to do Awanas, a long time ago before I moved to Washington? I'll try to answer as many of your questions as I can!


I like it a lot here in Hungary. I really like the food, especially some of the sweet goodies. My favorite is something called Turos Taska. It's a pastry with something like sweet spicy cottage cheese inside, sometimes with raisins.








Another popular pastry is Meggyes Retes, or sour cherry strudel.





They have a special market they open around Christmas and Easter, and besides all the booths that sell hand crafts, wood carvings, and all that, they have places to get food. I always get Kürtőskalács. It's very tasty, and they make it right there in front of you!





If people want to get something quick in Hungary sometimes they will have a hamburger (we have McDonalds and Burger King here), but they might get a gyro instead. The person working will take a giant knife and slice some meat off the rotating cooker, and then put it in pita bread with come vegetables and sauce. It's Greek food, but Hungarians like it a lot!







The most famous Hungarian food is Gulyas Soup. It's a spicy beef soup with potatoes, vegetables, and homemade noodles in it. Gulyas is made with paprika, a well-known Hungarian spice that your mom probably has in her cupboard!







Lots of Hungarians really like paprika, and the simple dish of chicken with paprika is very popular too.






I take Hungarian language lessons once a week, and my teacher is very nice. It's hard (much harder than learning Spanish!), but I get to practice a lot. My students like to teach me Hungarian in class too, sometimes. They think it's funny when I try to say things because I'm not very good yet. My students are very smart and speak a lot of English already. Some of them didn't speak any at the beginning of the year. That was hard because I had to act things out, sort of like charades. Now they know a lot, and I don't have to act things out much anymore. Sometimes they still speak in Hungarian and I have to tell them to speak in English so I can understand them. They get in trouble if they speak too much Hungarian! Mostly they are a lot like you and your brothers and sisters. They like to play sports and video games. They ride bikes and go fishing. They don't always like to do their homework, but they're always fun to be around. My favorite thing we did in class was reading The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe together. I even made them act out important parts of the book! And yes, we talk about Jesus in class sometimes. My students know that my faith is something that's very important to me, and when we talk about ourselves, what we like, or even what we did on the weekend, it comes up in conversation. Sometimes it's hard because I just want to be friends with my students, but I have to be their teacher too. It would be nice if I could just sit and talk with them in English every day, but I have important things to teach them (like grammar!) so I try to make it as fun as I can.

Thanks again for writing to me, Hannah. It made me very happy to hear from you. Say hello to your Dad, your Mom, Laura, Tim, and Katie for me. I will be back in Washington this summer, and I'll be sure to come over to your house and show you pictures sometime!

yours,
Matt

my smart brother

I don't have a brother. I do have two brother-in-laws, and they're both engineers. They're both smart. One of them, Steve, is so smart that they wrote an article about his company in the local paper. He doesn't show up until the last paragraph, and they got his info wrong, but I'm still proud of him. Also, he came to Budpest to visit me a week ago!

mini vacation

March 15 (Wednesday) is a national holiday in Hungary. It celebrates the 1848 Hungarian rebellion against the Austrian Hapsburg Empire. In honor of the day we have no school today, tomorrow, and Wednesday (though we had school on Saturday to get that third day off), and so I’m celebrating by going to Vienna. On the way I’ve stopped in Bratislava (which is now forever etched in my mind as the city of unceasing wind). I was able to worship at a new English-speaking church plant last night, The Well. It was an eclectic service featuring two Taize refrains, two hymns, two Chris Tomlin songs, two “meditation areas” with lots of icons, two minutes (or more) of quiet time to meditate on scripture (leccio divina), and two former members of the pastoral staff at Church of the Open Door in Twin Cities, MN (one a professional musician and the other a former baseball player). Needless to say, I loved it.

My destination in Vienna is primarily the Kunshistoriche (Museum of Fine Art). I’ve read that it has a collection rivaling the Louver and the British National Gallery, with especially good examples of the 16th and 17th century Dutch and Flemish painters (Peter Paul Ruebens, Rembrandt, Van Dyke, Ver Meer, and others). I’m especially fond of their realistic approach to the human form (warts, wrinkles, love handles, and all), as opposed to the contemporary Italians (Titian, Caravaggio, etc.) who seemed only interested in creating perfect humans. I haven’t done much (any) art museuming in Europe, mainly because I’ve been intimidated. My plan on Wednesday is to go with those paintings specifically in mind, spend some time with them, try to get background info on them (audioguide, here I come!), and merely peruse the rest of the collection. Let’s hope I can become a true art connoisseur during my time in Europe!

lenten questions

My church is doing a weekly bible study during lent that focuses on the question, who is Jesus? In our first meeting we were given these questions to get us thinking a bit:

Do you think that Jesus was ever truly tempted to go against the will of God?
Do you believe that Jesus thought the world was flat?
Do you think Jesus understood the internet?
Which do you think is more important: 1) recognizing that Jesus was more than a teacher, or 2) living by his teachings?
Which more nearly expresses your conviction about Jesus: 1) He was a Godly man, 2) He was a manly God, 3) He was God and man, 4) I haven’t a clue.
The Nicene Creed(AD 325) declares that Jesus is “very God and very man.” Does this suggest that while the Christ “became flesh” and lived within a human body; at the same time he always thought the thoughts of God?
Do you think that the “soul” of Jesus died as well as his body when he was crucified?

not a sexist?

So I've been told that it's blog against sexism day. To this I respond, "I'm against sexism and I blog - perfect!" One particular area where sexism gets to me is the intersection of gender and language, genderlects. Although this is a notoriously difficult area of linguistic research, a lot has been done in the last 35 years to investigate how and why men and women communicate differently. In 1973 Robin Lakoff published Language and Woman's Place, citing studies in which men interrupted women more, speak more than women, choose conversational topics more than women, and generally dominate conversation more. Lakoff's explanation was that these were societally conditioned behaviors based on the training we receive as children (girls to be polite and accepting, boys to be competitive).

Then there's Deborah Tannen, a current scholar, who focuses on the differences between male and female communication styles, and claims that neither is inherently better or worse. She describes males as conversational status-seekers and females as conversational connection-seekers. She uses similar evidence to Lakoff and adds that men tend to tell more stories and jokes in conversation (usually about themselves), women ask more questions in conversations, and women seek to avoid conflict where men pursue it. Tannen avoids making judgments on why these differences arise, acknowledging only that socialization plays a large role in their development.

I'm not sure where I stand on this, but I know we should be talking about where these differences come from and what they mean. Intuitively, I want to say that women and men are simply created differently, but that's the dreamer in me coming out. We live in a society that tells men they need to be as big, tough, strong, and independent as they can be (anybody who doubts that should check out the work of William Pollack). This same society tells women they need to be an innocent, submissive damsel in distress (and simultaneously a temptress, but that's another discussion). You can't tell me that doesn't impact the way we communicate. Perhaps, as Tannen says, we just communicate differently and one way is no inherently better or worse than the other. I'm a bit more inclined to think the worst though.

cell culture (part two)

Today is Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent. I've shared my love of Epiphany, but Lent is the liturgical season that really gets me. Maybe it's because I'm a softie at heart and I love the melancholy, or maybe I just like the reflecting part of it, analyzing my life and striving to live my faith more intentionally. Somebody recently asked me what Lent was all about and I didn't have a good succinct answer. Traditionally it's the period of time used to prepare new converts for baptism by educating them in the basics of the faith (catechesis), and that's become a general period of growth, self-reflection, renewed dedication, and purification.

