Just Not Feeling It

I'm not sure if it is because I'm getting sick or because I've been really missing connection with people lately or if it just a general feeling of homesickness and low spirits, but today was not a good day.

The problem is, when I feel like this, I usually have some sort of reason. I can usually identify the cause of my frustration or bad mood. I've got nothing today. Today was a good day, other than waking up a bit late and running to work. I suppose that never gets things off to a good start. Additionally, I was working on grades (any idea how long that takes with 21 classes?) and consequently missed my bathroom floor nap. I know this is a tiny little thing to complain about, but it really is 40 minutes during the week that I just... look forward to. Complete lunacy, I realize. Also, after a good amount of effort, my bathtub is still clogged and disgusting- just to add a little to the sunshine.

I guess I just realize every once in a while how little progress I feel like I'm making. I spent time tonight listening to someone try and fix this in my brain- but there are some things that cannot be fixed. I understand the situation. I realize that I essentially have 20-25 minutes a WEEK to work with these students. I'm aware of the face that I cannot form deep relationships with many kids that in turn aid management because I just don't have the time. Believe me- I know all of this. I know it in my head and in my heart, when I walk out of the classroom day after day just feeling like I "got by." This is not how I'm wired to operate.

Most of the time, I am good at understanding and letting myself "off the hook," as it were. Today is simply not one of those days.

Maybe tomorrow will be better. And the next post will certainly be more cheerful, because we're approaching a milestone, you and I. Be prepared.

Crushing After College

For years, the majority of crushes I developed on men progressed in the following way:

Meet someone interesting or good looking- usually both.

Learn a tiny bit about them in real life. (Usually something like a good presentation or decent outfit...)

Return from classes and surreptitiously log onto Facebook, immediately searching for them by any means- first name, last name, mutual friends, email, networks.

Find said person and immediately check relationship status.

If single, proceed with thoughts of walks in the park holding hands or, you know, getting married. (Anything is possible, right?)

If dating, proceed with thoughts of walks in the park holding hands or, you know, getting married. (It's not real until there is a ring on her finger, right?)

If engaged, proceed with thoughts of walks in the park holding hands or, you know, getting married. (Engaged couples sometimes break up, right?)

If married, lose interest completely. (I've got SOME moral boundaries, and "homewrecker" is not a title I'm looking to add to the repertoire.)

At this point, if still interested and imagining what our future children would look like, proceed to "info" page. Check out various affiliations- political (that can shut my interest down in a quick second or turn me on completely), religious (no Satanists, but no Bible Thumpers either).

Make quick judgements about the person based on their taste in music, whether or not they have read (what I deem) good books, movie preferences, and their job and education history.

Make further judgements about their choice of degree- continue with interest for anything sociological in nature, become intrigued with those involved in science or mathematics, develop skeptical curiosity for arts majors, judge people in business or marketing as shallow and black-souled, and completely shut down the computer for any Christian Ministries majors.

If still interested at this point, continue on to look at the Facebook "Wall." A source of amazing stalker-quality information, determine social status based on wall postings. Get jealous of that really pretty girl who seems to be "friends" with all the guys, and notice whether or not family is important. Make judgements based on friends and recent activity.

This is where things become quite serious. Proceed first to profile pictures. A safe gateway into the visual world, this allows one to see what type of person they WANT to be seen as- fun, eccentric, artistic, serious, likable, sociable, alone, important- the list goes on. Immediately forget said person if their profile picture is taken from above with a cell phone camera, or one of those shirtless mirror photos. Pretend you accidently searched for them by mistake.

If still interested, proceed to "all pictures." This, friends, is where things get serious. This is where unflattering pictures (not physically, but situational- I'm talking crazy parties or video game shots) can either hurt them or kill them, depending on how well they match the above criteria. For instance, some unflattering pictures are okay if they are perfectly aligned with my political and religious views, interesting enough, enjoy good music, have a really great major, and choose profile pictures that are insightful without being overly narcissistic. However, if they have a dumb major and seem to be involved in stupid things and have a profile picture taken that just reeks of self-importance, there is no more stalking to be done.

If still interested (there were about 2 guys EVER who made it to this point), giggle and then proceed to check out their profile whenever possible. Grow intensely jealous of their female friends and never let them know you have a clue who they are. Because things would be seriously awkward if by some miracle you had an actual conversation with said person. "My favorite book is..." "Yeah, I know." See how things can get weird?

This is how I used to crush.

Men: If you are reading this and think I'm crazy, think again. The specifics of my crush progression might be off (some women are into vapid, shallow marketing majors :) but I promise that someone has done this to you at some point. If fact, depending on the person you are, there is a chance that some woman is doing this to you right now, as you read. Don't log into Facebook and do anything- you are just feeding the stalking frenzy.

Now, I develop interest in people who- (GET THIS)- I am not even friends with on Facebook. GASP. I get to know them over a period of time, not while sitting bleary eyed in front of the computer screen at 4 in the morning avoiding that research paper. I learn about their interests and their family and their lives and their goals and the person they are- judgement is still there, but it is a lot harder to shut someone down for superficial reasons if they are speaking with you and know you exist. I have no idea what their father looks like (and therefore no gauge for their eventual aging process) and develop a relationship with their personality, not their friends and their Facebook activity.

I kind of like it.

I think I've matured, yes? I'm not saying this new way is better- I'm just commenting on the difference :)

Holiday Plans

Some of you who have been reading this blog from the beginning can probably skip through my introduction here, because it really just is going to be repetitive.

Friends, I'm a planner. I plan things- I plan my life and my career and my day. I can change my plans, certainly (HELLO, Romania) but I like to know what is going on a decent amount of time before it happens.

I've recently had someone stumble into my life who has helped me relax a bit in this way, and I'll forever be thankful for that influence- but I'm still a planner at heart.

Now is an acceptable time to post about my plans for the holiday, yeah?

First of all, I'd like to say that I just have an incredible amount of wonderful people in my life. Here we go.

December 23- Leave my apartment in Bucharest at around 6:30 in the morning, and arrive in Detroit that night around 5:30, helped in part by the 7 hour time difference, involving the rotation of the earth on it's axis and other things I don't quite understand. I'm going to be exhausted.

December 24- Bake goodies all day long, as this is primarily what I have to offer the various groups of people I will be seeing over the next 9 days. I could bring things home from Romania, but Bucharest doesn't really have special things like that- and who doesn't want some cookies baked with love? Hang out with the H~ family, something I am probably more excited about than I should be. All of them, too- M~ included!

December 25- I think this day has some sort of special meaning.

December 26- Leave for western Michigan (not to be confused with Western Michigan, though I WILL pass that on the way to my destination in western Michigan) for the start of what I'm sure will be a wonderful trip. Meeting new people is rather exciting for me.

December 27- Hang out in Holland with a group of people who help me to keep breathing sometimes- P~ and R~ and C~ and C~ and A~ and L~ all in one lovely cottage, eating goodies and sharing love.

December 28- Leave early in the morning and drive to Aunt D~ and Uncle G~ house just south of Chicago. Happy holidays, family! Meet my family there (J~ included) and then go to our hotel in the Loop. Eat loads of food (see previous blog) and have fun in the Chicago Winter Wonderland.

December 29- Eat breakfast at Lou Mitchells and then leave the city, headed for Granger Indiana and the home of G~, M~, L~, M~ and C~. Spend time with them talking and laughing and playing games (I'm sure).

December 30- Wrestling invitational at Comstock. Joy of my heart, but at least I'll get to see E~ wrestle once this year. Plus, I was really starting to miss the smell of adolescent boy sweat that has permeated those mats. Delicious.

December 31- Spend a quiet evening with my dear L~ watching movies and talking and toasting the new year.

January 1- WOW... I have no idea what I'm going to do on this day. Probably take my lovely mother out for her Christmas present (if she reads this far in the blog she'll probably have an idea of what she is getting) and then maybe go and see a movie with my brothers C~ and E~ because we all know I'm the coolest and they love me the most. If they don't share this sentiment I'll guilt them somehow- the "I live in Romania" card is predicted to appear.

January 2- Get on a plane in Detroit at 9:30 in the evening.

I'm a planner, and I've got mad plans. This is going to be the best Christmas Vacation EVER. I'm determined.

Seriously though- even if things don't work out quite as well as I have planned for, I still have an incredible week filled with people who help me to find beauty and joy and humor and love and hope when I need it most. Who could ask for more than that, and in all honestly, isn't this what Christmas is about?

Success

I've recently stumbled upon the amazing site known as Wordle- it makes "clouds" from words you paste into the site. So cool.

This is one of my very favorite quotes, by Emerson:


"To laugh often and much, to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children, to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends, to appreciate beauty, to find the best in others, to leave the world a bit better, whether by a child, a garden, or a redeemed social condition, to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded."





