On the Job

It occurs to me I haven't said much about teaching recently, and I'm wondering now why that is.

To get to the root of it, I'd like to ask myself a few questions: am I trying to hide something, or feel that I cannot be honest? Do I have "better" things to write about? Do I feel my audience has little interest? Have I categorized teaching into one of those things I don't think about anymore (…going on autopilot…) and thus don't have anything enlightening to say?

Well, I suppose I should take a step back and simply state what's been happening in the world of school. In early February, we had the end of the first semster, a week off (Austrians will take any excuse for time off : woohoo!), and then came back to a new semester, and a slightly new teaching schedule. I haven't been the most satisfied, and that's why I feel I need to ask myself these questions.

Because the real question is whether I want to make a profession out of teaching? I'm still on the fence. Now more than ever, since I've had two years in the "business." It seems a little stifling...by that I mean the material isn't very challenging, the expectations are not as high as they could be - for me or my students. However, I have little autonomy in the classroom, especially this year. I guess I should keep in mind that, if/when I become a "real" teacher, rather than just an assistant, i.e. live-action dictionary, I will be able to set my own rules, curriculum, etc., at least more so than currently.

I've been thinking very seriously about becoming TEFL certified, to teach English abroad. I met a few English teachers abroad this summer, and they all had positive things to say about their experiences. I'll be honest, I'm a little afraid of being let loose in a classroom full of kids whose native language is not English, especially if I don't know their native language, either. If I did take an online course to become TEFL certified, I could even stay in Austria. I haven't yet made up my mind whether I'd like that or not.

The biggest uproar in the Austrian school system is the new Zentralmatura, which is the new, centralized government school-leaving exam for Austrian secondary students. All students who are now in the sixth year at Gymnasium (roughly American Sophomores) will have to take the centralized state test. There’s been lots of “debate” (whining) about it at school, from my colleagues.

The difference between the Zentralmatura and the traditional Matura (similar to the German Abitur) from which they’re transitioning is basically the difference between the American ACT and a high school final exam a teacher creates at the end of the year. Although the Matura is farther reaching than either an ACT or a final exam, basically teachers have had the right (and autonomy) to put whatever they wanted on their exams for their students, i.e. testing them on exactly what they’ve been taught. 


The Matura typically includes a German comprehension portion, a Math and Science portion, and a foreign language portion (either written or oral) in English – the most popular – or another living language, typically French, Spanish, Italian or Russian. The teachers are complaining that the new Zentralmatura is killing their classes. They have to teach twice as much, with half the preparation time. That is, they have to teach what they've always been teaching in school, plus the addenda of multiple choice/standardization/teaching to the test. I get it. I would complain, too!

All of the explanations I’ve gotten for the transition to a centralized state test have not sufficed in my opinion. It seems like a big fat mistake and a hollow attempt to copycat the American secondary system, which is completely broken! Come on, people. If you’re going to change your system, at least get a good, viable role model, not a crappy, broken-down one. I thought everyone knew the ACT/SAT stuff was just a load of graft set up by the Princeton Review – forcing unsuspecting highschoolers to fork over money by telling them they’ll never get into college if they don’t take one of these tests. Maybe this is overblown, and has nothing to do with the United States. But then again, Austria has imported Jersey Shore - (why do they always choose the bad aspects of American culture?)

The Zentralmatura is in some ways worse as a standardized test, because no one is ever forced to take the ACT. Some colleges and universities don’t require them in an application anymore (like my alma mater, in fact); but, to graduate from Gymnasium at all, let alone go to uni, you need to pass the Matura. How’s that for Schwindel, hmm? Not to mention, standardized testing is a completely foreign cultural concept anyway, which is the root of most of the complaints.

Recently, Die Presse has been running articles on the various opinions related to the Zentralmatura. Though they are in German, here is a link.

Magistratsabteilung by Any Other Name...Would Still Require Me to Take an Anger Management Course!

After visit #4 to the Magistratsabteilung and still no sign of my residency permit, I am beginning to worry. And also become angry. Yesterday was my latest "encounter".

First, I wake up bright and early to get there when the doors open at 8:30. I wait in a long line, get a number, go up to the 5th floor waiting room - it's almost become a routine - and sit and wait. This time they made me wait an hour and a half before even calling my number. I remember it being much quicker the first time...unless I'm just delusional.

Well, in the meantime between my 2nd visit where the woman told me I needed to go to Amstetten (because I was still registered as living there) and the 3rd visit where they told me they had sent my paperwork to Amtstetten (after I had already de-registered and re-registered in Vienna, which meant I had to wait until Amstetten sent back the paperwork to be able to do anything) I received a letter in the mail from the MA 35 telling me I needed to bring in my birth certificate with apostille - and German translation - and a housing contract stating where I'm living and who's renting to me, a week ago yesterday.

I immediately went to the translator on Monday to get the birth certificate translated, just like they asked in the letter. I got the translation back Thursday, and, having to fork over 150 euros for the damned thing, I was already on edge - strike #1 - considering (if I had a translation degree and/or certification) I could legally do the translation myself. And with out a #$*@ing degree, I can do it myself, but would a ministry accept it as verified?

Anyway, I got the translation back Thrusday. I already had a Mietvertrag (contract) and first thing Friday morning, I thought I would try my luck, to see if I could get by without an apostille, which I thought would be the least of my worries. Not so.

I get in, and the Mietvertrag is not valid, for some reason. I now need to prove that my host mom/landlady can "legally rent to me" which I think is completely ridiculous, and some bull the MA 35 is pulling because they don't like me, or something. I've never heard of anything like this. I emailed the Fulbright Commission, and they were not terribly helpful as of yet, but I am holding out hope. Such things have to be researched, I suppose.

