Cost of a Masters in the US: ~30,000 USD
Cost of a Masters in Spain: ~1500 Euro (~2079 USD)
Application deadlines in the US: usually mid March
Application deadlines in Spain: usually early July since they don't even post the application until the second week of APRIL!!!!
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Friday, January 29, 2010
Students
This week I have been giving oral exams to my third graders. In the "answer using your imagination" section, I asked a series of questions. The first one was "Where is mom?" and the second was "What is she doing?" The first two days of giving the tests, the kids almost invariably answered that mom was either in the kitchen or at home, and that she was cooking. I was peeved by this at first, but then I became curious. Was this a reflection of society, or just a reflection of them knowing those words particularly well?
With the second half of kids I kept the test the same, just substituted the word dad for mom. Suddenly, dad was all over the place. He was playing football, eating, watching TV, and just generally having an awesome time. On the plus side, I now have a few new favorite students... the ones who put dad in the kitchen!
Of course, according to my students, only one parent was working in the middle of the day, and one was battling dinosaurs, so I will take this data with a grain of salt.
My students are really rocking my socks the past few weeks. They're being just clever, and they're starting to be actually funny (even if the only jokes they can tell are translated puns, which just doesn't work). I played Mad Libs with the third graders and it was so much fun to watch them giggle at things like "toilet hat" and "stupid green cat." The other week I was playing something like hangman with the kids in the last few minutes of a lesson, and they started being really silly, so I drew myself. They suddenly got very serious and played with great intensity, not wanting me to be eaten by sharks. And then they had a small debate amongst themselves as to whether I was the best teacher in the school, or simply the best English teacher. I'll take either! Nothing like kids to bring you up and make you feel like the most awesome person in the world.
I was trying to sneak past 2c on the way to the bathroom without being mobbed. Loren, a gypsy girl, came running up to me. "Ms. Lauren! Is it true that in America it's normal to have brown skin like me?" She didn't ask this in a defensive way, but in a curious one, and in Hungarian of course. She and her two friends stared up at me, and I didn't know what to say. My mouth opened and closed, and then I answered in my best Hungarian, "Well, America is a big country. There are more than 300 million Americans. And most of us are white, I think. But there are lots of brown people, and black people, and Asian people, and people that are mixed too. But I don't know if it's normal. I think life is a bit different for them than it was for me. But I think your skin is beautiful."
She seemed satisfied with that and ran off to her little second grade world, and I sighed and continued to the bathroom. Nothing like children to make you realize what a big, scary place the world is and how powerless you are in it.
I have been ridiculously busy this month. Between doing grades, parents complaining, midterm tests, redesigning the staff room, catching up on things I've let slide, getting my broken computer fixed, and writing applications... I'm a bit tired!
Tune back soon for the update (with pictures!) of my trip to Visegrad, where I climbed a snow-covered mountain.
With the second half of kids I kept the test the same, just substituted the word dad for mom. Suddenly, dad was all over the place. He was playing football, eating, watching TV, and just generally having an awesome time. On the plus side, I now have a few new favorite students... the ones who put dad in the kitchen!
Of course, according to my students, only one parent was working in the middle of the day, and one was battling dinosaurs, so I will take this data with a grain of salt.
My students are really rocking my socks the past few weeks. They're being just clever, and they're starting to be actually funny (even if the only jokes they can tell are translated puns, which just doesn't work). I played Mad Libs with the third graders and it was so much fun to watch them giggle at things like "toilet hat" and "stupid green cat." The other week I was playing something like hangman with the kids in the last few minutes of a lesson, and they started being really silly, so I drew myself. They suddenly got very serious and played with great intensity, not wanting me to be eaten by sharks. And then they had a small debate amongst themselves as to whether I was the best teacher in the school, or simply the best English teacher. I'll take either! Nothing like kids to bring you up and make you feel like the most awesome person in the world.