Another, by Jonathan Kozol:

"The best of teachers are not merely the technicians of proficiency, they are also ministers of innocence, practitioners of tender expectations... teachers like these believe that every child who has been intrusted to their care comes into their classroom with inherent value to begin with."

Christgiving

This past weekend I went to Timişoara to celebrate the holiday season with Dan and other people in his life. We called our celebration "Christgiving," and we were bound and determined to do things the right way. We ended up with an American/Romanian/Turkish/Asian feast...

It really was an incredible weekend of friends and fun- we went and saw the new Harry Potter movie (eh...), played games, walked a lot in the rain, drank cappuccinos, and ATE.



The cookfest started when Dan and I went to the store and got nearly everything we needed, sans celery, ice cream, and… oh yeah… turkey. We returned back to his apartment and I got started with the cooking, while he ran to another store to try and find turkey. He returned with celery and ice cream, and set off again to find some turkey. He walked about 40 minutes to the biggest supermarket in town and found ONE turkey, but it weighed 7.5 kilograms, and totally would not have fit in his oven. He bought a chicken instead and some turkey cutlets.

While he was gone, I peeled potatoes, toasted bits of bread for stuffing, prepared the vegetables for the stuffing, made some chicken stock, made the gravy, made the glaze, made the stuffing, made the mashed potatoes, and got the green beans ready.

When Dan got back with the chicken, I was kind of sad because it looked so empty inside. Thanks to the lovely A~, we cooked it for about 30 minutes in salt water, while I made a mixture of rice, onions, paprika, and celery to stuff it with. A~ mixed up some tomato paste with garlic to spread over it, and then we used the cola glaze to pour it over the rest of the chicken. We put that into the oven, having NO idea how it would turn out.

I peeled and cut the apples for the apple crisp, and started to make it, spilling an ENTIRE bag of sugar in the process- it was a bit of a disaster, but kind of fun as well. We had that ready to put into the oven when the chicken was done, to cook during dinner.

While the chicken was cooking I grilled the turkey cutlets with some oil, paprika, and salt. They were delicious. I also cooked the corn and the green beans, and reheated the gravy, the stuffing, and the mashed potatoes.

It was GOOD.

Basically- we did this thing RIGHT, and had a really wonderful meal together. The first time I cooked an entire Thanksgiving feast nearly by myself, but... hey, it worked out pretty well.

It's Bribe Time

Playing a stupid, overly dramatic, emotional American girl is a lot easier if you ARE a stupid, overly dramatic, emotional American girl.

Friday morning was pretty exhausting for some reason, probably because I knew when I got up that my day wouldn’t actually end for another 19 hours. Regardless, this is my especially difficult day- four first grade classes in a row followed by a class of eighth graders that don’t seem to care much and a group of really challenging fifth graders. I had a very time-consuming lesson planned for the first grade classes, and was confident for the first time that I wouldn’t be filling time during the period, but wishing for more of it. It involved some cutting and pasting to create family vocabulary flashcards, and I thought I was a winner… until about 7:55 am when I found myself arguing with a six year old child. I was showing her exactly where in her book to cut, and she just kept repeating the word “NO” over and over again. Pretty soon I realized it is because she didn’t have scissors. No biggie, right… we’ll share. Well, that plan worked out until I realized that four of the thirty six children in the classroom had scissors. Do you have ANY idea how slowly thirty minutes can pass in a classroom packed with little bodies that understand about 23 English words at best?

On track for my next class (certain that I had seen these children with scissors) I arrive outside the classroom about two minutes early to find the classroom completely empty. Hmm, a little break, I suppose. This was perfectly okay until I got to my next class 45 minutes later, and guess what? They weren’t there either. This could have been about an hour at home that I instead spent lying on the floor in the teacher bathroom, but no big deal. I mean, why TELL the English teacher that you have a field trip on Friday?

I arrived home and packed quickly to head to Timişoara, leaving my apartment and getting to the train station relatively early. I got on the train no problem, found my assigned seat, and settled in. About ten minutes later, a man walks up, pulls out his ticket, and… it looks exactly the same as mine, with one small difference. Mine said 02-NOV-2010, and his read 26-NOV-2010. Guess which one is correct? Having no idea why the ticket agent sold me a ticket for November 2nd AFTER that date, I took my stuff to the end of the car and just stood for a while. We started moving, and some very nice older men invited me to sit in the extra seat across from them. I waited nervously for a while, and asked a guy sitting next to me what I should do- he told me to get prepared to bribe the conductor along with my valid but useless ticket.

The older gentleman across the aisle from me reached for my ticket, and gave me a reassuring look. When the first conductor came, he just looked at the ticket and moved on, but I realized he hadn’t validated or punched it at all. So when the second conductor came I was a bit nervous as I handed him my ticket. He just stared at me for a while, my eyes swimming in tears, acting completely clueless (which wasn’t far from the truth). All of a sudden the man across the aisle stands up and just goes at this man, arguing like his life was dependent on it. The conductor punched my ticket and handed it back to me, and moved on. The man just smiled, patted me on the shoulder, and sat back down. Thanking him again and again, he just shrugged me off and fell asleep- or pretended to- about three minutes later. God bless the kindness of strangers, yeah?

Life Sans Convenience

Life here in Romania isn't totally backward or anything. I have blazing fast internet in my apartment when the power doesn't go out, and it usually only takes me about 2 or 3 tries to light the oven. I just put on more layers when it gets cold, and make up lessons that don't require the use of paper because this is a school system without copy machines.

I'm pretty low maintenance... these things are all okay with me.

I was talking with someone last week about all of these little life adjustments that I've, quite honestly, just gotten used to. I mentioned something about having to hang my clothing, and he was like, "You don't have a dryer?" I then launched into this explanation:

Well, I do have a dryer, I just don't know how to use it. It is a combination washer and dryer, and I cannot figure out how to get the "dryer" part of it to run. The reason I know it is both is because when I did my first load of laundry back in September, the machine went through a whole cycle, but when I opened it up, the clothing hadn't been washed- they were all dry. I messed around with some settings and the next time, it came out dry again. Once more I tried it, and it finally washed the clothing- but now I cannot figure out how to get back to it being a dryer.

This person asked me to give him the make and model of my unit, and he very kindly investigated it for me. He says it took only about 30 minutes, I doubt this... but his findings the next day...

"Sooooooooo... AWE 6514... your washing machine is a washing machine is a washing machine"

"Not a dryer?"

"Nope."

"I really have nothing to say right now."

"Nothing to say, just going to have to keep hang drying."

This has been your Stephanie moment of the week, presented to you by... the shame of my father.

Dummy

For most of my life, I have been a complete idiot about romantic relationships. There were a million other factors that got in the way forever, but when I finally began to mature in this area a little bit, I just proved to be a moron.

Having finally, MAYBE, found some clarity and therefore sanity about the whole thing, I have a few things to say.

1. Men, women's magazines are doing you a huge disservice when they tell us "how to be" in order to attract a great guy. I've spent my entire life convincing myself that I will always have more emotionally at-stake in a relationship than a man possibly could have. This just isn't true. We've been conditioned to think that men are simply sex-driven machines who can be broken eventually and convinced that life is just easier with one woman and feelings. And so we cater to it, and end up unhappy.

2. Women are bad communicators. The games we play are simply ridiculous, especially when it comes to the opposite sex. Why flirt around the subject and tease and play with someone like that? It isn't to be coy or cute- it is mostly a fear of rejection, a fear of putting ourselves out there. There is a lot to be learned from watching males communicate with each other- just frank and efficient and effective. I know I'm betraying the sisterhood here, but we could probably be a lot happier if we stopped infusing assumptions into EVERY conversation we have.

3. There is nothing wrong with dating. I was raised in a belief system and then went to college in a culture where you just don't date. Nothing is casual, and the amount of strain and stress and pressure this creates is ridiculous. I'm not saying we shouldn't be picky about who we spend time with. I would never seriously date someone who I couldn't see myself with long term- that would just be a pointless and probably hurtful exercise. However, how are you supposed to know that if you don't get to know someone a bit? I went on a very random and spontaneous "date" during college that lasted about 45 minutes, and someone asked me if I thought I could marry this person. I honestly was like, "let me find out his last name first." The pressure just kills chances all over the place.

4. Just because it doesn't look like a storybook doesn't mean it isn't real. For a really long time, romantic gestures just made me curl up and cry, because I wasn't getting them from anyone. I'm talking things like planning amazing dates and sending flowers for no reason and creating memories in beautiful places- movie romance. Now, I just curl up and giggle a bit... because life is about more than that, I've come to believe. I'm not saying couples shouldn't show affection like that, and creativity within a relationship is certainly welcome. But at some point, doesn't it become about choosing to stay when that person has been acting ugly? Isn't it about communicating love every day, even if just by doing the dishes for someone? Isn't it about knowing the other person deeply and caring for their well-being? I'm not saying I would no longer appreciate romantic gestures and sweet words... I'm just beginning to see through the charm to the real thing.

