Leaving

    Two years ago, I had never lived outside of Ohio and I had never left the United States before. Teaching English in Erlangen has transformed my life. Throughout the past two years, I’ve changed in big ways, such as being more confident and adaptable, and also small ways, like cultivating a finer appreciation for German bread. In particular, I feel lucky to have been at a school that values the arts, that trusted me enough to start and lead the Creative Writing Club, that continuously supported me, and that welcomed and treated me so well. Although I am returning to the United States for now, this is not a permanent departure. Erlangen has become my second home, and I’ll know in my heart that I’ll be back again someday.

    I am endlessly grateful to have had this chance to live and work abroad. Not only have I grown professionally and personally, but I have made incredible connections with friends, colleagues, students, community members, neighbors, and more. These memories of teaching classes, visiting local festivals like the Bergkirchweih and Oktoberfest, hiking through the Fränkische Schweiz (Franconian mountains), eating Raclette instead of turkey for Thanksgiving, visiting new countries, translating for my American friends and family members, and so much more will stay with me forever. Learning is a tremendous gift, and moving to a foreign country has given me the opportunity to learn about myself and the world around me. I wish every person could have an experience like this: a chance to take a risk, be challenged, make mistakes, and grow. Every person deserves an opportunity to meet others unlike themselves, to learn about another part of the world, or to experience a place different from their own. Language is a wonderful tool that connects us to each other and opens doors to new parts of the world. Step outside of your comfort zone: it will have enormous positive results.

    Maya Angelou said, “People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” For my students, I want them to feel positively when they think about our time together learning English. I want them to look back and remember feeling comfortable, seen, and valued in the classroom. Like my own German professor who inspired me, I hope I made a good impact here. Finally, I want to leave my students with one final lesson: you are capable of doing great things. Never stop learning.

    From the bottom of my heart, thank you, Germany.

Heimat: Ode to Home

  When I first arrived in Germany, I had stars in my eyes. Everything sparkled with excitement and newness. That first month was the honeymoon phase. I’d finally achieved this long-held dream. I made it.

  Catching COVID in October and being forced to lie in bed for a week, among other things, weakened the world’s rosy tint and brought me closer to reality. The flaws and challenges of life here presented themselves with growing prevalence. This was also the period when I made new friends and began establishing more connections with the people around me. The roads made more sense, I memorized the bus numbers and routes I needed, and I could navigate through the city. All these factors and more grounded me, and I began to adopt the mindset of a resident rather than a tourist.

  German winters are brutal. They’re long, and cold, and grey, and the daylight hours are short. Last year, the week following my trip home for Christmas was tough. This year, practically the entire winter season was hard. My mood has always been moderately affected by the weather, as we all are, but the dip I felt this past winter was unprecedented. I’m someone who thrives in the sun but burns easily. 

  At some point in the late winter or early spring last year, life felt normal. I no longer felt like “an American living in Germany”. I felt like somebody doing a great job in a special place. Erlangen, in particular, became a refuge, a place to breathe deeply and relax my shoulders after weekends spent gallivanting. Yes, it’s still Germany, but it also simply became the place I live. A second home. Warm. Comfortable. Less sparkly.

  Year two increased this feeling tenfold. I adapted. So much so that occasionally, I lost sight of the magic of this experience. I forgot that this is temporary. In a sense, this perspective could be viewed as a sign of integration or belonging. Am I better integrated now than I was at the beginning? Auf jeden Fall. Do I feel like I belong? Well, that’s another conversation. 

  I think I've grown to play an integral role at my schools, in community groups, and with my friends. There’s something wonderful about being included. At school, I am a teacher among teachers. I am in the yearbook. I have my own key, my own code for the printer, and my own spot in the Lehrerzimmer. I lead the Creative Writing Club. When students see me in public, they wave and say, “Hallo Mrs. Schneider!!” (Since Fräulein has fallen out of use and all female teachers go by Frau, the students have no concept of Mrs. vs Miss/Ms. and, as a result, almost always call me Mrs. Schneider. I’m fine with it. I prefer language that doesn’t differentiate how you address someone based on marital status.) To be part of something, to be accepted, it’s indescribable. 

