Learning by teaching

Full of mixed feelings, I packed my bags in Berlin two weeks ago and traded my skyscraper sunsets for castle sunrises. Literally.

My journalist life involved late nights, city lights and a full schedule of cultural events. My teacher existence means early morning alarms, coffee-fueled lessons and afternoons of grading, prepping and gazing at the hilltop castle out my window.

But I was leery of returning to the quiet provincial life. Something about the fast-paced city seems to suit me well, and the days of interviews and writing excited me more than standing in front of a chalkboard.

Nonetheless, the transition back to the Harz has gone well so far. It’s helped that I’ve done this before, that I knew what to expect. Being familiar with the curriculum allows me to develop creative ideas before it’s too late and, hopefully, make learning a little more fun.

Of course, that’s not always the case. Even in the first two weeks, there have already been distinct ups and downs.

A successful lesson:

The delicious spread, waiting to be
devoured by hungry students.

The first unit in the 8^th grader’s books (which focus the entire year on the USA) is about New York. My first day back in the 8m1, the students read an excerpt about New York delis and bagels. Deciding on a hands-on approach, I asked the class teacher if we could stage a bagel breakfast – as a surprise – for the students.

Enthusiastically, he agreed to my plan and provided financial backing for the breakfast treats. I made arrangements with the self-serve bakery, pre-ordering 26 bagels for a 7 a.m. pickup, bought cream cheese and spent an evening designing the deli menu board.

The day of the deli extravaganza, I pulled myself out of bed at 5:45 a.m. – undoubtedly the hardest part of the endeavor – biked to the bakery where I picked up the bagels, and, after a few minutes of confusion during which I carted my bags of supplies between the two buildings trying to figure out which classroom we were in, I found the correct room, shooed the students into the hallway and set up shop.

The makeshift deli, ala German grammar school style. On the sign "Bagels: Breakfast the American way!"

Granted, everything was a bit provisional. Once the other teacher arrived, we experimented with locations for hanging the sign, finally securing my poster board with magnets to the dusty green chalkboard. The white table was a little small, dwarfed by the surrounding classroom, and the offerings seemed meager to my super-sized ideas.

But excitement and imagination are beautiful components of language learning, and the bagels seemed to bring out both elements in the students, even at 7:30 a.m. All of the students present participated, ordering in English and eagerly munching their American breakfast. They also accurately discussed the differences between my American customer service persona and the German standard.

Assuredly there will be weeks when the monotony of vocabulary quizzes and grammar review will quench the novelty of having a “native speaker” in class, but I hope that simple surprises, such as bagels for breakfast, will add highlights to English lessons.

Clearly, this is the best use for bagels. My students can definitely make me laugh.

A (not so) successful lesson:

While I am inherently qualified to add insight and ideas into the 8^th grade curriculum by virtue of my American citizenship, I have to work a little harder to relate to the 7^th grade’s yearly topic – namely, the United Kingdom.

Their first topic this school year is London. Unfortunately, the one quick day I spent touring the grand old city last summer hardly grants me expert status. And my relationship to British English is rocky at best – the extra “u’s” and single “l’s” often threatened my credibility at the newspaper in Berlin.

Tourist only.

Nonetheless, I pride myself on the excellent research skills I gained from my bachelor degree and subsequent journalistic experience. Thus, I was delighted to discover a fabulous feature in Britain’s The Telegraph, which seemed perfectly suited to a roomful of youngsters learning about England’s capital: London in your lunch break.

I’d chanced by the column one afternoon during my internship at The Local, while perusing the internet for interesting stories, and had thought it would make an excellent teaching tool. The teacher was on board with my idea, so I copied the text, carefully citing the publication and author, and then pared it down to a more manageable size.

Geared up for the classroom debut, I handed out my carefully prepared copies and asked a student to start reading out loud. However, instead of the enthusiasm and engagement I expected, the students seemed to find interest in everything but the text. Getting them to concentrate was like pulling teeth, and no matter how many pupils I caught off guard with the popcorn style reading, each one still stumbled to find his or her place.