5. Confidence is, as my mother always told me, key. I have spent a good amount of time not only working to change parts of my personality, but apologizing for it. I have good friends who do the exact same thing. We have this image in our heads of what the perfect woman is, and we try to shape ourselves to that. Women have the worst double standards for ourselves. Many of us would never expect a man to fit into a box, and we love the quirky things about their personalities. Why do we think all men want THIS kind of woman? On a deeper level, we really are looking for someone to love us not just despite all of the things we view as flaws, but because of them. So why not just run with it?

6. Baggage makes things easier. I'm not saying that unloading emotional problems on someone is the best idea... but we all have things we carry around with us. It is really difficult to be emotionally vulnerable with someone if they are completely stable and whole themselves. Feeling like the "weak" one in a relationship isn't easy, and really is ultimately unsustainable. I've said this before- maybe not here- but it really is about finding someone whose baggage matches yours.

I think that I am done ranting for now. I'm really not an angry person, I just feel like I've grown a lot in this area of my life recently.

I know that some of you who know the history are chuckling right now, others are simply confused, some amused and wondering what is going on in my life, and some might wonder exactly what kind of narcotic I took this morning. Regardless of what category you fit into, please don't read too much into this. I'm done communicating like a woman for a little while- it is what it is :)

Don't worry... I will go back to being cryptic and sentimental shortly.

Yum

There are many things I miss about the United States. I miss familarity and being comfortable with the language. I miss the ability to not be awkward every time I go somewhere new... or anytime, really. I miss walking down the street without getting stares from people, and I miss hearing English.

I even miss the CTA.

However, more than any one thing right now, I miss food. I've gone entire days without eating here, because I simply forget, and just lack excitement for the food I can make in my apartment. I have one pot, one skillet, and one baking pan. The oven is roughly the size of my toilet, and I am usually just too exhausted to try and decifer items at the grocery store.

I was talking with someone recently about some of the dinner parties I've had and cooked for, about recipes I like to make, and different foods I like to eat. This person cooks as well, and I am continually impressed... and jealous. Seriously, sometimes they'll be describing something and my mouth will literally begin to water. No, I'm not hungry for the soup in the cabinet or the pasta (again) or the chicken and rice and veggies. I'm hungry for what THEY are making. I want their steak and sasuage and potatoes and goulash and I even want their Hamburger Helper.

I would have a harder time with the whole part of these conversations if it were not for one thing: I'm coming home in December.

Perfect excuse for a list, I'm thinking.

Texas Roadhouse- just the buns
Taco Bell- I know... my stomach is going to explode after 4 months of abstinence
Chinese- mmm, egg drop soup and egg rolls and orange chicken
Thai- chicken pad thai, anyone?
Olive Garden- a shoutout to my dear C~
Subway- I can't help it...
Mancinos- ham and cheese grinder, yum
Meatloaf- courtsey of Theresa
Spaghetti w/Meat Sauce- again, Theresa
Jet's Pizza- 8 corner pepperoni
Chef Salad- lettuce, carrots, egg, ham, turkey, cheese, and 1000 Island Dressing
Vienna Beef Hot Dog- oooh buddy
Velveeta Shells and Cheese
B.L.T. Sandwich- I don't even care if it is Christmas
Veggies and French Onion Dip- Theresa :)
Chocolate Chip Cookies- baking day!
Scotcharoos- again... part of baking day
Puppy Chow- baking day again
Garretts Popcorn- there are no words, except to say Chicago Mix

Yeah, I know it probably isn't humanly possible to eat all of these things in the 9 days I'll be home. That is 27 meals. 9 of which are breakfast. But don't worry- I won't waste a thing.

Eh, It's Romania...

I've been really neglectful of this blog lately. I don't ever want to get to the point where I am writing just for the sake of writing, and so I took a bit of a break. Also, I don't want to just come on here and complain, and this week was a bit odd.

I've learned a new phrase that I'm going to use whenever I have some problems.

So, next time I lose part of my vision on the way to school, I'll say "Eh, it's Romania."

Next time I sit through an entire class period watching children literally take over the room while waiting for quiet, I'll say "Eh, it's Romania."

Next time I get squeezed on a bus, I'll say "Eh, it's Romania."

Next time I get stuck in an elevator, I'll say "Eh, it's Romania."

And the next time I get "nudged" out of the way by a car, I'll say "Eh, it's Romania."

Bad Bad World- Guster

This seems like an appropriate blog. I have had this song stuck in my head for a good amount of time, and it is currently the middle of the night :)

Enjoy!

I'm wide awake
It's the middle of the night
I'm standing in the dark
Waiting up for the light

And here I'll remain
Till the sun is in the sky
Standing in the dark
Waiting up for the light.

There is love,
There is peace in this world
So take it back,
Say it's not what you thought
Grab a hold
Take these melodies
With your hands
Write a song to sing

Isn't such a bad, bad world
And I say

These times are strange
I can feel it in the night
I'm standing in the dark
Holding up for the light

And here I'll remain
Till the great sun shines
Standing in the dark
Waiting up for the light

People!

My friend J~ came to Bucureşti yesterday, and I met her after classes. It was SO good to see a familar face in my city. We had a really great time, and ended up going back to the place where she was couchsurfing to eat dinner.

There, I met a couple, A~ and R~ McMasters. Yeah, that's not a local name. THAT, my friends, is an American couple. We had such a wonderful time talking and eating and drinking and just BEING with people. It was great. I'm sure we will get together again soon- I found city friends!

J~ and I met up again today before she left for the next city, and we went to dinner in the Lipscani district of Bucureşti. Considered the "old" part of the city, it is really what the entire area used to look like before the building projects of the 1980's. It is a really lovely area, but also rather upsetting because it is beautiful. The whole city USED to be this way- incredible. What kind of maniac tears down such history and charm and character? I had a really great time with J~ though, and it was actually really sad to see her go. I'm certain that we will keep in touch, and I feel so glad to have connected with her.

Regardless, I had really missed people. And I found some. Blessings.

Bullfighter

One of them better parts of visiting Braşov this past weekend was the opportunity to meet people from all over the world. Transylvania is apparently a hub of crazy party-goers during Halloween, as demonstrated by the fact that there were literally no beds in the entire town of Braşov. Regardless, there is a certain amount of comraderie among people traveling in the same places, and I got to know a lot of people.

I met one group of men after flagging down the bus on the way to Bran Castle. Five men from Spain. Five Spanish men, in all their glory. Four of them were really friendly and talkative, and we chatted about traveling and life for most of the journey. The fifth Spainard was a really big guy, leaning back in his seat, arms crossed, hat pulled down over his eyes and sleeping. He was dressed (as they all were) like a typical Spainard.

One of the men leaned in and said (in the most amazing Spanish accent) "You know bullfight?" I kinda giggled and said "What?"
"You know what I mean when I say bullfight?"
"Yes."
"You come to Spain and I show you bullfight."
"Um, okay?"
"You know how I show you bullfight?"
"No, how?"
He gestures to the sleeping man, and says "This man. This man is bullfighter."
"Really??"

The sleeping man, with all the drama that a movie director would infuse into the scene, raises his hat, revealing eyes that could blow Antonio Banderas out of the water, says in a deep grovely voice "I AM BULLFIGHTER."

Seconds later he was sleeping again, and I was trying desperately not to laugh.

Unashamed

I had the opportunity to talk with my mom today after quite a while. I'm feeling rather badly about the situation she is finding herself in. To begin, both myself and my younger brother C~ left home in the same week in August. I have not really been "home" in about four years, but I was still around for every holiday and lots of visits. C~ left for college at Northern Michigan University in Marquette, and I flew to Bucureşti. She had my youngest brother E~ left, but he is a senior in high school. He really isn't there, to be honest.


With the wrap-up of the football season, she is essentially saying goodbye to a fall tradition she has enjoyed for 13 years, since the boys were just little guys. Every day that passes is one less day she has to be a mother with kids in the house. She lives halfway between being an empty-nester and a nurturing mother. Additionally, E~ recently made the decision to repeat his senior year of high school and study abroad for a year, probably in Croatia. This means that if I stay in Europe, the child closest to home will be C~ at a 10 hour car ride away.


If you happen to know my mom, be extra nice to her, okay? She seems to be managing quite well, but I'm still sad for her. Maybe send her an encouragement card or take her out for lunch or just give her a hug. She will be needing lots of that in the next few months. I told her today that she raised exactly the kind of children one wants- strong, independent people. Her reply: "And they all want to leave me."


Regardless, this post really isn't about my poor mother. It is about something we talked about that makes me laugh and horrifies me at the same time.


