Amy Donnella

Oh, Romania! Oh, Studenți!! My Remarkable Fulbright Experience

Unlike many of my fellow Fulbrighters, I had no natural ties to Romania. I had no Romanian relatives, knew nothing of its natural beauty, was vaguely aware of its modern history under communism but ignorant of its history prior to the mid-1900’s. I had no professional ties there and, before being accepted to the program, I didn’t speak a word of the language. I applied to teach at the law school at the University of Bucharest because of a survey I’d found online that seemed to say — it was written in Romanian — that, although Romania hadn’t had death sentencing for 35 years, a third of Romanian law students would welcome its return. As a lawyer who has spent more than 40 years defending people sentenced to death in the United States, I thought that a young population that had no experience with death sentencing or executions might benefit from learning about the American death penalty system, which I believe is ill-conceived, inhumane and incompatible with modern legal principles.

It never occurred to me when I applied for the Fulbright that I would fall in love with Romania.

From September, 2024, through January, 2025, I lived and taught in Bucharest — “little Paris.” I grew to love it for its trees and fountains and parks; for its first-class restaurants and wonderful (and cheap) Romanian treats like mici, sarmale and covrigi; for its world-renowned, acoustically-perfect but highly-accessible music venues including the Athenaeum, the National Opera House, and Sala Radio Concert Hall; for its thriving Old City, packed with shops, eateries, and tiny (and not so tiny) museums; for its minute grocery stores that magically carry every item you could ever need within a space the size of a small apartment; for its single magnificent remaining synagogue where I attended High Holiday services and its many ornate Orthodox churches. I loved waking up on Sunday mornings to the sound of Gregorian chant and the bells from the monastery on the hill near my apartment on Bulevardul Unirii. I spent every night for a month at the Christmas market down the block from me that emerged in front of the monstrous Palace of the Parliament, and which sold all manner of Romanian crafts, traditional foods, mulled wine, and the best hot chocolate I’ve ever tasted. I loved the friends I made among other Fulbrighters, and the incomparable staff at the Romania Fulbright Commission, who never flagged in their support for us and helped us through every bump in the road with their uniquely Romanian senses of wisdom and humor. 

While I didn’t travel nearly enough outside of Bucharest during my stay, I tremendously enjoyed my time in Brașov, nestled in the Carpathian mountains, with its central pedestrian square and its blend of architectural styles; Sighișoara, a still-inhabited fortified medieval town; Sinaia, with its magnificent Peleș castle, built at the turn of the 19th to 20th century, with its grandeur and magnificent surroundings and the technology employed by King Carol including hydro-electric power that generated central heat, air-conditioning and vacuum capabilities; Viscri, site of a famous monastery and British King Charles’ hunting lodge; and Bran, home of the castle that haunts so many nightmares but that was actually a residence of Romania’s beloved Queen Marie. I am fascinated by the fact that Romania’s geography, sitting as it does at the strategic crossroads of Europe and Asia, has made it the target of constant attempts by its neighbors — Romans, Ottomans, Hungarians, Austrians, Germans, Slavs — to conquer it and claim its abundant natural resources, and has resulted in the richness of its language, dress, food, customs, folklore, and architecture. 

But what I loved most about Romania — and nothing else comes close — were my students. I taught two courses at the Facultatea de Drept, Universitatea din București. Murder Most Foul was the class I taught about the death penalty in the United States. Freedoms at Risk, which I taught at the behest of faculty colleagues, surveyed the ways recent politics and court decisions in the U.S. have collided with values traditionally cherished by both Americans and Romanians, like the rule of law, the peaceful transition of government, freedom of thought, and the right to privacy and to autonomy over one’s own body. Hundreds of students expressed interest in taking each of these courses, despite their crowded schedules and the fact that they would get no academic credit for attending.

I was continually amazed by my students’ command of English. Virtually all of my students understood it without difficulty. Many of them spoke and wrote it with panache. One student was so well read, I struggled to find anything written in English that she hadn’t yet read. She, in turn, introduced me to English translations of Romanian poetry and translated into English for me decisions from the Romanian Constitutional Court.

