February 18, 2010
Remember Raju? I’ve told you about him before. He’s the cutest little 7 year old ever, with big eyes that betray every emotion that crosses his mind. Well, his English has improved exponentially, and we can now carry on a decent conversation (of course, it’s still at the level of a 7 year old, but, comprehendible for both parties!). He’ll run up to me and say, “Sister, Skip-Bo? Uno?!” And I just can’t help but to say “yes!” Or he’ll come up with big pleading eyes and say, “Sister, I need pencil.” Or “I need socks/toothbrush/insert any other necessity that a 7 year old can lose quickly here!” But really, he makes me laugh so much, so I had to share more of him with you!
The other day, I had one of those moments where I should have been the mature 23 year old sister, but I couldn’t help but respond as a 23 year old sister minus the maturity! You see, we were playing Uno in the sitting room, and one of the kids playing with us had to run out for a second. Well, his eyes began to sparkle as he gazed longingly around at all the couches adorning the walls fit for 16 children! Suddenly, he sprang from his crouched Uno position and exploded onto one of the couches and did the most perfect front flip, landing Indian-style on the seat. And I was like, “WHOA!” And I burst out laughing because of the sheer awesomeness and I couldn’t even scold him like I know I should have (you know your mom told you not to jump on the couch!). A huge grin plastered itself onto his tiny face and he did a couple more flips before deciding he better not push his luck. Then he was right back to his crouched position, ready to win another game of Uno. You would have never known that he had moved had you not seen him flipping!
Then, a few days later, he came wandering into the kitchen, looking for entertainment as so many 7 year old boys do, only to find Didi and I peeling and cutting potatoes for the curry. He looked on with mild interest which soon blossomed into intent interest as he found a large knife and began to peel a potato himself. I know, I know, you’re thinking, “what sort of missionary are you letting 7 year olds play with kitchen knives?!” But in that split second decision I had to choose whether to let him serve in his own special way or to take away his joy in helping us by taking the knife. Since the knife was pretty dull anyway, I let him continue to peel the potato. Didi and I watched with smiles on our faces as he peeled the one potato in the time it took us to peel and slice 15. But he helped. And when he finished peeling it, he walked over to me, washed it in the bowl of water and then gently cut it into small pieces and with an ear-to-ear smile put it onto the plate of potatoes for dinner. Totally worth the mild risk involved with letting a 7 year old boy peel a potato with large kitchen knives!
Finally, today after the kids ate I was sitting in the kitchen eating my rice, and in bounded Raju. He hopped onto the counter (another thing I shouldn’t let him do, but he can’t reach anything without climbing on the counter!) and grabbed a bowl. He then proceeded to search through the contents of his pocket until he came up with a couple of rubber bands which he proceeded to strap around the bowl. With amazement and wonder he gazed upon his deceptively simple creation. The end result: a two stringed miniature guitar. He then said “Sister! LOOK!” To which I praised his creative genius as he bounded out of the kitchen, strumming his new instrument. Oh to have the innocent awestruck wonder of a 7 year old!
Friday, February 19, 2010
Pure and Undefiled Religion... to help the orphans in distress...
February 18, 2010
As a teacher, I have many different personalities in my classroom. In class 5, the top 6 students are all girls who are well behaved and eager to learn and please me. One of these girls, whom I’ll call Alisha, is a small girl with a quiet personality and a shy smile. Left with her friends, though, you’ll hear her laughter dancing in the air as one of the other girls will catch her arm and pull her into whatever game they’re playing in the school yard. Her older brother is much like her- a good student, respectful, hardworking. They are well liked by both students and teachers alike.
On Sunday, I stayed home from school to give my leg one more day to heal and to pick up my X-rays from the hospital, and in the afternoon I walked over to the Cyber shop during our 2 hours of daylight power. On my way, I was surprised to meet up with the girls of class 9, including Rami and Ranjita. Their words all tumbled over one another, making it impossible for me to sort out why they weren’t in school and why they were walking as a pack down the street. Finally, I pieced together their reason, and I felt as though someone had knocked the air out of me. “Alisha’s mom died yesterday and we’re going to give her and her brother support!” I wasn’t sure I had understood correctly, so I asked them to repeat it one more time, with dread filling me as they repeated the same statement.
