Idyllic Switzerland

I am now quickly approaching the 3-month mark for my stay in Graz. Amazingly enough, it has been exactly that--my stay in Graz. When I was a study abroad student, I travelled outside of Graz about once a month....this go around, I've been quite content to stay put. I've had a good while to settle in here, and now the travel bug is biting once again.

So when I heard that a friend of mine was going to be in Switzerland for a business trip, I jumped at the chance for a weekend getaway. I'd been to Switzerland once before in February 2004, and I remember being deeply impressed by the amazing landscapes and spectacular Alps that the country has to offer. With this in mind, we decided to meet up and see exactly that. As I was researching the trip online, I found a particular mountain not too far from Lucerne where visitors could ride a rotating gondola up to the summit and see a glacier park and glacier cave. The glacier cave was really the thing that tipped the scales, and this was exactly where we decided to go.

As most of my travels go, this one was not without a dramatic start--this time involving illegal entry into the country of Switzerland! As a standing offer, there are really cheap night trains that run from Graz to Zurich. I discovered the day before my trip that a girl from my small group was also going on the same train, so we decided to meet up and travel together. She had a seat, and I was in a sleeping car, so as the train took off I sat in the free seat next to her and chatted for awhile. When the conductor came around to check the tickets, he looked at mine and told me I was in the wrong seat. We told him that I was just back there visiting with her for awhile, and without anything further, he moved on. However, as I was sitting in the wrong seat, he did not validate my ticket. Around midnight I decided to head back to my sleeping car. By the time I got there, it was pitch black and everyone in the car was already asleep. My bed was the top bunk in a stack of 3, and as I tried to climb up, I discovered that someone had placed a large and rather heavy suitcase on the bed. Struggling to bring it down in the dark and not make too much noise, I pulled it from the bunk and plunked it down on the floor. I struggled up the ladder and onto the top bunk, taking extra care not to accidentally step on the other passengers, and then realized that I had to make the bed in the dark. I was making quite a racket and struggling with the sheets when the guy in the top bunk across from me turned on his light and indicated that I should do the same....there was a light! I thanked him, got my act together, and settled in for a night of bumpy rest (i.e., no sleep). In the morning, the conductor woman appeared at the door with the passengers' tickets and passports she had collected the night before. (Note: Switzerland is NOT in the EU. In keeping with the whole neutrality thing, they are autonomous and--it would appear--rather proud of their independent economy as well. Therefore, passports are needed when crossing the border into Switzerland.) She redistributed the passports and then looked up in shock at my bunk and asked, "Who are you and what are you doing here?!" I apologized and explained to her that I was visiting with a friend in the car up front when they came around last night, so she hadn't collected my ticket or my passport; then I offered to get them out and show them to her right away. She gave me an exasperasted look and said that now it was too late for that. She didn't need to see it anymore. And, on top of all that, she didn't know I was there, so I wouldn't get any breakfast! As she went away the Light Guy on the bunk across from me offered me his breakfast. I declined, but he insisted he wasn't going to eat it, so I should. So I accepted the bootleg breakfast. A few minutes later the conductor lady came back, and in a nicer but still somewhat exasperated tone said, "Well I could get you some coffee or tea. Do you want a coffee or tea?" Thanking her, I said that a coffee would be very nice. When we arrived in Zurich, I met my friend on the platform and explained to her my illegal entry into Switzerland--no passport check, no validation of my ticket...technically I wasn't even there!

When we arrived in Zurich on Friday hostel, we found the hostel and dropped off my stuff. The hostel was delightfully close to the train station in the trendy pedestrian area, but it was also located three flights up a twisty wooden staircase above a restaurant that smelled like dirty dishwater. Being the cheapest hostel in Zurich, I couldn't really complain. We then went out for a Swiss breakfast of granola, fruit and cheese, and then my friend from Graz went on her way. Not long thereafter, my friend Ed arrived in Zurich. It was about lunchtime by the time he got there, so the first thing we did was go to the grocery store and buy bread, cheese, and mineral water--this was to become our staple food for the weekend, eating out in a restaurant only for dinner. After sampling the first of our Swiss bread and cheese, the reception at the stinky hostel was closed. We then decided to visit the Landesmuseum, a museum for Swiss history and culture. This museum was in an old castle-y looking building, complete with turrets. By the time we'd walked through ancient Swiss history to the present, the museum was about to close. Ready to leave, we started following the exit signs...however, every exit sign led to a closed door or in circles to other exit signs that led nowhere! After awhile, it became almost a game to see if we could, indeed, find the exit. By this time we had been (literally) directed in circles, to locked doors, cordoned-off staircases and the like--and we were too far in to even consider asking for directions! Gradually I got the sense that there was a security guard up there somewhere, staring at his CCTV screens and laughing at the hapless American tourists running around in circles in search of the exit. Finally, after passing a particular security guard for the 4th or 5th time, she asked us if we were looking for anything in particular. Conceding defeat, I said we were trying to find the exit. She escorted us out of the museum, but I can say rather confidently that we would NOT have arrived at the same exit door she showed us!

After checking in to the hostel, we decided to go out and explore the city of Zurich. Ed had seen free bicycles advertised near the train station and suggested we take out a couple of bikes. This never, ever would have occurred to me, since a) it was winter, and b) it was nighttime. But it seemed like a fun idea, so we decided to "rent" them for a returnable deposit of 20 Swiss Francs and Ed's passport. When we took out the bikes, I figured we'd take them for a spin around Lake Zurich like every other tourist; however, Ed suggested we bike up. Biking uphill, again, never would have occurred to me. But Zurich--as a city surrounded by hills--was sure to be a pretty sight from atop the hills. I hadn't actually been on a bike since my century ride in June 2005, so getting up the little hills of Zurich was a bit embarrassing and involved me dismounting and walking my bike...twice! But by the time we made it to the top, it was worth it--the city was sparkling with lights, and it was a wonderful view.

The next morning, we boarded a train for Engelberg, a tiny town (or what German-speakers would indubitably call a "village") about 50 minutes outside of Lucerne. Engelberg was tiny and quaint--exactly what you would expect a Swiss village nestled in the mountains to be. From there, we found the gondola that would take us up to the summit of Mt. Titlis. We boarded the gondola among tourists and skiiers alike, since apparently there are also ski runs down this particular mountain. Halfway up the mountain, you transfer from a regular gondola to the world's only rotating gondola. On the [tightly-packed] rotating gondola, you then continue the journey up the mountain to the summit. We started to get excited as we passed outcroppings of glacier--chunks of the mountain that were clearly ice, not rock. By the time we got to the summit, we (along with the 30 other people packed into the gondola) were itching to get out and check out this glacier for ourselves. Once on the summit, I couldn't help but think to myself in wonder, "I'm on a Swiss Alp." It was just as before--the mountains in that area are majestic and spectacular and dramatic and breathtaking in a way that I can't properly describe and that the pictures cannot really do justice. We stayed out there as long as our not-yet-frostbitten fingers would allow, and then went down to check out the glacier cave, or ice grotto. Carved into the glacier on the mountain and lit with colored lights, the glacier cave was definitely a very cool highlight. I'd never been into an ice cave before, but it was both cosy (gemütlich) and fascinating. It was particularly difficult to stop taking pictures in the ice grotto. When we came back out, it was snowing and there was zero visibility on the mountaintop. Grateful for being one step ahead of the weather, we headed back down the mountain. By the time we arrived back in Engelberg, the cheese factory (in an old monastery) that we wanted to visit was closed, so we headed back to Lucerne.