After recently reflecting on cell phones and my own cell usage, I've decided to fast from my cell for Lent. Since it is my only phone there will be exceptions covered by a few ground rules (I get to use my phone on from 7 to 8 every night to check messages and take care of any calls for the day, if somebody calls me over and over and over again I'll answer because it's probably an emergency or something, and I'll use it if I need to call in sick). I think it'll be a difficult but very healthy exercise for me. I want to change the way I think about time, and this is a good first step. My cell has become a crutch I lean on when I am not content to simply allow time to pass by. Maybe this will break that habit.

There are a few side effects that I'm anticipating. First, my cell is also my watch, so by leaving it buried in the bottom of my bag I'm cutting off my nearly continuous habit of checking what time it is. I tell myself it's because I hate being late, but it's really because I hate feeling like I'm not in control. When I don't know what time it is I can't plan ahead for every contingency (as in, "if a 2 tram comes first I can take it to Vigado Ter and then walk to the yellow metro, meaning I'll get to my stop with seven minutes for the five minute walk to church. But, if the 4 or 6 tram comes first I'll take it to Oktogon and then I'll have to power walk it because I'll have 9 minutes to do an 11 minute walk"). This will mean I'm giving up more of my controlling attitudes. Second, it will actually force me to be more intentional about spending time with people. I won't be able to call them up at the drop of the hat, but will have to arrange things in advance via e-mail or during my token hour. And with all that extra time not using my cell will put into my schedule I hope to... just be.

spring look

Before:















After:

cell culture

I found Lauren Winner's thoughts on cell phones to be very provocative and even more applicable in Europe. I think I'm going to try to eliminate language from my vocabulary that equates time with money (spend, maximize, use, save, etc.). Maybe I'll give up my cell phone for lent (eek!).

random budapest bits

1. My friend Aaron came to visit. We are proud graduates of Calvin College.



















2. I saw my first Hummer in Budapest a few days ago. I kicked its tire in anger.




3. And for a bit of contrast, the next day I saw a Trabant...















...with a huge spoiler. Beautiful!

fundamentalism

I had a scary moment a few days ago. On Monday nights I go to a Hungarian conversation group run by my church here in Budapest. It’s good language practice and good fun. I met a new member of the group this week, and after chatting a bit I realized I had set off this fellow American ex-pat’s fundamentalist warning bells. This was strange because I usually find myself on the liberal end of the spectrum of American Christianity, and I tend to interact with people who are more fundamentalist than me. I even try to eschew the term evangelical, though I know it probably describes me pretty accurately. For the first time in a while (about six months) I was meeting someone who was at the same place I am on this “spectrum,” if not farther left, and I was coming off as a dreaded “fundi.”

It got me thinking. Since we make these judgments so quickly, categorizing other Christians in a flash, they must be based on the language we use to talk about faith. Looking back over the short interaction I had with this person I realized I had used some evangelical buzzwords. Initially I was embarrassed for using them, but then I got upset that a certain group of Christians has commandeered some otherwise useful vocabulary. Take, for example, the words “born again.” I remember first hearing them in Sunday School when we heard the story of Jesus and Nicodemus. It was this kind of strange (but useful) analogy that Jesus makes between becoming a Christian and actually starting life again. I assumed that “born again” was synonymous with “Christian.” Later in life I learned that some use the phrase to describe only a certain type of Christian, not all of them. Language can, of course, be a bond that ties groups together or a barrier that keeps outsiders away (usually both), but does it determine my identity in the context of believers? Simply because I know these words does that mean I really am an evangelical? Or do I know these words because I’m an evangelical in denial?

in which I eat crow

I have a confession to make: last Sunday afternoon I went to the movies and I enjoyed myself. No, I’m not guilt-ridden because I went to the cinema, or even because I went on a Sunday (though I have no doubt my grandfather would not have been impressed). The problem is that I enjoyed the particular movie I saw: Pride and Prejudice. That’s right. I, an avowed Jane Austen hater, enjoyed the latest film version of one of her novels. Someone check the sky for flying swine.

Before we get too carried away, let me explain. I grew up with older sisters who read and loved all the typical older sister books: the Anne of Green Gables series, the Brontes, the random trashy romance, and, of course, Jane Austen (Zane Gray being the notable exception). Being a typical younger brother, I ridiculed them for reading such “girly” books at every opportunity. The summer before I entered eighth grade I was going after one of them (I think Jen) for reading Austen when she very reasonably asked me if I had ever read any. I was crestfallen because she was right. That day I dug up a copy of Pride and Prejudice and started. I was determined to finish it, and though it took me three years, I did. My general pattern was to read steadily for about two weeks, get so angry I would throw the book across my bedroom, go back to reading Horatio Hornblower for a few months, then return to Austen in my dogged determination to get the moral high ground on my sisters. I finally finished the stupid thing, and guess what showed up on the syllabus for my 12^th grade world lit class – that’s right. I’ve since raised my repertoire of Austen novels to two because I had to read Persuasion in college.

I don’t want to alienate the entire female gender, so let me elaborate on my frustration. I respect Austen, I just don’t like reading her novels. The whole cultural satire thing – brilliant. She investigates societal gender roles and their implications generations before those sorts of discussions became commonplace. Furthermore, she’s a good writer. Her dialogue is snappy and witty (or at least as snappy as Victorian English people can get), and she finds the right balance between exhaustive over-description and stark narrative. But here’s the problem: her characters drive me up the wall. I wanted to get all of them together in one room and make them talk to each other like normal, functional human beings. Why doesn’t Jane Bennet simply tell Mr. Bingly that she wants to marry him and have lots and lots of babies, and why doesn’t Mr. Bingly bother to simply ask Jane if she’s interested before running away to London? Is this too much to ask? (And I understand that in Victorian England it probably was too much.) For me, reading Austen is an exercise in controlling frustration and about as relaxing and enjoyable as a long distance run – after a short while I just don’t see the point.

And so back to Sunday, when SJ and I were going to meet to see The Constant Gardener. It wasn’t showing until late, so (God only knows why) I thought it might be ok to see Pride and Prejudice. I had heard good things and was interested in seeing if Keira Knightly is really an actress or just another pretty face, but ultimately my motivation was probably the same I had in reading the book years ago. However, the movie was great. However, the movie was great. Many of the same old frustrations surfaced, but in the relatively short time frame of a movie they’re more bearable. The supporting characters were extremely well acted, especially Donald Sutherland’s Mr. Bennet, Claudie Blakley’s Charlotte, Judi Dench’s Lady Catherine, Talulah Riley’s Mary, and Jena Malone’s deliciously horrible Lydia. If my memory serves, a great deal of the dialogue was taken directly from the book, and if not it was a good approximation.

