The fall of the Soviet state had unintended consequences…for bears.

The study of language is also the study of culture. Language shapes, and informs the cultural identity of a people at the most very basic level. When we choose to take on the task of learning another person’s language the cultural education is not far behind. Since making those first cautious contacts in April of 2008 I was almost immediately exposed to people who were in fact not the scary, single minded, residents of the Evil Empire I was warned about in my youth but a warm, generous people who were almost immediately ready to teach me the language but also eager to start my “cultural education” as well. In retrospect this was really their only choice as my written Russian was a disaster and my spoken Russian was nonexistent.
And so they shared what they had, which speaks to the generosity of the Russian character: music, food, history, and literature. By the end of May I had been introduced to the amazing world of Russian rock and pop music, salted cucumbers, literature beyond Pushkin, and perhaps more than I needed to know about the rituals of Soviet cosmonauts. By the end of the summer I had made my first two failed attempts at making Uzbek pilaf, learned about what was involved in becoming a member of the Communist party, Lermontov and Gogol, and by that time had fallen in love with the music of the band DDT. In the fall I was starting to feel confident in speaking and writing but still struggling. I was meeting, writing to and speaking with a growing and diverse group of native speakers. Then as the winter and holiday season approached, they began to mess with me.
Ok ONE guy began to mess with me.
It was early December, and I was working online while my family was organizing the Christmas decorations. I love the holidays but my genetic instinct leans toward an argument over the broken lights and missing shepherd, so I let my husband who is much calmer over such tragedies manage this part of the work for Christmas. I would enjoy the soft glow later. For now I was chatting on Skype with Sasha in eastern Ukraine.
“What are you doing today?”
“Today we are decorating for Christmas.”
“WOW so early.” (The big holiday for Russians is New Years, while the religious holiday follows on January 6th.)
“Remember, for us Christmas is December 25th.”
“How do you get your fir?”
“??”
“You know since the fall of the Soviet Union we have had a real problem, with unemployed bears.”
“Bears?”
“Yes you know the trained bears in the famous Russian circus.”
“The ones that drive cars and do other tricks?” I had remembered a story Mila, my Russian teacher had told me about once witnessing a bear that had escaped from a circus in Moscow. The bear had hijacked a car and driven quite far down one of the main boulevards in Moscow before stopping for a red light and being tranquilized by the police.
“Yes, those exact bears. Now they have no jobs, and because they are so highly trained they cannot be released into the forest.”
“Interesting, so what do they do?”
“They have a new job, here in Ukraine they will deliver your fir tree.”
“NO WAY!!! REALLY??”
“Of course, we call the man who has the bear and he comes over to our place and the bear brings us our fir.”
“That is amazing!”
“That’s not all, for a little extra money the bear will place decorations on the fir.”
“Is it dangerous?”
“Not usually. But we have to remain quiet and still, no pictures. You don’t want to startle the bear, even one trained this well.”
“So you don’t have any pictures?”
“No”
“Do they have a website?”
“No, these are humble worker bears. They work, they are not celebrities.”
“hmmmm…so you don’t have a picture of a bear. Do they do this in Moscow?”
“You can ask your Moscow friends but I don’t think so.”
“Tashkent?”
“There are no bears in Tashkent, it’s too hot. Bears like a real Russian winter.”
“hmmm so only in Ukraine?”
“Only eastern Ukraine. You remember that here we are very proud of being Russian. These bears are our heritage.”
“Hmmmm”
“You don’t have animals to deliver firs in America?”
“No.”
“That is very strange, it seems some rich American should have thought of this great idea!”
“Hmmmm”
Then there was a long pause in the conversation. In the Skype window his wife, my friend Irina came online.
“Has Sasha been telling you about the bears?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t believe him do you?”
Sadly, I did. I really liked the idea of these “retired” circus bears delivering trees. I was disappointed that the image of a bear wearing a hat and vest bringing fir trees to the citizens of Ukraine. Part of the cultural education is also collecting good stories, this one along with my knowledge of cosmonaut rituals, are my favorites. And now every year around the holidays, I tell my eleventh grade students this story. Very convincingly I might add. I told it this past Friday and now I am just waiting to see how long it takes them to figure it out.
Oh and I will be staying home on January 14th, March 8th, April 12th and June 12th. It is after all, part of my cultural education.

Now all I need is a dolphin…and a monkey

One of my favorite comedians is Eddie Izzard. I discovered him a few years ago and after watching only one standup show I was hooked. I find his comedy intelligent and thought provoking. For example to explain why the Anglican Church never was able to hold an inquisition because their idea of torture is "You will have cake with the vicar or death." "Well then…cake please!" Cake or death! This is still a huge joke in my house. But the parts of his routine that really makes me laugh until I cry are his thoughts on learning languages. (Also his thoughts on why invading Russia in the winter is a bad idea e.g. Napoleon…and then Hitler. Part of the failure was that Hitler never played Risk as a child.) They are funny anyway but if you are struggling to learn a language they are hysterical.

In the show "Definite Article" he talks about learning French and how every textbook seem to have the example: La souris est sous la table, le chat est sur la chaise et le singe est dans l'arbre.(The mouse is under the table, the cat is on the chair, and the monkey is in the tree.) The first two as he says are pretty easy to work into a conversation the third not so much. Learning a language is full of this kind of stuff. For the first year I think I tested the patience of some Russian speakers with my relentless sentences about dogs. Everything was about a dog.

And let's face it, who has not come across some sentence and thought, "when the heck am I going to use that!" But here are a few that will be challenge to work into any conversation: Many of them you will notice involve sea creatures.

Моржи объединились и поплыли – The walruses joined together and swam off.

Акула позавтракала спортсменом – The shark breakfasted on the athlete.

Самый высокий человек в мире спас дельфинов- The tallest man in the world saved the dolphin.

Медведь пососал лапу, заснул и проспал всю зиму.- The bear sucked it's paw, fell asleep, and slept the entire winter.

But then there are some that I would love to use:

Зачем меня на части рвете!- Why are you tearing me to pieces!

На раздевайте манекен.- Don't undress the mannequin

Я в музыке моей к тебе стремлюсь – In my music I long for you.

Это молчание я характеризую как вранье. – I characterize this silence as lying.

Укажи мне дорогу в тбое сердце- Point me the way to your heart.

And then a few I hope I will never need.

И тогда он схватился за топор. – And then he grabbed for an axe.

После концерта были зарезаны двое молодых людей. – After the concert, two young males were stabbed.

Ему выстрелили в лицо- He was shot in the face.

Избежит ли он казни? – Will he escape execution?

Language is fun…and now I feel prepared for just about any situation.

You’ll shoot your eye out!

I am very lucky to live in the Northeast corner of the United States. This region has everything. Mountains if you like mountains, beaches if you like beaches. We have all four seasons in all their glory. And the most glorious is the fall. The foliage here is unique and according to one of my coworkers who teaches biology, only here and some place in China puts on such a display, such an explosion of color. This fall has been one of the best. Driving to work in the morning I have been amazed at the brightness of the leaves. The golds were more gold, the reds deep rich and almost purple. Even now that we are past peak the leaves cannot be described as brown they seem to be holding on to hints of their former glory as they meet their decline. This fall has been a rich reward for the hot summer and lack of rain.

Fall for me is a time of adjustment, like the leaves struggling to change, hoping to impress and ultimate becoming a nuisance. We do after all, have to rake up all that gorgeous color when age and gravity overtakes them and their fate lays at me feet. I made that sound poetic but raking leaves is hardly a poetic activity. In reality the foliage is all I have time to enjoy this time of year. The first quarter of the school year is a mad rush of activity. If it was only the courses and grading that would be enough, but there is so much else that goes on during this time of year. Being a private school we have to hold recruitment Open Houses, usually on a Sunday afternoon. There are school trips, assemblies, professional days, liturgies and prayer services, shadow days for perspective students, PSAT/ PLAN testing, letters of recommendation to write, sporting events to attend. This first quarter will end this week with the fall pep rally on Friday and another Open House on Sunday. Oh and grades close this week and are due next Wednesday.

And that is just my job…the one I am paid for…I have the whole home life to take care of also. Which this fall has been blessed with a broken dishwasher (fixed) and a broken oven (condemned by the gas company) and a husband who drags me out of bed to gym four mornings a week at 5:00am…and he SINGS while doing it.

Can't a girl catch a break and get some studying done?

I am still attending my Russian class twice a month. I love this little island of language. Thankfully we are at the immersion stage, sort of, about 80% of the conversation is in Russian. And sometimes it does slide into what one of my students (in describing her Spanish class) referred to as "Life lessons with a side of Russian." In many ways I a treading water, and many times over the past few weeks I have really questioned why I am continuing. When I do write in Russian I still feel like I am making so many mistakes, sometimes stupid ones so the whole task of learning and reaching my goal seems impossible. Doubt creeps in and begins to take over. And worse I hear the voices saying "Who do you even think you are to do this?" Actually those are not voices in my head; those are real voices from Russians who do not know me as well now suggesting that I am on a fool's errand. If this is only as far as you are after 3 years maybe this is not for you.

Then I had the dream I was sitting in my high school guidance counselor's office. I had just finished telling him my life plan. How I was going to travel to Russia, Uzbekistan maybe even Ukraine and work as an ethnographer and write books about people's lives, and maybe a book or two about my experience doing research in the former Soviet Union. The life of a researcher and writer my enthusiasm cannot be contained! He looks at me sternly from across the desk: "You'll shoot your eye out." I woke up with the very real fear I had become Ralphie.