I was trying to sneak past 2c on the way to the bathroom without being mobbed. Loren, a gypsy girl, came running up to me. "Ms. Lauren! Is it true that in America it's normal to have brown skin like me?" She didn't ask this in a defensive way, but in a curious one, and in Hungarian of course. She and her two friends stared up at me, and I didn't know what to say. My mouth opened and closed, and then I answered in my best Hungarian, "Well, America is a big country. There are more than 300 million Americans. And most of us are white, I think. But there are lots of brown people, and black people, and Asian people, and people that are mixed too. But I don't know if it's normal. I think life is a bit different for them than it was for me. But I think your skin is beautiful."
She seemed satisfied with that and ran off to her little second grade world, and I sighed and continued to the bathroom. Nothing like children to make you realize what a big, scary place the world is and how powerless you are in it.
I have been ridiculously busy this month. Between doing grades, parents complaining, midterm tests, redesigning the staff room, catching up on things I've let slide, getting my broken computer fixed, and writing applications... I'm a bit tired!
Tune back soon for the update (with pictures!) of my trip to Visegrad, where I climbed a snow-covered mountain.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Strike
So Monday night Mate calls me at an ungodly hour to inform me that there will be a transit strike this week. Well, balls. Tuesday morning I dust off Tiffany and pull her outside. It's below freezing, and my hands shake as I clip on my helmet, but off I go to work. And sure enough, after a few blocks of cold air whipping onto my face, my body goes numb and my heart gets warm. I zip past the people waiting for the very rare buses and trams, fly up the river, dart across the bridge. Sure, I got to work, hopped off my bike, and barely caught myself on the fence before my legs gave out.
But God, I love my bike. Even if I now have a cold, which I am European enough to believe came from sweating so heavily in the cold!
But God, I love my bike. Even if I now have a cold, which I am European enough to believe came from sweating so heavily in the cold!
Friday, January 15, 2010
Obligation
So I haven't been blogging because for whatever reason I felt obligated to blog about my time at home. And here's the thing. My time at home was lovely, beautiful, and relaxing. It was also strange, eye-opening, and sad. I had so many conflicting and powerful emotional responses. I lived my time at home. And then I came back home to Budapest, because I don't feel that it is contradictory in any way to list both as home, and I had no desire to blog about home.
I wanted to blog about other things. I just didn't want to blog about home. But I felt like I owed it to my home to write a beautiful, deep, and moving entry about it. So I didn't blog about anything else. And every time someone asked me about home I found that I was incapable of doing anything beyond sighing and evading the question.
And then today I realized that my time at home was exactly that. It's mine. I'm going to be greedy with it because, frankly, I don't want to share it. It's my time, and that's all. Sorry guys.
I wanted to blog about other things. I just didn't want to blog about home. But I felt like I owed it to my home to write a beautiful, deep, and moving entry about it. So I didn't blog about anything else. And every time someone asked me about home I found that I was incapable of doing anything beyond sighing and evading the question.
And then today I realized that my time at home was exactly that. It's mine. I'm going to be greedy with it because, frankly, I don't want to share it. It's my time, and that's all. Sorry guys.
Monday, December 21, 2009
Catch up!
So in the past few weeks I have gone hunting for bunkers in the Hungarian woods.
Lyla and I spent about 7 hours baking cookies.
It's snowed... a lot!
The children have put on Christmas shows.
We've learned songs.
And in about 7 hours, I'll be on a plane headed for America. Well, headed for Frankfurt, but THEN headed for America. It's been a year... I wonder if America will remember me?
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Speaking out
So, I live abroad. I've been here for over a year, and could see myself staying a long time. This is full of amazing difficulties: buying groceries, going to the doctor, finding my way... it all takes much more work than it would at home. And I'm happy for these difficulties, because I believe they make me a better and more patient person. Beyond that, though, there are other questions and issues. And one that has been bothering me this weekend is: at what point do I earn the right to speak out against things that strike me as unfair?
