Yawn hates me.
Jan, like the other Czechs, doesn’t approve of us American kids because our study abroad program is easy stupidy stuff. Our class is a joke, not like real European universities, where the students have to fight for the few coveted spots.
Jan hates me. He has thin blond hair tied into a ponytail, and his name is pronounced yawn—not like the American girl’s name Jan. Our Czech Foreign Relations class has just ended and it’s Friday. This is Jan’s country, but class is in English. I’m not smart or dedicated enough to learn a second language, but I have money and I’ll pay to sit in their classrooms as long as they teach in my language. At first I thought Jan hated me because our professor Dr Hasek likes me so much. All the kids in class (American, British, Luxembourgian, and Czech) get annoyed with my enthusiasm for Czech history.
Jan, like the other Czechs, doesn’t approve of us American kids because our study abroad program is easy stupidy stuff. Our class is a joke, not like real European universities, where the students have to fight for the few coveted spots. He has a point though; I would never attend an Economics University in the US. Jan says it’s a waste for students like me to go abroad for only one semester. He says that’s not enough time. I try and show him how smart I am. I’m always correcting his English and talking about my favorite American television shows. Maybe he’s just a mean person.
“Na Sled, Jan.” I smile and suck in my cheeks as I say good day to him. Come on Janny, like me. I just want your country to like me. Maybe he’ll be surprised by how skinny my face can suddenly look. He meets my glance, but doesn’t hold it for long. He just makes his lips extend and contract quickly and walks away.
I’ve gotten really good at pronouncing about seven Czech words. I know the right syllables to stress and when to ascend my tone. I say it like I’m real. I like to walk down the streets and say a perfect ‘DOB ree den’ to some old man walking by. If he thinks I’m Czech, I’ve succeeded.