(for my Russian friends: Это известный и смешной американский рождественский фильм. )

And why do I even think I could or should do this anyway? I struggle with this all the time. Is this a hobby? Is this an interest? If that is all it is if it is; no more than stamp collecting, (not that there is anything wrong with that) why does the study of this language, at the heart of it, seem to speak to a deep longing, a hope of future fulfillment, and maybe a key to something new? If all this were true why then do I feel so stupid for even thinking about this as a possibility? Maybe I should be comfortable and just say- It is what it is, it is a hobby nothing more. Slow down and give yourself a break. But somehow this would be a denial about a very real truth that I can feel is happening as a result of this "simple language study".

I remember another dream told to me when I was taking Hebrew in graduate school. Professor Carole Fontaine told us this story about a dream she had when she was studying Hebrew at Duke University. She had this dream that she had a set of keys shaped like letters of the Hebrew alphabet and a huge hallway of doors. I had a dream like this early one which I think I have mentioned. One was that I was on a train from Moscow to Kiev and was struggling with a crossword puzzle in Russian. I was not allowed to get off the train until I completed it. In the second dream I had landed myself in a jail in Tashkent. All I had to do was decline 10 feminine nouns and I would be released. When my friend arrived at the police station and was told what I had to do to win my release he sat down and said "I can wait, she can do it."

Dreams are very interesting. My ethics students just finished watching the film "Raising Arizona"; an excellent depiction of the conflict and compromise between Kant's Categorical Imperative and Mill's Utilitarianism. At the end of the film the main character H.I. McDonough has a dream about all the people in his life and a reflection on the adventure he has just been on. He is at in many ways a crossroads in his life, he may wake up and the marriage will be over because stealing a baby from a family, even one that may have "more than they can handle" takes a toll on a relationship. At the end he dreams about him and his wife. He sees an old couple being visited by their children and grandchildren. He says a lot in this passage but then he questions: "And I don't know. You tell me. This whole dream, was it wishful thinking? Was I just fleeing reality like I know I'm liable to do? ..It seemed real, it seemed like us." When I wake up from a dream when I have had an argument with my high school guidance counselor or get lost in a Moscow library, or any number of dreams I have had with language study as a central theme I feel like H.I "It seemed real, it seemed like me."

So which is it? Is this some interesting side trip or something more? Am I going to shoot my eye out? Am I fleeing reality? Is this wishful thinking? Either way I need to find a better way to carve out time to do the work I need to do to find out. There are no magic bullets, secret strategies or tricks for me in the process. I can find times to study and I can find people to practice with. I am lucky that my family does not see this as "that crazy thing my mom does" but as "that cool thing my mom does." What I wish I could let go of is the fear that surrounds this process. Fear of the unknown, fear of failure. Fear that I really will shoot my eye out and that all of this is a vain illusion.

(To be continued)

Учебники....

I remember when my comrade and I bonded…

I was looking at his profile on Live Mocha, which for the uninitiated is a language learning website with lesson modules and for the most part people who are more intentional about language learning, I noticed this very interesting little factoid; we were both using the same textbook. What were the chances! The text was called Тройка and was written by Marita Nummokoski. I have often called this a very sturdy text as I have often thrown it across the room in frustration. The search for a good textbook is almost as important as a finding a good teacher. It has to be a good fit and both the teacher and you will know when it is time to move on.

I have some affection for this textbook for two reasons. It was my first book and it brought me to my Midwestern comrade. There is something to be said for the first reason. I was so happy when this book arrived and I could actually start really learning to speak and write in Russian. As some of my tutors can attest those early days were dark ones indeed. On the one hand it was helpful to have actual exercises, lessons and reading. On the other…there were actual exercises, lessons and readings. Let's just say it was a pretty steep learning curve and there are some people in the Russian speaking world who are in my mind, saints for putting up with me.

The book remains true to its subtitle: A communicative approach to Russian language, life and culture. Each chapter is broken up into three sections: Themes- Culture- Structures. The grammar is explained in understandable terms and there is very helpful cultural information also. For example this text provided useful information on how and why one should buy a samovar and what activities to engage in at your Russian friend's dacha, Moscow airports, Wedding ceremonies and traditions and how to name your Russian child if your course in Russian study led you to such a situation. In one of my first "reading" exercises on Moscow it mentioned a certain hotel and café that no longer exists post 1989.

Grammatically it led the non native speaker through noun cases in what seems to be agreed upon as the best way to teach English speaking capitalists; Nominative, prepositional, accusative, genitive dative and finally instrumental. Verb conjugations, adjectives, personal pronouns were dealt with in a way that was eventually understandable. That being said both my comrade and I only made it through 11 chapters in this text before we felt the need to move on or (in my case) we moved on at the suggestion of our teachers.

My current textbook is titled unceremoniously as Russian Grammar and was written by Galina and Leon Stillman with William Harkins. This text was also written for English speakers but unlike the Nummoski text, this one deals specifically with what I have determined to be one of my biggest problems in learning Russian: SYNTAX. (My Russian friends are more than welcome to weigh in with comments as to what they think my biggest problem is.) And while I like and respect Тройка I am in love with this text. (I remarked to Mila, my Russian teacher that I even like the smell of this book. Don't judge me, if you are a bibliophile you smell your books also.) The book was written in 1972 and seems to give me some indication about what it might have been like to study grammar in the Soviet Union. It is strict and tight and does not mess around.

Here is what I find interesting in comparing these books. In Тройка the exercises are constructed in such a way that it teaches the Russian student how to talk to Russians about their lives. So after learning how to use direct objects you can ask your Russian friends about what music they listen to, movies they like to watch, and sports that they like to play. Interestingly, this particular chapter teaches you to do this using the verb любить (to love) so in conversation you had better really like soccer. I think even now my Russian friends just think I LOVE everything because I have not really bothered to learn the verb нравиться (to like). Therefore, the examples in the grammar practice go something like this: What does Ivan like (love) to do in his free time? Ivan loves to listen to Russian music. What did you do at the dacha on Saturday? We gathered mushrooms and berries in the forest. We love to gather mushroom and berries!

Compare that to the examples in Russian Grammar: What will Ivan do on Saturday? He will play volleyball, he plays every Saturday. Ivan should work more. What kind of music does Anna listen to? Anna listens to classical music while she reads Russian literature. Nina, what are you saying? You should not speak so much you talk too often.

You get the idea. In the Stillman's world no one is gathering mushrooms. People do not love music, the listen to it. It is a very functional world. I LOVE IT! The best feature of this textbook is that after each grammar lesson in the chapter it has "pattern sentences" with the grammar you just learned highlighted. Everything is explained without complication. The only lesson I had some trouble with was a highly detailed explanation of reflexive pronouns. With the Stillman text I was able to learn with alacrity the rest of my noun cases, I feel more in control and confident when I speak and write in Russian because I have taken the time with the drills in this text. I have increased the amount of time I can "sustain" a conversation in Russian. The Stillman text also introduced some valuable concepts like how to say "I must" and "I should" and even though while practicing with this construction led one Russian friend to accuse me of "becoming suddenly demanding", I enjoyed being able to be demanding.

I have found a happy match with my new textbook. However, it would be unfair to say the first one was a waste of time or not helpful. It got me started and served its purpose. I confirmed this a few weeks ago when I had misplaced my new book and decided to use the same grammar lesson in the old textbook. I wrote out my exercises and sent it to a friend. The return email had a confused tone to it. My friend could not understand why I was writing like this, the syntax was not quite correct and also responded with a terse "I thought you understood this declension? What happened?" I located my new "friend" the next day and got back to learning how to chastise Ivan for playing too much volleyball. Stillman is right, he should work more!

 

Brighton Beach NYC/ Какой хороший день

Last weekend I was in New York and spent Sunday in Brooklyn, specifically Brighton Beach. This small Brooklyn neighborhood has become quite the Russian enclave over the past 20 years. The story is that Russians settled here because the ocean reminded them of the Black Sea. I had dragged my family on the last day of our New York getaway down to see one of my favorite Russian tutors/friends, Tatiana and to finally meet my comrade from the middle of the country. It was a glorious day. The weather was perfect. We met at the High St. subway station in Brooklyn and then took in the views of New York from the Brooklyn Bridge walkway. After that we took the subway all the way down to Brighton Beach. We had lunch right on the boardwalk and heard Russian everywhere. Towards the end of our meal we were joined by Misha, Tatiana's husband. After lunch we walked off the food and the vodka and visited St. Petersburg Trade House, a large Russian bookstore. (Link added below) I resisted the urge to by a copy of Dostoyevsky in Russian, my daughter was busy looking for cd's of her favorite Russian groups, (yes, my daughter listens to Russian pop music especially the groups Ин-ян, БиС and the Russian-Uzbek singer Sogdiana) my husband wandered around unsure what to do with himself but admiring the chess sets. My comrade was looking for his own books. I ended up buying one book and one Russian film (Иван Васильевич меняет профессию) at the advice of Misha which was seconded by another Russian man who overheard us. I happen to love these old Russian comedies so was glad to add another to my collection.

While my boys were completely bored in the bookstore my youngest had $10.00 burning a hole in his pocket. It was money he had earned doing jobs over the summer and he had one thing he was looking for. Russian chocolate candy. Tatiana was brilliant helping him out and even though it was different than the kinds we get at the little Russian grocery in Brookline, I am happy to report he has a few new favorites. My oldest son and my comrade bonded over some poppy seed filled pastry which mistakenly they thought were filled with chocolate. When we passed another smaller grocery my youngest saw they were selling "Russian melons" and I had to remind him it was about an hour subway ride back to Manhattan and then the bus to New Jersey and it was a pretty good size melon. I was not going to carry it. My youngest can be a little dramatic and answered "FINE! I am going to buy so many melons when I go to Uzbekistan and you can't stop me!" Back on the subway platform and headed home, after last photos, big hugs and bigger thanks I had a small victory. A woman came up to us asking (in Russian) about the train. Without even thinking I answered her in Russian. My comrade complimented me on my accent and yes I have worked very hard on that, but to be fair he has more vocabulary and has been to Russia. So, he wins in my book.

