True People of the Book

It’s been a crazy week to belong to the People of the Book (a beautiful Islamic term referring to followers of the three major Abrahamic religions). Between the worst attack on Jews in the United States to riots after the release of a Christian woman in Pakistan, there has been ugliness on all sides. It’s nearly an unbroken circle. 

“Christian” man attacks Jewish community.

“Muslims” riot after a Christian is released after being charged with blasphemy (the courts evaluated the evidence and found it contradictory and insufficient). 

All we need is a “Jewish” person to attack some Muslims and the circle of evil will be complete. (Since the internet makes it easy for people to misunderstand... I do NOT want that to happen)

It would be easy to simply put one’s head in one’s hands and hide under a rock. But that would be to miss the other half of the story. 

After the attack on the Pittsburgh synagogue, two Muslim organizations in the USA raised over $200,000 to fund the funerals of the victims. In addition, they have shown support beyond money by offering to protect their neighbors if they felt unsafe. 

Beyond the fact that justice was given to Asia Bibi by the courts, both the government of Pakistan and average citizens have spoken out against the violence. Yes, her situation is not yet resolved, but this is a positive step.

It’s not only Muslims and Jews who have been true People of the Book this week. Christians both in Pittsburgh and across the world have spoken out in support of the Pittsburgh community. In a coincidence that could only be from a higher power, every Catholic Church through out the world will proclaim today, not once, but twice, the words of the Shema, or most important Jewish prayer, from the book of Deuteronomy. How beautiful that our cycle of readings would have this specific text for today. I had the privilege of proclaiming these sacred words during Mass this morning in Guatemala.

"Hear, O Israel! The LORD is our God, the LORD alone! 

Therefore, you shall love the LORD, your God,
with all your heart,
and with all your soul,
and with all your strength. 

Take to heart these words which I enjoin on you today."

This is what People of the Book believe. Whether we call Him Elohim, God, or Allah, we believe He is God, the only God. I am honored to stand with my brothers and sisters, People of the Book, today as we pray for peace and justice.

The long reaching fingers of rape culture

If you haven’t read this post, do that first. Second, I am fully aware of how lucky I’ve been. Yes, these “long reaching fingers” have touched me but so many women have had it so much worse.

The guy who proposed a few weeks ago is back. I took out many of the details from the original post but a few more are necessary now. I’ll call him Lee (not his real name). Lee approached me after Mass one Sunday in Lahore, this spring. I was polite but definitely not warm. Over the next few months, he would frequently try to talk to me after Mass. My body language should have been a clue about my lack of interest. It wasn’t. I didn’t share much about myself or my family. Each time, I tried to walk by hoping Lee wouldn’t notice me and I could get to my car without talking to him. I even started covering my head in church like most of the other women so my blonde hair wouldn’t stick out. None of it worked. I was glad when Ramadan came because it made moot his request to have dinner with me.

Then it was June and I was leaving Pakistan. I figured this would be the end of Lee in my life even though I did agree to his request about being friends on Facebook. Again, I was wrong. For awhile, the messages were short, albeit frequent. Mostly asking I was and how life was going. As in person, I tried to be polite but not encouraging. My short replies and long response time didn’t seem to send any messages to him about my lack of interest.

Around late August, things started getting more intense. First, Lee asked if he could talk to me. I ignored it. Then, he proposed. I was shocked. My response was that I didn’t even know him really and I definitely didn’t feel the same. He then tried to impress me with his research of the town where I grew up. His messages wouldn’t stop despite my constant replies that I wasn’t interested. Eventually, I told him there was no chance and I was going to unfriend him on Facebook since he wouldn’t leave me alone. What followed was five weeks where he was completely out of my mind. Until yesterday.

I’ve woken up the past two days to messages from Lee. Yesterday he asked me how I was and how life was in Guatemala. I didn’t respond. This morning he said, “I know you’re angry with me. I apologize forgive me please rose.” Ironically, I wasn’t angry until he contacted me again.

