Blog 4
Topic: Definition of "class"
What needs to be given in order to belong to a certain class? Is it the family’s status and financial situation, is it education or is it the personal quality? Is the status of a particular class rated the same in different countries? I wonder.

I grew up in a country, governed by a communistic party. The life was very limited, but it was good for what it was. People didn’t have much, but I would say every one – except the politicians, military and clergy who were the richest citizens of the country – was the “middle class”. There were no poor, beggars, homeless or mentally ill people on the streets. Every one got the same chances for education and opportunities for personal growth. People seemed to be happy (that’s what I perceived as a child), there was no (obvious) competition, race for money or envy. I was very well aware that there is other “better” life out there, but at that point I didn’t care much for it.

As I migrated to a “richer” country, everything changed. I was overwhelmed by the huge amount of variety of literally everything. I didn’t know what to do with all that, there were too many choices. I was never before aware of “classes”, but I realized their existence as I begun to live in different countries and to travel. I wonder, how would my lifestyle be viewed by an average-class person, let’s say here in SF. Living there I didn’t feel poor even thought one could say I lacked everything (from food to clothing) that one easily gets here, even as a low-class person. So, I guess classes don’t compare country-wise after all.

Education is a different issue. Anyone willing to learn, study and educate him/herself willingly moves up in the class. Education is the key and it’s sad that many people seem not to understand it. I believe to speak a proper form of any language is very important, nothing wrong with speaking dialects and/or slang, as long one can express him/herself in an articulate, educated way. Language is communication, it’s the way to interact with others, I wonder how comes that so many people disregard it.

I think that belonging to a certain class is also determined by own personal qualities as a human being. In our young age we already shape characters and our paths and determine how we want to be in future. We look up to people who we admire. For me the own class is also an issue of a certain behavior and manner. Your “class” shows your qualities, it’s a sort of your own personal label. That’s how I see it.

So, you might be poor, you might be coming from a family with no financial support, you might not be studying at some Elite University, as long you have the passion and determination to live a “better” life, you can use your qualities and knowledge to be in the place in your life where you want to be.

Blog 3 - How to choose a mother tongue?


The language readings from our book made me think about my own language and the meaning of “mother tongue”.

As I had the fortune to live in different countries, I was naturally surrounded by the sounds of different languages; I had no choice than to learn to speak these languages. I’m fluent in three languages, but I often ask myself to what degree and which of these three should I consider my mother tongue? Is it the one I learned to speak first? Or the following one that I needed to learn in order to continue my education? Or is it the current one, which I obviously use the most? I could never decide. How can one decide?

As wonderful as it sounds to be able to speak three languages, it is also very problematic to use them correctly at the appropriate time. During conversations, I often catch myself switching back and forth, substituting words or making-up words by adding the last syllable to make it sound “right-like” ... To top the confusion, I seem to have an undefined accent that makes most people puzzle even more… I guess my accent is just my very own unique mix of all the sounds that I am/was surrounded by, basically – undefined.

Most people think I’m French, which is quite amusing, as the only thing I have in common with French are some French friends. Other people are just guessing. After a while, such blind guessing usually turns into a game with the most stunning outcomes. I must admit I like to “play” this game, as it is a way to meet people and quickly determine their intentions/interests.

I consider the knowledge of languages as very powerful. Once traveling in a train somewhere through out Eastern Europe I met a family with 6 children who spoke at least 5 different languages. It was such a pleasure to watch them; I couldn’t help myself than envy them. I believe that every child from a multicultural family, who has the chance to learn (at least) two native languages, is very fortunate. The best thing about it is not only to be able to speak the language, but to “understand” it and be able to relate to it. So for me, even though I probably don’t speak any of the three languages 100%, I’m able to read and understand the classical works of my countries’ writers; even the best translated works simply don’t give justice to the originals.

I was surprised by our book readings and how many of the authors are ashamed of their native languages and their ethnic backgrounds and some of whom refused and never bothered to learn the language of the country they migrated to. I’m glad that my parents thought me different, so now I have the opportunity to freely communicate in three different languages. I know for sure that’s something I want to teach my children.

Blog 2
Topic: A Lesson learned
I found the Race Unit Essays quite interesting, because they show that discrimination is still out there, after all that time of those great open-minded people who fought for equal rights. It still exists; it is everywhere and can happen to anyone.

I often think about it, as I feel like an alien where ever I go or live. I had the luck to travel around the world and to live in different places and wherever I went I was asking myself, how is it going to be this time? Will I be accepted or will I struggle? Will I be looked down upon because of the color of my skin or my hair or my eyes or will people embrace me for who I am? I must admit, I never have experienced obvious discrimination, maybe I was just lucky. Or maybe I just adjusted well and easily to the new environment and made it work for me, because my mind was set on “making it work for me” in the best way possible.

I feel very fortunate to have traveled and “see” if the grass is really greener on the other side. Well, it is. It’s not always better but it’s new and therefore exciting and worth discovering. Every place I go makes me more open-minded, more considerate of others and respectful of what’s new. But of course I’m still learning all that and I do mistakes along the way as well.

