(Note: I am traveling for the next few days, but please stay tuned for pictures of Paris!)
Teaching classic children’s stories to my students has been a lot of fun, but there are some challenges. Some of the vocabulary is kind of story specific. I mean, a non-native English speaker can survive without knowing the word “porridge,” although it’s awfully important to Goldilocks when she gobbles down Baby Bear’s breakfast.
Recently I’ve been reading Little Red Riding Hood to my primary students, or “Piroska” in Hungarian. I now appreciate what a mouthful Little Red Riding Hood is to say.
First, I showed them a picture of a hood.
Then, I showed a cloak (which some of my boys know from a computer game) because the word is used in the story.
We kind of skipped over the riding part. I mean, she did not ride a horse to grandma’s house. If she had, maybe she wouldn’t have stopped to talk to the wolf, and the wolf wouldn’t have eaten her and grandma.
This is how the lesson went:
Me: Say “Little Red Riding Hood.”
Students: “H-ooooooooooo-d.” (They draw out all their double-o’s like in “moo” or “boo.”)
Me: (pointing to Red’s picture) “Who is she?”
Me: Good. (*mentally banging my head against a wall*) But in English, she’s Little Red Riding Hood.
Student: But what is her name?
Me: Little Red Riding Hood IS her name.
(Maybe I should have just said that it’s Sarah.)
We then spent a few minutes pronouncing hood, woods, book, and look.
After I read the story, the students had to write a few sentences using their vocabulary words.
One fourth grade boy’s sentence: The woodsman is sexy.
Not what I expected from a nine-year-old, but at least it was grammatically correct.
The fifth graders decided today that Little Red Riding Hood would invite Justin Bieber to her birthday party. They would do karate and eat wolf meat and wolf cake. She would get a wolf fur cloak as a present. Evidently Red carries a grudge.
And, of course, they would listen to LMFAO’s “I’m Sexy and I Know It.” (If you don’t know this song, be thankful.)
Jesse and I have been longing to go to Romania for months. What looks deceptively close on the map, however, is in reality a huge trek. Getting to the heart of Dracula’s territory would’ve taken at least twelve hours by train. Instead, this weekend we went to Oradea, a city that is just across the Hungarian border.
According to The Debrecen Sun, there hasn’t been a direct railroad line between Debrecen and Oradea since WWI. (Prior to The Treaty of Trianon, Oradea/Nagyvárad belonged to Hungary. It was briefly part of Hungary once again during WWII.)
Logistically, this meant that we had to travel southwest from Debrecen to the tiny town of Püspökladány, change trains, and then head back east.
Although Oradea has some interesting sights, it is not a big tourist destination, and this was fine with us. We spent the weekend walking around the town, enjoying the architecture and the sunny skies.
The main attraction of the city is the Citadel. Oradea gained importance when it became the seat of a Catholic bishopric in the 11th century, and a fortress and Gothic cathedral was built soon after. The cathedral is long gone, and most of the citadel that remains today was designed by an Italian architect and constructed at the end of the 16th century.
The building that will remain most clearly in my memory is the decrepit, abandoned synagogue down the street from our hotel. Seeing the broken windows and overgrown trees sent a shiver up my spine. It is a reminder of the Holocaust, sitting forgotten in plain sight. According to the Oradea Jewish Community website, approximately 1/3 of Oradea’s population was Jewish before WWII. Only a few hundred Jews remain today.
During WWII, the Jewish men were forced into slave labor for the Hungarian army. In 1944 the remaining men, women, and children were deported to Auschwitz-Birkenau.
The beautiful if dilapidated synagogues in Oradea chilled me. While we walked around a fascinating city, the empty buildings were quiet reminders of the absence of thousands of Oradea’s citizens.
One of the most interesting parts of traveling is stumbling across groups of locals gathered for some purpose that is not immediately clear. This has happened to us a lot in Hungary, and it happened in Oradea. While looking for the citadel, we came across a large number of people clustered in front of an ugly building. After spending a few minutes trying to decipher the banner, we decided that it was a Roma political party meeting. Google Translate tells me it means something about turning the wheels of fortune.