So what does this have to do with rape culture?! Lee, like so many guys, won’t believe me when I say, “NO.” He believes that because he has feelings for me, I owe him something. Maybe not consciously, but that’s what his actions reveal. If he asks enough times, he thinks I will fall madly in love with him and want to spend the rest of my life with him.

And, in a twisted way, he could even try to blame me. After all, I was nice to him (because I don’t like to be rude). I dressed attractively (because the lose, lightweight traditional clothes in Pakistan are so darn comfortable). I kept going to church where he would see me (because the time was most convenient for me). I let him find me on Facebook (because, again, I can be too nice for my own good). Despite the message sent by my body language, short replies, long response time, trying to avoid him in person, multiple messages saying I’m not attracted to him, blunt demand that he not contact me, and unfriending him on Facebook, Lee STILL doesn’t believe that I mean it when I say, “NO.”

Rape doesn’t happen out of nowhere. It doesn’t happen in a vacuum. It comes from an attitude that because a guy has feelings for a woman or girl, she owes him something. It comes from the attitude that “No doesn’t really mean no.” It comes from the attitude that “If I ask/bother/pressure her enough, no will become yes.” It comes from the idea that if a woman is seen living her life - be it wearing a shalwar kameez in a Pakistani Catholic Church or getting drunk in a miniskirt - she is “available and
willing” for whatever a guy wants. I don’t expect that Lee would go so far as to rape me even if he wasn’t thousands of miles away. The same cannot be said for every guy.

Lee’s not the first guy who has acted this way to me. Chances are highly likely , he won’t be the last. Yes, I’ve been blessed to have been barely brushed by these “long reaching fingers.” But why do they  have to touch any of us at all?

“But, but, but...” you might splutter, “I/my son/brother/etc would never rape someone.” Good. I hope not. However, do you accept no as an answer? Do you push (past a reasonable persistence... if you’re not sure, you’ve probably gone too far already) for a different response? Do you defend women when other guys are talking about us as if we owe them something? Do you believe women when say they’ve been assaulted or raped? Do you try to put the blame on the victim? Do you tell people it’s, “a scary time to be a guy,” because there is a chance that a few of the actually reported rapes (remember, the significant portion are never reported) are false despite the fact that, statistically
speaking, at least one of myself or my three sisters will be raped in our lives?

At the end of the day, I can talk or write until I’m blue in the face. So can every woman. It won’t make a difference. There is no appropriate way for us to act to avoid unwanted contact or pressure. The change must come from men. Until men accept that women don’t owe them anything, nothing will ever change. If you are a man who truly wants to support the women in your life, change starts with you. Stand up for us when others are discussing us as objects or we’re the topic of all too common “locker room talk,” no matter where it happens. I know there are good men out there. You can make a positive difference. For me. For my sisters. For my friends. For every woman who wishes it was possible for us to affect this desperately needed change.

High notes from this week

This week was jam packed with rehearsals and concerts. On Sunday we had a rehearsal then I was asked to learn a descant for one of the songs. Two cool things about the descant: it was for a song that I had first heard on one of Dolhai Atilla’s albums and it included the highest note I’ve ever performed   - G above high C! The concerts on Tuesday and Wednesday were great. I had a “nunc dimittis” moment on Wednesday when someone told me he could “die happy after hearing the descant.” As complimentary as that was, no dying is necessary 😂😂. Our final concert was Saturday night. I was worried because I woke up with a scratchy throat which has continued to get worse. Luckily, I was able to sing above it and the descant (and rest of the concert) was good. Or so people tell me... those notes always sound awful in my head. Now I’m ready to get extra sleep and rest my voice for the next week ... until rehearsals start for our Christmas concerts!

In the rest of my life, I’ve been struggling to catch up my class from when they were sick. I’m not used to being confined to a pacing calendar and it’s been stressful trying to double up lessons to rush through everything so I’m on the same page as the other teachers. It’s hard to feel like a good teacher when I have to rush through things even when I know the students are struggling to understand. I wish I had more time to help them really learn all of the topics.

