The Day Before Oktoberfest

Since the weather in Munich is so overcast, I've taken to hiding inside my apartment and cooking. I have this nice rice recipe that I love and have been try to find creative ways to cook without dairy or soy. This involves some seitan and rice milk. 

Tomorrow Oktoberfest starts again. It's unbelievable that we have lived in Germany for over a year now! This year we are prepared- I have 2 Dirndls and Maria has Lederhosen. There will be a queer tent tomorrow and the mayor will kick off Oktoberfest by opening the first keg early on in the day. 

Slovenia is beautiful

An interesting mix of capitalism and socialism, repair and disrepair, modern and ancient. Here are some photos from a river gorge, Lake Bled and the capitol, Ljubljana. 

Overcast

If only I had known about the weather before I moved across the world to Munich. 

S.A.D. is setting in. How come there wasn't a proper summer in this damn city? All of a sudden, the leaves are turning brown and falling off the trees. Brown! 

One spends most of the year, looking forward to a couple of warm, sunny months. And when the sun hardly shines in the summer, it is pathetic. Never in my life have I checked the forecast. I am so tired of seeing images of rain drops and clouds. To torture myself, I play around with the webpage by putting in other cities. I put in Austin...over 100 degrees and sunny, sunny, sunny. New York in the high 80s and sunny. Even Vienna and Berlin look better than here. 

A.M.B.

She hired me on the spot.

However, instead of excitement, a sense of impending doom crept up on me. Something about the whole situation seemed creepy, strange. She wasn't friendly and she definitely didn't smile. She seemed desperate for someone, anyone to take the position. Being an optimistic and naive 22 year old, I accepted the job. 

On what was to be my first day, I woke up early and caught the L-train heading to the south side of Chicago. As the train headed south, I watched the racial dynamic change. Slowly, but surely, all of the white passengers got off the train. By the time I arrived at my stop, I was the only white person in sight. 

 I received a key and climbed the stairs to the 3rd floor. Anxiously, I unlocked the door and peeked in. It was an old building, erected in the 1890s, and the room had a tall ceiling, large windows and wooden floor. At the time it was built, the room had probably been gorgeous. But now it was in a state of complete chaos and neglect. In what was to be my classroom in a matter of hours, lay stacks of old papers and worn books and heaps of broken desks and chairs. After spending the entire day clearing out the room, I began to search for supplies and desks and chairs in decent condition. Another teacher led me to the "supply cabinet". When I saw that there was no paper, no chalk, no text books, no teachers editions, no tape and no staplers, I began to panic. Except for a single box of scissors and some pencils, the cabinet was completely empty. I rushed down to the principal's office to ask if I could use the copy machine and computer in her office.  I was told that teachers did not have access to these machines. How were teachers supposed to teach the students without any materials? 

Thankfully, my family and friends donated some supplies and pooled their money together to buy me a used laptop and a tiny copy machine.

On September 15th, 2 weeks after the school year had officially begun, I stood at the front of my 4th/5th grade split classroom and introduced myself to my new students. 34 pairs of brown eyes looked me up and down. 

The hardest year of my life, working as a Teach for America teacher at a failing inner-city school, had begun.