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Nostalgia and the Trumpet

Sunday 23 January 2000 | 0 Comments

I somehow made it through the afternoon/evening without thinking too much of what was going on in Lipnica. Of course it wouldn’t have done any good — I’m here, unable to go there for months at least. And to be honest, at this point I’m glad I wasn’t there — the morning/day after studniówka is always a bit horrendous. I wouldn’t have gotten back home (wherever that might have been — the Matelas’ place, I guess) until sometime this morning, and the rest of today would have been shot. What would I have done today? All things considered (i.e., I would be there on vacation with responsibilities for tomorrow — no lesson plans, no grading, nothing), I might have tried to meet Janusz at Quattro sometime this afternoon and just sit around doing next to nothing. But I’m here, not there — moot points all in all.

I got a new Philadelphia Trumpet (the December ‘99 issue) in the mail Friday and I’ve thumbed through it throughout the weekend. I’ve noticed two things afresh:

There is an increasing number of articles about China — specifically the “Red” aspect of its political structure. The reasons for this are a little unclear. In the two articles in the latest Trumpet, there are no mentions of China “in prophecy” and considering how it’s supposed to be Germany that defeats America, I’m a little unclear on what role China is supposed to play in all this. I can understand the article on the Panama Canal if it were Germany that was gaining control over it, but it’s China — or at least a Chinese conglomerate.
Among the Trumpet writers (or at least those in the Flurry clan — Stephen and his father Gerald) there seems to be virtual worship of two folks: Teddy Roosevelt and Winston Churchill. They are great leaders, oft quoted in the Trumpet. Yet, according to PCG’s theology, they are by necessity deceived people. They might as well be worshipping Satan — they didn’t tithe; they didn’t keep the Sabbath; they didn’t abstain from Christmas; they ate crab and shrimp and pork. They are as foul as the rest of the unconverted scum of the earth.

I started a letter to Anna P. yesterday, though I really didn’t get that far with it. It was taking me quite a bit of time to eek out a few lines in Polish. I’m torn about whether to write in Polish or English. If I write in the former, then everyone can read it — and I trust no one in that village regarding mail. Poczta Polska has a less-than-stellar record in my experience, and further, if the letter gets delivered to the wrong address, I have no doubt that the individual who accidentally receives it will read it. Not that I’m writing the most personal things in the world — to a degree, it wouldn’t even bit a big deal considering the content. Yet I know how people in that village talk, so I don’t really want to take a chance. Yet if I write in English, then it will be all the more enticing if it’s mis-delivered; and Anna might not have the motivation to wade through all the unknown portions. For now I’m writing in Polish, but we’ll see.

Studniowka and Complaining

Saturday 22 January 2000 | 0 Comments

As I write, some of my absolutely favorite students are knee-deep in their studniówka. How I wish I could be there. I wonder if Adam is there? I can’t really see why he would be — if he doesn’t even know the students’ names, why would he care about their studniówka? On the other hand, if he’s the strange one he seems to be, he might just be there, sitting with the teachers, not saying a word. I wonder if Danuta is there. In some ways, I really doubt it. She certainly wouldn’t want to spend so much time with the teachers, but she might have gone to see the students. Doubtful, but one never knows.

Yesterday I had to go to Carberry’s for lunch — I was expecting to go out with Adam (he’s offered to buy me lunch because of all the time I wasted working on that stupid project this week that seems to have been, by and large, for naught) but he’d already brought something for lunch. And of course that meant if I wanted to eat, I’d have to go get something myself — and pay for it myself, that is. Anyway, I went with several of the DLG folks — Ryan, Stephen, Jennifer, Rob, and a tech guy who’s name I can’t recall. I didn’t really say that much because I didn’t have anything to say about the topics of conversation. They talked (for some bizarre reason) about how much they hated Dunkin’ Donuts — how they won’t even set foot in there. They talked about the “horrible” work environment — I could have added something here, but to what end? I just sat there thinking, “Try the teachers’ room in Liceum Techniczne. That’s bad. This is heaven in comparison.”

Another topic: complaints about the fact that they’ve stopped bringing pastries and instead are bringing bagels for lunch. How ridiculous — they’re complaining about free food. For all intents and purposes, they’re wanting to say to DLG administration, “Look, we know you’re giving us this food, but we’re not satisfied with what you’re giving us!” It’s just a little ludicrous.

During the whole conversation I just sat gazing out the window, not really saying a single word. I’m not sure what I could say — I’m not good at “small talk” I’ve realized. I said that to Chhavi yesterday — “You’re just not good at talk,” she laughed. I’d have to disagree in a way. If it’s something that I’m interested in, and if it’s something that I feel at least vaguely knowledgeable, then I’ll contribute to the discussion. But talking about bagels and the oily nature of the coffee there (they were complaining about that as well) — no thanks. Nothing worth wasting my breath on.

