I guess I'm having my 1.5 minutes...no, I didn't get the decimal point in the wrong place. But I did get my picture in Der Tagesspiegel (The Daily Mirror) the other day...with the caption "Pedagogik mit Charisma" (teaching with charisma). The article was about how the private and public English-language schools in Berlin search for faculty, ideally those who can inspire children and also work on a team (also part of the caption). Somehow out of the pictures they had to choose from they chose me. So now I have newspaper recognition in Germany...next, the world! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!
If I get a chance I'll scan the picture, but so far I have no electronic version. I do have two copies on paper, though! :c)
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Friday, May 1, 2009
May Day
Berlin in the springtime is outstanding. We wondered this week whether we should try to go somewhere on this long May Day weekend, perhaps to Dresden or Leipzig, a day trip kind of place, so we could say we’d been traveling. But the end of the week snuck up on us (the long part of the weekend coming at the BEGINNING, instead of the end, like we’re used to) and we hadn’t planned anything, so we stayed.
Local hero Christian took us climbing today. We herded the kids out of the apartment at the remarkable hour of 10:20, only shortly after the promised 10:00. It being May Day, we promptly (as in outside our door) came across two other families out to do something outside with their kids. This gave the distinct impression that this is kind of like a Memorial Day in Boston. Everyone has the day off, except the train workers, and the weather is awesome, so everyone is out and heading for the riverside or the woods or grilling or whatever, as long as its outdoors.
Anyway we met up with Christian out by Grünewald, to the west of the city. Still in Berlin, but as he said, the great thing about Berlin is that even when you stay in the city you can still get out of the city. To get to the climbing wall, we had to climb up and over Teufelsberg (Devil’s Mountain), one of the many hills created by piling up the rubble left over from the destruction of the city at the end of WWII. It’s difficult to believe that this is a man-made hill when you’re actually on it; its size alone suggests it has to be natural, and the fact that its sides are covered with trees makes it feel wild. The bricks and bits of concrete that poke through into the path do make it clear that something else is going on, however, and Katy even spotted some pieces of old china. An archaeologist’s dream!
The climbing wall, a multifaceted structure set back in the woods, had a pretty good crowd. Christian hooked us all up with harnesses and ropes and gear, taught some knots, set up some top ropes, and we spent most of the day climbing, belaying, and generally getting good and tired. Everyone had some success, everyone tried something that was out of their comfort zone, and we all had a great time. We ended the afternoon exhausted, proud of ourselves, and not at all disappointed to still be in Berlin. Thanks Christian!
Dinner at a Biergarten, near the zoo, put the finishing touches on a terrific day. Dining outdoors, where we could be silly and loud and not have to be on our best manners, made for a relaxed and fun evening. We made it home on the S-Bahn, bathed dust, sweat, and sunscreen off all the kids, and popped them into bed. I suspect they’ll all sleep well tonight.
Local hero Christian took us climbing today. We herded the kids out of the apartment at the remarkable hour of 10:20, only shortly after the promised 10:00. It being May Day, we promptly (as in outside our door) came across two other families out to do something outside with their kids. This gave the distinct impression that this is kind of like a Memorial Day in Boston. Everyone has the day off, except the train workers, and the weather is awesome, so everyone is out and heading for the riverside or the woods or grilling or whatever, as long as its outdoors.
Anyway we met up with Christian out by Grünewald, to the west of the city. Still in Berlin, but as he said, the great thing about Berlin is that even when you stay in the city you can still get out of the city. To get to the climbing wall, we had to climb up and over Teufelsberg (Devil’s Mountain), one of the many hills created by piling up the rubble left over from the destruction of the city at the end of WWII. It’s difficult to believe that this is a man-made hill when you’re actually on it; its size alone suggests it has to be natural, and the fact that its sides are covered with trees makes it feel wild. The bricks and bits of concrete that poke through into the path do make it clear that something else is going on, however, and Katy even spotted some pieces of old china. An archaeologist’s dream!
The climbing wall, a multifaceted structure set back in the woods, had a pretty good crowd. Christian hooked us all up with harnesses and ropes and gear, taught some knots, set up some top ropes, and we spent most of the day climbing, belaying, and generally getting good and tired. Everyone had some success, everyone tried something that was out of their comfort zone, and we all had a great time. We ended the afternoon exhausted, proud of ourselves, and not at all disappointed to still be in Berlin. Thanks Christian!
Dinner at a Biergarten, near the zoo, put the finishing touches on a terrific day. Dining outdoors, where we could be silly and loud and not have to be on our best manners, made for a relaxed and fun evening. We made it home on the S-Bahn, bathed dust, sweat, and sunscreen off all the kids, and popped them into bed. I suspect they’ll all sleep well tonight.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Adventures in France, Day 2
The morning started off with tearful farewells to Momma as she headed home. We tried to leave early enough that she could come with us to the Eiffel Tower, but it was not to be, so we went together as far as the train station. The kids and I made our way through the depths of the Montparnasse Métro, which is pretty labyrinthine, and eventually got to the right train. Not too much later we arrived at the Hakim Bei? station. One very brief wrong start and we quickly arrived at a point where we could see the Tour itself. A quick photo, then we threw ourselves into the massive crowds milling about and the endless lines waiting to go up. In fact, I've never seen lines so long. Hold on...something's wrong with these lines. They're not moving. What's going on?
Aha! I see, it's not open yet. OK, what time is it? 10:15. Huh? Further investigation required. This is NOT a time to fall sheeplike into the back of a line waiting for it to go somewhere. No, we must assert ourselves! (Or at least our right to information). We explored to the South tower, where the stairs are (and, not surprisingly, the shortest line) and asked the people up front if they knew when the gate would open. "Um, no," they said, "maybe not at all." It turns out that the security staff had been on strike yesterday and it appeared they still were today. But nobody really knows, except that opening time was an hour ago and nothing's happening. A whole lot of wishful thinking going on. We joined in for about twenty minutes before quitting.
But NOW what to do? We wandered (aimlessly) down the Champ de Mars, past the protest at the Ecole de la Guerre (Malcolm says "School of war? that's like war school, I bet"), and onto the train where we redirected and headed for Montmartre. Promises of food once we got off helped keep the troops on their feet.
Arrival at Abbesses, up about a thousand stairs just to get out of the Metro! After a short walk we found a small shop selling panini and picked out a couple for our lunch. The local children came home from school and set to work delivering groceries. We took ours down the street and sat in the sun to watch the funicular riding up and down the hill, empty. Also closed, but still working. Fortunately we were strong enough to make it up the hill, now in bright sunshine, to Sacre-Coeur. Admired the incredible view, peeled off a couple layers of clothes, argued with Malcolm about whether he could spend his money on a binocular view. The parental answer was no, and as it turned out he couldn't reach it anyway. But he was somewhat mollified in his need to SPEND by buying a candle for us to light in the church. I bought one too and we all cried a little while we stood together with the candles.
After we went out in the sun again M and I stood in line for the toilet for about half an hour while the girls invented a game on the stairs. Meanwhile a guitarist was holding forth on the front steps and attracting an enormous crowd, singing Bob Marley and such. Cool. Then we went off to find ice cream, but first we gave in to an artist and overpaid (but maybe not too much) for a crayon portrait of the three kids together. It's nice but Seanna looks like 5 or 6 year old Seanna, with rounder cheeks than she has now.
On around through the crazy square full of sidwalk artists, down the hill, the kids stopped to sit in the sun and play a game with stones on the sidewalk while I took a short nap. Not on purpose, mind you. Then we continued down, eventually ending up in the Cimetière Montmartre, which is quite a hodgepodge of tombs and monuments. Kind of disorganized, actually. Again we went onward to find the train, but first another half hour in the dingy depths of a mall waiting for everyone to finish in the WC. Arrival back in Montparnasse, through the labyrinth (how do I get OUT of here?), out in the wrong direction as usual, found our way to Hippopotamus (a little slice of the US--Applebee's maybe? TGIFridays? Not quite as much fried fried as those places, but similar) for dinner. Even Ben and Jerry's for dessert. Home, baths, bed...Disney tomorrow!