Brighton Beach is not a big area and I think Tatiana and Misha were a little confused as to why we wanted to go. And maybe it's not that big a deal, maybe it would be like Tatiana and Misha coming to my town and taking them on a tour of the Mall. To my comrade and me it was interesting. It was a very safe immersion experience. We could read and speak and listen to Russian but then return to the English speaking world. On the subway on the way back to Manhattan we talked about how interesting it was to hear so much Russian being spoken and seeing Russian people from all over the Russian speaking world. There were children in the playground shouting «Поехали!», women from somewhere in Central Asia wearing beautiful headscarves shopping with round faced children in tow, teens and young people walking up the street to see and be seen, and shopkeepers who spoke only Russian. My comrade and I think that renting an apartment (near the beach of course) and living down there for a summer would really help improve out Russian. Hmmm now there's an idea; a brownstone dacha.

Learn your grammar and greet the world with a smile!…part 2

Ok, where was I… ?

Summer does this to me, especially the end of summer. As a teacher I am wallowing in the malaise of August, waking each morning confronted with the reality of what I should do versus what I want to do. I want to work on grammar and reading exercises, I should work on lesson plans and course syllabi for the fall. In the face of such decisions I go to the gym and clean my house. This is not say I have not been thinking about this blog post. I have been thinking about it often.

My students, (and sometimes their parents) ask me why they need to care about good grammar for my class. After all, I teach theology, not English. My inner Sunday school teacher would love to answer "because God expects you to speak correctly" (I am deeply disappointed proper grammar was not one of the Ten Commandments). What I calmly tell them is that while I will not grade them as strictly as their English teachers, I expect them to use proper grammar in their writing and (if possible) when they speak in class. Being articulate is a life skill. Being articulate helps you to think both about what you think and what you are going to say about what you think. If you can demonstrate you are well spoken you are an asset to an employer. If you can speak well and write well even better. No employer wants to spend time teaching you how to write and speak, that is my job.

Grammar is like brushing your teeth. You can put it off and busy yourself with other things but at some point you need to leave the house or will just be so disgusted by the feeling that your mouth has knit tiny sweaters on your teeth you will brush, and rinse and brush again until you feel like you can face civilization. To pull this metaphor out a bit more, at some point you will go to the dentist and you will either leave with nothing more than a feeling of satisfaction and a new appointment in six months OR you and the receptionist will be making another appointment to fill the cavities, repair the gums or some other unpleasant procedure. We hate the dentist but we go. We hate grammar but we need it.

Now, what about learning correct grammar in your target language? Well I guess that is up to you. How intelligent do you want to sound when you speak with native speakers? Are you content with "getting by"? Do you want to have deeper and more meaningful conversations with people? Do you want to learn about the culture beyond a tour guide? Do you want to sound like an adult? That is the real question. I am not trying to sound sarcastic or preachy. I am serious. If you are an adult and trying to deeply learn another language, you certainly don't want to sound like a child. Now this is not to say you won't sound like one for awhile.

This has been my recent struggle because I want to say things in Russian the same way I think them in English, but I can't. So I have a choice. I either ramble on in Russian making no sense or I say what I want to say in the simplest of constructions. My Russian teacher calls them "small bites". "Speak in small bites, but speak correctly, learn the patterns and then bit by bit you can add to your sentences." This is good advice. If you ask any of the people I try to speak Russian with they will tell you when I try to take too big a bite, I choke, dramatically. I also fully confess to those of you I speak to most often, you know who you are, that I also have recently begun to speak faster thinking you won't notice my mistakes. We both know I am not fooling anyone.

The other mistake people make when they learn a new language is a little something called "transference". It means you basically speak the target language with the same syntax as your native language. So Russians learning English will carefully sidestep articles (the, an, a) thinking I won't catch them. I do. English speakers learning Russian will use the participle быть with ANY verb thinking it will make it future tense. It won't. The bottom line is you cannot make the language follow your rules. You need to follow its rules and to do that you must understand your own. It goes back to what my graduate professor said to me. "If you don't know what a preposition is and how it functions in English you won't know how it works in Hebrew." You have to grasp how the target language works. Personally I think case and aspect are a major pain. However, once I submitted to the rule, to the discipline I could learn it.

I understand the resistance to this. It's like basic math. We should know this but we may not, and maybe we feel stupid that we don't. I was at the doctor's office today with my oldest son who is 13 years old. He was measured at 71 inches. He wanted to know how close he was to being taller than his father who is 6'4". The nurse told him to figure it out. She looked at me like I already knew the answer to this question. (I didn't, there is a reason I am studying Russian and not calculus.) I helped him think through the problem. "How many times does 12 go into 71…12 times five is what?" "60!" "Ok so 12 times 6 is?" "72!" "So you are how tall?" "5 feet 9inches."* Should I have known this? Of course, but I have kids who are really good at math as well as being giants.

Grammar is the same. We feel like we should know it but we don't and the older we get the harder it is for us to admit what we don't know. The difference here is that while I can rely on my super tall brainy kids for a quick calculation when I speak with «Ты или Вы» I have to tell you what I am thinking so if I don't know I have to ask, but I also have to do the work on my end. I have to study my case endings, my verb conjugations, my prepositions, my pronouns, my vocabulary. Then I have to try to use it. I love to try my new "Russian skills" out on my friends. Sometimes success when I learned how to use должен, должна, должны – must. As in: As in: Ты должен говорить по-английски со мной.Of course there were some epic failures, like when I tried to use the verb посылать. However, I know it now and I must say I will NEVER use it without a dative case pronoun EVER!

This works the other way too. If you are older you have the perspective of time, you can admit what you don't know with a grand wisdom. I personally have a lot of respect for someone who admits they do not know or does not understand something. Especially in the swimming pool of language learning, especially if you are working as I am with native speakers. It works best when we swim together and help each other out, without pretending we know something we clearly don't. We laugh at each other's stupid mistakes but if someone truly does not understand something a compassionate explanation goes a long way.

Learn the grammar, your own and that of your target language. By taking the time to learn the grammar you can confidently face the world as an articulate, educated person. In our hearts, the goal is for a native speaker to tell us "Your__________ is amazing! How is this not your native language?"

It is world peace through grammar.

*Apologies to those of you who use the metric system…when you meet my son just say «АГА!!»

UF! My math IS ужасный!! It seems my son is 5'11". In my defense (as I commented below) the nurse told him he was correct when he answered 5'9" I think it has been a long day for everyone.

Вы должны изучить грамматику!/ You must study your grammar! Part 1

I can remember when I first diagramed a sentence. I was in 4^th grade. I remember the grammar book, it was small like the size of a paperback novel. It had a greenish cover and was published in 1960 something. I remember it because in my opinion it seemed strange to have such an old book small book text. I can even remember how comfortably it fit in my hand. In 1978, I sat in a hot classroom one spring afternoon and learned how to diagram a sentence. Our teacher described it as driving each part of speech into its parking space. We were supposed to learn about structure; subject, predicate, linking words, verbs prepositions, objects both direct and indirect. It was the ONLY formal lesson in English grammar I would have in school. The rest of my English education was in literature and creative writing.

Why? It was the 1970's a time of new educational theories some perhaps helpful some not. My math classes embraced "new math". I am still not sure what this is. I seemed to do as poorly in the "new math" as the old. We tried to learn the metric system because we were told, like the killer bees bred in Mexico and now which were attacking Texas; we would all be overtaken by this system. If were to function in the late 20^th century we needed to know the metric system. "Look, even Canada has metric!" Mrs. Cohelo my 5^th grade math teacher informed us one day. My father was opposed to this on principle. He saw the metric system as a communist plot to take over our way of life. When driving in Canada he would complain about the kilometer markings "I have NO idea where I am or how far I have to go! This is insanity!" In my father's defense he was a very progressive left leaning guy who would have enjoyed this little adventure of mine. My father was instead easily set off by things that he did not readily understand. If the remote to the TV was lost it was a plot. Nothing against Canada but they do speak French and have universal health care. Just saying…

But back to grammar:

I think the theory for not teaching formal grammar went something like this: The children need to be free to write and express themselves. The more they do this the more they will learn proper grammar. Or it was just about us expressing ourselves, to heck with grammar. Now that I think about it, let's go with the latter. I don't know why this was the way it was taught I just know that while my generation can sing the preamble to the constitution, know that 3 is a magic number, and a noun is person, place or thing (all of which we learned from Schoolhouse Rock in between our cartoons on Saturday morning.) we do not in general, do not know our grammar. This was a great disservice as I will illustrate as we fast forward to 1991. I tell this story every year to my students as a cautionary tale of what NOT to do and why grammar and careful writing is important.

In 1991 I was engrossed in a graduate program in theology at a school in the Boston area. (Yeah, that one.) I was in a class with a much respected professor and scholar in the book of Jeremiah. (Yeah, that guy!) My entire grade for the class consisted of two exams and a paper. I did reasonably well on the exams and so I plunged into the paper which was an exegesis on a passage from the Song of Songs. I wrote the paper and handed it in glad that my semester was now over and I had in fact survived my first year of graduate school in one piece. Then I got the call.

