Wrestling, Writing, and Role-Modeling: ETA Samantha Hauff Goes to the Mat for Montana

Hi, Sam! For readers who haven’t met you yet, how do you usually introduce yourself in Bulgaria?

“Sam” is the nickname I’ve gone by most of my life. Only my parents and grandma call me “Samantha” back in the States, but here in Bulgaria, I’ve switched back to it. Why? Well, my students pointed out that “Sam” translates to “alone” in Bulgarian. I’ve jokingly dubbed my name the “loneliest word in the Bulgarian language,” but I’d rather not have people hear me say “I am Sam” and think I’m saying “I’m lonely!” So here in Bulgaria, I’m introducing myself as Samantha.

That said, my students have a whole collection of names for me: Ms. Hauff, Samantha, Ms. Sam, Miss… and my reigning favorite, “HEY, TEACHER!”

You’ve said you love your life in the Bulgarian Northwest. What does a great day in Montana look like for you, and what has helped make the city feel like home?

A great day at Petar Bogdan Language High School usually starts with a vending machine espresso and a handful of “Hellos!” and “Good Mornings!” from students in the schoolyard. From there, it’s a full day of lessons, with some of the most eager students already having reviewed my presentations on my website. The afternoons and evenings are filled with coaching BEST practices, wrestling at training gyms—whether in Montana or Vratsa—or hanging out at the local coffee shop for coffee hours with students. Every day is bustling with new adventures.

Montana is unlike anywhere I’ve been, but it’s exactly what I needed. Even when I’m traveling across Europe with friends or on solo excursions, I always find myself longing to come back. It feels like home because I’ve put in the effort to make it one.

Before my plane departed from the U.S. to come to Bulgaria, I wrote this in my journal “I do not come into this year at a crossroads in my career but rather at a crossroads within myself. Where I fully hope to make something of myself, but also fully hope to make the year nothing about myself at all.”

Looking back on my first three months in Montana, I can say that the place has been where those hopes have started to take shape. It’s a place that’s taught me humility—when to step up and lead, and when to step back and learn. In making the year about my students and community, they’ve made it about me, too. My strong support system of co-teachers, eager students, and wrestling partners always ready to train has made me feel like I truly belong.

In a place where I was supposed to be a stranger, I don’t feel strange at all.

In Samuel R. Pickering’s essay about his Fulbright year in Syria in 1980-81, he wrote about how his students were astonished by his sneakers. No other professor at his university in Latakia wore them, and none of them dusted their own chalkboards or did the everyday tasks of a working person. His students said to him, “We honor your shoes. You come to work.”

What might just be a style or cultural difference really got me thinking: How do I wear the shoes of my students? How do I do that work?

I think the answer lies in embracing the humbleness of serving your community. Which doesn’t mean making yourself small, but also not taking up all the space in a room. To let perspectives other than your own speak louder, and to truly listen. To value the culture you exist in—listen to their stories, learn their words, embrace their world. Then, you walk in the same shoes as your community.

This has been the goal of my work in Montana.

You’ve taught and coached in rural communities in the American South and now in Northwest Bulgaria. Do you notice any similarities in your students’ lives, challenges, or sense of humor?

A hundred percent. I’d say the general sentiment toward people from the Deep South in the U.S. is very similar to how Northwest Bulgaria is often viewed. Both regions tend to be painted with negative stereotypes, but in my experience, they’re home to some of the most authentic, caring, and hardworking people in their respective countries. I often find myself connecting with my students over those simpler, “country folk” things, and those shared understandings have deepened our relationships in ways I didn’t expect.

I’m from rural Georgia, about an hour outside of Atlanta. My family lives on a piece of land in the country, and the people in my life are often labeled “rednecks,” “hillbillies,” or “hicks”—terms meant to describe folks who work with their hands, live off the land, and are assumed to be undereducated. What I love about where I’m from, though, is that many people wear those labels like a badge of honor rather than an insult. They spin these things around, flip them on their head for good. The South holds some of the richest culture in the U.S., stunning natural beauty, and the most hospitable people you’ll meet. To reduce it to a monolith of ignorance or backwardness is to miss so much of what the South truly is.

I see many of those same qualities in Northwest Bulgaria. The people’s connection to the land—the foothills of the Balkan Mountains remind me so much of the rolling Appalachians. The instinct to lend a helping hand. The pride in folk and country music, local traditions, and art. The ability to slow down and live deliberately. Neither place is focused on living fast, but rather on living with roots—in family, friendship, and culture. And, of course, the irreverent sense of humor that Southerners know all too well. Back home, when something unusual happens, we’d say, “Well, that’s Barrow County for y’all.” Now, I find myself in the same kind of situations, rolling my eyes with the locals and saying, “Typical Northwest.”

One of the biggest similarities between how I approached teaching and coaching in the rural South and how I teach in Bulgaria is the importance of challenging stereotypes—and letting doubt become fuel. In both places, I’ve seen limited resources, disengagement, and the constant reinforcement of harmful narratives from their communities and the countries at large. Over time, those narratives can shape how students see themselves and what they believe is possible.

My goal as a teacher and community leader is to show students that the status quo isn’t a life sentence—it’s a mold meant to be broken. Whether that’s telling young girls in South Carolina that they absolutely belong on the wrestling mat alongside the boys or encouraging students in Bulgaria to chase a good grade, go to university, dream bigger, and do the hard thing. It matters to these students more because nothing was handed to them, and nothing was expected of them. Instead, it’s something they chose to fight for—something they made for themselves.

You’ve talked about low engagement being a challenge when you were substitute teaching in the US. What are some strategies you now use to get students here excited about speaking, writing, or performing?