Aha! I see, it's not open yet. OK, what time is it? 10:15. Huh? Further investigation required. This is NOT a time to fall sheeplike into the back of a line waiting for it to go somewhere. No, we must assert ourselves! (Or at least our right to information). We explored to the South tower, where the stairs are (and, not surprisingly, the shortest line) and asked the people up front if they knew when the gate would open. "Um, no," they said, "maybe not at all." It turns out that the security staff had been on strike yesterday and it appeared they still were today. But nobody really knows, except that opening time was an hour ago and nothing's happening. A whole lot of wishful thinking going on. We joined in for about twenty minutes before quitting.
But NOW what to do? We wandered (aimlessly) down the Champ de Mars, past the protest at the Ecole de la Guerre (Malcolm says "School of war? that's like war school, I bet"), and onto the train where we redirected and headed for Montmartre. Promises of food once we got off helped keep the troops on their feet.
Arrival at Abbesses, up about a thousand stairs just to get out of the Metro! After a short walk we found a small shop selling panini and picked out a couple for our lunch. The local children came home from school and set to work delivering groceries. We took ours down the street and sat in the sun to watch the funicular riding up and down the hill, empty. Also closed, but still working. Fortunately we were strong enough to make it up the hill, now in bright sunshine, to Sacre-Coeur. Admired the incredible view, peeled off a couple layers of clothes, argued with Malcolm about whether he could spend his money on a binocular view. The parental answer was no, and as it turned out he couldn't reach it anyway. But he was somewhat mollified in his need to SPEND by buying a candle for us to light in the church. I bought one too and we all cried a little while we stood together with the candles.
After we went out in the sun again M and I stood in line for the toilet for about half an hour while the girls invented a game on the stairs. Meanwhile a guitarist was holding forth on the front steps and attracting an enormous crowd, singing Bob Marley and such. Cool. Then we went off to find ice cream, but first we gave in to an artist and overpaid (but maybe not too much) for a crayon portrait of the three kids together. It's nice but Seanna looks like 5 or 6 year old Seanna, with rounder cheeks than she has now.
On around through the crazy square full of sidwalk artists, down the hill, the kids stopped to sit in the sun and play a game with stones on the sidewalk while I took a short nap. Not on purpose, mind you. Then we continued down, eventually ending up in the Cimetière Montmartre, which is quite a hodgepodge of tombs and monuments. Kind of disorganized, actually. Again we went onward to find the train, but first another half hour in the dingy depths of a mall waiting for everyone to finish in the WC. Arrival back in Montparnasse, through the labyrinth (how do I get OUT of here?), out in the wrong direction as usual, found our way to Hippopotamus (a little slice of the US--Applebee's maybe? TGIFridays? Not quite as much fried fried as those places, but similar) for dinner. Even Ben and Jerry's for dessert. Home, baths, bed...Disney tomorrow!
Monday, April 6, 2009
Springtime in Berlin
Just a few musings...
Spring seems to happen earlier here than in Boston. We've already had 70° days (well, one, but it's still one) and it's light until almost 8 o'clock. The trees are leafing out, the flowers are blooming, and more importantly, the cafés have put their tables out. Actually, to be more accurate, the tables were out all winter for the most part, but nobody sat at them. Now the tables are, if not filled, at least in use. I'm happy to say that I have already enjoyed a Friday afternoon sitting out at some of those tables with some colleagues enjoying a warm sunny spring day. And what a great way to spend an afternoon!
Part of my thought on this is that it hadn't occurred to me until now how WIDE the sidewalks in Berlin actually are. Not at all unusual to have two or even three tables out from the store front and still plenty of room to walk past. This, combined with the relatively low height of the buildings--rarely more than 5 stories (cousin Jan suggests this has to do with the lack of bedrock to build on, only sand)--makes for a sense of light and openness that is pretty hard to find in Boston. It just feels more CROWDED there.
I think everyone here has some kind of seasonal mood affect. The light has changed really dramatically (even without Daylight Savings Time, which seems to happen at a more civilized point in the cycle than the ridiculous early March date that the US has gone to) and everyone seems happier. Although our principal showed me a weather forecast today from the newspaper which contradicted this: next to forecasts for "spring like weather" (that was the 70°) was the "health" forecast, which predicted that the warm temperatures would increase peoples' blood pressure, stress level, and general anxiety. Apparently the Germans aren't happy unless they have something to complain about...which might explain the concept of schadenfreude?
Spring seems to happen earlier here than in Boston. We've already had 70° days (well, one, but it's still one) and it's light until almost 8 o'clock. The trees are leafing out, the flowers are blooming, and more importantly, the cafés have put their tables out. Actually, to be more accurate, the tables were out all winter for the most part, but nobody sat at them. Now the tables are, if not filled, at least in use. I'm happy to say that I have already enjoyed a Friday afternoon sitting out at some of those tables with some colleagues enjoying a warm sunny spring day. And what a great way to spend an afternoon!
Part of my thought on this is that it hadn't occurred to me until now how WIDE the sidewalks in Berlin actually are. Not at all unusual to have two or even three tables out from the store front and still plenty of room to walk past. This, combined with the relatively low height of the buildings--rarely more than 5 stories (cousin Jan suggests this has to do with the lack of bedrock to build on, only sand)--makes for a sense of light and openness that is pretty hard to find in Boston. It just feels more CROWDED there.
I think everyone here has some kind of seasonal mood affect. The light has changed really dramatically (even without Daylight Savings Time, which seems to happen at a more civilized point in the cycle than the ridiculous early March date that the US has gone to) and everyone seems happier. Although our principal showed me a weather forecast today from the newspaper which contradicted this: next to forecasts for "spring like weather" (that was the 70°) was the "health" forecast, which predicted that the warm temperatures would increase peoples' blood pressure, stress level, and general anxiety. Apparently the Germans aren't happy unless they have something to complain about...which might explain the concept of schadenfreude?
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Addendum
I am reminded that sometimes things work backwards, too. I said that Americans are more culturally inclined to "get 'er done" and Germans seem more likely to just do what's in the job description and no more...but here at BMS the hausmeister (so much more than a custodian) seems to live for school. Not only does he get all kinds of things done (usually cheerfully, I might add) but he even DJ'd the staff party and a colleague's birthday. And while I have worked with a few custodians who were enthused about being in a school and around kids, most could learn something about taking the initiative from Ronny.
It just goes to show that generalizations aren't usually worth depending on.
It just goes to show that generalizations aren't usually worth depending on.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Sidewalk dodging and graph paper
Yeah, this one is a bit of a stretch, but sometimes we have to allow room for weird connections to work their magic. I had to run home at lunchtime the other day to pick up items left behind by Son #1. On the way, as I enjoyed the warm weather and the flowers planted by my neighbors, I had to maintain strict attention lest I stumble into a doggie calling-card. I wondered why nobody does anything about it. The epiphany was that it seems to be part of a significant cultural difference between Americans and Germans: here, the mindset is "I will do exactly what is listed as part of my job description or contained in a directive." If it isn't directed, its "not my fault, not my problem."
Readers of this blog may remember that we had an incident on the class trip in which the "organizers" (I use the term loosely) put out 19 adult bikes for our 31 9- and 10- year olds. Not their job to wonder if there were enough, or if the kids would fit on them.
And on to education. I had a conversation with a parent recently who seemed to feel that his child needs to use paper with lines on it to keep his writing straight--and that I should be insisting on this not only for his boy but also for everyone else. ("Is it normal practice in an international school," he asked me, "for children to write on paper without lines??") I explained that if he felt his child needed lines, HE was free to suggest this. AND that perhaps sometimes the child has to struggle before he sees the value of the tool. But I don't think he understood--because he wanted his child to use lined/graph paper simply because he was told to. The kid didn't need to think, he only needed to follow directions.
Which leads us back to dog poop. American culture suggests that when you see a problem you should try to figure out how to fix it, or at least what you can do to make it better. German culture seems to be more rule-bound--and if it isn't my job, it isn't my problem. So why would anyone scoop the poop? Leaving the rest of us to dodge, and wish for lines on the sidewalk indicating where the poop should be placed.
Readers of this blog may remember that we had an incident on the class trip in which the "organizers" (I use the term loosely) put out 19 adult bikes for our 31 9- and 10- year olds. Not their job to wonder if there were enough, or if the kids would fit on them.