Sawdust carpets, concerts, and the flu

Luckily, the flu wasn’t me. Unluckily, it was 13 of my 25 students. Ten of them were out at the same time two weeks ago. That’s left me playing catch up because of our strict pacing schedule. We are getting closer to being back on track but not there yet. Hopefully, by the end of this week we will be.

Guatemala celebrated Independence Day a week ago. One of the biggest parts of our school celebration was colorful carpets made out of sawdust. Each class made one with different decorations. Unfortunately, my iPad won’t let me post pictures right now. Hopefully, I can get that fixed tomorrow.

Finally, I’ve  been busy with choir. I’m in two different ones. Capella Cantorum had a concert the week before last, we sang for a wedding yesterday, and have three more concerts next week! The other choir is much more low key. We are getting ready for a Messiah concert in December but it’s easy for me since I’ve already sung it plenty of times.

A picture is worth a thousand words

Third Time’s Not a Charm

Sometimes the third time’s not a charm.

I’ve been proposed to three times.

The first, I was between three and five. A friend of my parents jokingly said he should marry me when I asked why he wasn’t married. The second was my freshman year in college. I was cast in a student-directed show and, at a party a few weeks before the performance, my on stage “husband” got totally smashed, staggered over to me, sat in my lap, and said we had to get married.

The third time was this past week. On Facebook messenger. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a joke like the first two. A mere acquaintance had decided he was in love with me and wanted to move half-way around the world to marry me. I didn’t accept.

Some suggestions for potential suitors (of me or anyone else).

1. Make sure your intended actually likes you. You should have spent quite a bit of time together talking and getting to know each other on a deep level. 
2. Do it in person. If you aren’t together in person enough for this to be possible, it’s probably not going to work.
3. Discuss life goals and dreams prior to proposing. Check that they are compatible or you have discussed possible compromises.
4. If your intended doesn’t respond favorably, it’s possible you misjudged the situation. Step back and check that suggestions 1-3 have been addressed. 

Of course, you can also feel free to ignore my suggestions and see what happens. After all, what do I know... I’m just someone who’s been proposed to thrice.

And I’ll Sing Once More...

Last Sunday, I wasn’t in any choirs here in Guate. This Sunday, I’m in one, a practice quartet for it, and should hear by tomorrow about a second choir I auditioned for today.

The group I’m in so far is a small ensemble (around 20 members) that sings mostly short a cappella pieces. We’re working on a Lauridsen piece, two Masses, and assorted Spanish language songs. The audition today was for a group that sings Messiah part 1 each year. The audition was fine except a mixup about what I had to bring. I wasn’t at fault (I had specifically asked about it ahead of time) but we’ll see if that keeps me out.

After a year and a half of no musically stimulating group to sing with, it’s great to be back in the swing of things!

Back to school and volunteering

The biggest events of the week were Back to School Night and a volunteer trip on Saturday.

It was great to see how much easier BtS was compared to previous years. It does get easier with time! One of my goals this year is to make more decisions and stick to them in the classroom rather than basing all my choices on what others do. Of course this only works for little things but I was very grateful for my resolution when a parent was complaining about our shared resources policy in the classroom. She went on and on about how unfair it was that her daughter has to leave her special pens at home. I stood my ground (I don’t care if she brings them but then they would be fair game for the whole class) even when she threatened to complain to administration about it. Seems a bit extreme to go to such lengths over a pen but what do I know? Vindication was sweet when another parent immediately piped in saying she thinks it’s a great policy. I left the two of them talking about it.

On Saturday, a group of other teachers and I went about an hour outside of the city to volunteer with an organization which is providing support for families displaced by the volcano. We spent the morning sorting and arranging clothes and other donated supplies. It was hot and tiring but good to be helping. I’m sure I’ll go again in the future.

Misadventures ... or Massadventures?

I had quite an experience going to Mass this morning. There were times and places mixed up, wishing I didn’t understand parts of the Spanish, and judgements made.