Because there weren’t many touristy things to do, I couldn’t resist posing with this cow in front of the Lactobar, the most “American” restaurant I’ve encountered in Europe.
Oradea is certainly an interesting mixture of old and new!
We only traveled 12 km beyond the Hungarian border, but we encountered a new language, a new currency, and we got a new stamp in our passports.
I have now visited Canada, India, Hungary, Slovakia, Austria, Italy, and Romania. Next up: France!
On Wednesday, two worlds collided: my high school students visited my elementary classroom for story time.
As a special project, my ninth graders worked in groups to translate a children’s story from Hungarian into English. They then illustrated their story. I promised them that they would get to read their stories to primary students, and thankfully my colleagues at both schools helped make this happen.
The result was great. I was really proud of my high school students. They used their English to communicate a story to children, applying their language skills to real life. I know how self-conscious teenagers are, and I know how hard it can be to speak in front of groups– even (or especially) small children. They did a great job.
The first, second, and third graders listened in awe of the “big kids.” I am so amazed at how much English they understand after just a few years of studying, and I hope seeing the high school students speak English inspired them to keep working.
The expression on this boys face really says it all. He absolutely loves stories, and his third grade class got to hear them two periods in a row. When he sat down for the second lesson, he said, “Kössönünk!” (We thank you!) And he really meant it.
When I signed up to each in Hungary, I requested to be placed in a high school. I didn’t find out until a few days before school started that I was teaching in a high school, a primary school, and a kindergarten. At the time this surprise frustrated me, but sometimes it’s best not to get what you ask for. Working with all ages has been very rewarding, and the Story Time project is a memory of teaching in Hungary that I will always treasure.
Three years ago, Jesse and I got married. We wanted to go to Europe on our honeymoon, to a romantic destination that was less expensive and less cliché than Paris. We decided on Budapest . . .
. . . but we never bought plane tickets. We thought of a million practical reasons why we shouldn’t go to Europe that summer, and we were filled with quite a bit of anxiety about moving to Michigan, Jesse starting grad school, and me finding a job.
In the end, our honeymoon was a spur-of-the-moment camping trip on the beach in the state of Delaware. We had a great time. I will always remember watching dolphins leaping in the waves while the sun rose over the Atlantic ocean.
Yet I did have a lesson to learn about not waiting to do things that I am really passionate about. There will never be enough money or enough time. There will always be a really good reason to not take a risk. Sometimes you should do things anyways. (You wouldn’t think I have a problem with being overly cautious, given that Jesse and I got engaged after dating for only three months and married three months after that.)
But this year we spent our anniversary in Budapest. The same excuse of not having enough money would have applied–but I want to get the most out of Europe before I go home, even if this means we are reduced to eating raman noodles when we move to back to the States.
So, we took the train to the capital on Saturday morning. We went to the Museum of Applied Arts and got in for free with our teacher cards. The special exhibit was on Hungarian Art Deco, which seems as unique as Czech Cubism. I love how Hungarian Deco was inspired by traditional folk designs.
The building that houses the museum is as amazing as any of the furniture it contains.
That evening, we took a cruise on the Danube. Unfortunately, the sun sets so late now that we didn’t really get to see the city lit up at night. But in the last five minutes of the cruise, the Chain Bridge was illuminated.
On Sunday, we went to the Hungarian National Museum. Once again we got free admission with our teacher cards! Jesse and I were in history geek heaven looking at medieval tomb stones and paleolithic artifacts. Too soon we had to catch the train back to Debrecen.
I guess we were right to choose Budapest as our honeymoon destination. It is a city we could visit over and over again.
Jesse’s birthday was on May 5th, and our friend Eszter invited us home with her for the weekend. It was great to spend time with her family and to see a new part of Hungary. Living on the Great Plain, we forget that Hungary does in fact have hills. The landscape reminded me of central and southern Ohio.
On Saturday, we took a narrow gauge (tourist) train from Miskolc to Lillafüred. The open-air ride into the hills was chilly but a lot of fun. In Lillafüred we took a tour of Saint István cave. We caught some glimpses of bats flitting around the stalactites and stalagmites.