Despite that, the film would have never worked for me if not for the way the two key figures, Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy, were portrayed. I’ve spent hours of my life arguing that they are two of the most overrated characters in all of literature, but for the first time, while watching this film, I sympathized with them. It all seemed somehow more believable. Knightly can indeed act, and her Elizabeth was introspective and thoughtful where the Elizabeth I remember was haughty and downright foolish (it helped that in the movie she didn’t fall nearly as hard for the pathetically transparent Mr. Wickham). Lest you think I’ve had a complete turn around I can assure you I’m not going to pick up the novel any time soon. However, I’ll conclude by saying the film was an enjoyable way to spend the afternoon, which is more than I ever thought I would be able to say about an Austen story.

visitors

I had houseguests this week. I like being hospitable, and this was a fun opportunity for me to do so. Three Americans who teach with my organization in the Czech Republic, Sarah, Kassidee, and Christy, spent most of the week staying with me at the Bazis. Then, my old Third Schultze college buddy, Aaron Griffith, was in town for the week too. I got to play the tour guide when I wasn't at school, and I think my extensive knowledge of Budapest cafes and coffeeshops may have been my most important skill. Between all of those stops and several quality home-cooked meals (including one by Sam), it was a good week for food (not so much for staying fit).

When I was growing up my family had a revolving door approach to hospitality. Whether for meals, some conversation, or just to use our wash machine, it seemed that as soon as somebody left somebody else would be arriving. It helped that we lived in a college town, and college students are some of the best guests you can find. I think all the practice I got while I was growing up prepared me to deal with some of the typical worries. For example, I've learned that your attitude about the cleanliness of your home is far more important than how clean it actually is.

The spiritual connection is twofold. We are called to be hospitable to other Christians, and that means more than just occasionally inviting them over for coffee and windmill cookies. That means making space for them in our Christian communities (and especially worship), ideologically, spiritually, and physically. If we are not considering the unique needs of others when we organize or lead a Christian event, we're not doing our job. The church is made of all types: singles and families, the widowed and divorced, the injured and disabled, the academic and simple, and everyone in between. Secondly, making space for God is a form of hospitality. When we take the time to practice spiritual disciplines like silent meditation and centering prayer, contemplative scripture reading, or others we open up ourselves to what God might be doing. So invite people over sometime - it's good for you.

what happened to January?

disclaimer: Christmas Card Blog post

I had one of those moments today when you just stare at the calendar because you can’t believe the date is actually right. We’re into February’s double digit days already! (By the way, I blame this on the glorious picture of Rose Cottage in Hemingford Grey, England that is my calendar photo for Jan/Feb – it always distracts me.) It got me thinking about what I’ve been doing for the last month, and it’s actually quite a lot. Let me fill you in on a few details.

I’ve traveled out of the country twice in the last month – first to the previously mentioned Hemingford Grey. I spent an amazing summer there in 2004 working as an intern at St. James, the parish church, and living with a fantastically kind and hospitable couple from the church. This January the Calvin College Orchestra (including several good friends of mine) toured England, and I made the trip to see them perform at St. James. It was doubly sweet since I was able to catch up with English friends as well as those from the ensemble. I came away excited, encouraged, loved, and just a little bit homesick.

The second trip was a ski weekend in Slovakia with about 20 American friends (and one Czech). While it was a blast to hang out with such a large a boisterous group, I’m woefully out of shape and I got pretty tired as the weekend went on. I couldn’t keep up with the most enthusiastic skiers, but I had a terrific time anyway. The scenery in the Low Tatras range was especially breathtaking.

I also took an overnight trip to Pecs and Villany, the heart of Hungary’s southern wine region. Five other teachers and I spoiled ourselves with an evening of good food and wine tasting and a night at the winery’s guest rooms. It was a small, family-owned winery, so the hospitality was incredible. It reminded me of my first visits to Hungary and the generosity of the families we stayed with in small towns like Szamosszeg, Sarospatak, Nagydobrony, Magyarlona, Szentivany, and Nagyenyed.

Despite all these wonderful travel opportunities I’ve done my best to keep up with my teaching responsibilities (and done a decent job of it when I haven’t been sick!). I started The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe with one of my classes, and it’s been a treat to dig into a good story with them. I’m constantly impressed with how much they pick up and the good discussions the reading has prompted. My favorite was a passionate thirty minutes spent trying to figure out why the wardrobe worked sometimes and not others. On Monday we’ll discuss the Pevensie children’s fateful meeting with Mr. and Mrs. Beaver and the first mention of Aslan – I can’t wait!

presticogitation

I know that many of you faithful readers are products of the same educational community that I am, thus the gushing I’m about to do will be familiar and perhaps even boring. For the rest of you, I want to introduce you to a professor who, in just one class, dramatically changed my life plans. A Chicago Tribune article written by the heart of the ‘01-‘02 Campus Choir bass section, Nathan Bierma, prompted this post.

I stumbled into Professor James Vanden Bosch’s linguistics class in the fall of my junior year of college. I was an English and religion double major, and I needed some sort of “language” class to fulfill the English requirements (I think my options were linguistics, grammar, grammar for teachers of ESL, history of the English language, or sociolinguistics). I had heard Vanden Bosch was pretty good, and none of those courses sounded any better or worse than the others to me (except grammar gave me a few shivers of trepidation).

Before I knew it I had been swept off my feet by the fascinating world of language. It was an intro course, so we touched on all sorts of interesting topics such as how language should be defined, how we acquire language, how different groups of people use language differently (whether defined by region, gender, social class, or even race), how to best systemize language with grammar, and most important for this discussion, language’s dynamic and vibrant nature. As I go back over that list I realize that it may sound a bit dry, or even boring. I can only assure you that it wasn’t, and I left class every day with important and relevant questions bouncing around in my head – questions directly related to big issues like poverty, sexism, human development, education, relativism, and faith.

One of the most fascinating parts of the course was our extended discussion on how words become words, perhaps because it’s such a passion of Vanden Bosch’s. The idea that a word like “blog,” to use a pertinent example, can spring from oblivion into general usage in a matter of a few years is really stunning when you think about it. Of course specialized technical words frequently spring to life, but new words develop all the time and old ones change meanings just as fast. Vanden Bosch’s own contribution to this process is “presticogitation,” a word eloquently described in Nathan’s article. I’ve come to love this word because there is no other one that succinctly describes dizzying and befuddling intellect quite like it, and because it accurately portrays Vanden Bosch’s own rapier-like wit. If I used the word at Calvin and someone asked me what it meant I usually responded by asking if they knew Vanden Bosch, because he is its simplest definition.

Needless to say, the class hooked me and I went on to take Grammar for ESL Teachers, Phonetics, Sociolinguistics and Issues in Language Education, and History of the English Language. This turned into what can only be described as an obsession fed by my regular investigations of Inflections, Language Log, Word of the Day, Bethany's pet language project, Kent's once-lively linguistic investigation, and my own college's language links page. People ask me why I like this stuff so much, and I usually talk about the ubiquity of language. Its endless changes and permutations can teach us something about ourselves and the way we see the world. A famous linguistic theory (the Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis) claims that all languages are unique and that the language we speak determines, to some extent, the way we view and think about the world. It’s not hard to then add that without understanding our language we can’t begin to understand ourselves.