Lucerne, by comparison, seemed a lot like Zurich. By the time we had explored the ins and outs of Lucerne, it was much harder to distinguish the two cities in our heads. Lucerne, though smaller and quainter, held the same perfect Swiss I'm-a-beautiful-city-on-a-beautiful-lake-surrounded-by-mountains feel that Zurich did. That evening, we ate an amazingly yummy dinner in a nice little restaurant (that called themselves a "wine cave") by the wooden bridge. I particularly wanted to get some Spätzli (spaetzle), and the Spätzli I ordered was the best I'd had. Likewise, Ed got the wild boar (intriguing, huh?) that was also very tasty. Coupled with some wine and an apple torte for dessert, it was inarguably the best meal of the trip. Sunday morning, we walked through town and got to see in the daylight what we had explored the night before. I had been to Lucerne for one day in 2004, but it was so rainy and gray that I couldn't tell that it was also surrounded by mountains! Sunday morning, the mountains had a blue haze that matched the water of Lake Lucerne, and again the descriptor that came to mind was simply "idyllic."

Sunday morning we went back to Zurich, where our first stop was the Coffee Museum. For only 5 Swiss Francs, you get to see the coffee museum AND drink as much coffee as you can! For some, this would be considered paradise. The exhibits at the coffee museum were quite interesting and interactive--over the history of coffee, the coffee-making process, coffee's role in society and social interaction, coffee in fine art, and the marketing of coffee. It was a small museum, but totally worth seeing. For the rest of the evening, we ambled around town, wandering aimlessly from one church or historic building to another. On our last stop into the Grossmünster church, they were preparing to hold a public singing event for the first Sunday of advent. Intrigued by the opportunity to sing Swiss Christmas carols, we came back when the carol singing was to begin. A choir director stood up front with the choir but directed us, the audience, in how to sing the songs. He took his job very seriously, making us practice certain lines over and over again until we got it right and then instructing how the songs should be sung and when. There were a couple songs in the program that were in Swiss German--which is really like it's own language. However, I found it very difficult to sing along with these songs because I was giggling so hard at the Swiss German! We left the church after a particularly unfamiliar version of "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel" in which the verses were completely different than the verses I've ever sung, and went out for a last hearty Swiss dinner. We chose a restaurant in a building from the 1400s, which boasted its own sausage menu and a generous mix of locals and tourists alike. Taking advantage of the sausage menu and local beer list, I filled up before my train ride back to Graz.

The trip back to Graz was not nearly as exciting (or illegal) as the trip there. But coming away from this 3-day weekend in Switzerland, we had to agree--the best overall word to describe everything we saw was indeed IDYLLIC. The landscape was idyllic. The cities were idyllic. Even the swans were idyllic! It was the perfect long weekend getaway from Graz, and the first of what I hope will be many more exciting travels. (The next of which will be my trip to Australia for Chrismas/New Year's/Birthday, so stay tuned!!)

**The idyllic photos of Switzerland can be found on the Flickr link on the righthand column.... :)

The General State of Affairs and Minor Victories at the 2-Month Mark

**While walking along the main shopping street in Graz, I saw a window display in a clothing store being changed. The box full of random mannequin arms was delightfully random and struck me as pictureworthy!

I've officially been in Austria for 2 months and 2 days. I thought now would be a good time to check in with you, maybe revisit some of my older thoughts and posts, and let you know where I stand thus far!

• My first week of teaching, I reported my schedule of teaching 12 hours a week only 3 days a week--Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. As relaxing as this sounds, I've discovered that it's surprisingly tiring to teach "so much"! It's a really active job to stand in front of a group of teenage boys and attempt to enage them and capture their attention for 50 long minutes at a time. It requires being prepared...like dogs, I'm convinced that students can smell fear. If I'm not comfortable in my topic, they'll know it. I spend an average of 5-8 hours preparing my lessons (3-4 hours on a good day); then, I will study the finished lesson plan and learn any new information or facts by heart--in this way, teaching a lesson on a new subject is much like giving an oral report. The only way to really keep them engaged is to speak directly to them--not to read from a sheet or keep checking my notes. In my class, I am the expert on everything. It has to be this way, I've learned, for a successful lesson. Talking so much is also tiring--by the end of the school day I am totally ready to disengage. My schedule has just changed again for the end of the semester...I now work a highly desirable Monday-Wednesday block, giving me a 4-day weekend every week from now until Christmas. Ahhhhh.....


• Attentive readers of my blog may recall my reference to Frank McCourt's Teacher Man and my aspirations to be that teacher who gets by (and ends up teaching the students something along the way) by telling stories. Today I gave a lesson on Thanksgiving to a class of 16-year-olds. We started with the history of Thanksgiving and an explanation of the Pilgrims, etc., and then we moved on to a narrated slide show showing everything prototypically Thankgiving-y: all of the Thanksgiving foods, Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, Thanksgiving Day football, Black Friday, and even the Simpsons Thanksgiving special. I ended with an explanation of my own family's Thanksgiving Day traditions--a huge feast with all of the extended family, the rigid table manners enforced at my grandmother's house, and the annual weight-gaining competition. Every family has their oddities, and the weight-gaining competition, taken quite seriously by some, happens to be one of ours. I described how one cousin, whose strategy was to drink uncomfortable amounts of water, usually won the contest. One year my grandmother decided to help me win. She took my grandfather's velcro wrist weights (for power walking) and strapped them around my legs under my dress. When I got onto the scale, there was a general outcry of shock as it was discovered that 10-year-old Rebecca had somehow gained an impressive 12 pounds! As I was revelling in the certainty of my victory, I felt one of the weights loosen and start to slip down my leg. I tried to keep my legs tight together, but as I stepped off the scale, the weight slid to the floor and betrayed me. I was naturally banned from the contest and my cousin the water-drinker won again that year. As we were leaving class, the teacher told me, "You really are such a good storyteller! The kids were hanging on every word--you tell stories really well!" ...Perhaps I'll make Frank McCourt proud after all...


• You may also recall how my German has good days and bad days. This is still the case, but things are getting brighter. Well, perhaps. When my German is good, it's really really good; when it's bad, it's just embarassing. (See previous post!) While I still struggle with something I call Morgen-Deutsch (morning German, a term applied to any German before 12 noon), occassionally I do reach the point where (like in a previous blog) I can be mistaken--if only for a little while--for a native. Recently I was speaking to a teacher, and he was asking about how I learned German. He complemented me on my German and said that I had "a 0.1% accent...No! Actually a 0.01% accent." I also went to see "Ratatouille" in German not too long ago, and there were a couple of girls giving out free coffee samples from a new Nescafe coffee machine. As I was asking for my particular type of coffee, one of the people I was with addressed me in English. The girls, unusually outgoing for Austrians, started a conversation with me, asking me where I was from and noting that I spoke exceptional German. This led to another conversation on how and where I learned German. These girls were from Vienna and thought it was funny that I learned the local German; I explained to them that I didn't know any better, since Graz is really where I learned German in the first place, so I don't necessarily know which words are local and which are not. This led to a long and interesting conversation about their take on the Styrian dialect and my experience with it as a foreigner that lasted until I was literally dragged into the movie. All in all, my German is going really well. Aside from the absolutely terrifying incident of playing a game of "Telephone" in a circle full of Austrian teenagers at a birthday party--irrationally fearful that whatever was whispered in my ear would be either in dialect or words I don't know, causing great embarrassment and a suddent halt to the game--I'd say I'm doing pretty well.