She was recently at a gathering and someone made a comment that was just downright rude about the physical appearance of an employee at a local store. She didn't really know this particular person, but she made fun of them good-naturedly by referring to a book that I'm quite sure the person had not read, considering the fact that they didn't understand the reference at all. (T~ does this a lot, getting a lot of pleasure from being smarter than people without them even knowing it.) She told me the whole story, and after I reigned in my laughter, I just sat here. This woman who said this terrible thing didn't know many people at this gathering. First of all- she wouldn't have said it if she didn't think people were going to agree with her, right? Secondly- what the hell is she thinking that she WON'T tell people?


In other news, I got a wonderful surprise in the mail today. I had a package notice and didn't know who it could be from- it was an amazing gift from my cousins Mary and Brian. It is so sweet to feel the support and love from the States. I am often struck by just how lucky I am, to be living in this place, with the opportunity to travel and develop my teaching skills and meet new people. But I am constantly reminded- whether by emails or Skype dates or Facebook posts or packages- that I am not alone.


And I now have 176 Crystal Light packets, in addition to slippers, candy, gum, chapstick, a generous gift card, and hand sanitizer. Booyah.

The Plan

I realized something today while teaching a class that seriously just would NOT be quiet.

I am not here to be a teacher. I am here to be an accent. And when around 50% (or more) of your students don't bring their textbooks to class, it is time to do something different. Especially when the textbooks (in all honesty) are rather horrid.

Honestly, these older students have English teachers that are completely capable. They have classes every week with these people who know them better and can speak Romanian and control the classroom. My job is not to teach them English. My job is to expose them to English, and American/British culture, and my accent.

What better way to do this than by reading a novel?

Starting immediately, I am going to be basing everything in the classroom around novels. Each group/level will obviously be reading a different book, but for the most part we will follow the same format in grades 5, 6, 7, and 8. I will read the books aloud to the students. We will then have book discussions and do fun projects and chapter summaries and chapter questions and written responses and vocabulary.

I am 8 weeks into this thing, and I hope that I have found something that works. I would feel bad about "giving up" if this were not so cool. Plus, these kids should read Beverly Cleary and Roald Dahl and Lois Lowry. Kids everywhere should read these books- it's a new mission.

I Lied...

I'll get to my lie a little later in the post.

To begin, travel is magic. Traveling alone is magic as well, and I wasn't so sure this would be the case.

I arrived in Brasov on Friday, and ended up talking until after 3 in the morning, just soaking in the comfortable English conversation with new friends J~, S~, and T~ from Brunei and New Zealand. I got up on Saturday morning and went for a hike up Tampa Mountain- literally one of those experiences you remember forever- the ones that, in a really odd sort of way, define you. It was about 75 minutes up the mountain with all the switchbacks, and I got to the top right as the sun was peaking over the edge. I just stood with my hands outstretched and breathed and screamed and cried because of all the beauty and blessing in my life. See, there are benefits to traveling alone!

The rest of the day was spent exploring the remainder of the center of Brasov- it is an adorable, beautiful, amazing city. The center is so untouched by the Communist influences (bloc apartments, etc...) that seem to be everywhere else in Romania. It was just pure and clean and friendly and warm. The weather was absolutely perfect- the most wonderful autumn weekend. I got moved with my newfound friend J~ to an apartment because the hostel was booked out, and we had dinner at a local restaurant with Romanian specialties. Including the "grilled pig brain." Yes, friends- I at BRAIN! It was rather mushy, but actually rather tasty. We then went out with the two guys from New Zealand in the city center- near Piata Sfatului. It was a magical kind of day.

J~ was supposed to leave in the morning for the next leg of her journey, but she ended up delaying it a day so she could stay and go to Bran with me. THIS was my lie. In the last post, I said that I was not going to Dracula's castle- we did, in fact, go to Dracula's castle at Bran. It is about a half hour bus trip from Brasov, and we (with the help of two Serbian girls H~ and N~) flagged down the bus from the side of the road and made the trek.

Bran is (to be completely honest) rather disappointing. It is certainly a HUGE tourist attraction, but the castle itself isn't amazing. Regardless, for the rest of my life I will be able to say that I spent Halloween 2010 at Dracula's Castle. Honestly, what else in life IS there?

My return home was late (as trains usually are) but rather comfortable. I enjoyed part of the journey in a compartment with a music teacher, an old woman, a man who just kept muttering "frumosa" (meaning "beautiful") to himself, and a three year old child. Around the halfway point my compartment emptied out and I was joined by two men who were- to put it mildly- Romanian gods. They are volleyball coaches. Mhhmmm.

Bucuresti was waiting for me in all its glory. It always amazed me that not only my apartment, but my metro station and my street and my city are all the same when I return. I come back with an entire weekend full of new experiences and memories and friends and thoughts and emotions- and everything here is the same.

It is like magic.

I'll Be Home For...

I'm dreamin' tonight, of a place I love (okay, not really... but the people I love)
Even more than I usually do (because it's been two months...)
And although I know it's a long road back (really long- 20-ish hours long)
I promise you (to the best of my ability)

I'll be home for Christmas (SING it!)
You can count on me (but TAROM airlines, not so much...)
Please have snow and mistletoe (skip the mistletoe- we'd BETTER have snow)
And presents under the tree (not too many- I have to get back to Bucharest)
Christmas Eve will find me (I think I'll find it, rather)
Where the love light beams (hahahahaha- have you MET our family?)
I'll be home for Christmas (again- SING it!)
If only in my dreams (nope- it's official)

Friends, I'm coming home for Christmas! I'll be leaving Bucharest on December 23 and returning on January 3. I'm rather excited.

And the Beat Goes On...

These weeks pass with almost a maddening speed and a curious rhythm. There are days I spend doing almost nothing but reading and talking and surfing the internet. Other days I accomplish amazing amounts of work and go places and do wonderful things. The point, though, is that I usually get to Wednesday night and marvel at how quickly the week has gone. I make it through the long days of Thursday and Friday, and through the usually boring weekend days, and spend Sunday evening wondering, again, how I managed to lose the previous four days.

Regardless of energy or time or activity or schedule, my days in Romania are passing with a frightening rush. I feel it in the comfort I am developing with the city and the language. I feel it with the chilly breeze that sometimes blows me down the street. I see it in the changing leaves, and experience it in the darkness when I walk to school in the morning. This weekend will mark 2 months since I traveled to Romania. What have I done with my time?

Is sounds incredibly cliche to just say "Carpe Diem," but this is what I am struggling with. How much of this year is about LIVING here, which includes quiet evenings and days spent watching shows... and how much is about experiencing things I couldn't otherwise if I was living in the States? I'm sure this is a battle I'll continue to fight in my head.

For now, I'm going to Brasov this weekend. Booyah.

Support

I am sitting here, eating Pretzel M&M's, compliments of my dear friend C~. She prepared the most splendid package for me. I will detail the contents here:

1. Bottle of Eucerin Intensive Repair lotion- very needed, and lotion here is EXPENSIVE.
2. Packets (two) of Kleenex tissues- also very needed, and will allow me to stop carrying a toilet paper roll around with me.

3. Burt's Bees Beeswax Lip Balm- I just used up what I brought over here, and lamented at the fact that it would be ages before I had any again. How did she know?

4. Bottle of Echinacea for Immune System Health- I laughed and laughed... and then took one.

5. Two packs of M&M's, which just so happen to be my favorite varities (Pretzel and Peanut Butter).

6. One package of Crystal Light Fruit Punch "On the Go" mix- whoa, buddy.

7. Three packages of Tropical Punch Kool-Aid. My life is complete.

8. Two packages of Taco Seasoning- Mexican night :)

9. One bag of Sixlets candy- great for munching!

10. One packet of Tiny-Size Chiclets Gum :)

11. Three boxes of KRAFT Macaroni and Cheese- this might have stemmed from the tears I shed while talking to her about missing Macaroni and Cheese.

12. One very lovely card filled with encouragement and support and love.

I am not sure what I would do without all the amazing people in my life. I've had a relatively rough patch recently, but the amount of support that is just flowing into my heart is incredible.

I am very officially going to Brasov this weekend. I made my hostel reservations last night (Rolling Stone Hostel!) and bought my train tickets today. I'll be leaving Friday afternoon and returning home Sunday evening. I have no idea what I'll do, but it is supposed to be a beautiful weekend. I feel mostly safe about traveling by myself, and I'm hoping that some more time away from the city will be good.

Blessings to all of you- and thank you for the unending support. It is so appreciated.

Idea Collecting

I've had a rough couple of days, despite the amazing amount of time I have spent talking with people I love. This is, of course, better than not talking. But it does sometimes make me more homesick than I would have been otherwise. Not more lonely, just more homesick.

Because of this, I've found it particularly important to start making plans for time spent here in Romania. I've discussed this a lot with people, and I don't want to just waste these next 8 months, nor do I want to wish them away. However, I think that having things to look forward to will help me get through the days and weeks of nothing but school.