And on to education. I had a conversation with a parent recently who seemed to feel that his child needs to use paper with lines on it to keep his writing straight--and that I should be insisting on this not only for his boy but also for everyone else. ("Is it normal practice in an international school," he asked me, "for children to write on paper without lines??") I explained that if he felt his child needed lines, HE was free to suggest this. AND that perhaps sometimes the child has to struggle before he sees the value of the tool. But I don't think he understood--because he wanted his child to use lined/graph paper simply because he was told to. The kid didn't need to think, he only needed to follow directions.
Which leads us back to dog poop. American culture suggests that when you see a problem you should try to figure out how to fix it, or at least what you can do to make it better. German culture seems to be more rule-bound--and if it isn't my job, it isn't my problem. So why would anyone scoop the poop? Leaving the rest of us to dodge, and wish for lines on the sidewalk indicating where the poop should be placed.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Snow
It was snowing in Berlin all day yesterday, though it really doesn’t seem to snow here like it does in Boston. At the end of a day like that in Boston, we’d have 8 or 9 inches at least. Here, we were left with maybe an inch or two of accumulation, though one of my students who comes from a small town a good way east of Berlin, in the Brandenburg countryside, said they had 40 cm (about 16 inches!) this morning. Here’s a picture from earlier in the year of the schoolyard in snow.
Anyway what I find interesting about snow here is that there doesn’t seem to be any sort of system for dealing with it, though it’s not exactly unexpected. The plan for handling snow seems to be an offshoot of the Bush plan for dealing with global warming: ignore it, and sooner or later it will go away. This extends to streets, sidewalks, anywhere snow might accumulate and be in the way. People walk on it, drive on it, ride their bikes on it, all the normal stuff except the obvious SHOVELING it and PLOWING it.
I’m being somewhat unfair here by not mentioning that many of the streets are paved with cobblestones, and clearly plowing would tear them up. The sidewalks, too, are paved either with granite slabs (about as slippery as anything I can imagine, even when they’re just wet, let alone snowy) or with hundreds of smallish (5 cm) squarish cobbles. Both streets and sidewalks are very attractive, but plowing and shoveling wouldn’t be very practical.
So, instead of getting cleared off, the snow gets packed down into a solid, frozen, slippery crust. The students at school enjoy this crust and (with a little instigation from me, I admit) took to taking a good running start across the playground to seeing how far they could slide. On the other hand, it made the soccer court somewhat more of an adventure than usual. One day two of the kids and I played a game at our local playground in which actual soccer skill was irrelevant, it was only about who could stop and then get going again in the right direction first.
Surprisingly, they don’t use salt here, either, nor sand. Instead they spread tiny bits of broken stone on the sidewalks (see picture), which have a lovely habit of working their way into the soles of your shoes so as to scratch up the nice parquet floors. Perhaps there is some agreement between the flooring companies and the guys who work on the sidewalks; maybe it’s even the same guys but in different seasons. I expect this goes some way toward explaining why in most German households you take your shoes off when you come in; otherwise your floors get ruined and you have to have them refinished or go to IKEA to buy a cheap laminate flooring to put over it. Or a rug, but then you’d need a vacuum cleaner, too. Oy. (Side note: a nice little tradition here is to have a selection of guest slippers that visitors can wear. I like it!)
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Berlinale
We've enjoyed the Berlin Film Festival, also known as the Berlinale. We didn't really get to the big name films, or even get to see the restored big screen epics like West Side Story and Ben Hur. But it's still been pretty interesting to see it going on and to be a part of it in some small way.
Each of us grownups has taken our class to see a set of short films, which is a fun thing to do with a group of students. My class went to see 6 short films, all of which were about young people, with topics ranging from bullies blowing things up to a boy disappearing in a cave opening onto the ocean (did he die? Don't know!) to the finale which involved a trio of girls taking turns pretending to do something they shouldn't in a closet with a spoon. Eewwww....but suffice it to say that this one too was about bullying and in the end the bullied girl spectacularly turned the tables on her tormentors. A little bit of the diner scene from When Harry Met Sally. The kids were really talking about that one! We'll have to hope for not too many parent emails about this trip!
Today we saw an interesting film from the Czech Republic, called Who's Afraid of the Wolf? It was billed as a romance you can take the kids to, but I didn't think it was so kid-friendly. A little girl sees her parents' relationship breaking up after the sudden arrival of her biological father (which she doesn't know anything about) and interprets her mother's weirdness as evidence that she's really an alien. A great reminder of the dangers of making off-hand comments to kids without thinking through how they might interpret it. I probably would have enjoyed it more if I weren't worried about what the kids were thinking.
Each of us grownups has taken our class to see a set of short films, which is a fun thing to do with a group of students. My class went to see 6 short films, all of which were about young people, with topics ranging from bullies blowing things up to a boy disappearing in a cave opening onto the ocean (did he die? Don't know!) to the finale which involved a trio of girls taking turns pretending to do something they shouldn't in a closet with a spoon. Eewwww....but suffice it to say that this one too was about bullying and in the end the bullied girl spectacularly turned the tables on her tormentors. A little bit of the diner scene from When Harry Met Sally. The kids were really talking about that one! We'll have to hope for not too many parent emails about this trip!
Today we saw an interesting film from the Czech Republic, called Who's Afraid of the Wolf? It was billed as a romance you can take the kids to, but I didn't think it was so kid-friendly. A little girl sees her parents' relationship breaking up after the sudden arrival of her biological father (which she doesn't know anything about) and interprets her mother's weirdness as evidence that she's really an alien. A great reminder of the dangers of making off-hand comments to kids without thinking through how they might interpret it. I probably would have enjoyed it more if I weren't worried about what the kids were thinking.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Soccer (excuse me, Fußball) fans
We got on the train today to go wherever it was we were going--just how we get around now, what with no car--and it was jammed with people. Everyone seemed a bit surprised at the crowd, but a few people with blue-and-white scarves, or caps, clued us in that perhaps some of them were headed for Olympiastadion for today's soccer match. Hertha BSC, the local Bundesliga club (for those who don't know, that's like the German major league in soccer), is very good this year. Apparently they are perennial cellar-dwellers who suddenly find themselves atop the league standings.
Anyway we had to change trains at Friedrichstrasse. The train we were switching to was on the track opposite the one going to Olympiastadion, and this platform was even MORE crowded. Now everyone was wearing blue-and-white and it was a bit like Kenmore Square before a Red Sox game. The train pulled in, and we could tell before it stopped that it was full--but the doors opened and it turned out to be full of Bayern München fans! Not surprisingly, the BSC Hertha fans couldn't get in, and as the doors sat open we began to hear some Bayern songs. One brave (foolish?) soul even stuck a Bayern flag out the door and started waving it. The train was literally bouncing on the tracks as it pulled out of the station.
Fortunately everyone seemed pretty good natured about it. Probably with Red Sox-Yankee fans it wouldn't have gone so well.
Anyway we had to change trains at Friedrichstrasse. The train we were switching to was on the track opposite the one going to Olympiastadion, and this platform was even MORE crowded. Now everyone was wearing blue-and-white and it was a bit like Kenmore Square before a Red Sox game. The train pulled in, and we could tell before it stopped that it was full--but the doors opened and it turned out to be full of Bayern München fans! Not surprisingly, the BSC Hertha fans couldn't get in, and as the doors sat open we began to hear some Bayern songs. One brave (foolish?) soul even stuck a Bayern flag out the door and started waving it. The train was literally bouncing on the tracks as it pulled out of the station.
Fortunately everyone seemed pretty good natured about it. Probably with Red Sox-Yankee fans it wouldn't have gone so well.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Tropical Islands. In Germany.
For more photos of this adventure, check out our SmugMug gallery by clicking here
Wednesday, we went tropical. Or maybe we should say Tropical, as in Tropical Islands. Something of a cross between Club Med, an enclosed stadium, and your typical suburban mall, Tropical Islands boasts the world’s largest indoor rainforest and the highest water slide in
Germany. It also has a “spa,” which translates into English as “naked sauna” and to Russian (I think) as something about “nudystlow,” or “place for the nudies.” Not surprisingly, TI also appears to have the world’s highest prices for a mall-quality burger and fries and the most-understaffed ice cream bar. Despite this particular annoyance we enjoyed ourselves quite a bit. And no fear of sunburn!
