Warning: Pettiness Ahead

It's true, what I have to say is petty.

Like groups of people everywhere, a handful of my students (all male) like to taunt. The taunt whoever they can. I am American, and prominent in the community. I'm an easy target. What they don't know is I'm an even easier target since my background includes being bullied for this same reason for some years in school.

Last year, weird catcalls from these boys at my school were so reminiscent that my first experiences with Moldovan culture were easily subsumed by self-doubt, fear, lack of control. I won't explain further, but these are emotions that would not have existed if such interactions hadn't been forced.

Thanks to my patient mother, many of those issues were conquered this past summer without a large expenditure of money on psychoanalysis. Shock of shock, Sir Freud, one can deal with one's own problems.

Otherwise, of course I know both Romanian and Russian better than this time last year. I have a third partner, who I taught with for the first time today--she is wonderful. All our classes are cut in half. I work fewer hours. I know what projects to pursue and how to pursue them. I buy my own cheese and alcohol, and have learned to say "no" to hospitality I simply cannot accept. The problems I encountered last September are all but gone.

Walking home today, I needed to buy tissues. The magazin on my way home had a hoard of these boys hunching around in a proto-Man Huddle. They weren't drunk, but that's only because even the shopkeepers won't sell alcohol to 6th graders. Two years, though. It'll be different.

One shouted my name as soon as I was in earshot. I didn't break stride. Walked up.

Erika (in English): yes? what?

Boy: ...

Erika (in Romanian, village dialect): what do you want? Is the store closed? I'm so proud you can pronounce my name in your language.

Boy: ...

Boy 2 (Romanian): She said she would be a minute.

Erika (clean Romanian): Thank you, no worries. I will see you tomorrow.

Boy 3 (English): Miss Erika! (said strutting around a corner)

I walked off home.

Boy 3, is their ringleader. I'm sure if he had been a part of the group originally, this would have gone differently, but as it stands. I count it a victory.