day two: whew

Far less intense than the day before. Due to some meetings, shifting schedules, and I suspect intuition that I was feeling a bit shell shocked, I wasn't expected to come in today until 10:00. The extra two hours were exactly what I needed. After a slow start to the morning, I got to sit in on classes with the upper level students. Despite the fact that the schedule and format and culture are totally different, there is one thing that does not change across the continents: teenagers. All day I laughed at how similar the personalities are to the students that I've interacted with at home. Complaining about homework, cutting up under their breath, it doesn't change. In between classes I met with the various teachers that I'll be working with and began discussing plans to firm up my schedule in the coming weeks and the lessons that I'll be taking over. I also met the school principal today, a kind man who graduated from the University of Florida. It was a treat to speak with not only another American, but someone who knows the South. So far everyone I've met at Marnix has been crazy nice. Obviously I didn't expect them to be mean, but it's an amazing perk nonetheless. Everyone has encouraged me to not only learn about the school but to make sure that I travel and see all of Holland - coming from a pretty work centered culture (or maybe it's just been me intensely focused on work the past few years) I've been taken aback at their insistence for exploration outside of internship. 

Also, something a little odd, that I'm sure has come from speaking with people who have a myriad of accents the past two days. The voice in my head that I read with has developed a weird hybrid Dutch-British-American English accent. Three of the teachers I've spoken to frequently are British natives and most of the rest learned English from the Brits, so they have a British twang to their English (which is a really cool thing to listen to because some words come out in a Dutch accent and some words come out in an English accent). But being around all that with very little exposure to American English has totally warped the way that I've been reading things - if this is happening after 48 hours, who knows what it'll be like come April?! 

After I finished for the day there was still plenty of daylight so I walked around the block just to see what the neighborhood was like - lot's of small, Dutch-looking houses and one very friendly postman. Then I took the long way back to the bus station and waited for the 52 to arrive. In my efforts to see more of the neighborhood, I missed the earlier bus and had to wait around a half hour for the next one so I pulled out my copy of 1984 (T6t - their name for bilingual track seniors - are reading it). While I stood reading, an older woman approached me, also to wait for the bus. She pointed to the cover and spoke a string of Dutch that went completely over my head. "I'm sorry, I only speak English" I said, cursing myself for not trying harder at learning a few phrases earlier. In very broken English she translated, saying that she believed that 1984 had come true. I laughed and nodded in agreement and didn't have anything else to say... In my head this was an entertaining moment, but now that I write it I can't really find the punch line. Oh well. The Dutch are pretty friendly when they have an excuse to be. 

The bus finally arrived and I began the long journey back, passing all the little stone houses next to pastures of sheep and cow and horses. All things that shouldn't surprise me, I've lived in Auburn, Alabama for the last three and a half years for goodness sake, but do. Probably because Renkum/Ede doesn't feel like what I know to be the countryside. The houses are clumped so closely together that it feels like it's a big city. 

When I arrived home, I thawed out for a few minutes. Apparently Holland is having a "warm" winter. Could've fooled me on that one. Temperatures are expected to drop soon though. Thank goodness for thick socks. When the feeling came back to my extremities, I set out again to walk around the block, just to get my bearings a little bit. We're surrounded mostly by other houses, but there is what appears to be like a convenience store with a weird assortment of American and Mexican looking food advertised in the window. Mostly I just noticed the ads for burritos and pizza. The quality is probably a little questionable, but in a pinch I bet it'd be good enough. 

I haven't had much time to take photographs. I feel like a fool when I whip my phone out to document what is mundane to everyone else here. I'm expecting most photo opportunities will arise in my weekend outings. But here's a couple that I managed: 

My room - the photo doesn't do justice to how large the space is;
I thought the tulips waiting on my desk were an especially
Dutch touch from my host family

The windmill I pass everyday getting to Marnix,
They really are everywhere. 

