Vying for a Praktikum

Holding true to my normal habits, I am attempting to get an internship (Praktikum) here in Heidelberg. Since I am a little tired of taking regular university style courses, an internship seems idyllic. I get experience, credit, and a lighter course load. As of right now, I am still in the process of interviewing at a school with four other students from the American Junior Year (AJY) program. We are all vying for a position to teach English in a German high school.

This last week, we had our first portion of the interview. All five of us traipsed into a classroom and stood in a line in front of twenty-five students between the ages of 15 and 17. After introducing ourselves, we each took a group of about four or five students. Our first task was to simply talk about our lives in America and their lives here in Germany. The second task was to read an article about September 11th out loud to them and then discuss it.

Although the conversation was a little awkward at first, I was able to get two of the students in my group to really talk to me. They were learning about September 11th and the subsequent wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. We spoke about the conspiracy theories surrounding 9/11, and whether or not they are widely accepted in the USA. We discussed the role the media played in America and around the world. We talked about how Americans view the wars, and the role the American military plays around the world. The best part was that I wasn't the only one that seemed to be getting into our discussion. At the end of the session, the teacher asked what the students thought. Only three students raised their hands; two were from my group and they said that listening to my opinion and explaining theirs to me was very fascinating. I later found out that some of the other AJY students were only able to get their group to discuss the article for a couple minutes before reverting to discussing favorite bands and singers. While I was recommending documentaries on media coverage during the Iraqi War and the American education system, other groups were exchanging names of bands.

Unfortunately, I don't think I have the job. A lot of the other AJY students want to teach and have education majors. Nonetheless, I have another interview this week, and I am keeping my fingers crossed. I didn't think I would enjoy the interview as much as I did.

I Know What Happened Here

The first time I rode a train through Germany was eerie. Sometimes still, I'll be standing at a train station in misting rain, and the same feeling will hit me again: I know what happened here. World War II and the Holocaust were not terribly long ago. Furthermore, Germany's fabulous infrastructure of rail lines and roads are remains of wartime construction and maneuvering.

Maybe I am becoming a little too Anne of Green Gables-y with my imagination. But perhaps some emotions are just so strong that they leave behind echos. I get the same feeling when I am alone in the battlefields at Gettysburg. I know what happened where I am standing, and I can't help but think about the story this place could tell. So when I am at a old train station here, I wonder who else passed through, where were they going, and whether they knew. However, normally, such thoughts rarely cross my mind. Germany is different from the country it was in 1933 to 1945. And I am often too caught up in my modern day stresses and worries to think about history. Nonetheless, there are still just these moments where it hits me: I know what happened here.

Last Saturday, my friend Anna and I went on a hike up to the Philosophen Weg (Philosophers Way), which winds around the Heiligenberg (Holy Mountain) bordering the Neckar River. Having heard about ruins of a Kloster (monastery) on top, Anna and I began a rather convoluted trip to the summit. However, what greeted us before we reached the Kloster was this huge outdoor amphitheater. We had been expecting to find ruins from the Middle Ages, but it was obvious this strange edifice was built rather recently. From further exploration, we discovered that the structure is one of about 45 "Thingstätte" or "Thingplatz" built during the Third Reich.

The Nazi's Thingstätten were part of the "Blut und Boden" (blood and soil) movement of Joseph Goebbels. A "Thing" harkens back to ancient Nordic/Germanic outdoor gatherings. The Nazis attempted to recreate these gatherings with shows of propaganda, meetings, or youth rallies. Originally, 1200 Thingstätten were planned; however, the movement was rather unpopular (probably because of the rainy German weather) and lost favor with the Nazis in 1936. This particular one was built from 1934 to 1935. Strategically located on the "holy mountain," it is nestled between two different monasteries' ruins. During the reign of the Third Reich, it was often used for youth rallies because of its close proximity to the university. Today, it is still used for various concerts or festivals.

There were very few people around, the sun was shining, and there was a slight breeze rustling the grass. Nothing could have been more eerily normal. There are reminders from the Third Reich everywhere. They are in the mountains, the death camps, the streets, rail lines, and within the people. I can't help but wonder how much these little unconscious elements affect the people who have grown up in Germany, who must claim what happened as part of their history. The other day, I was trying to read this German article about artwork. What I understood from it is that, in modern German artwork and much of the artwork of Europe, there is often a void. This reoccurring void symbolizes a sort of moral rift in our history. It represents the genocide that tore a hole in our humanity. I don't think it will be possible anytime soon to get away from this void. Because even though it is often subconscious, it is there seeping into normal everyday.