We took the train back down the hill and headed to Diósgyőr Castle. It was a favorite hunting castle of King Louis the Great of Hungary in the fourteenth century, and a favorite spot of the queens of Hungary for several centuries until the area came under Turkish rule.
In the afternoon, we went back to Eszter’s family’s flat for lunch and birthday cake. Eszter’s mom is an excellent baker. The cake reminded us of our wedding cake. From the expression on Jesse’s face, you can tell that he was pretty excited to dig in.
In the evening, we strolled around Miskolc’s city center. It was really charming. I was fascinated by a gate with hundreds of lovers’ padlocks. We wondered how many of the couples are still together.
On Sunday, we went to Miskolctapolca, a spa town with a cave bath. We didn’t have time to take a dip in the cave bath, but we strolled around the lake and enjoyed the adorable ducklings.
On the way back to Debrecen, we stopped at Eszter’s family’s cottage, tucked away on a hill.
Jesse kept his eyes out for squirrels, but they were elusive. This one looks like he was ready for a showdown, but he dashed into the grass as soon as Jesse snapped his picture. Hungarian squirrels have hilarious pointy ears.
Such a splendid weekend involving a cave, a castle, and a birthday cake is hard to top!
Last Friday my school had its graduation ceremony. In the days leading up to the ceremony, the graduates came to school in strange costumes, sprayed water on the underclassmen, gave presents to their teachers, and sang songs for their teachers. Although they were a little rowdy, these activities didn’t distract too much from the lessons.
(At least there are no senior pranks: Jesse says that his graduating class filled the hallways of the school with chickens. My class was too scared by the principal to do anything. He said that if we pulled a prank or had a senior skip day that we would have to take final exams, which no one wanted to do.)
As I’ve mentioned before, the bilingual program at my school is five years long. So there were three graduating classes of 12th graders and one graduating class of 13th graders. My 13th graders were pretty resistant to my lessons throughout the year, but I must say that things improved in recent weeks. I think they felt like a 5th year of high school was torture, and at last they could see the light at the end of the tunnel.
At some schools, students sing to their teachers during the school day. Others go to their teachers homes in the evening. Last week we were at home when we heard shouting and the clomping of horses hooves. Two horsedrawn wagons parked outside of the neighboring apartment building. About thirty teenagers spilled out of the wagons and
sang screamed a song for one of their teachers. Then the teacher invited them upstairs for a snack.
I think it is nice that there is an official way to express gratitude to teachers here. In the U.S., individual students might give presents or write a letter to their favorite teachers, but there is no organized ritual.
On the day of the commencement ceremony, rain threatened. While the rest of the sky was blue and sunny, one single rain cloud unleashed five minutes of rain on the school yard immediately before the ceremony started. The rest of the time I was nearly blinded by the sun.
When I think of high school graduations, I think of mortar boards, stupid robes, students’ names being called, diplomas presented with a handshake, and the same twenty measures of Elgar’s Pomp and Circumstance being looped over and over again. The Hungarian ceremony has none of these, and yet it still felt familiar.
There were songs, speeches, and awards. And it was boring, which is probably an international requirement for commencement ceremonies. This one was particularly challenging for me since I only understood every tenth word of Hungarian.
Graduation always entails a mixture of excitement and fear. In this shaky global economy, there is quite a bit of fear. If financing a university education and finding a job is a concern for students in the U.S., it is an even bigger concern in Hungary. Hopefully my students’ fifth year of high school will pay off and their English skills will open doors for them. I wish them all the best.
On our last day in Prague, we went to the castle. It was crowded and expensive, but I saw some things that made it worth it.
Inside St. Vitus’s Cathedral was a magnificent stained glass window designed by Mucha. I had never seen Art Nouveau stained glass in a Gothic cathedral before. Pretty cool.
Inside the Old Royal Palace was the window from which the Second Defenestration of Prague occurred.