  As the number of months remaining ticked down to three, I hit a second wind. As of late, my energy’s risen, I’m socializing more, and I’m prioritizing fun again. Suddenly, my body remembered: this is definite, not infinite. February melted into March, stomped over, picked me up, and bellowed, “TIME IS RUNNING OUT!” 

  Twenty-two-year-old Julia would have claimed blasphemy for this, but part of me is happy to be home soon. I love the life I’ve built, but I also miss my family. I love this second home, but I miss my original one too. Both desires coexist: the appreciation of now and the anticipation of the future.

  Do I think I will move back home and stay in Ohio the rest of my life? No. Am I currently looking for long-term jobs in Germany to extend my stay? Also no. What I need is some time sitting with my family at the dining room table playing board games. Calvin on my lap, Tom Petty's music in the air, and time to decide.

What Comes Next?

 "Either you know what you want and then you don't get what you want, or you get what you want and then you don't know what you want." — Bojack Horseman: Season 1, Episode 12

        As an anxious, ambitious overachiever, my perspective has always been future-oriented. For as long as I can remember, the horizon has attracted me. The possibilities, the opportunities, my own potential, all these factors have made me open, eager, and optimistic about what comes next. Exploring the United Nations website, writing applications, and scrolling through LinkedIn can be thrilling (yes, really). Even when I have doubted myself or battled imposter syndrome, I’ve generally felt assured about the future and my ability to carve a path to my liking. 
Now, for perhaps the first time in my life, I do not have a solid plan for what comes next. There are plenty of ideas swirling through my mind–grad school? International relations? Diplomacy? Museum work? Travel and tourism? Moving to a cabin in the middle of the mountains with a boat in the nearby lake and a job at the local cat café?--and, surprisingly, I am becoming more okay with uncertainty. Though contrary to my nature, I am trying to accept and comfortably reside in this liminal space.
When we look ahead, we can forget what directly surrounds us. I know that my days as a foreign language assistant in Erlangen are numbered. Fulbright, by design, cannot last forever. Until the end, I intend to spend this time living in the present. I must enjoy what I have now before I look back and reminisce on it as “the good old days”. 
For now, I am excited for the future, but I will not forego the present in search of it.

Imperfect

  

         Before Fulbright, I applied to the PeaceCorps. I had dreams of going someplace distant and doing something good. Now, I’m living a version of the dream that’s always been inside me. I’m grateful for that and I’m usually happy. 

            In the past, each time I applied for fantastic opportunities, I did it from the comfort of my home state. It’s easy to fall in love with the horizon when you have unwavering love and support at your side. 

           Dreams change and people change. When I returned to the United States for the summer, seeing a therapist was one of my top priorities. I needed to be honest with somebody other than myself or my journal. Though it took time, I was able to admit and accept that I’m not as strong of a person as I thought I would be. Yes, I loved my first year (otherwise, I would not have returned for a second year), but I also struggled with loneliness and depression. There were moments I felt on top of the world, like when I hiked through the Swiss mountains with friends and gazed over the most beautiful landscapes I’d ever seen, wanting this experience to last forever. There were also Saturdays when I would sleep in until noon and spend hours more lying in bed, cursing myself for wasting time but being unable to move. 

           In this past year and a half, I have developed into a new version of myself: an independent, capable adult. At times, I feel so separated from who I was before that I’m looking at my past through cellophane, a separate lifetime. However, Fulbright has also taught me that I am, in some ways, weak. When my boyfriend dropped me off at the airport last December to fly home, I cried in his arms. After my family visited me last spring, I remember looking in the sky at each plane that flew overhead, wondering if it was theirs and willing it to come back. I am glad my path diverged from the PeaceCorps, because now I know how naïve and unprepared I would have been in the face of the real, enormous challenges an experience like that presents.

