Thursday, April 02, 2009
George School essay
Any recent visitor to this blog has observed the fine writing skills displayed by the TigerHawk Teenager, who will graduate from George School in Bucks County, PA, in the next few months, and then matriculate to a fine institution of higher learning.
Writing skills have always been a hallmark of students at George School. Last year, while going through some family archives, I discovered my late mother's senior essay at George School, dated 67 years ago. It was printed in the Friends Intelligencer later in 1942 (the school being a Quaker institution), by which time my mother was a freshman at Barnard College in New York. I present it here unedited for your review.
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What America Means to Me
by Evi Bossanyi
The day of September 11, 1936, was warm, bright, and sunshiny when my mother led me down the gangplank of the Ile de France to set foot on American soil for the first time. The day did not seem so bright to me because I was not only homesick but had been seasick as well. As a matter of fact, had I been able I should have turned the boat around and sailed right back to a European harbor, and from there gone straight to the city of Budapest, where I was born and lived until I was eleven years old. It was too late for that, however, and after prolonged customs formalities we proceeded to my future home in Pennsylvania.
I landed in this country with my English vocabulary consisting of two words, "yes" and "hello." Within a few weeks this was enlarged with the assistance of a charming young teacher for whose guidance I shall always be grateful. Three weeks after my arrival I was put in a small country school. Coming in contact with American children, having pleasant experiences with American teachers, and finding the friendly companionship between teachers and students, awakened a new interest in me, and courage too.
Those first days now seem far away. I have no actual recollection of going to school where, for some time, I could not say a word to any of my classmates or understand what they said to me. There are, however, two incidents I do remember, both of which happened daring my first days at school, and now I can look back on them and find them amusing.
When recess came my teacher put me in the charge of a friendly girl who, of course, began speaking English. Naturally her words meant nothing to me. I must have looked very puzzled and kept on saying, "Don't understand," which was about the limit of my English. Soon I discovered that I had become the center of attention, but I could imagine no reason why people were staring at me. I had arms and legs. I saw that I was built like these American children, and I felt that I looked the same. But they were evidently as much puzzled as I was. It wasn't long before I discovered them pointing at my little white apron, which I wore as was the custom in my former school in Budapest. I then looked around and found to my great surprise that not one of the girls wore aprons.
That struck me as being very strange, because in my Hungarian school the apron, as a part of our uniform, was compulsory. I quickly became tired of the unusual popularity of my aprons and decided not to wear them anymore.
The second incident involved an international situation. I was very patriotic and loyal to my old country. After the First World War the school regulations in Hungary became strict concerning patriotism. By the Treaty of Trianon, two-thirds of Hungary's territory was taken away -- territory which had been a part of Hungary for over a thousand years. From the time of this treaty Hungary mourned and her flags always waved at half-mast. In the morning before classes started all schools prayed for the return of the lost provinces, and their students saluted the Hungarian flags which were placed in every classroom. When I came to an American school and saw everyone salute the American flag I naturally could not bring myself to join them, because it had been just a few weeks earlier that I had been saluting the Hungarian flag. My schoolmates did not approve of this, and after school a little boy came over to me and said something in a threatening manner, which I later learned meant that I would be shot as a spy if I did not salute the American flag the next time. I can well remember how I cried in fear of such horrible death.
From this period my new life developed very quickly. Everybody was kind and friendly, and that aided me tremendously in settling down to my new life in my new country. Even with my childish but very sensitive feelings I recognized that America was giving me a chance to live and grow up under conditions better in so many ways than those I should have experienced in the country in which I was born, reasonably free and enlightened as it was. This privilege of growing up in a free country is indeed to be valued, and those who have never experienced any but life in America cannot appreciate the good fortune to which they were so luckily born.
America means a myriad of advantages -- advantages which are difficult to enumerate. What America means in terms of the spirit is almost impossible to list. Freedom in its many manifestations is the first and most vital. But there are many everyday things which to a European start out by being astounding and to which he never becomes fully accustomed -- little things like going to school where cruel punishments are regarded as primitive and not to be used; fresh vegetables in the middle of winter; magnificent fruit throughout the year; ice and butter at every meal; rapid and cheap transportation; steam heating; unlimited hot water. These are just a few of the common details of life which make such a big difference in the living of it. Everyone marvels at the overwhelming variety to be found in the average five and ten cent store, but only someone from Central Europe can completely appreciate the wonder of these many things coming from all parts of the world and sold here for so little money.