We found ourselves at TI thanks to a lovely (and much appreciated!) gift from some parents in my class. As we weren’t going anywhere in this dreary February vacation, and we had gift certificates that covered the entrance fee (which isn’t unreasonable), we decided to give it a shot. Sadly, the beach tents and hotel rooms were all fully booked for the whole month, so despite assurances from the folks on the phone that it would be OK if we just wanted to sleep on the beach, we decided to just go for the day.
Up and out early (for us), on the train by 9, arriving at TI via a shuttle bus ride through the abandoned air base where it’s situated (ah, capitalism!). Having fought our way through the crowds, we are assigned lockers, each of which is opened magnetically by a numbered wristband. This is genius. There is no need for money at TI (see the ClubMed bit here?) because all you need is your wristband. Just wave it at the register, or the entrance to the water slide, or whatever, and the cost is added to your bill. The problem, of course, is familiar to those from Boston—kind of a Charlie and the MTA issue. Whatever you spend, you have to pay to get out. We all wondered what would happen if you didn’t have the money.
Anyway, the first sign that things were different was the woman changing into her swimsuit right there next to me in the locker area. Not like the good ol’ USA where you could get arrested for something like that. We all managed to get changed (some of us in changing rooms, some not) and headed out to the beach.
The beach turned out to be about 5 yards wide, facing the “sea,” a giant 1.5-meter deep swimming pool faced on the other side by a giant blue wall painted to look like the sky. If you’re thinking “The Truman Show,” you’ve got it about right. People are packed into every available millimeter, and we had to shoehorn ourselves into a spot. It’s not really summer-hot in there, and it definitely isn’t sunny, but it was nice enough to go swimming. Lifeguards (and space) seemed to be in short supply, so there wasn’t much in the way of relaxing on the beach for the grownups.
After an overpriced lunch, we swam some more and then headed to the spa area to try to relax and warm up. Our children demonstrated their deep-set sheepiness and baa’ed their way after Mommy despite assurances that they didn’t HAVE to go to the spa. Well, anyway, it really was for the nudies. They even had an attendant come over to the whirlpool and tell those cowards who tried to sneak in with their suits (not us!) that they had to get out and take them off. We saw a lot of different comfort levels with this concept…some folks kept a towel wrapped around them while they stripped down, looking around nervously, some just couldn’t bring themselves to do it at all, and others just strolled about in their nothingness. It didn’t take long for the kids to recognize that although they were mostly OK with the naked thing (after all, we’re not so modest at our house), they didn’t really like sitting around in a REALLY hot room doing nothing. So it didn’t end up being all that relaxing as we kept having to get up and go back out. I never did try the room which was listed at 85-90° C (about 190 F) and 5% humidity. Now THAT’S hot.
We waited in an excruciatingly long line for excruciatingly mediocre ice cream, then split up for mini-golf and a trip to the lagoon, which turned out to be a lot of fun. Two water slides in the dark, a huge waterfall, kid-friendly depth, and warm water made it a great place to play. Should have come here first! Then we chose play time over another excruciatingly overpriced food experience and headed to the WATERSLIDES. No joke here. The red one was cool, big enough to ride with inner tubes. The yellow was high, lots of twists and turns, fast and much fun. The blue slide…a different kettle of fish all together. Straight. High. Steep. Very narrow and closed, so you can’t sit up. Once you’re in, there’s just about time to say “Oh my God, this is too stee—“ before you’re whipping around the corner, water shooting up your nose, and into the tank at the bottom. Worth doing once; maybe the second time, when you know what it is, it’s more fun, but none of us were interested after one trip down.
By the time we finished on the slides it was 7:00 and we were running out of steam. We watched a bit of the “show,” (clearly still in the rehearsal stages, though there were some cool acrobatics) then packed up and headed out. Stood in the changing area with daughter no. 1 in full winter dress while a woman at the other end walked about in her bikini. Strange juxtaposition. Missed the shuttle bus we wanted, and had to wait 45 minutes for the next one.
The bus was late. We knew the train wouldn’t be (it IS Germany, after all). The driver seemed in no hurry…stopping to chat with his pals, taking his time, casually meandering through the parking lot…it wasn’t ONLY us uptight Americans who wanted to grab and shake him. The next train, after all, wasn’t leaving for TWO HOURS. After 15 agonizing minutes of cruising back down the deserted taxiways, past abandoned hangars, and out onto the local roads, we arrived in time to send the bus full of people sprinting through the tunnel to the Berlin side of the tracks. We all made it with at least two minutes to spare…and so, home.
Wednesday, we went tropical. Or maybe we should say Tropical, as in Tropical Islands. Something of a cross between Club Med, an enclosed stadium, and your typical suburban mall, Tropical Islands boasts the world’s largest indoor rainforest and the highest water slide in
Germany. It also has a “spa,” which translates into English as “naked sauna” and to Russian (I think) as something about “nudystlow,” or “place for the nudies.” Not surprisingly, TI also appears to have the world’s highest prices for a mall-quality burger and fries and the most-understaffed ice cream bar. Despite this particular annoyance we enjoyed ourselves quite a bit. And no fear of sunburn!We found ourselves at TI thanks to a lovely (and much appreciated!) gift from some parents in my class. As we weren’t going anywhere in this dreary February vacation, and we had gift certificates that covered the entrance fee (which isn’t unreasonable), we decided to give it a shot. Sadly, the beach tents and hotel rooms were all fully booked for the whole month, so despite assurances from the folks on the phone that it would be OK if we just wanted to sleep on the beach, we decided to just go for the day.
Up and out early (for us), on the train by 9, arriving at TI via a shuttle bus ride through the abandoned air base where it’s situated (ah, capitalism!). Having fought our way through the crowds, we are assigned lockers, each of which is opened magnetically by a numbered wristband. This is genius. There is no need for money at TI (see the ClubMed bit here?) because all you need is your wristband. Just wave it at the register, or the entrance to the water slide, or whatever, and the cost is added to your bill. The problem, of course, is familiar to those from Boston—kind of a Charlie and the MTA issue. Whatever you spend, you have to pay to get out. We all wondered what would happen if you didn’t have the money.
Anyway, the first sign that things were different was the woman changing into her swimsuit right there next to me in the locker area. Not like the good ol’ USA where you could get arrested for something like that. We all managed to get changed (some of us in changing rooms, some not) and headed out to the beach.
The beach turned out to be about 5 yards wide, facing the “sea,” a giant 1.5-meter deep swimming pool faced on the other side by a giant blue wall painted to look like the sky. If you’re thinking “The Truman Show,” you’ve got it about right. People are packed into every available millimeter, and we had to shoehorn ourselves into a spot. It’s not really summer-hot in there, and it definitely isn’t sunny, but it was nice enough to go swimming. Lifeguards (and space) seemed to be in short supply, so there wasn’t much in the way of relaxing on the beach for the grownups.After an overpriced lunch, we swam some more and then headed to the spa area to try to relax and warm up. Our children demonstrated their deep-set sheepiness and baa’ed their way after Mommy despite assurances that they didn’t HAVE to go to the spa. Well, anyway, it really was for the nudies. They even had an attendant come over to the whirlpool and tell those cowards who tried to sneak in with their suits (not us!) that they had to get out and take them off. We saw a lot of different comfort levels with this concept…some folks kept a towel wrapped around them while they stripped down, looking around nervously, some just couldn’t bring themselves to do it at all, and others just strolled about in their nothingness. It didn’t take long for the kids to recognize that although they were mostly OK with the naked thing (after all, we’re not so modest at our house), they didn’t really like sitting around in a REALLY hot room doing nothing. So it didn’t end up being all that relaxing as we kept having to get up and go back out. I never did try the room which was listed at 85-90° C (about 190 F) and 5% humidity. Now THAT’S hot.
We waited in an excruciatingly long line for excruciatingly mediocre ice cream, then split up for mini-golf and a trip to the lagoon, which turned out to be a lot of fun. Two water slides in the dark, a huge waterfall, kid-friendly depth, and warm water made it a great place to play. Should have come here first! Then we chose play time over another excruciatingly overpriced food experience and headed to the WATERSLIDES. No joke here. The red one was cool, big enough to ride with inner tubes. The yellow was high, lots of twists and turns, fast and much fun. The blue slide…a different kettle of fish all together. Straight. High. Steep. Very narrow and closed, so you can’t sit up. Once you’re in, there’s just about time to say “Oh my God, this is too stee—“ before you’re whipping around the corner, water shooting up your nose, and into the tank at the bottom. Worth doing once; maybe the second time, when you know what it is, it’s more fun, but none of us were interested after one trip down.
