Strike, Stoltzen and Sayonara

I'm on strike. Well, not just me, but a lot of teachers around the country. We've been on strike for a week now, and I must say that I'm enjoying my first strike. I'm enjoying it even though I did not know that there were so many things you have to do while on strike: being a strike guard -guarding the school entrances making sure that no one who's on strike tries to enter the school, and that none of those not on strike does the work we are supposed to do -, going to the striker's cafe, attending various strike meetings, and not to forget talking to the press. I don't know why, but in my young(er) days, when I was desperately seeking the attention of the media, the media did simply not seem to be interested. But now, when I've come to a realization that I'm actually not that eager to get publicity, journalists have a way of singling me out. So I've talked to no less than two (2!) journalists since the strike started, and who knows what the number might be when - if ever - this strike is over. So, what are we striking for, you might ask. It is as simple as this: In the richest country of the world, education is simply not prioritized. That means that you have better chances to get a well paid job with no, or hardly any education than you have after studying 7 years at the university, as I have. Education does simply not pay! This we want to change; it should be attractive to teach, but alas it is not, because it is not well paid. How will the politicians change the negative trends in international surveys, like PISA, if they will not make it attractive to become teachers? They won't, so we're on strike.

A couple of days ago, two girlfriends and I walked for the first time this year up a steep hill called Stoltzekleiven. It is not long, but it is very steep, with stone steps almost all the way, so it is quite a challenge for the legs. It is not what you would call a nice outing - it is blood, sweat and tears, not to mention a lot of heavy breathing - but when you reach the top, hopefully a few seconds sooner than the last time you did this, and you take in the spectacular view of Bergen, it is definitely worth it.

Today the Hungarians left. They ended up staying four weeks, unfortunately without getting a job in the city. I grew quite fond of them after the initial chattering, and I was sad to see them leave. Sure, Mr. Chatterbox and I had our disputes - like when he told me to buy wiener sausages instead of grill, failing to comprehend that I actually prefer grill - but the good thing about people who are upfront is that you can be just as upfront back, leaving no room for discontented murmuring behind each other's backs.

They have surely been a blessing to us. These last two weeks, they have had dinner ready for us every day when we got back from work (or strike), they have made a table from year 2000 and a piano from 1829 look new again, and as already mentioned they actually created a garden out of wilderness in the back of our house. Mr. Chatter (among other things) is a painter, and we now have no less than five of his paintings in our possession. I really hope our paths will cross again, and that I once more will be able to get a headache from too much talk.

Lastly: Rune Rudberg allegedly slept with 1000 women (but I'm sure this number has increased by now), and as for Kafka: I am still only on 1.5 pages. What's wrong with me?