Insomnia auf Deutsch

Every night around two or three o'clock, I wake up. I roll around for little while until I can't stand it any longer. Sitting up in bed, I'll yank out the earplugs I am wearing and grumble sleepily to myself.

Since I live in the middle of the Altstadt (Old City), there is always a lot of noise. I also, somehow, probably for the sake of cosmic irony, ended up in a fraternity house. Nonetheless, neither my location nor the people traipsing around outside my window are the cause for my insomnia. No, I can't seem to fall back asleep because all my thoughts are in German.

I am no stranger to insomnia. For the last several years, I have religiously followed all those ridiculous "sleep hygiene" rules in efforts to curb my wakefulness. However, every now and then, no matter how much warm milk I ingest and meditation I attempt, I'll still find myself staring, wide-awake at the ceiling for the vast majority of the night. I didn't think things could get any worse than that; however, they can. You see, it is far more frustrating to be incapable of understanding the thoughts hounding one's brain. I'll wake up, and I can't seem to grasp any meaning from the German gibberish flying through my head. I know they are my thoughts, but it makes no difference. I don't understand.

Sometime back when I was frantically trying decide between Germany and Austria, one of my professors told me that it would be exhausting to think constantly in another language. But I've found that is an exciting exhausting. I'm elated when I can understand everything one of my professors said. The highlights of my days are when I am able to have full conversations in German about anything from the weather to relationships to art to videogames. I've also made it a sport to try convincing non-Germans that I am a native speaker. Nonetheless, don't overestimate me. I have the vocabulary of a seven-year-old, the fluency of a toddler, and I am trying to convey the thoughts of a twenty-year-old. Needless to say, to all the fraternity brothers I live with, my choice of words is endlessly funny.

Staying the Course

My last week in Switzerland went by in a whirlwind. A few last days in the library, a couple visits from friends, packing, a meeting, and a birthday hastily pushed me through my last days. Afterwards, I met my mother in Venice for a short vacation before arriving in Heidelberg, Germany five days ago. Forgive me for my neglect, and bear with me as I update you on my thoughts concerning this last month.

Switzerland was not at all what I had planned. That is not to say that I had a bad time there; it was an amazing experience, one I would repeat if given the chance. However, things did not turn out as I had first envisioned. Originally, I was so thrilled about a research stay in Switzerland for two reasons. The first was that I was planning on going on for a graduate degree and possibly researching/teaching after finishing. The second should come as no surprise to those who know me: I was thrilled to be in another country again. There were other perks such as finding my way around on my own and practicing my German. Nonetheless, my main reason for going to Switzerland was to test out my passion for research. But what I have found is that I have kein Lust für Forshung. I liked my topic; it is very interesting to me… but I was going batty.

Oh yes. Here I am. Back at square one. More frustrated than ever.

Here is how it always goes. After a few months of learning a new trade, I normally become antsy and overcome with cabin fever. Perhaps this took root in my younger years. I could never really settle on what I wanted to learn, so I tried everything: ballet, clarinet, drums, mallets, knitting, sewing, soccer, golf, track, tennis, volleyball, swing dancing, various languages, and there was even this sad attempt at mastering yodeling. This thirst to try anything and everything that passes through my head still plagues me in college. Charmed with the idea of becoming a Renaissance woman, I run headlong down pathways at breakneck speeds only to get halfway to my destination, decide everything is all wrong, and change directions.

And now, I am at one of those points, the place on my chosen pathway that I start to think, “maybe not.” And suddenly, the very last thing I want to do is go straight and stay the course.

Perhaps this is not a problem. I’m still young; I am allowed to change my mind. However, lately, I’ve been told more and more that I need to start to settle down a little, to narrow my focus, to not just shave the surface, but also find depth in some field. I know this “depth” people speak of well (although not through personal possession). Everyone I met in Switzerland had been ruthlessly trained and tried. From street cleaners to garbage men to professors to bankers, everyone had chosen their field and intensively studied and trained. Most teenagers in Switzerland do apprenticeships of some sort; they learn how to become waiters, street cleaners, or landscapers. Regardless of the job, one had to have acquired skill and education. It was, to say the least, impressive. But I can't help but think, that this life is not one for which I wish.

I am at war with myself in my head. The safe and secure option, the one I always thought I’d take when I was younger, is easily in front of me. Focus. Get a degree. Go to graduate school. Get a job of some sort and make enough money to live comfortably. This is in sight and in reach. However, there is a little me that I picture inside my head, who is jumping up and down, screeching, “NO, NO, NO. I don’t want this. Not one bit. Not at all.” What's worse is that I am too well aware that this may just be a product of my age. Disillusioned college students are a dime a dozen.

Do I stay the course, or shall I listen to the little me having a fit in my head?