Queen Bee buzzes in!

It's true! Queen Beatrice of the Netherlands was in BA this week. I know so because last Monday there was a 20 foot high obelisk made out of orange and white tulips placed on my square in her honor. Her majesty had given Bratislava 10,000 tulip bulbs and the tulip tower remained there for the duration of her visit. While walking through the square last Tuesday evening, I noticed that we had literally rolled out the red carpet for her at the National Theater. There were six flags of the Netherlands flying outside of the building, and I imagine she was going to attend an opera or ballet, seated in the special box reserved for dignitaries.

I had been on my way to Larry Silverman's place to attend an American Embassy sponsored BBQ honoring outgoing and incoming Fulbrighters, American and Slovak. Janeil and Jon B. have already left the country. Jennifer, Andy and Chuck were all traveling, Julie is out of town with the Roma and Josh is too far away to attend a week night affair. Mark and Betsy came in from Nitra with daughter Zofia, who, at 5 months, has more hair than I! Mike, Kathy, Jon C., Nicole and I completed the American Fulbright group. We had a chance to talk to the Slovak Fulbrighters, including the two exchange teachers for next year. I was especially interested in meeting Barbora, the art teacher who would go to New Jersey. Her American partner, Jessica, had located me through my blog, and been corresponding with me to learn more about BA. It was so interesting to be talking to people with their entire exchange ahead of them, with all of the excitement and unknowns yet to unfurl. And our group, on the other hand, is wrapping up the experience. Our mode right now is a frantic countdown: we're trying to get everything finished on that "to-do" list, both at school and away. Meanwhile Jon, Nicole and I have five more weeks of class so there is limited time and lots of to-do's.

On my list were school visits. I will head to Matky Alexie next week, a Catholic 8-year gymnazium in my neighborhood. I set this observation up in person (not the best way) when I noticed the school as I was just beginning a run. I didn't look TOO grubby, so I went in and with the help of a senior arranged a date. Yes, you can come to observe, said the administrator, but no, there are no positions available. Fine, I assured her I was not Slovak job hunting and just wanted a look-see.

A far better way to arrange such observations is to have your director contact the school and this is what we did when I visited the Sportove Gymnazium last week. When I learned that there are Sports Schools in Slovakia, I thought it would be interesting to do an observation at one of them. I mentioned this to Hanka, and she said there was one in BA right in our neighborhood and director Myka would arrange it.

Hanka printed out directions; it seemed easy to find as it was just 4 tram stops down and a short walk. "Look for the playing fields" she said, and so I did. The fields were behind the school but the first thing I saw as I made my way from the tram stop. And the fields were full of students of all ages: it looked like the entire school was at recess. I found an entrance and the guard found me. No one spoke english and I was escorted to the office where I was curtly asked, "What do you want here?" I explained about the observation; she said there was no such thing. We tried again and soon discovered I was at the wrong school! The Sports School was next door, and as they both looked alike with no names posted, it was impossible to tell which was which. After giving me directions, the adminsistrator asked ME to come observe THERE at the public school and maybe even teach "but there is no money". She took my name and e-mail but I haven't heard; maybe she just did it to save face after nearly kicking me out of her school.

Always good to be early, because after that episode I was now just on time! I got buzzed into the correct school and looked over all hype in the corridor while waiting for Vladimir Miller (!), the Head Master. Vladimir shook my hand, and shook and shook, until we were holding hands walking down the corridor. He is a very warm person, obviously accustomed to the p.r. part of his job, and was a terrific interview. We began by looking at the photos of the 10 most outstanding seniors and all the print displays. I saw athletes who were kayakers, skiers, and soccer players. Other sports represented were cycling, volleyball, tennis, judo, track & field and gymnastics. Valdimir was obviously very proud that in the 14 short years that Slovakia has been a country, 18 of their Olympic medals have been connected with this particular school, one of eight in the country. While this display was informative, what I didn't see were the students.

