A paper that a student handed in today has brought a smile to my face every time I remember it. The assignment was to have a conversation with five people from five different countries and then write about those conversations and what was learned.
The student wrote that she speak with a person from Britain, Czech Republic, Serbia, a country I cannot remember, and Usa (pronounced "oo-sa"). Over the summer, my parents and I decided we were going to try to learn as many different countries in the world. All I could say is that it's not in Europe. Remembering back to our studies, I could not think of a country named "Usa." On the paper, beside Usa, I wrote, "Where is this country?"
In the paper, the student writes that the person she interviewed from Usa is from North Carolina.
My first thought was: "Oh, Usa must be a little town in North Carolina."
"Is that near Raleigh?" I was tempted to ask.
Remember what two and two equals, I realized the mistake: Usa was America.
Now I begin to wonder: who make the greater mistake - the student or me? The student did not capitalize all of the letters to USA and I assumed that the student would not make such a simple mistake.
I have now decided to I might start calling America "Usa" from now on. Perhaps it will help me remember that we all make the silliest mistakes at times.
Thank you to everyone in Usa who is reading my blog.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Some Things Are Just Hard to Explain
Words strain,
Crack and sometimes break, under the burden,
Under the tension, slip, slide, perish,
Decay with imprecision, will not stay in place,
Will not stay still (from T.S. Eliot “Burnt Norton”).
The residents of Bratislava must find it strange to observe a bearded man wearing a “There’s A Little Hero in Us All” hat and a Luther College sweatshirt running through their quiet neighborhood where no one runs.
This reminds me of my glorious days running Cross Country at J.W. Sexton High School and the neighborhood kids who used to ask, “What are you running for?” Our favorite response was, “The police (pronounced “pole-eece” like “fleece”).” The response was anywhere from, “Oh, shoot” to hearing nothing but seeing scared faces. Running from the cops seemed to be the only appropriate answer in a neighborhood where the only reason to run was that you just stole something. Explaining the sport “Cross Country” never worked. They always thought we would run 50-100 miles. Some things are just hard to explain.
Without a car or any other measuring device, I have no ability to track my distance, so my only way to track myself is by time. Before running, I put a particular number of songs, usually taking up 45 minutes to an hour, onto my mp3 player. Then I leave the apartment, turn on the music, and run until the music stops. Sometimes when I am running, the music runs out and I want to go a little farther. When that happens, I quickly put a few more songs on the mp3 player.
Usually, I run up a seemingly never-ending hilly street near my apartment and make my way back and forth up the hill before returning down the hill through side streets. I run up a street that looks enticing, then down that street. I see a street that I have never been down before and take that street. I see an elderly woman walking toward me, I turn around and run in the opposite direction before I can get the “why are you running?” look. I see a beautiful view of the reconstruction of the castle and then I leave the view. Remembering it and thinking five years is a long time to close a castle, I return to the view. I might run down a particular street three or four times in a span of ten minutes.
Usually near the beginning of my run, I make my way down one street that leads to a long flight of stairs. I run up these stairs like Rocky Balboa and, when I reach the top, instead of triumphantly throwing my arms into the air, I sigh and begin what would be a 20-minute mile until I feel like I will no longer die. Sometimes I say to myself, “Let’s do that again” and I take the windy road back to the bottom and find the stairs again. Twice is always enough.
“I just don’t understand why Americans run,” a Slovak friend said today. “It is bad for the knees and the hips.”
“If knee problems is that worst that can happen, the worst looks appealing,” I think.
“Running brings me some kind of peace,” I attempted to explain. I felt unsatisfied with my response and I imagine my friend did as well.
If I was to answer again, I would like to say, “One day, I will be lying in a hospital bed with a feeding tube putting the necessaries into my body and a catheter removing the unnecessaries. One day.” Some things are just hard to explain.
Why do we run? Perhaps merely to see how far we can go. Everything, including getting out of this chair, has positives and negatives and we cannot escape the inevitable. Positives – I will be able to stretch my legs and relieve myself. Negatives – I might lose my train of thought. The inevitable – the feeding tube and the catheter.
A month ago today I received an e-mail inviting me to return to Bratislava for another year. Today, I must give my reply.
My contract is a one-year contract, renewable upon the desire of both parties. Originally, I had intended to stay in Slovakia for two years, thinking that if I invest one year in a place that I might as well invest two. I no longer think of staying as an investment but something that I desire to do and something that I think I could do well.
Most coincidentally, my class discussed Robert Frost’s poem “The Road Not Taken” this Friday. How strange that I would be noting my intention upon which road I would travel this weekend? Some things are just hard to explain.
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back (from: Robert Frost “The Road Not Taken”)
When I am running, I often take a particular road and this road leads to another road that looks like it needs someone running on it and so on and so on. “Way leads on to way” and, before, we know it, we are somewhere else. Not three years ago, I was training for the Indianapolis Mini-Marathon on the simple, flat streets of Columbus. Somehow, after taking a right on Mound Street, adding another kilometer to my run, instead of turning around, brought me to a street overlooking a city already an adult for hundreds of years while Columbus wasn’t even in diapers.
We might blame this road on Stony Lake Lutheran Camp to which I gave four of my “best” summers and a certain Filipino who taught me that it is possible to love two places on opposite ends of the earth at once and, anywhere you go, you are going to miss someone. We might blame this road on going away from home for college and looking at the world as more than 3320 Inverary Dr. We could obviously blame this road on my parents who I can never remember telling me to be back by midnight.