By the time we finished on the slides it was 7:00 and we were running out of steam. We watched a bit of the “show,” (clearly still in the rehearsal stages, though there were some cool acrobatics) then packed up and headed out. Stood in the changing area with daughter no. 1 in full winter dress while a woman at the other end walked about in her bikini. Strange juxtaposition. Missed the shuttle bus we wanted, and had to wait 45 minutes for the next one.
The bus was late. We knew the train wouldn’t be (it IS Germany, after all). The driver seemed in no hurry…stopping to chat with his pals, taking his time, casually meandering through the parking lot…it wasn’t ONLY us uptight Americans who wanted to grab and shake him. The next train, after all, wasn’t leaving for TWO HOURS. After 15 agonizing minutes of cruising back down the deserted taxiways, past abandoned hangars, and out onto the local roads, we arrived in time to send the bus full of people sprinting through the tunnel to the Berlin side of the tracks. We all made it with at least two minutes to spare…and so, home.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Musings on a wayward son
M.'s first grade teacher leaned over to me during our last staff meeting. "We need to talk," she whispered. Hmm, I thought, nothing good can be in the offing. There are three possibilities that occur to a parent at times like this. Possibly something embarassing happened, like a big spill, or wet pants, and she wants to let me know that his feelings were hurt. Or, door #2, someone did something bad to him, like knocking him down at recess (though here that happens to kids all the time with no one paying any attention at all). Or possibly, worst case scenario, he did something bad enough to be worthy of notification from the teacher. It's not quite like getting a phone call home, but this little whisper, "we need to talk," has that odor to it. (I'm reminded of the occasional phone calls I've made to parents where before I say anything parents are asking "what did he/she do?")
So after the meeting we step aside, and his teacher doesn't pull any punches. "He started a food fight in the cafeteria." Somehow I'm not as shocked as I would have expected myself to be. Maybe because I can't quite picture a bunch of first graders winging noodles and sauce about and dumping potatoes on each others' heads, so it can't really have been that bad, but maybe also because perhaps I've seen something like this coming. M has been a bit edgy lately, and struggling to do what he really knows is the right thing. Not being bad, just having a hard time making the right choices.
So of course I'm apologetic, and his teacher is very kind and not at all blaming (though maybe she was more than a little annoyed, she seems to be thoroughly over it by now--a nice characteristic in a first grade teacher). And I promise to be firm with the boy, and to let him know that it isn't OK, and that I expect him to make some action of apology to make up for it, etc.
But lurking in the back of my brain...high five! You started a food fight?! You are SO much cooler than I ever was! Way to go, little buddy!
Don't tell him I said that.
So after the meeting we step aside, and his teacher doesn't pull any punches. "He started a food fight in the cafeteria." Somehow I'm not as shocked as I would have expected myself to be. Maybe because I can't quite picture a bunch of first graders winging noodles and sauce about and dumping potatoes on each others' heads, so it can't really have been that bad, but maybe also because perhaps I've seen something like this coming. M has been a bit edgy lately, and struggling to do what he really knows is the right thing. Not being bad, just having a hard time making the right choices.
So of course I'm apologetic, and his teacher is very kind and not at all blaming (though maybe she was more than a little annoyed, she seems to be thoroughly over it by now--a nice characteristic in a first grade teacher). And I promise to be firm with the boy, and to let him know that it isn't OK, and that I expect him to make some action of apology to make up for it, etc.
But lurking in the back of my brain...high five! You started a food fight?! You are SO much cooler than I ever was! Way to go, little buddy!
Don't tell him I said that.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Trick or Treating in Berlin
On Hallowe’en, we still had not gotten candy so we went out and bought some but not very much. There wouldn’t be so many kids. We all got ready to meet Malcolm’s friend for Trick-or-treating after we decided what to be. I was a prisoner with a shirt that said “PRISONER,” black and white striped tights, black and gray striped socks, navy blue shorts and a pillowcase. The pillowcase was two things: a bag of stolen money (not really) and a candy bag!
Seanna was a witch with my witch cape, purple and black striped tights, and a black shirt. Malcolm was “Karate Man” with his karate uniform. He didn’t have a belt with him so we tied a pair of long purple socks together and used that. We didn’t go to very many houses but we went to a lot of stores. There were a few funny things:
At one house, they gave us cough drops.
At one restaurant they gave us sugar packets.
We went to an art gallery where the man said “Sorry, I only have two pieces of cake and I can’t give each of you a piece.”
Somebody else said “I can give you wine…”
At one store they tried to give us lemons.
And then we got back home and our friend had just got back from France so we shared our candy with him. It was really fun!
Seanna was a witch with my witch cape, purple and black striped tights, and a black shirt. Malcolm was “Karate Man” with his karate uniform. He didn’t have a belt with him so we tied a pair of long purple socks together and used that. We didn’t go to very many houses but we went to a lot of stores. There were a few funny things:
At one house, they gave us cough drops.
At one restaurant they gave us sugar packets.
We went to an art gallery where the man said “Sorry, I only have two pieces of cake and I can’t give each of you a piece.”
Somebody else said “I can give you wine…”
At one store they tried to give us lemons.
And then we got back home and our friend had just got back from France so we shared our candy with him. It was really fun!
Friday, October 31, 2008
Acrostic Alps
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Life As A One-School Family
We all go—all five of us—to the same school every day. At home we have been at as many as 4 different schools—a preschool, two elementary schools (one for teaching and one for learning) and a middle school. We’ll have that again when we go back, only with two middle schools and two elementary schools.
But right now, we all walk three blocks to ONE school. This takes about ten minutes, or 15 when the boys (we’ve picked up a friend along the way) walk slow. Which is most days. Getting out of the house is its own issue with Mommy and Daddy invariably FRUSTRATED!! because we need to be there before our students and one or another of the kids dawdling along. Once we arrive, drop-off consists of a 10-yard detour to one child’s locker, a hug and a kiss in the stairwell for another, and with the third there IS no drop-off, as we share a classroom. We all see each other throughout the day at recess, lunch, in the teachers’ room, passing in the hallway…we’ve never been so together for so long. It’s like camp, but we get to go home together every day for whatever dinner we can summon the energy to cook.
Even more interesting is the effect on our dinner conversation. There’s no opportunity for the usual “What did you do today at school?” “Nothing, I don’t know,” interchange—because we’ve seen all the teachers at least once and we know all their friends and we’ve even been in class with them. So we TALK. There has never been so much conversation about what they’ve been doing. We talk about funny things that happened in class, injuries on the playground (see my previous posting on playgrounds for thoughts about that), what we learned…it’s great to know that we can as a family have conversation about what we like and what interests us and what’s frustrating. It’s possible (likely, even) that we won’t ever have an extended time like this again. What a blessing that we get to take advantage of this experience together for this year!
But right now, we all walk three blocks to ONE school. This takes about ten minutes, or 15 when the boys (we’ve picked up a friend along the way) walk slow. Which is most days. Getting out of the house is its own issue with Mommy and Daddy invariably FRUSTRATED!! because we need to be there before our students and one or another of the kids dawdling along. Once we arrive, drop-off consists of a 10-yard detour to one child’s locker, a hug and a kiss in the stairwell for another, and with the third there IS no drop-off, as we share a classroom. We all see each other throughout the day at recess, lunch, in the teachers’ room, passing in the hallway…we’ve never been so together for so long. It’s like camp, but we get to go home together every day for whatever dinner we can summon the energy to cook.
Even more interesting is the effect on our dinner conversation. There’s no opportunity for the usual “What did you do today at school?” “Nothing, I don’t know,” interchange—because we’ve seen all the teachers at least once and we know all their friends and we’ve even been in class with them. So we TALK. There has never been so much conversation about what they’ve been doing. We talk about funny things that happened in class, injuries on the playground (see my previous posting on playgrounds for thoughts about that), what we learned…it’s great to know that we can as a family have conversation about what we like and what interests us and what’s frustrating. It’s possible (likely, even) that we won’t ever have an extended time like this again. What a blessing that we get to take advantage of this experience together for this year!
Friday, October 3, 2008
Klassenfahrt II
Be sure to read "Class Trip" first, so you know what in the heck I'm talking about here.