We went to Vladimir's huge office which held two immense conference tables, each completely covered will multiple stacks of papers. Sitting on couches set to the side, we had coffee and he explained the schedule. Students train twice a day, mornings from 8-9:30, then attend classes from 10:30-4:30, followed by a second training session. Most training occurs off-campus and in fact the school has only one gym which I never did see. He employs 23 coaches who are not teachers, to work with his students. Many students typically miss blocks of time for training and/or competition. An extreme example was one of their elite level tennis players who was out of the country 10 months last year. As my "observation" was mid-day, I basically got to to see the inside of Vladimir's office.

Soon Ludmilla joined us and helped with translating. Although Vladimir's english was quite good, it was really a bonus to have her with us. She had been a former student of Vladimir's, had taught physical education, but now only taught english at the Sports School. She explained that sometimes she has only 2-3 sudents in the classroom, but is still reponsible for coordinating the lessons of all her students. Slovaks call this consultation; it sounds very much like internet classes.

Prospective students sit for academic entrance exams, have a psychological test, skills and fitness evaluations and a medical examination. (Students must have absolutely no physical problems.) Although this is a state school, parents do pay some nominal fees but nothing close to private school tuition. "Does everyone who attends your school have ambitions of being a world class athlete?" I asked. Vladimir shook his head and replied ruefully, "No, but their parents do." This is an 8-year school, grades 5-12; not so easy to commit to the white water, for example, when you're only 10. It would be interesting to read statistics about longevity at such schools, but we didn't get that in depth.

Vladimir himself teaches a course about sport training. When gymnazium students are seniors and sit for exams they can take a Level III test in physical education. This compentency allows them to receive certification to coach young children, but it is limited and not as involved as the Level I certification available with a University diploma.

So not only was there no physical education to observe, there was no physical education, period. We talked a bit about the status of p.e. in the country; both verified my conclusions that it remains a second-tier discipline, as they say over here. Ludmilla said she was "out to change the world" when she first began to teach, but soon became too frustrated with the circumstances to continue. They both spoke about Slovakia's increasing obesity (People say, "getting like Americans"; now isn't that a sad commentary?) Slovaks have more sedentary lifestyles now, and there is a MacDonald's right next to the 200 year old Slovak Pub. Additionally, health care can't keep up and health education is woefully lacking. It's not surprising, then, that physical education is never graded, most view it as optional, and is the first program to be cut when funds are restricted. But physical education remains a skill-based subject, lacking the same emphasis as our attempt in the states to promote lifetime fitness. I just learned that skill tests are given in four different sports in order to gain entrance to University here; I'd probably have been a wash-out.

Vladimir holds the position of VP of the Slovak Olympic Committee, and had been involved with coaching Olympic Pentathlon. We exchanged some Olympic stories and he talked about his first opportunity to be trading pins in the Montreal 1976 Olympics. He told of the time a black athlete approached him to offer a trade, but the pin was not an Olympic one. He said he was only interested in trading Olympic pins, to which she shouted, "What do mean you don't want my pin? Don't you know me, I'm Venus Willams?!" Cameras flashed (pre-digital, imagine that), crowds formed, and yes, he traded pins.

So Vladimir sent me on my way with swag: a small, fringed, satin Slovak Olympic banner and an assortment of Olympic stickers which I've given to the teachers at school. He was so accomodating and had just offered to drive me back to school, when Slovak Radio called wanting a piece of his time. I easily returned on my own, passing the adjacent "wrong school" on my way out. This time the fields were empty save for a p.e. class way off on the other side. I conducted a distance surveilance of a class I would guess to be about 10-11 year olds. They appeared to do a version of Sophie's infamous Sokol: head circles, arm circles, knee lifts, on and on it seemed to go. Finally, they were allowed to run around the area clockwise, the wrong direction in my American mind. Always front and center was one girl - isn't there always one? - in a red sweat shirt. Then the students (guess who was first) lined up behind the teacher who did a right face, walked 4 or 5 paces and stopped her army. At this point I could suddenly pick out the boys because they were doing everything BUT marching to her Slovak beat, falling all over and generally messing around. She threw a small rubber ball to each kid, red sweat shirt getting the first one. Maybe the fun was about to begin but as I could stay no longer, I ended my stalking and caught the next tram.