• My lessons are still pretty darn awesome, and amazingly enough the kids are actually retaining information! It was a really big moment for me last week when one of the teachers told me how the kids corrected her in class: for some activity or other, she declared, "I'll be the referee, and I'll decide what's right or wrong." Then the students spoke up and said, "But we had Rebecca earlier today and she told us about baseball--it's not called a referee, it's called an umpire!" None of the students had heard of the word "umpire" until they had the baseball lesson...they actually learned something!


• I can also check off one item on the list of things I wanted to accomplish in my free time: learning ballroom dancing! I've started taking private dance lessons with another language assistant in preparation for the ball season. The balls (just to remind you, these are balls in the fairy tale sense of the word) have already begun and will continue for the next few months. We've decided to tackle some of the typical dances one would find at a ball--slow waltz, Viennese waltz, foxtrot, cha cha cha, and other random assortments of ballroom dance. So far we've done the cha cha cha (a ballroom favorite, since it does not require much space on the dancefloor) and tomorrow we begin with the waltz! It feels really good to be dancing again (as there is no swing dancing in all of Austria it seems, it's nice to get out dancing again) and I'm already looking forward to showing off at a ball!

And just to reiterate, I love love love getting your comments. Thanks so much for taking the time to read the blog--even if it's a one-sided activity, it makes me feel more connected to everyone so far away!

Happy Thanksgiving!

First Snow!

It's official...winter is here! It started snowing this morning when I woke up, and it's been alternating between pretty fluffy snow and wet icky snow ever since. It's sticking more up in the area where Iive, and it looked so pretty that I had to take pictures. As I'm a huge fan of snow, it's a happy day for me.



(Note: The rest of Austria has already gotten a bunch of snow, but Graz was like the black hole of all the wintery weather patterns. We're finally on board!)

Pardon me, but the machine devoured my money!

*Fall in Austria

A couple days ago, I went to the train station to buy a train ticket. My intention was to simultaneously get a Vorteilscard, which would give me half price on all train travel within Austria until I turn 26, and then purchase the discounted ticket.



I already had the application for my Vorteilscard ready and filled out; the only thing I needed to do was affix a passport-sized photo. Since I didn't have any extra passport-sized photos lying around, I decided to get some made in the photo machine at the train station. So upon arriving at the train station, I immediately went down to the area with the photo machines boasting passport photos, funny photos to give out to your friends, and photo business cards (among other things), and inserted my €5 into the slot, selecting the Passport Photos option. Taking a seat in the booth and pulling the curtain closed behind me, I was impressed with the kindly female voice walking me through all the steps. As the photo was being taken 4 times (from which I could choose my favorite photo to print), I couldn't help but think of the movie "Amelie"--of all the photos made in such booths in train stations, and also of the photo machine ghost that Amelie and Nino track through the city. I was instructed by the female voice to leave the booth and retrieve my photos from the slot on the outside of the machine. But when I went out there...no photos. So I waited, allowing them to print some more...still no photos. I went back inside the booth and started jiggling things and then went out to check again...still no photos.



Realizing that I was going to remain photoless until I did something about it, I decided to go up and buy my ticket. I didn't have the first clue who to seek out as the person to talk to about the malfunctioning machine and get my money back, but I figured the guy at the ticket counter would know. So I went back upstairs and purchased a ticket for travel outside of Austria which, thankfully, did not require a Vorteilscard. Before I left the counter, I explained to him that the machine downstairs was broken and asked who I should talk to about that. He checked in the computer and saw that the photo machine people wouldn't be coming to the train station for another two weeks, and so he told me to go call the phone number on the outside of the machine and that they would be able to help me.



With a feeling of dread, I went back downstairs. Calling the number on the automat is something I would hate to do in English, let alone in German. And what was I going to say when I called?!--"Hello...a machine...it is broken...help please...." I found the number on the outside of the booth, and with a here-goes-nothing attitude, I made the call. After a couple rings, a voice at the other end picked up and said something that was completely unintelligible to me. Barging right on ahead, I greeted the voice and explained that I was in the Graz train station with a broken photo machine that took my money but would not give me the photos. As I spoke, I was surprised at how well all of this was coming out, and I did not have the nervous phone stutter that I often have! The man asked me for a few more details about the machine (does it take your money? does it take the photos? do you receive the photos? so it takes the photos--i.e., it's working--but you don't get the photos?) and then told me he'd look into that particular machine and send me the €5 by bank transfer; all he needed was my bank information and account number. Since I didn't have that information with me (or memorized), I told him I'd have to get back to him later. He said that I could send him my name and bank information in a text message and he'd take care of it.



The next day I located my bank information and sat down to write the text message. I wrote a short message introducing myself and explaining that I had spoken to him the day before about the machine that....that what? That was broken? In English, I would say that the machine ate my money. I thought about this for a few moments, weighing the appropriateness of the phrase "ate my money" and also the implications of this phrase in the German language. After some deliberation, I concluded that it would be a lively and clever way of saying that the machine was broken if I said that it ate my money. And because German has two words for "to eat"--essen, which is what humans do, and fressen, which is what animals do (and is more akin to "devour")--I could use the non-human term and further indicate in a cute and clever way that the machine devoured my money. Satisfied with this conclusion, I proofread the text message about 5 times and then sent it, feeling confident and clever with my mastery of this awkward and unusual situation.



Within seconds, my phone was ringing. I looked down at the number displayed and saw that it was the photo machine guy. Thinking that he must be calling just to confirm that he received the text, I answered the phone confidently and self-assured. He then introduced himself and said that he had received my text, but that it was unclear what I meant by "the machine devoured my money." My feeling of confidence immediately deflated like a balloon. And the stuttering, ineloquent Phone Rebecca appeared. He wanted to know: So when you say that the machine ate your money, does that mean it took your money and didn't do anything? Or did it take your money and take your picture? Or did it take your money and take your picture but not give you your picture? Humbled and not feeling like a master of the German language anymore, I explained to him that, yes, the machine worked fine and took the pictures, it just didn't give me the pictures. He clarified the situation about two more times, and when he was absolutely certain that the machine did not, in fact, devour my money--that it simply did not produce the pictures--he thanked me and told me he'd take care of it.



A day later, I was discussing this situation with an Austrian friend. I told her about my clever text and the photo machine guy's confusion, and it was then that she explained to me that machines in Austria do not devour or eat one's money....they swallow one's money!



With this small lesson learned, I can confidently say that I will never forget that German-speaking machines swallow (as opposed to eat) one's money. Embarassment is truly an effective teaching tool.

Knock, knock!...

...Who's there?

Nobel.

Nobel who?

There's no bell, that's why I'm knocking!

....But in Graz there are bells, as I've mentioned in one of my first blog entries. A couple days ago it was one of those perfect fall days where the air is crisp yet comfortingly warm and the sun is actually shining. The trees were ablaze with the fall colors and it was just too nice of a day to stay inside, so I went up on the Schlossberg (a hill in the middle of town upon which a fortress and clock tower were built) to write some letters and enjoy the weather. Then the bells all around town all started to sound simultaneously, so I whipped out my camera and took a video of the view with the sound of the bells for your viewing pleasure...

Time is Like a Suitcase...I Pack to Fit!

***This is absolutely amazing and must be shared! THE ARNOLD APPLE: This is a Styrian Power Apple. From "the homeland of Arnold Schwarzenegger", this apple offers incomparable strength and taste..."Lovingly tended by skilled and dedicated fruit growers in their small and medium-sized orchards it is a rich natural source of health, strenth and flavor"!! At the ridiculous price of €1 per apple, it was totally worth it!!

