Faking French: DC Redux (Warning: Long Post Ahead)

We spent a week in Washington, D.C., for program orientation. It was my first trip to the capital, so I took the obligatory tourist photos (you can see them here), but we didn't get to see nearly as much as I would have wanted because, well, we were there for work. Which we did. We had meetings all day, every day.

Monday

Because Miss Cake and I booked our tickets separately, we didn't travel together-- in fact, we didn't even arrive at the same airport-- she went to Dulles, I went to Reagan. I took a 10-minute cab ride to the hotel, and I was so impressed with the city; it really is lovely. There was no organized program for Monday; mostly it consisted of people wandering around trying to find their exchange partners. (We were one of two exchange pairs-- out of 60-something-- who'd already met. Normally the partners meet in D.C.)

I took a walk to Georgetown and bought a pair of shoes and a t-shirt. It wasn't terribly hot, but I was tired and cranky from sleeping on a couch for a week, so I wasn't a whole lot of fun.

Tuesday

Meetings started at 9 a.m. The first speaker, Dr. Gary Weaver, was an absolute scream; he spoke on the rewards and challenges of living abroad, and he had our attention from the first word.

Let's be honest-- everyone in that room has a keen interest in cross-cultural understanding, so in that sense, he had a captive audience. The fact that he was informative and entertaining was just a bonus. I particularly enjoyed his analysis of Americans' emphasis on independence and self-reliance. As an example, he cited the phrase "spare change." Americans refuse to acknowledge that they depend on others to meet their needs; therefore your friendly local bum doesn't ask for help or even money; he asks if you have spare change, as in, "Well yeah, I was just going to throw this away, so really you'd be doing me a favor by taking it off my hands."

In other cultures, he notes, nursing homes are unheard of; it's inconceivable that parents would reside anywhere other than with their children. For American parents, on the other hand, who've spent their entire lives inculcating their children with the values of independence and self-reliance, the ultimate insult would be relying on their children for care.

In the afternoon, there was an optional bus tour of D.C., and I made the mistake of going. I regretted the decision almost as soon as the bus pulled out of the hotel, though by then it was of course too late. I was hot and cranky and my head hurt, which didn't make for the best attitude, I admit.

It didn't help things that our tour guide was an idiot. Okay fine, she's got a degree in engineering from George Washington, so she's not a complete idiot, but evidently GW has no minimum history requirements, because this girl screwed up a lot. She explained quite seriously that Alexander Hamilton had died "for love" (he did not), because "at that time, when two men liked the same woman, they settled the matter with guns, and whoever lived got the girl."

I nearly lost it when we drove past the Tidal Basin and she explained that "these trees, which are called cherry blossoms, were a gift from the mayor of Japan." The mayor of Japan, kids.

The keynote speaker at dinner was Harriet Fulbright, and though she spoke only briefly, I would have loved to have heard more. She began her teaching career in the early 60s in Korea (just a few years after the war ended) and then taught in the U.S.S.R. Her speech was warm and personable; I was impressed by her boldness-- hers was certainly not a typical woman's career path for the era.

Wednesday

An even earlier start this morning-- 8:30. And regrettably, the first speaker was a professor of education whose speech was so theoretical and full of educationese that after he gave his introduction, I turned to the lady next to me and asked, "Was there a concrete noun anywhere in that sentence?" (I wrote down the phrase problem-oriented curricular adjustments and spent the next few minutes doodling. I mean really, what the heck?) The poor international teachers zoned out immediately. I tried to listen, but it was rough. Mercifully, his co-speaker was the National Teacher of the Year, a former NYC cop who teaches at-risk kids, and I very much enjoyed what he had to say-- far more accessible and practical.

The rest of the day consisted of breakout sessions in our country groups, which gave us time to speak with an extremely helpful program alum. (Thanks, Vandana!) That evening, we were free, so Miss Cake and I went with another exchange pair to eat Ethiopian food. Oh man, that stuff was good! At one point, Valerie excused herself, but the food arrived and we were so fixated on stuffing our faces that we didn't notice at first how long she'd been gone. Turns out she'd gotten locked in the bathroom! The restaurant staff had to break the lock and get her out, and all the while we'd been eating her portion of the collard greens and letting her beer get warm. Poor Val.

Thursday

More breakout sessions. More meetings. My brain hurts. That night, however, bliss: the Farewell Dinner and Cultural Fair, in which all the international teacher groups "share musical, dance or cultural performances." Note the phrasing: international teachers; the U.S. group didn't have to do a thing but sit back and watch. Unfair? Completely. And we loved every minute of it.

The French had been told as early on as May that their group is always the very, very worst, so this year Miss Cake spearheaded an effort at redemption. I laughed so hard I cried; they were hilarious.

The French were followed by the dancing lady from Ghana, a Czech woman whose talent was Czech trivia (did you know sugar cubes were invented there?) Then the dancing Hungarians (impressive!); the Indians, who led the whole room in a festive "Jai Ho"; the lone Turkish girl, whose talent, evidently, was showing YouTube travel videos of Turkey; and the Brits, who did an entire "Britain's Got Talent" skit-- complete with judges-- which involved dancing Scots and the English crew singing "I'm a Little Teapot."

The Swiss guy yodeled. Really.