There's no home for you here, girl, go away. There's no home for you here.

Oh, dear, we now come to the big summing-up post that I've been dreading for a while. I'll start with a story about yesterday. My supervising teacher, Mr. Q., had talked to me on Tuesday and asked when I was going to be at school on Thursday. I told him, and he said, "Good, we'll say good-bye on Thursday then."

Yesterday, while the class I was with was doing some group work, their teacher came up to me and said that Mr. Q. wasn't there that day. I asked if he was sick, and she said no, he'd taken the day off, and had only remembered that morning that it was my last day. He'd called this other teacher and told her to let me know.

It was such an appropriate ending to my dealings with him, where he's generally been well-intentioned, but absent-minded, that I had to laugh. I wrote him a note to say goodbye and thank you, and after an awkward and mercifully brief farewell with the other teachers, I left.

Oh, what to say about this year. I wouldn't call it a waste of time, even though there were a lot of moments when I felt really frustrated about doing so little work. Because I have learned a lot here, even if they weren't always the sort of things I expected. For example, I thought about signing up for an evening German class when I first got here, but decided against it, thinking that it would be better to improve my German by speaking it with the natives, instead of with other foreigners. And by the end of the year, the times when I spoke German the most were with a group of foreigners who got together once a week to go to a bar and speak a common foreign language with each other, and I met lots of nice people in that group. And I didn't make German friends, like I'd hoped I would, or ever really feel welcome among the Germans I had to deal with, but I guess I got used to not feeling welcome, and trying to handle that feeling like an adult. I thought I would come here and never want to leave, and instead, the longer I stay, the more I miss about the U.S. (Isn't that such a cliche? Going abroad only to figure out how American you are? I'm ashamed of myself).

I filled in an end-of-year report from Fulbright, and it's currently sitting in my draft box, waiting to see if I want to modify the language at all. It's not that bad - I really just said that, if I had friends who were thinking of applying for a Fulbright TAship - and I do, and have said this - I would tell them not to. If you want to spend a year abroad, go for it, but look for a job that includes real responsibilities, and a real salary, and optimally health insurance.

I'll be a little sad about leaving Berlin, but hopefully I won't have the sort of crippling reverse culture shock that hit me when I came back from Rome and saw about six weeks of me moping, crying, and wishing I were anywhere else but boring old grey Chicago. I don't think so - I'm actually really looking forward to getting back, seeing my family, eating some bagels, and then heading out to California for the next phase of my life. I'll miss the quality European coffee and baked goods, but, y'know. No country on earth has it all. If it did, there'd be no reason to travel. (And speaking of traveling - not that I'll have the money anytime soon - I think my next trip will be beyond Europe. I'd love to go to Japan, or Australia).

Well, I'm rambling here, and I need to go pack and clean my room, so I should probably close. Hope that everyone's summer is going well, and that I'll see some of you in Chicago when I get home!

Last day.

So, today was my last day at school. It's been quite a week - I've collected chocolate and three hardcover books as gifts, said goodbye to lots of people, slept a lot less than I should have, heard the seventh graders sing a song they wrote about me (to the tune of "Yellow Submarine:" "Katie came to us a year ago, us a year ago . . . ") and felt massively embarrassed and pleased at the same time, sorted through piles of things in my room, encountered a possible crisis with my visa and spent hours worrying about it, officially registered my intent to leave the country with the local government office, and done a lot of thinking.

I'll write at more length tomorrow, but right now I need to go home and pack.

Well, maybe I need a falafel first.

I'd snort in appreciation, but it might come across the wrong way.

Your Score: Crackpot - INTJ
6% Extraversion, 66% Intuition, 66% Thinking, 66% Judging

People hate you.

Paris Hilton hates Nicole Richie. Lex Luther hates Superman. Garfield hates Mondays.But none these even rates against the insurmountable hate people have for you.

I mean, you're pretty damn clever and you know it. You love to flaunt your potential. Heard the word "arrogant" lately? How about "jerk?" Or perhaps they only say that behind your back.
That's right. I know I can say this cause you're not going to cry. You're not exactly the most emotional person. You'd rather spend time with your theoretical questions and abstract theories than with other people.

Ever been kissed? Ever even been on a date? Trust me, your inflated ego is a complete turnoff with the opposite sex and I am telling you, you're not that great with relationships as it is. You're never going to be a dude or chick magnet, purely because you're more concerned with yourself than others. Meh. They all hate you already anyway.

How about this- "stubborn?" Hrm? Heard that lately? All those facts which don't fit your theories must just be wrong, right? I mean, really, the vast amounts of time you spend with your head in the clouds...you're just plain strange.

This is from the "Brutally Honest Personality Test," at http://www.okcupid.com/tests/take?testid=3076838567116464195.

It's basically the Myer-Briggs personality test, which I've taken before, but never with such . . . brutally honest results. Not like I care. Everyone else has got it wrong anyway. Besides, I have a theoretical tome to go and read.

The civilized life.