The amazing thing about my time in Austria is, well, how much of it I have. Only working 3 days/12 hours a week, this gives me quite a bit of free time. I'm often asked what I do with all of my free time, and I never seem to have a suitable answer. But I'm rarely bored. So in order to let you in on my secret of how to stay busy enough that I don't go absolutely crazy, I will take you through my week and dedicate this blog posting to that wonderful and malleable concept of time.

Sunday

Let's start with the first day of the week and move on from there. Sundays in Austria are wonderful things. They're also quite a change in pace from my Sundays in New York! In New York, I would typically get up around 10 or 11 on a Sunday, loll around in my PJ's for awhile, meet up with friends for brunch, and then either stay home or go into the city until church started at 5 or 7 pm. Here, it's pretty much the opposite.

I wake up around 8 am on Sunday and get ready to go into church. It was surprisingly easy to get back into the swing of morning church, and getting up at 8 am is already like sleeping in for me! I'm going to the same church I went to when I was studying abroad in Graz--the Pfingstgemeinde, the pentecostal church. Those of you who are familiar with my staid presbyterian background may be raising your eyebrows and the thought of me in a "charismatic" church; while some of it certainly is new to me, I have to say that I felt at home from the first time I visited. Back in 2003 when I first visited the church, my German was still a work in progress, but somehow I was able to understand every word of my first sermon. The people were friendly and ranged in age from 2 months to 92 years, and I immediately felt at home. It was fun to show up at the Pfingstgemeinde a few weeks ago and see all of those familiar faces...and even more fun to see those familiar faces light up with recognition when they had no idea I was back in Austria! I've also joined a small group of students and younger working people that meets on Wednesday nights, with a surprising number (the majority, actually) of internationals.

Sundays are probably the best days for my German. I start speaking and hearing only German from morning till night, and Sundays are consequently my "on" days. So much so, in fact, that my first Sunday there I was mistaken for someone from Graz! As high and wonderful a compliment as that was, it set the standard wayyyy too high, so it can really only get worse from there! It totally made my day though. After church, I usually end up eating lunch with a group of people--either going out to a restaurant (cheap China buffet for €3,88 anyone??) or someone's home for lunch. After eating a warm and satisfying meal, we'll usually take a walk...and then suddenly it's Sunday evening already! For me, this is the ideal way to spend a Sunday...and since I don't work on Mondays, there's no pressure to get home and start getting ready for work!

Monday

Mondays are usually spent in preparation for Tuesday's lessons. It is on Monday that I start panicking about not having prepared a lesson plan sooner, and why did I wait until the last minute AGAIN, and what in the world am I going to teach on this week?! Since my only guidelines are to share American culture and to get the students to speak in English, I can basically do anything I want. One Monday I brainstormed a long list of topics that I think will last me through the year. So now I can just go to that list, figure out what I want to talk about, and start preparing a lesson. But this is where the time/suitcase analogy really comes into play. I can begin preparing a lesson at 10 am on a Monday and not finish it until midnight (i.e., like last Monday). Or, I can begin working on a lesson at 6 pm and not finish it until midnight. Since I have an infinite number of resources and activities at my fingertips (what did teachers do before the internet?!), I can spend hours and hours trying to find the perfect resources for the lesson and trying to organize the class to fit perfectly into a 50-minute time frame. At some point, I'm learning, I just have to call it quits and go with what I have. However, I must say, my lesson plans are still totally rockin'.

Tuesday and Wednesday

On Tuesdays and Wednesdays I teach. Waking up at 6 am puts me in a good spot for a nap after I get home, around 2:30 or 3. I always tell myself that it won't be necessary to set the alarm, and then I always amaze myself that it's suddenly 5 or 6 and I still can't drag myself out of bed. I may meet up with friends in the late afternoon or evening, and usually I end up tweaking the lesson again. I keep telling myself that the afternoons after class are a good time to catch up on emails and letter-writing (again, sorry to those who are still waiting for a reply!) but usually I'm too tired to get around to the things I've been meaning to get around to. It's a cop-out answer, but I'm usually so tired from getting up early on Tuesdays and Wednesdays that I'm not good for much the rest of the day. My sudden need for sleep makes me feel like an old lady already, but I'm ok with that...

Thursday

Thursday I'm off again. This is the day I'll try to meet up with friends, go into the city, and enjoy the weather if it's nice. I can run errands like grocery shopping or going to the post office, and generally my room will need cleaning about this time too. Thursdays, ideally, are my "people days"--the days I'd like to have lunch/coffee/etc with the friends I've been trying to catch up with during the week.

Friday

Fridays I work, but then the weekend begins. Oftentimes there is some cool activity happening after work (some sort of festival, a visit to a chocolate factory perhaps, maybe lunch somewhere), and I forfeit my afternoon nap. I'm also looking into dancing lessons in anticipation of the upcoming ball season ("ball" as in Cinderella-lost-her-slipper-at-a-ball kind of ball!!) and these lessons will most likely fall on a Friday. Another great day for catching up with friends, Fridays are usually spent out and about. I could (and do, sometimes) wander about aimlessly in Graz for hours (aren't predestrian-friendly European cities great?!), which is an activity I somehow never seem to tire of. It's beautiful, it's interesting, it's historical, there are infinite cafes to wander into, there are woods and hills to climb...the possibilities are endless!

Saturday

Saturday is ripe with opportunities. If I go away for the weekend, it's the starting point for a weekend excursion. It's a great day for a Buschenschank, for example. Or a trip up to the mountains. Or... You get the point.

So although I can't exactly pinpoint how I spend my time, it is time well-spent. And it's definitely of the pack-to-fit philosophy...I have some other goals and activities for the year, and I'll just slip them nicely into the cracks.

And I leave you with a few more interesting anecdotes from school...

• In one of my earlier blog entries, I described the lesson plan about the controversial concert. The students were given a roll play in which they held a town meeting to decide whether the controversial band should be allowed to play in Weiz, and each student had a particular opinion on the subject. In one group I was observing, the town mayor was describing how he was in favor of the concert because of the business it would bring in and the people it would draw from the surrounding areas. He explained, "I want the band to come to Weiz because it will bring more terrorism..." There was dead silence, and then his group (and I [on the inside]) started to laugh hysterically. Realizing his mistake, he quickly added, "Uh, TOURISM! I mean tourism!"
• In another lesson on money and how Americans spend their money, I passed around some dollars and coins, and then we looked at a pie graph where the students had to guess what percentage of the American income is spent on which expenses (housing, recreation, food, transportation, etc.). After this exercise, they were given a text on how Americans actually use their money--things such as, 54% of Americans use coins as makeshift screwdrivers, 7% use them to even out table legs, etc. When going through the new vocab, none of the students knew the word "makeshift". But I found a fantastic resource in television, because they ALL knew of MacGyver, and so they were all able to understand the term "makeshift" when I gave them MacGyver (the king of makeshift!) as an example!
• This week I walked into a classroom after the break, and there was a student with a can of tobacco out on his desk, rolling his own cigarettes in class! I just stared at him, amazed at his (talent and) nerve. We were about to leave for an excursion anyway, but it amazed me that the teacher didn't say a thing!
• This week I got found out. Officially, I know no German. This is what the teachers want me to tell the students, so that they don't get lazy and think that they can start speaking in German or that I'll translate words for them. However, I always speak with the teachers in German, and sometimes they'll speak to me in the hallways and other places where the students are likely to overhear. I've often wondered why they do that if I'm not supposed to understand a word of German... A couple of weeks ago, I got to chaperone a field trip to see "The Bourne Ultimatum" in English. (Not bad, huh?!) There, they spoke to me in German again, but they kids were so rowdy they didn't seem to hear. This week there was a school outing to see a film on drug abuse, and again the teachers were speaking German to me. But this time, there was a kid from one of my classes sitting two seats down, and apparently he was listening in on the conversation. When I got to class yesterday, he announced, "Rebecca lied to us!" Not being the first time this class thought I'd lied to them--apparently they thought that Honor Codes in American schools were also a lie to scare Austrian pupils into not cheating--the teacher asked him why he thought that. "Because I heard her speaking to Mr. So-and-So. She speaks perfect German!" I was forewarned before I got to class, but during their groupwork this kid approached me, asking if I can speak German. I skirted around his question ("What makes you think that?") but he insisted that he's heard me speaking perfect German and that now everybody knows because he told them. I think that was supposed to me some sort of threat, but it had me laughing on the inside! But I just avoided the question, asking if he had a relevant question and that I could answer any questions for him on the topic at hand. ...I'm such a bad liar!...