We didn’t get through all of the new vocabulary on the sheet before I abandoned my plan and moved on. I was frustrated with their disrespect and poor following skills, and then the other teacher told me the text had probably been too difficult. I replied it wouldn’t have been so difficult if the students had simply paid attention, but she told me they didn’t pay attention well when they couldn’t understand.

Aha.

My indignation instantly subsided, like the foam on a pot of boiling water rapidly receding after the lid is removed, as I considered her comment. She wasn’t mad, of course. I’d given her the text beforehand, and she’d also thought it to be suitable. I was just disappointed my preparation hadn’t translated into the same results as the bagels.

Although I’d be all for it, eating authentic food every lesson would quickly have negative effects on wallets and waistlines. Somehow the language has to speak for itself.

I’ve been doing this teaching thing for a year, but I’m no expert yet. Ten months under my belt have lent me a little confidence, but I have to deal with setbacks, too, and realize lessons don’t always pan out the way I visualize.

Thankfully, there is always another chance.

The London Eye. Taken June 2011.

Trading Places, The Germany Edition

I apologize that the blog has been slow recently. The biggest reason (excuse) is that I've moved from my little town in the Harz to the capital of Germany. In slightly more picturesque detail, that looks like this:

trading this well-known landmark

The Brocken, Schierke

for this one

T.V. Tower, Berlin

The move has also encompassed quite a few more changes--the pictures above simply exemplify the matter. If you're unfamiliar with Germany's make-up, though, here are some of the ramifications.

• Berlin enjoys the title of "greenest" city in Germany. Nonetheless, for the last 11 months, I was living on the edge of a national park. As far as I could see, there were trees, trees, trees! Now, I'm living on the 6th floor of an enormous concrete apartment building (don't worry, there are large blocks of random color to add style!?), and my view--aside from the four lanes of traffic running under my window, the small park basketball court across the street and the boxy yellow tram winding behind the parking lot--encompasses more of the same industrial living complexes. Hello, city!
• Transportation in Wernigerode consists of my feet, a bike and, occasionally, during especially inclement weather, the bus. In Berlin, those three options are only the beginning. Here, my handy little "Monatskarte" (monthly transportation ticket) also allows me free use of the U-Bahn, S-Bahn, Metro Tram and regional trains within my zone. The rain that's been pretty much steadily falling for the last two weeks doesn't affect the pace of life much with that many choices.
• Shopping! Oh. my. goodness. While I've never been an at-the-mall-every-single-weekend type of girl, I do enjoy convenience (aka, having the ingredients/things I want at my constant disposal). While there are still some items I'll have to live more or less without while in Germany (Ziplock bags, chocolate chips, Tillamook cheddar cheese, Enchilada sauce), I admit it's been wildly comforting to see multiple Starbucks on a weekly basis (too expensive to indulge that often, but still reassuring), to walk into a shopping complex (one of hundreds, that is) with enough stores in one building to equal the offerings of the entire city of Wernigerode and, last but not least, to have options for buying groceries after 8 p.m. AND on Sundays. Excuse me if this is blasphemous, but, "Hallelujah!"

Of course, my job title has also changed--hence the move. Taking a three-month hiatus from my status of assistant teacher, I'm back in the world of journalism, working as a reporting intern at the English online newspaper The Local.

Fortunately, my start date at the paper coincided with a Germany-wide movement, remembering the 50th anniversary of the construction of the Berlin Wall. This meant right away I was able to cover two extremely interesting stories (In case you missed them, the links are here and here).

East Germany, under the communist Soviet regime, started construction on what would become the Berlin Wall on August 13, 1961. Today, remnants of the wall are found behind their own fences--preserving the barrier as a reminder.

At any rate, being back in Berlin has allowed me to experience more in two weeks than I probably did in two months in Wernigerode. Both had their seasons (read here), but I'm thrilled to be back up to game speed for the time being.

Viele Grüße aus Berlin!!!

More than a Marathon

Over two months remain until the 34^th annual Harz Gebirgslauf, a traditional running event that’s drawn around 3,000 yearly participants to the Harz National Park every second weekend of October since 1978, but Christiane Schierhorn (55) has already considered which race she’ll participate in this year.  For Schierhorn and her husband, Christoph, both long-time residents of Wernigerode, Germany, the question is not of participation—he’s competed in the event all 33 years, she all except for in 1980 and 1983, when she was pregnant with the couple’s two children—but simply selection of the most fitting race for their current life situation.