I was working in the school kitchen when the phone rang. Professor you- know- who was looking for me and wanted to meet with me at noon that day. I hung up the phone and looked to my older and wiser comrade and friend. "so…what is that about?" I asked him. "Well," he calmly replied in his calming yet slightly brimstone laden Tennessee drawl "Professor you-know-who is not calling to tell you he is submitting the paper to an academic journal. I bet it's the pencil grade." I had no idea what the pencil grade was. My friend did not tell me only said "OH…you'll find out. And good luck! I will find you later to see how it went." The pencil grade as I found out, a few hours later, was that Professor you-know-who had given me an "F" but it was written in pencil. I had exactly 4 days to submit a new paper or the "F" would stay.

Why after four years of a good university education had I merited a failing grade on this paper? It was explained by Professor you-know-who this way: "Ms. Mueller" (I was still Mueller then but only for a few more months) "do you want to know my theory of student research papers?" like I had a choice, I was a captive audience. "Ms. Mueller, I approach each paper as if you and I are going to spend a pleasant afternoon together. Perhaps, we are going on a picnic? Perhaps we are just going to drive someplace nice. In any case when we get there we are going to have a wonderful discussion about the topic you presented in this paper. That sounds nice…however if on the way to our picnic there are traffic accidents, dead animals, pot holes, natural disasters or it starts to rain, am I going to be interested in your ideas? Will I even want to talk about it when we get there? Or will I have become so distracted by the traffic accidents, dead animals, and natural disasters I will just want to go home. With most students we get out the driveway, down the road a way and there are some problems a little rain, a few dead raccoons, one accident maybe two. With you however, we did not make it out of the driveway." It was everything I could do to hold it together. I failed and did exactly what I promised I would not do. I cried. It was embarrassing. "Just rewrite the paper and have it in class on Tuesday." The accidents were mostly grammar errors. I had split infinitives, misplaced commas, and had spelling errors that would make Jesus himself cry. (It was part of the Sermon on the Mount "Blessed are the grammarians, for they shall be understood as they correct and lead others in the ways of righteous pronoun usage") I re wrote the paper and did reasonably well in the class. Then, like a true glutton for punishment, went on to take Hebrew with Professor you-know-who.

Ok, full disclosure. I was retaking Hebrew. I had failed it the first time. I had to take it to save my GPA. I was struggling, with the alphabet with the vowels especially. The grammar was killing me. Once in class, when I continued to misspell the same noun over and over again, Professor you-know-who said to me. "Ms. Mueller you have two fundamental problems with this language. First you seem to not believe that there is any discernable difference between a long "a" and short "a". I assure you they are different. Second, you simply do not understand the grammar in English. How on earth are you going to know what a direct object is in Hebrew if you do not know what a direct object is in English?" He was right.

While these experiences sound deeply traumatic, they were in fact great lessons. At the time I was studying for pastoral ministry. This is a very verbal profession. You speak with people, you write a sermon every week, and newsletters each month. Compassion and knowledge of theology and scripture is important but if you do not have effective skills to communicate it is going to a long road to retirement. Even though I did not go into formal ordained pastoral ministry these are important skills. This is the point I make to my students. You can have all the opinions and feelings you want, but if you cannot communicate them effectively, articulately and accurately you will be left behind. Good grammar is fundamental to this. Using good grammar is the hallmark of an intelligent and well educated person. It is in my experience fundamental if you want to study another language.

One Russian correspondent said to me, "I don't need to know grammar! Children when they learn to speak do not learn grammar." This idea that one can learn "natural speech" which is the theory behind programs like Rosetta Stone and websites like LiveMocha. There are some inherent problems with this especially for a language like Russian. This is not to say they do not have their place in the language learning repertoire. For practice they can be great resources. However, to not explain the grammar leaves the learner with the ability to say things but they do not know why you are saying them. This is particularly problematic with Russian. You have to know what a case is, in order to understand case you need to understand prepositions. If you ever want to use a verb eventually you will have to learn aspect. You then need to learn how certain verbs take certain cases. If you don't have an understanding of the grammar you continue to make the same mistakes and not really know why. In short, languages in general and Russian, in particular are built on their grammar. Without a working knowledge of the grammar you have set yourself up in an impossible and frustrating situation. So my answer to that young Russian was as follows: Yes children learn to speak naturally but then they grow up and go to school and in Russia, learn their case endings, proper aspect of verbs and pronunciation.

Of course to learn grammar in another language means you must know your own. The more you learn these concepts in your language and your target language the more proficient you will grow in both. This is true for speaking but especially for writing. This is a win/ win. Studying another language is an amazing opportunity to not only learn new skills in your target language but to increase proficiency in your own. This skill set includes all aspects of communication; speaking, writing and reading comprehension.

Learning grammar means you are "all in" you have cast your lot for better or worse with this target language and you are committed to learn it according to its rules. Remember, as the learner you are really at the mercy of the grammar anyway. It is not like you can speak Russian, Spanish, French, Greek or Japanese according to your rules. First of all no one will understand you, well they may understand you but you will not be putting your best foot forward in the target language. You must submit. Think of grammar like a more benevolent version of the Borg in Star Trek, or the Cybermen in Dr. Who. You must assimilate. Resistance is futile. Now HOW you do that…that is next week's topic.

Мат? Нет, спасибо...

You remember the guy, and in all likelihood it was a guy, who sat in class the first week of Spanish, or French with the dictionary looking up all the dirty words? For all practical purposes I suppose looking up how to say assorted obscenities would be a good test of any bilingual dictionary. It conveys a sense of completeness and also power. "With this dictionary I can say ANYTHING!" And let's face it…dirty words are fun. Nothing conveys fluency like cursing in another language. When I tell people I am learning Russian frequently I am asked, "What bad words do you know?" I respond "none." Then I get the look that conveys "Is-that-not-the point- of- learning – another-language? " One cannot ignore the pull of wanting to know obscenities in another language. This is exemplified in the words of one of my favorite songs by the Russian group "Spleen" Англо-Русский Словар (English- Russian Dictionary):

Мой поезд едет в Стамбул - это cool!

Но денег нет на обед - это bad.

Кто мне покажет стриптиз - тому kiss,

А кто покажет кулак - тому #*&%!

Давай, лама, давай,

Давай открывай свой англо-русский словарь

 

My train is going to Istanbul - this is cool!
But there is no money for lunch - this is bad.
Who will show me a striptease - to kiss,
And who will fist - to #*&%!* (censorship mine…as I will explain)
Come on, Lama, come on,

Come on and open up your English- Russian dictionary.

 

First, my apologies to any readers who were offended by the preceding example, and for those who know me in my English language existence only, I am sure you are asking yourselves "why is Elizabeth apologizing for swearing? Have you talked to her for more than 10 minutes?" I plead guilty; I am not one of those people who avoids from "colorful" language when needed. Every year for Lent my family gently suggests I should give up some of my palate of expression in favor of less crude language. In my humble opinion, I am not that bad, but I appreciate their feedback on this topic. Studying Russian has done little to limit a possible string of obscenities that may, on occasion, spill out of my face. It is not as if I am the first student of Russian to break down in a stream of obscene language out of sheer frustration with the Russian case system, verbal aspect, pronouns or syntax.

However, I know for a fact that Russian has one of the most colorful, multilayered and intricate forms of bad language in the world. That being said, after two years it is clear to me I will never learn the art of cursing in Russian.

First, I have enough trouble with "regular Russian" no need to complicate it with profanity that I might say by accident. This is a real fear of mine. To see why, refer back to my blog post about my fear of speaking Russian at all.

Second, Russian is a language that values the following things perhaps more than most other world languages: Correct pronunciation, correct spelling, correct grammar and polite speech. This has been borne out by conversations with my beloved Russian teacher Mila- "Always use polite forms until instructed to do otherwise." I once used a "casual term" in a chat conversation to which my correspondent replied "Don't use that term, the only women who speak like that are prostitutes."

Third, unless you are raised in the culture and the language you really do not have a full appreciation for the strength of the words are you using. Genevra Gerhart's The Russian's World- life and language has a great way of talking about this particular concept. She writes;

    "…the basic words that are awful, obscene, taboo and mostly unprintable in Russian. Never ever use these words. They are not cute or funny, nor will you be if you say them."

She goes on the write that these words though commonly used in English in general are stronger and carry a stronger sense for Russians than for non Russian speakers who use them. "life," she continues "sometimes requires information we don't intend to use." For me this information is generally referred to as «мат», and for now I know about them but do not use them.

Another reason I have discovered seems related to my gender. This seems to extend to slang as well as obscenities. Because I generally work with men, it is simply not appropriate for me to use impolite, obscene or rude language with them. As far as my women friends are concerned I would honestly be too embarrassed to even ask them about these words for fear of offending. (Although, at least one has offered to give me a lesson in slang and «мат» when her family is not home.) I have no problem with this rule even though in my English speaking life I can certainly hold my own with men. But in my Russian speaking life I understand this is not appropriate. A few months ago I was speaking with another English speaker who is learning Russian and he was regaling me with a story about all the interesting slang he was learning from a Russian friend. I was a little jealous, however, I am secretly grateful that I am learning not only proper grammar and pronunciation but also to be well spoken. I do not begrudge my friend for being able to move in areas of the language I cannot. Идёт жизнь- So goes life. I don't make the rules and for now see no reason to break them. Perhaps some evening in Moscow over a long table conversation I will be let into this secret male society of slang and profanity. To be honest, I am fine with knowing about мат but not speaking it. Or as Chris remarked to me "I am grateful that you will be a perfect well spoken lady in at least one language, even if I have NO idea what you are saying."

 

 

 

Summer: Лето

Ah summer! A time of rest, reflection, and gratitude to be in the teaching profession. When I was younger summer meant waking up at 10:00am, packing a backpack and biking over to my friend Kristin's house and from there the local park for a day of swimming, reading and the hope of finding a boyfriend. I am amazed to think of how many books I read that summer!

