Like many of my millennial, direction-less peers, I was looking for something to do after graduating from college in May 2009.
I knew Washington, D.C., my hometown, would be happy to add me to the ranks of early twentysomething, non-profit workers who love love love happy hour, “can’t wait to check out that new burger place,” and totally didn’t join a kickball team to meet guys/girls. But alas, I wanted to hold out for a bit longer.
So, I thought I’d try a Gap® year, as some call it. But what to do? Though I used to clap at the end of particularly touching Boston Public episodes, I had never seriously entertained the possibility of teaching. I’m not patient enough to wait for my clothes to fully dry in the machine, so I didn’t see how I’d be patient enough for my students to grow academically and intellectually.
I started by Asking Jeeves about teaching opportunities abroad. Jeeves being no help, I turned to Google — “teach English abroad please help” did the trick. I stumbled upon a program in Hungary (“No, thanks, I already had dinner.” “Please leave immediately.”) of all places, and began the process of trying on the program to size.
While it took me a few days to get on board mentally, I knew it would take even longer to convince my hyper-protective Jewish-American parents to let me go somewhere out of their comfort zone (the Northeast corridor).
After a few particularly whiny phone calls, I decided to take a page from my studies of political science and diplomatic history. I wrote them a five-page “white paper” called “Ez Az Hölgy Fog Mindent Kifizetni, or, Why I Think You Should Let Me Go To Hungary.”
In it, I laid out all the things I thought they’d want to hear, paying special care to a section about how the experience “would further my professional development” or some shit. It worked, somehow.
I had never been to Hungary, but it seemed tolerable and I knew there was a low chance of contracting malaria. Also, I had read that Hungarians embrace sausage and mustaches, two of my passions. So, Hungary it was.
I was assigned to a high school in the eastern bloc of the former Eastern Bloc country, a two-hour drive from capital Budapest. I was told that you can determine the significance of a Hungarian town by the number of McDonald’s it has. Debrecen, my town, had two, which made it quite the regional metropolis.
(One of my favorite things about Hungarian Mickey D’s was that they sold these sandwiches that were supposedly American regional delicacies but didn’t actually exist. The “San Francisco Szendvics” had a fried chicken patty, a slice of cheese, bacon and lettuce. The “L.A. Classic Szendvics,” on the other hand, was essentially a glorified Big Mac, just like what the stars of Hollywood eat every single day.)
If I ever forgot that I was no longer in the U.S., Ukraine and Romania were about 25 miles away. (I was later told by students that Ukraine is the place to go for cheap wedding dresses and even cheaper gas. I never had a need for either.)
I taught 9th, 10th, 11th, 12th and 13th graders at Bethlen Gábor Szakközépiskola, a secondary school that specializes in economics. Those high school-age students who don’t end up in a vocational school — including programs for secretaries, electricians, stylists, etc. — must select and apply to a school that specializes in a specific subject matter or academic discipline.
My students ranged in age from 14 to 20, dangerously close to my own age of 22. On my first day, I expected to receive a course syllabus, or a textbook, or some lesson plans, or something. Instead, I was told only to “get them to speak English.”
Without much to go on (and only 50 hours of shoddy, online Teacher of English as Foreign Language training), I had to improvise, and repeat, repeat, repeat. Much to their chagrin, I forced my students to tell me about their weekend on an almost daily basis. Many of them told me regularly that they “enjoyed surfing the net,” which is a thing that Americans no longer say they do. We also played charades and Pictionary often — I mixed in clues and names of celebrities like Justin Bieber and former Hungarian Prime Minister Ferenc Gyurcsány.
And, we talked regularly about Lady Gaga (look her up, she used to be big) and the rapper Xzibit (of “Pimp My Ride” fame), who allegedly has more fans in Hajdú-Bihar County than he does in the continental United States.
It was a struggle. My students were perceptive, but it didn’t take much: they sensed fear, insecurity, a lack of preparation and my Axe Body Spray in the air. They could tell that I didn’t really know what I was doing, and that class would stand still if they weren’t willing to speak up and answer my questions about what they planned to do during their summer vacation and WHY.