I had a very Eastern sequence of thoughts while sitting there. Why am I so ambivalent to so many things? Why are the most common words to come from my mouth, “I don’t care?” It’s simply because the less preferences I have, the less stress I have to worry about. If I don’t care, then anything will do. If I can drink any kind of coffee put in front of me, then that’s one less thing I have to stress about. If I don’t care that I chose a rye bagel and just go ahead and eat it, so much the better for my stress levels.

More Nostagia

Thursday 20 January 2000 | 0 Comments

I still want to write “1999,” I guess because I don’t actually write enough in here. The twentieth already and all I’ve got are seven pages to show for the month. Rather pathetic, but I just don’t have anything to write about. I’m not reading anything that makes me want to write; I’m not doing anything that makes me want to write. I’m just existing — going to work, coming home, cooking dinner, realizing I’m in a rut only to repeat it the next day.

As I go back and read over entries from my time in Lipnica, I realize that I wrote almost exclusively about two or three things: the changes in the WCG, my new LW friends and the adventures I was having (i.e., drinking in bars, hanging out with Charles, listening to blues with Janusz), and — most frequently — about students. Now I’m burned out on the stupidity within the WCG and its sister churches; I never see my friends from Poland; and I never have any interaction with anyone other than those at work. So what does that leave me as journal fodder? Not much.

I suppose I could write about what’s been happening at work, but what good would that be? It’s just a bunch of office nonsense — nothing remotely meaningful. Nothing, at any rate, worth writing about, I guess. I could write about what happened today — the nonsense with the American History 2 book. Yet to what avail? Will I ever go back and read that entry and think, “Oh, those were the days!” Will I ever remember this at some point and wonder when exactly it happened? Will I ever really remember writing this? I doubt it. On the other hand, I have memories of writing in my journal in Lipncia — I could journalize about my Lipnica journal. And I guess that’s exactly what I’m doing now. The point is, I won’t ever do that about this period of my life, I think. In fact, I believe journal keeping will never again be like it was when I was living in Lipnica.

I went back to read old journal entries about my student teaching to see how much I was writing about teaching — tons, is the predictable answer. I didn’t know how to motivate; I didn’t know how to take charge and give them personal, intellectual freedom; I didn’t know anything. I was an utter failure! Of course it was my first time. As I read about my woes, I realized in the back of my head I was forming mini-lesson plans to deal with the same topics, thinking at the same moment, “I could teach that much better now.”

I also came across this gem:

Sunday 15 October 1995

9:34 p.m.

I am finally back home after a somewhat torturous departure. I cried again, upset with the fact that my last feast for several years (three or four, at least) was such a pathetic failure. I guess the main thing that was so very upsetting was the fact that I was still alone. I spent the whole day alone (except for sitting with Mom during church) and it was just depressing.

Fairly amazing — it wasn’t “my last feast for several year.” It was, indeed, my last Feast of Tabernacles ever. I will never again go to such a thing, and I feel my life is much better for it.

With all the things I’ve done in my life since quitting the WCG, it feels as if — in some weird way — I never attended. I’ve grown so accustomed to Saturdays being just like any other day; to eating whatever the hell I please; to spending all my money and not having to hold back twenty percent; to going out on Friday nights (though I haven’t really done that since coming back from Poland) — it’s unreal. Friday night rituals in Poland became Dudek with Charles or Adam’s with Janusz and Kamil.

Another fun quote:

Winter will always bring memories of Kathe. I will constantly recall the countless times we would lie in front of the heater as it blew its welcomed warm air over our toes. Even when I have been married (Will I get married?) for fifty years, I will recall the cold, dark drives to her house, or the sound of her pulling into our driveway as dinner was being prepared.

The truth is, I never think about Kathe anymore. I talked to Lori about her for a while on 1 January, but that was the first time in ages that I’d even thought of her.

Nostalgic Thoughts

Monday 10 January 2000 | 0 Comments

“My old addition,” sings kd lang — the first time I’ve listened to it since coming back to the States, I think. Another one of those songs that I’d sit and listen to while looking out the window at the school, at the EKG treeline, at the shell of a house abandoned by those gone off to “greener pastures” (Didn’t they realize the paradise they had? As if Lipnica really were a paradise.).

It’s funny — I never really longed for America like this. I was happy when 1998 rolled around — the calendar year of my return, I wrote on 1 January 1998 (after the great party with the guys).

Today I spent a lot of time finishing up the silly lists of glossary terms (as well as bios, images, and so on). Robert wasn’t there, but I’m not sure that was such a loss. He wasn’t feeling well Friday and I don’t think he managed to accomplish much in that condition — it probably would have turned out the same way.

