"An English Teacher," from Bye Bye Dignity

I used to think I would make a pretty good teacher.

Germany has discharged me of such delusions.

A few days ago, I visited a German Gymnasium¹ to speak with a couple of upper-level English classes. I was invited on behalf of the American Consulate, which recruits young ex-pats living in the region for precisely this purpose. Two teachers at a Gymnasium outside of Bonn invited me to lead discussions with their students. The faculty at the school were all warm and welcoming, and their hospitality was greatly appreciated. Likewise, my first class greeted me with courtesy and enthusiasm. My second class flayed me by inches, but we'll come to that in good time.

Had my visit been solely for the purpose of mingling with faculty, it would have been a perfect day. They don't get many Americans at high schools in Bonn, let alone New Yorkers/Californians², and the English teachers loved the chance to converse with a native speaker. Most of the faculty's English was spot-on, with only the occasional lapses such as pronouncing obscure words like "escapism" as ESS-cəp-izm.³ Perhaps most pleasantly surprising was my encounter with the school principal. She gave me a bottle of Mumm extra-dry champagne as a token of hospitality. In the classooms, I carried it in my attaché to avoid looking unprofessional. Had I known how the second class would go, I would have carried it in my liver.

The first class was warm and enthusiastic. Upon my entry into their classroom, they all stood and greeted me in unison: "Good morning, Mr. Gallagher." It sounded like nothing so much as the way we used to say hello to the principal at my elementary school as a child. My reaction, therefore, was a mixture of flattery, confusion and horror. Fortunately, the experience was uphill from there. Our discussion principally revolved around American school life. The kids were engaged and curious, and they worked hard to speak solely in English, especially their questions. Oh Lord, their questions. I give you my favorites, chosen because 1) they sparked the most discussion amongst classmates, and 2) I think these questions induced the most learning.

--"Why are there metal detectors in American schools?"

This led to a great discussion about what kind of environments German schools offer, and how they are different from American schools.

--"Does every American boy play (American) football?"

I made it clear to the young gentleman asking this question that not every American male had my obvious athletic prowess.

--"Do American teenagers smoke?"

Less than you do, which is why they all have perfect teeth in the movies.

--"Do American teenagers have house parties, as depicted in the movies?"

Okay, I don't think I was using the word "depiction" in 10th grade, and English is my first language.

And my favorite:

--"Do all Americans wear their belts inside-out?"

Erm... no. Just me... and just today.

It was a memorable experience. And as you can see, their teacher took photos.



The second class was not so successful, though that is at least partially my fault. I had overreaching expectations for our time together. Our topic was the American Dream, and since I was speaking with a senior-level group, I had hoped for a somewhat theoretical discussion about modern capitalist life.⁴ As it turned out, I spent almost the full hour pulling teeth, cajoling the kids' jaws open long enough to admit they even had dreams at all. With that accomplished, I managed to move the discussion towards the role of society in the pursuit of our dreams, but only for a tragically brief period.

As class concluded, I thought I would be ending my day at its nadir. But afterwards, two students approached me. They said they had loved my talk. They wanted to know about my exchange program, and what other opportunities they might have for study abroad. I offered to send their teacher more information, and they were obviously elated.

I have a few friends who are teachers. I often feel shock when I realize I have peers my age who teach. Now, I am equally amazed at the task they take on every day. It is one thing to educate the engaged. It's another to reach students, to get them excited about learning and improving themselves. It's not my strength, inspiring teenagers. The experience is quite a rush, though.

Not as much of a rush as that champagne, but close.

--------

¹Not, as you probably first thought, some sort of fitness facility, but rather the German term for a general-education high school. These schools used to be places where youth was forged into brave German industry in the fires of adversity. Thank God that's over. These young people no longer endure an opressive hierarchy... at least, no more so than at any other high school.

²Through trial and error, I've learned that if I'm struggling to engage Germans in conversation, I need only fall back on my own story: where I'm from or where I went to school. New York and Los Angeles are mythic for some Europeans, and the farther from a major city you go, the more entranced the locals become. By the time I'm in farmland, I get questions like "So, is Tom Hanks tall in real life?"

³I've been hearing this slip a lot lately. Since Americans are such expert escapists, perhaps Europeans think of American escapism as some sort of political theory. That might explain the misplaced emphasis, e.g. COMmunism, SOCialism, EScapism.

⁴If pedantry determined one's salary, I'd be a billionaire by now.