Astounded, I asked how it had happened. During the nights here it gets very cold, and while most nights the blankets are warm enough, some mornings you wake up shivering from the cold basking your exposed face. Alisha’s mom suffered from low blood pressure, and during the night the cold had caused her blood pressure to drop too low, and she never woke up in the morning. As their dad is who knows where (a common theme of the children here), Alisha slept with her mom each night to keep warm. Waking up in the morning, she turned to awake her mom only to find a cold still body next to her. Crying out and shaking her, she drew her brother into the room who also tried to arouse their mom and called for an ambulance. When they realized that their mother was gone, the tears flowed freely. That same night Alisha’s older brother lit the fire to burn their mother, with just a few relatives joining them.
The girls asked me if I wanted to come with them to Alisha’s house to give support and love, and to be honest, I didn’t. I didn’t know what to say or how to respond or what to do. I made up a thousand reasons not to go in my mind in the seconds that followed, but I knew that I was placed here for such a time as this, and in my weakness, God would pour on His love. So we walked to their relatives home where they were staying, and cautiously approached the house. I think the girls were as unsure as I was in how to show them love when such pain had fallen upon them. Alisha’s brother was outside, and the class 9 boys were huddled around him, hugging him, and just sitting there. It was a pretty beautiful scene.
Alisha didn’t want to come out, but she did when her aunt had her help serve us drinks. I felt horrible. Here we were to love on them, and they insisted on giving us cold sodas. The girls and I tried to refuse, but they just set the drinks at our feet and then walked back inside while we sat with her brother. And all I could do was pray that God brought comfort upon this home, that He would heal the wounds and draw these orphans to Himself.
After a few minutes, the girls and I left. That night, during devotionals, the kids and I talked about what had happened and how we could encourage Alisha and her brother. I think the kids understood better as most have felt the rejection of a father, though only a couple have lost their mothers as well. We talked a lot about death being final, and how important it is to use every opportunity to share Jesus with those around us, as none of us are guaranteed the next minute, much less tomorrow. We all wrote notes in a couple of cards that I had picked up, and I was impressed with how thoughtful the kids were in what they wrote. I guess in a society where death comes much sooner for most than most of the rest of the world, the kids grow up almost expecting pain like this.
Surprising to me, both Alisha and her brother returned to school the next day. I guess some sense of normalcy helps distract us from pain. While a hint of pain etched itself across her face, her smile returned occasionally when the girls dragged her into one of their games. She’s staying with her aunt for now, who has a daughter who’s also in class 5, but her aunt can’t afford to pay for her tuition, so the principal has given her brother and her full scholarships to finish high school. I can’t help but pray every time I see her sitting in my class, alternating between staring out the window and taking notes. She’s still one of my best students and I hope that through this she sees the light of Jesus and feels His peace wash over her. It reminds me of how many children are left as orphans each day throughout the world because of death or abandonment. And I pray that God would pour out His love on each and every one of them, healing the wounds and pains from this world.
As a teacher, I have many different personalities in my classroom. In class 5, the top 6 students are all girls who are well behaved and eager to learn and please me. One of these girls, whom I’ll call Alisha, is a small girl with a quiet personality and a shy smile. Left with her friends, though, you’ll hear her laughter dancing in the air as one of the other girls will catch her arm and pull her into whatever game they’re playing in the school yard. Her older brother is much like her- a good student, respectful, hardworking. They are well liked by both students and teachers alike.
On Sunday, I stayed home from school to give my leg one more day to heal and to pick up my X-rays from the hospital, and in the afternoon I walked over to the Cyber shop during our 2 hours of daylight power. On my way, I was surprised to meet up with the girls of class 9, including Rami and Ranjita. Their words all tumbled over one another, making it impossible for me to sort out why they weren’t in school and why they were walking as a pack down the street. Finally, I pieced together their reason, and I felt as though someone had knocked the air out of me. “Alisha’s mom died yesterday and we’re going to give her and her brother support!” I wasn’t sure I had understood correctly, so I asked them to repeat it one more time, with dread filling me as they repeated the same statement.