So, as thanks for sending me down this fascinating path, I’m taking a page out Nathan’s book and telling as many people as I can about Professor Vanden Bosch’s word (though I don’t think I have quite as many readers as the Chicago Tribune). Presticogitation, “rapid mental processing that commands compliance because of its speed and beauty” according to Vanden Bosch himself (as quoted by Bierma), has no synonym. Spread the word, and help make it a part of vernacular English as it so richly deserves to be.

bad cookies

Yesterday I had the English Club over to my place to cook a truly American dish: chocolate chip cookies. I had high hopes for wonderful, moist, chewy cookies, a la John Cooper. Unfortunately, things didn't quite work out that way. First of all, our kitchen is so small that we had to do the cooking in shifts. Only four students could help at a time, and rotating them in and out meant nobody really got to do as much cooking as they wanted. Then, in a mishap that may or may not be my fault, twice as much brown sugar as was needed got added to the dough. It looked a little strange when we finished, but I decided to try it anyway. Big mistake. Our product was a sticky mass of cookie-like goo. Not to be defeated, we added a bunch of flour and tried again. This time we got something that could technically be called a cookie, but they were too sweet and super crunchy. Despite the mishap I had a wonderful time hanging out with the students who came. We played Scrabble while we waited for the cookies (me against 5 of them), and I showed them around my humble abode (the most exciting thing was my FC Barcelona soccer scarf which either disgusted or impressed them, depending on their allegiances). It was a little hard on my pride to turn out lousy cookies, but a little humility is almost always a good thing. I've been doing a lot of reading lately, so expect future posts on truth in memoir (thank you James Frey), and cross-cultural worship (Symposium time is here again). That's just a teaser to make sure you keep coming back to my blog! For now though, read what Lauren Winner has to say about Epiphany, or what the BBC has to say about my Dad!

my desk

I thought you might like a picture of where I spend a good deal of my time, and where I sit when I write many of these posts. Mine is the one on the left. Also, I changed up the sidebar links a little.

at the trip-c

When I started this blog thirteen months ago I told myself that I would only post when I had something to say that might matter to other people. My personal source of expertise on blogs is Bethany, who has developed her own classification system. My aforementioned goal is part of a desire for this to be a Commentary Blog ("similar to an editorial column or essay series"), but I often cross into Christmas Card Blog territory ("primarily [used] as a way to keep up with friends they might not correspond with personally very often"). Today, for example, I don't have a great deal to say, but I feel inclined to post something anyway. I'm not reading anything terribly blog-worthy at the moment (The Testament, by John Grisham, and I read The DaVinci Code on Wednesday), teaching has been very busy lately (a rash of illnesses among my co-workers has meant I've had to cover a lot of extra classes) but not too unusual or thought-provoking, and I haven't had much time to simply sit and think about things (often the source of blog posts).

For some reason, though, as I sit here in a Budapest coffee shop, I want to let the world know I'm alive and well by posting on my blog. I think that desire - wanting to say something, even if it's nothing - means I've slid into Christmas Card Blog world. Maybe I can surf the line a bit, but I think my prideful wish to be literary, intelligent, and somehow above mere Christmas Card Blogs has caught up with me. Frankly, it reminds me of the "Vanity, Thy Name is Human" episode from season one of Joan of Arcadia. Joan's friend/romantic interest Adam is the alternative artsy type who refuses to go for conventional high school activities like going to the mall or wearing the latest styles, but Joan calls him out for being just as conscious of his alternative image as everyone else is of their mainstream one. Lately I've been feeling a lot like Adam, and I could use a little Joan to keep me honest and humble. I hope that made sense to those of you who haven't seen the episode (which I would guess to be 92% or 11 out of 12), but it's ok if it didn't because this is just a Christmas Card Blog now!

why I waited until today to take my Christmas picture off my blog

Pop quiz: Yesterday was the 12th day of Christmas. That makes today _______.

If you said Epiphany, you’ve won… nothing. (The last time I offered a prize on this blog I unexpectedly had to actually deliver on my promise. I’m not making that mistake again, Neal.) Those of you who’ve hung around me in recent years know how much I’ve come to treasure the liturgical calendar. It’s the chronological depiction of God’s grace, annually taking us step-by-step through the dramatic story of God’s interaction with his world. Epiphany is one of the lost Christian holidays (a group which I fear will soon include all Christian holidays besides Christmas and Easter, and we can have a healthy discussion about how those two are celebrated). Indulge me for a moment, and allow me to give you three reasons why you should celebrate Epiphany this year (and every year).

First: the events of Epiphany are really cool. I know Christmas is pretty fun with the cute barnyard animals, the angel choir, and the miracle of the virgin birth, but when you get right down to it all that stuff’s pretty dirty and gross (I wouldn’t want anybody I know to give birth in a nasty manure-filled sheep cave). The “absurdity” of this incarnation (see Kent’s post) is put in harsh perspective by visits from the greatest minds of foreign countries and Simeon’s bold declaration of faith at Jesus’ circumcision. Imagine a refugee baby born in a disgusting stable visited by great heads of state, or intellectual giants – now that’s absurd! (For more on this look into the Berlioz oratorio “L’Enfance du Christ,” a great Christmas counterpoint to Handel’s “Messiah.”)

Second: Epiphany means “to show” or “to reveal,” as in this Jesus child being revealed for what he is, the Messiah, the King of Kings, the very Son of God. If Christmas is about the wonder of Christ becoming human, Epiphany is about the wonder of Christ becoming human. On this day the world-shaking reality of Jesus’ divinity is revealed to us, and it’s our privilege to reveal that divinity to others. Light is a big theme for Epiphany, and as carriers of Christ’s light we get to reveal it to the entire world. (For more take a good look at Isaiah 60 and 61, great Epiphany chapters.)

And third: Simeon, one of the most underrated Biblical characters. This old man’s been told by God that he’ll see the Messiah in his life. Of course, for a Jew of his day that means he’ll see a new David to usher in a time of peace, prosperity, and prominence for Israel. It’s back to the good ol’ days! Don’t you think he would want to hang around to see how this thing turns out? Don’t you think he would want to keep tabs on this Jesus kid? But these are Simeon’s words after seeing the baby Jesus in the temple:

“Sovereign Lord, as you have promised,
you now dismiss your servant in peace.
For my eyes have seen your salvation,
which you have prepared in the sight of all people,
a light for revelation to the Gentiles
and for glory to your people Israel." (Luke 2:29-32 NIV)

Simply seeing the Christ child was enough. The revelation – the Epiphany – of this child’s true identity and nature was what gave Simeon shalom. This Epiphany join in his prayer (if you can sing it, all the better), and recognize this savior graciously revealed to us.

ugh

Disclaimer: This will likely be another whiny and maybe even gross blog post. Sorry.

