Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
News Flash
The introduction for the series I am writing about older Slovak people just got published--check it out. And don't be bashful about subscribing to the publication always, they put out some pretty rad stuff.
Apparently my nickname among the 5th year students is "the hurricane." I don't know if this is a simile, or a straight-up nickname (would be my first) and I don't know if it has positive or negative connotations. I think I've decided that no matter what these kids NEED a little hurricane in their lives to uproot some of their complacency. Shiiiiiit.
Teenage boys LOVE putting on girls clothes-- I erg in the school gym at the Hotel Academy in Brezno on Tuesday afternoons, and yesterday a rowdy bunch of 5th years came in to film a video for thier upcoming Stuskava (sp- it's an uber-formal event kind of like a mix between prom, Catiline, and like a coming of age ceremony...They show/perfom skits or sketches, waltz, etc). While I motored along at an 18 stroke rate I watched post-pubescent boys wiggle into tiny mini-skirts, midriff bearing tank tops, and switch out their stud earrings for neon green and golden hoops. They giggled and pranced around showing off their faux breasts (created by either shirts or wigs), helping one another sculpt them into life-like representations giving sings of approval. Of course they were wearings wigs, and of course the lip stick came out too. Apparently they were going to dance...
Once again I have NO IDEA what my schedule is--there has been yet another change, but I guess I'm ready to roll with it. For one reason or another I apparently only have one class today, second period. Long run anyone?
Being all domestic and grown up is HARD! I feel like I am on a constant rotation of shopping, cleaning, doing laundry, ironing, etc. And I only live in a 2 room apartment by myself. Why anyone would voluntarily reside in more square-footage than is necessary for sanity is beyond me. This is the first time in pretty much ever that I've done lots of ironing, and let me tell you that is an art in itself. Button down shirts can be pretty hard, and I haven't mastered how to do sleeves yet. It takes me a long time, but part of me is sort of fascinated and mesmerized by the process. I don't do it that often, so you can see it is still novel.
That might be all for now... Make sure you read my series, and keep up with it!!!
Whitney
Sunday, October 18, 2009
But it was "Cultural" Experience
My first clue should have been his amiable nature and willingness to converse with a complete stranger. My second clue should have been the greedy look in his eyes as he careened his face right up next to mine to speak. By the time this old Slovak man was going in for his third kiss on the cheek, I was pretty sure that what was happening was in fact not a standard “cultural experience.”
Now I don’t walk around Tisovec offering kisses for a song, but I have been getting pretty used to the geriatric crowd or the cleaning woman at school planting one (or two) on my cheeks at the conclusion of our meetings. The parting peck is usually accompanied by a big bear hug and some term of endearment such as “ahh, moja!,” which basically means, “Oh, mine (feminine).” It’s like saying ‘that’s my girl,’ or something. Just as you would never deny food or beverage from someone when you are a guest, shutting down the hug after it has been offered might be received as borderline offensive—it’s a cultural thing!
Let it be known I don’t give it away on the first date either. I had met this older man in the street the day before as I was booking it home between class periods to pick up a few things and string up some wet laundry for drying. I was wearing heels so the “click-click” of my shoes on the pavement had distracted and entranced him long enough for me to catch up, whereupon we stumbled through a quick conversation in Slovak.
When I saw my little friend again the next day a look of familiarity registered on his face and he altered his course to come and meet me. We exchanged greetings, he sort of chuckled (I presumed at my efforts to speak Slovak) all the while proceeding to position his face mere inches from mine. My gaze fixated on his two front lower teeth, both of which were severely deteriorated by a gnarly case of gingivitis so that only discolored nubs remained, his tongue passing back and forth over them as he worked his jaw. Suddenly, just as I was thinking about how this man did not understand the concept of personal space, he went in for kill number one. I reacted quickly by deflecting him to the cheek (his aim may have been a little off…) then immediately retracted my head and inquired as to the shopping he had recently done—“Mate zelenina?” (you have vegetables?). He scrutinized his apples and squash for a moment before looking up and smiling, and readying himself for approach number two.
At this point the wheels were turning, and I was starting to connect all the dots—usually I’m stoked to get a “dobry den” (good day/hello) out of people I don’t really know, especially the older generation. I’m not sure if I have elaborated on the disposition of most Slovaks, but in a nutshell they’re not the most friendly bunch towards strangers, and don’t walk around doling out random compliments and greetings to those they don’t know. In fact, I think I’m more accustomed to receiving grimaces than kisses out in public.