Astounded, I asked how it had happened. During the nights here it gets very cold, and while most nights the blankets are warm enough, some mornings you wake up shivering from the cold basking your exposed face. Alisha’s mom suffered from low blood pressure, and during the night the cold had caused her blood pressure to drop too low, and she never woke up in the morning. As their dad is who knows where (a common theme of the children here), Alisha slept with her mom each night to keep warm. Waking up in the morning, she turned to awake her mom only to find a cold still body next to her. Crying out and shaking her, she drew her brother into the room who also tried to arouse their mom and called for an ambulance. When they realized that their mother was gone, the tears flowed freely. That same night Alisha’s older brother lit the fire to burn their mother, with just a few relatives joining them.
The girls asked me if I wanted to come with them to Alisha’s house to give support and love, and to be honest, I didn’t. I didn’t know what to say or how to respond or what to do. I made up a thousand reasons not to go in my mind in the seconds that followed, but I knew that I was placed here for such a time as this, and in my weakness, God would pour on His love. So we walked to their relatives home where they were staying, and cautiously approached the house. I think the girls were as unsure as I was in how to show them love when such pain had fallen upon them. Alisha’s brother was outside, and the class 9 boys were huddled around him, hugging him, and just sitting there. It was a pretty beautiful scene.
Alisha didn’t want to come out, but she did when her aunt had her help serve us drinks. I felt horrible. Here we were to love on them, and they insisted on giving us cold sodas. The girls and I tried to refuse, but they just set the drinks at our feet and then walked back inside while we sat with her brother. And all I could do was pray that God brought comfort upon this home, that He would heal the wounds and draw these orphans to Himself.
After a few minutes, the girls and I left. That night, during devotionals, the kids and I talked about what had happened and how we could encourage Alisha and her brother. I think the kids understood better as most have felt the rejection of a father, though only a couple have lost their mothers as well. We talked a lot about death being final, and how important it is to use every opportunity to share Jesus with those around us, as none of us are guaranteed the next minute, much less tomorrow. We all wrote notes in a couple of cards that I had picked up, and I was impressed with how thoughtful the kids were in what they wrote. I guess in a society where death comes much sooner for most than most of the rest of the world, the kids grow up almost expecting pain like this.
Surprising to me, both Alisha and her brother returned to school the next day. I guess some sense of normalcy helps distract us from pain. While a hint of pain etched itself across her face, her smile returned occasionally when the girls dragged her into one of their games. She’s staying with her aunt for now, who has a daughter who’s also in class 5, but her aunt can’t afford to pay for her tuition, so the principal has given her brother and her full scholarships to finish high school. I can’t help but pray every time I see her sitting in my class, alternating between staring out the window and taking notes. She’s still one of my best students and I hope that through this she sees the light of Jesus and feels His peace wash over her. It reminds me of how many children are left as orphans each day throughout the world because of death or abandonment. And I pray that God would pour out His love on each and every one of them, healing the wounds and pains from this world.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Jack and Jill went up the hill, but Jill came down faster!
February 13, 2010
Once upon a time there was a fair maiden teaching at a school in Kathmandu, Nepal. One sunny day after several days of rain and fog, the staff of this school released their captive students into the wild of Kantipur, a community a mere 45 minutes from the school. On this remote mountainside overlooking Kathmandu valley and the Himalayas the students’ bags erupted with picnic supplies from home- rice, curry, dahl, chilis- all very unusual picnic supplies for this western maiden. The teachers were provided with an excellent lunch of churrah (beaten dry rice), potato and cauliflower curry, chicken, and incredibly spicy “pickle.” A feast fit for, well, teachers on a picnic I suppose!
After eating more than they probably should have, the students quickly headed into the forest-jungle to explore this world so foreign to students held captive in the city most of the year! Following their lead, the four young male instructors from the school invited the maiden to join them on a hike through the forest-jungle in search of a better view of the valley far below. Eager to explore, the maiden jumped at the chance to hike and set out with the others, admiring the beauty and greenness of the land which had just become drunk on the rain of two days.
Enthralled with the beauty of the trees and the birds dancing between them, the maiden gazed up, ignoring the brown of the beaten path beneath her feet. Suddenly, the slick mud beneath her feet decided to move to a new home further down the mountain. With a startled cry, the maiden began to tumble down the mountain, becoming disoriented and frantic. After a few split seconds that felt like an eternity, she stopped abruptly with the help of a sudden connection of her head and knee to two large rocks. After the second of shock passed, a frantic hysteria set in, and the tears streamed down her face, making clean paths through her dirt covered face.