The location alone would justify the trip and entrance fee for most athletes. With a start edging Hasserode, Wernigerode’s western city component, the 2 km children’s run, the 5 km, the 11 km, the half  marathon as well as the 10 and 25 km hiking/Nordic walking competitions foray through woods golden with bright fall leaves, past small forest ponds and, for the longer stretches, up over lookout points offering views of the red-roofed neighboring villages, windmilled farmscape and to northern Germany’s highest point, the Brocken. Especially aspiring athletes can do more than glimpse the Brocken in passing, though. The Brocken Marathon leads participants on a path straight up to the 1,142 m summit (3,743 ft) before curving back down into Wernigerode.

The Schierhorns, however, add another level of personal importance to the race: it was the catalyst that brought the couple back together again, leading to their eventual marriage.

Although Schierhorn had been in the same class with Christoph at Gerhard Hauptmann Gymnasium, one of three grammar schools in Wernigerode, they were only a couple for six months before breaking the relationship and beginning university studies.

In 1978, Schierhorn was home on break from her university in Potsdam and happened to run into Christoph, looking at the large posters advertising the first Harz Gebirgslauf. The premiere event offered three distance categories: 13km, 23km and marathon.

Advertising in Wernigerode for the 33rd annual Harz-Gebirgslauf.

“I knew [Christoph] was very keen to take part in this sports event,” Schierhorn said.

She also knew that if she registered herself as well, she would be able to meet him again in Wernigerode that October, something she was extremely keen on.

Today, Schierhorn boasts a slew of athletic achievements, including two marathons and a 90 km cross-country ski race. When she registered for that first 11 km, though, she wasn’t a runner at all.

Motivated by the desire to impress Christoph and to improve her body image, she took her training seriously, running different circles every day in the forest bordering her Potsdam dormitory. At last, she reached a training distance of 8 km.

“If I managed 8 km, I can manage more,” she thought.

Her reasoning proved correct as Schierhorn successfully completed her race, ranking 2^nd fastest in the women’s division.

“My [now] husband was very proud, and we were a couple again,” she summarized.

The combined draw of romance and race continued to attract the couple, married in July 1980, turning the event into a family tradition. Both of the Schierhorn’s children have also participated in the race, though more infrequently than their parents. Schierhorn always prepares a special cheese and spinach pasta for the Friday night pre-race dinner, and the family celebrates with friends after the race on Saturday, enjoying cake, coffee and tea. Occasionally, they’ve also attended the Harz Gebirgslauf-sponsored “Sportlerparty.”

Christoph, who has completed the marathon 6 times and the 11 km 19 times, collects the annual results booklets, carefully highlighting the times of family and friends.

“It’s like a hobby for him—he reads all the results, reads all the names,” Schierhorn explained.

She enjoys the atmosphere, the people and the weather, which, with few exceptions, has almost always been sunny.

October in Wernigerode offers an spectacular array of brightly-colored trees.
Combined with the 4,000+ participants, the beautiful location in the Harz
National Park makes the Harz-Gebirgslauf an ideal friendly athletic event.

“It’s a very nice countryside; it’s important because it’s in my hometown,” she said. “I know a lot of the sportsmen and sportswomen. It’s a little bit like a family.”

Christoph received a commemorative prize after his 20^th and 30^th consecutive participation, and Schierhorn was titled “Miss Harz Gebirgslauf” in 1998.  She continued to push herself athletically, completing the Brocken Marathon in 2001 with a time of 4:31:26, five years after finishing her first marathon in Berlin.

“My dream was to manage [the Brocken Marathon] once in my life,” she said. “It was a perfect day—sunny. I had a perfect view on top of the Brocken, more than 70 km.”

At 45, she was also up for the challenge physically.

“It was hard, but it was easier than the marathon in Berlin because I was better prepared,” she said.

Nowadays, the couple both struggles with knee problems, with Schierhorn favoring the walking events in recent years.

“Sometimes I think it’s better to do nothing, but it’s a good tradition,” she said.