After a little more small talk (the smallest, seeing as we had almost exhausted my Slovak lexicon and his closeness was really starting to creep me out) I guess he thought the third time would be the charm. At this point I was positive something was amiss, so I backed out of there as quick as I could exclaiming, “nie, nie—to je fajn, dovidena, dovidena” and getting gone. I don’t think we were on the same page about what sort of relationship we had.
So maybe I put myself in a kind-of sort-of compromising situation. But I was just trying to mingle with the locals—If you want to speak a new language, you have to speak the new language. If I sit around all day waiting for someone to initiate an informal Slovak lesson, I’m a’ be waitin’ a long time. Like I said above, the old Slovaks who don’t know me aren’t that interested in getting to know me—at least not until I expose some connection—and since I work at a “bilingual” gymnasium most people tend to be more interested in leveraging my native English speaking-ness than making sure I am progressing with my efforts to learn their language. Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of people who have been willing to help me work on my Slovak, but only because I put myself out there and bumble through broken sentences—I’m pretty sure ‘ako sa povie (how do you say)’ is my most commonly used phrase. Adults think it’s cute, elementary school students have perhaps proved the best teachers, and the students in the gymnasium seem a little more willing to give English a shot after I butcher phrases in their mother-tongue.
So I’m not going to stop trying to communicate with whoever I can, but I think I am going to institute a ‘communicate with your words, not with your face’ policy.
Now I don’t walk around Tisovec offering kisses for a song, but I have been getting pretty used to the geriatric crowd or the cleaning woman at school planting one (or two) on my cheeks at the conclusion of our meetings. The parting peck is usually accompanied by a big bear hug and some term of endearment such as “ahh, moja!,” which basically means, “Oh, mine (feminine).” It’s like saying ‘that’s my girl,’ or something. Just as you would never deny food or beverage from someone when you are a guest, shutting down the hug after it has been offered might be received as borderline offensive—it’s a cultural thing!
Let it be known I don’t give it away on the first date either. I had met this older man in the street the day before as I was booking it home between class periods to pick up a few things and string up some wet laundry for drying. I was wearing heels so the “click-click” of my shoes on the pavement had distracted and entranced him long enough for me to catch up, whereupon we stumbled through a quick conversation in Slovak.
When I saw my little friend again the next day a look of familiarity registered on his face and he altered his course to come and meet me. We exchanged greetings, he sort of chuckled (I presumed at my efforts to speak Slovak) all the while proceeding to position his face mere inches from mine. My gaze fixated on his two front lower teeth, both of which were severely deteriorated by a gnarly case of gingivitis so that only discolored nubs remained, his tongue passing back and forth over them as he worked his jaw. Suddenly, just as I was thinking about how this man did not understand the concept of personal space, he went in for kill number one. I reacted quickly by deflecting him to the cheek (his aim may have been a little off…) then immediately retracted my head and inquired as to the shopping he had recently done—“Mate zelenina?” (you have vegetables?). He scrutinized his apples and squash for a moment before looking up and smiling, and readying himself for approach number two.
At this point the wheels were turning, and I was starting to connect all the dots—usually I’m stoked to get a “dobry den” (good day/hello) out of people I don’t really know, especially the older generation. I’m not sure if I have elaborated on the disposition of most Slovaks, but in a nutshell they’re not the most friendly bunch towards strangers, and don’t walk around doling out random compliments and greetings to those they don’t know. In fact, I think I’m more accustomed to receiving grimaces than kisses out in public.
After a little more small talk (the smallest, seeing as we had almost exhausted my Slovak lexicon and his closeness was really starting to creep me out) I guess he thought the third time would be the charm. At this point I was positive something was amiss, so I backed out of there as quick as I could exclaiming, “nie, nie—to je fajn, dovidena, dovidena” and getting gone. I don’t think we were on the same page about what sort of relationship we had.
So maybe I put myself in a kind-of sort-of compromising situation. But I was just trying to mingle with the locals—If you want to speak a new language, you have to speak the new language. If I sit around all day waiting for someone to initiate an informal Slovak lesson, I’m a’ be waitin’ a long time. Like I said above, the old Slovaks who don’t know me aren’t that interested in getting to know me—at least not until I expose some connection—and since I work at a “bilingual” gymnasium most people tend to be more interested in leveraging my native English speaking-ness than making sure I am progressing with my efforts to learn their language. Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of people who have been willing to help me work on my Slovak, but only because I put myself out there and bumble through broken sentences—I’m pretty sure ‘ako sa povie (how do you say)’ is my most commonly used phrase. Adults think it’s cute, elementary school students have perhaps proved the best teachers, and the students in the gymnasium seem a little more willing to give English a shot after I butcher phrases in their mother-tongue.