Seeing as this was my last full weekend in Berlin (and just to warn you, posts and correspondence during this week are going to include a lot of words like "last" and its various relatives), part of me felt like I should be running around, taking in everything that I didn't get a chance to take in during the first nine and a half months here.

Instead, though, I ended up:

- sleeping late the last three days (until nearly 10, which is pretty rare for me)
- having a nice relaxing breakfast without worrying about disturbing (or being disturbed by) other people who need the kitchen - one of my roommates has all but moved in with her boyfriend, and the other is out of town for the weekend
- strolling around aimlessly
- sitting in cafes, drinking milky coffee, reading magazines and thinking about the last few lessons I need to give
- buying about twenty euros worth of chocolate for people at school
- sorting through piles of newspapers, magazines, ticket stubs, and old information from Fulbright and PAD - things that have been sitting around my room for months - and making a pile to carry down to the paper recycling bin
- rereading most of the Harry Potter novels - I met with a friend on Thursday who's doing the same in preparation for the last book, and found that I'd forgotten a lot of the details, especially of the really early books.

So, can't really tick off any items on a cultural to-do list - I might go this afternoon to an exhibit of French paintings on loan from the Metropolitan Museum that have gotten a lot of press here, but that would be it. But then, I don't really feel like there are a lot of things that I wanted to do here and haven't that I could do in a weekend. Instead, I think I have to consider this one last weekend of The European Lifestyle - complete with coffee, chocolate, and recycling - which suits me fine, since this last week will probably be taken up with packing, goodbyes and running last errands.

Sweet sorrow, sort of.

Yesterday, in my penultimate class with the seventh graders, the teacher and kids kicked me out of the class for a few minutes and conspired while I waited in the hallway. I think they're plotting to make me a card or something and give it to me for my last class with them next week. (Either that, or they're making plans for a school takeover and have me marked as a stool pigeon).

What with now only having a week of classes left, I've been thinking about how to say goodbye to people at school. I'm not particularly good at goodbyes, but I think they're easier if you actually care for the person you're leaving and can honestly thank them for their company and say how much you've enjoyed getting to know them. Hugging optional.

I'm not too worried about saying goodbye to the kids, in this respect. Of course I've had bad days with them, frustrating lessons where I could have sworn that they took a vote beforehand to be really difficult that day ("I mean, really, guys - we actually listened to Katie's instructions last week, instead of talking amongst ourselves, and we participated in the discussion. She's going to think we're suckers."). There have been some really nice moments with them too, though, and I like almost all of them most of the time. And considering that this year has basically been me starting from nothing on the "knowing how to teach" scale and using them for practice, they've been pretty patient with me. So I think that the adieus there will go okay.

It's more the teachers that I'm worried about. I've complained before here about my frustration with not feeling very accepted in the teacher's room, and my final thoughts there are pretty mixed, more along the lines of:

"Well. If I were to say that I ever felt really welcome or comfortable among you, that would be a lie. I spent a lot of time last fall being hurt and bewildered because I felt like you were ignoring me, and because my attempts to initiate conversation were more or less politely rebuffed. But I got used to it, and I hope that I'm enough of a grown-up to recognize that you weren't being deliberately unkind - we come from different cultures and have different views on friendliness and the treatment of strangers. Your failure to meet my expectations is the fault of those expectations, not you. So, while I'm not sorry to be leaving, I thank you for the learning experience and wish you all the best."

I don't think Hallmark makes that sort of card, so I'll probably fall back on the desperate person's gesture and bring chocolate. A friend and I found a nice chocolate shop in my neighborhood, so I'll have to go there next week and pick up a box.

Luckily, my family still speaks to me.

Extract from a conversation that took place last Sunday afternoon, during my weekly phone call with my mom and sister.

Me: Let's see, what's going on here . . . oh! Last Tuesday, I went to a used bookstore here and saw a copy of Dante's Inferno, translated by Dorothy Sayers. Have you read anything by her?

Annie: No . . .

Me: She was a British mystery writer at during the first half of the twentieth century - she wrote the Lord Peter Whimsey novels. I read them in high school. Anyway, I'd had no idea that she'd done this translation, but I bought the Inferno. And it was really good. I went back yesterday and got the Purgatory and the Paradise. I'm really enjoying them.

(Pause).

Annie: Okay, Kate, that was really boring.

And I guess finding out that one of your favorite authors has done a translation of Dante isn't all that exciting by normal standards (my first thought when I saw her name on the cover of the book was, "I didn't know she knew Italian!" My next was, "Oh, for Pete's sake, why wouldn't she know Italian?"). But anyway, I'm almost done with the Purgatory now, and enjoying it in a way I haven't enjoyed a book in a while. Italian has always been on my list of languages to learn, but I think it just got bumped up a few notches.

Oh, here, I'll quote you a few lines - from a description of the meeting of souls in Purgatory:

I see each shade, on swiftness all intent,
Kiss one from out the other troop, and go,
Not pausing, with this brief salute content.

(Thus, as their black bands scurry to and fro,
Ant nuzzles ant, belike to verify
The route, or swap the news - I do not know.)