And, maybe, an even better story.

***

This year’s events will take place on October 10, 2011. For more on the Harz Gebirgslauf, including information about routes and registration, visit the official Web site: http://www.harz-gebirgslauf.de

Being a Fulbright English Teaching Assistant in Germany is...

…sitting in a small boarding house room with 3 eighth graders, taking 2 hours to translate 3 cupcake recipes into English, and watching them polish off the bag of “real American” Starburst jelly beans I brought for them to try.

Side view of the school,
conveniently located on
Johann-Sebastian-Bach Str.

…playing the ten-fingers “I have never” game with my English reading group. They liked it so much we played it twice. This on the heels of a hot-seat question game. I now know what several of my students would do if they were the opposite gender. Interesting.

…being mobbed every day in the school courtyard by cute little 5^th graders who have a million questions . Did I mention they’re absolutely adorable? It warms my heart.

…walking to get ice cream in the city at night with two tenth graders while I quiz them on characterizations for their upcoming test.

…spending Friday afternoons drinking tea and reading my favorite teen books with an especially advanced student.

Sometimes it seems like being a teaching assistant encompasses everything BUT teaching. Don’t get me wrong—I DID spend a Monday evening tutoring session working through verb tenses with a 7^th grader. (Can AMERICAN 7^th graders even differentiate between present progressive and present perfect? Didn’t think so.) However, the life I lead here in the Harz Mountains is anything except for ordinary.

Landesgymnasium für Musik in Wernigerode, Germany--
the school, where I spend my "teaching hours" each week.

I spend time strolling among historic rainbow-colored half-timbered houses, consider a walk up to the CASTLE a normal activity and ride my bike to-and-from school along a railroad track where a steam-powered train—complete with black clouds pouring out of the smoke stack, water dripping onto the gravel as the train races past and stops traffic as it crosses through one of the three four-way intersections in town, and a whistle that momentarily drowns out ALL other sounds—passes through multiple times a day. Especially when the sun shines, I constantly have the feeling I’ve wandered into the setting of some fairy tale.

To be honest, there are times I wish this WERE a fairy tale so that I could slam the book shut, end the “adventure” and be back in Oregon—immediately. Being a Fulbright English Teaching Assistant in Germany is also…

…spending hours of my life online, “talking to my computer” and staying up ridiculously late in order to keep in touch with family and friends back home.

…getting sick innumerable numbers of time and spending whole weekends in bed.

…being frustrated and confused by cultural differences.

…feeling small and lonely.

At home, for instance, I may never sit in my kitchen, watching rain pelt down outside, accompanied by rolling thunder rumbles, and wonder just how I am going to get back to school for afternoon activities (Biking in thunder is probably a bad idea; walking half an hour one way isn’t an incredibly attractive option with a very. slowly. healing sprained ankle; even limping uphill to the bus stop 10 minutes away doesn’t help very much), but I would also never experience everything positive I listed above if I didn’t work through the everyday.

A random sculpture found
while wandering in Werni.

Precisely this may be the value of Fulbright’s worldwide exchange programs. Lasting cross-cultural connections don’t happen from abroad, and, especially in Germany, they need time to be planted, grow and bloom—to weather through the seasons.

Fulbright applicants are allowed to choose their own country, which provides just as much of a safety net or comfort zone as the individual chooses. When I decided to return to Germany, I had an idea of what I’d face, but living here long(er) term has still made a difference. My day-to-day life is occasionally so bizarre that I wouldn’t believe it if I weren’t experiencing it.

I left home, hoping to gain a fresh perspective, form new friendships, try out the EFL and Teaching Writing classes from senior year at WOU, improve my German, gain a million stories to tell and see some of the world.

It’s only been eight and half months, but I have accomplished all of that in full. Remaining time—however long—will enrich this understanding and, I’m sure, provide another hearty helping of both deeply confounding and utterly exhilarating times. Fulbright may be far from “normal” life, but it’s an amazing ride.

If traditional transportation doesn't suit your needs, you can hop on one of these horse-drawn wagons, operated year-round in Wernigerode. In winter, try a sleigh ride through the snow-covered woods!