Back at school, many were interested in hearing about my visit. Although Sport Schools are widely known, no one seemed to be informed about how they operate, so for once I had some Slovak information to share. I told Hanka about going to the wrong school and that I had observed what seemed to be the entire student body at recess. She said that was probably right; that's the way it is usually done in all public schools, uniformly on the same schedule, same texts, same curriculum, etc. Everyone has a short, late morning break and then dismissal at 1:30!

Sports Schools have been around for awhile, beginning from when Czechoslovakia was a country. Now Czech Republic retains theirs in the same way Slovakia does. I don't agree with this philosophy, but as I've said their physical education greatly differs from ours. (This from someone who taught Capture the Flag last week; a big hit!) Additionally, schools are not filled with clubs, teams and marching bands, etc. so recruitment is different. The pathway to the elite level in a small country like Slovakia, therefore, is often through one of its Sports Schools. When I told Jozko about Vladimir Miller, he was already well-informed about him. It seems that Vladimir is also the step-son of the President of the Czech Republic. No wonder he's such a capable diplomat!

Bratislava For All!

I know, if you're a faithful reader, you're going, "Hey, what about Istanbul?" Yes, I'll get get to it, promise. But recently I have had some quality time right here in BA and wanted to tell you about that first. And it all seemed to fit in with this past week-end which was Bratislava For All, where the doors of the city were literally opened wide: you could meet the mayor, visit the townhall, museums and zoo, all for free. In addition, there were numerous musical performances, also no charge. So this was a great time to be home.

Bratislava For All was scheduled for this past week-end because centuries ago, the burger allowed Bratislava to elect its own mayor and decreed that it should be on April 2, St. George's Day. Well, I didn't meet the mayor but I did meet Eva's husband, Alexander. (Eva is a colleague who teaches english). We drove out to her place, stopped for coffee and then went to an exercise class in her village after school on Friday. (aerobics, the universal language.) Eva showed me her digs and her dogs, including the four long-haired daschound puppies and I got my canine fix.

I love home construction, especially remodeling, and was very interested to see what they had done to their 40-year-old place. What hadn't they done? All new windows and doors, in and out, sidewalks, kennel, tile roof, floors, new kitchen and bath, changing doorways and repairing plaster and paint. Their home has a steep roofline with CONCRETE steps going up to the attic which they are presently remodeling. (The majority of homes are concrete block construction with stucco coating and tile roofs.) We ended the evening by watching Borak, after which Eva drove me back to town.

On Saturday I was invited for dinner to the flat of Jozka and Ewa, two teachers at our school. Both teach German and Jozka also teaches PE as well as chairs my department. Ewa (say Eva) gave me directions and said if I take the 1:08 bus I should be there about 1:30. 1:30?! Yes, that is not unusual for a dinner invitation, so I figured out the tram/bus connection and made it a point to be on time, if not early.

Ewa had prepared a table full of food including both traditional Polish and Slovak specialties. We had two different types of soups; spinach or chicken. To the chicken broth you add your own noodles. With the spinach you spoon in hard boiled eggs, a dish we have in the canteen but I'd never tried. It's actually a delicious combination. There was a pork roast made with plums, sausage wih cabbage, zucchini, eggplant, carrots, salad, rice, corn (always) and probably more that I can't remember. Oh yes, middle child Martin is a vegetarian so he got eggs. Youngest daughter, Danielle is a 4th year, and eldest daughter Andrea, soon to graduate high school helped with dinner and even more with translating.