Suddenly, four sets of hands were trying to pull her up, this way and that, and in pain, she pulled back and begged them to let her sit for a few moments before moving, as there was throbbing pain in her elbow, knee, head and hip. She quickly composed herself, reassured that everything still moved and was still attached. The four eager yet shocked knights helped her up the mountain, back to the picnic spot where they attended to her wounds. Feeling very ashamed for ending their adventure early, she begged them to go on without her, but to no avail.
So, two set out to attain pain medicine from a small shop down the mountain a little ways while the others made sure everything did indeed move on its own and asked repeatedly to make sure she didn’t need to go to the hospital. In retrospect, she should have gone, but she was a very stubborn maiden and the only people who could get her to the hospital are her parents and her friend Katie. Besides, while there was some swelling in her knee and arm, they were still working, so, she figured she’d save the money. After about an hour’s worth of good conversation the teachers rounded up their freed children to return them to the captivity of the school.
Returning home that night, the maiden’s Uncle asked if she needed to go to the hospital, but, still stubborn (especially so because there were guests at the home), the maiden insisted that she was ok. However, the next night, the pain had increased substantially, mainly because the bruises had started to really develop and the muscles had become tight in the cool night air. As she finally explained all her injuries to Uncle including two very sore lumps on her head, he insisted that they go to the hospital the next morning to do X-rays.
Now, the maiden wasn’t sure what to expect at the hospital, as she was a little ethnocentric and couldn’t imagine that this hospital would compare to the western hospitals she was accustomed to. And she was right, it didn’t compare, at least in the building part of it. However, the emergency doctor she saw was the most peaceful, careful doctor she’d ever met, and he slowly but confidently examined her injuries one by one. After ensuring there was no brain trauma (no memory loss, no dizzieness, no pain in her brain, etc) and that it was all superficial (her skull only pained when it was touched or when she ate) he moved on to her arm and knee. Both were swollen and bruised, and he was concerned when he gently massaged her kneecap and felt something moving. To make sure it wasn’t anything serious, he ordered X-rays of both her arm and knee, stating that unless the pain in her head increased, there wasn’t anything that could be done for that anyway.
Now, for as gentle the emergency room doctor was, the X-ray technition was the polar opposite, and the maiden was sure that if her arm and knee weren’t broken before, they would be when he finished with her. As she spoke limited Nepali and he spoke limited English, the only thing he could do was move her limbs as he needed them to be. Which in turn caused some pain, to say the least! But, finally, the X-rays were finished, and the doctor looked at them, and assured the maiden that there was no damage that he could see from them. He referred her to visit a specialist the next day to make sure that he wasn’t missing anything on the X-rays. Other than that, he told her to “take rest and drink lots of water” in order to speed the healing process.
Not sure what to expect for the cost, the maiden was amazed to find out that the entire visit (X-rays, doctor’s fees, etc.) cost a mere 850 Rupees. About $11. As someone who was well acquainted with the emergency room her sophomore year of college (she made three visits in one semester, all for very valid reasons at the insistence of her friend Katie), this was an incredibly low fee. One she was very thankful for. And the moral of this story is that if you get hurt, fly to Nepal for care because the airfare may be cheaper than your medical bills in the US. But if you need X-rays, either learn Nepali before going in to see the technician or don’t get X-rays. Your choice. Or, you could not be a klutz and fall off a mountain. That would solve a lot of problems actually. But as the knights said, this is one picnic that the maiden will never forget!
Once upon a time there was a fair maiden teaching at a school in Kathmandu, Nepal. One sunny day after several days of rain and fog, the staff of this school released their captive students into the wild of Kantipur, a community a mere 45 minutes from the school. On this remote mountainside overlooking Kathmandu valley and the Himalayas the students’ bags erupted with picnic supplies from home- rice, curry, dahl, chilis- all very unusual picnic supplies for this western maiden. The teachers were provided with an excellent lunch of churrah (beaten dry rice), potato and cauliflower curry, chicken, and incredibly spicy “pickle.” A feast fit for, well, teachers on a picnic I suppose!