I just don’t have that much to write about in my job. When my job was teaching I had tons to write about. Conversations I’d had; teachers’ lack of professionalism; difficulty with Damian; difficulty remembering that Jola was my student; playing basketball with the guys; unbelievable (and disappointing) instances of cheating — and now. Nothing worth writing about, really. So sad.

(Strange realization — it has now been six months since I left Lipnica. A little more than that, but six months definitely. In some ways it has absolutely flown by — disappeared in a flash. The next six months probably won’t be so merciful.)

Another Year Back in the States

Sunday 09 January 2000 | 0 Comments

Yet another calendar year away from Poland. This is the first calendar year in five that I haven’t spent at least some time in Poland. Of course I’m a little sad, but not quite like I was. I might even be “getting over” this nonsense. Naturally that’s a bit of a lie, because I still think of Lipnica, that sense of complete fulfillment I experienced sometimes, and I still wonder whether I’ll ever feel that way again. At this moment, if I could, I would go back. And yet I sit here, thinking about all the nasty thing about the work — the boring planning, the Sunday nights not having any idea what I’d be doing the next day, and I think, “It wasn’t all shiny, happy days.” And I understand once again that all I miss is the interaction with the kids (primarily), feeling that I was contributing to their lives in some meager way. I miss seeing kids smile in class — especially when it wasn’t just be being stupid for silliness’ sake, but because I was being silly while teaching something. Like what Krystyna remembered, I guess.

The funny thing is, I don’t even really remember much about that lesson. I remember plenty of other lessons — the safe-sex lesson with class IV, “guest lecturing” in class IIC, line-reading exercises. That’s another thing I miss, too, I guess — the unexpected good lesson.

I got a zaproszenie to class IV’s bal studniókowy on 22 January. If I were living alone and had no responsibilities other than to pay for my way through the world, I would go, I think. Seven hundred dollars for a couple of days? Maybe I wouldn’t after all, but I’d certainly love to. I’d love to see their faces when I walked in — that would be the best part.

I actually got a lot of mail while I was in Christiansburg, mainly Christmas cards. Still, it’s true what they (who?) say about the thought. I’m just happy that they thought of me, that they remember me. Krystyna said that they would never forget me, and asked that I not forget either, and so maybe I’ll be getting Christmas cards from them for a while.

I guess it’s true about never knowing the impact one has had on others, and what makes it difficult to be back is that I know I’m no longer making an impact. I guess I never really knew how I was affecting folks’ lives while I was there, but I was fairly sure that I was having some impact. (Halina’s unexpected letter is perfect evidence of that, I guess. I had no idea that she was sitting there thinking, “I want to be like that when I grow up.”) Here I’m fairly certain that I’m doing nothing for much of anyone.

One of the things I got (rather, Chhavi and I received) was a letter from Danuta in England. It’s good that she was able to get away from Lipnica for a while. She said that things in the staff room are worse than ever — they’re gossiping about others when they’re in the same room, whispering about each other at the end of the table. Agata and Ramzes were a topic for a while, and Danuta told Agata but they decided not to do anything about it. Adam is a lazy ass as usual. She said that she can’t trust him in any sense whatsoever. When students come to her during consultation, they ask her endless questions about what he was supposed to have covered. And she said that there’s no chance of him leaving or getting kicked out because he likes it there. He doesn’t talk to anyone; he doesn’t even know the students’ name; his favorite lesson is babysitting; he’s doing nothing — why he likes it there, I don’t know. Gravy train, I suppose — he doesn’t have to do anything and he’ll get paid for it. I really should thank him when I get there. “You’ve really done so much to make me look like an incredible teacher! You show how bad things can be while I showed them how good things can be. You showed them that I’m an exceptional teacher! Thanks.”

Black Madonna

Saturday 15 May 1999 | 0 Comments

The window decorations began appearing early last week – colored paper cut-outs in the shapes of crosses, madonnas, and various religious symbols (doves, chalaces, candles, etc.). By Thursday, 99% of the houses here had something in the windows. Then the roadside streamers began appear, tied to pieces of twine stretched between wooden stakes nailed into the shoulder of the road. The reason for all this: "Some image of significance – a madonna or somethin – is coming," a friend informed me after having talked to Jola, a friend of who lives across the street. By the time we left Friday for Nowy Targ, a nearby city, the whole of Lipnica "centrum" was covered with decorations. And my suspicions had been confirmed – the Black Madonna of Czestachowa, the "queen of Poland."