Day One

Status report: I'm a little overwhelmed, but good.
Lots of new things thrown at me all at one time, but that's just the nature of the beast. I started this morning at the delightful before dawn hour of 6:30 so that I could catch the 7:12 bus into Ede. A very alert 45 minute bus ride later, I made my way out of the station and toward Marnix so that I could meet with my first cooperating teacher. She greeted me in the main hallway of the upper form building and began introducing me to all the faculty in sight. It was a whirlwind of names and faces and handshakes as she showed me the Janitor's office (or what we would call the main office) and the teacher's room for the upper school, then whisked across the street to be introduced to some more names and faces in the lower school. My cheeks were just starting to grow sore from the smiling and "nice to meet you's" as the first bell rang. I sat in on five classes, mostly students in grades 2 and 3 (the Dutch equivalent of 7th and 8th grade), one period of 6IB, all of which were the TTO (bilingual) students except for one period with regular 2. All of the teachers are very engaging and friendly, they've been happy to accommodate for my Auburn requirements which has been nice. We've just started scratching the surface of what I'll be doing, but from the sound of it they're prepared to let me take the reins pretty quickly. Also, they all speak impeccable English which is a miracle in itself because I sound like a fool when I try to imitate Dutch pronunciation.
I am also very fortunate because Marnix recently added an American teacher to the staff who teaches social studies. It was nice to hear a familiar accent, even though it's only been forty-eight hours. She's been especially great with warning me about the nuances of Dutch culture coming from an American perspective and helped me get my OV-chipkaart (like a Dutch oyster card) set up. I hate that this barely scratches the surface of what my day entailed, but my eyes are drooping and I can tell that my writing isn't terribly engaging I think it's best to sign off for tonight. I'll write in more detail later on.

Arrival

I lied a little bit about keeping the blog updated with pre-departure trip information. Whoops. I touched down in Amsterdam today at noon, about an hour before schedule (praise the Lord). The previous day, having awoken at six in the morning for an 11 pm flight, was spent packing and panicking and repacking and panicking and repacking until I had finally condensed my luggage to a manageable size. Mom convinced me to see a movie later in the afternoon to kill the sluggish hours until it was time to go to the airport. Finally, finally, at 7:30 (a mere 13+ hours of waiting later) time to leave for the airport. Quick drive through downtown and into the new international terminal. Security was a breeze - despite the agony of waiting all day, that is a major perk of flying red-eye. Aboard the airbus, right on time, I made my way down the aisles cursing my bulky backpack and scouting out the local talent in hopes of a normal seat mate. No such luck. He may have been a first time flier, or tweaking on crystal meth. Either way, homeboy spent all of pre-departure twitching around in his seat and having absurdly animated reactions to the text messages he received. Occasionally he would audibly suck on his gums, making a truly delightful smacking noise, perhaps to pull the last succulent meth crumbles (does meth crumble? I'm not really sure, probably should have done my research...) from between his teeth. His piece de resistance was the panic attack that occurred as the plane started to pull onto the tarmac. Frantically scratching and scrambling about his person, all I could hear was a slew of profanities whispered in an accent known only to those born and raised in the deep south. After watching the mounting distress for a minute, I asked if he was alright.
"Lost my sleepin' pills"
"Oh no," I replied and made a half effort to glance around our seat until his hand plunged under himself and with a look of sheer relief he pulled forth a packet of little blue pills.
"Want some sleepin' pills?" he offered as the plane reached a 45 degree angle.
Now, my mother always taught me never to take candy from strangers but she never said anything about "sleepin' pills" so I said "Heck yes, someone give me a whiskey to wash these bad boys down!"

Obviously, I'm joking. I politely declined and went back to my book as my new friend popped all four pills with the gusto of a fat kid who has spotted a box of Ho-Ho's.

The rest of the flight was fairly uneventful, save for a spot of turbulence about halfway through. It was actually the first time I have ever been scared for my life on an airplane. We might as well have been on a roller coaster for the way that wind whipped us around. But the pilot was able and Jesus on our side and we made it through just fine.

We arrived in Amsterdam to a bustling airport, filled with signs written in English, thank goodness. I breezed my way through customs, collected my bags, and called my host family to let them know that I would be on the 13:30 train to Ede. As the train took me farther from the busy streets of Amsterdam, the fields grew larger and greener, the farm animals more plentiful (including a whole field just covered in chickens, which I was disappointed to only get a glimpse of), and, of course, the windmills larger and larger. Save for the smallest of panic attacks when we reached Uricht (I wasn't sure if I was supposed to switch trains and couldn't read any of the instructional signs inside the train car so I decided not to move) the ride to Ede was smooth and uneventful. Upon my arrival to the train station, I was greeted by part of my host family - the father, Hans, the son, Lennart, and the daughter, Janne (pronounced 'Jenna'). After stowing my belongings in their car, they showed me Marnix College, the school where I will be teaching.

After navigating back to the train station, we drove to their home in Renkum. A beautiful little house with a garden out back. My room is at the rear of the house and is slightly disconnected from the rest of the living quarters but, one wall is covered entirely with windows where I can overlook the garden and the family's chicken coop. I've spent the afternoon unpacking, getting my act together for internship, and fighting jet lag. Tomorrow I will begin my internship with Marnix College and be introduced to all the teachers. It's exciting times all around!
 

