Momentary states of madness

Today was another happy day under my sky. The main culprit in the singing occurred in the class I was telling you about yesterday, came after me on the hallway and apologized for his deed and blamed his action on a "momentary state of madness". Later on we had the class together and he asked me nicely if he could answer at the lesson. After grading others, he asked if he could hope at a five today five his answers, as to balance a bit the 2 taken yesterday. And that concluded the problems between us.
Talking about "momentary states of madness" reminded me of a feeling I had today. A friend I went out, began explaining to me why she didn't join me to a recent party. She mentioned a jealousy fit she threw her husband that night because of a Facebook page she discovered on his laptop. She told me the whole story of her creative mind working up an entire love story between that woman on the Facebook page and her husband. Now, thinking in retrospective she knew perfectly well that she didn't have a real reason to imagine all that, that she should have thought at a reasonable explanation for that page because her husband had been the most faithful partner for the last eight years. Hearing her telling me the whole story, reminded me of similar moments I had. I know that generally I and most of women behave like reasonable beings but one in a while we seem to lose our minds. I think it's a flaw in our making. I remember once I dumped my boyfriend, who cared a lot for me and was a perfect partner, because I didn't like how we looked together and imagined people were looking strangely at us.When we happen to cross paths, I still see in his eyes that he considers me a bit mad.