Though I create my playlist for a certain period of time, sometimes I want to run longer and I add more songs. Yet, I know that eventually I will become too tired to run. But, I am not so tired today. I could run up the seven-minute hill once more. I could convince the gardener who watches me run the stairs twice that I am a bit crazy. I could take in one more view of the red-rooftops of the city. A few more songs on the mp3 player will do.
Nothing can replace knowing that there is an empty chair beside the window at the dinner table for family dinners or an empty pew for the weddings of good friends or countless empty (“Dan-free”) hours that my friends and family spend doing many activities that I absolutely love.
Though we see little of each other, I think about my friends and family often. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t look at a plate of noodles and poppy seed at lunch and wonder what my family would say about it (For the record: Diane would probably stiffen her lip at the sound of the meal. David would probably remark about it sounding disgusting. Ma would probably be nice about eating it and then say she didn’t like it later. Pops would probably enthusiastically eat it because “you got to do what the people do here”). A day doesn’t go by that I don’t hear “Country Roads”, “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing”, or “End of the World” and wish any one of my great friends would emphatically sing it with me. Some things are just hard to explain.
What if I had turned around instead of turning right onto Mound Street? What if I had stopped running after the second mile in Indy three years ago when I could have sworn my knee was going to snap? What if I didn’t cut off my locks of love (and the beard) two days later? What if I went to graduate school after Capital? What if I went home in July and got a teacher’s certificate and planted myself back in America? What if I stayed here another year?
What might have been is an abstraction
Remaining a perpetual possibility
Only in a world of speculation (From T.S. Eliot “Burnt Norton”).
Some things are just hard to explain.
Crack and sometimes break, under the burden,
Under the tension, slip, slide, perish,
Decay with imprecision, will not stay in place,
Will not stay still (from T.S. Eliot “Burnt Norton”).
The residents of Bratislava must find it strange to observe a bearded man wearing a “There’s A Little Hero in Us All” hat and a Luther College sweatshirt running through their quiet neighborhood where no one runs.
This reminds me of my glorious days running Cross Country at J.W. Sexton High School and the neighborhood kids who used to ask, “What are you running for?” Our favorite response was, “The police (pronounced “pole-eece” like “fleece”).” The response was anywhere from, “Oh, shoot” to hearing nothing but seeing scared faces. Running from the cops seemed to be the only appropriate answer in a neighborhood where the only reason to run was that you just stole something. Explaining the sport “Cross Country” never worked. They always thought we would run 50-100 miles. Some things are just hard to explain.
Without a car or any other measuring device, I have no ability to track my distance, so my only way to track myself is by time. Before running, I put a particular number of songs, usually taking up 45 minutes to an hour, onto my mp3 player. Then I leave the apartment, turn on the music, and run until the music stops. Sometimes when I am running, the music runs out and I want to go a little farther. When that happens, I quickly put a few more songs on the mp3 player.
Usually, I run up a seemingly never-ending hilly street near my apartment and make my way back and forth up the hill before returning down the hill through side streets. I run up a street that looks enticing, then down that street. I see a street that I have never been down before and take that street. I see an elderly woman walking toward me, I turn around and run in the opposite direction before I can get the “why are you running?” look. I see a beautiful view of the reconstruction of the castle and then I leave the view. Remembering it and thinking five years is a long time to close a castle, I return to the view. I might run down a particular street three or four times in a span of ten minutes.
Usually near the beginning of my run, I make my way down one street that leads to a long flight of stairs. I run up these stairs like Rocky Balboa and, when I reach the top, instead of triumphantly throwing my arms into the air, I sigh and begin what would be a 20-minute mile until I feel like I will no longer die. Sometimes I say to myself, “Let’s do that again” and I take the windy road back to the bottom and find the stairs again. Twice is always enough.
“I just don’t understand why Americans run,” a Slovak friend said today. “It is bad for the knees and the hips.”
“If knee problems is that worst that can happen, the worst looks appealing,” I think.
“Running brings me some kind of peace,” I attempted to explain. I felt unsatisfied with my response and I imagine my friend did as well.
If I was to answer again, I would like to say, “One day, I will be lying in a hospital bed with a feeding tube putting the necessaries into my body and a catheter removing the unnecessaries. One day.” Some things are just hard to explain.
Why do we run? Perhaps merely to see how far we can go. Everything, including getting out of this chair, has positives and negatives and we cannot escape the inevitable. Positives – I will be able to stretch my legs and relieve myself. Negatives – I might lose my train of thought. The inevitable – the feeding tube and the catheter.
A month ago today I received an e-mail inviting me to return to Bratislava for another year. Today, I must give my reply.
My contract is a one-year contract, renewable upon the desire of both parties. Originally, I had intended to stay in Slovakia for two years, thinking that if I invest one year in a place that I might as well invest two. I no longer think of staying as an investment but something that I desire to do and something that I think I could do well.
Most coincidentally, my class discussed Robert Frost’s poem “The Road Not Taken” this Friday. How strange that I would be noting my intention upon which road I would travel this weekend? Some things are just hard to explain.