Some of my students put a premium on learning and improving their English, and seemed to value my “teaching.” Other students didn’t give a shit and wondered why the school brought in another hamburger-eating American to get in their face and make them talk about their hobbies and music preferences. (Edit: I actually do eat hamburgers on a semi-daily basis, and therefore confirmed most of their preconceptions about Americans.)
One time, a student rolled a cigarette during class, and didn’t even bother to offer me a puff. A fenébe! On several occasions, students answered their phones when they rang during class and gave me dirty looks when I suggested that maybe it wasn’t cool for them to do that.
When I wasn’t at the high school, I was teaching at a local military base, home to the István Bocskai 5th Infantry Brigade. Twice a week, I worked with classes of 10-12 Hungarian soldiers, from privates to powerfully-mustachioed battalion commanders.
My soldiers were preparing for a NATO intermediate language examination that, if passed, would bump up their rank and salary. My job was to help them to speak conversationally about a host of intermediate-level topics like politics, the environment and the economy.
In contrast to my high school classes, our conversations were at a higher level. More “I support the Fidesz Party because of their position on the European Union” and less “I must wear pants every day because my mother tells me to.”
I liked teaching the high schoolers, but I loved teaching my soldiers. They were nice to me (and to each other), seemed to value class time and genuinely wanted to improve their English pronunciation skills.
Our classes together had a routine. First, I would write a topic on our “blackboard,” which was really an erasable marker board propped up on an upside-down chair. (My “desk” was always strewn with Coke bottles and candy wrappers. On several occasions, soldiers brought me sandwiches out of concern for my health.)
After that, I’d give some history and explain the most commonly held views (and why) on the subject. Then, I’d go around the room and solicit opinions from my students, not letting them get away with “I agree” or “No politics for me.” I’d keep asking “why,” “why,” “why,” like a five-year-old.
We worked through most of the major topics pretty quickly. They explained to me (from personal experience) why the tribal customs of Afghanistan make it difficult to build up trust with the local elders, and I explained why a former boxer named George Foreman is now known primarily for his ubiquitous line of miniature grills. It was a fair exchange of information.
One day, in the hopes of generating a more lively conversation, I thought I’d give something a little more “risqué” and “controversial” a shot. So I wrote “abortion” on the board. I knew what to expect.
Without overly generalizing, Hungarian men as a group are perhaps even more casually chauvinistic than American men. One of my favorite fellas from the class was a soldier named Norbert, who went by Norbi (most Hungarians, even burly, machine gun-firing ones, go by a cutesy nickname). I called Norbi “The Hungarian Tom Cruise” (in my head) because of his strapping good looks, battled-tested cool and excellent performance in the Hungarian rendition of Jerry Maguire, Gerri Maguiroszs.
Once, Norbi drove me to Budapest. Another time, I ran into him in Debrecen’s town square. I asked Norbi what he had planned for the weekend. “I will drink whiskey, have sex with my girlfriend, and make her clean my apartment,” he said, beaming.
So yeah, I kept that in mind when I asked Norbi and his classmates — Bálint, Marci, Csábi (pronounced like ‘chubby’), Balázs and Robert — for their thoughts on a reproductive health issue.
The first few soldiers made good on my book-cover reading, rattling off broken-English versions of the same lines of reasoning you hear from American pro-lifers. I did my best to rebut their claims, or at least to explain in English what somebody could retort.
And then I got to Peti. Peti, short for Péter, looked the part of a Hungarian soldier, or any soldier for that matter. He was jacked, as Hungarian bros don’t know to say, with a shaved head and an abundance of salami sandwiches always at his disposal. Peti had served tours of duty in Afghanistan and Kosovo. (My soldiers told me they preferred Kosovo to Afghanistan because it was less dangerous and, more importantly, because they could buy American whiskey at the commissary.)
Peti listened quietly as his classmates spoke. To my surprise, he looked angry. As they continued, his face grew redder. And when it was his time to talk, Peti let them have it. “Why does it matter to you what a woman chooses to do? It is her body, it is an issue for her to decide. A man should not tell her what to do.”
