My international school

I went back to German class this week after a summer off. I know that Brian and I work at The International School (note capital letters), but when I'm at class I go to my own international school. Here's a little about some of my classmates this semester:

The Ukranian ladies - there are five Ukranian women in my class, all between about 45 and 65 years old. They talk to each other in Russian. I have recently learned that Russian is more commonly spoken than Ukranian in some parts of the Ukraine. Rayissa is a retired physicist who wears really brightly colored clothing, including plenty of teal. Like Ludmila, many of them have lived in Germany for ten or fifteen years, but haven't learned much German.

Naeem is from Pakistan. He said he's a mechanic but has no oily fingers and uses an English-German dictionary in class. I have a feeling he's more of an engineer than a grease monkey.

A few of my old classmates are still with me. There's Ibrahim, the retired construction worker from Azerbaijan and a bit of a philosopher, Ronak from the Kurdish part of Iraq who is a cleaner at Hannover's biggest hospital, Valentina, who's another Ukranian grandma, and Mohammad from Afghanistan who stocks mini bars at a hotel. Mohammad and I usually sit together and sometimes he tells me about how he's getting out of Germany as soon as he gets his passport and as soon as he gets his wife to join him (she's in Tehran).

We have two shy Ecuadorian kids in class too. I say kids because they are 16 and 17 and are here for a year on a student exchange. Felipe seems to keep up with the class but Melissa struggles a little. They go to high school all day and then to German class for two hours. They will probably learn faster than all of us, and everyone in the class wants to take care of them.

Ayong and Amina stick together. They are in our course, which is a level too high for them, because the class they should take is full. Ayong is Korean and tall and thin and fashionable. Amina is from Lebanon, keeps her head covered, and speaks German with a French accent.

The class that Dejan should be in was also full, so he's re-doing our level. He's bald, smart, and doesn't take any notes. So far, both of the Serbian men I have met are named Dejan.  The other one has hair.

Iman says she is an IT person, but I don't really believe it. Nothing against IT people, but she is so friendly and outgoing and full of smiles that I can't imagine her programming computers. She's from Jordan.

There's also Nazanin from Iran who looks just like the Wicked Witch of the West. She has a long nose with a wart and messy black hair and wears green sweaters.

I've also changed my attitude on taking German classes. It's not like taking a language in college where we had to keep progressing to the next level. Learning German because I live in Germany is more like getting a suntan. I need a little exposure every day.  Now that I have the basics down, what we talk about isn't as important as the fact that we are talking. Eventually I'll know the right grammar because it sounds right, not because I learned it from a book. Eventually I'd like to ask Ibrahim his thoughts on globalization, or find out what Naznin has done with the ruby slippers.