A year after my arrival I was fortunate enough to be placed in the care of a tutor who had an unusual knowledge of English and a remarkable ability in teaching it. As a result I became well grounded in the basic principles of the language. At this time I was transferred to a larger country school, where I worked to prepare for the entrance tests the following year for George School. Entering George School, I had the opportunity of a splendid education placed within my reach, and I proceeded to do my best to take advantage of it. In George School, even more than in public school, the friendly relationship between teachers and students continued to amaze me, particularly when I remembered those martinets in Europe who used to frighten the wits out of me. In the primary schools in Hungary the students called their teachers Aunt and Uncle So-and-So (whatever their first name happened to be). In the higher schools students addressed their teachers as Professor Mr. So-and-So. Teachers in Hungary were government officials, and they made sure that the students were aware of that. Actually in Hungarian one does not say Mr. Professor, but Professor Mr. The full title is -- first, a complimentary one; then follow the family name, given name, professional title, and then Mr., Miss, or Mrs.
In Hungary coeducational schools in the primary and higher grades are unknown. In primary schools boys and girls have separate entrances to the same building and completely separate classes. In higher schools boys and girls have completely separate buildings, and it is only in the university that the two sexes attend classes together. The American system in which boys and girls study and play games together seemed very strange to me at first, of course, but it does seem to be in every way much more reasonable.
Hungarian life in general is as different from the American as their school system. Budapest is a city of more than a million inhabitants, practically all of whom live in apartments. Extremely few families live in one house by themselves. After the First World War the coal mines and woodlands of Hungary were taken away. Consequently there was very little fuel. There is some central heating, but not much. Instead, one or more porcelain stoves are used. Apartments usually consist of a kitchen, bathroom, and a number of rooms which are simply four walls, as built-in closets are unknown. Closets are considered as pieces of furniture and are part of the individual's possessions.
There is very little entertaining done in the home. It is done mostly in cafes and restaurants, which are larger and much more luxurious than I have seen in this country.
When I came here I found that we stayed home a great deal. It seemed to me odd that there were no cafes, particularly the delightful out-of-doors restaurants for which Budapest is so famous.
These, however, are only the externals, and it is the spirit of America which seems more important and significant to me. The average American doesn't really count his blessings. That is only natural because he has been born to all that America offers, and he knows nothing of a world without those blessings. In many ways America is indeed a New World. Here there is special consideration for women and children and great protection for them under the law. In America there is real freedom of speech and press, and the matter of a person's religion is his own private affair, with all the advantages of having no official state religion. Even in little details like freedom of travel the contrast is enormous. Until a person has lived in Europe he has no idea of the difficulty of travel there. How wonderful it is to be able to cover the huge area between our Atlantic and Pacific Coasts without a passport or visas and without having to pay customs duties at frequent intervals! Today we see many soldiers on American streets, but that is nothing new in Europe, where military service has been compulsory for hundreds of years.
In the European tradition there is a wealth of folklore far beyond anything known here; but the American tradition, only a few hundred years old, is a living inspiration to protect the liberties that were so gallantly fought for and won. Though I have been here only six years, I have learned to value deeply the share I have in these liberties. With profound fervor I too can say: May they always be preserved! I am truly grateful for the opportunity of calling myself an American, a title I shall cherish and honor forever!
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5 Comments:
By 
Steve Burri, at
Thu Apr 02, 06:37:00 PM:
Let me get this straight. Your mom wrote this at age 17 or so and only began learning the language 6 years previous?
With those insights and language skills, she must be quite a woman.
There goes my Hungarian stereotyping. Before this my only known experience of Hungarians was through Zsa Zsa and Eva Gabor!
Great essay!
By Escort81, at
Thu Apr 02, 07:28:00 PM:
Steve - Thank you for your thoughts. She did write this essay about 6 years after coming to the U.S. Her mother and step-father hired an excellent tutor for her to help her learn English, and they remained life-long friends. The tutor made some very moving remarks at my mother's memorial service in 1990 (she died right around the time The Wall came down and the Soviet Bloc opened up, and sadly never returned to her original home).
Before she came to the States, she spoke French, German, Italian and of course Hungarian (which is not a Romance Language), so she had the ability to learn languages. It is fairly common in Central Europe to speak three or more languages.
Undoubtedly, the instruction at George School helped her writing skills, which is why we see the same result in the TH Teenager a couple of generations later.
The Gabor sisters were entertaining in their time (heck, I liked Green Acres) but were never meant to be a good sample of of Hungarian women.
By Cas, at
Fri Apr 03, 04:37:00 AM:
TH-
Can you send this to Pres Obama, and the rest of the Dem Leadership in Congress, to remind them just what American Exceptionalism used to mean?
That is, before we became just like Europe...
By Noumenon, at
Fri Apr 03, 09:12:00 AM:
Oh, I thought this was TigerHawk's mom. It's still pretty impressive, it's just once removed from "I know that guy, and he has that kind of mom?"
By 
, at
Sun Apr 05, 12:02:00 PM:
I would draw the reader’s attention to the last sentence, "I am truly grateful for the opportunity of calling myself an American, a title I shall cherish and honor forever!"
Notice that after only 7 years in the U.S. and now a citizen, she choose to forgo the hyphenated American designation. How refreshing!
