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?