Campaign week at Eötvös!

This week is week two of the campaign weeks at school.  Each class of “school leavers” (12^th or 13^th grades) chooses a candidate from their class to run for the “king” of the school.  I have never seen productions like this before.  Each class has a program that they do after school.  This means that they put on a 60-70 minute show highlighting their class and king candidate.  One class did a karaoke show, one group did athletic stunts, three groups had famous Hungarian actors come and be present on their behalf, it’s been really interesting to watch.  The one common theme is that the students do things to make teachers look stupid.  The karaoke contest was between students and teachers, the sports activity had teachers participate, one program had teachers in an eating contest – it really has no limits.  I participated in two of the programs, both against my own will, but I couldn’t say no.  For the first program, I was given a pink polo shirt with a black playboy bunny on it – you may remember the shirts from the Salagavato dances – it’s the same class.  I was initially asked if I could attend their program.  It was the first one, so I wasn’t really sure what to expect.  Of course I would go… it sounds interesting.  The next day, I was informed that I would be Britney Spears and that I would sing four songs.  Wait – what?!  How did this go from me attending to me participating.  I was told by one girl that I would be the star of the show.  What?  This is exactly how I got into the movie mess… I said I would do one song – with karaoke lyrics and the actual song in the background.  They agreed… so I began to half heartedly practice “oops I did it again”  only to find out the day of the performance that – oops, they’d done it again.  There were no words (so I scrambled to print off the lyrics so I had something to work with).  There was no Britney in the background singing- it was straight up a keyboard and some kid who had graduated from the school.  There was no practice involved, and in the middle of the program they called me up to sing.  Seriously?!?!  The keyboardist asked me where I sang and I said “in the middle” and he started up.  Mind you – he started at the chorus, not the verse or the intro that I was expecting… and he was playing as if I sang bass.  Oh man- could it get any worse?  Yes it could.  I had backup dancers.  What?!!!  There were three cute girls who had rehearsed a routine to be the backup dancers for my big performance.  Oh well – here goes nothing… and let me tell you – it was nothing… but horrible.  Ugh.

The second program that I participated in had me in front of the school reading a Hungarian poem.  This poem is apparently one that every Hungarian child learns and so everyone knows it.  It’s called “mother’s chicken” (translated).  I was told that I would read the poem (which has 6 stanzas might I add) and a famous Hungarian actor would act out the poem.  I was not sure how that I was going to go, but I agreed – and began practicing.  I spent at least 6 hours practicing this poem.  I worked on it with my 9^th graders, and I listened to a recording of it on You Tube several dozen times.  Have I mentioned how difficult Hungarian as a language is?!  The day of the program, things were organized in a very Hungarian manner – which means, go with the flow.  I was told that they’d point at me when it was my turn.  Remember, this actor involved has never spoken to me, and we haven’t practiced exactly how he was going to “act” out the Mother’s Chicken poem, so I didn’t really know what to expect.  The actor was given instructions in Hungarian, and I began.  He was standing well within my personal bubble, and I was nervous enough as it is, so I stopped, looked at him and said point blank “why are you so close to me?”  He responded in English with “I don’t know – this is where they told me to stand.”  At this point, the emcees of the show stepped in and reiterated the instructions to Peter, and then he began to do what he thought was the expectation of him.  I’d read a stanza, and he’d say funny things about why it was written.  Then I’d read a stanza, and he’d make funny remarks.  He was evidently quite funny since the whole place was laughing – but I made him feel uncomfortable by asking what he was saying and stating that I didn’t trust him.  It was quite an awkward exchange, but I suppose that’s what made it funny in the end.  At any rate, I was congratulated on my near perfect pronunciation (yeah right) and finally my time in the spotlight was over.  Phew.  Now… all I have left to do is survive the showing of the movie I was in… wish me luck!!!