A good amount of these plans involve travel. I've already made plans to go back to Timisoara for the Thanksgiving weekend, but there are other parts of Romania I want to explore as well. Currently on the list: Brasov, Arad, Baia Mare, Iasi, Suceave, Sibiu, Braila, Cluj-Napoca, Targu Mures, and Constanta... I'm looking at a trip to Brasov this coming weekend, hoping it can work out.

I would also like to go back to Oradea at some point, the town I was in the first time I came to Romania.

Mostly though, I am wondering what I should do for Christmas. I have nearly 2 weeks off of school and no one to spend the holidays with. It would be easy to stay here in Bucharest and just take some time to rest- but before I knew it the entire break would be gone and I would be disappointed in myself. I really should use this time for traveling. There are so many places in Eastern Europe I want to go: Prague, Vienna, Bratislava, Istanbul, Sofia. However, would it be wise to travel out-of-country during Christmas, or should I save all of that for another time? Looking at all the places in Romania I want to visit, it feels silly to leave when I have two weeks to explore them all.

When my dad comes at the end of January, we are probably going to drive to Budapest, stopping in Timisoara on the way. This will also be a chance to see more of Romania, and in a car we can go more quickly and do whatever we want to.

I have a week off at spring break as well that could be used for traveling. It is just tricky to figure out this stuff alone...

Regardless. I have plans.

Little Victories

I've come to rely on what is perhaps the most cliche notion about teaching (a field just FILLED with cliche); the notion that we must celebrate the small victories.

Because this is a late night post after a few really awful and mostly sleepless nights, I might ramble here. My viewpoint will probably change in the course of my writing. Fair warning.

For a long time in the classroom, I was dissapointed and discouraged. I thought of myself as a mediocre teacher because I couldn't reach everyone, and I couldn't do everything. I had kids who misbehaved, and there were moments that I wasn't at my best. My deepest personal criticism took shape in the critique I gave myself while in front of a classroom. These are children- they deserve the very best we have to offer. I am doing them a huge disservice to stand in front of a room and not bring my "top game," not pour every ounce of energy I have into the lesson, not love them with everything I have to give.

And then I pacified myself by celebrating the small accomplishments that one can see every day. Yes, three kids might not understand what you are talking about- but fifteen got the message! Child A actually turned their homework in, and Child B responded well to the chat we had earlier. Child C might be a holy terror, but I brough Child D over to the good side. I developed the ability to excuse away ENTIRE lessons just filled with awful because I could find one or two or five tiny little good things. And so I convinced myself that I was a good teacher, that I was skilled, that I could do this. I developed the ability to overlook the larger injustices that play out in my classroom every day. When did I stop grieving over the social inequality I see in the eyes of my students? When did I lose my taste for real knowledge to take root instead of just compliance and understanding? At what point did I give up my ideals?

Romania is not ideal. I don't get my way in the classroom. There aren't nice spaces for children to be creative and expressive and free. I can't even freaking COMMUNICATE with half my students on a level beyond basic vocabulary, and I am so tired of saying "linistit" and singing "Head and Shoulders" and counting down from five to get attention. I'm tired of having 21 classes and 600 students and the overwhelming knowledge that I won't get to know all of them personally, which is the reason I wanted to teach in the first place. I'm tired of finding out last minute that classes don't have books and missing teachers meetings because no one tells me and I'm tired of being alone.

Always in the back of my head was the lingering notion that I was just quieting down the inner demon. He or she or it is rearing it's ugly head this week.

I am tired of feeling like a failure.

Uplift

I had an awful, miserable kind of day yesterday. I'm not sure eactly what it was- the weather, having too much free time, being alone, dreading my class of terror, homesickness.

I had my worst teaching moment ever. It was completely out of control. I discovered that this class doesn't have books for some reason, and so my entire lesson plan was scrapped. I had two students out of 37 bring in homework. I was exactly the kind of teacher I don't want to be. I don't think that most of the students understand what I am saying, but those who do cause problems. I can teach and I can teach well- what I do in there is not teaching. It is yelling. I tried just ignoring it, but they get so loud and out of control it is disruptive to other classes. I have no idea what to do, other than what I did. Which was cry in the bathroom after my 40 minutes in hell was over.

I came home and just dwelled in the homesickness and lonliness. This is hard. I have people who are supporting me, but physical presence is just so different, so much more meaningful. I'm going back to see Dan in Timisoara during the American Thanksgiving Day weekend, and my dad comes 100 days from tomorrow. Other than that, I really have no idea when I am going to BE WITH familiar people, and it just all hit yesterday.

And then today, everything was better. The sun was out, my classes were magical, and I found some more beauty in this city. Just when you think everything is going to fall apart...

Converts

Each class I have is populated with kids that are either chaotic troublemakers, innocent sweethearts, or normal. Tragically, the kids in the middle just blend in, because there are one or two troublemakers, and one or two sweethearts. When you have 21 classes to manage and over 600 names to learn, it makes it easier to concentrate first on those who make your life hell, and those who make it better again.

Like Star Wars in real life, these students seem to either be working for the Light or the Dark side, and this past week, I won a few converts.

The first is a second grade hellion named L~ who is way too smart and knows way too much English for what I need to cover with the rest of the class. I finally decided to employ one of the easiest tricks there is, and it worked like a charm. I now have a translator in Class 2A.

The second is a boy from 5B whose beautiful spirit was covered in such mischief that I couldn't see through the grime. I literally cried when I say him working diligently on the assignment, and I did cry as I told him how proud I was.

There is still M~ and M~ in 1A, D~ in 7A, every student but B~ in 6C, A~ in 1D, M~ and M~ in 1C, G~ in 5 C and many many others... but I won two converts last week and I am rather proud.

Timisoara

Having just returned to Bucharest after what may have been the best weekend I've ever experienced, I'm working on not being upset. I knew that I needed to get out of the city for a bit, see some other parts of Romania, and visit with a friend that has become (almost) insanely important to me. I had no idea HOW much I needed it, though.

My train ride on Friday was absurdly long and boring. I know that some of this was the time of day (we left at 3:45) and some of it was purely anticipation, but I thought I was going to die. The first few hours of the journey were spent sitting opposite someone who could have played in the NBA simply because of the length of his legs. I eventually snuck into first class for about 45 minutes and got found out, and went back to my own train car. However, I didn't go all the way back to my seat, but settled into an empty grouping of seats and tried to enjoy the rest of the journey. I had about a million things on my mind, none of which were particularly pleasant, and so when we pulled into the station only 10 minutes late, I was intensely relieved. Dan (I figured the D~ bit should be up after the last posting) was waiting for me there and we got a cab back to his flat. We dropped my stuff off and went to wander around the neighborhood, which turned into a walk to the city center- Piata Victoriei and Piata Unirii. My heart nearly stopped beating in my chest, as it was so constricted by all the happiness. The night was beautiful, I was with someone I love spending time with, and we were standing in the middle of the most beauty I've seen in 7 weeks.

The rest of the weekend was filled with a lot of walking, good food (Chinese, even!), beautiful parks, an Orthodox wedding, soft-serve ice cream, chatting, enjoying the automatic reader on Dan's iMac, a smoky bar called The Dungeon, a man named N~ and a friend of Dan's that I might never figure out, a revalatory walk and talk, a song called "Fost Odata," employing Google Translation services to discover some things about my neighbors, a massive shopping center, American football, a beautiful hour in Piata Victoriei, and a certain amount of sadness on my part when my train pulled away at 10:40 on Sunday night. It was truly a magical weekend.

The details aren't really too important. What I do know is this: I learned some things about myself this weekend, and some things about the nature of beauty.

1. It is both good and necessary to spend time with people you care about.
2. I'm becoming more mature in certain aspects of my life that have always been a struggle for me.
3. Even if you are living in a place without a lot of percievable, easy beauty... it is still important to look for it. I can't go that long without it again. I'll look for it in the faces of my students or the correspondence from the States or the way this city is trying to better itself. I'll search for the beauty, even if it seems to be hidden. Maybe the difficulty, the struggle, will make it even more meaningful.

All of that being said, I'm going back to Timisoara in a little over 5 weeks to celebrate Thanksgiving. It's not a holiday here but we figured there are some things we just shouldn't give up. Plus, I really did have an amazing time.

Thank You, Tom Stamman

This post is a result of the collective efforts of Daniel Carroll and Stephanie Sablich.

Sometimes life can change rather quickly. It’s dizzying, really.
It is 4:10 in the morning, and we are sitting in Dan’s apartment, reflecting on how exactly we got here; to this moment in time, this place in the world, the edge of this new universe. If we track it all the way back, it began when we both decided to go on the Romania/Hungary trip offered by Tri-S at Anderson University. Why did we choose to go? Stephanie wanted to go to Europe, and this particular trip was relatively inexpensive. Dan signed up because it was the last open trip being offered. God or fate or destiny or whatever else intervened, and history was made.