Eastward Bound: Again!

This little fish is back!
Just detailing day-to-day student life got a little dry, hence my long hiatus. Plus I pretty well eat, sleep, and breathe school. While I'm sure you all are dying to know about my most recent discoveries into the world of Paradise Lost or know what the English Club is up to this month, well, I'm betting you don't.

My return to the bloggersphere is due to a most exciting letter I received about a month ago. This spring I will be boarding the plane once again. This time, destination: Ede, Netherlands.

Over the summer I applied to the Consortium of Overseas Teaching (COST) program, offered by Kent State (Auburn is a cooperating school through their program) and after many months of nail biting, I got a placement. Let me elaborate: as an English/Language Arts Education major (a major that will henceforth be referred to only as English Ed because typing out the real name is obnoxious), my last semester of school is a teaching internship where I will be in a classroom full time, observing and teaching. Essentially a real teacher, but with a safety net. I can't even tell you how I stumbled upon Auburn's affiliation with the  COST program, but last fall, I decided to go for it. After months of editing personal statements - for the record I almost never edit or revise anything so having seventeen drafts of a piece of writing was quite the new experience for me - I submitted my application. I was able to rank my top four countries that I wanted to be placed in - Ireland, Germany, Netherlands, or Greece. More of a horizontal ranking, I didn't care where I was going just as long as I was going. Then I just sat back and waited (which looked far more like anxious pacing and barely concealed crazy while explaining to people that I, in fact, did not know what I was doing the next semester, did not have a lease for spring, and would just figure it out when I got there).
Two other COST students got their placements before me, so needless to say, my crazy eyes were at full force by the end of September until:
Standing in line, waiting for my coffee with two fellow survivors of the previous semester's History of the English Language. Briefly checking my phone, I notice a new email in my inbox. Expecting one of the usual eighty million pieces of spam (dang it freshman Caitlin, you do not need to sign up at every email list on War Eagle Day!) I open my email.
Voice shrill and eyes about to pop out of my head: "Jordan, my letter, my letter." and after a few moments, every head turned as I jumped up and down, backpack still on, shrieking "I'm going to the Netherlands, I get to leave!!!" Sorry I'm not sorry, Starbucks.

There's the condensed version. In the meantime, research has been done, placement coordinator has been contacted, paperwork has been started. I'll be teaching at Marnix College, which is a bilingual school for 6th-12th grade, from January 14th through April 4th, and my coordinator is working on finding me a host family to stay with. People have been coming out of the woodwork with helpful tips and contacts for me in Amsterdam - something that has been much appreciated.
Others have offered...less... helpful advice. For instance, my coordinator warned me that I may want to kick my coffee habit because "The coffee is very different at Marnix". Which is probably a good idea regardless, given that without caffeine I am a monster and that really does not make for a great first impression. After sharing with peers that I am working on kicking the habit over Christmas break, no less than three people have suggested that I bring a kurieg with me in my suitcase.... helpful.
I shouldn't roll my eyes, honestly one day they'll probably get stuck. :)

I'm going to try to keep this blog updated with any news and eventually will turn it into my travel blog. For now it's just paperwork and tying up loose ends here at Auburn. T-minus two months until my biggest adventure yet, finishing up school work should be a breeze, right?

C.Sher

Did you know that Pandora has comedian channels? Because they do. Thanks to a friend with excellent taste in comedy I have recently discovered the joy of strolling to class while being entertained with endless jokes. My favorite part of this process is that I am horrible at stifling laughter. Horrible. So, if there is a particularly amusing joke, I bust out laughing at a joke no one else can hear. People of Auburn, do not be alarmed at the girl laughing to herself standing at the crosswalk.

How many weeks has it been since I last wrote? Two? Three? Yikes. Let's play catch up.

I. Chicago
A most excellent adventure. Visited with the good people of DePaul University to chat grad school. (I'm not totally sure about if I want to go to grad school or not. We'll see how that goes) Saw Charlie Brown and some hatching baby chicks at the Museum of Science and Industry, visited Pawnee at the Field Museum of Natural History, and popped into Russian Tea Time for a spot of afternoon tea.
But before you get away with thinking that I am so scholarly for going to all these high class venues, there was also a very intense crash course in trash television, instructed by my cousin/weekend host, Dan. Good times all around.