After eating more than they probably should have, the students quickly headed into the forest-jungle to explore this world so foreign to students held captive in the city most of the year! Following their lead, the four young male instructors from the school invited the maiden to join them on a hike through the forest-jungle in search of a better view of the valley far below. Eager to explore, the maiden jumped at the chance to hike and set out with the others, admiring the beauty and greenness of the land which had just become drunk on the rain of two days.
Enthralled with the beauty of the trees and the birds dancing between them, the maiden gazed up, ignoring the brown of the beaten path beneath her feet. Suddenly, the slick mud beneath her feet decided to move to a new home further down the mountain. With a startled cry, the maiden began to tumble down the mountain, becoming disoriented and frantic. After a few split seconds that felt like an eternity, she stopped abruptly with the help of a sudden connection of her head and knee to two large rocks. After the second of shock passed, a frantic hysteria set in, and the tears streamed down her face, making clean paths through her dirt covered face.
Suddenly, four sets of hands were trying to pull her up, this way and that, and in pain, she pulled back and begged them to let her sit for a few moments before moving, as there was throbbing pain in her elbow, knee, head and hip. She quickly composed herself, reassured that everything still moved and was still attached. The four eager yet shocked knights helped her up the mountain, back to the picnic spot where they attended to her wounds. Feeling very ashamed for ending their adventure early, she begged them to go on without her, but to no avail.
So, two set out to attain pain medicine from a small shop down the mountain a little ways while the others made sure everything did indeed move on its own and asked repeatedly to make sure she didn’t need to go to the hospital. In retrospect, she should have gone, but she was a very stubborn maiden and the only people who could get her to the hospital are her parents and her friend Katie. Besides, while there was some swelling in her knee and arm, they were still working, so, she figured she’d save the money. After about an hour’s worth of good conversation the teachers rounded up their freed children to return them to the captivity of the school.
Returning home that night, the maiden’s Uncle asked if she needed to go to the hospital, but, still stubborn (especially so because there were guests at the home), the maiden insisted that she was ok. However, the next night, the pain had increased substantially, mainly because the bruises had started to really develop and the muscles had become tight in the cool night air. As she finally explained all her injuries to Uncle including two very sore lumps on her head, he insisted that they go to the hospital the next morning to do X-rays.
Now, the maiden wasn’t sure what to expect at the hospital, as she was a little ethnocentric and couldn’t imagine that this hospital would compare to the western hospitals she was accustomed to. And she was right, it didn’t compare, at least in the building part of it. However, the emergency doctor she saw was the most peaceful, careful doctor she’d ever met, and he slowly but confidently examined her injuries one by one. After ensuring there was no brain trauma (no memory loss, no dizzieness, no pain in her brain, etc) and that it was all superficial (her skull only pained when it was touched or when she ate) he moved on to her arm and knee. Both were swollen and bruised, and he was concerned when he gently massaged her kneecap and felt something moving. To make sure it wasn’t anything serious, he ordered X-rays of both her arm and knee, stating that unless the pain in her head increased, there wasn’t anything that could be done for that anyway.
Now, for as gentle the emergency room doctor was, the X-ray technition was the polar opposite, and the maiden was sure that if her arm and knee weren’t broken before, they would be when he finished with her. As she spoke limited Nepali and he spoke limited English, the only thing he could do was move her limbs as he needed them to be. Which in turn caused some pain, to say the least! But, finally, the X-rays were finished, and the doctor looked at them, and assured the maiden that there was no damage that he could see from them. He referred her to visit a specialist the next day to make sure that he wasn’t missing anything on the X-rays. Other than that, he told her to “take rest and drink lots of water” in order to speed the healing process.
Not sure what to expect for the cost, the maiden was amazed to find out that the entire visit (X-rays, doctor’s fees, etc.) cost a mere 850 Rupees. About $11. As someone who was well acquainted with the emergency room her sophomore year of college (she made three visits in one semester, all for very valid reasons at the insistence of her friend Katie), this was an incredibly low fee. One she was very thankful for. And the moral of this story is that if you get hurt, fly to Nepal for care because the airfare may be cheaper than your medical bills in the US. But if you need X-rays, either learn Nepali before going in to see the technician or don’t get X-rays. Your choice. Or, you could not be a klutz and fall off a mountain. That would solve a lot of problems actually. But as the knights said, this is one picnic that the maiden will never forget!