The " decency" of a teacher

Today I replaced a colleague who had an inspection. Not having classes with those students, I didn't have anything to do with them than talk. At a certain point, one of the boys began telling me that I don't look like a teacher. Intrigued, I asked him to explain himself. He said that I don't look decent enough. You can't imagine my feelings and immediately I looked at my clothes asking myself, why I am not decent. Not seeing anything than a pair of high-heeled shoes, jeans and a leather jacket over a pink shirt, I was wondering what was wrong...why I wasn't decent. As to get a clue about what he considered decent, I asked him to tell me what he considers decent. He said that decent means " beautifully". I asked him why he doesn't consider my clothes beautiful, explaining that he should really look in a dictionary for the explanation of the word "decent". I pointed to the fact that he should use words he doesn't know the meaning of with care, or else he can be offensive towards others. I explained to him a bit what this means as not to make the same mistake with others and then asked him for details about the clothes he expected a teacher to wear. He started telling me that I should wear a suit with a nice shirt. I showed him my shirt and told him I was wearing one. A...But no, the colour was not right. It was pink, while it should have been white and with a blazer. Wow, it sounded like an uniform. I told him to try that when he'll become a teacher- he'll see that after two weeks he'll finish wearing his wardrobe.
I found this situation very weird, not only because it was the second day since the beginning of school when I was wearing jeans (usually wearing skirts or classical pants), but more because of the person demanding me this "decent" attire. He was wearing pair of  jeans intentionally torn in various parts and worn with the waist line lowered at half of his buttocks (the view of the dark blue boxer shorts being a plus) and a T-shirt with a barely-hidden sexual innuendo in English.
Oh, how great it is to be a teacher when we have these perfect students to teach us how to dress...That brings to my mind a  email message sent by one of our colleagues who was pointing out exactly to our ingrate position we are in now. The students have only right ( they have the right to do anything and say anything, even swear us, without any consequences which would scare them the least) while we are told we have only obligations. We must be the perfect teachers, being blamed for everything. We are the ones sanctioned when a student throws a fit in the middle of class, without a particular reason, we are to blame when they are too lazy to wake us and come to school, we are to blame when they get bored and start listening to manele on their very expensive cells, etc. They are allowed to raise their voices at us, slam the door behind them when leaving the class feeling offended by a bad grade received: are allowed to have as many examinations as they want during the summer holidays as to pass the class they have not studied for an entire year... And many others. No wonder they don't respect us. They told me several times that they wouldn't do my job for my "shitty" pay check and dealing with all the " nuts". A lot of them come to school because they get bored at home and they consider classes an entertainment. All of us  has had that type of student that purposely tries to find out which buttons he/ she must push as to get you  to lose your temper only as to have something amusing to laugh at. It's like you are a circus monkey, present there for their entertainment. I find myself congratulating myself  for my stoical smile while letting them do their number and promisig myself the delayed revenge at the end of the class when I will be rid of them (of course if I won't have the happiness of finding them in a another desk while repeating the year).
Talking about great theatrical numbers in class. Today a part of students, in an all boys graduating class, started humming and then singing to me and their classmates the lyrics of a manele song they were listening on their headphones. As usual, trying not to get mad and offer them a reason to amuse themselves on my behalf, I reminded them of the school policy which forbids them to use cells in school (with the clear threat of expelling them, which they are perfectly aware that nobody will enforce). They very innocently pulled out their headphones while asking me if I don't like that song. Grinning I reminded them that they have something else to do during class and that I was just teaching something. Patiently I continued my teaching to be again interrupted by one of them who started singing the tune as he remembered, with a funny twist. Having the whole class bursting into laughter, I couldn't take it any more. I turned towards the catalogue and asked the very funny comedians to tell me something them the lesson I was teaching. Of course, they had no idea about it. They had writtten everything, knowing that I was checking their notebooks and grading them for not doing at least that. Finally, the 2 mark  convinced them them and the class that in spite of my big smile and kind tone I was deadly serious. I think I behaved like a saint in front of these twenty years old bullies, known throughout the school for their physical  and behavoural "muscles". I remember last year when I had my first classes with them, they tried everything to push my buttons and I did the same until I hit the right ones which make them hurt and fall back. Now, it's easier and other collegues come to me asking what methods I use to make them be so silent and orderly in my classes while theirs are the worst. My best advice is to be patient, find the clowns of the class and their weak points and attack them. If you conquer the leaders, the class will be yours. They must have something you can work with. Some of them respond well if you take them as allies and involve them in teaching or establishing the order in class. Some respond to bad grading or the contrary encouraging grading. For some you have to appeal to their raising - pointing out that they don't want to offend a nice lady like me. With some you have to talk with their parents, because they are the only ones they listed to (more often because they enforce discipline the hard way, which you can't do). And so on... Psychology and a lot of patience will help you overcome all obstacles and maybe you'll make it in this very "rewarding" job. To do this you need to define very clearly why you are doing this and hold on to that, or else you are in danger of losing your mind, which happens more often than you think.
After many years of teaching, I definitely know why I'm do this- I like it. I am a bit sado-masochistic. I tried other things and I got bored, I missed the challenge and the thrill of a new day when anything can happen from a bloody fight, a pregnant girl's faint to a funeral masquerade. I am usually the most happy person, smiling at their unruly behaviour an then bursting into laughter a their surprised faces while punishing them with the lowest grade possible for not paying attention. Unfortunately most classes know me already well enough and now are too obedient. Some days I feel like torturing them and they don't give me any reason. it happened to me to raise my voice a bit towards a chatting student and to have another tell me that he knows that I am not really mad. So if you are a bit sado-masochist you should try this position. It can give you the thrills you need (not in the sexual manner, of course) in the psychological sense.