You ever have one of those days that can best be described by that strange in between a groan and a grunt noise? I woke up this morning still feeling like somebody had a belt cinched around my chest, and groggy from the overdose of cold meds I took last night so I could get to sleep. I took a long shower that involved Tarzan-like beating of my chest in an effort to dislodge the phlegm coating my alveoli (brought back great memories of post-heart-surgery physical therapy - if only I had those rubber suction cup beating things they gave me). I take the time to have some eggs for breakfast (it was that or lentils - the only foods I have in the house) and still get to school plenty early enough to make the copies I need for today's classes. I grab my books and head down to the teacher's room and find the copier's broken. No copies = new lesson plans. Then I do my morning internet check (e-mail, blogs, news.bbc.co.uk, and of course ESPN.com) and find that Texas has just scored a touchdown to go up 41-38 on USC with something absurd like 19 seconds to play. Then I have to wait approximately 15 minutes before they refreshed their site with news that Texas did in fact hold on to win (I was so close to calling you to find out, Dad). You can imagine my state as I walked into class this morning. Of course, nothing can cheer you up like hearing a happy bouncy 14 year-old respond to your good morning with "You sound like frog death." Priceless.

incarnation realities

I have smart friends. Kent and Bethany, the two other original members of our little blogging cabal, made profound Christmas observations on their blogs. I advise you to take a look.

As for me, my first Christmas away from my family was equal parts bitter and sweet. Fellow ESI-er Danielle did a wonderful job of making it feel like Christmas by opening her home to a random collection of folks with no place to go. Our potluck Christmas dinner was wonderful, and we had a great time. The toughest moment came when I woke up at 6:30 Christmas morning to call my family in Seattle (where it was 9:30 PM Christmas Eve). For as long as I can remember our family has gathered around our Christmas tree after church on Christmas Eve and all shared a Christmas reading of some kind - poem, scripture, short story, song lyrics, devotional, or anything, really. I think my family would agree that I'm particularly enamored with this tradition (I put it down to being the English major of the family) so I was really happy to be able to use Danielle's internet phone to take part in this tradition intercontinentally. My reading this year was excerpts from a sermon by Fleming Rutledge on the massacre of the infants, commenting on the importance of that detail within the Christmas narrative. She observed that without a recognition of pain, evil, and suffering in the narrative itself it has no more importance than the Rudolf story, or Frosty the Snowman. I was once again reminded how easy it is to insulate ourselves from the pain of the world, and that as long as one of my brothers or sisters is in pain, I am too. My New Years resolution (as it was last year, and the year before): be an agent of God's shalom in this world of pain.

holiday greeting

Here's some Christmas cheer from the wonderful 9A1 class!

scatterbrained

I can't seem to pull together coherent ideas, so here's a list of what's bouncing around in my noggin:

• Today was the last day of school for me, and I'm remarkably happy about it. Spending the break here in Budapest should be very relaxing, if a bit lonely. My students, sweethearts that they are, even offered to put together an ice skating party over the break so I would have something to do. I'm looking forward to sleeping, writing, reading, cooking, and playing guitar.
• Budapest is one beautiful city, especially with all the Christmas lights and decorations! I don't know how anybody can work around downtown and not feel at least a little bit festive!
• Last night my school had it's annual talent show, Kossuth Est. I enjoyed the parts of it I could understand and faked my way through the parts I couldn't (just clap when everybody else claps...). It's good to know that most high school bands are the same worldwide: loud and bad.
• The highlight of Kossuth Est gets it's own bullet point! The first act was not a current Kossuth student, but one who graduated last year and went on to fame and fortune by placing second in the Hungarian equivalent of American Idol. He even has a record contract! It was quite a big deal that he came back (my left ear is still a bit deaf from the girl who sat behind me and her screaming!), and he has a very good voice - high and velvety, like Otis Redding.
• It's amazing how one chord on my guitar immediately silenced the class that I can NEVER get to shut up. They actually participated today in our Christmas carol sing-along without (much) extraneous talking. Talk about your Christmas miracles...
• I love good jazz bari sax! I also love listening to the Duke Ellington version of the Nutcracker Suite at this time of year, especially Dance of the Sugar Rum Cherry. Coincidence? I think not.
• As advent is the season of waiting, both for our celebration of Christ's first coming and for his second, themes of social justice have been prominent in my mind lately. Budapest is a city with lots of people begging for handouts, and I never know what to do. I've started trying to give a little to those who ask, not necessarily for them, but as a spiritual discipline for myself. I don't, though, know if I should do this because so many people have told me it doesn't really help anyone. It's not hurting me - I marvel at how much God has provided me with - but I'm still unsure about what is just.
• Finally, thanks to Sam, I'm craving grits of all things! I know, it's crazy for a yankee like me to want them, but I can't help it.

That's what's in my head this evening, ladies and gentlemen.

a gift

My students gave me a Christmas present today. In the middle of class they suddenly stood, sang a rousing (but sadly monotone) rendition of We Wish You a Merry Christmas, and presented me with a small package wrapped in newspaper. I took this picture in my flat with my "gift" this afternoon.

One of my students commented, "We don't think you look bad. We just think you need to shave your beard." Thanks.

Side notes: Anybody want to take a guess at which mountain is just over my right shoulder? Kent? And speaking of Kent, it seems the Thorubos group blog may be primed for a re-birth of sorts. Stay tuned for further updates.

vent

[disclaimer: I'm about to vent in an annoyingly whiny sort of way. Sorry.]

I gave a major oral test to 36 of my students today, a test so major they get excused from their normal classes. The poor kids take turns entering a room to sit at a table and face their four English teachers (yes, they all have four hours of English class every day!). The test is the responsibility of their two native-English-speaking teachers, so we ask the questions and give the grades. I think I was as nervous as the kids were, but we were well-prepared and it was a fair test. We followed our rubric and the grades were about what I expected.

So, the problem? I'm told that some teachers are unhappy with the grades we gave. Let me assure you this was a fair test and the grades will not be changed, but this sort of passive gossip makes me particularly angry. I would love to talk to the other teachers about their concerns, after all I'm trying to learn how to be a teacher as quickly as I can - any suggestions/constructive criticism is always appreciated. Furthermore, at the conclusion of the test we asked the other teachers how they thought it went. We got the same response I get every day when I ask my students how they are: fine. (Mom: I'm sorry I used to answer that exact same word every day when I got home from school. Please forgive me!)

I feel like I'm stuck in some Jane Austen alternate reality where people don't communicate. I want a little open conflict. I want some discussion about this. Instead, it will probably just fade away and slowly fester until the next flare up. And to clarify, I don't think this sort of gossip is a particularly Hungarian problem. We all do it, of course, but that just makes it all the more annoying. I hate it when I see my own weaknesses demonstrated in other people - I don't even have enough moral high ground for some righteous indignation! I guess I'll just have to forgive them and try to prevent some of that festering.

risky busyness

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.

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!

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."

a few photos

Some favorite fall break photos...

"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.

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.”