I was shocked. They were shocked. He looked shocked. As Peti continued, it was clear that he had tapped into a passion, a conviction, that he never knew existed in him.
Abortion is certainly not a kitchen-table topic in Hungary, a country where female subservience is visible even in societal naming conventions. While it’s not as common as it used to be, some Hungarian women, upon getting married, literally take their husband’s entire name and simply add né to the end of his first name to feminize it.
So, as I watched Soldier Peti reveal his feminist side in a barren military barracks in a former Eastern Bloc country, I knew it was unusual. I also knew I shouldn’t have been as shocked as I was.
People surprise you all the time, and it was unfair of me to assume that he wouldn’t take a progressive stance because of what he looked like, where he was from and what he did for a living.
Looking back, this exchange, which only lasted a minute or two, is one of my favorite memories from my year in Eastern Europe. But it wasn’t the first time I was surprised.
I was surprised when one of my shyest high school students waited after class for me one day and invited me to go on a day trip with his family.
I was surprised when one of my soldiers brought me a container of homemade pig lard (the Hungarian equivalent of a box of chocolates), when all semester I thought he hated me.
And I was surprised when, on the last day of school, one my classes gave me a poster that read “Never Forget Us” and featured three photos we took as a group (as well as my Facebook profile picture, of course).
But that’s really why I went to Hungary in the first place: to be surprised. To get off the beaten path (high school-college-office job), to see new places, to try new things, and to meet people who would remain on my mind years later.
Tags: abortion, hungary, jeremy barr, teaching, work
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I have nothing against the genre of “I went abroad and here are some anecdotes” stories. But dude, I lived in Hungary for a long time and I still spend every summer there, and it’s not that exotic. “né” is way old fashioned, just like “Mrs Don Draper” would be.
Lard isn’t chocolates – pálinka is!
But I do appreciate you learned some of the language. Sokan nem is próbálkozik.
“”né” is way old fashioned, just like “Mrs Don Draper” would be. ”
This exactly. It’s not just old-fashioned in the same way, it is also used in very similar ways now. I was in Hungary only for a semester, in college, and the only person I knew who used this construction was my host mother. And she used it exactly like my (American) grandma uses “Mrs. Don Draper” (not her actual name). In person, in every setting I was in with her, she was Eva, but when she wrote out her address, she used Palné. This is precisely what my grandma does.
Man Breathes New Life Into “Man Teaches English Abroad, Learns About Self” Genre
thanks jeremy!!
I thought this was pretty funny, but I want to know why on earth you picked “abortion” as a topic of discussion? You said you pretty much knew what their views were going to be, you’re a dude, they’re dudes, (aka none of you is ever going to HAVE one), and it’s probably not a topic they’re going to be required to discuss in a professional capacity?
I would like to have heard more about what happened after Peti expressed his opinions besides “I was surprised.” How did the other soldiers react (besides being surprised)? Did they argue? Was it heated or respectful? Was it possible that choosing this topic could have caused friction in their workplace afterward? I feel like this article spent ten minutes building up to the promised action of the headline and then just dropped it and ran.
I’m also disappointed that it does nothing at all to describe what abortion in Hungary is actually like. I’m no expert on the subject but when Wikipedia tells me “Hungarian women have to seek the approval of a committee before having an abortion” I feel that we are missing some pretty vital context here.
With apologies to Mallory for being That Guy, I think this sums up why I found the article problematic: “To get off the beaten path (high school-college-office job).”
(1) Teaching is a job and it’s problematic to think otherwise (this is a constant theme throughout the article).
(2) The most significant cultural observations that were made in the article referenced McDonald’s (i.e., what they served; what the author ate; the restaurants as yardstick for the significance of a town), which is not really very compelling evidence for having gotten off the beaten path.
There’s also nothing inherently wrong with high school-college-office job. I mean, I did it, I know how relatively unexciting it is, but I also feel so lucky to have gotten a great education at my college and to have a job now. So like, not a wild ride but life is long and there are many other adventures a person can have even if they follow an otherwise linear trajectory.