             At my final therapy session this summer, I admitted that I feared my happiest days were already behind me, that what lay ahead would never surpass what I’d already lived. My greatest shame is admitting that my time in Germany hasn’t been perfect. I didn’t want to let people down by posting anything negative, but I also couldn’t lie to myself. Holding this in has perhaps stopped me from being able to write, and now that it’s out, maybe I can fully embrace the little joys of life again, because there is so much of it. There is the English Creative Writing Club, which has made Thursdays my favorite day of the week. There are my intelligent, curious, sometimes overly-enthusiastic students, who give me energy and inspire me to be a better teacher. There are all the wonderful opportunities, sights, and experiences that I would not have had if I stayed in the United States, which continue to motivate me to enjoy each day. There are my friends, whose support has kept me going through the darker days. Finally, of course, there’s my family, without whom I would never have had the strength to leave. A mama bird’s greatest, most painful accomplishment is giving her chicks the ability to fly away. I’m so lucky to know that no matter where my wings take me, I can always return to the nest. 

           I’m in a much better, more balanced headspace now, which is how I’m able to be honest about this. Here’s to continuing to fly high, and to getting back up when the wind knocks you down.

Creative Writing Club

             Haikus, nonfiction, poems, romance, letters, any genre–these young writers can do it all!

On Tuesday, March 14th, a group of talented students gathered for the first meeting of Christian-Ernst-Gymnasium’s new English Creative Writing Club. Led by me, this club gathered weekly to learn how to write creatively in English, explore new writing techniques, reflect on themselves and their experiences, and simply make new friends and have casual conversations in English. This group gave students the opportunity to write without fear of being graded, criticized, or judged. 

Each meeting began with five minutes of free writing on any subject in any format. During this time, the students could write whatever they desired without any requirement of sharing it. This weekly ritual helped them relax and enter the right headspace, or the “writing zone.” Then for the next ten minutes, they engaged in a discussion, writing exercise, or game. Next, the weekly topic was introduced, such as nonfiction writing, dialogue, writing body language, poetry, haikus, and romance. The remainder of the meeting was spent learning and practicing it. No matter what theme was presented to them, these students overcame every challenge and adopted new styles with ease. By the club’s final meeting, they even created a collaborative book featuring a piece of writing from each member.

I feel so lucky to be at a school that values the arts so highly and that has enough trust in me to start and lead a club alone during my very first year. These students repeatedly amazed me with their creativity, intelligence, confidence, and communication skills. Hearing their thoughts inspired me as a teacher and a fellow writer. Whether through the written or spoken word, their eloquence, thoughtfulness, and growth throughout the semester are all clear. What particularly impressed me was the fact that there was no attendance requirement, no extra credit, no outside incentive, yet they still came. I am so proud of them and everything they have accomplished. I hope we can continue this extraordinary club when I return to Germany in the fall!

The Domino Effect

“I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”

–Maya Angelou

For the past few days, I have been writing, rewriting, editing, deleting, oscillating between my journal and my laptop, attempting to parse through these fragmented thoughts in my mind. In many ways, this is a letter to a stranger, an ode to someone I knew for barely a year who probably would not recognize me if I shook her hand and re-introduced myself. Nevertheless, I feel bound to this story; I need to finally write it to recognize it and the impact it has had on me.

When I was thirteen years old, I met a Bangladeshi person for the first time. She was a student teacher for one of my classes in middle school. I was immediately mesmerized by her tales of a land and culture far different from my own and completely spellbound as she described her perspective on the United States and her experiences of culture shock. Admittedly, I cannot recall the exact lessons she taught throughout that year; however, I can still remember how utterly star-struck I felt. Not only do I remember her being incredibly kind, a good storyteller, and remarkably resilient, but she was a treasure trove of knowledge, a window into a new world.