It all began when I walked into the church parking lot at 9:20. I was startled to see the outside overflow seating full until I read the sign with times and remembered that Mass in English was actually at 10:30 not 9:30. No problem. I walked home and had an avocado/pineapple/peach smoothie before returning. Have I mentioned how amazing the produce is here?

An hour later I was back. Below the listing of the Mass in English is a Mass for children twice a month.  I didn’t think anything of it because it’s every other week and two weeks ago Mass was in English and just happened to have more kids. It quickly became clear that this was something else entirely. There were tons of kids - awesome - it’s great to see lots of kids at Mass.

Then the opening song started and things went downhill fast. The lyrics of the opening song had a refrain which translated to “the Mass is a party for Jesus.” Say what? At this point, I also noticed that I had left my phone at home so I didn’t even have my Mass app for the Spanish translations. Unfortunately, it didn’t get better. While I appreciate the priest’s explanations to help the kids understand, a totally improvised opening prayer, skipping the second reading altogether, and having a lay woman start the gospel so Fr. could read only Jesus’s words were less than desirable. The homily involved kids holding signs with words about Jesus as the Bread of Life as well as a loaf of bread and a ciborium of (please God) unconcecrated altar bread. The priest kept asking leading questions to the altar boys on either side of him... which they couldn’t answer. At least it was clearly connected to the readings. When the homily was over and we moved immediately into the Prayer of the Faithful (skipping the Profession of Faith entirely), I finally leaned over to the woman next to me and asked what time Mass was in English. It turned out to be happening concurrently in another chapel. I hesitated then left to find it. I figured, at worst, I could come back for Mass in Spanish this afternoon and it was better than wondering what would happen next.

I found the English Mass easily and the priest was only in the middle of his homily so I felt pretty good about that. It turns out the parish has THREE Eucharistic chapels - the main church, this smaller chapel, and the perpetual adoration chapel. Pretty awesome. After the homily, there was a blessing for two men who were being commissioned as EMHCs. It was reverent and taken very seriously. Fr. really stressed the honor and duty of the role. Mass cntinued as normal except for two teen girls in front of me who were far more interested in hip checking each other than paying attention to anything that was happening. I managed to refrain from letting them know they might fit in better in the kiddie Mass downstairs.When it came time for communion, I was shocked and disappointed to see the priest sit down and leave distribution to the EMHCs. I understand the need for them (they use intinction with one person holding the ciborium, another the chalice, and a third the communion paten) but after the seriousness with which Fr. addressed the commissioning, it was clear he wasn’t a flake so I was confused about why he was sitting. It turned out my judgement was misplaced and I felt ashamed of myself when he explained/apologized to the congregation after Communion telling us how he had burned his right thumb in a firecracker accident the week before and it was hard to hold the hosts. I then wondered if I would have had a similar feeling had I stayed in the Mass for kids. Considering most everyone was leaving the church with a lollipop in their mouth when I passed them, I’m doubtful that judgement was as off.

So now I know where and when English Masses are and can avoid the Mass (more of a Mess unfortunately) for kids in the future. All’s well that ends well, right?

School and the market

School started last week. We eased into the year with two half days but starting tomorrow it’s full speed ahead. My class is pretty well behaved so far. They’re chatty but that’s supposedly a cultural thing. I’ve identified a couple of the leaders of the class and am already working to “get them on my side.”

Using responsive classroom teacher language is one of my big goals for the year and I’ve been working on it already. I’ve got sentence starters up in my room as reminders and that helps. It’s funny to remember how I reacted when I first heard about RC. I was a baby teacher and looking forward to having class stores and points and chart systems. Little did I know how much unnecessary work those  all are! Even though it seemed like everyone else at the RC training this summer was sponsored by their school and I was paying myself, I’m incredibly glad I went.

After a totally lazy day yesterday, I went to the central market with some friends today. Just like Europe, it’s the best place to get inexpensive, local produce. A full market bag with lettuce, spinach, peppers, eggplant, zucchini, tomatoes, onions, lemons, cabbage, mushrooms, sweet potato, and avocados was $10. Unlike Europe, everything goes immediately into bowls with water and vegetable sanitizer when I get home but then it’s ready for the rest of the week. I’m looking forward to my cooking this week!