When I came back from Nowy Targ Saturday afternoon the whole area was incredibly crowded – nuns, grandmothers, children, all milling about with the volunteer firemen in uniform and trying to keep everyone off the road itself. I went to the apartment, got my camera, and met [Susan] and [Mrs. Nowak] on the roadside. By that time, the fire department's band had joined the crowd, as well as a group of traditional musicians decked out in traditional Orawian "strój" (costume). A procession of altar boys came down from the church, followed shortly by archbishop of Kraków and at least fifty priests.

This whole time, I kept thinking, "This is all for a picture!" The Black Madonna certainly has an almost mythical air, and it bends the knees of even the most "secular" Pole. For Protestants, it's sometimes difficult for me to tell the difference between the Catholic notions of "adoration," "veneration," and "worship." They pray to Mary, but they don't worship her. They cross themselves when they see the Black Madonna, and kneel before statues of Mary and Christ, but don't consider this idolatry because they don't see it as worship. Veneration, they say, or adoration.

After a few moments, the sound of a siren announced the coming of the the madonna. It was housed in a Mercedes, the interior of which had been decorated with rosaries and other symbols of worship. A priest got out, walked to the back, and pressed a button set above the taillight of the van. The back hatch of the van began rising silently, and the madonna began sliding out – all automated, all very professional (and expensive, I'd assume). The priest/driver then nodded to the priests of Lipnica who approached the madonna, knelt, and kissed it after crossing themselves.

The madonna itself was housed on a special frame from which protruded two poles (much like the famed Ark of the Covenant) which were used to carry the queen of Poland. She was hoisted on firemen's shoulders, and the crowd began singing, "Swięta Maryja, Matka Boże, witamy ciebie." (Holy Mary, Mother of God, we welcome you.) They carried the madonna down to the church and all went inside for a special two hour mass.

All this was very curious. It seems impossible for them to deny at the very least that they are within a hair's breadth of worshiping this thing. All the decoration, the pomp and displays of devotion. Of course all this was for the sake of the fifty or so priests from outside the village that came along with the madonna, but I would argue that the inhabitants did this to show the priests how devoted they are to the madonna. Anyway, all this was for a picture.

And I've saved the real irony of the situation for the end: I found out at the beginning of the processional that it's not even the original, but a replica! The real queen of Poland sits in her shrine in Czestachowa, where other people are bowing down to the real picture, worshiping it and not some impostor. A friend assured me: "But there's only one copy! This is the only copy!" Still, a fake is a fake . . .

Just a few moments ago, there was a report on the radio about the madonna's visit to Lipnica. The vicar of Lipnica got quite a bit of radio time to talk about the significance of this (which had been in the works since September). He said something about being able to see the results of the visit, seeing how long the people will remember why Mary (he referred to the painting constantly and consistently as if it were a person) came to Lipnica. Or rather, why the replica of the painting of Mary was brought to Lipnica.

Time Change

Tuesday 30 March 1999 | 0 Comments

Yesterday I thought I woke up at six, and I was pleased with myself for having pulled my lazy self out of bed at that hour. I made some coffee, got Mystery of the Ages and sat down in the "study" to read. Around half past I noticed a few people heading to school. "Strange," I thought, but continued reading. Shortly thereafter, I heard the noise of more people. I looked up and saw hordes heading to the school — the hordes that are usually going to school at seven thirty. Then I noticed the biology teacher was among them, and I knew they'd all taken a bus from Murewanice. "Could it be? Did we switch to summer time this weekend and we didn't know?" I wondered, but immediately dismissed it. "We've never switched over so early. In March?" I thought. But then I heard men working out front, and I saw cars heading to school and realize that's precisely what happened. So I headed to school on twenty minutes' notice. I didn't get any breakfast until after the second class when I managed to get a Twix downstairs, but despite all this, it wasn't a bad day.

Long Day

Tuesday 17 November 1998 | 0 Comments

It has been an exhausting day. I had practice maturas from eight to nine, then I came home to do some planning. I taught class IIIA and then had an hour break, so I took the opportunity to run take some pictures in the cemetery while the snow was falling and everything was relatively untouched. I also took a picture off the Mastelas’ bridge – another attempt. Then I rushed back to school to wolf down some lunch and then head off to teach IA and IC, then tried yet another experiment with IVA. I had Anna B. and Monika K. conduct class for a while. It meant that we didn’t cover nearly as much as we should have, but I think it might actually work out if I give them enough time to prepare for their teaching engagement. We’ll see. I want to give them as many opportunities to speak somewhat authentic English as possible. After that Chhavi and I taught dancing for almost an hour. We came home and I had enough time to realize I was really tired before heading off for an hour of basketball. Afterwards I returned home and cooked dinner. So basically I’ve been going for fourteen hours straight without many real breaks.