Following dinner we looked at some family photos on the computer while we nibbled on desserts. Martin left to go to Vienna; cheaper to go there to get the best price on the soccer shoes he needed. We checked bus schedules on line and decided to go to Devin Castle ruins, about 5 minutes away. Jozka's family lives in Devinska Nova Ves, an area that used to be a village but is now incorporated into Bratislava. It is next to Kolyba, the sand dune I had hiked last month, just above the Danube and the bike paths that run parallel to it. Jozka is a certified tour guide, working during the summer months, and knows a lot about Bratislava. He told us that the bike paths were built upon the original soldier routes the communists would walk as they secured the border. During those 50 years of communism, no one ever saw this gorgeous area except the border patrol.

We enjoyed the afternoon walking through the castle ruins, parts of which are over one thousand years old. Devin Castle had been re-built and remodeled numerous times before it was finally blown up by Napoleon's army. Jozko also told me that Bratislava is the 30th most expensive city in Europe, a statistic that will probably continue to rise as the euro gets introduced in Sovakia next year.

Here are a few more BA stats I discovered on my own: Car manufacturers have been enticed to set up shop here, with Kia being the newest arrival. Volkswagon makes the majority of its SUV's here. The Toureg is finished here, and the Porsche Cayenne and Audi Q7 are partially built here. We're thirty-something, the average age being 38.7. Beethoven performed his Solemn High Mass here in Bratislava. (This is what I heard when I saw the Vienna Choir Boys last winter.) And Bratislava is a sister city to eighteen cities, including Vienna, Prague, and...Cleveland!

During our talk about Ewa's German side of the family, she told about how her mother's family was forced to leave Poland after WWII. Ewa's Polish father then illegally crossed the border into Germany to get his fiance and bring her back to Poland. Taking advantage of the distraction of someone else's crying infant, they were able to cross back into Poland where they subsequently married and raised their family. As Jozko says, "That's real love."

Jozko's owns a car but his sister had been using it to drive out to their mother's place to work in the garden. (It's very common for flat-dwellers to own small pieces of property with either a gardern shed or, fancier, a small chata (say hata but make the "h" sound down in your throat; means cottage). She picked us up and I was driven home sometime after eight, later than I expected, but happy to have had such a good visit with the family Marek. (But Ewa is Marakova.) Jozko and Ewa apologized for being so late in the school year to invite me, as they were completing some major renovation. I complimented them on the improvements; it really was a lovely flat. Jozko replied, "It is not important."

The next day was Sunday and Bratislava For All beckoned. I had heard about some folk dance/music entertainment planned for Partisans' Meadow "where inhabitants of Bratislava can convene for traditional entertainment", or so said the announcement. So, feeling very much like a comrade, I took a bus to Zelezna Studnicka (Forest Park) a huge forest preserve in the Little Carpathians. I had planned a hike that would finish up at the Meadow where I could have lunch and enjoy the performance.

I had been there last fall with Zuzka so parts of the area looks familiar, but hiking the trails (or tramping out in nature as they say here) put a new spin on things. I hiked a bit and soon came upon the bottom of the "summer" chair lift for hikers where for some reason you could ride down but not up. So...I hiked UP the hill and crested Koliba, the hilltop where they were holding a mountain bike race. All riders were out on the course so I kept going.

Close by is Kamzik, the TV transmitter tower and a landmark of the area. Up here are the plastic tobaggon runs I had seen dormant last fall but now were in operation. I was dying to try but would have had to abduct a child to get a ride, so on I tramped. I identified a red hiking trail (Remember I now know how to read trail signs.) and thought it would exit me in the general area of the Partisans' Meadow. Didn't see much wildlife that day, unless you count the kid (as in baby goat) I encountered on the trail. I cut across the forest following the trail, which sort of dried up and spit me out on the street hours later, way too tired to go back in and look for the entertainment on the meadow.