Essentially, on this trip we were up against the flip side of the fabled German bureaucracy—while some things are efficient, no one will do anything that isn’t part of the job description. So some pretty amazing things were left to chance because nobody bothered to think through whether it was actually a good idea. What follows is hard for anyone who has done this kind of thing in the US to imagine, but it’s all true:
On Wednesday, we had scheduled a bike tour …as we (3 adults, 30 nine- and ten-year olds) arrived at the equipment area I looked over at the wind whipping down the river and commented bleakly on the prospects for Thursday’s canoe journey. (This may seem like a non-sequitur, but it will come up again!) Anyway, we found waiting for us a row of 19 adult sized bikes. And nobody to direct us. Hello? Eventually a guy from the adjacent water sports group wandered over and said “there are some more bikes over there,” pointing to a row of 10 somewhat smaller bikes on the other side of a field. We headed over there to see what we could do, but things went rapidly downhill. Not enough bikes, wrong sizes, helmet didn’t fit, kids riding and running all over the place. By now there were two guys helping out but they didn’t seem to have a plan either and I got more and more aggravated. After an HOUR and a couple good rounds of “You are happy! Now you’re happy! You are happy! Hooray!” we had almost everyone on a bike and in a helmet. Which basically meant that we couldn’t all ride. At which point we said, “SCREW THIS!” And as soon as we had cast aside the pitiful and pathetic plan provided by the place we were staying, we discovered how ridiculous it really was.
It turned out that the guys helping us actually only worked for the sports training site next door. They had been alerted FIVE MINUTES before our arrival that we were coming and were only helping out the camp to be nice. As they fitted our kids with bikes they kept getting calls from the woman in charge at our place wondering where we were. How is it that she had never wondered how our group was going to fit on the bikes that she owned? Not her problem, apparently. Our new bike friends hadn’t wanted to steal customers, but they were pretty pissed at being left holding the bag on a bike trip that they hadn't planned. So once we had ditched the bike trip they immediately offered an afternoon of archery and rock climbing! Cool! The kids cheered loudly. So half the kids went off to shoot bows and arrows while we took a smaller group biking. Needless to say we didn’t have a clue where we were going and discovered some terrain that was, well, OK for a hike but not so much for bikes—a hill that seemed to go straight up and a windy, slippery, steep trail down the other side. But we only made two kids cry. And then they got to go climbing!
I tell you, I was really happy to sit back with a beer after the campfire that night. Ah yes, by now you’ve forgotten the fact that the kids were in cabins on their own! Which meant that we were free (encouraged, even—nay, commanded, I kid you not) to supply ourselves with beer and wine for our evening use after the kids went to bed. Nothing too surprising at camp, maybe, but on a school trip???
Anyway, the next day we were scheduled to go canoeing. After the biking fiasco I was a little worried (a little?) about this plan. One of our rescuers from the day before came by to clue us in—our uninterested and incompetent host had one giant war canoe for about half the kids, the rest in small boats twos and threes--with no instruction but with a motorboat to accompany us and pull the kids out when they flipped. Which, given the winds I’d seen the day before, they certainly would. Only the motorboat guy had called to say he wasn’t coming. By now I was having visions of the fabled Waramaug trip spread across half of Lake Champlain.
Thankfully our helpful friends from next door stepped up again and produced a second war canoe to take the other half of the kids—and thankfully I know a little about paddling and was
able to guide it. So we piled 15 kids in one and 15 in the other (a bit squeezy, but OK) and off we went. Nobody knew the first thing about paddling and for much of the way it was complete chaos. Eventually I remembered to be along for the ride and just sat back ruddering while the kids fought with each other about who was paddling harder. Eventually they more or less got it together and we made a good learning experience out of it.
That night after dinner the kids threw a party in the “house” they had built in the woods, complete with a paved floor and benches. They pooled their money and bought refreshments at the snack bar. No planned activities could ever produce this kind of teamwork and initiative from 30 kids. When we did our final positive sharings on Friday morning, sang “Aroostasha” one more time, and did a rousing “Grade 5” cheer, it was—at it was meant to be—a TEAM. What fun!
Essentially, on this trip we were up against the flip side of the fabled German bureaucracy—while some things are efficient, no one will do anything that isn’t part of the job description. So some pretty amazing things were left to chance because nobody bothered to think through whether it was actually a good idea. What follows is hard for anyone who has done this kind of thing in the US to imagine, but it’s all true:
On Wednesday, we had scheduled a bike tour …as we (3 adults, 30 nine- and ten-year olds) arrived at the equipment area I looked over at the wind whipping down the river and commented bleakly on the prospects for Thursday’s canoe journey. (This may seem like a non-sequitur, but it will come up again!) Anyway, we found waiting for us a row of 19 adult sized bikes. And nobody to direct us. Hello? Eventually a guy from the adjacent water sports group wandered over and said “there are some more bikes over there,” pointing to a row of 10 somewhat smaller bikes on the other side of a field. We headed over there to see what we could do, but things went rapidly downhill. Not enough bikes, wrong sizes, helmet didn’t fit, kids riding and running all over the place. By now there were two guys helping out but they didn’t seem to have a plan either and I got more and more aggravated. After an HOUR and a couple good rounds of “You are happy! Now you’re happy! You are happy! Hooray!” we had almost everyone on a bike and in a helmet. Which basically meant that we couldn’t all ride. At which point we said, “SCREW THIS!” And as soon as we had cast aside the pitiful and pathetic plan provided by the place we were staying, we discovered how ridiculous it really was.
It turned out that the guys helping us actually only worked for the sports training site next door. They had been alerted FIVE MINUTES before our arrival that we were coming and were only helping out the camp to be nice. As they fitted our kids with bikes they kept getting calls from the woman in charge at our place wondering where we were. How is it that she had never wondered how our group was going to fit on the bikes that she owned? Not her problem, apparently. Our new bike friends hadn’t wanted to steal customers, but they were pretty pissed at being left holding the bag on a bike trip that they hadn't planned. So once we had ditched the bike trip they immediately offered an afternoon of archery and rock climbing! Cool! The kids cheered loudly. So half the kids went off to shoot bows and arrows while we took a smaller group biking. Needless to say we didn’t have a clue where we were going and discovered some terrain that was, well, OK for a hike but not so much for bikes—a hill that seemed to go straight up and a windy, slippery, steep trail down the other side. But we only made two kids cry. And then they got to go climbing!
I tell you, I was really happy to sit back with a beer after the campfire that night. Ah yes, by now you’ve forgotten the fact that the kids were in cabins on their own! Which meant that we were free (encouraged, even—nay, commanded, I kid you not) to supply ourselves with beer and wine for our evening use after the kids went to bed. Nothing too surprising at camp, maybe, but on a school trip???
Anyway, the next day we were scheduled to go canoeing. After the biking fiasco I was a little worried (a little?) about this plan. One of our rescuers from the day before came by to clue us in—our uninterested and incompetent host had one giant war canoe for about half the kids, the rest in small boats twos and threes--with no instruction but with a motorboat to accompany us and pull the kids out when they flipped. Which, given the winds I’d seen the day before, they certainly would. Only the motorboat guy had called to say he wasn’t coming. By now I was having visions of the fabled Waramaug trip spread across half of Lake Champlain.
Thankfully our helpful friends from next door stepped up again and produced a second war canoe to take the other half of the kids—and thankfully I know a little about paddling and was
able to guide it. So we piled 15 kids in one and 15 in the other (a bit squeezy, but OK) and off we went. Nobody knew the first thing about paddling and for much of the way it was complete chaos. Eventually I remembered to be along for the ride and just sat back ruddering while the kids fought with each other about who was paddling harder. Eventually they more or less got it together and we made a good learning experience out of it.That night after dinner the kids threw a party in the “house” they had built in the woods, complete with a paved floor and benches. They pooled their money and bought refreshments at the snack bar. No planned activities could ever produce this kind of teamwork and initiative from 30 kids. When we did our final positive sharings on Friday morning, sang “Aroostasha” one more time, and did a rousing “Grade 5” cheer, it was—at it was meant to be—a TEAM. What fun!
