faschingszeit ist krapfenzeit

Tomorrow is Mardi Gras, or as everyone else calls it, Carnival, or as Austria calls it: Fasching. To me, Fasching means one thing:

What's that? Oh, just some Krapfen. What are Krapfen? Glorified filled doughnuts. I don't question the overabundance of tasty, doughy, cream-filled treats, I just accept it and eat them. All of them. (except for the ones filled with marmalade, gross. Can we just agree to stop putting marmalade in everything, Austria? It's not cool. NOT COOL, BRO.)

Aside from Krapfen, Fasching also means costumes, parades and public inebriation. It's a day where school ends early so the little hooligans can go get their drink on, and so those adults who feel inclined to do so can dress up as anything from large, pink rabbits to racially offensive stereotypes!

Tomorrow I plan on going out with my crew (yeah, I have a crew. Jealous?) as well as meeting up with some of the younger teachers at my previous school (who will be dressed as cupcakes) and making party. WOO. What will I be dressed as? Well, I bought this jacket for a freedom-themed party:

So I'll be transforming myself from country-loving 1776 revolutionary to a pirate. All I need to do is make a hat, parrot, possibly a hook and to buy some rum...VOILA. Also I have Wednesday off so...PARTY ALL DAY AND ALL NIGHT. Or until I get sleepy. One of the two.

Now onto serious things.

I've started work at my new school. It's about twice the size as the previous one, offers English, Italian, Spanish and French, has about a million more boys (and some delightfully attractive young teacher fellows...) as well as kids as young as 10. Little babies! During my first week I've been to one of each of the upper level classes (5th, 6th, 7th, and 8th form) as well as one of the 1st formers. One of the English teachers I work with, who is one of my mentor teachers, had to substitute the little ones for a lesson so, as reinforcement, she brought me along. The little guys were supposed to have a drawing class, so when we showed up with the announcement that  they would instead be doing English, all sorts of feathers were ruffled. However, they were interested in me for about half of the lesson, politely asking ill-formed questions with wide-eyed stares and lots of giggles. There was even a showcase of headstands during this portion of the class. I was surprised how little I wanted to strangle them. Only once did my nerves threaten to boil over and did I consider tossing a child from a window like Mrs. Trunchbull:

I didn't, however, and still have my job. The second half of the lesson, to their and my delight, consisted of a list of animals in English written on the board and the task of drawing them. Despite the groans of "HOW DO I EVEN DRAW A TIGER?!" "WHAT'S A PEACOCK?!" "I WANT TO DRAW A FOX." it was a huge success. I drew a picture of a fox, to get them started, and the room filled with gasps of utter joy: I had won. A chorus of "Mawwww, wie süß!" ("Aww how cute!) and "Mei!" (Awwww!) erupted from boy and girl alike.

It looked something like this. I don't even know what a fox is

 I had done the impossible: I tamed the 10 year olds. I moved from table to table, asked them in German about their animals, giving praise where praise was, or wasn't due. They showed me their doodles with shyness and sometimes pride. I was asked to draw for them on their papers, like some sort of celebrity. They used the formal you, Sie, and asked when I would be back.
I told them I didn't know (knowing full well that the answer would probably be never) and was honestly saddened myself.

I, Katherine Nicole, enjoyed an hour with 25 Austrian 10 year olds.

The end is nigh.