I was deeply touched by how unfailingly kind and generous my students were. Some of them took me sightseeing around Bucharest. One, who disagreed with my views on capital punishment, nevertheless brought me a dessert on Thanksgiving. Several others offered to serve as my family for the holiday, knowing I would otherwise be celebrating it alone. Students often brought homemade traditional treats to class for me to taste. Numerous students contributed confections to a party we had on the final day of class.  Students offered me travel advice, tips on where to go shopping, suggestions for museums to visit (and not to visit). One student unexpectedly brought me a 2011 English language version of the criminal code that she had procured because the current code isn’t available in English. One student, whom I was trying to dissuade from buying a gun, told me not to worry about being polite with him — that Romanians believed in disagreeing with gusto. Two students gave me hand-made gifts for my grandson who was born during the semester. Amazing stuff, all of it.

It surprised me how deeply engaged my students were. Week after week, they actively participated in class, asking and answering questions, expressing their opinions, volunteering for debates and mock jury selection. Week after week, students came to talk to me during the break or stayed after class to continue our conversations. One student stayed after almost every class and frequently walked me part of the way home so we could keep talking about far-ranging subjects. Sometimes, the students wanted to delve more deeply into topics we had addressed in class. Sometimes, they wanted to get my opinion about something going on in Romanian politics.  (It was a fascinating, if scary, time as both countries were going through presidential campaigns that had our nations deeply divided over fundamental issues.) Sometimes, they just wanted to talk about their personal or career choices. When two American magistrates visiting the embassy came to class, students asked them respectful but tough questions. Twenty students showed up for class during a vacation week after New Years for an informal session with me and two of my American friends who were visiting — a gay married couple. Students asked them their views on many things about the U.S., not about gay marriage.

Our conversations in and out of class demonstrated the students’ uncompromising commitment to the principles of democracy and the equality of rights. In their little spare time, many of these students were protesting against fascist politicians, attending seminars about women’s rights, advocating on behalf of various forms of injustice they saw in their lives and communities. Some of them questioned the authority of the Constitutional Court to make decisions to strike people seeking the presidency and cancel the election, even though they opposed the candidates who were negatively affected by those decisions. My students were troubled by the corruption in their government, and troubled that, despite the strict Romanian anti-corruption laws, the rest of the world perceived Romania as a place where corruption reigns unchecked.

I believe my relationships with my students built bridges of trust and understanding in both directions.  One student emailed last week to catch me up on her life and Romanian politics, and said that what she had learned in my class “continues to inform my activism and the way I view the world… .” Another said, “You opened our minds, you surprised us and you showed us how the world works.” A bit of hyperbole, to be sure, but I’m so glad she felt that way. An excerpt from a thank you note from a student:

“Throughout this semester, I deeply appreciated the fact that you created bridges between the legal and cultural contexts in the U.S. and Romania. It made for the kind of comparative study I love most! You happened to come in at a time of deep turmoil for us and for the U.S., and I want to thank you for the support you provided for me — both through your excellent recommendations and through the honest conversations you were willing to have. The fact that you were able to sit with the uncertainty and fear that we all experienced, instead of superficially dismissing our concerns, created precisely the space necessary for us to be able to look forward with resilience and relying on a shared sense of solidarity.”

(Yes, her command of English is that good and she provided much solace to me during the semester, as well!) I continue to correspond with a number of my students and I’m helping a couple of them apply for Fulbright in the U.S. 

A 1950’s American musical, The King and I, tells the story of Anna, an English woman, who travels to Siam (now Thailand) to serve as teacher to the king’s many children. Anna addresses a song to her new students, which opens with the lyric, “There’s a strange and ancient saying, but a true and honest thought, that when you become a teacher, by your pupils you’ll be taught.” My greatest wish is that I adequately conveyed to my students how much they taught me — that I learned far more from them than I could have learned from an entire library about Romania. 

Because of the connections we developed, my students and I are now better able to evaluate the strengths and shortcomings of our own nations, and can better appreciate that we share the same aspirations for justice and human rights, no matter how imperfectly our governments have managed so far to implement them. Despite the uncertain futures both our countries currently face, I am left with great hope.  

I can think of no greater value a Fulbright experience could achieve. România, te iubesc!