P.S. Stay tuned to Flickr for some pictures of the amazing fall colors! It's kitchy, but I have to say it...the hills are alive! :)

Rebecca and the Chocolate Factory

Ever since I was little, I've loved "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory". The old version with Gene Wilder was a movie I never tired of, and I could sing every last song (including the many varieties of oompah-loompah songs) by heart. Whenever I watched the film, I had fantasies of being able to visit such an intriguing and enchanting Candyland, and I envied the child actors that actually got to do so! I was always torn between wanting to be Violet and Veruca--Violet got to roll around in a big blueberry suit (which looked like a lot of fun!), but Veruca definitely got the best song ("I Want It Now"). It was a tough call.

Last Friday I got as close as I'll ever be to living out these fantasies. The Zotter Chocolate Factory, located in southeast Styria in the town of Riegersburg, is just a quick car ride away from the school where I'm teaching. My amazingly perceptive supervising teacher had the insight to realize that an excursion to the chocolate factory was just what we'd need on a Friday afternoon. So last Friday after the last class was over, we drove on out to Riegersburg with great eagerness and eyes that were most certainly bigger than our stomachs. On the ride up, my eyes were glued to the window and the breathtaking Austrian countryside. I am contantly awed by the landscape here, and it became clear to me during the trip up to the chocolate factory that I'd be quite content with life if all I had was a car and enough gas to aimlessly drive all through Austria. As we drove up the hill into Riegersburg, the Riegersburg castle rose to greet us. Set up upon a cliff, it really is quite majestic and intimidating (in a picturesque sort of way); owned by the family Liechtenstein--as in the country of Liechtenstein--this castle seems to fit the nobility to which it belongs.

We arrived at the Zotter Chocolate Factory to find an unimposing but modern facade. Our 90 minute tour was about to begin, so I tore myself (and my camera) away from the countryside and the funny woolly cows to head inside. We were greated by the tour guide as we entered, and we gave our names at the desk--reservations are necessary here so that they're not overwhelmed by hoardes of Willy Wonka fans like myself. First off, we were given a spoon--the kind like you'd get for soup at a Chinese restaurant--and told to enter the Chocolate Theater. Puzzling over the funky spoons in our hands, we entered the theater and began the tour with a short video of South American farmers explaining their work and their lives as cocoa bean harvesters. The Zotter Chocolate Factory produces entirely organic and eco-friendly chocolates, and they are also heavily involved with environmental preservation and saving the animals. Thus, we learned about both bean harvesting and standards, and also about what a fine and conscientious man Mr. Zotter is to work for. It was rather amusing to see the Spanish subtitled into German though...I mean, it totally makes sense, but my mind was swimming with all the languages!

After the film, we were led into the first portion of the factory where the beans are cleaned, refined, and made into a cocoa-y sludge. As the tour guide explained the process, I stared down in wonder at the real-life oompah loompahs as they scurried from big chocolate machine to big chocolate machine. Rather than orange-faced midgets with green hair and cute little overalls, my real-life oompah loompahs were dressed in immaculate white (...which, for me anyway, would be such a disastrous color to wear around liquid chocolate...) and tended to shiny white machines with shiny white labels on shiny white floors. I tore myself away from this little daydream just in time to hear the tour guide inviting us to sample some cocoa from the chocolate fountain in the middle of the room. It was a beautiful chocolate fountain, with a rich and velvetly-looking cascade of chocolate coming out the top. As I'd been daydreaming about Oompah Loompah Land, I missed the part where he told us that this was 100% cocoa--that is, 100% ground up cocoa bean mush without any other additives. My heaping spoonful betrayed my inattention, and I didn't catch on when the other tour-goers gave my spoon a skeptical glance. Instead, I ignorantly indulged in a heaping spoonful. My reaction was immediate--my face contorted from the bitterness, and my mouth puckered as my tongue suddenly assumed the sensation that it was made of cardboard. And of course, of course, this was captured on film by my amused companions!

From this section we were led to a new room of chocolate fountains. Wary as one of Pavlov's dogs, I approached these fountains with a touch more caution. This room demonstrated the different types of chocolate--from 10% cocoa on up to 100%. After a brief explanation of the role and strength of cocoa in the chocolate manufacturing process, we were once again invited to use our spoons and sample from the fountains. Having wised up, this time I began at the end of the line--with the 100% cocoa chocolate--and worked my way down to the very sweet 10% option. I found that with 80%, the chocolate became tolerable, but with 70% it was first enjoyable.

From there, we got to see how all of the chocolate bars are cut by hand and turned into the finished product--all by hand! Having seen this process through from beginning to end, we were then taken through yet a few more sections where we were invited to sample the chocolates. In one room, we were invited to try the Trink-Schokolade, or Drink-Chocolate. Essentially, this Trink-Schokolade is a special type of chocolate melted in warm milk to make a sort of specialty hot chocolate. Overlooking the beautiful Austrian countryside, assorted shots of Trink-Schokolade came out on a conveyor belt and circled the rooms on a little pulley system--totally something out of "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory"! In the next room we were invited to sample an assortment of chocolate-covered things from rotating copper basins. All sorts of chocolate-covered things. There was your usual chocolate-covered cashew or blueberry or ginger root, but there were some truly odd flavors as well. By far the most bizarre (and alarming!) flavor was Zimt-Grammeln, or Cinnamon-and-unmelted-residue-left-after-animal-fat-has-been-rendered. ...Did you get that?? Yeah, it was chocolate-covered, cinnamon-flavored dried-up animal fat!! ...Those Austrians!

Finally, our tour ended with the chocolate bar sampling. As if we hadn't had enough chocolate already, we came out near the factory store, where a conveyor belt brought samples of different chocolate bars and we could take and sample as we pleased. It probably took about 10 minutes for all of the different flavors to travel by, and since it was dangerously close to the chocolate factory store, I was unable to get out of there without buying a few bars myself. A sucker to the fantastic marketing ploys, I didn't feel too guilty about my purchases since the flavors were both insanely unique and astonishingly good. Among the most interesting flavors available were: Pinapple and Pepper, Banana Curry, Pepper and Mint, Rose and Basil, Tofu and Sake, and India Masala. And the three types that I came out with were Pinapple Cashew (there are no words to describe the bliss that is Pinapple Cashew chocolate), Lemon Polenta (also an indescribable and tasty treat), and Hot Chicken Ensemble (I was mostly taken with the name of this one, but it's made with egg liquer, yummm).