Out on the street but not the street I came in on, I was once again confused. Thankfully, it was also a bus line street, and a quick look at the schedules told me I could get to the train station and then take a tram home from there. (I have a 3-month transportation pass which allows me to use any tram, bus or trolley-bus in Zone 1, which is quite large. Most people like me get to know many different stops by name. As at Jozko's, we can also look online to easily read routes and times.) So I missed Bratislava For All, but eventually made it home a tired and well-exercised comrade.

Please execute my daughter...

As the PE excuse notes accumulate, I continue to require my students to translate them into english if the parent has written the excuse in slovak. Hence the latest gem written by a Prima (first year or 5th grader): "Please execute my daughter because she has been ill." Talk about tough love! "Oh, Barbora," I said, "do you know what you've written?" Friend Dominika understood and helped translate by making the "slit the throat" gesture across her neck. Actually if it had been written by a Quarta (fourth year or 8th grader) I probably WOULD have! All three of the Quarta classes I teach have severe cases of senioritis, compounded by hormones and 13-years-old attitude; they are troublesome to all their teachers, not just me. It appears that eighth graders act like, well, eighth graders, no matter where they go to school.

Last week-end was our last long week-end and a well-needed break for both teachers and students. Tuesday, May 8, was the actual holiday but I requested and received permission to take off Monday as a personal day. (I don't really think I have personal days but I didn't let that stop me.)

This allowed me to travel to Olomouc (say Olla-moats) in the Moravian region of Czech Republic, and support Fulbrighter Kat in her efforts to organize a 6K Fun Run. Kat is in public health and had previously lived and and studied in Olomouc some years before. Her Fulbright proposal involved drug prevention and this Fun Run was to be a culminating activity for her year here. Kat, herself, is an ultra-marathoner, has been working with agencies and not in schools like many of us.

As I often do, I went on line to read about Olomouc but as is also common I encountered some strangely translated information. Like "We prepare for you new webpage presently of UNESCO Czech Heritage Association. It would work in the beginning of year 2007. Actually in Czech version only." (May 3rd and it still wasn't working - in any language.) Elsewhere there was some historical background discussing the local trade issues in the 1300's stating "problems with Vietnamese merchants were not serious get." Non-functioning web sites and blaming the Vietnamese for Czech trade problems. Isn't the internet great?

Fulbrighter Jon and his colleague Amy joined me on the 3-hour train ride from Bratislava. Shelly came down from Decin and met Juliana in Prague, arriving shortly after us. Meg (a real runner) teaches in Olomouc so she was already there, and Ben arrived Saturday evening, missing the race but not the pub celebration.

Olomouc was having a theater week and Kat had picked up tickets for Dybbuk, a performance art piece set in a tent, reminding me of Cirque du Soleil. Well, maybe not so much, as the artist was a Russian dancer with a gymnast's body, but pre-Olga Korbut. Everyone had different takes on the show, but that's what made it interesting, and the music and lighting enhanced the piece. After that we all went our separate ways, planning to meet the next morning for the run.

Saturday dawned a dismal spring day, definitely taking some of the FUN out of the RUN. As it looked to be one of those days where the weather wasn't going to lift, no families came with children and who could blame them? The small group of participants were mainly people from local running clubs, including a female 94-year old former champion! We had taken a bus to the edge of town, driving up to Svaty Kopecek which Kat told me was owned by the Catholic Church. On the hillside sits the baroque church of the Visitation of the Virgin Mary. When Pope John Paul II rolled into town in 1995 he promoted the church to Minor Basilica (don't ask me) and also canonized Father John Sarkander, who had been tortured to death during the Thirty Years War which decimated Olomouc.

Because of the Church ownership Kat no difficulty in getting permission for her run, and no complications in dealing with municipalities because she really didn't have to. I told Kat I was expecting a jumbotron, gatorade and an inflatable start/finish line. Well, we had water, hard candy and someone's dog there for everyone's petting pleasure. NOT the Chicago Marathon, BUT the Olomouc 6K! (I never did find out why it was a 6K.)

