Since last Sunday, when the clocks fell back, the days seem impossibly short. By 4:00 every afternoon, I’m counting the hours before it is acceptable to go to sleep. The sun starts setting just before then, and it is dark by 5:00. This week has been a week of adjusting to this change, and I hope by next week I’ll be able to stay awake past 8:30 again.
Last Friday, one of my classes had their Stuzkova. In case you’ve forgotten, Stuzkova is an event celebrating the graduation of the final year students. They translate it as prom, which in a way makes sense, but it is nothing like the proms in the US. This particular Stuzkova was for my favorite group of students, 4A. These students are all so nice, honest, sweet and simply happy. Though they aren’t all shockingly intelligent, many of them seem to have a goodness that cannot be learned. Last year I liked all of my students and I mostly enjoyed their Stuzkovas, but the truth is, I didn’t really know the students that well. This year, it was so much more enjoyable because I felt like I knew most of the students. They weren’t just Barbies in their multi-colored dresses with big hair and even bigger heals, it was Lenka and Nika and Barbora dressed in their idea of beauty. And the “program” which the students did wasn’t at all perfect… but it was unmistakably evident that they were having fun and enjoying their own performance, which is a beautiful thing to see.
Despite this, there was about twenty minutes that felt absolutely surreal to me. And I think it’s quite hard to describe unless you know what it’s like to be a foreigner or unless you know anything about Slovaks and their culture. At the Stuzkova, all of the students walk in very regally, accompanied by an epic song, looking very poised and proud. After they walk in, they are each pinned with their stuzkova—a green ribbon that is given to every student in their final year. They are all called by name, pinned, and then they come in front of the whole audience and give a proud bow or curtsy. Then they take an aperitif and hold it, wait for the rest of the class to be pinned, and then many people come up to give speeches. First it was the director of the school. She gave a speech that I didn’t understand, and some students started to get a bit choked up. Then one of the students came to give a speech, and many of the girls in the class were extremely emotional… but I had no idea why because I didn’t really understand everything in the speech. And then, while I was in a daze of confusion, one of the girls collapsed—breaking her glass, cutting her hand, and dripping blood on her white dress. She had merely fainted, but there was a hushed panic and she was quietly walked to the bathroom and then the speeches continued and the ceremony went on… without an “formal” acknowledgement of her collapse.
Perhaps this doesn’t sound so bizarre. But for me, it was completely surreal. It was so strange to personally feel purely apathetic to the speeches when I saw my students feel deeply affected. And then, when I saw something that truly and deeply alarmed me… one of my students shaking on the floor with blood on her beautiful white dress… there was simply a hush and a swift movement to remove the interruption to the program. I am sure that if I had a better understanding of Slovak that I would have better understood everything that was happening. But as a more-or-less dumb and neutral observer, I felt so disturbed by the series of events.
After the Stuzkova on Friday, I took a train on Saturday to see a friend in Liptovsky Mikulas. It was nice to share some meals with her, to catch up on our lives and the maturation that had occurred since we last met. On Sunday, we took a beautiful hike in the Low Tatras. The weather was perfect and epitomized everything I love about fall. The air was fresh, the trees were turning, the sun was shining low in the sky, and we could hear the leaves crunch underneath our boots.
Though the stay in Liptovsky Mikulas was short, it was a needed break from my routine in Kosice. Then, this week, I’ve been enjoying the company of my friend Val and her boyfriend, “Fabio,” who is visiting from Paris. Together we’ve been sharing meals… beautiful French meals with French cheese, learning useful French phrases like “move your ass fat cow.” So far, it’s been a good week. But with each passing day, the truth is that I am looking more and more forward to returning home. Not because I miss my friends and my family, not because I miss all of the comforts of my life in Minnesota, but because I feel like it’s becoming time to close this chapter in my life. Of course I miss things about Minnesota, but this isn’t really a motivator. I simply feel like it is the right time.
Until next week.