Surprisingly, I wasn't sick to my stomach. I did a good job of pacing myself and didn't reach the point where I thought I might turn into Violet Beauregarde and explode. And that, I believe, signals the success of Rebecca and the Chocolate Factory. The Zotter Chocolate Factory is definitely going high on my list of places to take any visitors to Austria--and to see this trip in pictures, check out my Flickr link to the right!

Three Fundamental Reasons Why Austria is an Amazing Place to be in the Fall

Austria is an amazing place to be. Period. But there are some particularly wonderful things that are uniquely Austrian and strictly seasonal. I would like to dedicate this post to three unique aspects of autumn in Austria...if I happen to entice you for a visit this time of year, then so be it...

Maroni

In October, Maroni Ständl spring up in the streets if Graz. All at once, these roasted chestnut stands appear in every plaza and on every corner, advertising "Heisse Maroni", or hot roasted chestnuts. Until coming to Austria the first time, roasted chestnuts were--to me--just a thing of song. However, "chestnuts roasting on an open fire and Jack Frost nipping at my nose" instantly exits the realm of the theoretical and becomes a full sensory experience when in Austria in the fall.

Chestnuts come into season in October and remain throughout the winter months. Stands are erected throughout the city, and hot roasted chestnuts are sold by the 1/4 liter in newspaper cones. These stands (typically a "Styrian" green, like in the photo above) have a large, covered metal roaster, where chestnuts are continually roasted throughout the day. Once roasted, the steaming hot chestnuts are scooped up and poured into an opening in the stand, where they are then covered with a thick insulating blanket. When you order Maroni, the blanket is pulled back, your chestnuts are scooped out into a measuring cup, and they are then served in a newspaper cone. (See photo above. Note: that is NOT my hand!)

The smell of Maroni fills the streets. It is a sweet, nutty smell that is reminiscent of everything fall, and it brings a sort of nostalgia similar to the smell of burning leaves. Ideally, I would upload some sort of scratch-and-sniff application to my blog so that you could experience it for yourself, but alas, I'm still working out the kinks. When eaten warm (and still steamy!), maroni have a soft, pleasant texture and a neutral taste that borders on sweetness and mild walnuty-ness. The ubiquitous presence of Maroni stands in the city allows for a warm and comforting €2 snack for quite a few months out of the year.


Sturm


Also amazing and wonderful is Sturm, a drink that is only available in the fall. This drink is the immature byproduct of the winemaking process (available, like wine, in both red and white), and it occurs halfway between nonalcoholic grape juice and fully fermented wine. Like cider with an alcoholic punch, Sturm is served cold and is refreshingly sweet and easy to drink. Austrians will advise Sturm novices to take their first Sturm easy, as its effects can sneak up on you if you're not used to this drink. Sturm is available only in the fall because it coincides with wine season. The fascinating thing about this drink is that it is still continuing to ferment--constantly--and has a very short shelf life. Grape juice becomes Sturm when the yeast is added and the sugar ferments to become 4% alcohol. Once it reaches an alcoholic content of 4%, it may be sold as Sturm until it continues to ferment and reaches an alcoholic content of 10%. Sturm may be purchased in restuarants, Buschenschanks (see below), or in the grocery store, but it must be consumed quickly. When buying Sturm in the grocery store, you must be careful when choosing your bottle, as it is left open to allow for the continual fermentation of the drink; if sealed shut, the fermenting yeast will build up pressure and cause the bottle to explode. Sturm must be drunk within a few days of purchase, as it also continues to build up a yeast-y sediment that settles in the bottom of the bottle; whoever gets the last glass has to be careful not to get a mouthful of yeast-crud with it!

Unfortunately Sturm season is drawing to a close, but I try to order it whenever I'm out so that I can fully take advantage of this unique and tasty drink.

Buschenschanks

The Austrian Buschenshank is another staple of fall, though they do exist year-round. Found only in the countryside, a Buschenschank is an vineyard establishment that makes and serves all of its own wines and foods. Only cold foods are served here; to accompany the wine (or Sturm) you can order various salads, cold cuts, cheeses, and spreads--all served with fresh homemade bread. Apparently 80% of Austria's wines are consumed in Buschenschanks and other family-owned establishments, before ever reaching the market. It is a very common excursion to hike through the hills to a Buschenschank and then rest a bit with some food and wine before heading back.

Last weekend I went on an impromptu excursion into southern Styria to a Buschenschank. We parked the car and then hiked through the wooded hills into the countryside. It was a cool and cloudy day, but the scenery was beautiful. When we arrived at the Buschenschank, we chose a table that was literally in the vinyard and sat down to our drinks and foods. After out rest and a short wander through the rows and rows of wine grapes, we headed back to the car with a renewed appreciation for this particular Austrian tradition. I am now a huge fan of the Buschenschank, and I could be convinced at any time to make another excursion. Any takers?

(For complete Buschenschank-excursion photos, please see the Flickr link to the right.)

So...

These are just three reasons why coming to Austria in the fall is highly recommended. (Hint, hint, nudge, nudge.) And there will be more exciting tales of Austrian excursions coming soon!

I really should be working on my next lesson plan...

...but this is a good distraction. Watching this clip again is good motivation to get back to work on tomorrow's lesson! Enjoy!!

P.S. Thank you, thank you, thank you to all of you who have sent lesson plan suggestions, links, ideas, etc! I am very grateful and am collecting these ideas to use them during the year! Feel free to keep 'em coming! :)

Getting into the Flow...My 2nd Week of Teaching

* Me with my first-ever lesson plan!

I am happy to report that I survived my second week of teaching with all of the wonderful momentum of my first week. With my dignity still intact, my creativity stretched, and my pantomime skills sharpened, I have found that I really really dig this new gig of mine.

After the first week, I knew I'd have some repeat classes and I would need to have an actual lesson plan. This was the really daunting part, since (as I mentioned before) my only instructions are: a) to get the students to speak; and b) teach them about American culture. This is soooo open-ended. Since I am assigned no particular topic, subject, or time frame, I can only assume that I have the whole lesson to teach about whatever I deem worthy of attention. Having never made anything close to a lesson plan before, I was totally stumped.

This is where my wonderful roommates come in. Not only am I blessed to live in a fantastic apartment with a couple of fantastic girls, but it just so happens that they're both English teachers! My American roommate, a friend from my study abroad days in Graz, just finished her second year as an English Teaching Assistant with the Fulbright exchange. My other roommate, an Austrian, speaks perfect British English and teaches English (and Spanish) at a local high school in Graz. As I'm still new to the world of education, they are both awesome resources as I flounder and flop through my first lessons.

The night before my second week began, I sat in front of my computer, frantically searching for material on the internet or in the resources provided in the training week (at the castle!) from which I could make a lesson. After 1.5 hours of this, I finally went to my roommates and pleaded for help. Together with their ideas and direction I made a ROCKIN' lesson plan about concerts. It was the *perfect* lesson plan: it was on a topic that interests the boys (bands, concerts), and it involved brainstorming (a great opportunity for the students to just shout out any words they want from their seats--yelling things out is always a good activity for them), a text (both practical for the new vocabulary and interesting, since it was about a riot after a cancelled punk rock concert), and a role play (they had to hold a town meeting to decide if Slipknot [their band of choice] comes to Weiz, presenting the view of the teenager/grandparent/local businessman/etc. The students were very creative with the activity, and it was a HUGE success, both among students and teachers. I never could have pulled it off without the help of my roommates. And since it was such a huge success, it completely motivated me to come up with more totally amazing lesson plans!