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...

road trip

Greetings to my (7) faithful readers. I just finished teaching my last class before the much anticipated fall break. I will be spending next week driving around Europe, specifically to Vienna, Salzburg, Munich, Cheb/Sokolov, Prague, Bratislava, and back to Budapest. I'll try to update on the way. Until then!

"The Magical Food"

Though I often get work from students that makes me laugh until it hurts, I've hesitated to post it on my blog for general enjoyment. Remember I'm the same person who wonders at the ethics of censoring spam comments on my blog - publishing student work without permission seems sketchy. The following, however, is a story the author had to read aloud to his class. Because it is already a public document I don't feel bad about posting it. That and I really like it! By the way, a passable knowledge of the international soccer scene will help in the reading.

"Once upon a time there was a little fat soccer koala named Konaldo. He had a very good friend called Benhaldinho. Konaldo and Benhaldinho were football players on the Koalaian national team. They had a magical food, the eucalyptus footballus. But there was a very bad rock kangaroo called Jumpy. This rock kangaroo was the minister of Kangaruantina. He didn't like football and he hated Koalai. The standard of living was higher in Koalai. Education and tourism were also high, but inflation was very high in Kangaruantina. [editor's note: can you tell what type of vocab we were working on that they had to include in their story?] In Kangaruantina the government wanted to steal the eucalyptus footballus. They charged Jumpy to steal it. One day there was a football match between Koalai and Kangaruantina. It was a "war" because Konaldo played against his enemy Ronaldingo. Konaldo's team lost the match because Jumpy stole the eucalyptus footballus. The fans started to fight. The police came and took them to jail. The police also took Jumpy to jail because they discovered he stole the magical food. So they lived happily after in freedom."

Well done, Gabor.

parental units

I'll send some paprika to the first person who identifies the guys in the statue my Dad and I are standing by in the first picture.




By the way, it's 7:00 in the morning and game three of the World Series is still going on (11th inning). Can I skip my first class to watch the web cast? I'm guessing not.

Sinatra, baseball, a Zlaty, and Russian Lit

I'm feeling into bullet points today. Here goes...

• Mom and Dad left yesterday and I responded by spending the whole afternoon on my couch - grading, planning, relaxing, and watching Alias. I feel almost caught up.
• I'm sitting in an internet cafe sipping a Zlaty Bazant and it reminds me of Calvin Band Tours. I'm really thankful for those memories.
• At the big covered market today I saw a Jack-O-Lantern on top of a stack of pumpkins for sale. I nearly bought a pumpkin just so I could carve it.
• What happened to the 'Stros? I feel happy for the Sox and my Chicago connections, but I thought this would be a great series. Here's hoping Roy and the Astros can bounce back tonight.
• I have to preface the funny train story by saying I'm really not attracted to most Hungarian women because of the way they dress and act. Let's just say modesty is not a priority. So, when a tastefully dressed attractive young woman sat in our compartment on the trip home from Eger I took notice mostly because it's such a rare thing to see. I have no interest in dating a Hungarian (the cultural differences would make it challenging), but I have never wanted to speak Hungarian more than when this young woman pulled out a Hungarian copy of "The Master and Margarita" by Mikhail Bulgakov. This is at least one of my favorites, if not my favorite book of all time (with thanks to E. Ericson and R. Rienstra). It was crazy - I had been mildly attracted to this woman and seconds later, before I knew it, I desperately wanted to talk to her. Oh well, maybe I'll meet her again sometime when my Hungarian is a bit better.
• The Batman post is coming, but let me reiterate that humanity is what makes great people great. Nobody liked Superman until the comic book writers invented kryptonite. It's the same with Jesus. He went through the temptations we do, but didn't give in. Batman is the best superhero because he's not super.
• I saw a new ad on a tram this afternoon. It featured Dr. Green, Dr. Ross, Dr. Benton, Nurse Hathaway, and the Physicians assistant Gini from the old days of ER. I was trying to remember how long it's been since any of those people were actually on the show. Hungary - always on the cutting edge of culture.
• The internet cafe is playing Sinatra singing standards (I Only Have Eyes for You, The Way You Look Tonight, etc.). Nice.
• With fall break coming next week my students are about as cooperative as a three year old in a pet store. I need tranquilizers for them.
• Walking around Budapest and enjoying the wickedly beautiful fall weather while listening to Jack Johnson makes me very happy.

quick thought

Mom and Dad are here, and it's a surreal clash of worlds. My students are meeting my parents? So strange!

kedd

It's Tuesday (Kedd, in Hungarian), and it's cold. We had our first frost Sunday night, and now my early morning walk to school is full of the foot crunching wonderfulness that comes from frosted grass. Did that last sentence even make sense? The cool, crisp fall days have been beautiful, and last week I was inspired to walk around my little corner of Budapest taking pictures. I hope to soon post a photo-essay of sorts, documenting Csapel for you all. But as I was walking around yesterday, I realized that Sunday marks the two month anniversary of my arrival in Budapest. It's amazing how quickly that two months has past, but also how long ago that seems. I don't feel like waxing poetic to mark the occasion (at least any more than I already have), so, in honor of Sam, here are some random thoughts on a Kedd...

1. I went to Eger this weekend (that's where I had the chocolate/walnut/rum flavored pancake with fresh fruit and whipped cream that is featured below). I saw the second largest church in Hungary, a really cool library (with a letter from Mozart), and the castle where a mere 2,000 Hungarians held off 40,000 Turks in the middle of the 16th century (only to be conquered by those some Turks 40 years later in a truly Hungarian twist of fate). The area's famous for its red wine, which was quite good, though the Egri Bikaver I had (literally, bull's blood) wasn't too special. The legend is that the Hungarians with beards stained red by wine held off the Turks with such ferocity thought the Turks thought they must have been drinking bull's blood. Rick Steeve's debunked the myth for me (as usual, he knows everything) by saying the name doesn't appear until the mid 19th century.

2. Hungarian is hard! I have lessons with my wonderful tutor, Lidia, on Tuesday afternoons, and in preparing for this week I was struck (once again) at how different the language is. The structures of English I've spent so much of my life working on simply don't exist in Hungarian. The language has no prepositions - just 400 different ways to end words (slight exaggeration).

3. Pogacsa are wonderful. Just trust me - I eat too many.

4. I had lunch yesterday with Todd, a very cool American who's been here with his family for years working with church planting and summer camps for kids. They do a 10 day English camp and a 10 day arts camp every summer as an outreach ministry of the E-Free church here (KEGY). Maybe it's something I can be involved with.

5. One of the most interesting things about sharing an office with four other teachers is what I've come to call the I'm-gonna-kill-em face. The nearly daily moment of someone walking back into our office between classes with a look on their face that could freeze water is always interesting. As teachers we (at least try to) contain our emotions during class so we can maintain some sense of dignity. But when we get back in the sanctum of the office, all bets are off - the real feelings come to the forefront and it creates a funny sort of bond between us. Last week one of my colleagues had to deal with a tragic accident that put her sister and nephew in the hospital. We saw the face a lot, but we were able to be supportive. It felt like the way community is supposed to work.