“Defenestrate” means to “throw a person or thing out of a window.” I think it’s funny that such a word even exists, let alone that it is in the name of not one but two historical events. In 1618, a group of Protestants got really angry at some Catholic officials and threw three of them out of the palace window. Surprisingly, the men survived, but this action started the Thirty Years War. Don’t ask me anything else about the war (except how long it was).
The Royal Gardens were a tranquil refuge after the intensity of the Castle. We spent quite a bit of time relaxing in the shade.
Prague has a lot of green space, so after lunch, we visited the Wallenstein Gardens and Palace. Designed in the seventeenth-century by a wealthy nobleman, they are presently occupied by the Czech Senate. I took far too many photos of the peacock family that roamed the gardens, but they were a great source of free entertainment.
We finished our day by walking across Charles Bridge.
My advice? If you get the chance, Go. To. Prague.
On our second day in Prague, we visited the Botanical Gardens. The gardens are next to the zoo and overlook a seventeenth-century palace. We enjoyed the beautiful spring day and although there were some fellow tourists wandering about, there were also a good number of local families. We even saw a woman eating ice cream while walking a cat on a leash.
After exploring the botanical gardens, we went back to our hotel for a nap. In the evening we found a delicious Indian restaurant in the city center. After dinner we watched the sun set over the Vltava River. Prague is just as beautiful by night as it is in the daytime.
On our way to dinner we had a bizarre experience. We saw a bunch of smoke rising from a side street and spotted riot police standing on a bridge. We thought maybe there was some sort of protest, but despite the smoke and the ominous figures on the bridge the crowd seemed mysteriously calm.
When we walked by again after dinner, we saw microphones and a camera crew. The “riot police” were in fact extras in a movie that was being filmed!
It just goes to show that in Prague there is a surprise waiting around every corner.
As my dedicated readers know, I am a museum addict.
One of the museums that I knew I wanted to visit in Prague was the Museum of Czech Cubism, which is located in the House of the Black Madonna. I must say, I was hoping for something a little more exotic than this building:
The cubist architecture in Prague is unique. Before WWI, nationalist Czech artists wanted to create pieces that were distinctly Czech. So it has an interesting historical legacy. However, applying the cubist style to a building is challenging. I thought some of the geometric shapes were interesting, but overall I wasn’t impressed. I much prefer the art deco style that came after WWI.
The building that I really fell in love with is Frank Gehry and Vlado Milunić’s Dancing House. Adding modern architecture to any European city is always controversial, but I think the Dancing House compliments its surroundings.
It was built on an empty lot that had been bombed in WWII (like I said, only about two bombs landed on Prague). The lot was also next door to President Václav Havel’s house. He was both a poet and a politician, and he supported the project, which was inspired by the dancing duo Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers.
Gehry is most famous for his Guggenheim Bilbao in Spain, which I haven’t visited, but I’ve seen his building on the Case Western campus in Cleveland and his pavilion at Millennium Park in Chicago. His style is very distinct, and is always interesting to look at–if you’re not blinded by the sun reflecting off his shiny metal surfaces.
I am never content with just one museum, so we also went to the Alfons Mucha museum. Mucha’s poster for Sarah Bernhardt’s “Gismonda” launched both his career and the Art Nouveau movement. I love the way curves, plants, and flowers are incorporated into his motifs. Art Nouveau was less about painting and more about applied arts: posters, textiles, buildings, and even mass-produced products.
Like the cubists, Mucha was a Czech nationalist. In the 1930s, he ran afoul of the Nazis and contracted pneumonia while being held for interrogation by the Gestapo. He died in 1939.
After seeing cubist paintings and Mucha’s posters, we couldn’t resist a little more art. The Municipal House had an exhibit called Tauromaquia, which included bullfighting paintings and sketches by Picasso, Dalí, and Goya. Although I am opposed to bullfighting, I really enjoyed seeing the same theme depicted by radically different artists. They also had a full-size cartoon sketch for Picasso’s Guernica.
With just a few brushstrokes, Picasso captured the violent energy of bullfighting:
Ironically, after seeing the Fred and Ginger building, my feet were too tired to walk, let alone dance. We took the tram back to our hotel, heads spinning with all the beautiful sites we’d seen.