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back (from: Robert Frost “The Road Not Taken”)
When I am running, I often take a particular road and this road leads to another road that looks like it needs someone running on it and so on and so on. “Way leads on to way” and, before, we know it, we are somewhere else. Not three years ago, I was training for the Indianapolis Mini-Marathon on the simple, flat streets of Columbus. Somehow, after taking a right on Mound Street, adding another kilometer to my run, instead of turning around, brought me to a street overlooking a city already an adult for hundreds of years while Columbus wasn’t even in diapers.
We might blame this road on Stony Lake Lutheran Camp to which I gave four of my “best” summers and a certain Filipino who taught me that it is possible to love two places on opposite ends of the earth at once and, anywhere you go, you are going to miss someone. We might blame this road on going away from home for college and looking at the world as more than 3320 Inverary Dr. We could obviously blame this road on my parents who I can never remember telling me to be back by midnight.
Though I create my playlist for a certain period of time, sometimes I want to run longer and I add more songs. Yet, I know that eventually I will become too tired to run. But, I am not so tired today. I could run up the seven-minute hill once more. I could convince the gardener who watches me run the stairs twice that I am a bit crazy. I could take in one more view of the red-rooftops of the city. A few more songs on the mp3 player will do.
Nothing can replace knowing that there is an empty chair beside the window at the dinner table for family dinners or an empty pew for the weddings of good friends or countless empty (“Dan-free”) hours that my friends and family spend doing many activities that I absolutely love.
Though we see little of each other, I think about my friends and family often. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t look at a plate of noodles and poppy seed at lunch and wonder what my family would say about it (For the record: Diane would probably stiffen her lip at the sound of the meal. David would probably remark about it sounding disgusting. Ma would probably be nice about eating it and then say she didn’t like it later. Pops would probably enthusiastically eat it because “you got to do what the people do here”). A day doesn’t go by that I don’t hear “Country Roads”, “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing”, or “End of the World” and wish any one of my great friends would emphatically sing it with me. Some things are just hard to explain.
What if I had turned around instead of turning right onto Mound Street? What if I had stopped running after the second mile in Indy three years ago when I could have sworn my knee was going to snap? What if I didn’t cut off my locks of love (and the beard) two days later? What if I went to graduate school after Capital? What if I went home in July and got a teacher’s certificate and planted myself back in America? What if I stayed here another year?
What might have been is an abstraction
Remaining a perpetual possibility
Only in a world of speculation (From T.S. Eliot “Burnt Norton”).
Some things are just hard to explain.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Greece
Saturday, February 14 - Thessaloniki, Greece
In December, eleven of us bought tickets to fly from Vienna to Thessaloniki and then tickets from Athens to Vienna.
As this day was Valentine's Day, the airline we were flying on, SkyEurope, had a special promotion: come with the person you love to the ticket counter and show your love with a kiss and receive a free ticket. As three of us were about to go through security, we asked someone if we could receive a voucher for a future trip. We were told that this is possible. So there were three of us: two boys and one girl. One of us needed to find another girl to pretend to be in love with one of the guys. So the other guy, Allan, called over the nearest girl he could find and we tried to explain the situation to her. She was a Spanish girl named Karen. I realized that if I was going to get a free plane ticket, it would be me who would have to kiss her. She didn't seem to understand, or at least seemed highly skeptical. So we went to the ticket office and said we wanted to show our love to receive a free ticket. The lady at the counter just gave us a piece of paper to fill out and, thankfully, I did not have to kiss a complete stranger. A few days later, I received an e-mail that gave me a promotion code for a free plane ticket.
Though there were eleven of us together, we each had different plans, some of which overlapped. I was going to be traveling with my friend Amy and we were going to try a project called "Couch Surfing." This is a website on the Internet in which people offer to host others in their apartments and houses. After arriving in Thessaloniki, we had trouble getting from the airport to the center of the city (In Greece, I found that information is poor for public transportation). So, we were supposed to meet our host at a certain time in front of a monument, but Amy did not quite know exactly what he looked like but knew his name. Then a car pulled up out of nowhere, and I jokingly said, "Looks like we're getting picked up." She laughed, but then two guys got out of the car and approached us and began to ask where we were from. We both figured these were our hosts, so Amy said, "Are you here for us?" We received a blank look and a quick end to the conversation. Eventually we found our host, Jairo, a Nicarguan who studies in Greece. He was a very gracious host, letting us stay in an extra room in his apartment. He showed us around the city and took us to a nice restaurant.
Sunday, February 15 - Thessaloniki
Amy and I walked around Thessaloniki, seeing some of the sites, the Church of Demitrius and the White Tower. Then I met with some other people and went to an archaelogical musuem. It wasn't too great though. We learned here that nearly everything closes at 3 p.m. Public officials only work from 7 a.m. to 3 p.m.
In the evening, we found a nice restaurant that had some live music and one of the members from our group asked the musicians if we could sing a song for them. Everyone in the restaurant loved the song we played and asked us to sing another. I cannot imagine doing that in my own country or in the country I live in, but perhaps when we stepped out of our comfort zones, we were able to step further.
Monday, Feburary 16 - Kalampaka
In the morning, Amy and I took a train to Kalampaka, a town just below Meteora, a complex of monasteries atop rock pillars (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meteora). I was blown away by the beauty of these monasteries and the view from them. Bond fans will remember that Meteora was featured in "For Your Eyes Only."