The Class Trip
We’ve been back for a week and I’ve had time to reflect on the Klassenfahrt (what? A class fart? Are you paying attention now?), which is German for Class Trip. Over the years I’ve been involved in a lot of these adventures in US middle schools, and while this one was similar in its basic structure, in many ways it was an entirely different experience. Remember that these are 5th graders and that we took them for 4 days and 5 nights, which in itself is somewhat remarkable. But I think I need to tell more of the story…
The week began like many other class trip Mondays—whether it be Nature’s Classroom, KEEC, Sargent Camp, whatever—the kids gather at school with their various bags, parents mill about looking alternately proud of their grown-up kid, worried they’ve forgotten to pack Teddy, thrilled they have a week with one fewer kid to think about, and panicked that something might happen without them there to fix it. But as always, we managed to collect the various forms we still needed, get medications gathered, make a pile of the pocket knives (?see? I told you it was different) and, when the bus FINALLY arrived (OK, not so different from home) we herded everyone on.
The bus wound its way through the city streets for a remarkably long time—Berlin is amazing in how far it goes at a fairly high density—until we finally headed out into the Brandenburg countryside. Brandenburg, the German state to the west of Berlin, was part of the DDR (East Germany) and while Berlin is quite modern and cosmopolitan it remains quite conservative and has a reputation for harboring a significant neo-Nazi population. We didn’t experience any of this, but I suppose it’s sort of like driving an hour out of Boston and being in, say, Idaho. (PS I have since been reminded that while Brandenburg IS in fact to the west of Berlin, it is also to the East, North, and South. So I have revealed myself as painfully ignorant regarding German geography. Ouch!)
Anyway we arrived easily enough climbed off the bus to the first main difference. Those of you who have done some work in environmental education know that usually the staff greets the arriving campers immediately to begin establishing the expectations and showing kids where things were. In contrast, we milled about while one of the teachers (the ONE of us who speaks German) went to collect the room keys. Someone came by and dropped off a big wagon to carry our gear. We went off (on our own, mind you) to find our cabins. We gave the kids their cabin groups amid much wailing and gnashing of teeth, passed out the sheets and pillowcases (another big difference—no sleeping bags!) and retreated to the adult cabin.
This bears repeating. We retreated to the adult cabin. That is to say, there were no adults in the kids’ cabins. You heard right. Each group of 5 kids had their own “bungalow” with two rooms and a bathroom. We three teachers had our own bungalow, separate from any kids at all. Whoa. You’ll see why that is REALLY different later on.
OK, back to our adventures. Lunch was pretty uneventful; essentially it was like a little cafeteria, but it was gradually becoming clear that we the teachers were really on our own. This theme really carried through the week—while some of the activities planned were “guided” (in a manner of speaking) we pretty much had to run things ourselves, as there wasn’t in fact any staff there. A few examples:
I was really worried about the disco night but that turned out to be a blast—obviously the woman in charge had spent the whole week playing with her song list instead of taking care of activities. And in the end, the kids had a great time, learned a bunch of crazy new songs from yours truly, and came together as a team. Which is what the whole thing was for, anyway. What curriculum did we cover? None. What standards were we addressing? Only the ones that have to do with behavior towards peers and learning to get along. Are those important?
The week began like many other class trip Mondays—whether it be Nature’s Classroom, KEEC, Sargent Camp, whatever—the kids gather at school with their various bags, parents mill about looking alternately proud of their grown-up kid, worried they’ve forgotten to pack Teddy, thrilled they have a week with one fewer kid to think about, and panicked that something might happen without them there to fix it. But as always, we managed to collect the various forms we still needed, get medications gathered, make a pile of the pocket knives (?see? I told you it was different) and, when the bus FINALLY arrived (OK, not so different from home) we herded everyone on.The bus wound its way through the city streets for a remarkably long time—Berlin is amazing in how far it goes at a fairly high density—until we finally headed out into the Brandenburg countryside. Brandenburg, the German state to the west of Berlin, was part of the DDR (East Germany) and while Berlin is quite modern and cosmopolitan it remains quite conservative and has a reputation for harboring a significant neo-Nazi population. We didn’t experience any of this, but I suppose it’s sort of like driving an hour out of Boston and being in, say, Idaho. (PS I have since been reminded that while Brandenburg IS in fact to the west of Berlin, it is also to the East, North, and South. So I have revealed myself as painfully ignorant regarding German geography. Ouch!)
Anyway we arrived easily enough climbed off the bus to the first main difference. Those of you who have done some work in environmental education know that usually the staff greets the arriving campers immediately to begin establishing the expectations and showing kids where things were. In contrast, we milled about while one of the teachers (the ONE of us who speaks German) went to collect the room keys. Someone came by and dropped off a big wagon to carry our gear. We went off (on our own, mind you) to find our cabins. We gave the kids their cabin groups amid much wailing and gnashing of teeth, passed out the sheets and pillowcases (another big difference—no sleeping bags!) and retreated to the adult cabin.
This bears repeating. We retreated to the adult cabin. That is to say, there were no adults in the kids’ cabins. You heard right. Each group of 5 kids had their own “bungalow” with two rooms and a bathroom. We three teachers had our own bungalow, separate from any kids at all. Whoa. You’ll see why that is REALLY different later on.
OK, back to our adventures. Lunch was pretty uneventful; essentially it was like a little cafeteria, but it was gradually becoming clear that we the teachers were really on our own. This theme really carried through the week—while some of the activities planned were “guided” (in a manner of speaking) we pretty much had to run things ourselves, as there wasn’t in fact any staff there. A few examples:
- An art activity in which kids made small animals from toilet paper tubes or painted pre-cast plaster molds. Um. This taught them what?
- A “grill night” which meant that we had to cook dinner. OK, granted that they provided the meats, but it was pretty much like Thursday night BBQ at camp with me slaving over a hot grill.
- A campfire (which, by the way, we paid for) for which we had to collect our own wood, build the fire, and provide the entertainment. Good thing I’ve done a few of these over the years…Keewaydin folks would have recognized most of it.
- A “fox hunt” in which one group went out and left a trail of little paper foxes so the other group could track them, then hid in the woods. This filled (if you can believe it) a whole hour! And (imagine my voice dripping with sarcasm) it took SO much planning!
I was really worried about the disco night but that turned out to be a blast—obviously the woman in charge had spent the whole week playing with her song list instead of taking care of activities. And in the end, the kids had a great time, learned a bunch of crazy new songs from yours truly, and came together as a team. Which is what the whole thing was for, anyway. What curriculum did we cover? None. What standards were we addressing? Only the ones that have to do with behavior towards peers and learning to get along. Are those important?
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Komputeren
One issue that has taken some getting used to is that the computers here speak German, and I don’t. An interesting point in the translation of English and German is that there are many words which have analogues; for example, the word for shoe is schuh and the word for hand is hand and the word for glove is…handschuh. Which isn’t exactly an analogue, but if you’re paying attention at least you can figure it out.
Computer terminology, on the other hand, is NOT the same and appears to have few overlaps. One exception is kopieren, which means (not surprisingly to those of you still reading) copy. But drucken for print and speichern for save are not immediately obvious, and I won’t begin to try to recall words for “move file” or “log out.” Thank goodness for universal icons like a little disk or a little picture of a printer. And really all of this would be fine if everything were in the same place—you know, there’s a drop-down menu called “file,” and that’s where one finds commands like print and save. Next to that is one called “edit,” and while I can’t name those commands off the top of my head past cut, copy, and paste, I pretty much know how to find what I need without worrying about what it says. I figure it could be in Russian and if the commands were in the same spot, I would find them OK.
Here is where we’ve been thrown the proverbial curveball. Our school has nothing but the best, of course, which (naturally) includes updated software like (again, natch) Windows and Word two thousand-whatever which are new and improved and totally different. Everything’s all like spiffy and streamlined and fancified and looks nothing like it used to. Which, (and now you’re starting to see my point) would be fine IF IT WAS IN ENGLISH. Which it’s not. It wouldn’t even help to have one of those Dummies books, because not only am I a dummy I’m a dummy who’s functionally illiterate. Thus rendering the book functionally useless, except maybe as a doorstop or perhaps on the kitchen table to hold a hot bowl.
Even typing a simple line of text requires mastery of something new. The keyboard is in German, too, and to make room for all the different letters with umlauts, and the fact that German hardly ever uses a “y,” things have been moved around. “Today is Monday” suddenly becomes “Todaz is Mondaz;” the apostrophe and colon turn into umlauted a’s and o’s. I spend minutes looking for a question mark or a slash. Not to mention the @ sign, which turns out to be on the Q but you have to use the “Alt Gr” key, whatever that is.