Always keep the energy high. There’s a saying: give your 100% in all that you do. But as teachers, there are some days when we walk into the classroom and our battery is only at 50 or 60%. I think the mark of a good teacher is giving students 100% of what you do have to give, even on days when that’s only 50%. Being a good role model means showing that you’re excited to teach, which allows students to be excited to learn. They are at an age where everything feels scary, embarrassing, and weird. Showing them that you’re battling those things too—that you, though a figure of authority, are just as human as they are—is very important.

Also, be unconventional. Unconventionality is a superpower when it comes to engaging students. It’s what makes them remember what you teach them. Let them question you and look at you strangely when you teach something they’ve never seen taught that way. They might give you a weird look. They may laugh. But they’re looking. They’re talking. They’re remembering. Your unconventionality is impactful and memorable.

My students may look at me a little strangely when I bring a plastic rose to class and recite Shakespeare to show them the cultural importance of names:

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.”

I ask them if my plastic rose would still smell as sweet if I name it “Bob” (which notably means “beans” in Bulgarian). A question which receives chuckles and absurdist answers.

But then I ask them if they would be the same if they had an American name, or if I would be the same if I had a Bulgarian name. I respond to their mixed answers with the question: “Then why does your name matter? What’s in your name?”

Unconventionality allows you to dig below the surface level to reveal deeper, more pressing cultural questions—questions that we, as Fulbright ETAs, come here both to ask and to answer.

How did you first fall in love with wrestling, and what keeps you coming back to the sport?

I fell in love with wrestling because of the honesty of it. Wrestling is a sport that requires nothing but yourself, yet demands every part of who you are. It shows how you live, how you train, and how you prepare your mind.

I’ll always come back to wrestling because it’s taught me how to live my life. Even through multiple injuries, surgeries, and setbacks, my love for the sport has never wavered. If I couldn’t wrestle, I coached. If my right arm was out, I’d train with only my left.

Wrestling has taught me there are no excuses, no shortcuts to greatness in life. So I still train, and I’ll always coach.

Though girls in combat sports aren’t very popular where I am in Bulgaria (there are a few standout girls, however!), there’s something special about seeing teenage boys light up when I tell them I’m a wrestler, when they ask to train with me, rate their push-up form, or when we’re cutting it up after class, talking about the GOATs of wrestling and MMA. In my teaching, I feel like I’ve been able to reach and gain the respect of so many students because of our shared love for combat sports. In a region where Greco-Roman wrestling, Sambo, and Judo reign, I’ve been able to teach freestyle wrestling while also learning new styles from both the kids in my community and high-level Bulgarian team wrestlers and coaches.

Do you think the discipline and commitment we develop through sports help us navigate life’s challenges better?

Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. I wouldn’t be the person I am today if I hadn’t found wrestling in high school. High school is such an awkward time to be alive, and I truly believe all students need two things: one thing they’re passionate about and one adult who believes in them along the way.

For me, that was wrestling—and my high school wrestling coaches, Randy Hill and Jason Muehling.

Wrestling shaped the way I live my life, but it was those coaches who shaped how I saw myself and my abilities. The sport taught me important lessons, but my coaches taught me how to apply those lessons in everyday life. Sports definitely teach us values that help us get through life. But it’s that teacher, that coach, the one who helps you believe those values really mean something—that’s what makes the real difference.

Do you have any athletic goals you’re pursuing while in Bulgaria?

Teaching is my number one priority, but like I said, I live my life like a wrestler. So, if the opportunity comes up to compete, I’d jump at the chance to test myself overseas. After my recent knee surgeries, I’ve focused more on learning and growing in the sport while I’m here, and sharing what I know with others. Living with a healthy body and mind is my biggest goal right now—everything else is secondary, but my own athletic career is definitely worth chasing once I’ve got that balance.

Apart from being an athlete, you’re also an award-winning journalist and a published poet, and you’ve edited a literary journal. How does your writing life influence your teaching style?

Writing has always been a cornerstone in my life. It’s where I reflect on my past and imagine where I’m going. Every week, I make time to jot down my little memories—those stories that are important, but still haven’t been told enough. Even with a million other things on my plate, I still take the time to write down lessons, anecdotes, one-liners, big wins in the classroom, and epic fails—week after week. I hope to turn these into a collection of essays in the near future.

With my students, I’ve been working with the English student newspaper as their editor, and mentoring a few students who are interested in journalistic writing. One of my students even scored an interview with a member of the Bulgarian National volleyball team after their silver medal finish at the World Championships. I helped guide her through the ins and outs of sports journalism—crafting interview questions, writing a lede, framing a sports story, and developing style. I also donated my university journalism textbooks and reference guides to the paper to help them improve their media reporting skills.

By sharing my own poetry and prose, I’ve had students open up and share theirs with me, asking for guidance on how to express themselves more clearly through writing. Writing is all about expression—and teaching is too. If I leave Bulgaria with a few students who feel more confident expressing themselves through writing and speech, then I’ll feel like my time here was worth every minute.

When you look at the months ahead, what would give you the most satisfaction as a teacher, writer, health advocate, and athlete? Is there something you’re hoping to start, build, or achieve while in Bulgaria?

As a teacher, I hope to continue with the momentum I’ve built in this first semester and keep building meaningful connections. I’ve got a few bucket list items for my time in Bulgaria, and I’ll be pretty happy if I can tick off even just a few of them:

• Run a successful English book club
• Watch my students bring home some speech and debate awards with the BEST team at nationals
• Hold a wrestling clinic to spark more interest in the sport
• Host writing workshops to help students develop their creative writing skills
• Get some American sports equipment and teach my students a few of the sports we love back home
• Support some initiatives that are personal to me like awareness for mental health and endometriosis
• Write and share some living-memoir essays about my life and time here

Good luck, Ms. Sam, with this ambitious and inspiring bucket-list of wrestling, writing and role-modeling!