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
That's the Teacher in Me!
February 6, 2010
As a teacher in Nepal, I’ve been reprimanded a number of times for not beating my students. As a teacher who will return to America and teach next year, I can’t even imagine beating my students! So, I’ve quickly become a favorite teacher and I’m supposedly the “nicest” of the higher level students, all on the basis that I don’t beat them! Now, we’re not just talking about a beating when you misbehave, but even if you don’t know the answer or are confused by the teacher’s teaching (scary, right?!). So, when I walk into the classroom to teach, all my students breathe a sigh of relief and relax in their desks, because while I expect them to learn, I’m not going to beat them if they don’t instantly understand the material!
Now before you go thinking that I’m a push-over and the kids probably walk all over me, you should know that I’m also known as the strictest teacher in our whole school, the city, and quite possibly all of Nepal! Sound like a contradiction? Yeah, I thought so too the first time they told me that! I managed to earn that name the first 4 days I proctored exams: one day in each classroom!
Here in Nepal, all the students take all the subject exams in a span of 3 days. All the upper level students are mixed into different classrooms to “prevent” cheating (I use the word prevent very loosely, as a collaborative society is clearly rising up in Nepal!). For term exams we have 8 days of testing, one for each subject. For mid terms, though, we have only 3 days of testing, with multiple tests on the same day. Well, I was thoroughly trained by Conroe High School (about 8000 times in the 1.5 years I taught there!) how to actively monitor students while they are testing to ensure that they’re not cheating.
Here we only have one aisle in the room, and there are 2-3 students crammed into the benches vaguely reminding me of pictures of the covered-wagon days in America! And the aisle we do have is about as big as a 10 year old girl, so I don’t do a whole lot of walking back and forth through the room, but I do stand for most of the exam, making sure I can see everyone. Turns out, most of the other teachers sit for the exam. In addition, I don’t allow talking (well, they’re not supposed to talk, but, I guess the other teachers don’t fight the urgent whispering breaking the silence filled with car horns and shouting in the streets!). I can’t handle talking during exams, so, I threatened to cut marks the first day I proctored an exam if the students didn’t stop talking. They didn’t stop talking so I did cut marks (rule number 1 in teaching-never make an empty threat!), and quickly everyone in the school heard all the juicy details of how MY red pen made a nasty little minus five on the top of two students exams. And they got quiet. Real fast.
So, now that I’ve established myself as the strictest teacher, I walk into the classrooms on testing days to a chorus of groans, that make me laugh and quite proud. I may not beat the students, but they sure are quiet when I’m in the room! That said, now that I’ve got a reputation that precedes me, I can relax during the exams and watch the kids. I’ve got a few short stories of the past 3 days of exams that made me really laugh inside!
Picture this: for exams, there are class 6-9 students packed into the same classroom, with ages ranging from 9-10 all the way up to 16-17 depending on when the kids started school. In the front of one classroom, there were three boys packed into a bench, which was a sight in itself. Now, the funny part was that the two outer boys were class 8 and 9 students, who were big boys, especially here in Nepal! The middle one was one of my class 6 boys who might be the smallest of all my students, class 5 included. Basically, he looked like a little flea next to a water buffalo and an elephant. And the whole exam he was battling for his small little pocket of air next to two vortexes that continuously demanded more space! I mean, his feet don’t even reach the ground when he’s sitting on the bench! So he brought his little clipboard and worked through his exams on his lap, giving them the space their size and age demanded!
Then, there were those kids who know absolutely nothing (honestly, I sometimes wonder if I gently blew into one ear would it come flowing right out the other side?!) about their classes and they get their exam and just sit and stare at it. I mean, they bore holes into it with their eyes. As if maybe, just maybe, after paying absolutely no attention to their classes for the last 4 weeks, the paper will magically produce answers for them. Or they stared out the window with their mouth half open, and I was just waiting for a little spittle to start trickling down their vacant faces! Or, my personal favorite, they start SINGING the questions to themselves in a little bird voice until my eyes bore through the tops of their heads and they look up to my laser eyes beneath raised eyebrows and immediately their jaw snaps shut with the speed of a snapping turtle! And that red pen just twirls in my fingers...