But yes, teaching is a Real Serious Job and even though it’s temporary for this fellow, it was clearly an important learning experience for some of his younger students and to the soldiers…
I understand that this is tongue-in-cheek, but it’s really rubbing me the wrong way. I’m American, and I lived in Debrecen for a year as an exchange student when I was in high school (almost ten years ago, uristen!) I think it’s rubbing me the wrong way because I have a deep and abiding love for the country, and I don’t appreciate the way it’s portrayed here–as the butt of jokes about the Eastern bloc, pig lard, and McDonalds (of which there are four in Debrecen, not that it matters). Also, Hungary is in Central Europe, and they tend not appreciate being lumped in with Eastern Europe.
Also, Debrecen is the second largest city in the country!
As I was told many times, Hungary is, geographically, in Central Europe, but shares more of a cultural and political history with E.E.
If it clarifies my feelings about Hungary at all, then I should tell you that I have a Hungarian flag flying in my room. I wouldn’t have written this if I didn’t love Hungary. But I can still acknowledge the bad as well as the good, just as a Hungarian spending time in the U.S. could do the same.
I enjoyed the article. I realize this puts me in the minority, but I liked it. I felt like it was light-heartedly written and I appreciated that. I also didn’t look to see who the author was before I started reading it, and I was a little surprised when I hit the end and realized it was written by a man. The tone was not, to me, immediately identifiable as being from “the enemy” (which, all kidding aside, really bothers me. I can joke a bit about misandry but the real practice of it bothers me a lot.)
Hm! I liked this article. I probably would not have wanted to be the only woman in that room, talking about abortion with dudes, but dudes discussing it amongst themselves does not bother me. In fact, those kind of dudes tend to listen to dudes more than to women, so maybe Jeremy and Peti opened some eyes.
On the teaching-English abroad side, I do think there’s something unexamined here, but it would be a different essay with a different point. I taught English in China (just summer school, elementary kids, rather shady situation but I was trying to get back after having lived there as a teen, long story) and had the same experience of being given pretty much zero training. It’s pretty much the wild west when it comes to sending young 20-somethings abroad with no qualifications other than “native speaker.”
On the other hand, I do think there are benefits to shipping young, inexperienced people around the world — to both sides. Cross-cultural exchange of ideas and all that (as long as the foreigner isn’t coming in all White Knight, I’m Going to Enlighten You My New Friends).
Yes, I’m definitely glad that Peti spoke up, but what happened or was discussed after that wasn’t included in the story and I would have liked that!
(Paging Jeremy to the comments)
One of my biggest problems with this was that I honestly don’t remember enough of what was said after that. I could have done it more justice if I had been able to provide more of what was said before and after — what I really have is the memory of it and how everyone immediately reacted to it.
thanks. I feel you on the fuzzy memory thing bro.
I donno, I’m mostly hung up on how he went from “I don’t have the patience to teach” to searching for overseas teaching gigs. Does teaching abroad not count as teaching?
Otherwise, this was a neat read. Not super earth-shattering, but neat. (And I need to learn not to read the comments before posting my own in order to avoid having my opinion influenced by things that aren’t the article.)
YES. I’ve noticed that I have the same issue sometimes. Sometimes it’s a great thing, as I learn more as I read, and sometimes I feel like my own opinion is no longer my own.
Reading the comments definitely helps me see and think things that weren’t obvious to me at first, which is helpful. But at the same time, my immediate reaction to a piece – which is totally important too, isn’t it? – gets smothered by all these other equally interesting thoughts.
Well, I thought this was straight-up fictional satire. Goes to show what I know about kids these days.
The reference to “axe body spray” made me think that as well.
Well, I would think the difference between being the primary teacher of children and an occasional teacher of adults/older teenagers would be pretty big in terms of patience-requirements. I likewise don't have the patience to be a teacher, but I have done a decent job teaching 1-2 hour special programs to kids and I really enjoyed (and according to my students, was good at) being a TA to 17-19 year olds.
Hm. It’s true that Toasting is a good way to freshen up slightly stale material. But I don’t think this was quite toasted enough for how hard as nails the bread was, if you take my meaning. Perhaps next time, grind it up into bread crumbs and make meatballs? Or treat them like meal and make pancakes?