At the end of my second week, several of the teachers asked me how I was enjoying teaching so far. "So far, so good" was the general vein of my reply...actually, I'm fantastically enthusiastic about this year, but it *was* only the second week. It suprises me, but I feel like I'm a natural when I'm up there at the front of the classroom. Like it may actually be the perfect fit. That this teaching thing might stick. Granted, what I do is by no means they same as being a "real" teacher (I don't have to grade papers, discipline students, etc.), but it's a good crash course. And with positive feedback from both the students and the teachers, I know I'm on the right track.

I did some brainstorming for future lesson plans, and I realized that I am badly in need of interesting materials from America. And this is where YOU can help me out! I would be über-happy to receive any of the following:

• To my teacher friends: I would LOVE anything having to do with American schools, especially high schools. I tried writing my old high school to ask for materials, but I never heard back. Anything like hall passes, detention slips, class schedules, student handbooks, honor codes (honor codes especially: Austrian students didn't believe me when I told them that Americans don't cheat--they thought I was making up the idea of an honor code to scare them...there's a whole cheating culture/system here...), lists of clubs/extracurricular activities, etc.
• Sports: Actually, here I am open to both materials and advice. The students (being almost all boys) really want to learn about American sports. I know nothing about American sports. Ideas and any sort of sports paraphernalia welcome!
• Fast Food: Fast Food will make a great lesson. They have fast food here of course, but even the McDonald's choices are different. Maybe fast food menus/nutritional information/etc.
• New York City: New York friends, here is where you come in! I would love to make a lesson about NYC. For this, I would be greatly appreciative of subway maps (several--enough to split the class into groups so they can work with the maps), Metrocards, brochures for touristy things or free events around the city, and anything else that may come to you in a brilliant brainwave that is "typical New York."
• Jobs: I thought I'd also do a lesson on teenage jobs. For this, I would love love love to have some sample job applications! So next time you're at the mall or a fast food place or wherever else teenagers might work and you see a "Now Hiring" sign, think of me and pick up an application? :)

I would, of course, be happy to provide my address again to whoever may need it. And there would, of course, be Thank You postcards. Oh, and I also get free international text messaging with my new plan, so if you might ever want to get a text from me, you can send me your number! Thanks so much!

Ms. Teacher Lady

I walked into my first week of teaching having no idea what to expect. I had met up with my supervising teacher before school started and had a chance to get to know her, learn a little more about the school and the students, and ask any questions I may have had. It was fantastic to meet with her and get an idea of what to expect before I showed up on my first day, but I was still left with the impression that this teaching thing would be terribly open-ended.

What I did learn before I arrived at the school for the first time...

- My schedule is amazing. No, it's more than amazing! I am to teach 12 hours a week, but by "hours" I really mean 50-minute class periods. These 12 hours are broken down into 3 days. Yes, that's right, I teach 3 days a week, 4 hours a day. My teaching days are not, alas, all in a row, but I really can't complain: I teach Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Fridays--this still gives me a 3-day weekend every week and a day in the middle to recover from the first 2 days of teaching.

- I'll be at the HTL in Weiz until Christmas, then at the BORG in Birkfeld in January, and then back at the HTL in the springtime to finish out the schoolyear. This is rather nice because it means I can stick to one school for one big chunk of time. It'll be much easier than juggling the two schools at once.

- I can carpool to the HTL with my supervising teacher. She lives in my neighborhood in Graz, which makes carpooling super-duper easy--I just stand in front of the bakery 2 minutes from my apartment, and she arrives in the car to pick me up!

- The HTL is 95% male. Um...did you catch that? Yeah, the school I'm teaching in consists of 95% teenage boys!

My first day...

I arrived at the school on my first day and was promptly given my new (and wonderful) schedule. School starts at 7:50 am, and in Austria it's the teacher that goes to the class, rather than the class that comes to the teacher. Rather than having their own classrooms, Austrian teachers are given a seat at a table in the teacher's lounge, and this is where they may leave their personal belongings, make copies, etc. Consequently, it makes the teacher's lounge a very hectic place to be, since most teachers are running around like chickens with their heads cut off, trying to leave materials from one class and gather materials for the next class, before rushing off to the next classroom full of expectant young teenage boys. This teacher's lounge, as crowded and chaotic as it may be, does have several "ups"...there's an excellent coffee machine that makes freshly ground coffee, and a mini-fridge stocked with soda, juice, and beer (how Austrian is that?!) to enjoy between classes.

Students in Austrian schools are not allowed to wear street shoes in the building, so they all must where slippers while in school. Austrians are very big on slippers anyway: you don't wear your shoes inside the house in Austria, and there is always a nice big basket with assorted sizes of slippers for any visitors or guests who come to your home. In the schools it's very much the same--the students must all change into their slippers after they come in to school, and the teachers are very strict about enforcing this rule on any miscreant who decides his Pumas pass the test. As a teacher, you have the privilege to choose your own footwear. However, most teachers opt to wear their street shoes as a visible sign of authority. As I understand it, the whole idea behind the slippers is to keep the schools cleaner longer, thereby cutting down on cleaning costs.

Students here stand when a teacher enters the classroom. Once all are standing and silence is achieved (which can sometimes take awhile), the students are given permission to sit. Then the lesson begins, and a normal day in a normal Austrian school begins.

I arrived on my first day with a general introductory lesson that I hoped would suffice. I was given no direction on what I should do with the kids, and as far as I knew, I had the whole class period to fill. I knew my audience (teenage boys), and I was a little intimidated about little ole shy Rebecca getting up in front of rowdy, critical teenage boys and pretending she knew how to teach. However, the moment I was introduced in my first class and told to go ahead and give my lesson, I was possessed of a strange confidence that both consumed me and surprised me. From that moment on, I stood in front of the classroom as if I OWNED it. I was confident, and I was energetic, and I spoke in a booming teacher-voice that was not my own. The booming teacher-voice caught me quite by surprise as well--my entire life, whenever I have had to speak in front of any number of people, I have always been told that I am speaking too softly. But standing up in front of the classroom, it was as if the volume couldn't be turned down. This "Teacher Rebecca" was a phenomenon I was totally unprepared for.

My introductory lesson...

I'd prepared an introductory lesson to suit my audience: before I told the students anything about myself, I would put 4 sentences on the board--3 of the statements were true, and one of the statements was false, and the students had to ask me questions to figure out which one was the false statement. Then we would take a vote when they thought they knew which one it was.

I tried to pick sentences that would be exciting (and, who are we kidding, also somewhat impressive) to young men:

• I helped the police in Colorado catch a drug dealer.


• I was once on the Romanian evening news when they talked about terrrorism.


• I broke my ankle while rock climbing in Colorado.


• I've gone diving in Australia with sharks and sting rays the size of Smart cars.

Every time I gave this introduction, there were audible reactions as I read the statements aloud. The students really loved it--they asked questions such as: Are you a terrorist? Do you know any drug dealers? Are you scared of sharks? Where did you go climbing? Have you ever been on TV? Have you ever been in jail?

