Gray

Let me preface this blog by saying that in the two weeks since I've returned to Hungary, I spent the first week horribly debilitated by both jet lag and a deathly, can't-breathe, wake-up-convinched-I'm-drowning style head cold. I then pretty much healed from that, got over the jet lag, and headed off to Heves for the weekend and the long-anticipated Mexikoi Buli. There, I had 7 hours of totally raucous and crazy fun before I was struck down with horrible, horrible death. So let me just state: I have not eaten any solid food other than toast and dry Hungarian granola bars that has lasted more than ten minutes in my stomach since Friday evening. It's Thursday afternoon. I'm starting to become a little loopy. Today, though, I don't suffer the horrible stabbing stomach pains I have been suffering the past week, so I think tonight might be the night for some pasta. Oh yes.

First, let me address the subject of my students, or more specifically, my love for them (and occasional frustration). If anyone is ever having self-esteem issues, I personally recommend teaching first and second graders. Whenever I walk somewhere during a class break, I have to be on constant alert. Why? First graders, man. I hear a scream of "LÓREN!!" and six crash into my back. Or one will leap from atop a bench onto my shoulders, or crash head first into my stomach. I've actually been knocked to the ground on multiple occasions. I'll watch one run from down the hall, and just brace my abs for the impact of tiny skulls. First graders are funny because they don't yet quite have an outside consciousness. They care for other people, and things (it's very cute to watch one comb a stuffed animal, or to feel soft tugging behind you and realize that a cadre of 7 year old girls has braided all the tips of your hair), but they also don't grasp the concept that their entire weight landing on your right shoulder may hurt you, or just be a little awkward. And they bounce, which is convenient because they are constantly flying through the air and falling.

My second graders continue to amaze me with just how freaking smart they are. I also feel a little sad because they don't get told nearly enough how amazingly brilliant they all are and I can see some of them succumbing already to the Hungarian-head-slump. We've started level three of their book, the accursed Playway (recommended in this week's lesson: "have the children mill about while you tap a certain tune on a tambourine!"), and the children just read sentences. I know that it can be underwhelming to say that they read sentences, but this is their second language. And I know it's a testament to how cool this billingual system is, but I'm just super impressed with them. We did skits this week. In tutorials today, my kids wrote skits and then performed them with me. An example:

Me: Teacher

Julcsi: a horse

Szonja: a dog

Juli: a girl

Good morning!

Good morning!

Good morning Teacher!

Hello Teacher! How are you?

I'm super, thanks! But what are you doing?

I'm drawing.

I'm doing gymnastiks. (sic)

I'm sleeping.

That's fun. What will you eat for dinner?

Tomato soup!

Cornflakes!

A bananashake! (sic)
Yummy! Goodbye, see you later!

Goodbye teacher!

Bye-bye!

Bye-bye Teacher!

I love my job, really.

The second job has been a little strange so far this week (it only started back on Monday), primarily due to my one poor student's intense homesickness. The boys asked me if there were any American traditions for New Years Eve, and I replied that it's common to shoot off fireworks, drink champagne, and often to kiss someone at midnight. At the last one, the poor boy became so flustered that he actually shed a tear because he doubts that he can ever adjust to western society. I feel bad for the students quite often, they're torn in many different directions and aren't provided with any emotional support. I bet it's weird for them. Hungary can depress me sometimes, and in many many ways it's very similar to the US. I can only imagine for them.

I have very little non-work related things to report because of the whole jet-lag immediately followed by illness thing that I've been rocking. I have to admit I've been rather a loser and have done very little beyond work, lay in bed watching DVDs, and sleep. I've especially been sleeping a LOT this week due to the death. I promise next update will tell of crazy adventures, haha.

I am a little lonesome, but such is the plight of the single girl in a scowly country, I suppose. I'd love a spontaneous hug sometime, or a pat on the shoulder. My friends are great, and my coworkers have especially warmed up to me now they've figured out I can understand them and reply back in broken words and hand gestures. I do become frustrated with Hungarian, because I feel like I can say anything I want to say in most situations except work. As I said to Nóra, who sits across from me, today... funnily enough, my general Hungarian class doesn't really teach me to say "Artúr was a very naughty boy today" or "I'm so tired of filling out grade books." Go figure.

I found this picture online today, and it is the reason for the title of this post... gray is definitely the main color in my life right now. Any wonder I need vitamin D in the winter here?

It is lovely, though, isn't it?