Lost in Translation: How a Redhead & Puppets Ruined My Hungarian Social Life

In the early 90s my family lived in Budapest (pronounced Buda-peSHt), Hungary for two-and-a-half years. Now, there are four Miller siblings. And one Miller Mother. That ratio does not lend itself to a successful homeschooling experience, as we discovered after about a week of attempting the feat. There was a bloody, near-death incident involving a pencil sharpener and a magic marker. We'll leave it at that. Off to Hungarian public school.

So I found myself in Hungarian 1st grade sitting next to a bilingual redhead, whom I developed a semi-crush on because she 1) spoke two languages impeccably well. 2) She was forced to talk to me constantly for the first year on account of my limited grasp of all things Hungarian. And 3) she was brilliant. In fact, I would put money on the fact that she is now a mathematician, understands string theory, and has a really nice pair of intellectual (but yet stylish) reading glasses. She's probably even trilingual. Damn it, Anita, I still want you.

I can't emphasize how rough those first few months were. Going into my first day of class, I only knew a couple phrases: I could say "Yes," "No," "Hello, my name is Stephen," and "Where is the bathroom?" The latter of those is still branded on my brain because Mom forced us to memorize a cheesy ditty with the Hungarian words in it. If you ask, I will sing it for you sometime. Then you, too, can simultaneously impress and nauseate that special Hungarian in your life.

Everyday just after lunch the class would split in two. Half (including Anita) would stick around and hang out in our class, the other half of us would be shipped upstairs to another room -- full of puppets! This Jim Henson wonderland seemed more than odd to me, but I figured, This must be theater class. If I can show these Hungarians anything, it's how Americans are superior thespians. One word: Hollywood, biotches!

We circled the chairs around, our teacher passed hand puppets out to about half the students, and they just began puppet-talking to one another. They seemed to be having very civil, cheerful conversation; I liked it -- until the instructor gave the signal to pass the puppets around the circle and frog puppet landed in my lap. This was my time. I calmly recited my four goto phrases with that amphibian on my hand. Uproarious laughter erupted from the entire circle. I was devastated, thinking my American accent had sold me out.

It wasn't until a couple months later that became aware that daily after lunch the class split in two for foreign language. I was in German class. English was downstairs.

Thanks for the heads up, Anita.


I forgive you, though -- you little trilingual, redheaded angel. Wherever you may be.

I Googled "Anita Redhead." This is what happened.