So I’m not going to stop trying to communicate with whoever I can, but I think I am going to institute a ‘communicate with your words, not with your face’ policy.
Friday, October 9, 2009
"Must See" Thursdays--or Mondays, or Sundays...
I don’t have a TV, so I’m not very caught up on the latest prime-time; but I have been watching a heck of a lot of sheep.
Tisovec has a pretty good reputation for its sheep cheese, which probably has something do with the large volume of those animals that spend their days grazing on the surrounding lush hillsides. I’m not sure how many flocks there are in total, or how any sort of deviation or distinction between them works out. I don’t know if these are private flocks, if there is a king-pin sheep boss in town, or if the shepherds ever have turf battles or skirmishes—right now I can only speculate, which you can see I’ve done quite a bit.
For me running into a flock of sheep is a real novelty, or at least a free-range, mobile flock complete with a real live shepherd. When I have seen them in the past they were usually unsupervised and contained by some kind of fence. In the hills of Tisovec barbed wire or really any sort of property demarcation device doesn’t seem to exist, especially when it comes to grazing animals. That’s where the shepherd comes in. The first time I saw one of these men casually accompanying upwards of 80 sheep (I have yet to see a shepherdess) it felt so pastoral! While I’ve seen plenty since then and am no longer surprised by sightings, these occurrences have by no means become common-place to me. If anything I contemplate the role of the shepherd even more now.
I’m working at what is pretty much the equivalent of a college preparatory high school, which means virtually all of the students are expected to continue on to University. Many of them appear so disenchanted by school though that I wonder how they expect to live through at least four more years of it—when I ask them what they want to study or even where (for some of these students applications are due in a couple months…) “I don’t know” is the most common reply. I used to think that this blasé approach to education and I mean—I guess life—was a strictly American thing, but I guess it too has gone global. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for higher education; but I’m for it when there is a clear and present motivation. What’s this rush to fork over a pile of cash and half your waking life to the classroom if it is not your bag? Why haven’t more students told me they want to watch sheep?
What exactly are the pre-requisites for becoming a shepherd? What kind of foreknowledge or education is required, and what does the job entail? Do you have to “know somebody” to get into the industry (which isn’t that hard for Slovaks…) or do you have to be born into it—practically learn how to walk with the spring lambs? From what I’ve observed, these men work either solo or in tandem with one or two trusty dogs. It appears that the day is spent just walking from one place to another, in no predetermined or specified route, just managing the continuously fluid mass that is a flock of sheep. I often glance out windows during passing periods and throughout the day to check their progress. As I said the unit is never entirely stationary—a few sheep here and a couple there mosey around even if the others momentarily pause, ever-so-slightly changing the whole configuration of the flock—but the progress of the whole group seems so slow, so random, and not like it will produce any real results. The shepherd seems able to intuit the group tendency (or maybe he is directing it?) which I am sure is a skill picked up from spending countless hours with the flock. It’s amazing how much ground they cover between sightings, like watching a time lapse of a plant grow or something. One of the shepherds is even on crutches but he manages to get over hill-and-dale with his flock just fine.
A whole day spent alone can feel like a long time. I wonder how these solitary agents pass the hours day in, day out. Either they are exceptional at being rooted in the present time and place (being “where they are”), or they must spend a large part of their existence with their heads in the clouds or focused on next week’s commitments. Are the people who get into shepherding inclined to keep to themselves though? Perhaps they crave solitude and enjoy the time spent away from people, or at least out in valleys and fresh air. Or, maybe they hate it and are just doing it to pay the bills, or just have been doing it so long they know nothing else. And how long does a “shift” last anyways? Maybe they only do it for a few days at a time, so it serves as a sort of break or re-charge session. The men don’t seem to be outfitted with an overwhelming stock of supplies, so is shepherding just a daytime gig, or do they spend the night with their flocks as well—do they have established campsites?
This past summer I had a similar job—that is getting from one place to another with a flock in my charge. Granted I was working with a bunch of adolescent humans who were [more or less] aware of the general daily plan and our desired final destination. Our goal was also traversing distances for the sake of the journey and to eventually reach a specific endpoint more than for grazing purposes, though the steady stream of GORP and peanut butter ingested might prove otherwise. I really came to love and value the blatant simplicity of our days and the fulfillment of seeing physical results of success or a job accomplished. I felt more tuned in to my surroundings and “out of my head” than I had in a while. The job gave me a renewed sense of perspective. I wonder if the shepherds here feel the same way.