The only downside to this day was my imprudence to think that we could find the path to walk back down to the city through the forest. One could either drive up to the monasteries or hike. We hiked up just fine but apparently didn't go the appropriate way, so when we were walking back down, we couldn't find the path. It was getting dark quickly and we bushwacked for about 40 minutes before realizing it was time to go back up the hill. The climax was a 15 foot cliff to which I said, "We could always jump down. It wouldn't hurt too much." Thankfully, we thought that one through. If we jumped down, there was no getting back up. I am able to laugh about it now with a few cuts from bushwacking, but my traveling partner Amy is still at the point of no longer questioning my every decision.
February 17 - Kalampaka and Athens
We decided to stay the night in the town at a small motel. We walked up to the monasteries again and stayed on the path while going up and while going down. In the afternoon, we took a train to Athens. Amy and I planned on staying with a Greek family who we found on Couch Surfing. We arrived into Athens at 10 p.m. and had no idea where to go. We called Konstantinos, our host, and he told us to take the Metro to a certain stop and he would pick us up. Staying with Konstantinos and his wife Daniela, we were humbled by their hospitality. Their generously was at the point where I began to question why they were so nice. When we arrived at their house, we had Dominos with them and their 14-year-old daughter Anna. In the morning, they fed us breakfast and took us to the bus station. Why would they pick us up from the Metro stop? Why would they drive us to the bus station? Why would they feed us? We were complete strangers and they treated us like family, even better than family. To make matters worse, they did not grudgingly perform these tasks; they were happy to help us. I cannot say enough good words about their hospitality.
February 18 - Delphi
Amy and I took a bus to Delphi to visit the site of the ancient oracle. We arrived only an hour before its close. Ancient Delphi is situated along a mountain range. It has a spectacular view and walking among the ruins brought us to wondering what life was like for a Greek during the days of the Oracle.
February 19 - Athens
This was our only full day in Athens. We began with a walk around the Acropolis. I loved walking around the Acropolis, looking at the Parthenon and temples and theatres, wondering about what sorts of people walked through there and about Socrates and Plato and other great philosophers. The Acropolis is above a hill and was very windy, but one could see the whole city of 5 million people (the same as the number of people in Slovakia).
February 20 - Athens to Vienna
This morning we saw the Athens Archaeological Musuem. There were many great statues, but Amy wanted to see the vases but the vase room was closed. I was determined that we get in to see the vases. So I asked the receptionist and he said no. Then I asked one of the art watchers (I am not sure what the title is but it is the person who just makes sure no one hurts the works of art). Two of them said that I should ask the receptionist again and say that I came from America to see the vases. So I asked him again and he said maybe but I had to ask someone else. I asked that other person and she had to ask someone else. Then that person said it would be okay. So that person had to go get another person to walk us through the vase musuem. In total, we counted seven people we had to go through to see the vases. Amy enjoyed the vases, so my persistance was worth it. In the afternoon, we flew back to Vienna.
In summary:
The greatness of my trip is hard to explain, but I can say that this week in Greece was one of the best weeks that I have experienced. The people I met were gracious and hospitable. The sights of the cities were beautiful. I have learned many things from this trip and hope that I do not forget them too quickly.
In December, eleven of us bought tickets to fly from Vienna to Thessaloniki and then tickets from Athens to Vienna.
As this day was Valentine's Day, the airline we were flying on, SkyEurope, had a special promotion: come with the person you love to the ticket counter and show your love with a kiss and receive a free ticket. As three of us were about to go through security, we asked someone if we could receive a voucher for a future trip. We were told that this is possible. So there were three of us: two boys and one girl. One of us needed to find another girl to pretend to be in love with one of the guys. So the other guy, Allan, called over the nearest girl he could find and we tried to explain the situation to her. She was a Spanish girl named Karen. I realized that if I was going to get a free plane ticket, it would be me who would have to kiss her. She didn't seem to understand, or at least seemed highly skeptical. So we went to the ticket office and said we wanted to show our love to receive a free ticket. The lady at the counter just gave us a piece of paper to fill out and, thankfully, I did not have to kiss a complete stranger. A few days later, I received an e-mail that gave me a promotion code for a free plane ticket.
Though there were eleven of us together, we each had different plans, some of which overlapped. I was going to be traveling with my friend Amy and we were going to try a project called "Couch Surfing." This is a website on the Internet in which people offer to host others in their apartments and houses. After arriving in Thessaloniki, we had trouble getting from the airport to the center of the city (In Greece, I found that information is poor for public transportation). So, we were supposed to meet our host at a certain time in front of a monument, but Amy did not quite know exactly what he looked like but knew his name. Then a car pulled up out of nowhere, and I jokingly said, "Looks like we're getting picked up." She laughed, but then two guys got out of the car and approached us and began to ask where we were from. We both figured these were our hosts, so Amy said, "Are you here for us?" We received a blank look and a quick end to the conversation. Eventually we found our host, Jairo, a Nicarguan who studies in Greece. He was a very gracious host, letting us stay in an extra room in his apartment. He showed us around the city and took us to a nice restaurant.
Sunday, February 15 - Thessaloniki
Amy and I walked around Thessaloniki, seeing some of the sites, the Church of Demitrius and the White Tower. Then I met with some other people and went to an archaelogical musuem. It wasn't too great though. We learned here that nearly everything closes at 3 p.m. Public officials only work from 7 a.m. to 3 p.m.