At the end of her stay in our classroom, she gave each student two parting gifts from her home country: a small flag and a piece of currency. It felt like she gave us a piece of herself, and I still have them today.

The personal connections forged between people with disparate backgrounds and different mother tongues, resulting in learning from other perspectives and combating ignorance, are the crux of the Fulbright experience. Every person deserves an opportunity to meet others unlike themselves, to learn about another part of the world, to experience a life or place different from their own. My student teacher was one of the earliest dominos that led to my Fulbright year; she was the actualization of what I thought were unattainable or unrealistic dreams. She inspired me to step out of my comfort zone and to preserve enough childlike hope and naïvete to earn the same.

There are enormous dangers to staying within one’s comfort zone: never experiencing what is new or different, never knowing anyone who is foreign, never being challenged or forced to change, never being confronted with ways you are wrong, never learning, and staying stagnant. Although it can be scary, leaving one's comfort zone—whether it's living and teaching halfway across the world or simply talking to someone with a different background—is one of the most beneficial steps one can take. Learning is the key to everything else in life–success, personal growth, adventuring beyond what you already know–and one can never learn if they never leave their comfort zone. When you stay inside that bubble, it shrinks and shrinks and shrinks, and anything outside that bubble becomes a threat. Pushing myself out of my comfort zone through this Fulbright has permanently impacted my students, my colleagues, my understanding of the world I inhabit, my community back home, my values, and my goals. I have more hope for the future than ever before and a renewed dedication to fostering cultural understanding through personal connections.

It is only now, over ten years later, that I re-discovered that teacher through social media and realized that I have become her: a student teacher also serving as an ambassador, a vessel of foreign knowledge, a personal connection to another land.

Thank you, Ratna.

I've Changed

    When I first attempted to write this post, I created a list of the many ways—big and small—I’ve changed since arriving in Germany, such as majorly improving my German skills, developing greater empathy for non-native English speakers, recycling more, cultivating a stronger appreciation for bread, etc. However, I’ve noticed one thing that stands out to me more than all others: my personal growth—my confidence, my adaptability, my independence, so many qualities and traits that I cannot yet fully summarize.

    Living at home and commuting to work in Cleveland last year felt comfortable. I lived in an area I knew near the people and places I knew speaking the language I knew. It felt like a probationary period for adulthood. Occasionally, I felt tempted to stay in that comfort, to sit and watch the world from my couch. My surroundings and the demands of daily life did not challenge me enough, in the way that would inevitably produce the personal growth I desperately craved.

    Moving to a foreign country has forced me to intimately confront and recognise who I am as a young adult and as a person. When navigating a foreign environment, there is nobody else you can be but yourself, no past version of yourself that others know you as, no room for hiding or regression. Voluntarily foregoing who and what you know is not easy, but I am determined to never let myself settle for easy. By putting myself in situations that challenge and test me, I discover who I am. I’ve had ample time to process life alone, to sit with myself, to journey forward outside the proximity of my support system. I love learning, and Fulbright has given me the opportunity to learn who I am.

   No matter what I decide to do or where I decide to go in the future, I’ll embrace it as this new, stronger me. Adulthood, just like the streets and people of Erlangen, has become familiar to me.

    I’m slowly becoming the person I’ve always wanted to be. My final thought is a wish, a wish that every person could have an experience like this: a chance to accept yourself, be challenged, and grow. Stepping outside of one’s comfort zone, even if it is hard or scary, can have enormous positive results.