This week in Guatemala

We continued new teacher orientation for most of the week. Returning teachers came back little by little to be introduced before the whole staff returned on Friday. I had forgotten how much longer staff meetings are at a bilingual school because everything has to be done in both languages. 

Our orientation was incredibly, perhaps unnecessarily, thorough. As someone who likes having all the information, I didn’t mind most of the time but it was frustrating when the same information was presented multiple times. My grade four team is great; I think we will get along well. It’s cool, not being the “baby” teacher in the team. I’m firmly in the middle in terms of experience and on the stronger side if considering international experience. This should help with one of my goals this year which is to be more decisive in my classroom.

I’m excited with how much of the Spanish I understand. Granted I can’t produce much but receptive language is always stronger than productive. Settling in is still progressing slowly but surely.

Here are some pictures of the beauty that I’m surrounded by here! Visitors are very welcome!

Guatemala!

So, I moved to Guatemala City last week.

In the two years since I’ve blogged, I finished my contract in Beijing and then was in Lahore, Pakistan for one year. Lahore was great... the country is beautiful, the people are friendly, and the pollution made me nostalgic for Beijing. Unfortunately, that last item led to a contract amendment so that I could live in a place where I could breathe. Hence, Guatemala!

The strangest thing about moving here was how easy it was. I left Pittsburgh at 7am and arrived in Guatemala before noon! For someone who has moved to Europe or Asia six times, arriving to my new home in less than ten hours door-to-door with no jet lag was surreal.

We started orientation for new teachers on Friday and then went to Antigua on Saturday. This morning, the English Mass was canceled at the nearest church to me. However, it was canceled because they were having a special celebration for the 12th anniversary of beginning Perpetual Adoration. Can’t complain about that!!! Plus, the church is safe walking distance from my apartment and they have an evening Mass most days of the week. I was praying for something like this. In China, it was impossible to go to daily Mass or adoration, in Pakistan, daily Mass was accessible but there wasn’t adoration. Now, in Guatemala, I’ve got both!

I’m hoping to get back into a habit of blogging weekly, so expect to see updates on weekends.

Russian Composers

When I was in college, I was very excited to take a course on Russian and Soviet history. Unfortunately, the teacher left MUCH to be desired in her "teaching" of the class. As our final project, we had to write a research paper. I gambled that she wouldn't read it and wrote completely bogus information about Russian composers and music.

Fast forward to Summer 2016. I took the Trans-Mongolian Railway from Beijing to Moscow and then continued to St. Petersburg. There is a famous cemetery in St. Petersburg which happens to contain the graves of all the composers I wrote about. Here is the footage from my trip as tribute to them and their work.

Introductory video

Glinka

Balikirev

Cui

Borodin

Unfortunately, the final two videos are two large for Blogger... I will try to post them on FB

Russian Composers

When I was in college, I was very excited to take a course on Russian and Soviet history. Unfortunately, the teacher left MUCH to be desired in her "teaching" of the class. As our final project, we had to write a research paper. I gambled that she wouldn't read it and wrote completely bogus information about Russian composers and music.

Fast forward to Summer 2016. I took the Trans-Mongolian Railway from Beijing to Moscow and then continued to St. Petersburg. There is a famous cemetery in St. Petersburg which happens to contain the graves of all the composers I wrote about. Here is the footage from my trip as tribute to them and their work.

Introductory video

Glinka

Balikirev

Cui

Borodin

Unfortunately, the final two videos are two large for Blogger... I will try to post them on FB

Open Letter to Myself of 5 Years Ago

7-1-16

Dear Rose,

                I won’t lie, the next few weeks will suck. You don’t know this yet, but you won’t sleep for the next two days and you will feel terrible. This is your gut telling you to get out of the situation. You won’t do it at first, but after stewing for a few weeks and talking to your “twin” Jen, you will break free. It will take time to recover. While you will get heartbroken in the future, I hope and pray this is the only time you will ever get your mind broken. You will get through it! Don’t beat yourself up when it takes time to heal! You’ve given six months of your life to someone who has sucked you into his warped way of thinking. It will be years before you go to Mass without either feeling guilty because your shirt is “too low cut” or doing it on purpose out of defiance. But these years will pass.