We are sitting in Dan’s apartment after a night of revelation. We made friends in Romania and kept in contact throughout the following year, and finally got together almost exactly a year later because Dan turned down a job in Indiana and was headed home. Stephanie was in Anderson because she really royally messed up her graduation and had to take another class. We began to reminisce about the trip we were on just a year before, and then Dan ended the night with “Have a nice life...” and we both thought that would be it. Little did we know...

Stephanie thought and thought and thought about what to do with her life, and apparently Dan was thinking the same thing. Stephanie researched and applied and accepted a job in Romania, and happened to mention it to Dan on Facebook. Dan responded, a few weeks later also accepted a job in Romania, and on August 30 we got on a plane and flew to Bucharest. Dan left three days later to head west to Timisoara. Six weeks passed, filled with new experiences and all kinds of people and really difficult classes and a good bit of questioning. Stephanie missed Dan and decided to visit him, and so got on a train, which led to a night that ended at a smoke-filled, crazy bar called the Dungeon... and a walk back to Dan’s apartment, and a collective blog post in the early hours of the morning. Life can change in just a few moments, with just a few decisions.

As u dr hrtr b. I sat here and started typing but I was looking at Stephanie and not the screen. That is why I typed As u dr hrtr b. I think I meant to type “As I sit here” but then my fingers decided to click the wrong keys. I was always the guy in keyboarding class that secretly looked at the keyboard when I was doing the typing tests. I was really good at the fff jjj fjf set but I really excelled at the lll ooo lol set, lol. I think my highest word per minute average was 210 or something. I suppose I should articulate my words into something that is half as coherent as what Stephanie said but she pretty much explained everything better than I could have so I will discuss something else. The moment where I sit and stress about what I should type is the moment where I should stop trying to write. Therefore, I will end this blog post by saying Noapte Buna.

Fire Drill

I've written before about my terror class, yes? The class that movies could be made about? My sixth grade monsters?

I teach twenty-one classes. Guess which one I was in this week when we had a fire drill? Just guess. What are the chances? If you answered 1 in 21, you would be correct. I had a less than 5% chance that the fire drill would happen during my class from hell. You know, when you have to get your kids in order and down from the third floor quickly and safely and out the door two by two, marching right past the principal? Yeah, that kind of fire drill. It was super.

Let me take it back.

Immediately before the class began, I spoke with the "form teacher" (a homeroom teacher of sorts) about the misbehavior of her class. I asked her to come in and speak to the students- I finally caved in and realized that I needed some backup. Friends, I am not joking when I tell you that she literally ran from the room about 2 minutes later with her hands over her ears and tears pouring from her eyes. Like a scene from a movie, she came in to start yelling at the students for me when a little loaf of bread came whizzing across the room and smacked her right in the face. Her head snapped backward and then she got really upset (who wouldn't?) but before she could even react, there was bread flying at her from all over the room. Seriously, I think she got smacked by about 12 loaves of bread and many many screams before she covered her ears, started crying, and ran. I was huddled in a corner behind the desk, vaguely traumatized and shaking with laughter. Hmm... okay. Fire drill.

This all strangely made me feel better- I'm kind of off the hook for the behavior of this class, as it were. We got back inside after the fire drill (what a clusterf**k that was) and I just didn't even attempt to teach. I wrote the assignment on the board, EXACTLY what I would have said if they had been able to hear over the sounds of death coming from their own mouths, and sat in the chair. It is terrible to say, but I have completely given up with this class. I'll still work with individual students, sure. But the odds are stacked against me here... and it isn't worth my sanity.

This is the part of the movie where I creep home and have a class of wine and sappy music plays as I collapse on the couch and decide that I will OVERCOME this challenge... so you think. But this movie has a surprise ending. I'll just keep working on the other 600 students in the 20 classes I teach.

An (AHA!) Moment

I might be the worst teacher ever.

My first class on Tuesday morning is a first grade group, 1A. This is at 7:45 in the morning, and usually a pretty interesting group. They are a lot of fun- not too quiet, but not awful either. I usually give them some time to settle in (kids here straggle in) and then start the lesson.

No one has an assigned seat or anything, because each classroom is used for three classes throughout the day. Every morning the students come in and just find a seat, which makes learning names just SUPER easy.

There is one child in this class named Mihai. As a side note, I have decided that students named Mihai (pronounced "me-hi") and Luca and Matei (pronounced "matt-ay") are some of my favorites... and biggest challenges. I have either a Mihai or a Luca or a Matei in every class , and most of them have both or more than one of each. In 1A, Mihai is a challenge. One of the cutest little ones you could ever hope to know, but OH MY WORD. This kid is so out of control- he is everywhere. EVERYWHERE. I have been amazed for four weeks at his ability to be in many places in the classroom at once. I try to get a handle on him, and he is gone again, across the room. He is a total sweetheart, but his abilities for escape and deiversion border on magical.

This morning, Mihai sat right next to his twin brother, Matei. That is right, friends. There are TWO of them. There have been two of them all along, just never sitting next to each other. I nearly collapsed. This certainly explains some things.

This is Not Easy

For years I've been a perfectionist, and surrounded myself with others who operate in the same way. Achieve more, do better, reach higher... we all did it. So it was normal, and complaining and failure were not allowed. "No, it really is no big deal to do every single reading assignment." "I thought 25 credit hours would be difficult, but it really isn't too bad." "I can't believe I got a 90 on that paper- I thought I worked so hard!"

I have struggled through these last few weeks here in Romania, telling myself (and everyone around me) that I'm doing well. Maybe I was trying to convince myself; I really don't know. But sometime over the weekend, I snapped.

There are so many things here that are good. My life is full and rich and beautiful. I have unbelievable people in my life, and an incredible system of support that extends around the world. But this, my friends, this is not easy. It is not easy to teach in a system I don't understand. It is not easy to plan each week for 6 different grade levels, and at least 2 language levels in each grade. It is not easy to sleep alone each night and feel as if my life is elsewhere. It is not easy to explore alone, day after day and week after week. It is not easy to spend too much time at the grocery store or to examine a map again and again, or to step into awkward situations because of language. It is not easy to budget money and eat pasta and rice night after night and feel overwhelmed.

This is not easy. And in admitting that, I find myself confident that everything will be alright.

In other news, I am taking my first trip outside of Bucharest on Friday. I will be taking a train to Timisoara to visit D~ for the weekend. I'm excited about seeing him, laughing, exploring more of Romania, and all the rest of what is to come. I'm a little nervous about meeting his colleague N~ because of stories and one past encounter, but life is all about adventures, right? I'll keep everyone posted.

Rebelz of 79

One of the projects I've recently started with my fifth, sixth, and seventh grade classes requires the development of a blog. I'm not sure exactly how to work this out, but what I would like to do is start a class blog of sorts that can be accessed by students and teachers in the States for potential collaboration purposes.

Right now, for the first assignments, we are working on making personal introduction letters. These would be among the first postings on the blog(s) for each of the classes.

I am thinking about doing the same thing with my eighth grade students, with the autobiographies they are doing. Except, it would be really amazing to do video recordings, if at all possible. We'll see.

Regardless, the point of this post is to discuss an email I just recieved from a student regarding the name of said blog... their suggestion is "Rebelz of 79." I told them we will have to vote on it in the next class, but I have a feeling I'm going to be rigging the election if necessary to make sure this is the winner. Yeah... I love my job.

Close Contact

I've written before about the way people in Romania can be rather oblivious to any sense of personal space.

Two such people live in my apartment building, and I am rather adept at running into them right as we are about to get on the elevator. Now, this lift is not exactly the most safe or secure thing in the whole world, and I consider how exactly I could die everytime I get on it. I'm not terribly worried while riding alone, but when my friends join me along with their grocery bags, things get a little worrisome.

My poor elevator took about (no joke) 74 seconds to reach floor four. I know this because I counted. I counted because I wanted to see exactly how long my male Romanian friend would be pressed up against me.

74 seconds of the most intimate action I've gotten in a LONG time...

Management

One of the things that I am struggling the most with is management, and it is incredibly frustrating because I felt like it was ONE thing I had mostly understood in the States. I got to the point where I could charm and entertain a group with ease, and manage a classroom filled with students with almost no problem.

I stood in my last class of the week, a group of fifth graders that either are about three levels behind the other fifth graders or just have some secret class plan to trick me. I stood at the front of the room and I realized that what I had been seriously upset and frustrated about the entire period just wasn't their fault.

There are many reasons that the crazy behavior of 5C is not their fault, but a primary one is the complete lack of respect for these children in regards to an educational environment. I thought that packing 32 students into my classroom last year was an insane task. We were often very crowded and I thought it amazing that my kids could get any learning done in the room.