There were a number of other humorous incidents (pencils flying across the room in a hurried exchange of lead for ink and pencil boxes crashing to the floor to name just two!), but you get the idea. I’ve started entering the classrooms, laughing at the groans, and reminding them that I’m the strictest teacher once the exam starts, but the nicest one before, so they better get all their talking/shouting/gassing out before the exam starts because after that bell rings, I won’t allow any of it! They laugh at that and take me up on my offer and talk louder than all the other classrooms, but as none of the exams have begun yet, I don’t care one little iota. However, the other teachers frown slightly (I’m sure they thought I had no control during the exam time as well, but the students quickly set them straight as the teachers have asked me about my proctoring “style!”) but in the end they let my students rant and rave, knowing that at the sound of the bell you could hear a pin drop (and usually do hear a pen drop!) in the room! And at the end of the day, I go home satisfied knowing that I’ve earned the title of the nicest yet strictest teacher in the country! Sometimes, the bamboo rod just isn’t as powerful as a red pen :).
As a teacher in Nepal, I’ve been reprimanded a number of times for not beating my students. As a teacher who will return to America and teach next year, I can’t even imagine beating my students! So, I’ve quickly become a favorite teacher and I’m supposedly the “nicest” of the higher level students, all on the basis that I don’t beat them! Now, we’re not just talking about a beating when you misbehave, but even if you don’t know the answer or are confused by the teacher’s teaching (scary, right?!). So, when I walk into the classroom to teach, all my students breathe a sigh of relief and relax in their desks, because while I expect them to learn, I’m not going to beat them if they don’t instantly understand the material!
Now before you go thinking that I’m a push-over and the kids probably walk all over me, you should know that I’m also known as the strictest teacher in our whole school, the city, and quite possibly all of Nepal! Sound like a contradiction? Yeah, I thought so too the first time they told me that! I managed to earn that name the first 4 days I proctored exams: one day in each classroom!
Here in Nepal, all the students take all the subject exams in a span of 3 days. All the upper level students are mixed into different classrooms to “prevent” cheating (I use the word prevent very loosely, as a collaborative society is clearly rising up in Nepal!). For term exams we have 8 days of testing, one for each subject. For mid terms, though, we have only 3 days of testing, with multiple tests on the same day. Well, I was thoroughly trained by Conroe High School (about 8000 times in the 1.5 years I taught there!) how to actively monitor students while they are testing to ensure that they’re not cheating.
Here we only have one aisle in the room, and there are 2-3 students crammed into the benches vaguely reminding me of pictures of the covered-wagon days in America! And the aisle we do have is about as big as a 10 year old girl, so I don’t do a whole lot of walking back and forth through the room, but I do stand for most of the exam, making sure I can see everyone. Turns out, most of the other teachers sit for the exam. In addition, I don’t allow talking (well, they’re not supposed to talk, but, I guess the other teachers don’t fight the urgent whispering breaking the silence filled with car horns and shouting in the streets!). I can’t handle talking during exams, so, I threatened to cut marks the first day I proctored an exam if the students didn’t stop talking. They didn’t stop talking so I did cut marks (rule number 1 in teaching-never make an empty threat!), and quickly everyone in the school heard all the juicy details of how MY red pen made a nasty little minus five on the top of two students exams. And they got quiet. Real fast.
So, now that I’ve established myself as the strictest teacher, I walk into the classrooms on testing days to a chorus of groans, that make me laugh and quite proud. I may not beat the students, but they sure are quiet when I’m in the room! That said, now that I’ve got a reputation that precedes me, I can relax during the exams and watch the kids. I’ve got a few short stories of the past 3 days of exams that made me really laugh inside!
Picture this: for exams, there are class 6-9 students packed into the same classroom, with ages ranging from 9-10 all the way up to 16-17 depending on when the kids started school. In the front of one classroom, there were three boys packed into a bench, which was a sight in itself. Now, the funny part was that the two outer boys were class 8 and 9 students, who were big boys, especially here in Nepal! The middle one was one of my class 6 boys who might be the smallest of all my students, class 5 included. Basically, he looked like a little flea next to a water buffalo and an elephant. And the whole exam he was battling for his small little pocket of air next to two vortexes that continuously demanded more space! I mean, his feet don’t even reach the ground when he’s sitting on the bench! So he brought his little clipboard and worked through his exams on his lap, giving them the space their size and age demanded!