Just as some background information: in Hungary children join a class of about 25 students in first grade. They remain in that same class until 8th grade, with some small adjustments if a child moves in or out. They have one main teacher for first through fourth grade, and a second for fifth through eighth, and their other teachers remain the same during those two periods as well. This certainly has some benefits for the children, as they develop close, family-like bonds with their classmates and teachers. It also has, in my opinion, the disadvantage that they do not learn to meet people. I think this can stunt their ability to welcome and effectively work with new people in life.
At the beginning of the school year we had a new student arrive in one of my third grade classes. All the children were rather unwelcoming to her, and I believe as a result, she became rather conflictive. About two months into the school year, her family moved across town and she switched to a different school. Apparently she is very unhappy there and her parents are considering bringing her back to Krudy, but are unsure because they know she wasn't really welcomed the first time. So somehow it was decided that the class should essentially "vote" on whether she should come back. This was kept "anonymous" by having them put their heads down while they voted. The majority of the children voted against her.
I, and every other American/Canadian that I have mentioned it to, was appalled by this. For one, I was upset that these sweet kids could vote against someone's happiness, against giving someone a second chance. Mostly, though, I was upset that the teachers could effectively encourage the children to express such ugliness. How could the children be given the idea that they have the right to decide whether one of their peers should be allowed to return? And when they chose intolerance, how could the teachers not have taken that as an opportunity to discuss kindness, and such basic concepts as treating others the way they would want to be treated?
Never mind the fact that the children certainly discussed the results among themselves afterward, now feel unified in their dislike of the girl, and should she actually return, will certainly tell her that they all voted against her. That the whole class doesn't want her there. Because children are cruel until they are taught not to be. Children are a blank slate, and I believe that as a teacher it is partially my responsibility to socialize them into decent human beings.
Now, the controversial part of my blog that will surely get me some angry comments from my Hungarian readers. I see things in Hungary that frankly astound me. The treatment of gypsies, for example. I've witnessed a gypsy get on a tram, and everyone gets up and moves away from them. The word that means the equivalent of "faggot" is a hyper-common word, and is treated as no worse than "damn." I've watched my 2nd graders toss the word back and forth at each other and receive no harsher admonition than "don't use bad language." In my mind, faggot is not simply bad language, but something hateful, ugly, and even threatening. I have several students of different ethnicities, and they all adopt a Hungarian name to use in school because using their real name is considered to be too difficult for everyone around them. I myself have been harassed, even sworn at, shoved, and threatened by crazy individuals for being a foreigner, while everyone around me did nothing to interfere.
Now, please notice that I in no way consider this to be a Hungary-exclusive problem. There is ugliness, intolerance, and fearful hate everywhere. The difference is in the reactions when I speak out against such things. In America I am "allowed" to mention the unfairness of the injustice I see. Maybe people will call me a bleeding-heart, but nobody ever questions my right to talk about what I see. In Hungary, however, whenever I mention that something is unfair, I am immediately dismissed. I'm told that I don't understand, or that I'm seeing things that don't exist. While nobody ever says so exactly, the clear implication is that as a foreigner, I have no right to see something as unfair, and should probably just be quiet now.
So when this "vote" happened by the class, and I expressed how disgusted I was by the whole thing, I was told I was overreacting. When I mentioned the fact that the student in question was half-black... oh, now I was just being hysterical. Surely the comments I had heard about her skin, or the texture of her hair, hadn't ever happened. And maybe, maybe I was misunderstanding them. They did occur in Hungarian. But even if I didn't speak a word of the language, tone of voice exists and is pretty universal. I was told that I was seeing connections that could never exist. Don't think that there are race issues here.
I love my life here. I really, really do. I also understand that I cannot, and never will be able to, completely understand how things happen in a country where I wasn't raised and socialized. I understand that in moving to another country, I put my voice into a coat check of sorts, to only be taken out when I could somewhat understand what was going on around me. But to be told that the issues I see don't exist, to have my opinion (and thus my worth as a being) totally discounted, to be totally denied even an honest discussion... how will I ever be able to understand?
