Unterwegs, with Guns

I have only just realized how little I have actually said about my school and my position here. My previous posts give the impression that I am simply bumming around Europe like a pretentious college graduate who pretends to know something about good cheese and wine. And photography. And that insipid platitude about finding yourself. Dear friends, the moment I utter those words, please boycott this blog. The truth is, I have a pretty good idea of who I am. I'm learning more every day and I continue to surprise myself (and bore myself, for that matter), but for the most part, I know what I want in my life.

I am working at a Gymnasium as an English teaching assistant, also known as Little American Underfoot. That's how I felt at first, anyway. My first week was about awkwardly watching classes from my little corner, smiling at children with curious, staring heads cocked to the side like my dog Luke when he watches TV. I struggled for a spot at a table in the teacher's lounge and read my book as "colleagues" raced passed me with arms full of books and notebooks. To make matters worse, the school is under renovation, so the classes didn't have set rooms and there was no plan for me. Basically, I sat there, obediently, waiting for my master to take me for a walk.

With the second week came questions and answers, usually preluded by "Sprechen Sie deutsch?" ("do you speak German?"), to which I would reply: "Nein, ich spreche kein Wort deutsch" ("No, I don't speak a word of German"). I asked the kids to give me their impressions of America. Do kids wear uniforms? Do you like McDonald's or Burger King? and from the older kids, What do I think about Obama? What do Americans think of Germans? Needless to say, some questions were harder than others--but I've led a few really excellent discussions and the kids really seem to be engaged. For the most part, it's exactly what I'd hoped for.

Of course, there's been the occasional misunderstanding. It's only natural when you're a newbie, or so most Hollywood movies tell me. It's endearing, even. But my problem is that I'm so eager to please. A miscommunication is automatically my fault, my failure to understand. Forgive me, I am just the lowly TA, I know not what I do. Then, after a long walk home, I'll cut myself a break and pledge to not react as a victim. I'm capable and competent, and I'll teach these kids something yet.

I love helping students. I love when they call my name to ask for the right word or inquire about the United States. I love to watch the wheels turning in their heads as they put the pieces together. I love their enthusiasm. I also enjoy crushing stereotypes about my country.

-"How many guns do you think my family has?"

-"How many people are in your family?"

-"Four."

-"Then your family must have four guns."

-"Would you believe that my family actually owns zero guns. zip. zilch. keine."

-"...interesting."

Yes, this is just one example. Gun rights in the US is a popular topic and makes for a good discussion. So good, in fact, that I was requested for a second appearance on Wednesday. The textbook introduces the subject with three pictures of "typical" Americans with their guns. The first picture shows a family in their front living room, a smiling mother and father each with their own gun, a daughter who is oblivious on the internet, and a fluffy dog. The second picture is a scary guy with a Tshirt that reads something like "faith in government denies both history and reason." No smile on his face. The last picture is a family of four on what appears to be your average Saturday afternoon. They are barefoot in the kitchen, each with his own gun, and again--a cute dog with his tongue hanging out. Probably salivating over the sheer power in the room.

As most of you know, I am one of the last people to argue on the side of "gun rights." Guns scare me and I have never held one. I don't understand why people think a law allowing people to bring their guns into bars actually makes the place safer. Not everyone should be Clint Eastwood. But this is not the Andell's America that I grew up in. It's hard to stand there and hear these stereotypes about my homeland, but I get satisfaction by been an exception to their so-called rule. Despite the rise of the Tea Party and manipulative, money-driven cable news/entertainment, I still love my country and I am determined to help make it better.

Sorry about the tangent, especially to those who have already heard my little rant (Thanks Mom, Dad, Evan). Bottom line is: I really love my job here, and I'm excited to see what the year brings.