In the evening, we found a nice restaurant that had some live music and one of the members from our group asked the musicians if we could sing a song for them. Everyone in the restaurant loved the song we played and asked us to sing another. I cannot imagine doing that in my own country or in the country I live in, but perhaps when we stepped out of our comfort zones, we were able to step further.
Monday, Feburary 16 - Kalampaka
In the morning, Amy and I took a train to Kalampaka, a town just below Meteora, a complex of monasteries atop rock pillars (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meteora). I was blown away by the beauty of these monasteries and the view from them. Bond fans will remember that Meteora was featured in "For Your Eyes Only."
The only downside to this day was my imprudence to think that we could find the path to walk back down to the city through the forest. One could either drive up to the monasteries or hike. We hiked up just fine but apparently didn't go the appropriate way, so when we were walking back down, we couldn't find the path. It was getting dark quickly and we bushwacked for about 40 minutes before realizing it was time to go back up the hill. The climax was a 15 foot cliff to which I said, "We could always jump down. It wouldn't hurt too much." Thankfully, we thought that one through. If we jumped down, there was no getting back up. I am able to laugh about it now with a few cuts from bushwacking, but my traveling partner Amy is still at the point of no longer questioning my every decision.
February 17 - Kalampaka and Athens
We decided to stay the night in the town at a small motel. We walked up to the monasteries again and stayed on the path while going up and while going down. In the afternoon, we took a train to Athens. Amy and I planned on staying with a Greek family who we found on Couch Surfing. We arrived into Athens at 10 p.m. and had no idea where to go. We called Konstantinos, our host, and he told us to take the Metro to a certain stop and he would pick us up. Staying with Konstantinos and his wife Daniela, we were humbled by their hospitality. Their generously was at the point where I began to question why they were so nice. When we arrived at their house, we had Dominos with them and their 14-year-old daughter Anna. In the morning, they fed us breakfast and took us to the bus station. Why would they pick us up from the Metro stop? Why would they drive us to the bus station? Why would they feed us? We were complete strangers and they treated us like family, even better than family. To make matters worse, they did not grudgingly perform these tasks; they were happy to help us. I cannot say enough good words about their hospitality.
February 18 - Delphi
Amy and I took a bus to Delphi to visit the site of the ancient oracle. We arrived only an hour before its close. Ancient Delphi is situated along a mountain range. It has a spectacular view and walking among the ruins brought us to wondering what life was like for a Greek during the days of the Oracle.
February 19 - Athens
This was our only full day in Athens. We began with a walk around the Acropolis. I loved walking around the Acropolis, looking at the Parthenon and temples and theatres, wondering about what sorts of people walked through there and about Socrates and Plato and other great philosophers. The Acropolis is above a hill and was very windy, but one could see the whole city of 5 million people (the same as the number of people in Slovakia).
February 20 - Athens to Vienna
This morning we saw the Athens Archaeological Musuem. There were many great statues, but Amy wanted to see the vases but the vase room was closed. I was determined that we get in to see the vases. So I asked the receptionist and he said no. Then I asked one of the art watchers (I am not sure what the title is but it is the person who just makes sure no one hurts the works of art). Two of them said that I should ask the receptionist again and say that I came from America to see the vases. So I asked him again and he said maybe but I had to ask someone else. I asked that other person and she had to ask someone else. Then that person said it would be okay. So that person had to go get another person to walk us through the vase musuem. In total, we counted seven people we had to go through to see the vases. Amy enjoyed the vases, so my persistance was worth it. In the afternoon, we flew back to Vienna.
In summary:
The greatness of my trip is hard to explain, but I can say that this week in Greece was one of the best weeks that I have experienced. The people I met were gracious and hospitable. The sights of the cities were beautiful. I have learned many things from this trip and hope that I do not forget them too quickly.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Response to Pop Quiz
As my religion students do not have textbooks, their homework is to study their notes that they take in class. This assignment is obviously problematic for those who do not pay attention in class, take notes, or at least copy their friend's notes.
Knowing that some students would rather not study, I decided that I would give them a pop quiz. I warned numerously days before the quiz, hoping that perhaps they would catch the hint that I would be quizzing them soon. (Perhaps I hinted too many times).
One of my students tends to behave poorly in class, bothering other classmates, eating random foods, walking around the room to give classmates these random foods. (Yes, yes, I know: I should have taken a course on classroom management). On perhaps two occasions has he positively contributed to the class.
Today, I read the answers from his pop quiz and thought they were worth sharing:
Question 6: Who were the Ebionites and what did they say about Jesus?"
An appropriate answer: A group of Jewish people who believed Jesus was 100% man and 0% God. They said Jesus fulfilled Old Testament prophecies and God adopted him as the Messiah.
My student's answer: "They are stupid people with a stupid name."
Question 7: "Who were the Marcionites and what did they say about Jesus?"
An appropriate answer: A group of anti-Jewish people who believed Jesus was 100% God and 0% Man. They also believed that two gods existed: the god of the Old Testament and the god of the New Testament.
My student's answer: "A group of people who we would be better off if they never existed."
(Note: Ironically, some would actually agree with my student)
Question 8: "What did the Council of Nicea say about Jesus?"