Like I said in one of my previous entries, my pace-of-life shift and plenty of self-time has prompted me to do some serious thinking about how we spend our time, and how we should spend it. I’m sure my gig from the summer has also influenced this new line of thought, but whatever the source of origin I like it. I think we can learn a lot from observing the seemingly menial task of babysitting sheep, let alone doing something like it. I think that a life (or even a brief hiatus from the usual daily-grind) stripped down to bare-bones goals and interaction with nature is a noble one, and perhaps the best remedy for this trans-continental epidemic of boredom, lack of inspiration and motivation. Of course it is unrealistic to say there should be a mass movement back to archaic trades and professions (next I’ll be telling you we need to resurrect bronze working guilds…) but I do think people need to find some way to physically engage themselves in their environment, and to do work that in some way reaps physical results or directly influences our lives. Like watching sheep. Sheep that make cheese. Cheese that feeds people.
Tisovec has a pretty good reputation for its sheep cheese, which probably has something do with the large volume of those animals that spend their days grazing on the surrounding lush hillsides. I’m not sure how many flocks there are in total, or how any sort of deviation or distinction between them works out. I don’t know if these are private flocks, if there is a king-pin sheep boss in town, or if the shepherds ever have turf battles or skirmishes—right now I can only speculate, which you can see I’ve done quite a bit.
For me running into a flock of sheep is a real novelty, or at least a free-range, mobile flock complete with a real live shepherd. When I have seen them in the past they were usually unsupervised and contained by some kind of fence. In the hills of Tisovec barbed wire or really any sort of property demarcation device doesn’t seem to exist, especially when it comes to grazing animals. That’s where the shepherd comes in. The first time I saw one of these men casually accompanying upwards of 80 sheep (I have yet to see a shepherdess) it felt so pastoral! While I’ve seen plenty since then and am no longer surprised by sightings, these occurrences have by no means become common-place to me. If anything I contemplate the role of the shepherd even more now.
I’m working at what is pretty much the equivalent of a college preparatory high school, which means virtually all of the students are expected to continue on to University. Many of them appear so disenchanted by school though that I wonder how they expect to live through at least four more years of it—when I ask them what they want to study or even where (for some of these students applications are due in a couple months…) “I don’t know” is the most common reply. I used to think that this blasé approach to education and I mean—I guess life—was a strictly American thing, but I guess it too has gone global. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for higher education; but I’m for it when there is a clear and present motivation. What’s this rush to fork over a pile of cash and half your waking life to the classroom if it is not your bag? Why haven’t more students told me they want to watch sheep?
What exactly are the pre-requisites for becoming a shepherd? What kind of foreknowledge or education is required, and what does the job entail? Do you have to “know somebody” to get into the industry (which isn’t that hard for Slovaks…) or do you have to be born into it—practically learn how to walk with the spring lambs? From what I’ve observed, these men work either solo or in tandem with one or two trusty dogs. It appears that the day is spent just walking from one place to another, in no predetermined or specified route, just managing the continuously fluid mass that is a flock of sheep. I often glance out windows during passing periods and throughout the day to check their progress. As I said the unit is never entirely stationary—a few sheep here and a couple there mosey around even if the others momentarily pause, ever-so-slightly changing the whole configuration of the flock—but the progress of the whole group seems so slow, so random, and not like it will produce any real results. The shepherd seems able to intuit the group tendency (or maybe he is directing it?) which I am sure is a skill picked up from spending countless hours with the flock. It’s amazing how much ground they cover between sightings, like watching a time lapse of a plant grow or something. One of the shepherds is even on crutches but he manages to get over hill-and-dale with his flock just fine.
A whole day spent alone can feel like a long time. I wonder how these solitary agents pass the hours day in, day out. Either they are exceptional at being rooted in the present time and place (being “where they are”), or they must spend a large part of their existence with their heads in the clouds or focused on next week’s commitments. Are the people who get into shepherding inclined to keep to themselves though? Perhaps they crave solitude and enjoy the time spent away from people, or at least out in valleys and fresh air. Or, maybe they hate it and are just doing it to pay the bills, or just have been doing it so long they know nothing else. And how long does a “shift” last anyways? Maybe they only do it for a few days at a time, so it serves as a sort of break or re-charge session. The men don’t seem to be outfitted with an overwhelming stock of supplies, so is shepherding just a daytime gig, or do they spend the night with their flocks as well—do they have established campsites?
