Ice Ice Baby

It’s funny the opportunities that suddenly arise in your life when you move to a foreign country and your friends are teachers. Yesterday I went iceskating with a class of 11 and 12 year-olds. Barbara, the wife of the man who found us our jobs, apartment, etc. teaches English, Religion and Latin at the Gymnasium (German school for 11-19 year olds). She invited me along on her class’s fieldtrip, and having nothing but grad school applications planned for the day, I gladly accepted.

When she picked me up, she warned me that her daughter had told her friends that I was coming and could not speak any German so they were all very excited to use their English. At the beginning, they smiled shyly and kept to themselves. I skated around, reveling in the outdoor experience I had missed as a kid and listening to the appropriate Vanilla Ice jam playing overhead. After half an hour on the ice, one girl finally asked me what my name was. More time passed, then finally, as though choreographed, a group of almost 10 girls surrounded me and started asking questions, whatever introductory conversation they could think of. It was clear they’d been talking about me amongst themselves, trying to work up the nerve to approach me. They were awestruck when I said I was from California, and of course wanted to know if I’ve ever met anyone famous. Oh yes, all the time. The best may have been when they asked if I could speak German and wanted me to say something. It’s like Americans do to people whose native language is not English, but they wanted to hear their own language. I think they didn’t quite understand why someone would study German as a foreign language. I felt the same pressure of “what do you want me to say?” so I just told them I’d studied German for 6 years and could say a lot. They were impressed. Woot.

I felt pretty awesome, too, when Marie, the girl who first broke the ice, invited me to walk around the town square with her group of friends. She pretty much loved me. Gosh, I am awesome. I hit my peak in popularity around that age in school; I guess some things never change.

Other than that, I am looking forward to asking Barbara’s youngest kid, Josephina, about her boyfriend. My new best friends pointed him out on the ice rink. She’s really shy around me, so it ought to make for a great conversation. I think I’ll bring it up at the dinner table next time we’re over.