Once, while waiting for a bus in the middle of the day, there was an Arabic looking middle-aged men sleeping on the stairs to the Law School entrance at Civic Center. He didn’t look homeless, but he was dirty, probably hangover. As he woke up, he looked at me even though I pretended not to pay attention and to look the other way; he came over and started to pee, just like that, in front of me and all the other people around. He found it amusing. He was talking something to me in his language, so I walked away and looked the other way. Then I turned because the bus was arriving and there he was, his face only inches away from mine. I saw his dark eyes; his sleazy smile and I couldn’t help but to hate him. And I only thought that if he touches me I’m going to loose my sanity, I was so disgusted by his presence. But he didn’t and I entered the bus. After my heart finally stopped pounding I begun to cry bitterly out of shame. I have never before experienced such a surge of hatred feelings growing so rapidly; I simply hated him, not only for his behavior, but also for whom he was. I felt guilty and I thought of me as somewhat a racist. But am I really one? Does such an incident make me to be one? I hope not. So here the question, where does racism start?

This incident happened some time ago, but every time I’m at Civic Center I have to think of him. And I still feel ashamed. But I also think, it’s time to loose the guilt; I hated him for what he did and for his obvious ignorance and provocation. His Arabic look only awakened some associations from my past. But after all I should know better than to judge… I spent quite some time living among Arabic people. Fact it, that as a non-Arabic woman, one is the center of attention wherever one goes without a male “escort”. I learned to make myself “invisible” and to accept the way things are over there, but I will never forget the “looks” of those men, who at the same time wish to seduce and to condemn. The man from Civic Center, besides misbehaving had that kind of look.

Spending time over there I learned a lot, especially that the best way to accept other people, not only of other races but in general, is simply to accept their culture, to willingly discover more about them and to try to adjust as best as possible. That’s our best shot, even though we might do mistakes from time to time.

BLOG 1
Topic: Words
There is a phrase that goes: “He is a men of few words”, well that’s what I would say describes me, only that I’m a woman. I was often wondering what it is about me and why it is so difficult for me to speak up. I believe the answer lies in my past and the place and culture I grew up with.

So were the years I spent in school that promoted high-standard morals and respect, slowly but surely shaping me and my relation to the spoken words. Respect for everyone who was older than me was the key. It was unimaginable to argue with a teacher and answering back in a bold manner would send a student directly to the director’s office and an unpleasant call to the parents. Such behavior was unheard of and wouldn’t be tolerated, the consequences comparing to our days were not drastic, but the embarrassing moment to be send out by the teacher out of the classroom, the explanations to the director and than the parents who would look at me and just shake their heads in disbelief would feel like a stigma for a long time, everyone would remember such incident and wouldn’t resist of reminding me of it. In my childish understanding to behave out-of-manner wasn’t worth it, keeping my mouth shut was much safer.

Please don’t understand me wrong I’m no complaining about the educational system I used to be a part of in that school. I actually loved to go to school, then besides all that rigorous rules, I learned the value of discipline and the value of words. We have been thought to speak only if we really had something intelligent to say, something that would invite to a discussion. We have been thought to think logically and ask meaningful questions, to think twice before opening our mouths. There was no place for banal comments and chitchat.

I can imagine that this might sound very questionable to many of you, that most people would say that such kind of education is oppressive and that I’m being deprived of my rights and the freedom of speech and, and, and… Well I would disagree; I cherish all I learned in that school.

I was very much shocked about peoples’ talking abilities as I came to San Francisco. I must admit I never heard so much irrelevant, senseless talk; I never met so many people who can talk for hours about nothing. I needed a long time to adjust to it and take it as part of the social SF scene, I learned to live with it, but I refuse to be a part of it, I simply can’t, I don’t want to overcome my own values which made me to be the person I am.

“Words are silver, silence is gold” – that’s partially my motto. I feel like speaking about banal things is such a waste of time. What’s the point of using the beauty of spoken words if the words are empty, meaningless? I get bored listening to people who speak only to fill the gap of silence, or because they need extra-attention. I get very irritated by students in several of my classes who ask questions only to show everyone, especially the teacher that they are involved in the class discussion even though they only repeat what already has been said or come up with an out-of-topic question. I don’t understand why, why distract others who are there in the class to learn, why waste precious time? But the most annoying thing about the issue of talking for me, are the “young girls” and their immature girlish behavior, their mimics of approval or disapproval (the eyes-rolling and mouth-grimaces as well as the fake smiles), their clapping in the hands in an over-excitement about some trivial thing, their need to be seen and get everyone’s attention, their talk is usually absolutely not topic-related, their words are worthless and for the most of the time it is more a chit-chat than a discussion.

I know that I’m very opinionated about the issue of “talking”, but that’s maybe because I passed the early-twenties phase already and because of my past. I still do participate in talking to all sort of people, but I reduce the amount of my words, I better listen instead. I’m an active listener and take in all words that are spoken, but I need to organize them, select them, and form ideas out of them before saying them out loud.

I don’t mean to offend anyone by saying what I stated in my blog, it is a more general idea about my way of “talking” in comparison to other peoples’ way.
That’s who I am and I think there is nothing wrong with me; I’m just a bit different…