Oceans white with foam (check).

I'm working on a lesson for tomorrow based on the controversy around flag burning. It's sort of grown out of a few conversations I've had with people lately about the U.S. and its future, and the subsequent thinking I've been doing. It's pretty interesting to read through the First Amendment again, fondly remember Constitution classes, and try to find a way to phrase "redress of grievances" that German teenagers will understand.

So it seemed fully appropriate that I went to the movies last night and saw Hot Fuzz. It was brilliant. I think it came out in the U.S. a few months ago, but if you haven't seen it, I would definitely recommend it.

Beeslayer

About half an hour ago, I was sitting in the S-Bahn here when I noticed a bee crawling on the floor - not one of those fluffy yellow ones, a small one. Its wings were lopsided, and it obviously wasn't much up to flying. The two women sitting next to and across from me noticed it a few seconds after I did, and both of them assumed that sort of verge-of-panic expression some people get around bees. They did look really nervous, and so when the bee crawled within range, I quietly got my shoe over it and pressed down. The three of us comtemplated my shoe for a minute, and then looked up at a huffy sigh from our right. A fourth woman was standing with a piece of paper in hand. She looked at me and said, "I was going to put it out the window," then turned and went to the other end of the carriage. The woman next to me said, relieved, "Well, it looked like it was dying anyway." But it was too late.

So, as you go about your business, if you notice a giant rent in the karma of the universe, it's my fault. I'm really, really sorry.

Oh no! The matter-antimatter containment chamber is collapsing!

I was just looking at the Star Trek website (oh, shut up) and found out that there's going to be a Trekkie convention this weekend in Bonn.

I kind of wish I'd known about this earlier. I've never been to a convention, and I feel like a German Trekkie convention would be especially cool. But I can't really organize a trip across the country at the last minute. And it would be a silly waste of money. And I left my plastic Spock ears at home.

I'm kidding. I don't really have Spock ears.

I could have bought a pair this weekend, though . . .

There are too many volts in this country.

I'm usually too impatient to blow dry my hair, and here I've usually been showering a few hours before bedtime, so that my hair has time to air dry. Yesterday, though, I took a shower in the afternoon, since I was meeting some friends in the evening, and I borrowed my roommate's hair dryer.

After turning it on and aiming it at my head, I noticed that it seemed to be making a funny noise. I looked for the switch at the back, wondering if I'd accidentally left it in between settings or something.

The blow dryer was smoking. Whisps of white smoke and the smell of something burning were coming out of the back. In a state of reasonably controlled panic, I turned it off, opened the bathroom window, put the dryer on the windowsill, making sure that it wasn't near anything flammable, and left the bathroom, closing the door behind me to make sure the smoke wouldn't escape and set off any alarms. When I checked a few minutes later, the smell had cleared and the dryer was cool to the touch. I didn't want to just throw it out, so I taped a note to it describing what had happened, thankful that words like "sorry I made the bathroom explode" were unnecessary.

Never a dull moment.

June is busted up all over.

It's summer in the city, and the construction drills are out. There's various work being done on lots of busy streets, and especially on rail lines. Two of the quickest routes from my apartment to the city center - one with the U-Bahn and one with the street tram - have at least part of their routes replaced by buses, so I see a lot of sour-faced commuters packed into buses in the neighborhood just to the south of mine.

Luckily, since Berlin has a really good transit network, I have a third train option - walking a few blocks and taking the S-Bahn. Over the weekend, though, that too was only working sporatically, with southbound passengers having to get off and switch trains at least twice. This situation caused some consternation among the citizenry. At the station where we had to switch for the second time, I was standing on the platform and waiting for the next train when I saw two tiny old women scolding the transit representative. Actually, what they were doing was probably beyond scolding; they were shaking their canes in the air and shouting about the "scheisse BVG [the city trasit authority]." The representative was taking it pretty calmly, as you probably learn to do when your job requires you to wear a uniform topped by a red beret.

Is there a wall around here I can bang my head against?

In what has been a year of very little work, this week was a new low. To break it down:

Monday: national holiday (Pfingstmontag). No school.

Tuesday: Used to be my fullest day with six periods of class, but four of those have since ended. I now usually have class during the first and sixth periods. I showed up shortly before the day began at 8 to find that the teacher I usually work with wasn't there, and the sub didn't need me. So I waited around until sixth period, the second half of a double period. The teacher went about fifteen minutes over into my period finishing up a film, so I did an activity with the kids that lasted about half an hour.

Wednesday: I usually do a team-teaching activity for two periods with the seventh grade teacher. When I showed up, though, she said that she wanted to review some grammar with them that day and didn't need me. I went home.

Thursday: Again, I usually have two periods in the morning, but today the students were taking a test, so I didn't have to come.

And Fridays I always have off.

So I worked for a grand total of half an hour this week. If you consider that my stipend is 703 euros a month, that means I was paid about 175 euros this week for 30 minutes of work. If someone were to do a study of waste of taxpayer money, I feel like my situation is an expose waiting to happen.

Ugh. At least I'll be done in a month.