An appropriate answer: Jesus was 100% God, 100% Man.
Or: See Nicene Creed.
My student's answer (part 1): "He is loving, kind, etc."
My student's answer (part 2): "I am not interested in what someone says. It is supposed to be about my belief. You are destroying my belief."
Puzzled by how to respond to his answer, I decided to talk to some of the other religion professors about what they would do. Knowing the student, each of them said they would write something such as "What belief is that?" or "Your belief that your god is not doing work?" One of the religion professors also said that this response is clique from people who don't actually want to work, don't know the answer, and just want to make the teacher feel bad.
After thinking about the situation, I came to a few conclusions:
1) My student picked the wrong question to say that I was destroying his belief. The other two questions would have been better to point out that I should quiz them only on the most vital points. This is a religion class on the history of Christianity. If he considers himself Christian, the answer to the question is his belief. All he had to do was say his belief and he would be right.
2) I remember telling him that Jesus was not born in a vacuum. I will have to tell him that he was not born into a vacuum either.
3) Low expectations bring happy results. I definitely didn't expect him to pass the quiz, but he did get two answers right.
Knowing that some students would rather not study, I decided that I would give them a pop quiz. I warned numerously days before the quiz, hoping that perhaps they would catch the hint that I would be quizzing them soon. (Perhaps I hinted too many times).
One of my students tends to behave poorly in class, bothering other classmates, eating random foods, walking around the room to give classmates these random foods. (Yes, yes, I know: I should have taken a course on classroom management). On perhaps two occasions has he positively contributed to the class.
Today, I read the answers from his pop quiz and thought they were worth sharing:
Question 6: Who were the Ebionites and what did they say about Jesus?"
An appropriate answer: A group of Jewish people who believed Jesus was 100% man and 0% God. They said Jesus fulfilled Old Testament prophecies and God adopted him as the Messiah.
My student's answer: "They are stupid people with a stupid name."
Question 7: "Who were the Marcionites and what did they say about Jesus?"
An appropriate answer: A group of anti-Jewish people who believed Jesus was 100% God and 0% Man. They also believed that two gods existed: the god of the Old Testament and the god of the New Testament.
My student's answer: "A group of people who we would be better off if they never existed."
(Note: Ironically, some would actually agree with my student)
Question 8: "What did the Council of Nicea say about Jesus?"
An appropriate answer: Jesus was 100% God, 100% Man.
Or: See Nicene Creed.
My student's answer (part 1): "He is loving, kind, etc."
My student's answer (part 2): "I am not interested in what someone says. It is supposed to be about my belief. You are destroying my belief."
Puzzled by how to respond to his answer, I decided to talk to some of the other religion professors about what they would do. Knowing the student, each of them said they would write something such as "What belief is that?" or "Your belief that your god is not doing work?" One of the religion professors also said that this response is clique from people who don't actually want to work, don't know the answer, and just want to make the teacher feel bad.
After thinking about the situation, I came to a few conclusions:
1) My student picked the wrong question to say that I was destroying his belief. The other two questions would have been better to point out that I should quiz them only on the most vital points. This is a religion class on the history of Christianity. If he considers himself Christian, the answer to the question is his belief. All he had to do was say his belief and he would be right.
2) I remember telling him that Jesus was not born in a vacuum. I will have to tell him that he was not born into a vacuum either.
3) Low expectations bring happy results. I definitely didn't expect him to pass the quiz, but he did get two answers right.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Lyceum Ball
On January 15, the students hosted a ball.
When I asked if I would attend the ball, my first question was "what kind of dancing is involved?"
The response: "You know, dances that take place at balls."
This would mean that I would have to learn how to dance, real dances, not the Macarena or the Cha-Cha Slide or the Chicken Dance. So, one of the teachers at the school said that she knew someone who would teach us how to dance. We would learn the waltz, the tango, the two-step, polka, and a few others.
The dance instructor spoke only Slovak except "quick quick slow...quick quick slow." Nevertheless he was very nice and these lessons (I took three of them) gave me an opportunity to practice my Slovak and my dancing at the same time. I got to dance with one of the teachers who only spoke Slovak. She taught me much on the dance floor, in the language of Slovak and dancing.
The day before the ball, one of the students told me that she had a surprise for me and the other teachers at the ball. I thought, "this can't be good. Surprises = bad." Nevertheless, the surprise was that she danced a waltz with me as the first dance when it was just teachers and students together. On the dance floor, I forgot nearly everything.
It was a good thing that I forgot nearly everything because it turned out that the ball was more of a dance than a ball. So after about 20 minutes of ball music, the DJ began to play disco music. (Note: disco music is not necessarily '70s music but music that people go out to clubs to dance to).
Tomorrow, I will be attempting another ball. My friend Joe who rafts for the National Slovak Rafting Team invited me to his Watersports Ball. I went to this ball last year and they did do actual dances. I recall my dances to polka music. I will be bringing my dancing shoes.
When I asked if I would attend the ball, my first question was "what kind of dancing is involved?"
The response: "You know, dances that take place at balls."
This would mean that I would have to learn how to dance, real dances, not the Macarena or the Cha-Cha Slide or the Chicken Dance. So, one of the teachers at the school said that she knew someone who would teach us how to dance. We would learn the waltz, the tango, the two-step, polka, and a few others.