Then we would vote. A couple classes got it right and guessed that me breaking my ankle was the false one. One class even asked enough questions to figure out that I helped the police in Colorado catch a drug dealer quite unintentionally through a car accident. After this activity, I would introduce myself, tell the class a little about who I am and where I'm from, and then open it up to Q&A for the rest of the class period.

Q&A Highlights...

During the Q&A I gave them permission to ask me anything about myself or my country. There were a few questions that were common to all classes:

• What do you think of Bush / the war in Iraq?


• Where do you go out in Graz?


• How old are you?


• What do you think of Austria?


• What is your favorite alcoholic drink? (N.b.: At first I was really uncomfortable talking about alcohol with these kids because it didn't seem like the kind of thing that'd be appropriate to talk about in an American high school, but then I had to remind myself that these kids are already allowed to drink. Weird.)


• Have you ever gone on Spring Break? (Apparently these guys think that all American students "go on Spring Break" in Miami or Cancun.)


• Can you speak German? (The official answer is "no", or "not really, but maybe I'll learn more this year.")


• Why are Americans fat? / Do you like McDonald's?

There were, of course, certain moments where I made an utter fool of myself during the Q&A. However, this can be a very effective teaching tool.

At one point, I was asked what I thought of the German language. I gave an honest answer: I used to think that it sounded like hocking up a hairball, but now I think it's quite a beautiful language. Not all that surprisingly, the students had no idea what "hocking up a hairball" meant. So I stood in front of the class and explained what happens when a cat licks itself and swallows too much hair, culminating in a grand reinactment of Teacher Rebecca demonstrating what it is to, as they say, "hock up a hairball."

Another class asked me about my hobbies. Among the things I mentioned was swing dancing, which is not really to be found in Austria. The students didn't know what swing dancing was, so I explained that it was dancing from the 1930s and 1940s, danced to Big Band music. Someone from the back of the class shouted out, "Can you show us?" Having already established a precident for making a fool of myself in the Hairball Class, I obliged the student in the back and chose to demonstrate a good dance for one person: the Charleston. I demonstrated '20s Charleston and then regular Charleston, explaining a little bit of each. Then the class burst into spontaneous applause, and--I'm sorry to say--I spontaneously bobbed down into a curtsey.

In another class, when asked why I liked Austria so much, I explained to them that I thought it was a very beautiful country. Especially the drive from Graz to Weiz every morning--it's 60 km of hairpin turns, but it's gorgeous all the way. I told the class how pretty it was, and how I really enjoyed the sight of the "mist rising up from the hills" every morning. At first the class looked wide-eyed and shocked. Then they broke out into loud and uproarious laughter. The teacher, looking lightly scandalized, asked me, "Do you know what you just said??" It was then that I realized my poor word choice: "Mist" in German means "animal poo" (to put it more politely), and I had given the entire class a mental image of poo hovering above the hills!!

All in all...

All in all, it was an excellent first week. I left a good impression on the teachers and got some really positive feedback. The teachers I work with are all wonderful and supportive and really nice, which will make working there a really good experience.

There is an excellent book by Frank McCourt (author of "Angela's Ashes") called "Teacher Man." I read this book before I realized I would be a teacher, but now I can tell that it is going to be very influential upon Teacher Rebecca. The third book of his memoir series, "Teacher Man" tells the story of how Frank McCourt survived 30 years of teaching in New York City public schools by telling his students stories...when nothing else could motivate them or grab their attention, he told them stories of his childhood in Ireland. This led to his eventual writing of "Angela's Ashes", a memoir of his early years in Ireland, which won the Pulitzer Prize and became a movie.

I can see myself shaping up to be that teacher who tells stories...and dances....and hocks up hairballs. It's going to be an intriguing year.

Of the Bundes-Oberstufenrealgymnasium and Höhere technische Bundeslehranstalt...

...Did you catch that? Right, maybe I should repeat myself. I have been assigned to teach in two different schools: a Bundes-Oberstufenrealgymnasium and a Höhere technische Bundeslehranstalt. But you know, those crazy long German words are just so much fun to say, I'll repeat myself one more time so that it will really sink in. Next time you're speaking of me in conversation (which, naturally, must happen quite often) and the other person asks you how Rebecca is doing and if you've heard from her, you can say, "Oh, she's doing great! She's teaching at the Bundes-Oberstufenrealgymnasium and a Höhere technische Bundeslehranstalt."

Admittedly, that might take some practice before it will roll gracefully off the tongue. I arrived at our week of training at Schloß St. Martin (Schloß=castle) without really being able to utter those words. By the end of the week, not only could I say them like I'd grown up attending the Bundes-Oberstufenrealgymnasium or the Höhere technische Bundeslehranstalt, but I knew the acronyms that people use in order to save precious conversational minutes. The Bundes-Oberstufenrealgymnasium, or BORG as it is most commonly known, is an upper-grades public high school where the students will take their exit exams (Matura) and then be able to attend college. The Höhere technische Bundeslehranstalt, or HTL, is a public high school that focuses on technical skills, and those students will go on to do apprenticeships to become mechanical engineers and the like. I have been placed in the HTL until Christmas, and will be working at a BORG focused on music and the arts starting in January.

The Austrian secondary school system is radically different from that in the US, and would require an entire post dedicated to explaining the intricate ins and outs of the educational system. For now, let's just suffice it to say that by the age of 10, an Austrian student has to choose which secondary school to attend, and the secondary school is specific to a particular career path and determines whether you may one day attend university. It's a totally different system, and I'm still struggling to understand which schools do what. But I've got the BORG and the HTL totally pegged!

During our training week in the pretty yellow castle (for more emphasis that we had training in a castle, please see photo above--it's the pretty yellow castle on the hill), we attendended seminars aimed at total novices to teaching (which was most of us) with such themes as: How You Should Talk in a Classroom, What Austrian Teachers Expect, Games, Basics of Organizing Classroom Activities, What Makes A Teacher a Good Teacher, and Difficult Classroom Situations. We were also educated on the basics of the Austrian school system and the history of the "U.S. Foreign Language Teaching Assistants at Austrian Secondary Schools - a program coordinated by the Fulbright Commission for the Austrian Ministry of Education, Science and Culture." (Yes, there IS such a ministry!) The Fulbright exchange has actually been around quite a long time--since roughly the first World War. Today, there are about 140 US teaching assistants in all of Austria, whose total salaries amount to about €1.3 Million, paid for by the Austrian government! This is a very generous salary, especially when you consider that we only work 12 hours a week. Just yesterday I learned that my 12 hours as a teaching assistant earns me the same monthly salary as someone who works 40 hours per week in the local grocery store. (Note: What we would consider "teenage" jobs in America, such as grocery stores, fast food, etc. are often held down by adults here. There's really no such concept as an after-school job, since Austrian students should be focused on their studies.) In fact, we are quite lucky that the program is still going, as it was almost forced to shut down this year when policy changes would have prohibitted Americans from being able to come; the policies changed such that Americans were no longer allowed to work without a residency permit, but they were not allowed to get a residency permit without already having a job! The Fulbright Commission came to our aid and petitioned the government to make some exceptions, or loopholes if you will, and after some long and bureaucratically tedious campaigning, the program was saved. Lucky us!

At the end of the week, I still had very little idea of what was expected of me as an English Teaching Assistant. That, I realized, I would have to play by ear and see what was expected of me when I arrived at the schools. But there was certainly one idea that was drilled into our heads: as the native speaker, I am the expert on anything. So if I come across with confidence, that's what really matters.

I did survive my first week of teaching, so stay tuned for stories of my first adventures in Education!