                This isn’t the only challenge you will go through in the coming years. You will meet more Mr. Collinses. Someone you hoped would be a Darcy will turn out to be a Wickam of the vilest sort. And it’s not only in romantic relationships that you will struggle.

                In less than two months, you will be forced to make an excruciating decision. You will know what you have to do, and will do it, but it will rip your heart out. The months after that will be miserable. You will feel close to ok, only to have a friend betray you, or a carpet ripped out from under your feet. You will spend countless hours trapped in your parents’ house wanting to die. It won’t be all bad, however! You will be come much closer to Helen and John. Helen will become one of your best friends. She was a little kid when you left for college and now you’ll get to know her as a young adult. Eventually, you will get a job. Not a good one – but you will enjoy it. And, in the end, this experience will lead you to a career that you love.

                Let me tell you a little more about the next few years. After ten months in the US, you will move back to Hungary. While teaching on the eastern side of the country, you will fall in love – with teaching. The next summer, you will, willingly, move back to the US for grad school. Two years later, you will end up in CHINA. The next summer, you will take the Trans-Mongolian Railway from Beijing to Russia. After that, I can’t tell you; I haven’t lived it yet!

                These years won’t be easy either. You will make and lose friends. You will be betrayed and maligned by someone you trusted. But you will make it!

                Five years to the day after that airport meeting, you will walk down the street in Ulan Bator, Mongolia, almost crying as you mentally compose this letter. None of this would have happened if you had tried to make that relationship work. In the end, you probably would have gotten your heart broken along with your mind. (For future reference, if the idea of kissing someone makes you feel ill, you probably should date them!)

                Today, you are adventurous, happy, living a full life, and FREE. There might be a relationship in your future, but, for now, you are too busy living your life to mind being single.

                I’m going to close now before the tears escape the corners of my eyes and the Mongolian family in my cabin on the train think I’m nuts. I am so proud of all you/I have accomplished and I can’t wait to see what’s next!

                I’m rooting for you!

                                                Rose

PSA

No, I'm not starting up my blog again. At least not right now. I just had to post this here because it is the only place that a certain person from my past might come in contact with me. This person refused to accept that I could not explain what a panic attack feels like. He may never see this and I'm fine with that.

If you ever see this (you know who you are), please know that, while I am eternally thankful that you are not part of my life anymore, I hope that you find the very specific person you are looking for.


What anxiety and panic attacks really feel like:


http://blog.relationshipsurgery.com/after-seeing-these-9-images-anxiety-and-panic-attacks-all-make-sense/

Ride of the Valkyries -- as interpreted by middle school students

Over the past few months, I've done a lesson with all of my upper school students (grades 5-8) on music interpretation. I played "Ride of the Valkyries" and they had to answer questions about what the story was, who was in it, where it was, when, how it felt, etc.  In every single class, at least some of them were convinced it was from Star Wars. These are some of the responses. Most of the names are kids from the classes.

"School explodes, Csabi and Zalan survive. Zsolti is a zombi and Csabi kills him"

"C3po is dead in a World War in Budapest at Heroes' Square.

I also started taking pictures of the stories after the kids wrote them on the board... here are some of my favorites:

One day, the coconut go to school and meet the banana. The coconut hate the banana. So they fight. The coconut won.

One day the banana go to the chocolate planet and he meet the pineapple. They fight but the clown stoped they, because he love olives.

 One day Luke is go to Darth Vader with Chuck Norris. Chuck Norris is stuck Darth Vader's hair the chewing gum. And Darth Vader is don't put out his hair.

One day, Chuck Norris is go to Yoda. They are speak a long hours when come on Luke and die Chuck Norris. Yoda is go to Sweets Planet and eat lots of sweets.