I live in a family of list makers. My husband is the worst. On Saturdays during the school year it is my intention to have a big cup of coffee while reading the paper, watching birds at the birdfeeder, engaging various family members in conversation about life. My husband on the other hand is up making lists, completing the list and pushing me to add things to the list. At the brink of divorce one morning I calmly said to him "But HONEY, I get up every morning, and rush out of here to get to work. On Saturday I want to ease into my morning." He looked at me with a loving understanding look. And then said "Ok but while you are doing that can you make a shopping list and let me know what else you want me to do?" He then continued to buzz around the house attending to his list. Each time he passed by the table (where I was still sitting, reading the paper, watching birds, and drinking now my second cup of coffee and trying to ignore him) he gave me a look which could only be understood as "Wow you are STILL sitting there!"

To me summer is 6-8 weeks of Saturdays. Thankfully, my husband goes to work during the week so I can do what I want and escape his glares and lists. But secretly I am a list maker also. In fact, I love lists and make them all the time. The difference is my list has to do with me, whereas my husband's list usually concerns the greater good of the family unit. My lists can get pretty complex with multiple categories. In my opinion I am much better at making lists than Chris. I can make lists in my head. But the important ones I need to write down. So here is my "list" of Russian language intentions for the summer. Now if I can find my friends…summer tends to lure them away from their computers and out to their dachas. Not that I can blame them, if I had a dacha I would be there as often as possible. Then again if I had a dacha I would be in Russia, speaking Russian at my Russian dacha. – Мне кажется, если бы у меня была дача, я была бы в России и говорила бы по-русски на моей русской даче.

Need to learn

Cases

    Dative

    Instrumental

    Plurals in all cases

Verbs

    Continue to work on aspect (and aspect pairs)

    Motion verbs (in sets/pairs)

    Reflexive verbs

Adjectives

    Cases

    Demonstrative

Reflexive pronouns

Adverbs (ongoing)

NUMBERS!!!!!

 

Things I should know but don't, or worse, seem to forget- A LOT!

    Declination of names (especially my friends) L

    Adverbs

    Negatives

    Comparative adjectives

    3^rd person pl verb forms (not sure why this does not stick)

    Describing time (long ago, ten years ago….etc)

Word list

Obvious words I continue to forget, essential words I should know by now…

    Possessive pronouns

 

Last but not least- check the market for a prospective dacha.

Сожаление или судьба: Regret or fate

It is really so stupid. I meet someone who traveled to Moscow in the 1980's. I hear a story on the radio or in the paper about someone who spent their young lives traveling to various places in Central Asia. I sit and think too long about how maybe I should have studied Russian literature and spent some time in Leningrad when it was still Leningrad. It is an uncomfortable feeling, a stinging cocktail, a mix of regret and jealously. But then again I regret a lot of things these days. Regret hangs over me sometimes like a bad metaphor. Everyone has regrets and if they don't they are lying. No one's life is perfect everyone has missed opportunities, moments where they could have gone in different direction, compromises made for comfort, the safe choices. When you are older and braver one cannot help but reflect on one's personal history with a tinge of regret.

I have three reasons to be reflecting on regret this week. First, the school year ended and after the difficult year this has been, of course regret is part of mental landscape. Second, I am heading down to Connecticut this weekend for my high school class reunion. While excited to see everyone and eager to travel around town taking the photos I have wanted to take for years, there is a piece of me that worries over things like measures of status and success. I worry about how my life stacks up next to those of my classmates. Third, it's my birthday on Monday. This always makes me reflect on my life. It's another year I have lived and I give myself a little check up to see how am I doing. This is one of those years with a little extra reflection perhaps. Life can be tragically short and everyone wants their life to have meaning and purpose.

While regret is something one can to some extent fend off by staying true to ones goals, purposes, vocation and remaining self aware; fate is something else altogether. Sometimes our lives are ruled more by this than by anything else. We do not control the universe after all. Events, people situations all come into our lives at certain times sometimes we are not prepared for this and the consequences can be difficult, we can be unprepared for the challenge or let fear rule our hearts and miss the opportunity fate presents us. There is the saying that every person enters our lives for a purpose. The longer I live the more I believe this.

Maybe in a parallel universe I am living that life I think I wanted. Every movie that deals with this subject asks the same existential question: Would you really give up what you have for what you could have had? Let's play the game. Let's say that I had gone on to study Russian history or literature and had done all that traveling and work. Yes, by now would be fluent in Russian. What a beautiful universe. However, had I done it that way how would I ever have connected with the people I now work with? Let's say as a 20 something graduate student I went to Russia then still the USSR. Chances are I would not even have landed at Vnokovo airport let alone met Leonid or heard one of his amazing fishing stories. If I had travelled to Tashkent in 1987 what chain of events could possibly have led to me being introduced to an aeronautical engineer with same birthday? Never mind that at the time he was working on secret government programs or so I have heard. Tatiana would have been a face in the crowd, maybe we would have passed on a bridge in St. Petersburg, but not had any discussion about a love of chocolate. The probability of meeting Vadim or Ilya maybe a million to one, and Roman and Evgeny were still schoolboys although, I am sure they were adorable. I know one could argue I would have met different Russians, had different friends over there. This is true. But I don't want different Russians, I want these Russians.

A few weeks ago Tatiana and Mikhail came to Boston. This was the first time Tatiana and I had met. The first meeting was in Cambridge for dinner. My ridiculously tall husband and I, met up with these smart, elegant, Russian ex-pats who now live in New York. Neither of us really knew if this was going to be proof of fate or and epic failure. I think it was a success. Mikhail proved to be a fascinating conversationalist. Practical, straightforward and not afraid to speak his mind; everything Chris and I like in a person. I was especially amused by his take on "our fair city" and its size. New York City after all is big, not just big it is HUGE. Boston on the other hand has a lot compacted into a smaller space. I could not tell whether he was amazed disappointed. Were there awkward moments? Of course. Did I speak as much Russian as I could have or wanted to? Of course not. Did I ever take the chance to engage Mikhail in an in depth conversation about my love for Russian films especially the adventures of Shurik? No, but I did mention to him that the overcrowded train and our many ill fated attempts to get on one that was not overcrowded did remind me of the vignette from the film "Operation «Ы»" . We had the chance to meet and to show them the city that we love and once again to meet in person someone who is no longer a mere voice on the other end of Skype.

It is so stupid, but in the end helpful to reflect on regret but celebrate fate. Embrace the chances, and the opportunities the universe throws at us. To discover you share similar histories, values and even birthdays makes the universe a very cool place.

День рождения Пушкина! Or “Если ты не любишь Пушкина, то ты не любишь поэзию" - "If you don't like Pushkin, then you don't like poetry".*

Here is another confession…I really hate nineteenth century literature. In particular I really hate Jane Austen which led to my hate of romantic literature in general. First, my apologies to Dr. Anne Higginbotham at Eastern Connecticut State University, who subjected me to Austen's romantic exploits on two separate occasions. In that case, maybe she should apologize to me. I remember in class when she handed out the book list and I saw "Mansfield Park" was on the book list, unconsciously I rolled my eyes but she saw me. "Ms. Mueller you will read it and you will like it." I read (the Cliff Notes) and I hated it even in Cliff Notes form. So began my disdain for things defined as "romantic". But I should explain why because you can't just carry around free floating disdain without reason.

Virtually everything that qualifies (at least in my culture) as "romantic" takes two forms. The first portrays love and romance in an over idealized saccharin view of love or romance. Like Jane Austen, possibly Wuthering Heights and finally Nicholas Sparks. Romance portrayed as hearts on fire, kissing in the pouring rain, and all this punctuated by lines like "You complete me." Every year a new crop of young women in my classroom will ask me if I have seen fill- in- the- blank- romantic- movie. Or "How could you not LOOOOOVE The Notebook." Easy, there are no explosions.

The other form of course looks at passion, and only passion so true love is boiled down to sexual gratification and how sexually compatible the couple is especially when they fall into bed with each other either in the first 30 minutes of the film or first 50 pages of the book. Passion is of course an amazing force burns out quickly if not fed by something else. Sex can be great, but becomes meaningless if really there is nothing else in common.

All this disdain for romance is coming from a woman who married her high school sweetheart and now loves Pushkin. The latter, one could argue is the most romantic poet ever produced in world literature, the former is working on it.

There is really nothing I should like about Pushkin. He wrote about love and he was a poet. Poetry is the other problem. I never really liked poetry either. One reason could be because I did not understand it. Also most of what passes for poetry is just prose written in fragments and read in an earnest, over emotional manner. I can read the phone book this way, it does make it poetry. Call me old school but I like it to rhyme.

When I first started to communicate with real Russians eventually the topic would turn to literature and also poetry and so really Pushkin. Had I read him? Did I like him? Hmm 19^th century Russian poet. I did not think there was much of a chance given my well formed prejudice against the 19^th century and its literature. But then I was sent this:

Я вас любил

Я вас любил: любовь еще, быть может,

В душе моей угасла не совсем;

Но пусть она вас больше не тревожит;

Я не хочу печалить вас ничем.

Я вас любил безмолвно, безнадежно,

То робостью, то ревностью томим;

Я вас любил так искренно, так нежно,

Как дай вам бог любимой быть другим.

 

I loved you once

I loved you once, and still, perhaps, love's yearning

Within my soul has not burned away.

Yet may they nevermore you be concerning

I do not wish you sad in any way.

My love for you was wordless, hopeless cruelly

Drowned now in shyness, now in jealousy.

And I loved you so tenderly so truly

As God grant by another you may be.

