Swedish Immersion
It's been a while since my last blog post. I've been busy undergoing Swedish immersion. Cultural and linguistic. I thought I was fluent when I arrived in July, but was not at all. One thing I've learned is a new phrase to describe the spring weather, as taught to me by my 7-year old neighbor, Joel.
"Det är bus väder," he says sagely.
It sounds so much cuter in Swedish than English and describes this season of unpredictable change perfectly. It's impossible to know what's happening next. One day the sun is shining and the spring birds are back, the next it's -5 degrees C and there's ice on the road again. "It is mischievous weather," alright, and many people are sick.
Since I last posted in my blog I've had a nice little trip to Stockholm, a sauna with my neighbors Joel's parents, during which we really did run outside into the snow to cool down! Here's a photo of the newly renovated and reopened National Museum in Stockholm, I'll skip the sauna shots:
I've attended a Johnny Cash tribute concert in a church in Skärskind, a small hamlet with a huge church that lies equidistant between Linköping, Norrköping and Söderköping and was built in 1855.
I've had a visit from my childhood friend Anna, with whom I hiked 225 k of the French part of the Camino de Santiago from Le Puy en Velay to Conques in the summer of 2016. Anna grew up in Norrköping and has lived in Paris for the past twenty years or so. It's a strange irony that I grew up in England and now live here and she grew up here and now lives in France! C'est la vie!
When I think about it, it's not just the weather that's playing tricks on us
right now. What on earth is going on with the world? You only have to look
at the three countries I have been lucky enough to call home at one time or
another to realize we are in pretty uncharted territory.
No need to mention what's upsetting people in England at the moment. It's March, and it's the B-word that's driving everyone mad. Everyone is sick and tired of hearing about it in the news and yet simultaneously wants to know what on earth will happen when, and if, England eventually leaves the European Union. It's quite entertaining hearing the Swedish commentators grow more and more exasperated by the day as they attempt to report on Brexit. They clearly find the British dithering hard to stomach. "If only the Brits would pull themselves together and learn consensus politics like us," seems to be the unspoken condemnation of the current state of affairs in Blighty.
In the USA it's the T-word, and everything associated with the President. Enough said.
In Sweden it's budget cuts. Cuts in education, cuts in healthcare. But Swedes seem to accept it with a quiet stoicism, no yellow vest movement here. Schools like the one where I teach do their best to educate, or at least occupy, a large number of students from a diversity of cultures on a budget, but it 'aint easy.
My assistant in the art classroom, the wonderfully cheery and ever helpful Timo, has gone. A victim of the budget cuts. Norrköpings Kommun can apparently no longer afford to keep his position on and I am left alone with 25 to 27 multi-lingual students in each class.
When people ask how it's going I answer that, much like the weather, it really depends on the day. Last Friday the first class of the day started well. The son of one of the school Principals who has been working at the school in his gap year before taking off on some round the world travels came in to the classroom. This is always good, he's young enough to be somewhat on the students' wavelength and old enough to know better and point those that stray in the right direction. The students look up to him and respect him, it's great having him around.
Everyone listened as I outlined the lesson plan for the day and then most students got working in their groups on the models they are making for a claymation film project. The school received funding from an organization called "Skapande Skolan," "The Creative School," some of which has been used to pay for an expert to come in and teach animation. Some groups are more focused and hardworking than others but in general I felt the lesson was going well.
Then five minutes before the end of class I announced it was time to start cleaning up. They know the drill by now. Put all your figures on a tray marked with the names of the students in your group and place inside a large plastic bag together with any background paintings and other paperwork pertaining to your group's film.
At this point two guys who had been relatively, and unusually calm and low key during the class, with the exception of recording the sound of their own voices over another group's film, started barging around the room. They made a beeline for another guy who had transferred away from their group to another group, as if to re-absorb him back into their sphere of influence. I headed them off at the pass and suggested that since they were done they could leave for the day. This suggestion was not well received and they continued on their mission. Things started to get loud and heated at the table where they were now busy "discussing" something with their latter day group member. When I again asked them to leave they became angry. Why should they leave? they demanded. Because the lesson was over and they had no other business in the classroom I replied. "Racist!" they yelled, "Don't touch me, racist!"
This is the insult par excellance in Sweden. I think most people would prefer almost any other rude word to be hurled at them than "racist." A book I am reading has an interesting take on this. "Sweden's Dark Soul: The Unravelling of a Utopia" by Kajsa Norman argues that a dislike, suspicion and even contempt for the non-Swedish runs very deep in Swedish culture, but that it is hidden beneath a politically correct surface on which other cultures are examined and inevitably found wanting. Needless to say it's a controversial book and it hasn't yet been published in Swedish. Do all cultures and nationalities secretly believe themselves to be the best?