Just wanna say that I loved how thoughtful Jeremy’s responses were to the points made here, and how civil this comments section was. Bless you all.
Ahh, that explains quite a bit. Thank you for responding here and elsewhere in the comments.
I had the great privilege of planning a few NATO Military Medicine conferences in Budapest in 2011, ’12, and ’13, and I would bet money that we worked with some of the same military folks. There’s a NATO Center of Excellence in Buda, and since the official languages of NATO are English and French, it also boosts their appeal as a destination conference center if they have a heavy concentration of staff who are fluent.
That and the pálinka.
They are some of my very favorite people.
Totally off-topic now, but Jeremy if you read this, and any others, how are you feeling about the “Hungary not being a democracy anymore” thing? (because I am feeling pretty awful about it – it really blindsided me)
Would you have gone there for a year if the political situation then had been what it is now? (not in terms of your safety, but would you have felt it was, I don’t know, appropriate?
I do not have my own answers to these questions which is why I am asking
I don’t have cultural ties to Hungary, but I have a layman interest in European politics and frankly, it worries and saddens me. I can’t recommend Hungarian Spectrum enough for more of an in-depth look at the current situation.
Thanks for the link!
Totally off-topic now, but Jeremy if you read this, and any others, how are you feeling about the "Hungary not being a democracy anymore" thing? (because I am feeling pretty awful about it – it really blindsided me)
Would you have gone there for a year if the political situation then had been what it is now? (not in terms of your safety, but would you have felt it was, I don't know, appropriate?
I do not have my own answers to these questions which is why I am asking
I don't have cultural ties to Hungary, but I have a layman interest in European politics and frankly, it worries and saddens me. I can't recommend Hungarian Spectrum enough for more of an in-depth look at the current situation.
As I read this, I thought about my own time living in Ukraine. Due to the Communist influence, abortion was legal and very common, though personally disapproved of. It was very interesting to live in an area where religion had almost no influence in government policy. Despite the fact that Ukraine borders Hungary, it seems that Hungary’s additional thirty years of freedom from Communism has had an impact on this attitude? (Or maybe I infer to much.)
I wonder – the Czech Republic is also highly atheistic (abortion is legal there), but Poland is still strongly religious and abortion is illegal and they were both 1989 revolutions
I thought it had to do with the gender stereotypes that live to this day and also, to the high anti-communist feeling there was in the country. I remember reading that some associated feminism with communism (and its policies promoting women’s equality), and saw it as unnatural and not aligned to their traditional (read: sexist) look on women.
Also, the average Hungarian might not be very religious either, but the current government is quite conservative and, as expected, influences society. Here’s an article that might be pertinent, and it also mentions how the new Constitution states that a fetus’ life will be protected since conception: http://hungarianspectrum.wordpress.com/2012/05/23…
I wonder – the Czech Republic is also highly atheistic (abortion is legal there), but Poland is still strongly religious and abortion is illegal and they were both 1989 revolutions
Thanks for the link!
I thought it had to do with the gender stereotypes that live to this day and also, to the high anti-communist feeling there was in the country. I remember reading that some associated feminism with communism (and its policies promoting women's equality), and saw it as unnatural and not aligned to their traditional (read: sexist) look on women.
Also, the average Hungarian might not be very religious either, but the current government is quite conservative and, as expected, influences society. Here's an article that might be pertinent, and it also mentions how the new Constitution states that a fetus' life will be protected since conception: http://hungarianspectrum.wordpress.com/2012/05/23…
yes, that is clearer and makes more sense, thanks for responding!
Hungarian medical student here 🙂
As a former Soviet-bloc country Hungary can be described as secular but strongly chauvinistic society. Which means that while abortion is completely legal and there is no visible pro-life movement, the registration of the "abortion pill" was denied with the explanation that "it would make women take abortions less seriously".
Practically any woman can have an abortion before the 12th week of pregnacy (or even later if the unborn child is diagnosed with certain genetic disroders such as Down's syndrome) and numbers show that women exercise this right since there are approximately 36 000 abortions for a total number of 84 000 live-births each year.