 

 

If that does not move you I am pretty sure you are dead.

And really if you hear it in Russian it will knock you over. (See note at the end) Over the past two years I have opened up about poetry in general and romantic poetry on particular. I love Pushkin. I currently own a bilingual copy of Мой Талисман/My Talisman which even at a heafty700+ pages I carry with me practically everywhere. It was in this copy I found my favorite poem which I will share at the end. My Russian teacher can be easily distracted at the mention of Pushkin. But is more than simply amazing poetry, Pushkin reformed the Cyrillic alphabet he changed the way Russians wrote not only poems but other literature. Pushkin had a political side also writing poetry walking a very careful line with the Tsar but in tacit support of the Decemberist uprising.

He wrote short stories but is most famous for the poem Evgeny Onegin. Onegin is the story of the unrequited love between Onegin and Tatiana, members of the Russian aristocracy that never seem to connect. It is a long poem and not the kind of thing I would normally attempt but I did and to my shame have not finished. I have a good excuse. I was reading this poem and loving it when one morning while working with one Russian friend who shall remain nameless asked me how I liked Onegin. I was being swept away by it and describing how much I was enjoying it when out of nowhere my friend wrote "And what did you think when he shot his friend." I had not gotten that far yet and now the best part was spoiled. Someday I will forgive, but not yet.**

Here is what I love about Pushkin aside from the lyricism, the quantity of work and the influence of Russian literature and history. It comes down to the way Pushkin writes about love is real because it is heartbreaking. You can see it in the poem above. He has given up on this love, this woman, but maybe not quite it is not all yet "burned away". He never told her, but loved her in silence. For whatever reason we do not know his prayer is that another may love her. But it begs the question. Love her how? Another silent unrequited love? Real love? And he writes about this love is painful and tormenting. This is what hooked me. It is never enough for Pushkin to write about love for love's sake or for the pain of love ending or forgotten. But he leaves you with the question…what's next? Like life. There is no happy ending in Pushkin just more questions. This is what I love about Pushkin and dislike about other forms of the romantic genre. For most romance stories there is a happy ending, the couple ride off together to be happy and in love for all eternity. But life is not like that and Pushkin knows it. Love fades, love remains unspoken, and people live with the joy and the pain of love. We live and die for love, and in between who knows. We certainly don't and as for A.S. Pushkin neither did he. He married a woman much younger than himself and was mortally wounded in a duel on January 27, 1837 and died two days later. This last poem, dear reader embodies everything I love about Pushkin and although I cannot read it fluently in Russian, to do so and to memorize it, remains a personal goal.

Цветок

Цветок засохший, безуханный,

Забытый в книге вужу я

И вот уже мечтою странной

Душа наполнилась моя

 

Где цвёл? Когда? Какой весною?

И долго ль цвёл? И сорван кем.

Чужой, знакомой ль рукою?

Иположен сюда зачем.

 

На память нежного ль свиданья.

Или разлуки роковой

Иль одинокого гулянья

В тиши полей, в тени лесной

 

И жив ли тот, и та жива ли?

И нынче где их уголок?

Или уже они увяли

Как сей неведомый цветок.

 

The flower

A dried out flower without fragrance,

Forgotten in a book I see

My soul's somehow already racing

And fills with a strange reverie

 

Where did it bloom? In which spring? When?

Did it bloom long? Who picked it then?

Was it a stranger or a friend?

And who put it here and to what end?

 

In memory of tender trysting?

Or else of fateful parting day?

Or else perhaps of lone walk wistful

In silent fields and wooded shade?

 

Do he and she still live, I wonder?

And where now is their little nook?

Or have they faded, lost their luster,

Like this small flower in this book.

 

*Thanks to my friend Roman for helping me complete this thought.

** Мой друг, я тебе прощаю.

(http://max.mmlc.northwestern.edu/~mdenner/Demo/texts/loved_you_once.htm) This is a great website called From the Ends to the Beginning and is a bilingual Russian poetry site. You can hear the poem read in very emotive Russian. This site also has a number of other wonderful Russian poets in both English, and of course Russian.

 

 

 

 

 

 

OMG!!

On Sunday quite unexpectedly the handle to my kitchen sink broke. One moment my eldest son was getting himself a drink of water and the next moment he was holding the handle in his hand. Normally such a home repair would not seem to be the catalyst for the decisions and events that unfolded, but in my mind it all started with the sink. I was without an operable kitchen sink, I was getting used to domestic setbacks. A few months ago (before Easter) our dishwasher was broken and back in December (before Christmas) I was without a working oven. In regards to the oven I found it interesting that both my students and more than one of my Russian friends thought that I had kicked my oven or that my oven was in some way a victim to my aggression. In my defense the door became stuck and the oven door was broken in my attempt to "un-stick it". One of my students drew a now famous picture of me in a Santa hat kicking my defenseless oven with the following dialog floating above my head. – One Russian guy "Did you kick your oven?" Other Russian guy "I think you did kick your oven." And me saying "grrrrrr I hate my oven!!" When my dishwasher broke I received very little sympathy from any of my Russian friends who explained "we wash our dishes with our arms our whole lives."

So my in-operable sink was simply the latest casualty. And to make life more interesting my husband was going on a business trip Monday morning so who knows how long I was in fact going to need to haul water in pans and pitchers from the bathroom to wash dishes. "Look it works!!" he says cheerfully to me. "Just get the water from the tub and you can wash everything just fine! Think of it as camping!" In his mind "think of something as camping" is equated with fun or even a normal state of being. To an Eagle scout life should be camping. I on the other hand don't think I should have to camp in my own home unless there is some natural disaster.

Late Monday he contacts me with one of those good news/bad news emails. The good news was he was coming home Wednesday evening to fix the sink.The bad news was he was leaving at 4:00am for Vegas and would be gone until Friday. He paused and then added. "I have more the bad news. I may have to go to Denmark this summer but the good news is you can come with me." We will wait to see if that will materialize. I suppose I could walk to Russia from Copenhagen. I think Leonid will meet at the border. For now I was going to get the sink fixed. Two days, I just had to make it two days.

Tuesday I am making dinner for the kids, one of my one pan wonders: Southwest rice and beans. I have the computer on streaming Наше Радио- 101.7 Москва. And suddenly my Skype starts ringing. I thought it was my husband calling me. It wasn't, it was Max. Russian Max, Russian Max from Ryazan, which is in Russia.I knew Max and his wife Tanya were visiting the US and I knew they were going to be in Boston. He is a week early in my opinion, I was really hoping he was comming the next week and therefore getting me out of the Baccalaureate. You see how my luck is going.

"HELLO ELIZABETH WE ARE IN BOSTON!!" The computer connection is not too good for some reason, so I ask him to call me on my cell phone. After some fumbling around with the available telecommunications I get the story. They are in Boston for about one day and Tuesday night is the only night they could see me. I am not about to pass this up I just need to figure out how. My daughter is at a track meet and I need her home to watch her brothers. We agree on 8:00pm. I am trying to think of where to meet. Max tells me he has a GPS. They will find my house. This is what passes for normal in my house. Really, this is totally normal.

"OK BOYS!! We have 2 hours until the Russians get here! I need you to help me for 30-45 min WE NEED TO GET THIS HOUSE UZBEKISTAN CLEAN!" (Uzbekistan clean is a standard I established after seeing some photos of Andrey's apartment. It is a dreamland of cleanliness. Clean swept floors, neat bookshelves, and although I can't see inside the cabinets I am sure they are a well organized paradise!) My sons spring into action sweeping, and straightening they whole time asking me "They are really coming, really…here? You are really going to meet them tonight?"

Finally the house is picked up, and my daughter calls to tell me I need to pick her up at school. I give a few last minute tasks to the boys and zip over to the school. I am nervous but really excited. It starts to hit me I am going to meet in person one of the voices from the other side of the planet. My daughter gets off the bus to my excited jumping up and down. I swear I horrify her. "Come on let's go!!! Russians will be here in an hour!!" Her response- "Ok, which ones?" (see, totally normal)

I also contact one of my friend and colleagues on IM. "Russians and beer- you in??" She is agreeable and we start trying to figure out where to go and here is where I freeze and panic. In my mind the perfect place is my house. Except I have no sink in my kitchen, which in the big scheme of things is not really a big deal but in my mind it looms very large. In all honesty if it was any other Russians, Leonid, Irina, Andrey, Ilya or Vadim we would have made the best of it. At least in my mind that is how I'm playing this. Actually, on second thought no, I think I would have been freaking out more if it was any of them. So in my panic I choose to take my friends from Russia to (wait for it..) Applebees…yes that's right Applebees, and I have been kicking myself ever since. As soon as I decide it, I want a do over. But I am so glad they are coming I am hoping the company will outweigh all the other factors.This is really my husband's fault if he had been home I would have made a better decision. My first encounter has come to this. Beer and God knows what else at an American chain restaurant. I am such a wimp.

But the evening did not go too bad. We (my colleague and I) introduced them to Blue Moon beer, a tasty selection and a little eclectic. The food was not horrible and in the bar there were a group of college kids playing beer pong. The rules of which I was unclear on but thankfully my colleague was well versed, which scares me in its own way. The conversation was good and I did ok in Russian also (so I was told). I heard all about their travels and how amazed they are by the US and the people who live here. I heard about their first NHL hockey game. Sadly, the Bruins lost but it was still exciting. Max and Tanya were amazed by how tall my kids are I was amazed by how beautiful Tanya is and the brightness Max's smile. All these things I suspected but there was something wonderful to have your suspicions confirmed in person. We talked about all the normal things we usually talk about, work and kids, travel and beer. But now we were talking face to face not over the computer. It was очень cool!