SO…tasks which used to be simple become time-eating missions on the starship Impossible. “Can anyone tell me how to insert a page break?” I say, and immediately a crowd gathers around my computer with people suggesting various combinations of left and right mouse clicks, pointing to German words in unfamiliar spots, and asking each other what that icon means. “What do you want to put a break in for anyway?” someone asks, and three other people recommend that I just find some other way to do it while everyone else wanders off muttering. Eventually someone who speaks German (but not computer) happens by and, after mulling it over for about ten seconds, says “try that one,” and of course it works. At home this would have taken all of 6 seconds for me to do; here, it’s taken about 6 of us 10 minutes which accounts for one human-hour of work time. Gads.
Needless to say, when a variety of things that look like error messages (“Achtung!) pop up as I’m trying to Abmelden, I generally click “ja” or “nein” or “OK” as quickly as possible in the hope that I can get away before the computer begins to smoke and I get blamed. So far my strategy has worked and nothing has broken for which I can be held responsible. I do most of my email and type these posts at home where I can happily sit in front of my own laptop, which listens to me when I tell it what to do.
Which brings me to the other problem, which is that my own computer apparently doesn’t speak German either. In this day and age internet use and email seem essential for communication, and we thought it would be fairly easy to link up somehow. When we arrived, our upstairs neighbor offered to help us get connected, and when after a couple of days we were still struggling, we took him up on his suggestion. He told us there was a wireless network in the building (in fact we could see a number of them, but all were security protected…darn) and he’d get us the password. Only this particular network wasn’t available. We searched. We tried again. We went up and got his key to the other guys apartment and went in while they weren’t there and sat next to the stupid wireless router with the computer and…nothing. Meanwhile his iPhone is happily talking to it. ???? Apparently our computer doesn’t speak enough German to communicate with the router. Do you suppose it gets frustrated, too?
Computer terminology, on the other hand, is NOT the same and appears to have few overlaps. One exception is kopieren, which means (not surprisingly to those of you still reading) copy. But drucken for print and speichern for save are not immediately obvious, and I won’t begin to try to recall words for “move file” or “log out.” Thank goodness for universal icons like a little disk or a little picture of a printer. And really all of this would be fine if everything were in the same place—you know, there’s a drop-down menu called “file,” and that’s where one finds commands like print and save. Next to that is one called “edit,” and while I can’t name those commands off the top of my head past cut, copy, and paste, I pretty much know how to find what I need without worrying about what it says. I figure it could be in Russian and if the commands were in the same spot, I would find them OK.
Here is where we’ve been thrown the proverbial curveball. Our school has nothing but the best, of course, which (naturally) includes updated software like (again, natch) Windows and Word two thousand-whatever which are new and improved and totally different. Everything’s all like spiffy and streamlined and fancified and looks nothing like it used to. Which, (and now you’re starting to see my point) would be fine IF IT WAS IN ENGLISH. Which it’s not. It wouldn’t even help to have one of those Dummies books, because not only am I a dummy I’m a dummy who’s functionally illiterate. Thus rendering the book functionally useless, except maybe as a doorstop or perhaps on the kitchen table to hold a hot bowl.
Even typing a simple line of text requires mastery of something new. The keyboard is in German, too, and to make room for all the different letters with umlauts, and the fact that German hardly ever uses a “y,” things have been moved around. “Today is Monday” suddenly becomes “Todaz is Mondaz;” the apostrophe and colon turn into umlauted a’s and o’s. I spend minutes looking for a question mark or a slash. Not to mention the @ sign, which turns out to be on the Q but you have to use the “Alt Gr” key, whatever that is.
SO…tasks which used to be simple become time-eating missions on the starship Impossible. “Can anyone tell me how to insert a page break?” I say, and immediately a crowd gathers around my computer with people suggesting various combinations of left and right mouse clicks, pointing to German words in unfamiliar spots, and asking each other what that icon means. “What do you want to put a break in for anyway?” someone asks, and three other people recommend that I just find some other way to do it while everyone else wanders off muttering. Eventually someone who speaks German (but not computer) happens by and, after mulling it over for about ten seconds, says “try that one,” and of course it works. At home this would have taken all of 6 seconds for me to do; here, it’s taken about 6 of us 10 minutes which accounts for one human-hour of work time. Gads.
Needless to say, when a variety of things that look like error messages (“Achtung!) pop up as I’m trying to Abmelden, I generally click “ja” or “nein” or “OK” as quickly as possible in the hope that I can get away before the computer begins to smoke and I get blamed. So far my strategy has worked and nothing has broken for which I can be held responsible. I do most of my email and type these posts at home where I can happily sit in front of my own laptop, which listens to me when I tell it what to do.
Which brings me to the other problem, which is that my own computer apparently doesn’t speak German either. In this day and age internet use and email seem essential for communication, and we thought it would be fairly easy to link up somehow. When we arrived, our upstairs neighbor offered to help us get connected, and when after a couple of days we were still struggling, we took him up on his suggestion. He told us there was a wireless network in the building (in fact we could see a number of them, but all were security protected…darn) and he’d get us the password. Only this particular network wasn’t available. We searched. We tried again. We went up and got his key to the other guys apartment and went in while they weren’t there and sat next to the stupid wireless router with the computer and…nothing. Meanwhile his iPhone is happily talking to it. ???? Apparently our computer doesn’t speak enough German to communicate with the router. Do you suppose it gets frustrated, too?
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Einschulung
Einschulung always has a “Zuckertute.” I don’t think you know about it. A Zuckertute is like something where you get a lot of candy and things for school. You can choose whatever you want to be on your Zuckertute. Mine had Hot Wheels on it. It’s like a giant ice cream cone but it’s cardboard. Some have pictures of things or the name on it and they all have chocolate and candy and gummy bears inside.
I went to a theater and I stood on stage and got a sunflower on Einschulung Day. There were a lot of people there. Some people wear nice ironed jeans and a fancy shirt. Other people wear fancy clothes like fancy new pants, new shoes, dresses, fancy shirts… Afterward you go to school and meet your teachers and play for a while. You also get to read books and have cookies and juice for snack. The day before you meet your classmates. It’s really fun and afterwards you might be able to get some balloons. Then you go home and you’re able to open your Zuckertute and you eat the candy!
PS The boys don’t wear dresses. And that’s all!
I went to a theater and I stood on stage and got a sunflower on Einschulung Day. There were a lot of people there. Some people wear nice ironed jeans and a fancy shirt. Other people wear fancy clothes like fancy new pants, new shoes, dresses, fancy shirts… Afterward you go to school and meet your teachers and play for a while. You also get to read books and have cookies and juice for snack. The day before you meet your classmates. It’s really fun and afterwards you might be able to get some balloons. Then you go home and you’re able to open your Zuckertute and you eat the candy!
PS The boys don’t wear dresses. And that’s all!
Sunday, August 31, 2008
I just want to make sure that I keep adding things, even when I don't have much to say. We start school tomorrow and everyone's pretty keyed up. The kids are excited, especially the girls, who get to start for real. Malcolm doesn't get to begin until next week, after he has his Einschulung, which, for those who don't know, is a big German celebration for kids starting first grade. We'll be sure to write more after that happens.
Meanwhile, I'm struggling to learn how to use computers here (all commands and keyboards are in German, so I can't really tell what I'm doing...more on that later, too) but overall feeling pretty good about getting started finally.
We're just back from a weekend in Hamburg and Elmshorn (a big town in NW Germany, Schleswig-Holstein) which was lovely and we had great weather. Hamburg has a part that was the basis for the design of the Charles River basin, but overall it's really a BIG port city. We also saw a good museum about Hamburg's role as the port of exit for a huge number of emigres to the US and elsewhere.
Meanwhile, I'm struggling to learn how to use computers here (all commands and keyboards are in German, so I can't really tell what I'm doing...more on that later, too) but overall feeling pretty good about getting started finally.
We're just back from a weekend in Hamburg and Elmshorn (a big town in NW Germany, Schleswig-Holstein) which was lovely and we had great weather. Hamburg has a part that was the basis for the design of the Charles River basin, but overall it's really a BIG port city. We also saw a good museum about Hamburg's role as the port of exit for a huge number of emigres to the US and elsewhere.
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