In my teaching I have spent the past two months alternating between small breakthroughs and larger defeats. It's a matter of two steps forward and one step back. Or maybe one step forward and two steps back. I'm not sure which anymore but sadly all it takes is one seriously disruptive student to destroy the peace and opportunity to learn for the quiet majority. Invariably this happens at sometime in each of the 14 classes per week that I teach and at the time of writing this is beginning to get old.
To end this post, a photo of Gaia in all her glory, a view that I never tire of:
"Det är bus väder," he says sagely.
It sounds so much cuter in Swedish than English and describes this season of unpredictable change perfectly. It's impossible to know what's happening next. One day the sun is shining and the spring birds are back, the next it's -5 degrees C and there's ice on the road again. "It is mischievous weather," alright, and many people are sick.
Since I last posted in my blog I've had a nice little trip to Stockholm, a sauna with my neighbors Joel's parents, during which we really did run outside into the snow to cool down! Here's a photo of the newly renovated and reopened National Museum in Stockholm, I'll skip the sauna shots:
No need to mention what's upsetting people in England at the moment. It's March, and it's the B-word that's driving everyone mad. Everyone is sick and tired of hearing about it in the news and yet simultaneously wants to know what on earth will happen when, and if, England eventually leaves the European Union. It's quite entertaining hearing the Swedish commentators grow more and more exasperated by the day as they attempt to report on Brexit. They clearly find the British dithering hard to stomach. "If only the Brits would pull themselves together and learn consensus politics like us," seems to be the unspoken condemnation of the current state of affairs in Blighty.
In the USA it's the T-word, and everything associated with the President. Enough said.
In Sweden it's budget cuts. Cuts in education, cuts in healthcare. But Swedes seem to accept it with a quiet stoicism, no yellow vest movement here. Schools like the one where I teach do their best to educate, or at least occupy, a large number of students from a diversity of cultures on a budget, but it 'aint easy.
My assistant in the art classroom, the wonderfully cheery and ever helpful Timo, has gone. A victim of the budget cuts. Norrköpings Kommun can apparently no longer afford to keep his position on and I am left alone with 25 to 27 multi-lingual students in each class.
When people ask how it's going I answer that, much like the weather, it really depends on the day. Last Friday the first class of the day started well. The son of one of the school Principals who has been working at the school in his gap year before taking off on some round the world travels came in to the classroom. This is always good, he's young enough to be somewhat on the students' wavelength and old enough to know better and point those that stray in the right direction. The students look up to him and respect him, it's great having him around.
Everyone listened as I outlined the lesson plan for the day and then most students got working in their groups on the models they are making for a claymation film project. The school received funding from an organization called "Skapande Skolan," "The Creative School," some of which has been used to pay for an expert to come in and teach animation. Some groups are more focused and hardworking than others but in general I felt the lesson was going well.
Then five minutes before the end of class I announced it was time to start cleaning up. They know the drill by now. Put all your figures on a tray marked with the names of the students in your group and place inside a large plastic bag together with any background paintings and other paperwork pertaining to your group's film.
At this point two guys who had been relatively, and unusually calm and low key during the class, with the exception of recording the sound of their own voices over another group's film, started barging around the room. They made a beeline for another guy who had transferred away from their group to another group, as if to re-absorb him back into their sphere of influence. I headed them off at the pass and suggested that since they were done they could leave for the day. This suggestion was not well received and they continued on their mission. Things started to get loud and heated at the table where they were now busy "discussing" something with their latter day group member. When I again asked them to leave they became angry. Why should they leave? they demanded. Because the lesson was over and they had no other business in the classroom I replied. "Racist!" they yelled, "Don't touch me, racist!"
This is the insult par excellance in Sweden. I think most people would prefer almost any other rude word to be hurled at them than "racist." A book I am reading has an interesting take on this. "Sweden's Dark Soul: The Unravelling of a Utopia" by Kajsa Norman argues that a dislike, suspicion and even contempt for the non-Swedish runs very deep in Swedish culture, but that it is hidden beneath a politically correct surface on which other cultures are examined and inevitably found wanting. Needless to say it's a controversial book and it hasn't yet been published in Swedish. Do all cultures and nationalities secretly believe themselves to be the best?
In my teaching I have spent the past two months alternating between small breakthroughs and larger defeats. It's a matter of two steps forward and one step back. Or maybe one step forward and two steps back. I'm not sure which anymore but sadly all it takes is one seriously disruptive student to destroy the peace and opportunity to learn for the quiet majority. Invariably this happens at sometime in each of the 14 classes per week that I teach and at the time of writing this is beginning to get old.
To end this post, a photo of Gaia in all her glory, a view that I never tire of:
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