Brains Before Beauty

When I arrived at my lyceum two years ago, I kept hearing references to a "Miss English" competition that had been held the previous year. I asked my colleagues about it, and they explained to me that "Miss English," which was styled in the format of a beauty contest, was a chance for English-speaking girls in the upper-level classes to compete in various contests requiring creativity, memory skills, and--most importantly--a good command of the English language.

The second installment of "Miss English," which I wrote about in a blog entry last March, was an extravagant affair. Eight different girls competed, each of them representing a different country (presenting information about the culture, showing national dances and costumes, and even preparing a national dish for the jury to sample). Each contestant also had to answer a series of trivia questions and perform a scene from a movie of her choice. All of this, of course, was done in English.

When those of us in the English department started planning for this year's "Miss English," we decided to do it a little bit differently. We narrowed the field of contestants to five girls, none of whom had competed in "Miss English" before. And in place of countries, we gave each girl an American/British holiday (namely, Valentine's Day, Easter, Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas). In addition, each girl was given a script of a fairy tale (written by yours truly) to act out, but with a modern-day twist. We chose Little Red Riding Hood, the Princess and the Pea, the Snow Queen, Cinderella, and Snow White.

So as the second semester got underway, two of my partner teachers and I began to prepare in earnest for "Miss English." I was flattered to be so involved in the planning process this time around, especially since I got to show off my creative side by crafting the modern-day renditions of the fairy tales. But as "Miss English" approached, my stress level sky rocketed. I was running around like a chicken with my head cut off, helping not only with the general planning but also helping Larisa, one of my students and a "Miss English" contestant, prepare.

Each of us English teachers was responsible for overseeing our respective students to help them with pronunciation and translation, and to keep tabs of their overall progress. Larisa had always been one of my stronger students, but this year she started to shine. When I asked her if she wanted to participate in "Miss English," I had no way of anticipating the result. She threw herself into it, telling me that she didn't really think she had any chance of winning, but she wanted to have fun and to make her friends and classmates proud. What most impressed me was her self-motivation. Not once did I have to prod her to practice more or to stay on top of things. She organized her own rehearsals, tracked down a slew of classmates and other random students to participate in her presentation, and spent countless hours assembling costumes and drawing and painting posters and pictures to use as visual aids (including a Halloween mural literally the size of an entire wall).

Even though I was excited to see Larisa's presentation take shape, I was becoming more and more disgruntled with the planning. It seemed to me (and it might just be because I am a slightly anal American) that too many things were being left to the last minute and that there was no possible way that everything would come together in time. In addition to that, "Miss English" was postponed on three separate occasions due to scheduling conflicts and sickness. By the time last Monday arrived, I was past the point of caring about how well it would turn out. I just wanted the stupid thing to be over with.

Somehow, miraculously, the program turned out beautifully. It was two hours long, which compared to last year's 3+ hour performance, was a welcome change. Other than a few minor technical glitches, things went smoothly. Our festivities hall was full, and even though a good portion of the audience didn't really speak English, there were enough decorations, music, and humorous elements (such as opening our show by having four of my 6-foot-tall 9th form boys dressed in drag come onto the stage, pretending to be "Miss English" contestants) to keep them entertained.

I watched proudly (and slightly nervously) as Larisa performed each of the elements of her program. As she introduced herself and gave her presentation about Halloween, Larisa talked to the audience as if they were a few friends sitting in her living room. Her English was clear, and she spoke so effortlessly that I almost forgot that she was speaking memorized lines. After a rousing performance of Cinderella (where she displayed some serious acting chops), it was clear that she was the crowd favorite. Still, I wasn't quite sure who our jury (comprised of two former "Miss English" contestants, two teachers, and my school director) would pick. When they said her name, the hall went absolutely wild. Larisa's face was priceless. She was utterly and completely shocked. When she came forward to give a brief acceptance speech, it was clear that she still couldn't believe that she had won. She spoke slowly into the microphone, trying to find the right words in English. And when she thanked me for all I'd done, I smiled so hard my face hurt. Who needs the Oscars when you've got "Miss English"?

Paşte

I decided to dedicate my latest blog entry to Easter. Even though this holiday has come and gone, Paşte (as Moldovans call it) is by far the biggest holiday of the year here. And, just like Christmas in America, its celebration extends over a period of time much larger than a single day. So, a bit belated, here is my take on it all:

Pre-Paşte
Preparations for Easter start several weeks ahead of time. Just as many American Christians observe Lent, most Moldovans also "ţine post" (keep a fast) in the weeks leading up to Easter. Those who are serious about their fasting refrain from all animal products during this entire time. The handful of Peace Corps volunteers who manage to stay vegetarians during their stay in Moldova--a feat in and of itself--love this time of year because all kinds of soy products start appearing in markets and grocery stores. Moldovans also work hard to make everything "frumos" (beautiful)--putting fresh coats of paint on fences, benches, and trees, clearing fallen branches and leaves, and scouring clean every square inch of their homes (thus my host mother's recent cleaning rampage). The last couple days before Easter are the busiest for Moldovan women, who are baking and cooking as if their lives depended on it.

Paşte
The truly devoted are at church all night long on the eve of Easter, but most people get up around 3 in the morning to take baskets of pască (a sweet bread made only at Easter), colored eggs, and various other foods to be blessed by the priest. Sunday morning I woke up at 2:30 (never again will I complain about having to wake up early for an American Easter sunrise service!) and accompanied my host mother and sister to church. By the time we arrived, the yard was already crowded. We joined the silent line of people and stood huddled over our Easter basket, trying to stay warm. Almost an hour later, the priest finally emerged from the church. As he made his way down the line, he doused everyone with holy water. After that, we made our way back home.

I napped for a couple of hours, but I was woken again at 7:00 for our Easter feast. Moldovans, celebrating the end of their fast, go a little crazy on the meat. As I stared at the table before me, I saw mounds of ham, beef, chicken, fish, salami, and racituri (rooster jelly). Almost as an afterthought, there were a couple dishes of pancakes and potato salad placed along the edges of the table. Present at my Easter feast were only the immediate members of my host family, but many Moldovan families travel to visit relatives on this day. Even those who are working abroad will come home at Easter time to be with their families.

After I dutifully stuffed myself with meat, I went to the Baptist church in my town (which I frequent most Sundays) to see how the non-Orthodox celebrate Easter. Their service was actually quite similar to an American Easter service, and I found myself thinking of the Easter traditions I had grown up with.

Post-Paşte
Perhaps my favorite part of Moldovan Easter is that the celebration doesn't stop on Easter day. Starting with Easter morning, Moldovans replace their usual greeting of "Buna ziua" (hello) with the phrase "Hristos a înviat!" (Christ has risen!). For the next 40 days, they answer the phone, wave to their neighbors, and greet colleagues and friends with this phrase. As a response, the other person must say, "Adevărat a înviat!" (He has risen indeed!). Then, on Ascension Day, they greet each other with the phrase "Hristos s-a înălţat!" This marks the end of the Easter Season.

Coming from a culture so saturated in commercialism that even religious holidays have become excuses to buy needless "stuff," I must say that I wholeheartedly love the Moldovan approach to Easter. And no, I didn't miss the Easter Bunny one bit.