My 5C class numbers 36, and they are literally packed into a white-washed room that is one-third the size of my last classroom. They are expected to learn without any sort of environment to support it- I literally have to have kids create an aisle to get in or out of the classroom. They are expected to stay quiet in a room that drives me crazy- I DREAD the two classes that I have in there each week. They are expected to remain focused in a place that is teeming with the beautiful energy of 10 year old students that should be allowed to be harnessed rather than squelched.

And this is just one example. The first graders are easy to manage- they just gaze up at my face as I sing and sing and sing and sometimes draw on the board and dance and sing some more. They smile and they are easily charmed. The older kids are easy(er) because they understand English at a higher level. But there are middle levels, a lot of them.

I miss being able to live out my ideals. My ideals about how school should be done, how students should be treated (according to development), how management should be handled. My ideals about myself as a teacher and the kind of classroom environment I want to foster.

At what point do I lay these down and teach with what I have... or is this a battle I should honestly just continue to fight?

Sick

I have this thing where I get sick. It happens with some regularity.

I either ate something bad, or simply got the stomach flu.

It really hit Monday night into the early hours of Tuesday morning. I made it through about 20 minutes of my first class on Tuesday and then quite literally hit the floor. Woke up to around 25 first graders staring at me, all gathered around. RIGHT in the middle of my "5 Little Ducks" bit too. Ruined that, I guess.

I spent the next two-ish days curled up around my own body, just kinda rocking back and forth. Interrupted by running to the bathroom with more than normal frequency. I had some lovely comfort in the middle of all of this though, and was helped to set a new personal record.

I'm a lot better now and perfectly able to drink liquids. I'm still a little bit afraid to eat.

We'll see where this goes.

And reading back through my post, I realize that the lack of food over the past few days has left me unable to write in a decent manner. Sorry.

Cold Feet

I really have nothing to say here at the moment.

So I will say this. My feet, right now, are cold.

Slippers, where are you?

"And He Shall Smite the Wicked"

I got beat by a gypsy today.

Maybe it was my shorts. Or the fact that I refused to buy one of her nasty yellow peppers. Or perhaps it was because I had to step about a foot closer to her to avoid getting run over on the sidewalk.

I passed her and felt a sting across the back of my legs almost immediately. I look back down behind me and there is an ancient woman brandishing a cane at me. She had no teeth and her lower jaw almost touched her nose as she scrunched up her face in disapproval. I look down farther and saw a red welt forming on both of my calf muscles.

And then I ran. To avoid the curses.

Grammar

I've discovered a love for writing in the last three or so months, and with this comes a love for (yes... here it comes) grammar. I don't really enjoy the specifics of everything, but I do love knowing that a sentence is well-constructed and organized in a way to just ooze meaning. (And yes to all the other grammar freaks out there... I do realize that sometimes I write poorly. Get your own blog.)

English teaching works quite well then, right? One of the things I worked on with my seventh and eighth grade classes this week was superlatives. For a nice and easy introduction, and to see how well they work in groups, I had them create a top-10 list. They were responsible for coming up with 10 tips on "Learning English" (seventh grade) or "Being a Good Friend" (eighth grade). A firm believer in the fact that I should never ask a student to do something I haven't done myself, I created a top-10 list for being a good teacher. I wrote them down and put them in order from least to greatest.

You had better keep reading, because there is an AMAZING story at the end of this posting, relating rather specifically to number 10 on the list.

1. Like your students.
2. Know the material.
3. Be prepared for class.
4. Stay flexible.
5. Be a fun person.
6. Show students you care.
7. Be creative.
8. Be a good listener.
9. Answer all questions.
10. Know how to laugh.

I was in class 5B yesterday, and we were hitting the adjectives pretty strongly. One of the activities towards the end of class was to make a sentence more interesting. Remember, these are 5th grade students, age 10.

The sentence was: "The dog jumped far."

"V~, would you like to read your sentence for number three to the class?"

"Yes, Teacher Stephanie. The fu**ing dog jumped far."

"WHAT?"

"The fu**ing dog jumped far. My brother speaks English and he says a lot and it describes dog."

(Pause as "Teacher Stephanie" turns toward the board and shakes with silent laughter for approximately 60 seconds. Because friends, he used the word correctly. Also, if you are so inclined, drop the f-bomb aloud with a Romanian accent. It'll blow your mind.)

"Well, friends. That really isn't a very nice word in English. So I don't want it in my classroom, okay?"

"But what it mean?"

And then I broke my own rule number nine.

Dripping

This morning I had to literally flop out of bed in order to wake up. I sleep on the futon in the apartment that folds lengthwise (read: hotdog style), so it just looks like a couch. I could pull it out at night- this would be relatively easy to do, but I honestly don't want to get lonely in a big bed all by myself. So, I snuggle up with the back of the couch every night and usually wake up rested and ready to start the day.

This morning was absolutely ridiculous. I had these mornings a lot last year, and I knew it would come eventually. I knew that there would come the time when I would have to pep-talk in the morning again. "Stephanie. You love your job. You will feel better after a shower. You love your job. Think of all those cute kids. You have GOT this. No worries. Only a few hours and then you can come home for a nap. Go. Go. Get in the shower. You can do this. You are loved. You are useful. You will be AWESOME." I think I went through this twice this morning, and then in my semi-stupor I literally hit the floor when I threw off the cover and rolled over. I'm only about 18 inches off the ground, but still. Banging my head on the leg of the desk chair didn't help any.

Feeling a bit more fresh but still a little traumatized from the rather harsh start to the morning, I proceeded to turn on my music and walk to school. I got to the bottom of the staircase and saw wet. Looking out the front doors of the building, I could see that the ground was covered in wet. Apparently it rained last night, and it was threatening to do so again. Running back up the stairs to get my umbrella, I finally made it out the door to head for school.

The only word I could think of the whole way was "dripping." Romania is just a drippy place, even when it hasn't just rained. There is dripping paint that has dried and dripping spirits in people and dripping ceilings and a dripping economy. (Yes, I'm aware that this doesn't make a HUGE amount of sense, but bear with me). And I was getting dripped on this morning for sure, both literally and figuratively.

I got to school and "turned on the silly" and started with the first class. About 10 minutes into the lesson, we were singing and dancing and clapping and bouncing and tapping our heads and wiggling our fingers. I looked over at Victor, a boy of unbelievable adorability (not a word, but let's run with it) and his eyes get wide and then he just sneezes. Everywhere. And as he literally spews gunk everywhere, he leaves a trail of DRIPPING snot hanging from his nose, almost touching his chest. I run to him with a kleenex, and nearly collapse on the floor with laughter. Because, friends, Romania is a drippy place.

And I've GOT this.

Scheduling

Today was a bit of an odd day. I went to school three separate times. The first was to look through materials a bit, with plans to return in the afternoon for my two classes.

So I returned to school at 2:30 for my 2:45 class, and I venture upstairs to the teacher's lounge. I want to get the register filled in before classes so that I can leave right away after I finish. I cannot seem to find my name recorded anywhere. 14:45- 7B... my name should be RIGHT there. Nope. Nowhere.

Friends, apparently it is perfectly okay and normal to change the schedule without ANYONE telling you. Hmm... alright. I guess I should just be happy that they didn't move my classes earlier.

So I now have my 6B and 7B classes on Monday evenings at 5:00 and 5:45. Hmm... alright.

On a side note, these guys were WONDERFUL. Sixth grade was a little chatty, but very managable. And 7th grade was a DREAM. I have a feeling that we are going to have a very very good year.

Fireworks

Tonight as I made dinner with my new cookware (please take a moment and sing the Hallelujah! chorus with me), I happened to look out the kitchen window when I thought I heard thunder. To my incredible surprise, I saw fireworks just to the north of my apartment. I just stood in wonder at the window, staring at the display that ran on for about five minutes.

Now, I have absolutely no idea why there were fireworks in Bucharest tonight. I have no idea where they were shot off from. But in a really tiny way, they were made for me tonight. I feel like my life has been a series of fireworks lately. Big and bold and beautiful and incredibly personal, in a sense.

I got to experience the fireworks involved in the first week of school. The crazy noise and the tiny sense of danger and the passion with which we begin the year.

I got to experience the fireworks involved in meeting someone new. The overwhelming beauty and the sense of something greater and the risk involved in every word and action.

My my heart is so completely filled with the fireworks of joy and new experiences and love. I am blessed beyond measure.

Food

One of the obstacles I am running into with surprising frequency is eating. I don't yet have pots or pans (absolutely on the to-do list for tomorrow), and so my meals consist of whatever I can kind of manage to put together from my groceries, or Romanian street food. I am pretty poor, so I eat at home as much as I can. Nearly all the time, actually. However, sometimes my peanut butter and cornflake sandwiches get a little boring and I want to venture out. It really doesn't cost TOO much money, either- street food here is pretty cheap.