The dance instructor spoke only Slovak except "quick quick slow...quick quick slow." Nevertheless he was very nice and these lessons (I took three of them) gave me an opportunity to practice my Slovak and my dancing at the same time. I got to dance with one of the teachers who only spoke Slovak. She taught me much on the dance floor, in the language of Slovak and dancing.
The day before the ball, one of the students told me that she had a surprise for me and the other teachers at the ball. I thought, "this can't be good. Surprises = bad." Nevertheless, the surprise was that she danced a waltz with me as the first dance when it was just teachers and students together. On the dance floor, I forgot nearly everything.
It was a good thing that I forgot nearly everything because it turned out that the ball was more of a dance than a ball. So after about 20 minutes of ball music, the DJ began to play disco music. (Note: disco music is not necessarily '70s music but music that people go out to clubs to dance to).
Tomorrow, I will be attempting another ball. My friend Joe who rafts for the National Slovak Rafting Team invited me to his Watersports Ball. I went to this ball last year and they did do actual dances. I recall my dances to polka music. I will be bringing my dancing shoes.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
My Lutheran Pilgrimage
The Friday before last, the assistant principal came up to me and asked me if I would mind going to Germany with some religion seminar students and students at the theological school. "Would I mind?" I respond. "Yeah, I'd mind. I'd love to go."So, the trip left last Wednesday morning at 7 a.m. Thankfully, I was only responsible for four students (see right).
After several hours in the car, we arrived at our first destination,
Dresden, which was controversially bombed by the Allies during World War II. Somewhere between 24,000 and 40,000 people were killed. The only place we visited was the Church of our Lady, a Lutheran church that recently reconstructed after it was destroyed only by the fire after the bombing. It is said that each bomb that hit the church bounced off of the roof. While rebuilding the church, they were able to use some of the old stones from the destroyed church. They attempted to recreate the church as close to the original as possible.We were only in Dresden for about an hour before we had to leave. We rode in a bus for another four hours before arriving at our final destination for the night, Allmanhausen. I don't know the technical term
for the place we stayed, but it was a mixture of a youth hostel and a youth center. During the day, the place was used for youth to come and have a place to "hang out." They served very large meals, which was much appreciated. The first night, at 10:30 p.m., we were greeted with a glass of champagne and a plate full of sausages.The following morning, we woke, had breakfast, and went to the Wartburg Castle. Like many castles, it stood upon a large hill and I imagined Luther riding up to the castle as Knight George, saying, "Well, if they find me here, there is no escape." This idea got me thinking about hiding places in general. Hiding is often the final option. Usually there are not escape routes from the places you escape to.
Not much of the castle was devoted to Luther; however, we did get see his study. It was a small room with nothing but a stove, a desk, a chair, and a picture of Luther as Knight George. I tried to imagine Luther sitting in that chair, translating the Greek Bible into German on that desk. Obviously the desk and the chair are newer than 1521, but something needed to be there. I imagined Luther throwing ink at apparitions of the Devil. One of my favorite pictures of the entire trip was of a drawing in Wittenberg in which Luther is translating the Bible at Wartburg and the Devil, hidden under the desk, is holding up a picture of a pope's hat and a naked woman. Luther looks very sternly at the Devil.
Upon leaving Wartburg Castle, we travel to the Eisenach Luther House and a Bach House.
The Luther House in Eisenach was rather unimpressive. The exhibition was small and the tour was short and general. Everything the tour guide told us we already knew. The Bach House, on the other hand, was more impressive. The tour guide played Bach pieces on ancient instruments. So we could relax and hear the music of Bach.The next day we traveled to Jena to some German seminary students. They took us around the city and told us a bit about Christianity in Germany. I learned that in Germany, there is a religious tax. To declare yourself a Christian, you have to pay a tax to the government. In Germany then, 1/3 of the people are Protestant, 1/3 Catholic, and 1/3 undeclared. Perhaps people do not want to declare a religion just so that they do not have to pay the tax.
In the evening, we traveled to Erfurt, where Luther became an Augustinian monk. At the church there, we heard an interesting story. The place where Luther prostrated himself, taking his vows as a monk ("I will be the best monk that I can") were taken over the grave of a man who was important in sending Jan Hus to be burned at the stake. Before Hus died, he said, "They will roast a goose now, but after a hundred years they will hear a swan sing, and him they will have to endure." Hus means "goose." So a hundred years after Hus was killed, Luther, whom they call the "swan," "sang" his vows as a monk in Erfort.
The following morning we traveled to the site of the 1525 Peasant's Revolt led by Thomas Muntzer. At this site is a panaromic painting of the battle. This painting was very impressive and I wish that I could have taken pictures of the painting but none were allowed to be taken.
In the afternoon, we went to Eisleben, where Luther was born and died. Here, we saw another Luther House. This one was on par with the first as the tour guide didn't seem to excited about her job.
At night, we traveled to our final destination, Wittenberg. An ELCA center exists in Wittenberg that helps people set up tours to see Luther's sites. It was nice to meet people from my country.