 One of my 5th grade classes with their stories

Miklos is extra crazy mummy and kill Panna with a Miss Rose's music book.

Miklos dancing (the kan-kan) and singing the star wars music. He's wear the red skirt. The red flower in Miklos hair.

I can see Dori and kill them with a sword. After eat the heart.

Szabi and Niki go to the cinema. They see a horror film in 3D. An the monster kill Szabi.

Miss Rose singing in the school at night.

Bence is talking in Miss Rose's lesson in the evening.

Frankie left her leg at the disco and it go to dancing when she sleep.

Viktor Orban (Hungarian prime minister) goes to Bikini Bottom in the 1550's because Spongebob needs a new best friend. They have a great time, and they make Krabby Patties.

 Gyulabaci (principal of our school) and Hitman kills Pinocchio in Gyulabacsi's office. After they eat Pinocchio's bottom in a hospital.

In the 21st century Sponge Bob is going to catch a shark but the shark is not very happy and the shark eat Sponge Bob. He didn't die, he is going back in the time. He is very scared and he is woke up. This is a bad dream. (one of the students who often struggles -- I was very proud of her)

Obi Wan: An UFO killed Anakin.

Anakin: An UFO killed me.

In this time, Darth Vader started dancing for this music: Gangnam Style, and the Dark Emperor, Dora, Diego, and Jack Sparrow ... sorry ... Captain Jack Sparrow did the same.

In 300BC, Dora the explorer is singing gypsy music. After she meets with PSY at the Krusty Krab. Spongebob serves them hamburger. :) At the end, they make a Harlem Shake video.

At the 19th century Obi Wan Kenobi and Darth Vader fought at the White House. The President killed himself, because he heard the music which was boring. Then Dora the explorer went to the White House and she saw when they were fighting. Then she picked up a sword and killed Darth Vader. After it she went back to the TV and sang a song called Gangnam style and started dancing.

In 3200 BC yoda singing in the white house with the beautiful spiderman.

Dora THE EXPLORER

A long time ago in a galaxy far far away ... When Dora was playing computer games, she was attacked by Darth Vader. Dora dueled him for 5k$. Dora won and she killed her pet monkeys 'cos she won. After one week Dora died in a heart-attack.

HOPE YOU WILL ENJOY

"The force may be with you"

While I am very much looking forward to not teaching middle school after this year there are fun bits sometimes.

Third time's a charm: a tale of three grandpas

When I was 11, my grandpa got very sick. We didn't know until the very end but he had been fighting bone cancer for a long time and it hadn't been treated because the doctors insisted it was just diabetes complications. He was in hospice at home and I remember visiting and trying to avoid sitting in the living room because it was just too depressing to see the once vibrant man lying on the sofa hardly able to move. I also distinctly remember a “hospital smell” that didn't help things at all. One of the times we visited, I sneaked out of the house without going and saying good-bye. He died before I could see him again.

At 18, my grandpa died unexpectedly. My family was living in Europe at the time and only my mom was able to fly back for the funeral. I didn't feel the guilt like I did the first time because I hadn't chosen to ignore him but I still missed it.

My grandpa is retiring this year from his job as professor/choir director at my university. He has been one of the biggest inspirations in my life for the past seven years. I don't know how many classes I had with him in school (definitely more than 12). He accompanied me on both my junior and senior recitals as well as many juries and concerts. We roadtripped with assorted other music students to choral festivals. He was always ready to discuss problems and help in any way he could. I felt a huge connection to him from the very beginning which has only grown over the years. I could write on and on about this man and the impact he has had in my life but I'll sum it up pretty simply: if someday I am half the teacher he is, I will have done my job.

In front of University Choir

When I heard that he was retiring, I knew I had to make it home for his last concert. Thankfully, this was a much happier occasion than a funeral but I knew I would always regret it if I couldn't come. I wasn't going to let this opportunity slip through my fingers. I kept my trip a secret from almost everyone. I am friends with him on facebook so I was especially careful not to mention anything on there. By the week before my trip only four of my friends (and my immediate family) knew I would be in the States.