6. I picked up some Russian Lit again (Pasternak this time), thanks to a funny thing that happened on the train back from Eger. It feels very appropriate to read it here.

greatest dessert ever

why I teach better when I iron my shirt

The good news is my students care enough to search high and low on the internet to find my website (nice work, Peter and Marcell). The bad news is that since they've found it I have to be more careful about what I say. I've reached the end of another week, and I'm relaxing by sitting in the Havana cafe sipping a latte and reading about college football and the baseball playoffs. The cafe just taunted me by playing half of a Diana Krall song I didn't recognize (does she have a new album out - must check on this) before switching back to lousy Hungari-pop. It's even worse than usual, though, because it's a live recording complete with adolescent girls screaming their heads off. I, however, am in such a good mood I don't mind that much. I never thought teachers looked forward to the weekend as much as students do.

As I teach more I've realized that what happens in my class is fundamentally about the image I present in class. Looking back I draw a correlation between the days when I have a hard time with student behavior and how "together" I am. I was taught that the best classroom management is preventive, and a big part of that is being organized and prepared. I try to be real with my students (like admitting when I've made a mistake and being sufficiently contrite), but that doesn't mean I need to reveal all my insecurities to them. The old adage, "fake it 'til you make it" is something I've come to live by. And for me, part of that is ironing my shirts. I still don't feel much like an adult sometimes, but if I look like one I can at least fake it until I do. There's something about a crisply pressed collar and a tie that gives me confidence to face those rambunctious fourteen year-olds when it's lacking.

(And don't think I've given my secret away to those students who may be reading this - they don't know when I'm faking it and when I'm not. Besides, their quiz on Monday will remind them who's the boss!)

countryside

The last few weekends I’ve been fortunate to get out of the city and enjoy a bit of the Eastern European scenery. With my parents coming to visit soon (and bringing a rented car) it’s likely the trend will continue. The fall scenery has been wonderful (though the changing trees don’t hold a candle to the colors in Michigan and especially Pennsylvania). My favorite part, though, has been the friendly encouraging people I’ve encountered. People in Budapest are friendly enough, but seeing Americans and suffering through their terrible Hungarian pronunciation isn’t a rare experience for the typical Budapestian. But out in Esztergom, Visegrad, or any of the many Slovakian hamlets we went to last weekend they’re a bit more gracious. This isn’t too surprising – everybody says you have to get out of the big cities to really see a country. So if this is the real Hungary, it’s one of the friendliest places I’ve ever been. Two examples: I was trying to ask directions in Hungarian, and the young man I was talking to patiently endured my slaughtering of his language before slowly and clearly articulating his response. I had a follow up question that was beyond my Hungarian, so on a whim I asked if he spoke English. He replied, “yes, I do. I would have said so before but I could see you really wanted to try your Hungarian, and you were doing very well.” (If only my students could form a compound-complex sentence like that one!) And second, last night, we were looking for a restaurant that was listed as number 14 on the main street in Szentendre. We couldn’t find it, so we asked the shop owner at number 13. She told us number 14 didn’t exist (which it doesn’t), but walked next door to another shop keeper to confirm this. When they agreed there was no number 14 we apologized and started walking away (they also apologized profusely – I guess for their town’s obvious deficiency for not having a number 14!), but a minute later the first shop keeper came running down the street after us. She had asked at another shop and found out the restaurant was in the next street over. Above and beyond the call of duty barely scratches the surface of this woman’s kindness to us.

Kossuth Day photos

Captions:
9B students trying to see how many people can fit in a small box

Viola, a 9A1 student, being turned into a mummy

Daniel, a 9A2 student

One of the games - it involved moving a coin down the line without using any hands

Shandor and Gergy, 9A2 students.

Kossuth Day

On Thursday instead of teaching my students English I got to show them my basketball skills at my school’s annual sanctioned hazing event, Kossuth Day. It began with the 10th, 11th, and 12th graders gathering in the gym, and making the four 9th grade forms parade in wearing the goofy overalls that blue-collar workers wear here. The first half of the day was a competition between the 9th grade forms in which randomly selected students were asked to perform silly and sometimes difficult tasks. For example, two students from each class were given two eggs, and going off the school grounds they were to cook them as quickly as possible. The various groups received points for speed and quality. Other pairs had to take a roll of toilet paper and get 50 people who had no connection to the school to sign it. Meanwhile, those students who were left had to compete in silly relay races and such. It was quite fun, and nobody was so embarrassed that they broke down and wept. After that students from all the grades were able to choose from a variety of activities ranging from sports tournaments of all kinds to candle holder decoration to a session on how to train dogs. I competed in the three-on-three tournament on a team with a PE teacher and a Physics teacher. We did well, but ended up losing the championship game 14-12 in a heartbreaker (we played first to 11 wins, but have to win by two). My involvement came about because I’ve been helping out with the after school basketball sessions recently. I enjoy it a lot because these kids have some skill, but no fundamentals. The first day I played on a team with three 9th graders, and we managed to beat four 11th graders because I was able to get my team doing basic pick and rolls, a give and go or two, and boxing out for rebounds. It’s a new kind of basketball for me because (a) I’m good over here, and (b) my greatest happiness comes when I get the ball to a weak player in a spot where he can get an easy lay-up. I don’t look to score unless I have to. It reminds me of years ago when I used to play basketball at Sunset Park with Don Garbrick. He would go out of his way to make us look good when he easily could have won the game by himself. It’s nice to see things come full circle a bit. (And sorry for those who don’t get the old State College reference.) I’ll post a few Kossuth Day photos, but I didn’t get any of the basketball since I was playing.

my students

I love 'em. I hate 'em. But here they are... my 9A students in all their glory.






Peter and Marcell "working" in class.






9A3






9A1



9A2

silence

Since people I don't even know are starting to ask me where I've been for three weeks (who are you Andrew?), I thought a tiny update would be better than more silence. I feel bad about the fact that I haven't written in a while, but not too bad because most of my time has been taken up with the process of learning to be a good teacher (or at least adequate!). This month has been both challenging and rewarding for me, but in list form here's what I'm frustrated with...
-Never being told what's going on and not knowing where to find things out (like when half my class just stood up and walked out of class yesterday to go tot he school doctor!)
-Smart students who don't care enough to do homework or study for quizzes
-The line for the copy machine
- Not feeling I've found a church home in Bp yet

I'm thankful for...
-having a copy machine!
-getting to know my students at a deeper level
-Family of Faith Church
-the Budapest Christian Library
-my fellow (Christian) American teachers
-the cultural events of the big city
-all my students (seriously, I can find good things to say about every single one of them)

Lots of love!