Memory

One of my neighbours has died recently. An acquaintance of mine asked me today about him and I recollected all I knew about him. I knew Mr. Little Feather (this is the actual translation of his name- yeah, I know it is very picturesque...)only from our encounters on the apartment block stairs. He and his wife moved only a few years ago here at the suggestion of their daughter who lives nearby. He was the only one doing errands for them, so we used to meet often. He was always wearing a suit and an old-fashioned hat so his silhouette was easily recognizable in the distance. His slightly leaned back didn't diminish the elegant posture of his body. He seemed to have a special smile and tone for everybody. His attention directed in equal measure towards the teenagers playing around the building and the busy adults passing him by. Seeing him, you had to stop to talk for a bit even if you were in a hurry.  He had that calm, wise demeanor of people who know too much about about life and consider it a pleasure that has to be relished in a certain pace.
What I liked most about him was that he was a character who seemed to represent all I knew and imagined about the generation who lived between the two world wars in Romania. And he was exactly that! He was a man raised in that "decadent" era inspired by the French culture. He was an educated well-read man, well over what we call educated nowadays, who knew how to speak with everybody without making you feel different. I say this because I know too many people who think that they are too educated to lower themselves to talk normally with less educated ones or the ones they consider inferior as social status.
He married a much younger woman, but a very beautiful and elegant one. And he respected her too much to ask her to work. He considered her too delicate even for house chores, so he did everything...even in his last days when he wasn't feeling well. They were married for more than 70 years. Imagine...to be married to someone so long. They must have known each other each breath, better than themselves. And they had so much respect for each other. This must be the secret for their successful life together. I remember I saw the same think, the same kind of relationship between my grandparents. They used to address each other with Mr... and Mrs.... and always wait for the other when they had to decide something.
This reminds me of  my grand- grand father. He was a fairy-tale character in my childhood. I used to jump around when I heard that we were visiting him. I, and everybody in the family, no matter the age, enjoyed enormously his war stories. Even when he told us the same story, he told it in a different way which made you discover other details in the places and characters he recollected. Even now, when I watch a war documentary, I fill the gaps with all his characters and events. He was a soldier in both World Wars and fought side by side the Germans and Russians. He put the foundations for my the stereotypes I have about these people. At the end he was taken prisoner and taken to Siberia, from where he returned, on foot of course, to his village safe and sound to raise three children and many grandchildren.
I know I jumped from one man to another, but for me they all represent the same thing- an era when people learned to respect life and each other, in a hard way. I am glad that we don't have to go through those hardships, but I realise also that my generation takes life too easier, too superficial and I know we are missing something. I think people feel the void somehow bu they don't know what is missing from their lives. I would like people to feel how valuable their life is and that they have to make it worth living by doing important, significant things without being in life or death situations. I know that sufferance wakes some of them up, but there are not enough and many of them don't understand the lesson. I hope no conflagration will be needed to make this world's population feel alive again. I say this because I see a kind of restlessness, itch that exists in people. It seems that while the generations fed up with war faded away, as it happened with my grand-grandfather, grandparents and neighbour, the newer generations tend to "forget" of reinterpret what happened at the last conflagrations and think with greater ease at a war as a way in which they can leave their mark on the world. People have such a short memory...We are too stubborn and proud to let history, the past generations teach us something about ourselves, our nature.

