Alex is abroad in Munich, Germany, until August 2009.

It wasn’t until recently when I was comparing stories from classes at LMU, the German university that I attend, with my program friends, that I realized just how awkward university classes can be for us here.  Let’s take one of my classes as an example: Marketing Communication is a course that I chose for a few reasons, the first of which is I have never had formal marketing training, despite working as a marketing intern this past summer. Since NU doesn’t have a wide selection of business communication classes, I thought this would be a great way to try to snag some School of Communications credit for a foreign course.

Things first went awry in the process of registration.  I previously wrote about my city-wide witch hunt for places to register. This class was one of those that slipped through the cracks and my program director had to take over registering for me.  That translated to him sending an email off to the professor explaining that I desperately needed this course to graduate and that I would have to go home if I didn’t take it.  Okay so a program director that stretches the truth isn’t too bad, but unfortunately included in that email was “she is an American.”  Strike one.

It is not bad to be identified as an American because the Germans are very interested in American culture and will at least want to congratulate us on the results of the election.  But I usually try to fly under the radar and pass as a European in class, because then the German students don’t alter the way they talk to me. (For example, my neighbor is still convinced I am half-deaf and speak no German because he speaks obscenely loudly and mind-blowingly slowly to me).  I walked into the small, over-crowded classroom full of older students, and took a seat in the corner on my first day of Marketing Communication.  The professor began the class on time (Shocker! Classes are usually expected to start 15 minutes late, officially), and started rattling off his credentials, one of which was travel.  While discussing the difference in customer service in different countries, he naturally brought up the U.S. and proudly announced, “We have an American who can help us with that information though,” then turned and looked directly at me, “that is you correct?”  This moment was like in high school when the teacher announced test grades, and revealed who broke the curve and ruined everyone’s grade.  I nodded, blushed, and he motioned and said, “well she will surely be helping us along this semester.”  My cover was officially blown.

As the class progressed I spent a great deal of time observing the other people in the class.  Everyday I have to get there early in order to get a seat, and as I watched people enter in small groups I saw that there were Russians, Ukrainians, and Argentineans.  The realization that I was not the only international student was in this situation not reassuring, though, because the rest of the students were never called out by the professor for their nationality and also seemed to be about 100% more proficient in German than I am.  That feeling was only exacerbated by my old, spacey professor who every time an English term came up in discussion (they frequently do, because in America is fairly progressive in marketing), would turn to me and question, “that is spelled correctly, right?” then swivel around to the class and announce, for the nth time, “we have a native speaker with us.”  In any other circumstance it would be fun to have people asking me about English, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that everyone was sighing and rolling their eyes.  That is until this past class.

I finally got to sit next to one of the younger guys in the class and talk to him a little.  In this class when the professor asked me about an English term, the guy would look over at me with an understanding chuckle and make fun of the old professor under his breath.  Finally, someone to commiserate with! Unfortunately, this professor assumes that I am a full-blown marketing expert, and in this class he said a ridiculously long word in German, looked at me and asked, “in English that is…?” Oh boy, heart racing, I just gave an innocent shrug, and after a horrendously long awkward pause he wrote “data mining,” on the board. Data mining? Seriously? How in the world was I supposed to know that ridiculous term?  Just as I was about to slump as far into my seat as possible, the guy to my right looked at me and said sarcastically, “Oh data mining! How could you have not gotten that one?”  The feeling of relief that comes with being in a foreign classroom and finally having someone want to relate and talk to you is indescribably great.

In German classrooms it is very common for students to collectively and blatantly tease the professors.  Though I risk giving the professors a bad impression of me, I usually laugh along with the other students, because having an understanding with my fellow classmates is more valuable to me than making a fantastic academic impression.  When I can become a part of that social community, I finally feel like I belong in the class and that I am just another one of the students.  My American isolation falls to the wayside and my German improves because I am not nervous or alone.

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