Deutsche Dankopfern

I've done a fair amount of good-natured griping on this blog. Today, in the spirit of Thanksgiving, I share a few of the things for which I am thankful:

1. Thanksgiving in Germany -- While the holiday is obviously not celebrated here, InWEnt, my sponsor organization, was good enough to put together a feast for us heimweh Americans. Last Monday, many of the PPPler's living in my province gathered at a brewery in Duisburg for a massive meal. It's truly the most I've eaten in one sitting since I arrived here, and it was completely worth the gastronomically induced nightmares.¹

2. Did I Mention It Was in a Brewery? -- Self-explanatory.

3. Malleable Accents -- According to one guest at Monday's feast, I have adopted a convincing Kölsch accent. Germans tend to spot American visitors through linguistic giveaways² such as strong R's and certain word-choice oddities. Since I've managed to jettison most of these habits while unintentionally adopting Kölsch pronunciation, the Duisburgers thought I could almost pass as a local. I thought this curious since Germans used to tell me I spoke with an Austrian accent. Maybe I should try to pick up Plattdeutsch and really start screwing with people's heads.

4. Bored Seminar Groups -- One of my more interesting classes at the Cologne Academy of Music has been a graduate seminar, whose title translates as "Qualitative Research Methods: The Interview." Though the class is intended primarily for grad students working towards a Diplom,³ I decided to sign up since the central research focus is contemporary arts institutions. As it turns out, the class is experiencing a dearth of available experts for interviews, so next week a panel of students will be researching... me. It's about time, too. It's been weeks since my last round of "Embarrass the American." I was beginning to feel neglected.

5. My Family and Friends -- My fondest wishes to you all. Happy Thanksgiving.

--------

¹I blame the "cranberry paste."

²After first checking for cowboy boots, white high-tops, or an aggressive foreign policy.

³A German degree acquired before the doctorate but after the Vordiplom. In case you were wondering, Vordiplom is German for "You poor bastard, you have sooo many years of school left."

Because It Is My Name

As I have said here before, I am not an official student at the Cologne Academy of Music. I am enrolled at the Center for International Arts Management, which is an institute for graduate study only. Since they do not permit students to register fully for only one semester -- and since I probably will not be taking final exams anyway -- I was forced to register as a Gasthörer, literally someone who has formal permission to visit the classroom. It might give some sense of scale if I use a completely unrelated analogy. The Gasthörer is to the German university classroom as an unnamed ensign is to the USS Enterprise. No one knows his name. No one cares to know his name. He has nothing to say, and the most valuable contribution he can make is to die on an away mission to highlight the seriousness of the situation.¹

My status as a Gasthörer has made a number of situations, ranging from administrative to social, somewhat awkward. New acquaintances never react well upon learning my registration status. Sometimes they suddenly seem uncomfortable in my presence, while others have actually made piteous "aww" noises. I have discovered the best reaction I can hope for in these exchanges is shock, as in, "I am shocked to hear that you are one of them."

Such was my experience while speaking to a student yesterday. Ralf, a local installation artist who is pursuing a master's at CIAM, met the news that I was a Gasthörer with a flattering degree of indignation. As many artists are wont to do, Ralf immediately sought to remedy this grave injustice. He assembled a number of other CIAM students whom I had not met, introduced me, then explained my plight² to the group.

They unanimously agreed that the term suited me poorly. Instead, my status would be better referred to as a stipendiatender Austauschstudent, or a "fellowship-holding exchange student." Despite the mild horror I always experience when hearing Germans concoct such serpentine phrases, I was intrigued. The group explained that, in general, German sentiment towards American exchange students is tolerant at best. The average American student in German classrooms is there for a semester abroad, often with little or no grasp of the language. Conversely, my little ad hoc counsel told me that American students who speak German are usually met as a pleasant surprise, particularly if they are intelligent enough to be in Germany on a scholarship.³ They were quick to add that this change of title was also not a deceit. Rather, the real fault lay with the administration for diluting my status.

My confidence bolstered by this conversation, I decided to try out my new title. After class, I headed to the little coffee bistro on the ground floor, and introduced myself to the first friendly face I saw. Upon hearing that I was not a lowly Gasthörer but a mighty stipendiatender Austauschstudent, the girl's eyes widened, and a shriek of glee escaped from her lips. She called her friends over, and they immediately began clamoring to introduce themselves, ask me questions, or just to touch the hem of my coat, even for an instant. The crowd around me quickly grew until I was forced to hastily retreat, lest I be arrested for causing a fire hazard.

...Or not. Though actually, I have discovered I am met with more warmth and curiosity than I was before. German culture makes a big to-do of titles and certificates, especially with regard to education, so I probably should have been less surprised. In any case, it feels good to have risen a little through the ranks. I also have a freshly minted and equally unrelated analogy for my new status: The stipendiatender Austauschstudent is to the German university as the comely alien woman is to the USS Enterprise. This character is only here for a short while, and her allure results from her exotic background and accompanying entertainment value. Kirk will probably sleep with her, but at least she's not getting eaten by a space lizard.

I can live with that.

--------

¹The German word for away mission is "Seminar."

²Ralf's word choice, not mine. Technically, he called my situation a Bedrängnis, which could also be translated as "affliction," but I thought that made for too weepy a translation. I am beleaguered by paper pushers, not tuberculosis.

³I decided to be discrete about CBYX's dubious status as a "scholarship," as they were all being so nice.