Borfest

This weekend we at the Bazis played host to the ESI Hungary/Slovakia team and our year opening retreat. It is terrific to have everyone back together, if only for a day, but the real highlights were the barbecued hamburgers and the impromptu softball game that followed. It almost felt like a Labor Day picnic! Saturday night many of us decided to head to the Buda Castle for the annual Wine Festival (“bor” is Hungarian for wine). The beautiful castle is taken over for three days by scores of wineries from all over Europe, and beyond. They set up in little gazebos where they offer tastings, and the variety available is dizzying! This was my first wine festival, and while it was a bit overwhelming I couldn’t imagine a better setting for it. Gazing out over the Danube with my fellow teachers, seeing Parliament and the Chain Bridge lit up, and doing it all while sipping on a nice French Bordeaux – it’s a nice life! But I think it’s not the life for me. At least for now I’m still more of a beer guy – now if only I could get to Munich for Octoberfest…

the first week

I’m not sure how to describe my first full week of teaching at Kossuth, now that I’ve survived it. I decided to wait at least a week before writing about school to avoid making snap judgments, but over the last week I’ve felt just about every emotion possible. Take the elation I got when two of my beginner students were simply able to ask each other what their names were, where they were from, and what their jobs were, and contrast that with the frustration of being unable to get one of my classes to do an activity in English because they could do it just as easily in Hungarian. From students I encountered both direct insubordination and enthusiastic cooperation. I’ve had students cheat on assignments (quite obviously, in fact), and turn in some terrific work. I guess I could sum it up by saying that teaching is an incredibly rewarding experience, but it requires extensive patience, great flexibility, and vast amounts of energy! I’m apprehensive about this year and the amount of work it will be, but I’m also very optimistic. I have some terrific students who are both bright and motivated, and for that I’m grateful.

a chance meeting

Picture this: I’m sitting on a bench in Deak Ter (“ter” is Hungarian for square) with my friend and fellow ESI teacher Joanna, waiting for another ESI teacher, Danielle. It’s a prime location to meet people because it’s where all three metro lines converge. I was enjoying My Name is Asher Lev, by Chiam Potak, when I looked up, and across the square I saw someone who looked familiar. I saw only her profile, but I thought to myself, “That looks like the girl from Prof. Holberg’s Survey of Brit Lit class.” I kept watching, and when she turned away from me I recognized the Calvin College Young Author’s Festival tee-shirt she was wearing. I hopped up, jogged across the square, and said, “Excuse me, you went to Calvin College, didn’t you?” It turns out that she was there waiting for other members of the Calvin semester in Budapest program, including Prof. De Vries who showed up moments later. I chatted with these wonderful Calvin folks for a few minutes before exchanging contact info and parting ways.

You don’t really expect these things to happen in Europe, or at least I don’t. Maybe if you’re wandering around Grand Rapids, MI you randomly run into someone you know from Calvin, but in Budapest? They tell you Calvin people are everywhere - who knew they were serious?

the bazis

Have I told you I live at something called "the base?" Because the school where I teach is a technical high school specializing in airplane engineering and flight technology (and other aspects of flight transportation, as demonstrated by the English class made up of 14 flight-attendants in training that one of my American colleagues has to teach) there are a lot of planes and such scattered around the school. I may have mentioned the display case right by my office devoted to motor oil. So, to give you a taste of life at The Bazis, here's the view that greets me every morning when I walk out the front door. Enjoy!

age

One of the ESI teachers in Bratislava had a birthday this weekend, so I hopped on the train for my first “long-distance” trip. It was great fun, and the two and a half hour trip cost me a little less than $20 (3750 forint). Besides seeing good friends I made during training, and drinking spiced “hot chocolate” that was quite literally melted chocolate in a tea cup, the highlight for me was wandering around the castle that’s perched on the hill above the city. It’s nothing spectacular, as castles go, but reading about the history of the city (thank you LonelyPlanet) and imagining all the changes that castle has witnessed impressed me. Over the years it has housed Moravian, Hungarian, Hapsburg Austrian, Czechoslovakian, Nazi, Soviet, and now Slovakian governments. I know it’s a pretty obvious observation, but as I ran my fingers along the stone and looked through the archer slits in the walls I got chills because this building has been there longer than I can even understand. I know from past trips to Europe that this is going to be a recurring theme; things that have been around for centuries impress me. I hope I never get numb to it, and that it always reminds me of things that are even more permanent than 1,000 year old buildings.

what a difference a continent makes

I look to my left and see a mild green pepper and salami and cream cheese on a roll - a coworker's lunch. I look to my right and see a man dressed in bright kelly green overalls installing a new shelving unit. Of course, those things mean I'm in Hungary. I've been here for a few days now, and I love the little daily reminders that I'm in another culture. I know that in 2 months I'll be fed up and cursing those same things, but for now they're lots of fun! Part of my preparation for this adventure was learning about the levels of culture, and how some differences are obvious (the annual beginning of the year faculty meeting I went to this morning, that was completely in Hungarian really brought home the language differences), and some are unbelievably subtle (I've already been cut in front of in line twice because I left too much space behind the person in front of me - I know you warned me, Voogts, but I forgot). I think what I really enjoy is both the satisfaction of figuring out the way Hungarians do things differently, and then trying to figure out why. Some reasons are pretty obvious (for example, Hungarians aren't as concerned with efficiency and timeliness, in part, because for 50 years, under communism, those qualities in the workplace were not rewarded but denigrated because they made other workers look bad). Other reasons for cultural differences are much harder, if not impossible to figure out (why do Hungarians feel so strongly about paprika?). Oh well, figuring these things out is all part of the adventure! Szia!

culture

Some of the lessons I’ve had to plan here at training revolve around aspects of American culture, and in fact some teachers with this organization teach classes based solely on culture. I wonder if I’m the only one who thinks this is a little odd. Can you imagine going to a public high school in the US that offered, say, Italian culture classes? These aren’t language classes, just culture. Of course, there are lots of questions about how to be fair and sensitive in these classes. Our text suggests, among other things, presenting both the advantages and disadvantages of American culture and being more polite than frank when addressing the home culture of our students. These are both good ideas, of course, but the fact remains that it is impossible to teach American culture without contributing to the global imperialism of American culture. I remember Professor Vande Koppel teaching me how important it is for overseas English teachers to reinforce the value of the home culture, but now I actually have to do it. Any suggestions?

training

I’ve reached the end of week four of training. Soon I’ll take my TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language) certification exam, and then in 9 days I take the long flight from LA to Munich and then connect on to Budapest. By my count I’ve done about 25 full lesson plans and countless partial ones over the course of the four weeks. Yet, as much as I’ve learned and practiced, there’s no doubt in my mind that nothing can prepare you to teach except simply doing it. For example, we learned a lot about classroom management in our lectures. We talked about the typical root causes of the problems, techniques for how to deal with them, and important ways to prevent problems before they start. But when time came and I was standing in front of a class that was misbehaving everything I had learned was gone. I don’t know if the fact that it was a class of my fellow teachers pretending to be deviant teenagers makes it better or worse. Nonetheless, I handled the situation pretty badly (though I did remember not to give them a good knock on the head), but when I face discipline problems next fall it’s not the lectures I’m going to remember. I’ll think of how I botched my peer class, and how to avoid repeating the same mistakes. I find this both frustrating (why did I sit through all those lectures?) and encouraging (I think I’ll only get better as a teacher). It’s a good thing God doesn’t call us to be perfect, or even successful, just faithful.