On top of that (the woman telling me the contract was invalid was strike #2), they did not accept my non-apostilled original birth certificate with State of Wisconsin seal and watermark proving authenticity. Which means I have to send the birth certificate back to Wisconsin to get it authenticated, wait for the Secretary of State to send it back, and then go back to the MA 35, on top of having to get some sort of legal authorization on behalf of host mom Johanna.

Not only that, they DIDN'T NEED A TRANSLATION! Upon hearing this (strike #3), and the woman telling me this was all my problem, not hers, I blew up. She told me to stop yelling at her, and I apologized, but I didn't mean it. I would have sworn at her and called her a spineless cretin and a big fat bitch to boot, except that I have to go back at some point and actually get my Aufenthaltstitel and seeing as she may or may not have the power to grant me one at all (better to err on the side of "may"), I held my tongue, stormed out of the office, and once out of the building and on the street, I started crying. Balling my eyes out. I was so frustrated! And the woman had no right to be rude to me.

That's what upset me the most. I know this is my problem, and that they sent the letter stating I need an apostille.  But I didn't have one last year when I went to the Austrian consulate in Chicago. They sent my stuff onto Amstetten anyway. And I didn't think it would hurt anything to try, even if I got rejected and had to go back. I knew I couldn't get anything done with apostille while the birth certificate was at the translator's.

I guess that's life in the big city. Don't expect kindness, or even politeness. In Vienna vs. Amstetten, Amstetten wins in the bureaucracy department. They were actually nice to me at the Bezirkshauptmannschaft in Amstetten!

I might have tried a bribe next time, but my pockets, unfortunately, are too shallow to allow it.

Revanche! Relance!

CDG - mid bomb scare

Paris: AIEEE!

First, I get into Charles de Gaulle at 1:30 pm and figure I need to mail one of my suitcases, because I am definitely over the baggage weight  limit for a within-Europe puddle-jumper. So, expecting I will have to mail my suitcase to Amstetten, I walk over to the Austrian Airlines kiosk (after asking at 3 *other* information booths) and the guy takes one look at my bags & says that my stuff is all too big to fit on the plane & it will cost 15 euro per kilo over limit (20 kg is the limit - I have at least 50 kilo to schlepp around) so I kind of freak out & then go find the post office in CDG. I get my 23 kilo bag out to mail to Amstetten for 68 euro and then schlepp the rest of my shit back up to the area where you can get on the Metro...

My carry-on luggage

What should happen then, but the French National Guard comes storming in, big burly guys with machine guns & tell everyone to get out of the airport area and they turn off the escalators and people run around screaming (well, OK, the French don't go running around screaming, but some less obnoxious, subtle, French version of that - if only for effect), and then finally they turn everything back on, and the crowd dissipates, and then I ask some old guy smoking his 10 millionth cigarette what just happened and he's like, "bomb."

GREAT! I know they had a bomb scare earlier in CDG, like two weeks ago or something, but, seriously, what is with this? Anyway, the army dudes apparently got the whole thing figured out & once the escalators were turned back on, we were all safe once again, and I could actually get down to the trains. So, I hopped on the RER Bleu to get to Gare du Nord and got to the Woodstock Hostel. So absolutely exhausted b/c slept max. 5 hours last night. Our stupid new neighbors leave their dog out all night right outside my bedroom window to bark its fool head off. Mom has taken to spraying it in the face with water every time it barks - including in the middle of the night! It did not help last night, but perhaps after a few weeks of old-fashioned Pavlovian training, she will get somewhere. At this point, I think, Detroit-Wayne has nothing on CDG. If you don't have to go to the airport, Paris is wonderful. If all you do is sit in the airport trying to figure out how you are going to get yourself AND your overweight baggage to Vienna, Paris sucks.

So once I get to the Woodstock, I take this picture of my bed:

Oh, sweet, dear, beloved bed!

But I can't go to bed right away. It is only 4:30 and I have to wait until bed-time like Rick Steves says, so my body can adjust to the time change in a healthy way & I won't be overly harried by jet lag. So, I figure I might as well introduce myself to my roommate, who is sitting outside smoking on the patio area, and from whom I had to get the key. It's only polite to introduce myself, right?

She's sitting with two other guys, and I can tell already she's German, even though she's speaking in English. She is talking nonstop in that funny way Germans have when they are speaking in English.  But, well, still charming. At least to me. I introduce myself and at first she thinks I am French (or speaks to me in French anyway) but I figure she is talking to someone who does not know French because they had been speaking in English. There are actually 3 people at the picnic table in the patio area: Christine, the German, Rasmus the Dane and Simon, who is from New Zealand. Well, I guess that explains why they're speaking in English. I think, OK, I'll introduce myself, chat for 20 minutes, and then grab something to eat from the sushi restaurant down the street, come back and go to bed before 6. Awesome plan, right?

Well, I sit down and start chatting, and we are all having an interesting conversation. The next thing I know, the sun is setting. I think, Oh, it's getting darker earlier. It's probably around 7. Then, we chat more. Christine tells me she is an occupational therapist in Paris on her vacation. Rasmus is a student planning on becoming a Kindergarten teacher, and Simon just competed in the Settlers of Catan world championship in Germany (playing for Australia, who came in 6th place - out of 30 teams). Who'd a-thunk? So, anyway, about 10 minutes after the sun goes down, I look at my phone to see what time it is, and it is already 9:30! OMG, I think. No wonder I'm tired! Minus the 2 hours I slept on the plane (half of Clash of the Titans and then an extra 45 minutes before they served a pre-landing snack), I have been up for 30 hours. I can hardly believe it.