I am starting to seriously wonder when, if ever, I will earn the right to have my voice back.
Just as some background information: in Hungary children join a class of about 25 students in first grade. They remain in that same class until 8th grade, with some small adjustments if a child moves in or out. They have one main teacher for first through fourth grade, and a second for fifth through eighth, and their other teachers remain the same during those two periods as well. This certainly has some benefits for the children, as they develop close, family-like bonds with their classmates and teachers. It also has, in my opinion, the disadvantage that they do not learn to meet people. I think this can stunt their ability to welcome and effectively work with new people in life.
At the beginning of the school year we had a new student arrive in one of my third grade classes. All the children were rather unwelcoming to her, and I believe as a result, she became rather conflictive. About two months into the school year, her family moved across town and she switched to a different school. Apparently she is very unhappy there and her parents are considering bringing her back to Krudy, but are unsure because they know she wasn't really welcomed the first time. So somehow it was decided that the class should essentially "vote" on whether she should come back. This was kept "anonymous" by having them put their heads down while they voted. The majority of the children voted against her.
I, and every other American/Canadian that I have mentioned it to, was appalled by this. For one, I was upset that these sweet kids could vote against someone's happiness, against giving someone a second chance. Mostly, though, I was upset that the teachers could effectively encourage the children to express such ugliness. How could the children be given the idea that they have the right to decide whether one of their peers should be allowed to return? And when they chose intolerance, how could the teachers not have taken that as an opportunity to discuss kindness, and such basic concepts as treating others the way they would want to be treated?
Never mind the fact that the children certainly discussed the results among themselves afterward, now feel unified in their dislike of the girl, and should she actually return, will certainly tell her that they all voted against her. That the whole class doesn't want her there. Because children are cruel until they are taught not to be. Children are a blank slate, and I believe that as a teacher it is partially my responsibility to socialize them into decent human beings.
Now, the controversial part of my blog that will surely get me some angry comments from my Hungarian readers. I see things in Hungary that frankly astound me. The treatment of gypsies, for example. I've witnessed a gypsy get on a tram, and everyone gets up and moves away from them. The word that means the equivalent of "faggot" is a hyper-common word, and is treated as no worse than "damn." I've watched my 2nd graders toss the word back and forth at each other and receive no harsher admonition than "don't use bad language." In my mind, faggot is not simply bad language, but something hateful, ugly, and even threatening. I have several students of different ethnicities, and they all adopt a Hungarian name to use in school because using their real name is considered to be too difficult for everyone around them. I myself have been harassed, even sworn at, shoved, and threatened by crazy individuals for being a foreigner, while everyone around me did nothing to interfere.
Now, please notice that I in no way consider this to be a Hungary-exclusive problem. There is ugliness, intolerance, and fearful hate everywhere. The difference is in the reactions when I speak out against such things. In America I am "allowed" to mention the unfairness of the injustice I see. Maybe people will call me a bleeding-heart, but nobody ever questions my right to talk about what I see. In Hungary, however, whenever I mention that something is unfair, I am immediately dismissed. I'm told that I don't understand, or that I'm seeing things that don't exist. While nobody ever says so exactly, the clear implication is that as a foreigner, I have no right to see something as unfair, and should probably just be quiet now.
So when this "vote" happened by the class, and I expressed how disgusted I was by the whole thing, I was told I was overreacting. When I mentioned the fact that the student in question was half-black... oh, now I was just being hysterical. Surely the comments I had heard about her skin, or the texture of her hair, hadn't ever happened. And maybe, maybe I was misunderstanding them. They did occur in Hungarian. But even if I didn't speak a word of the language, tone of voice exists and is pretty universal. I was told that I was seeing connections that could never exist. Don't think that there are race issues here.