Teaching philosophy: every lesson should have an "AAhh," "Ahha," and "Haha" moment

Most of this blog post is being written while I sit in airports before and between my flights going back to Hungary. I am so thankful to have had the opportunity to travel home for this concert. Yesterday, I spent most of the day in PA. I saw friends who I haven't seen in years. I had a chance to catch up with various professors. And, best of all, I saw the way his eyes lit up in shock when he realized I had come from Hungary just for the concert. He later mentioned it in the middle of the concert as he spoke of how touched he was that so many music alums had made it. “Someone even came all the way from Hungary. Yes, for real.” I had multiple people come up to me after saying they had no idea I was there until they heard what he said. 

In the end, I wouldn't change a thing about my trip. It was completely worth the cost and travel time even though I was traveling nearly as long as my time in the US. Besides the concert, I was able to spend time with another friend today (Monday), see my therapist, had a dr. appt, ate tons of Mexican food, enjoyed two full days of ungraded English conversation, purchased more stickers for my students, had a phone interview about my internship for next year, and spent time with my family. I've needed this trip with how lonely I have been (I had two friends last semester – one moved to Budapest, the other “broke up with me” because she claims she has too many meetings to ever see me).

With some of the other "music kids"

I might have messed things up the first two times with my grandpas but I have nothing to regret about this time.

Just an average day at the market

This is one of the many things I will miss when I move back to the States.

6 eggs
1 large bulb of garlic
3 big oranges
1 cucumber
1/2 lb beautiful mushrooms
and
1 beeswax candle (from the woman who probably made it)

Grand total - 1260ft ($5.77)

Total without the candle - 760ft ($3.48)

Personal Statement

This is for my University of Bridgeport application. The program is a Master of Science in Elementary Education with initial certification. The first year of the program is comprised of interning in a local elementary school and classes in the evenings. The last months are for student teaching. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

      Staring at my bookcase, I wonder when the education books began to outnumber the music scores. When exactly did I start to purchase teaching texts over aria compilations? What changed my goal from staring in Mozart operas to being Miss Kovach and teaching about Columbus, baking soda volcanoes, and multiplication? The important thing, however, is not how this change occurred but the simple fact that it did. 

 

     I came to love teaching through experience. Becoming a teacher was not something I planned. At first, teaching was simply an excuse to move to Hungary. I was ill prepared and had little knowledge of what teaching actually required. I had worked as a kindergarten assistant and taught a few preschool classes for an education course in college but those were little preparation for facing a classroom of middle school students. My first day was terrifying. I remember thinking “at least I never have to have another FIRST first day of teaching!” Despite my apprehension, I am proud of my accomplishments that first year as a teacher. Of course there were problems, but as a brand new teacher with little support, just making it through the year was a victory. Now in my second year as a full-time teacher, I have realized teaching is more than a means to an end. I love teaching and I want to obtain certification which will broaden my opportunities as well as help me become a better teacher who can inspire students to love learning.

    The certification program at University of Bridgeport is particularly appealing to me because of the internship part of the program. After spending two years as a teacher, I hope to continue to develop through experience as well as formal education. The opportunity to apply what I will be learning directly into my internship will be a better means of reinforcement than any test or paper could ever be. Additionally, I strongly believe that teachers have an obligation to be both educators and role models to their students. The opportunity to work with and learn from experienced teachers in my placement will provide very practical and applicable knowledge in these areas.

   My professional goal after completing my certification is to become a classroom teacher in an international school. Grades 2-4 are particularly appealing to me, because students are excited to learn and ready to continue building on the foundation created during nursery, kindergarten, and first grade. In my two years as an English teacher in Hungary, I have seen how important it is to be an ambassador for my country. I may be the only American my students ever meet so it is vital that I make a good impression. Additionally, the children in international schools have a special set of needs and, having lived outside of the US as a child, I understand what some of those challenges can be. With this certification and degree, I hope to be better equipped to educate and inspire my students.