Learning to Appreciate Languages

    For the majority of my life, I despised learning languages. I was convinced that some people are naturally gifted at languages and that I was simply not one of those people. So, how did I change from someone who loathed every second spent in a German classroom to living abroad and speaking it every day?
I didn’t have the chance to start learning a foreign language until seventh grade. Compared to my current students, who start English in first grade, this is quite late. According to what I've learned, language acquisition is easier the younger you start. Starting to learn a new language during adulthood, while it is incredibly beneficial for brain health, is tougher and takes longer to reach fluency.
Spanish felt completely unique to my brain and exercised it in new, unfamiliar ways. I did not grasp it as easily as other subjects; therefore, being the fickle student I was, I assumed there must be something wrong with either Spanish or myself. Most other subjects were relatively simple, so why couldn’t Spanish just click into place like everything else in school?
Over the next few years, I grew resistant to language learning entirely. Frankly, I felt embarrassed by my poor retention and slow progress. When I reached the end of my required time in Spanish, I wished it farewell and good riddance. Most knowledge was purged from my brain and, unfortunately, my memory of even basic words and sentences is severely lacking today. 
Going into college, I knew my degree required at least two years of foreign language courses. At this point, I still hated Spanish and assumed any language would be a miserable struggle, so I decided to enroll in the furthest thing from a romance language I could find. Combined with my own ancestry and my interest in European politics and history, I landed on German.
For the first year, I was afraid to speak up or try at all because any errors were penalized. Many of my classmates took German in high school, so I immediately felt disheartened and behind. Since I never needed German in daily life, I questioned its usefulness and my motivation waned.
The turning point for me came in the form of an energetic, understanding Bavarian woman named Frau Steigerwald. In her classes, she showed a level of empathy and patience unparalleled by any of my previous language instructors. She showed me that language is more than just a grade or something you get right or wrong: language is a wonderful tool, a way to make connections and learn, a window to more of the world and its people. She opened my eyes and completely revolutionized my attitude about German. Her positive influence is why I chose Bavaria as my top preference for my Fulbright placement.
In my experience, I’ve also discovered that extracurricular opportunities are just as valuable and informative as, if not more than, experiences within the traditional classroom setting. I realized I spoke German much more freely while attending local Stammtisch events and connecting with people casually than in my formal courses. Communicating without fear of a bad grade or red marks through every error healed my relationship with languages.
Because I am still a language learner myself, I will never forget the position my students are in or how daunting a foreign language can be. Empathy is the most vital trait a teacher can have and I learned the value of it from Frau Steigerwald. She understood that I struggled with the language, despite trying my best, so she let me make mistakes and experiment, finding creative ways to communicate using the words I knew. Once I felt comfortable enough to try, fail, and try again, I found that not only am I decent at German, but I actually, dare I say, enjoy it! Now, I am trying to show my students that it’s okay to make mistakes—I make them every day in German—and create a space where they feel comfortable experimenting, failing, and trying again. 
If you are learning a language, don't give up! Stick with it, I promise it gets easier. 

Nomad

     Traveling is learning. To travel is to meet the world, to become acquainted with the many peoples and cultures that inhabit it. To travel is to leave what is known, to venture beyond the realm of familiarity and the constraints of comfort. With a little time and an open mind, the vagabond becomes a kaleidoscope, collecting and embodying pieces of their experiences, integrating into their very person.

    Sometimes, I feel like too much of some things and too little of others to fully be anything. I know too little German to seamlessly navigate and integrate into society here. I know too much German to be just another American tourist, but not enough to call myself fluent. I know too much of the world to return to who I was before, but not enough to know where I want to work and live after Fulbright. I'm a split person, too much of each place to belong to only one.

The Schneiders Take Europe

    My family came to visit me!! The days I spent with them exploring Europe and sharing snippets of my new life here were the best I’ve had yet. Here’s a brief summary of our adventures:

    The weekend before they arrived, I visited Switzerland for the first time with some of my Fulbright friends. Our first day, Friday, February 17th, we explored the city, baked cookies, played board games and were very merry.

    The next day, we took a ski lift to the summit of Kronberg, a mountain in the Swiss Alps, and hiked down from the top. The views were beyond compare. There were several moments during our descent where I was so stunned that I had to simply stop and stand in awe of my surroundings. It is the most beautiful place I’ve ever visited.

