Good news, then a hazing

First for the good news: On Thursday I got a call saying I'd been approved for a visa. This is excellent because now I'll be here legally and even get paid! It's also great because on Wednesday, by far my toughest day of teaching, I'll instead be on a little field trip to Serbia with Gyula and Taylor to slap that visa into my passport, buy a winter coat at the market, and then apply for a residency permit back in Szeged.

Life here is going well, particularly with my job. One of the major reasons I came here was to see if I was cut out to be a teacher. The life plan is to try and get a Ph.d. and teach in a college, but I didn't want to devote myself to at least 5 (and probably 6 or 7) more years of schooling only to finally get that doctorate and then find out that I hate teaching. What would I do then? With my estimated time of getting a doctorate at 31 or 32, I'd already be approaching that time of vulnerability for a mid-life crisis. It would probably lead me to the bottle. Well I don't think I have to worry, at least about the teaching part. I'm really enjoying it, and my job teaching here is the best job I've ever had. Sure it's very tiring and comes full of struggles, but overall I'm having a great time with my students and I think they've warmed up to me. My favorite groups are my ninth graders because they're not disillusioned yet and they are full of enthusiasm. Three times I've walked into the room with different ninth grade groups to find "WE LOVE PAUL" written on the board. They'll probably all get pretty good grades in my class... It really is great to have a job that I love. Indeed, a few of those quiet weekends alone in the apartment have found me on Sunday night just itching to get back to school.

Where the magic happens, my school: Boros Samuel Szakkisepiskola

Also good news is that I'm (finally finally finally) getting to know a lot more Hungarians. After the excitement of moving here wore off and I fell into my routines I endured a pretty lonely stretch there. This is the first time I've lived alone, and in a foreign country with no human contact on the horizon many nights drove me to really reconsider this whole willingly exiling myself in small-town Hungary thing I'm doing. But last weekend brought with it good things, not one but two party invites! Agi, one of my favorite colleagues, had a big dinner party at her house last Friday night and invited a bunch of colleagues, her older students, and Szentes' three foreigners: Taylor, myself, and Sara, the very charming French lecturer. That party was really fun and I found out that some of my colleagues actually speak English, and with my limited Hungarian (and a few beverages) we were able to break that language barrier. It felt pretty great to come to work on Monday and have more than 3 people say hello to me all day. Then on Saturday one of my favorite students, Peter, who is in one of my older classes (my school is kind of like a community college in a way, and he is 19) invited me to the birthday party of one of his brother's friends. It turns out his brother's friend is another one of my colleagues. He had us to his place and it was another really great night of meeting Hungarians, learning lots of new words, and witnessing how much they truly love their palinka.

It's not all roses over here though. Last night brought with it something truly horrifying: my hazing. Hungarian schools have a very proud tradition of thoroughly embarrassing their new teachers and students. All of the ninth grade students wear ridiculous costumes with a definite cross-dressing theme and have to perform embarrassing acts in front of their peers. As if being 14 isn't a rough enough. Well, the new teachers also get theirs. Two weeks ago Taylor had his turn, he had to say a couple of tongue twisters in front of the entire school. Embarrassing, yes, but it only took all of 20 seconds. Last night was my school's festival of cruelty. Two of my colleagues (new teachers) had to write a Hungarian story using a lot of very strange phrases, phrases difficult for a native Hungarian to pronounce. Then last night I got to read the story to the entire school! It wouldn't have been so bad if not for the handwriting - I couldn't read a damn word on the page. And so I stood there, brow soaked in sweat and stammering and really doing my best not to say some very naughty English words over the PA system that the entire school and various Szentes celebrities were listening to. I think I did let an "Oh, Christ" out. It was a painful 5 minutes, but hey, at least I didn't have to cross dress like my students. After the cruelty there was a faculty dinner, which was a great time, and a dance for the students, which I stood around for a bit just to get a few laughs in. Sara and I then chose to make our escape and meet Taylor, Peter, and a bunch of Peter's friends in a nearby pub for a few drinks that by then I desperately needed.

Today my big plan is to make a new pile of Hungarian flash cards and go on a long walk. I leave you with pictures of the circus. Unfortunately I didn't get pictures of the really cruel pranks because they either took place outside of the gathering (like sending cross-dressed kids into bars to beg for money) or everyone clamored around them and I didn't want to add to the humiliation with my camera.

Struggling hard core.

Two of my well-dressed students in a card house competition.

Which class can use the least number of feet?

Taylor's hazing.