A meeting with parents

Today I had a meeting with some parents of my students. The theme of the reunion was the problems they are challenged with in educating their children. I had chosen some clips with problematic kids to give them a starter of discussion. But I was positively surprised to see them start the discussion without any help. This is the second time I manage such a discussion group and they seem to become more and more relaxed at these reunions. Almost every parent present got involved and debated offering various ideas and sharing experiences. They really liked hearing our point of view, mine and my colleagues, and debating what happens with teenagers nowadays and what we can do to keep them safe and disciplined. I liked it when at the end some of them were still talking to us, some haw reluctant to leave. It was a great atmosphere and we really felt that everyone of us learnt something new from the others. Three hours passed without noticing. One of the mums also noticed and told me that she thought the meeting went great and she said that she enjoyed it.
Leaving with a colleague, she talked about stopping in town to drink a hot chocolate. This mum being with us, I invited her too, if she wasn't busy. We ended up going to a pastry shop where we stayed and talked for another two hours. It was a lot of fun. Walking back, this mum and the colleague I was with  kept thanking me for including them in the parent reunion and that sweet getaway. They seemed so happy...I don't think I did something extraordinary but they were delighted. I was thinking that some people need so little to be happy. They both have children and worries and don't get very often the chance to forget everything and get out with friends and forget about everything at a "cup of talking".
All in all, it was another " beautiful" day in my life when I felt perfectly happy to be surrounded by wonderfully open people. I liked to see these parents sharing their dissatisfaction and opinions and at the same time my smiles when I was joking about some deeds of my students.The problems are serious but I didn't want the discussion to become a prescriptive one in which someone teaches someone else what to do with his child. Everyone is smart enough to think about their own problems and learn from the others. One of the fathers was very cute- he wrote down every idea and took the sheet of paper with him. He said that he has to learn and apply them.
When I invited them to the next meetings, I had the surprise to heat that they want more. I say that I am surprised, because very often it is difficult to manage to determine parents to come to school. I think the last discussion was so interesting that they decided they enjoy these reunions. Thus we had today  a greater number than expected. All for the best. I only wish more parents with problematic children come to us. Maybe they will hear how these discussion work, and that we don't point fingers and they will open this communication channel.
 On another note, I feel a certain appeal that I have for people. I like when people feel my warmth and open up. I think for people it's easier to open up to me. This is a thing I discovered about me lately, comparing the reaction of other people towards me and my colleagues. I am not the coordinator of this program for parents, but a colleague is. She is a very kind, elegant person with whom it is always a pleasure to talk. But at parents meetings, it is easier for me to open a discussion and incite people to open up and talk. Maybe because of my younger age, my friendly jokes and smiles. And I think she was aware of this before me and that's why she asks me to elicit and entertain the talks.
 Of course, I am ware that I am a very talkative person ( as you can see from all this writing...) and permanently try to monitor myself as to talk in a reasonable ratio. I don't want to monopolize the discussion. I tried this today too but I don't know in what measure I managed because I saw that when someone else from the group was talking they were looking periodically at me. I will ask one of my colleagues tomorrow, if I talked too much. I hope not!
 A, and today I saw two very beautifully colored woodpeckers in front of the school. I am still surprised to see them coming so close to us. You didn't used to see this in the last years. A moment when I was sorry I didn't have my camera with me today was when visiting an elderly relative I saw a shinny black rooster pouring his soul out in a impetuous song on a brand new red gate. It was a fairy -tale image with the proud,  hell-black strained rooster filling the air with sound perched on a red gate matching perfectly the red on his head.

Loved it!

http://fotonicu.wordpress.com/2012/10/10/giselle-opera-nationala-romana-cluj-napoca/

Slovakia

Last week I was fortunate enough to go on a trip to Slovakia. I say "fortunate" because I loved it. Besides the warmth of the people, the beauty of the women and the delicious food in pantagruelic portions, I had the chance also to visit some beautiful places. One of them was the 14th century Castle of Stará Ľubovňa (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Star%C3%A1_%C4%BDubov%C5%88a )

 The castle is very well preserved and accessible for tourists. It has so many rooms and exhibits there that a few hours proved insufficient to see everything. Also the view from the tower was magnificent. You could see for many kilometres around.

A surprise was the rafting in Červený Kláštor, down a river separating Slovakia from Poland. It was clearly out of season for this, but the raft ride was even more special like this. We had the privilege of admiring the colourful autumn mountainous landscape at sunset and of listening to a lot of local legends about those places from one of the boatmen (I don't know how come, most of the stories were a bit misogynist...). The ride ended in the night under a gorgeous moon with some wolf stories. The unplanned walk in the dark towards the point where there was a car waiting for us, was the cherry on top. It was unique.

The High Tatras were another great experience. You didn't know where to look...there was a gorgeous scenery everywhere.

The visit to the Count Andrassy's summer mansion, brushed my history and showed me a style of life in which everything was unique and priceless. It reminded me of some memorable historical characters related to the location, like the Empress Sissy of Austria-Hungary and their influence on Romanian history. I realised that Romanians had in common with Slovakians the fact that both of them had been under Hungarian rule at the same time. That explained to me the similarities I had seen in towns- both had received an infusion of  German population and  implicitly style from the Austria- Hungarian Empire.

I saw the same similarities in Kosice. I found it very similar to Brasov and I felt like home. I enjoyed a guided walk around the center with a very nice lady who, I found out, shared my contempt for Francis II Rákóczi buried in St. Elisabeth's Cathedral. The city was under renovation preparing to be one of the European cultural capitals of next year.
 All in all, I found Slovakia to be like a 2.0 version of Romania - with more forests, bigger plates and fairer ladies.