    The fries were good, but nothing beats the view.

    Made a new friend in Jakobsbad. 

    The group wrapped up our weekend in Switzerland with a trip to Lindt’s headquarters on Sunday. We toured the factory and filled our stomachs with free samples.

    The morning of Monday, February 20th, my family arrived in Munich! As quickly as I could, I rode a train down and met them in the airport. The moment when I spotted them, ran to them, and finally embraced them for the first time since Christmas break is a memory I’ll treasure forever. We then took a tram to our quaint AirBnb, spoke with the kind old German woman who was our host, and toasted our reunion with German beer.

    After a collective nap, we enjoyed some Bavarian food at the aptly-named Schneider Bräuhaus. To end the evening, we explored the area around Marienplatz and stumbled upon a band playing to celebrate Karneval. The jubilance of the crowd and players was contagious, immediately lifting our spirits.  

    The next day, we visited the Dachau concentration camp. Everyone should be informed about the Holocaust and for me, I've long considered it vital to visit a memorial site in person. After visiting it twice within three months, I can soundly say that I need to take a brief emotional break before visiting another concentration camp again. That night, we spent time around the city center and ate some typical German street food: meat and bread.

    Our next stop was Salzburg, Austria! Though we only spent a few hours there before continuing on to Vienna, I loved walking through the city, especially the Mirabell Palace and the surrounding gardens, which may be recognisable to fans of "The Sound of Music". We also visited the Mozart Wohnhaus, a museum dedicated to Mozart and his family.

    Vienna is an incredible city. Even though we spent hours on a bus tour and walking through the city, I felt like I barely dipped my toes into what Vienna had to offer. My favourite part was the House of Music, which included many interactive exhibits, lengthy biographies of numerous historic composers, and gorgeous music. There was even a theatre within the museum playing a full orchestral concert. The music was so wonderful that Mom and I were tempted to stay there and listen for hours and hours.

    Conducting like a mad genius or engaged in a wizard duel?

    Sigmund Freud museum

    Next stop: the Czech Republic! Out of all the places I’ve visited so far these past 6 months, Prague felt the most distinct. Unlike Germany, Switzerland, and Austria, I cannot speak or understand a lick of the Czech language, which made navigating and ordering food challenging. Overall, I enjoyed the architecture, the candy shops, the messy Trdelnik, and so much more!

    Memorial to the victims of the earthquakes in Turkey.

    Prague's astronomical clock. Created in 1410, but incredibly technologically advanced.

    We hiked up to the Prague castle, which gave us a magnificent view of the city.

    On Monday, February 27, my week of vacation was over and I returned to work. My family stayed in an AirBnb close to my Studentenwohnheim (student apartment) and explored on their own until I got off work and joined them. For lunch, we ate with my friends Lea and Laura, then we met up with a wonderful colleague of mine and hiked up to the Walberla peak in the Franconian mountains. Afterwards, we enjoyed some Schnitzel at a local Gasthaus. 

    Tuesday after work, my partner teacher invited us over for a Raclette dinner with her family. I’m hoping that my family enjoyed it so much that there’ll be a Raclette grill back home when I return in the summer!

    Wednesday, March 1st was my final day with my family. We had lunch at my beloved cat café, then spent the day in Nürnberg. Saying good-bye to them was extremely tough, but I feel so lucky to have shared this time with them.

    In all places except Prague, I served as my family's primary navigator and translator. I impressed myself with how well I adapted to each location, despite still being relatively new to Europe myself, and it reminded me how much progress I've made in just 6 months. I think I handled my role well and I even helped teach my family a little German!

    Overall, I wish we had a bit more time at each of the cities we visited. We had just enough time to get a small taste of each city, but not enough to fully indulge and settle in. 

    My favorite part was just spending time with my family. There’s nothing better than being in the place I love with the people I love. I am so thankful that they came to visit me and I can’t wait to see them again. 

So long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, good bye…