This past summer I had a similar job—that is getting from one place to another with a flock in my charge. Granted I was working with a bunch of adolescent humans who were [more or less] aware of the general daily plan and our desired final destination. Our goal was also traversing distances for the sake of the journey and to eventually reach a specific endpoint more than for grazing purposes, though the steady stream of GORP and peanut butter ingested might prove otherwise. I really came to love and value the blatant simplicity of our days and the fulfillment of seeing physical results of success or a job accomplished. I felt more tuned in to my surroundings and “out of my head” than I had in a while. The job gave me a renewed sense of perspective. I wonder if the shepherds here feel the same way.
Like I said in one of my previous entries, my pace-of-life shift and plenty of self-time has prompted me to do some serious thinking about how we spend our time, and how we should spend it. I’m sure my gig from the summer has also influenced this new line of thought, but whatever the source of origin I like it. I think we can learn a lot from observing the seemingly menial task of babysitting sheep, let alone doing something like it. I think that a life (or even a brief hiatus from the usual daily-grind) stripped down to bare-bones goals and interaction with nature is a noble one, and perhaps the best remedy for this trans-continental epidemic of boredom, lack of inspiration and motivation. Of course it is unrealistic to say there should be a mass movement back to archaic trades and professions (next I’ll be telling you we need to resurrect bronze working guilds…) but I do think people need to find some way to physically engage themselves in their environment, and to do work that in some way reaps physical results or directly influences our lives. Like watching sheep. Sheep that make cheese. Cheese that feeds people.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Update--it's been a while...
So, I don’t have any sort of theme, moral lesson, or great epiphany moment for this entry; but it’s been a while and I feel as though I should update some folks. I’m currently a bit sick. I thought I was on the back end of my ailment but I woke up this morning with my face full of snott thick as cement and alarmingly yellow. I think it’s because I didn’t use my netti pot or whatever that thing is called last night or this morning. I bought one a few years ago when I had a raging sinus infection, and I can’t say I’ve used it much since then. While I was packing to come over here it seemed like a good thing to throw in the pile though. In the words of Big John, “I could buy myself as ass-kicking machine” for having not used it more over the interim years between when I bought it and now. It’s pretty much legit—combining the power of ocean spray or some other saline solution spray with a warm irrigation system. Plus, it also makes me contemplate my anatomy and remember words like “pharynx” from high school.
On Tuesdays I now venture to the next town over, Brezno. I’m going to be helping out in some classes at a school there so the students get some exposure to a real, live native English speaker and can practice a little. This school is called the Hotel academy or something, so the students there are mostly on track for jobs in hotel management, etc. They will most-def need to learn some conversational English, so it’ll be good. It gives me more exposure, and lets me hang out in another town for a while at least once a week-one that actually has shops, coffee shops and cafes with Wi-fi, and feels like it has some more hustle and bustle. I’m stoked.
The trees here are going NUTS! I don’t know if I’ve neglected to mention how insanely green this place is, but now the hills are flaming with licks of orange, red, and yellow, and every color in between. I’ve been taking mad-pictures, but it’s such a process you know? Some of my “colleagues” (that’s how we refer to each other—is that a post-college thing, or just a Slovak thing?) keep saying, “oh yeah, it’ll be great in a ___ *time in the future*. But I’m saying that this is a process—every day the hills look a little bit different, and if you don’t pay attention you might miss it! EGT has four floors, most of the classes I teach are on the 4th, and in the stairwells between each floor there are windows that look out on amazing views. The sights always blow my mind, but lately I’ve been especially mesmerized by them. I walk into class and say, “have you SEEN the trees today!?” I’m pretty sure they all think I’m a little on the crazy side, but I’m also pretty sure they secretly love it. I have some outspoken supporters, so it’s good.
I’m still trying to reach a level of homeostasis with my schedule—I had made some great improvements but then I was gone for a week so if felt sort of like two steps forward one step back… I also need to start really scheduling time to meet with and write about these people for my project, so this past week I’ve had to set some things straight. I think it’s all in a good way now.