The really amazing and wonderful thing for me was that although we were not in a restaurant I in a better state of mind would have picked (EVER), Max and Tanya are wonderful and beautiful people. I had seen photos of them obviously, but photos and even conversations does not prepare one for the real encounter, the real conversation when you are sitting face to face with someone who had been a virtual stranger in so many ways and now was a friend. A real flesh and blood friend! To quote a favorite Russian song- "тоже cool!"

I am looking forward to many more such meetings. So, Denmark anyone? Or I can just walk to the border...

It takes a village: Я люблю мою общину!

    Learning a language is a social activity. Think about it. Why would you sink time, money and frustration into such an activity if you had no intention of speaking it? Back in high school when Spanish and I were "an item" this was a little trickier. If I wanted to speak with native Spanish speakers I suppose I could have gone into Hartford or Springfield and hung around in bodegas until someone was willing to talk to me. My parents were appropriately suspicious of this idea. Once, my father brought me home a Spanish newspaper. I read it over and over again. And still…my grades in Spanish were not stellar. My Spanish practice was limited to talking to myself. I have always done this. I talk to myself all the time. I think this is because I process verbally and am an auditory learner. Or I need to have that little talk with my doctor...

    When I decided to learn Russian I certainly saw it as an intellectual, solitary exercise. I struggled with the language without context. Conversation is the context. When I began to work with native speakers: real Russians, I now had a context and such fascinating conversations. I can get to that later…this installment is about the types of people you should try to surround yourself with if you want to make any progress in your language of choice. To be clear, before I get "comments" most people are a combination of these types. No one is ever one thing all the time. Remember, you as the English speaker fit into these categories as well.

The grammarian: While this person may drive you crazy at times you will learn to love them and value them.Think of this person as a favorite coach or teacher. The teacher who made you work extra hard for that extra point, the coach who demanded more from you than you knew you had in you. Because here is the basic truth about language study; Of course people can speak their language but that does not mean they understand it. This person can make you a little insane, they are rigorous, they are tough, but having someone who has a deep understanding of the grammar is invaluable. When you are wrong they will tell you but they will also explain why you are wrong. They will check everything you write and say with exacting detail. You need this. Do not anger these people, they are essential. Do not make off handed jokes or try to say something clever with these people (unless you have earned it). Now, this is not to say these people are humorless task masters. In fact when you do or say something right NO ONE is more thrilled then them. Remember it is not only a language you are studying but a culture and way of life. It deserves respect and care, and so do they. LISTEN TO THEM.

The "comrade": Ahhh Мой товарищ, говорит со мной! The comrade takes many forms but mostly these are the people who also care about grammar and pronunciation but also want you to speak the target language and often. In general these people care less about small mistakes but who will call you on the big ones. They also will explain the grammar and syntax and if they don't know they will ask (usually their spouse who paid closer attention in school to such things) or look it up and get back to you. Comrades also will want to practice English and will ask you questions. There is a real give and take with a comrade. From this person you get real sense that you are both in this together. They will also, like the grammarian, push you to speak often and correctly. In fact when feeling strong the comrade will simply shut off the English or in some cases claim to forget English altogether. A fun game to be sure, so learn how to beg in your target language.

The buddy: In general this type may or may not care if you speak in the target language at all. They want to practice English and learn about you and your culture. They will be very patient with your lack of grammar and vocabulary. However, be ready to teach them English: IN DETAIL WITH EXAMPLES. The buddy is fun, the buddy will be infinitely impressed by your feeble attempts and as you improve you will have a great time practicing with them. The buddy is a great person to practice with, there is less worry about mistakes but you may pick up some bad syntax habits because they may not always correct you. But you can fix those mistakes when you work with your grammarian.

Your 12 step sponsor: "Hello, I am Elizabeth and I am addicted to Cyrillic letters, noun declension and verbal aspects." "HELLO ELIZABETH!" At some point you will realize your little "hobby" has taken over your life. At some point you will feel like quitting but you keep getting pulled in. You may feel like the language is "out to get you", or somehow all the vocabulary you worked in has been sucked out of your brain by aliens. Here is where you need the 12 step sponsor. They have seen the same aliens because they sucked the vocabulary out of their brain last week. They are sorry that they accidently gave the aliens your address. This is the English speaker or speakers who are also addicted like you are. As great and as helpful as your native speakers are sometimes it is wonderful to talk with a fellow traveler. They get you, you understand each other. Most importantly they understand why you work and study as hard as you do. You hold each other's hand and cheer each other on.

In reality, everyone is cheering for you. Everyone is cheering for each other. Learning a language as an adult is not the same as when you were in school. You work at your own pace on your own time. You want them to succeed they want you to succeed. The dream is all of you sitting around a table moving effortlessly between two languages and two worlds telling family stories, sharing history, seeking greater understanding, and deepening friendships.

It takes a community and communities are stronger when they speak!

И потом...(and then)

Tuesday 1:00am phone calls are the worst. It is never good. No one calls to tell say you won a million dollars, or you are getting a job promotion or a raise in pay. No. 1 am phone calls are always bad news. This one was the worst. At 1:00am April 5, 2010 my mother called me from Maine to tell me my brother was in the ICU and was not expected to make it through the night. My brother, my baby brother who had struggled and fought for so much in his life was losing and my mother and I could not be there and in all likelihood would not get there in time.
I got up, I went downstairs and turned on the TV to wait.
2:40 am my brother lost the fight. The infection had taken over and taken him away from us.
Action perfected.
We live in verbs in any language. We do things and describe what we do. In English we have 16 verb tenses to describe the subtlety of time and place and action. In Russian there are essentially four: present, past, future and imperative. Seems easy? You would be wrong because Russian also has this funky little concept called “aspect”. These verbs are often paired together but not always. One verb describes an action in process the other describes action completed. Action imperfect, action perfected.
Я тебя говорю. I spoke to you. (We talked for hours)
Я сказала его: I spoke to him (I said my piece and am finished! Or my personal favorite to understand this from my teacher Mila: (Я ему сказла «Ты дурак! » I said to him “You are a fool!”)
Умирать/ умерть
In one moment my brother was умирает и потом....умер- action perfected. The whole week was about perfect and imperfect action. I was packing, I packed. My mother was coming, she arrived. We ate lunch at a diner in Connecticut. We finished and drove to New Jersey. We went to the hospital. We collected his things. We cleaned the apartment. We had to find a home for the dog. We found a home for the dog. We had a list. Imperfect actions became perfected and then the next imperfect action hoping to perfect as much as possible in our week. We still work in imperfect and then perfect.
And it really hit me at that moment sitting in my living room watching some infomercial for some new cooking device that was going to save me time money and calories, this action is not going to end умирает и потом он живёт. Interestingly both умирать and жить are imperfect actions from a grammar perspective because eventually we all die. In Russian the ultimate perfective action is death.
Action perfected…

We should talk...

Lent is a time for confession. So I am going to make one.

Мои русские друзья, пожалуйста, простите меня!
Я боюсь говорить по-русски.

I know this is shocking!Why would someone want to try to learn a language and then not want to try to speak it? It’s true. And it is so sad, because your language makes me feel strong and amazingly intelligent. I do not want to sound like we are on a bad date but its true: It’s not you it’s me. It is not your fault it’s mine. And I am sorry. On those rare occasions when some of you have heard me speak, you have ALL told me I speak well. It is my fault for not believing you. So here are my reasons for not doing what I should have been doing.
1) I am afraid of getting it wrong.
- I mean GEEZ!! Can you blame me? Think of all the things I have to think of when I speak that you never have to think of: I have to think of the whole sentence! Where is the subject? Which verb? Which aspect? Did I complete the action? Will I complete the action? Opps! Now we have a preposition so if I say “that” then it is “this” case…and on and on….and I have not even mentioned the issue of pronunciation….which if I get wrong messes everything up completely despite my best intentions.
2) I am limited in Russian:
- SHOCK!! Not only in vocabulary but also understanding of the grammar. After my first conversation with a native speaker. I was painfully aware of what I did not know. So I poured a lot of energy into studying in the hopes of closing this language gap. Now I am stuck in this loop of feeling I have not learned enough so I can’t speak.
3) Then there is the issue of English practice:
- Well now there is the other side of it. I was not just contacting you for Russian you were contacting me for English. I think I grew very comfortable in this role as your friend and tutor. But as you were catching up to me I was not feeling I was doing the same. And let me say for my part. I have been amazed at the strides all of you have made in English. Despite the fact that you do not like articles and think they will just go away.
4) My abandonment issues:
- Ok I will admit this is really, really stupid! (really stupid) In my defense, I had no reason to believe I would still be working with 2 of you after 2 years, and the rest of you a year or more. To be fair, there are some people who have dropped out. I hope the core community I have remains intact and I guess if you have stuck around with me for 2 years I owe you some Russian. (ok, ok I owe EVERYONE!)

You can see it is a vicious cycle… But there is another element here that has nothing to do with you. I now risk sounding like a real whiny baby, but I never thought I was very smart. I always knew I was nice, but never smart. I had to fight for that. Upon reflection this is also stupid because there was plenty of evidence to the contrary, but I ignored it. For example when I was 16 or 17 my parents came home from a school conference with my teachers and said the most terrifying words a teen can hear. “Honey, please come here and sit down.” I remember this story because I tell it to my own students. My parents asked me if it were possible that I could start fighting kids at school, maybe sell drugs or at least light something on fire. Why? They were tired (and rightfully so) of hearing how I was really bright but “did not work up to my potential”. I think I was too interested in boys to think about working up to my potential. I did not even know what a GPA was until I met Chris and then it was too late to really do anything about it. I remember asking him- “So is the GPA important?” Furthermore, it did not help that my guidance counselor thought I should go to a two year school and get an associate’s degree because he did not think I could hack a four year university education. And here is where my mother is my hero, because I remember that conversation also.

