Training Day
Results For "Month: July 1996"
Language
There is something about the process of becoming bilingual that has made me examine language all the more. More than ever before I realized the truth of “The word is not the thing.” Dom and home are two words that mean the same thing, but they are not the same things. They simply prompt in speakers of other languages the same images. Of course the associations will be totally different – for some it means comfort while for others it’s nothing short of pain. It’s just a beautiful thing, language.
My inability to communicate is so very frustrating. I wonder (wander) what gets lost in the translation. I’ve often thought that so much gets lost simply by trying to communicate. Words are so very limiting even when all the words are comprehensible. It’s a wonder that we are able to communicate with anyone – linguistic problems make it a small miracle.
What I Am in Polish
Yet another day in Poland – I’ve been here almost two full months. How quickly it has gone, too. Will two years go so quickly?
The weather was [filled with] its usual strangeness. This morning it was beautiful with rich blue skies and warm sun. The clouds overtook everything and the dull grey to which we all have grown accustomed returned only to be shattered by a fierce wind storm with a bit of rain. So now it’s cold yet again, as one might expect.
(I love the way wet ink glistens in the light. It lends a feeling of authenticity that is lacking on the computer screen.)
I learned today that my name means in every-day Polish “dishes.” So (co?) I will bring to everyone’s minds thoughts of place settings and flatware.
Television and Such
This morning we watched a replay of the opening [ceremony] of the Olympics. It’s so strange that they are happening six hours from where I live and here I am in Poland. The ceremony was good but there was one bit which was spectacular. They put up a circular screen that enclosed dancers and an enormous light. The result was a shadow dance which was at least fifty feet high.
On a sad note, the flag bearer for Poland died during the opening ceremony. Piotr seems somewhat amused by the whole thing but it seems rather terrible to me.
There is some good news coming from Bosnia. R. Karadzich (sp?) retired as leader of his political party and promised not to run for any political office. Of course I don’t think is word is worth all that much. He has proven before that he has no qualms against lying – after all, he has done much worse.
We were supposed to go to the country but the weather was/is so wretched that the whole thing got called off. This whole week the weather has been incredibly [awful]. It’s been cold and windy with lots of rain. I guess I’d rather be cold that sweating. In the land of no air conditioning, this really is a blessing. Besides, complaining about this weather will do nothing. It is a waste of time.
Training Woes
Another tech session, another endurance test. I cannot understand why we do such things. It is such an incredible waste of time – it could be used in so much more effective ways. But of course I really shouldn’t complain. Still, time spent working on lesson plans and/or our syllabi would be much better. This is especially true now that we’re both teacher and learner – we have so much stuff to do that ends up being done at home. So we end up being at school nine hours a day and then we go home and do homework and lesson planning.
One interesting thing about Polish students of English and the future tense: One way to form the future tense is “will” (future tense of by ) plus past tense. So a literal translation will produce “I will went.” They are simply applying a Polish grammatical structure on English, just as we must often do the same in reverse.
An obvious observation: There is not an action which cannot be described in words. The writer’s job is to find those elusive words.
I must teach two lessons tomorrow and though I am hesitant to do it, I am doing a final lesson on past progressive and simple past. I will be using a modified textbook activity which I think will really help to clear up any lingering misunderstandings. I’ll also be doing a lesson on modals.
We had TEFL session today on teaching with music and the final two pieces were Carmina Burana and the second movement to Górecki’s Symphony No. 3. The presenter seemed somewhat impressed that I recognized the pieces and floored when I mentioned that I have four Górecki CDs (I have five but I forgot about one). It was a triumphal moment to name those tunes in class . . .
Concert
A New Friend
Krakow to Radom
I made it home again. I went back to bed after writing the last entry and stayed for two hours. It was wonderful.
On the train coming home I sat with two Polish women who kept trying to talk to me. It was actually amazing how much information we exchanged. Then at the bust stop I had quite a long talk with [another] woman. She asked me how much my backpack cost. From there we progressed to where I came from, if my parents were with me, if I had any siblings, [etc.]. When I told her I was an only child, she shook her head, as if to say that she feels for my parents. It was rewarding – she told me my Polish is beautiful (“ladna”).
While I was heading back to the Rynek this afternoon a man approached me, asking “Do you speak English?” I must have been extraordinarily, obviously American. At the Greek restaurant I believe the guys had a bet on whether I was American. I guess my cap and North Face stuff made it a bit more than obvious.
Krakow, Redux
Once again I am here in Kraków; this time I am alone. Except for isolated exchanges with shopkeepers, I’ve kept to myself without speaking to anyone. This city is cozier this time. I suppose that’s due in part to the fact that I haven’t been bustling about (as I was last time). I’ve been taking my time, looking at what’s around me with no particular destination in mind. Not only hast it been relaxing but it has also given me an opportunity to explore the city consciously, getting to know it much better.
I just relocated myself. A staggering drunk intruded on my quiet spot in the park. He fell and passed out, and I doubt he will be in the best of moods when he wakes up. No I am sitting on the poet’s monument in the Rynek with Saint Mary’s right in front of me.
My day has been most relaxing, as I was saying. Perhaps I’ve accomplished little (or maybe even nothing), but I am so very relaxed – quite a therapeutic day.
I’ve spent much of the day watching the people. I’ve heard several languages and seen a few races other than Americans – oops (Freudian slip) – whites, rather. I’ve heard snatches of English conversations all of the city. I’ve no idea how many Americans are here. I sat next to two in the cafe, but I didn’t speak to them. (I feared a repeat of the asshole I talked to last time. “What are you doing here?” “Playing the guitar.” No joke!)
It’s now seven – the top of the hour and the trumpeter plays the truncated music from Saint Mary’s tower. Legend has it that this piece was what was played to warn of the coming Turks. It stops unexpectedly in the middle of a bar because the watchman was struck in the throat with an arrow. Since then the piece has remained hauntingly unfinished.
More Bus Accidents
This morning on the bus I had quite a stressful experience. At one of the downtown stops an older gentleman tried to get on the bus and fell. He was holding on to one of the handles on the door when he suddenly lost his balance and started to fall, still holding onto the handle with his left hand. He twisted around as he fell, his gripping hand serving as the pivot point. He lost his grip and fell completely onto the ground. From that point, things seemed to go in slow motion. I glanced around the bus, seeing if anyone was going to help. Then I saw a girl from the stop approaching the man, offering her hand. His left hand reached for something to grip. It was then that the reality of the situation struck me. I jumped up and assisted the man as he struggled to his feet. I was going to help him actually onto the bus, but he gently pushed away my hand.
Once we were back on the bus he thanked me profusely, then said (or rather mumbled) something to me and I could neither hear the man nor understand what he said. He got off, saying anything, obviously expecting some response. I simply said “Tak,” and smiled, hiding behind my sunglasses and hat.