The course was one of Kat's favorite runs: twisty, slightly hilly and deep in the woods. Routes had been marked earlier that morning; unfortunately MANY marks were all over the course: crepe paper, painted arrows, regular trail marks, etc. We had a rolling start and some of us (including guess who) managed to take a wrong fork, ending up going much further than planned. This seems to be a recurring theme for me. Hey, I get to see so much more this way! (And as far as I know the 94-year-old champ had no such difficulty!) Meg finished early (natch) and took us to see some monastic ruins in the area. Everyone had a great time, walking, running, 6K more or less. In leiu of an entrance fee we donated money to a special school in the area, and each left with a small ceramic horseshoe made by the students there.

We got back into town and after Kat told us about a Mexican restaurant, we decided to celebrate Cinco de Mayo, a weak excuse to have a bad margherita with lunch. I seem to remember words like interesting...and different... to describe our meals; and the salsa tasted like Ragu spaghetti sauce. One of the things I continue to miss is good mexican food! Later we re-convened at Kat's local pub for some good, cheap Czech beer, but only until 10:00 when the joint shut down.

Jon and Amy left Sunday morning and Kat spent the day with Juliana, Shelly and me, acting as our own personal tour guide. We walked the old town square, visited St. Wenceslas Cathedral, which eventually became an archbishopric in the 1700's. Olomouc at one time was the capital of Moravia before relinquishing that honor to Brno. The Modern Art Museum, surprisingly, held works by Klimt, Tiffany, Hoffman, Wagner, original Thonet furniture and a terrific Jindrich Streit b/w/photography exhibit.

Olomouc is a small university town; with a population of 100,000, it is 1/5 the size of "bustling" Bratislava. It is a town of fountains; we saw all six of them, each at the center of the various squares. Unlike most towns who removed their fountains when they installed water pipes, Olomouc kept them as reservoirs in case of fire. In fact, little Olomouc is the second largest historical monument preserve in the country after Prague, but has none of its tourists.

Olomouc has long had a German affiliation and at one time, re-named one of its squares after Adolf Hitler. The Czech residents changed the name again after the town was liberated. When the retreating German army passed through the town in the final weeks of the war, they opened fire on the town hall, destroying the old astronomical clock. It was re-built in the 1950's so what we saw was the proletarian version, which included a girl with a basketball under her arm, wearing, I'm pretty sure my old gym suit from St. Francis.

And their plague column is to die for. Really. The Holy Trinity Column is UNESCO-protected, huge and sculpted and you can go inside of it; a nun sits there and tells you all about it. Oh, yeah, and everyone seems to want to hop on the Sister City bandwagon. Olomouc has eight including Owensboro, Kentucky.

We all took trains the next morning, Juliana and Shelly to Prague, where Shelly could then continue home to Decin. I headed to Brno, this time, to visit another Fulbrighter and her family. I had booked a no-change train and was just settling in, most others having exited my compartment when the last traveler hoisted his backback and said something to me in Czech. Realizing I didn't understand him, he called the conductor over who kept saying "autobus" to which I kept replying, "I have to take a bus to Brno?" as if the more I said it, the more it would change the outcome. Talk about a conversation going nowhere...

Anyway, we all unboarded the train and stood together to wait for the bus. The conductor saw me and gave me the high sign as in, Yes, dear, you are indeed taking a bus AND standing in the correct line. We traveled 20 minutes on our bus and then re-boarded a very crowded train (there had been a rail problem) to get us into Brno only about 15 minutes late which I thought was remarkable.

Betsy met me and we went to her flat to meet her family and have some lunch. She, Bayrd and 9-year old Sophie live in a beautiful area, very hilly and at the edge of woods which she and Bayrd use for morning runs. Betsy also showed me their neighborhood pool which Bayrd has christened the "tuna tank". It seems many Czechs swim very creatively within the lane lines, seemingly unaware of others. Personal space is way different in Europe!