In particular, I am discussing a delectible item called shawormas or kebabs. I cannot fully describe the goodness of this food, perhaps simply because it is not a peanut butter and cornflake sandwich. A pita with meat from a spit (I go with the pui, or chicken), with sauce and lettuce and cabbage and tomatos and onions and usually pickles. They are AMAZING.

And so, friends, I find myself at the kebab/shaworma stand with enough regularity that this happened yesterday as I walked up:

"Kebab small for Step-an-ie? Hey America! Chee-ca-go!"

(I was then cajoled into giving him my number for what I can assume is private English lessons... something I probably won't do on the off-chance that he was asking how much I rent my body out for hourly. In which case, I WAY undersold myself.)

Yeah, I need to get some pots and pans tomorrow.

Welp (2)...

Nevermind. You can go ahead and scratch what you read in the last post, if you did in fact read it at all.

I began this morning with three second grade classes. (If you remember from two posts ago... I was VERY nervous) First one was good, second mediocre, and third was awful. I don't know what it is exactly. It is always easiest to blame the situation, sure. But in this case, I'm going to fall back pretty heavily on that, not desiring to do any more reflection about my own flaws at this moment in time. Construction. Hunger. Very non-engaging classroom environments. Desks in stright rows. Overcrowding. No ability to move around. And THAT is all I'll say about second grade for the moment.

My eighth grade class was next. I almost cried with joy. They were smart and sweet and serious and engaging and just... WONDERFUL. I literally jumped up and down at the end of my lesson, and did a little happy dance. And they didn't stare at me, they laughed too. Beauty. This friends, was matched (even topped) by the next class of fifth grade students. WOW- two in a row!! Then another fifth grade room (I'd rate it "good" but not "amazing" like class number one). Following a break, I headed into the dreaded room of terror: 6A. Sixth grade, the insurmountable classroom level of doom.

And it was glorious.

I know there will be plenty more days like yesterday. But guys, on this busiest of days, I love my job.

Welp...

I hit the wall today. Two classes. Two classes in this entire day, and one of them was absolutely, unbelievably, ridiculously out of control.

Seventh grade was an absolute dream. I love love love loved it. My sixth grade class... I'm not sure I can do that again. I just withered away up there and kept smiling, but just crumbled to bits.

For the first time (okay, fine... not the very first time...) I wish I was teaching in the States. I almost said in a "normal classroom," but I am really working on shifting my view of what is normal. Regardless, I would understand rules and customs and traditions and be able to set up my own room and feel confident and develop a classroom atmosphere and see kids more than once a week.

That's all, I'm done complaining. Share your wisdom, please?

Lessons

Yesterday was rather anti-climatic in terms of teaching. In other ways it was incredibly exciting, sure- the 37 bouquets of flowers and feeling my heart fall out of my chest after being asked to speak in front of so many people. But as far as actual teaching goes, there was none of it. And so I said that I began my life as a teacher yesterday- but I didn't really.

That realization came last night. I had prepped an opening lesson for the little guys, having NO idea if they had any background with English, or the alphabet- and also, not knowing if they knew everything already. (In this sense, I miss the States. I miss knowing what is standard and normal and can be expected in each grade...) Regardless, I was laying in bed after talking to someone and it just HIT me.

I was happy and bright and fresh this morning when I arrived at school. I found the rooms for all of my classes and watched the little people swarm into the building with their parents. This is one thing that just crosses cultures the world over. The excitement and chaos of the school year, regardless of classroom set up or language or subject or age. I could stand in the office and know EXACTLY what was going on without speaking even a bit of the language. And I learned three things this morning.

1. First graders will always have the ability to caputre my heart. My first little bunch of the morning, and these kids were adorable. Like, totally beautiful and wonderful and simply fantastic. We started with introductions: "My name is Stephanie. What is your name?" "MY NAME IS ERVIN!" "Hi, Ervin!" "HI, STEPHANIE." (He is going to be one of my favorites, I can tell already. It was like the reverse of the stereotypical "speak loud and slow to someone who doesn't know the language" thing. Ervin speaks louder when he DOESN'T know the language, and it is utterly adorable.) Moving on, we did a lot of different alphabet activities, and I was really pleased that many of them had a grasp on the alphabet already. We sang the song and danced a dance (okay, a lot of dances!) and did a letter hunt and alphabet tracking to find letters... it was ridiculous how awesome it was. They responded well and I just turned ON the silly and we giggled and learned and it was beautiful. Skip ahead two classes and I'm in another first grade room. Same thing, friends. I walked away from the day feeling just wonderfully blessed to have the opportunity to teach SIX of these classes each week.

2. Second grade might be my downfall. I KNOW that it could have been just two crazy classes, but it was rough. It didn't help that these kids knew kind of a lot. I mean, I changed the activity up right away when I saw how much they knew. I guess I was just expecting to be able to charm them a whole lot better, but they weren't having it. Man, oh man... it was rough. I kept reminding myself that I would have had that classroom in SHAPE, if only I could speak the language. It just isn't as effective when you bend down low to a kid and get in their face and you can't just say "CUT IT OUT." However, I never got to the point where it just felt completely out of control, but they were talkers, for sure. I'm going to need to come up with a LOT for this age group- it will help when the textbooks arrive in like, you know, 3 months. The one highlight was during the introduction part of the third class (the second group of second graders)... one boy opened his mouth and in a perfect English accent said "I am Matt." My heart literally leaped in my chest, and I leaned in close and whispered to him "You are I are going to be very good friends." And no joke- he responded "You're going to need it." Sweet!

3. Teachers must supply their own toilet paper. I'll spare you all of the, ahem, details. Let me just say that there is a very lovely teacher's toilet on the first floor, which happened to be the location of my last class for the day. And I will also let you know this: something here in Romania (I suspect the water, because this is the only thing I consume on a regular basis) is having a bit of a battle with my digestive system. Thank goodness I brought a pack of kleenex in my bag this morning, but it really was too bad that I left it outside the stall.

I'll leave you, my friends, with THAT mental image.

First Day Reactions

For years I have been living for the first day of school. The anticipation, the excitement, the anxiety. Not knowing exactly what to expect but looking forward to the amazing potential the year holds.

I couldn't stop smiling this morning as I got ready in my apartment. I slept really well last night for the first time since arriving in Romania (aside from the jet lag sleep-off) and woke up with the sun shining in the window and the birds chirping and the beauty of the day just... surrounding me. I got ready really early, not needing to be at school until 2:00 in the afternoon. I sat on my futon and replied to some emails and tried to distract myself, finally just going to school to hang out at around 12:00.

Overwhelmed. That seems to be my new word lately. My "catch-phrase," if you will. Students everywhere. EVERYWHERE. An opening assembly of sorts and then kids running to different classrooms and smiling and laughing and pointing and giggling. I was introduced to everyone and then met with a few different classrooms, finally making my way to the staff room to get my timetable. Whoa, buddy. This is so different. So new. So... wonderful. I got 37 bouquets of flowers today. Ooh, man. I would gladly take a salary cut in the US for 37 bouquets of flowers from students who don't even know me. I feel unbelievably appreciated. (And it took me three trips to get home with all of them)

Here is my schedule:

Monday
2:45- 7B
3:30- 6B

Tuesday
7:45- 1A
8:30- 2C
9:15- 2B
10:00- 1B

Wednesday
5:00- 7A
5:45- 6C

Thursday
8:30- 2E
9:15- 2A
10:00- 2D
10:55- 8A
11:40- 5A
12:25- 5B
1:55- 6A

Friday
7:45- 1C
8:30- 1D
9:15- 1F
10:00- 1E
10:55- 8B
11:40- 5C

No wonder Romanian teachers get paid so little. We BARELY work. There are no requirements to be at school for any longer than these hours, seriously. It is a lot like university, actually. I'm going to need to find something extra to do with my time, because even planning for 12 different levels each week will not fill up the empty spaces. Travel? Volunteering? Exploration? Extra-curricular clubs? Sure things, all.

Delicate

Every once in a while, the delicate and fragile nature of life strikes me.

During part of my time in Chicago, I had the adventure/pleasure of living with seven other people in one apartment. We shared a five bedroom, three bathroom apartment in a great location in Hyde Park, and it was certainly a journey. I was touched in many ways by each of my roommates, and walked away from the experience with friends I consider dear.

One of my roommates was a man named K~ who was, in the best of ways, an incredible amount of fun. He taught me about letting go and putting stress away and having fun. We had a great semester of talking sports and watching television and learning how to consume drink.

K~ was admitted to the hospital on Wednesday after being diagnosed with a brain tumor. He had surgery that evening. Apparently things are looking good (it was not cancerous, etc...) but still ridiculously frightening.

How precious, and precarious, our place on this earth is. Sometimes I just need a reminder to live every moment with the aim of finding grace and creating love and making peace.