I love my life here. I really, really do. I also understand that I cannot, and never will be able to, completely understand how things happen in a country where I wasn't raised and socialized. I understand that in moving to another country, I put my voice into a coat check of sorts, to only be taken out when I could somewhat understand what was going on around me. But to be told that the issues I see don't exist, to have my opinion (and thus my worth as a being) totally discounted, to be totally denied even an honest discussion... how will I ever be able to understand?
I am starting to seriously wonder when, if ever, I will earn the right to have my voice back.
Middle Ear Infection
So I have a middle ear infection. Silver linings!
1. I got myself a hazi orvos, finally. And did the whole going-to-the-hospital thing by myself, without major stress or any tears!
2. Pain pills and major antibiotics.
3. No working on a Saturday. Whoo!
1. I got myself a hazi orvos, finally. And did the whole going-to-the-hospital thing by myself, without major stress or any tears!
2. Pain pills and major antibiotics.
3. No working on a Saturday. Whoo!
Thursday, December 17, 2009
I particularly like where they claim Vitamin C.
Hungarians are very proud people; one of the ways this is commonly manifested is through a desire to claim everything as being invented by Hungarians, or at least people of Hungarian descent. I've always wanted to somehow explain this to my non-Hungarian readers (aka, my parents and grandma). Happily, this video does it for me, with a very catchy song that I highly enjoy as an added bonus! So enjoy while Hungary claims to have invented everything from the ballpoint pen (actually true) to Vitamin C (dubious).
http://www.bbr.hu/hirek/115/Uj_imidzsfilm_budapestrol
http://www.bbr.hu/hirek/115/Uj_imidzsfilm_budapestrol
Thursday, December 10, 2009
A Taste of Home
I'm borrowing the name of one of my favorite series of cookbooks for this post. I guess I must be ready to go home because I wanted nothing more than to cook America for dinner. So, I did. Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, gravy, crudite... and mixed nut brittle to finish it off.
Beautiful!
I must admit I was a bit scared to make a dry caramel, especially since the only appropriate pan is quite dark. It turned out fantastic, however. I just melted a cup plus a bit of sugar until it smelled like caramel over medium heat. I removed it from the heat and added about 2 square inches of butter, cut into little bits, let that melt, and then added a cup of toasted nuts and a dash of salt. The mixture was then poured onto a greased cookie sheet, spread, and allowed to dry. It's like eating delicious glass.
A photo of a sleepy Bencelita hugging my thumb is always a nice way to top off a post, I think.
Beautiful!
I must admit I was a bit scared to make a dry caramel, especially since the only appropriate pan is quite dark. It turned out fantastic, however. I just melted a cup plus a bit of sugar until it smelled like caramel over medium heat. I removed it from the heat and added about 2 square inches of butter, cut into little bits, let that melt, and then added a cup of toasted nuts and a dash of salt. The mixture was then poured onto a greased cookie sheet, spread, and allowed to dry. It's like eating delicious glass.
A photo of a sleepy Bencelita hugging my thumb is always a nice way to top off a post, I think.Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Zombies
On Saturday night I went to see Zombieland (hysterical and awesome, by the way, except for the OH MY GOD ZOMBIE CLOWN terror at one point). As Woody Harrelson mowed down zombies with a giant SUV and a sub-automatic, Lyla leaned over to me and whispered, "This is why zombie movies can't be shot in Europe. Can you imagine trying to kill a zombie with a Peugeot?"
Seriously, though, think about it. Tiny cars, limited access to weapons of any sort, virtually no access to guns, full cities, everyone constantly on public transport, and the tendency to kiss everyone you see on the face. The plague will spread like wildfire and there will be no way to escape. The zombie apocalypse will just totally destroy Europe!
Seriously, though, think about it. Tiny cars, limited access to weapons of any sort, virtually no access to guns, full cities, everyone constantly on public transport, and the tendency to kiss everyone you see on the face. The plague will spread like wildfire and there will be no way to escape. The zombie apocalypse will just totally destroy Europe!
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