We’re making some positive changes/innovations in some of the classes I’m working in, and I had to put the cabash (sp?) on a few that just weren’t working out. In some ways I feel like a sub-contractor, which I guess is exactly what a “teaching assistant” is here. I’m leading a seminar once a week in a Reformation class, working with a 5th year (the oldest kids) writing class, and once a week talking about “To Kill a Mocking Bird” with some 3rd years. I also work with some 5th year conversation classes and a few general English classes for 1’st and 2nd years. This is good; I’m finding ways to do what I’m good at and for lack of a better word, what I DIG! On Friday one of my Slovak “colleagues” invited me to her American Lit. Class literally two minutes before to talk about Ann Bradstreet’s, “The Author to her Book.” Talk about a lesson on the fly… The students were not the most thrilled to be paraphrasing, but I think after a while I got them into it. Hot dang, I didn’t realize how much I miss talking about literature already!
Next weekend I’m planning on visiting Budapest with the other American teachers here (who, by the way, ROCK) so that should be pretty exciting. I never made it there in ’07, but it was definitely on the list. After my week in Bratislava I am even more thankful for content with my overall situation here—I like the town, the pace of life here, and am in love with the natural setting. I also love the people I work with—as far and the Americans go we could not be a more motley bunch, perfect proof of how rockin’ God’s sense of humor is. But I’m learning so much from all of them, and having a grand ol’ time hanging out with them. Though the plan has been foiled twice now, I’m going on a pilgrimage to Secovce in Eastern Slovakia with Rachel to see where her people come from. Heidi is my running budd-ay, and everyone else has his/her own cool thang or cool activity we do together. I like it.
On Tuesdays I now venture to the next town over, Brezno. I’m going to be helping out in some classes at a school there so the students get some exposure to a real, live native English speaker and can practice a little. This school is called the Hotel academy or something, so the students there are mostly on track for jobs in hotel management, etc. They will most-def need to learn some conversational English, so it’ll be good. It gives me more exposure, and lets me hang out in another town for a while at least once a week-one that actually has shops, coffee shops and cafes with Wi-fi, and feels like it has some more hustle and bustle. I’m stoked.
The trees here are going NUTS! I don’t know if I’ve neglected to mention how insanely green this place is, but now the hills are flaming with licks of orange, red, and yellow, and every color in between. I’ve been taking mad-pictures, but it’s such a process you know? Some of my “colleagues” (that’s how we refer to each other—is that a post-college thing, or just a Slovak thing?) keep saying, “oh yeah, it’ll be great in a ___ *time in the future*. But I’m saying that this is a process—every day the hills look a little bit different, and if you don’t pay attention you might miss it! EGT has four floors, most of the classes I teach are on the 4th, and in the stairwells between each floor there are windows that look out on amazing views. The sights always blow my mind, but lately I’ve been especially mesmerized by them. I walk into class and say, “have you SEEN the trees today!?” I’m pretty sure they all think I’m a little on the crazy side, but I’m also pretty sure they secretly love it. I have some outspoken supporters, so it’s good.
I’m still trying to reach a level of homeostasis with my schedule—I had made some great improvements but then I was gone for a week so if felt sort of like two steps forward one step back… I also need to start really scheduling time to meet with and write about these people for my project, so this past week I’ve had to set some things straight. I think it’s all in a good way now.
We’re making some positive changes/innovations in some of the classes I’m working in, and I had to put the cabash (sp?) on a few that just weren’t working out. In some ways I feel like a sub-contractor, which I guess is exactly what a “teaching assistant” is here. I’m leading a seminar once a week in a Reformation class, working with a 5th year (the oldest kids) writing class, and once a week talking about “To Kill a Mocking Bird” with some 3rd years. I also work with some 5th year conversation classes and a few general English classes for 1’st and 2nd years. This is good; I’m finding ways to do what I’m good at and for lack of a better word, what I DIG! On Friday one of my Slovak “colleagues” invited me to her American Lit. Class literally two minutes before to talk about Ann Bradstreet’s, “The Author to her Book.” Talk about a lesson on the fly… The students were not the most thrilled to be paraphrasing, but I think after a while I got them into it. Hot dang, I didn’t realize how much I miss talking about literature already!
Next weekend I’m planning on visiting Budapest with the other American teachers here (who, by the way, ROCK) so that should be pretty exciting. I never made it there in ’07, but it was definitely on the list. After my week in Bratislava I am even more thankful for content with my overall situation here—I like the town, the pace of life here, and am in love with the natural setting. I also love the people I work with—as far and the Americans go we could not be a more motley bunch, perfect proof of how rockin’ God’s sense of humor is. But I’m learning so much from all of them, and having a grand ol’ time hanging out with them. Though the plan has been foiled twice now, I’m going on a pilgrimage to Secovce in Eastern Slovakia with Rachel to see where her people come from. Heidi is my running budd-ay, and everyone else has his/her own cool thang or cool activity we do together. I like it.
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