The following morning, we attended a church service at the Castle Church, where Luther posted his 95 Theses. The students complained about not being able to understand the whole service because it was in
German. My only reply was, "how do you think I feel going to chapel in Slovak?" The Castle Church is the home of Luther and Melanchthon's bodies. After the service, I got to walk out of "The Door" (it's a new door now with the 95 Theses engraved on it).After church, we had lunch with more German seminary students and saw another Luther House. This Luther House was the best of the three. It had the most artifacts and information. In the evening, we attended an organ concert at the Castle Church.
The following morning, we had a tour of Wittenberg, which included the church where Luther preached. Surprisingly, this church was smaller or seemed less important than the Castle Church. The Castle Church was the church that belonged to the university where Luther taught.
That afternoon we traveled back to Bratislava. I appreciated the trip because I could touch the sites of part of my heritage. I had always been fascinated by Luther ever since I heard about him going crazy in his monastery cell. What was this guy like? Where did he live? What make him the way he was?
As I wandered around these cities, observing Luther's sites and pictures of Luther and cakes with the Luther Cross iced on it, I began to wonder, "What would Luther say about all this?" I have a hard time imagining Luther accepting the fact that statues were created for him and houses made into museums for him. I have a feeling he would say something like, "You're wasting space. I have only done what anyone should have done and did try to do." Perhaps maybe this is what I would just hope that he would say. With that thought in my mind, perhaps I shouldn't be so fascinated by the guy as I am.
All in all, if you want to see Luther's sites, contact the ELCA Wittenberg Center and they will help you.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Stužková
Last Saturday, the half of the fifth-year students celebrated their Stužková. To explain Stužková, we can say it is a mixture of prom, graduation, and parent's night.The night began around 6:30 p.m. when the students entered into a reception hall in dresses and suits. Each of their names is called and each of them go to receive a green ribbon from their class teacher. This ribbon, I believe, symbolizes hope for the students in passing their exit
exams. They are congratulated by their class teacher, the god teacher, and the vice-principal. The class teacher is the teacher who checks their grades and attendance over the five years. The god teacher is something like a god parent, we might say.Then the select students give speeches to their families and the teachers, and then the class teacher gives a speech, and then a parent gives a speech. Fortunately, I seated myself next to a Slovak colleague who could translate these speeches for me.
After the speeches, the students dance with a parent and then dance with a teacher. We had to dance a waltz, and I had never waltzed before. So, prior to going to the reception hall, I ha
d someone teach me how to waltz in three minutes. I was excited to show off my skills. Nevertheless, when I walk on the dance floor with the student who was supposed to dance with me, she says, "You don't have to waltz. We can just move from side to side." This was a real heart breaker. Imagine me standing up there ready to show off my skills and she tells me to just move from side to side.Finally, after all the speeches and dances, we got to eat. It was past 8 p.m. The food was delicious. Dinner began with an appetizer: ham and whipped cream. When I think of good appetizers, I think of ham and whipped cream. Then we had soup, follow
ed by chicken and rice. I was satisfied with the meal. I'm not a good person to ask about how good food is though because I'll eat anything.After dinner was an informal program. The students performed many skits, dances, and songs. A few stood out. First was "Another Brick in the Wall, Pt. 2" by some students. The teachers said to each other, "Well, they don't need no education. So I guess no school on Monday then." The next was eight-person "song" routine in which one person begins the "song" by saying, in Slovak of course, what his job is like and then the next person fo
llows but the first person continues as well. Imagine something like "Twelve Days of Christmas" but each day of Christmas is said at the same time. The best was probably the belly-dance routine. If you cannot see in the above picture, I am wearing a pink tie. I planned on wearing a blue tie, but I encourage by my friends to wear a pink tie. So I did. Nevertheless, a few of the students gave me a hard time about the tie. They said it looked "homosexual." Ironically, not a half-hour later, one of them was belly dancing in girl's clothes. Their dance 
was rather humorous and I made sure to point out the hypocrisy in what the student said earlier. Perhaps the student have learned something about stereotypes and the neutrality of colors through this experience.The informal program did not get over until after midnight, when a second dinner was waiting for us outside. The only thing better than dinner is having two dinners. The second dinner was similar to the first, but I didn't mind at all. After the second dinner was the dance which began around 1 a.m. and ended around 5 a.m.
My roommate Larry was able to dance the entire four hours, non-stop; however, I was not this strong. I have to commend the guy. He's 61 years old and danced longer than anyone else, and, to put an exclamation point at the end of the sentence, he did all this dancing after losin
g his big toenail during the dance. How does that happen?At around 4 a.m., the DJ said the dance was over. Then the students started a chant which began with "one more song" and continued to "two more songs" and "three more songs" and so on until the DJ continued playing music. He stopped at 5 a.m. I was dead tired. As I looked around the dance floor, I noticed the number of students was doubled by the number of teachers. How does that happen? We're old. They're young.
The dance part was nice because not all of the students danced and I had
an opportunity to talk with them. With some of the students, I talked about the differences between prom and Stužková. This was an interesting conversation because one of the students studied in Canada the previous year and then got to experience both of these. From my observation, prom is very individual and Stužková is about the particular class of students as a whole. At Stužková, no one has a date. Their boyfriend or girlfriend might have been invited to sit with their family, but they do not come as a couple.I finally returned home at 5:40 a.m. The students were very thankful that we stayed with them until the end. My experience with Stužková is not over, however. Two weeks from now, I will get to celebrate with the other class. There's nothing I enjoy more than staying up until 5 a.m. with a bunch of students.
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