Betsy and Sophie had recently been to Bratislava and toured the town square, which they found to be much more interesting than Brno's. So Betsy's plan for the afternoon was to go to their reservoir, ferry up to some point and combine this with some hiking. (You know, tramping out in nature.) As the clouds and rain had moved out, replaced by a beautiful sunny day, this seemed like a great idea.

The ferry is set up so that it can make a number of stops along the reservoir, letting people out and on with the turn of a dockside sign that you pivot to indicate that the boat should stop. At some point we opted to get out so we could walk a bit, justifying a liquid break down the road. We hiked back on the other side of the water, sometimes walking through the rape seed fields and coming out all pollenated with the residue from the yellow blossoms. Rape seed is harvested to make both canola and benzine oils, and it looks like a blanket of gold covering the countryside.

As time was running out, we hopped a bus on the return to shorten our hike. Sophie and I sat and chatted as we watched others board the bus, including fishermen, archers and musicians. I have to say we had the best time, enjoying the area and each other's company. And if anyone out there is lucky enough to know Dirk, I've found his match. Sophie is an absolute delight and seems to be enjoying the year abroad. We were comparing PE, a favorite activity and she kept asking if I did Sokol with my students, referring to a traditional system for performing calesthenics. As you can imagine, Sophie did not exactly embrace Sokol, although she is one of the few girls in her class to participate regularly. Betsy and I had spoken about this last February and I mentioned it in a previous entry; things haven't changed since then.

Sokol is Czech for falcon, the symbol of the nationalistic organization founded in 1862 in the Czech lands which would later become Czechoslovakia, and now Czech Republic and Slovak Republic. It was dedicated to the development of physical fitness, and at that time consisted mostly of regimented gymnastics, exercises and calesthenics. It traveled stateside a few years later, brought over by Czech and Slovak immigrants. Sokol USA is a "fraternal organization serving its members with physical fitness programs, cultural activities and LIFE INSURANCE". Even now, these exercise routines are taught in private gyms throughout the country. Participants then come together for SokolFests (Cincinnati 2007!), huge exhibitions which showcase these routines performed by many groups according to ages, sort of like a family version of half-time at the Orange Bowl. (Everyone keeps his/her shirt on.)

That evening at the flat, Sophie entertained us by modeling her birthday present, a hand-sewn Czech folk dress. While Bayrd and I talked in the living room, Betsy helped Sophie get dressed next door in the bedroom. Starting with her special slip and a red bow in her hair, Sophie came running out to show us each layer. As a sewer I appreciated the fine work, and also the clever way that horizontal tucks were sewn into the skirts so they could eventually be let out to grow with Sophie. I'm not sure, but I'd guess she made at least six or seven appearances before the outfit was complete, including special hand-knit knee sox and pointy, tan leather lace up shoes. This was the summer version of the folk costume, but the outfit was incredibly heavy. One of her friends had taught her a folk dance, so Sophie finished the show by performing in front of a wildy appreciative audience.

Back at school the following week, we had the final ringing. The juniors prepare a special event for the seniors last morning at school. Each student is given a single flower and then the class visits the faculty offices to wish their thanks, say good bys, and unveil their class composite picture. This picture (about 30 x 48) then gets displayed in a local store window, with an internet competition for the "best photo display". Many of the students present their flowers to the teachers; my yoga kids thanked me for holding our optional class and gave me a tulip, which I found so touching. Then at the end the bell sounds for a full five minutes, marking their last bell ever for secondary school. We were in the gym at the time and not knowing about the custom, I thought it was a fire drill (If we've had one, I've not been there for it.) My class thought so too, but quickly returned to the non-burning gym because they wanted to finish their game! OK, it was vybijana (dodgeball), but, hey, they were invested!