II. Sherlock Holmes Reading Event
After three weeks of tearing my hair out, the English Club's reading event finally came and went. Nobody died (namely, I didn't die) so I'd call it a success.

III. Altar Your Life
This past weekend was a weekend retreat put on by my home church. I went back and was a group leader for the 11th grade girls. I've had many of these nuggets in bible studies and whatnot since they were in the eighth grade. Needless to say, lot of love but no respect. We had a grand time though catching up and hanging out with Jesus.

So there's the past few weeks in a nutshell. I'm hoping to have more writing samples to put up soon, those are more fun to do than life recaps. Fingers crossed that we'll have a good prompt in class sometime soon!

peace and blessins

C.

Has anyone noticed that I've been a little sparse on adventure stories? Because I've noticed. Whomp whomp. Never fear though, I'm headed to the Windy City this weekend for grad school visits and tourist shenanigans. In the meantime I've decided to supply you with some other bits and pieces from this old noodle.
So, I'm in this class. "Curriculum and Teaching I". I'm not really sure what goes on in this class except that the teacher just kind of meanders through our reading assignments with an unclear mental thread. Needless to say I have some flippin' sweet doodles in my notebook thus far. But, before my professor begins her hour and a half "lecture" (if you can even call it that) we do an hour of free writing. Scoreee. It's supposed to help us learn to write like teachers of writing. But I'm just going to take what I can get and be glad to have some structured time for putting words to paper; writing is my favorite.
Anyhoo, this week we read the poem "Power" about some kids who plant a dummy on some train tracks to try and get the train to stop. Long story short, the train runs over the dummy, train driver freaks out (thinking that he had just hit a kid) and everybody loses. From this we are instructed to: "write a poem that is a remembered scene when things didn't turn out as expected and the voice of the poem is one of someone who wasn't ready for what happened."
First we hear about the death of one girl's grandfather, then the loss of innocence of a girl exposed to a PCB spring break far too young, and then I whip out this number. Enjoy.

Snap. Crackle. Pop. 

Snap. Crackle. Pop. 

White foam crests over the top of my bubbling Rice Krispies. 

Ears gobble up the soft chatter as the mouth waters with anticipation 

of the sweet crunch and sugary milk. 

"Darling, come here just a minute" interrupts my cereal's song.

Eyes steal a wistful glance at my bowl. 

Food isn't allowed in the living room, 

not since the red stain on the white carpet. 

Whoops. 

I scamper into the next room. 

Charlie Brown's teacher tells me something important 

"Wah wah wah wah wah wah wah wah" 

Her voice drones on as I think of the crisp, crunchy delight 

waiting for me in the next room. 

How I long to hear the chorus whisper, 

"Snap. Crackle. Pop." into my hungry ear.

"Alright then?" broke my reverie. 

"Yes, yes, alright. Am I excused?" 

"Go on." 

The words have barely escaped her lips before I am back in the kitchen.

Leaning close, I crane my ear. 

The bowl is silent. 

Scooping a large spoonful toward my mouth 

the anticipation of that airy, crunch filling my my stomach with delight 

almost too much to contain. 

Splat. 

Soggy, mush falls flat on my tongue. 

Tears leap to my eyes. 

No snap. No crackle. No pop. 

Someday my teachers are going to stop calling me "clever" and start calling me "smart a$$", but hopefully not any time soon.

 

You'll have to forgive me, I'm about to have a Carrie Bradshaw moment here. (yes, that does in fact mean that I will be narrating this post in my head with a lofty, retrospective voice) 

It's twenty-thirteen. Weren't we supposed to have flying cars by now?

New Years carries such an exotic connotation. One mention of New Years Eve conjures fabulous sparkling dresses, champagne poured until you drink yourself silly, kissing a loved one, kissing a stranger, and at the stroke of midnight: the new year. Everything becomes new. 

At least, that's what I imagine what happens to people on the night of New Years Eve. Most years I spend mine on the couch with a few single friends, joking about the mishaps and misadventures of the past year, promising ourselves that next year will be better. Not a bad way to spend an evening, but when that clock hits twelve there's always a few minutes of celebration and then - "now what?"Most of the time the answer to that question is, "sweatpants and bed" (it's a wild and crazy life I lead here). 

This year, I spent New Years Eve feeding some goats, eating queso, watching What to Expect When You're Expecting, and laughing at all the people freezing their tushes off in Underground Atlanta waiting for the peach to drop. It wasn't wild, and it wasn't exotic but it was a grand old time nonetheless. 

Happy new year, my friends. Here's to having flying cars by the next!