“You go back in that office, get the applications for the four state universities and fill them out!! Who the heck does that guy think he is??!!”

Tearfully I filled them out. I was accepted at two schools, I choose the smaller one. After four more years of crying I graduated with a 3.2 (or something like that) and went on to graduate school where I graduated (more crying) with something like a 3.4. It seems I am not stupid, just a really emotional creature.
It is more than just being emotional; I am fearful, terribly fearful. There are times when it feels like the fear and doubt are so strong they will take over my life. As a mother I have nudged my poor husband more times than I care to remember because I was convinced that a peacefully sleeping baby was a victim of crib death. Once, when Ben fell out of bed and I woke up in time to hear him hit the floor. I lay there listening for crying. When there was none, I went to his room convinced to find my darling boy dead on the floor or bleeding from a head trauma. In my mind that would explain the lack of crying. When I walked in he had picked himself up and put himself back into bed. No blood, no concussion. I woke him up anyway to be sure.
So almost every decision I have made in my life had some element of fear attached to it or was at least part of the landscape. I am complete “six” on the Enneagram. (http://www.enneagraminstitute.com/TypeSix.asp) go ahead…read it! My face is practically on the webpage. For those of you who are not familiar with this personality assessment I highly recommend it. Essentially there are nine “points” and with some careful self analysis you can find which point best represents you. It has also been helpful for me to understand why other people don’t see the world the way I do. Not to get into a huge explanation of this assessment but a “six” is known as “the Loyalist” but the other points move around as follows;
1) The perfectionist
2) The helper
3) The achiever
4) The romantic
5) The observer
6) The loyalist (or the questioner)
7) The adventurer
8) The asserter
9) The peacemaker

At their best sixes are: loyal, likable, caring, warm, compassionate, witty, practical, helpful and responsible. At their worst: hyper vigilant, controlling, unpredictable, judgmental, PARANOID, DEFENSIVE, rigid, SELF-DEFEATING, and testy. (emphasis mine)
This is only one tool and as I am not really into personality assessments per-se, I like this one. When I read the section on “me” I have to laugh. And so should you. It describes the typical thoughts of a six: “I am ready for any emergency.” “Was I talking too much?” “Why did I say that?” “Why did she say that?” you get the idea.
Now this same person is studying Russian. It is amazing that I have not needed medication yet. This would be crippling or could be if it was not for my “wings” – The adventurer – fun loving, spontaneous, imaginative, and confident “seven”. Here is where I try to draw strength and do what I need to do. On the other side is - the observer- listening, analytical, persevering objective and wise “five”. This wing reminds me I am intelligent, competent and with hard work I can successfully achieve my goals.
Unfortunately, I often take to complaining about how I can’t make the language work in my head and get easily frustrated with my mistakes. This cycle of defeat is keeping me stuck and not enabling me to make the progress I want. I understand that one way to progress now is to speak even if it is wrong. While complaining one evening one correspondent told me- “You have a tough mind. Keep practicing!” I will of course still speak English with you and continue to help you overcome your irrational fear of English verb tenses and noun articles. One friend in Russia always says to me before we speak “Let’s jump!” So yes…I will jump because I trust you.


Sources:

Baron, Renee & Wagele, Elizabeth. Enneagram Made Easy: Discover the 9 Types of People Harper San Francisco, 1994.

Reflections from the first glorious Russian summer- 2008

After I began my formal classes, my Russian correspondents were happy to help. As I began these classes in the summer I had the time and space to study and practice. For a few weeks it was a pretty comfortable pattern. My class was on Thursday, so I would spend the weekend working on my exercises in the book and early in the week over Skype Irina and I would go over vocabulary. I soon learned how to send scanned copies of the pages of my textbook so she would know what I was reading and writing. In my first class I was instructed that I needed to write my Cyrillic letters in the handwritten form, not block printing. I needed a little pastoral counseling on this. Handwritten Russian of course looks different than block printed letters same as English. I spent an entire weekend with penmanship paper carefully learning these letters it seemed for the first time.
I began to get used to writing in Cyrillic I was also impressed by how neat my handwriting looked. I liked the Russian student I was becoming. I was very proud maybe a little too much. I decided to scan and send my written work to Andrey. At this point most of motivation was becoming a deep desire to impress all three of them. Andrey had worked so hard with me and given so much time. I was eager. My heart was like that of a small child wanting to impress a favorite teacher. I decided to impress him, with of all things, my penmanship.
I can hear the collective laughter of every teacher I have ever had. My mother and my grandmother have amazing penmanship. I always envied how beautifully formed their letters were. My grandmother in particular had handwriting that was so beautiful it was made for sepia colored postcards. My father on the other hand had penmanship that was completely illegible. When my father returned to get his university degree in his 40’s he used to handwrite all his research papers and my mother would type them for him. These were the days before computers and word processing. This was a typewriter in the most typewriter-y sense of the word. I remember one evening in particular I was working on homework at the kitchen table and my mother was in the dining room typing up a paper for my father. I think it was on the Civil War. I am working to the dulcet tones of tak- tak- tak my peaceful study interrupted by the occasional outbursts from my mother; practically apoplectic yelling “PAUL! What the hell does this mean!!??”
In graduate school I learned a secret to improve my messy handwriting. I discovered that writing in another alphabet actually improved my handwriting in English. As a teacher I write on a board everyday as part of my educational pedagogy. After spending an entire summer practicing writing in Russian if I was not thinking. I would begin to teach my class and mix up Latin and Cyrillic letters on the board.
Using a new alphabet has a learning curve, and Russian has a steep one. What I received back the next day was covered with red marks and an added page of instruction on how to form the letters. “Too many curlicues! See attached pages.” I forgot Andrey is not easily impressed. I was determined so I learned and practiced the letters his way. Someday we may be sitting at his table in Tashkent getting ready to go to the market. I fully expect him to hold up my neat shopping list before we head off. “Elizabeth, what in God’s name is дбмя!”
And so it goes on through the fall. Russian class every other week now more and more vocabulary to learn. I am using the website Irina invited me to and have become a faithful user. This new site has actual lesson modules one can work through and interestingly enough much of the vocabulary presented follows my textbook if not in exact word then in theme. But in reality the best thing about this site is that as the fall progresses I am adding new Russian friends to help and work with. Even with all these new friendships in exotic places like Ryazan, Kaluga and Izhevsk I still treasure my online conversations every week with Leonid. What started off as earnest yet struggling conversations as the weeks go by we can both hear real progress. Leonid has a dry and quick wit which in fact does translate into English. He is extremely patient with me which I have always appreciated. I need them both. Andrey to kick my butt and Leonid patiently waiting for me to pronounce (over and over and over) a word like: добросердечный. I have often said to him that one day we will sit at a table eating, talking and moving deftly between English and Russian as if no barrier exists or ever existed. He told me this is a good dream.
The best thing about Leonid and one reason why I love to work with him is that he always has a good story or saying. He tells me about his time in school, the compulsory military service, how he became a member of the Communist party, what life was like in Russia during Perestroika and Glasnost, how life has changed. Conversations with Leonid are always a minimum of 2 hours and I always learn something and sometimes even some Russian. As time has gone on I have become very comfortable trying to speak Russian with him I used to be too afraid of disappointing him but that is another story….
Life and reality soon break into my idyllic study. By the end of October I realize I need to take a break from the class and will be on my own. I cannot return until June. I begin to panic. I feel like my needs are so great no one will be able or willing to help me. I feel like I may become a burden. So I hang back a bit I try to work on my own. I send Andrey a few things but it as if my brain, once a furtive factory of Slavic sounds has now shut down and the machinery. I can feel the rust creeping into my brain.
For nine months in the spring, summer and fall of 2008, I fiercely held onto Leonid, Irina and Andrey careful not to upset them or overwork them. With some varied success in my opinion. Politics tends to set Andrey off. I honestly can’t blame him and often agree with him although I am not sure he believes me. I understand his deep suspicion of American democracy and intentions. I know it is never personal. Come to think of it I really should learn “I agree with you.” in Russian. I like that fact that he gets like this because there is a real passion in these explosions. Maybe because the West has always been the enemy so this kind of animosity is natural. While sometimes these conversations have left me feeling stressed I really love talking about politics with him. I hope one day to have one of these conversations in person. It should prove amazing. Maybe it is like being present at the moment of creation. It is fascinating enough in English it must be amazing in Russian. If I ever visit Andrey (and I really hope I do) I will put “starting an argument over US foreign policy” on the list with making him pie, visiting Navoi Park, watching the birds on his balcony, doing the four hour Saturday shopping, and eating famous Uzbek melons. Maybe the tourist office should put him into the promotional materials. I only say this out a real deep affection and gratitude.
I let my Russian class, my Skype practice sessions with old friends and now some new ones and extra online lessons eat up my summer. It has been a glorious summer but I am unsure of how much progress I am making. The summer folds into the busy fall. But by late November I seems to have not only proven to myself that I can learn some basic Russian and can improve but also I have developed a little community around me. By Thanksgiving my contact list on Skype has now added a few more characters that I work with. I also have a new laptop computer so I can bring my Russian and my Russians with me everywhere. Once, when my laptop slid out of my bag and down the stairs at school one of my students exclaimed “OH NO Mrs. Rossano all your friends are in there!!” The laptop was fine. And then one evening I read a passage and said a few sentences to Andrey and sent him the mp-3. Later during our weekly chat he wrote. “I can hear you smile when you speak Russian.” Finally some real progress.