Then, there were those kids who know absolutely nothing (honestly, I sometimes wonder if I gently blew into one ear would it come flowing right out the other side?!) about their classes and they get their exam and just sit and stare at it. I mean, they bore holes into it with their eyes. As if maybe, just maybe, after paying absolutely no attention to their classes for the last 4 weeks, the paper will magically produce answers for them. Or they stared out the window with their mouth half open, and I was just waiting for a little spittle to start trickling down their vacant faces! Or, my personal favorite, they start SINGING the questions to themselves in a little bird voice until my eyes bore through the tops of their heads and they look up to my laser eyes beneath raised eyebrows and immediately their jaw snaps shut with the speed of a snapping turtle! And that red pen just twirls in my fingers...
There were a number of other humorous incidents (pencils flying across the room in a hurried exchange of lead for ink and pencil boxes crashing to the floor to name just two!), but you get the idea. I’ve started entering the classrooms, laughing at the groans, and reminding them that I’m the strictest teacher once the exam starts, but the nicest one before, so they better get all their talking/shouting/gassing out before the exam starts because after that bell rings, I won’t allow any of it! They laugh at that and take me up on my offer and talk louder than all the other classrooms, but as none of the exams have begun yet, I don’t care one little iota. However, the other teachers frown slightly (I’m sure they thought I had no control during the exam time as well, but the students quickly set them straight as the teachers have asked me about my proctoring “style!”) but in the end they let my students rant and rave, knowing that at the sound of the bell you could hear a pin drop (and usually do hear a pen drop!) in the room! And at the end of the day, I go home satisfied knowing that I’ve earned the title of the nicest yet strictest teacher in the country! Sometimes, the bamboo rod just isn’t as powerful as a red pen :).
Monday, February 1, 2010
Smiling at Kids...
January 29, 2010
Sometimes the kids’ just make me smile. I mean, kids do funny and stupid things everyday that make you smile and laugh for a moment, but sometimes they’ll say something, and a smile will come from your heart and stay there for weeks. So, here are three tales that made my heart smile!
Tale #1:
One sunny afternoon, Rami, Manisha and I headed out to a children’s expo in the center of Kathmandu. We really didn’t know what to expect, but the principal had given me tickets, so we went! It turns out this expo was in a big mall on the fourth floor. We arrived, went through the Expo, and basically, it was just a lot of vendors trying to sell us their items at “wholesale price! guaranteed!” Well, we made it almost all the way through without spending a dime, when I saw one selling pencils; good pencils. Ones that won’t break every time you touch them! So, I caved in and spend $10 on pencils. Now that might sound like a lot, but I did get 200 pencils, 20 erasers, and 20 sharpeners for that amount. And in a home of 16 kids (counting Joshua and Benjamin), they’ll go fast! Believe me!
Ok, that really had nothing to do with my story, but at least now you know about the children’s expo! So, on our way down the stairs, we saw this woman sweeping the stairs. Since she was in uniform, I’m assuming that’s her job. When Manisha saw her sweeping the steps, she stopped, paused, and then looked the lady in the eye and said “Thank you for serving us!” Flabbergasted, the lady looked at her in surprise, and then a smile broke across her face! And across my face :). You see, over the past 5 months, the kids and I have been learning about being thankful and serving each other. And right there, Manisha showed me that she understood at a level that brought her to thank even a complete stranger! After leaving the mall, I asked her if she knew the lady, and she said that she didn’t. Then, she said, “But she was making things nicer for me, so I figured I should thank her!” A lesson we could all learn every single day!
Tale #2:
I didn’t find out about this until a few days after it happened, so I’m passing on something that was passed on to me from one of the kids. But, I’m pretty sure it’s reputable! So, we were in Gorkha, and the women of the church stayed pretty constantly busy cooking, everyday, all day. The food was excellent, and we needed as much of it as we could get!
Well, one morning, after breakfast, when Asha was taking her plate back to the field to be washed, she stopped and thanked the women for cooking. Again, with confusion, they looked back at her and said, “It’s our job to cook for you!” And Asha told them, “I know, but thank you for cooking for us!” To which they just smiled in happy confusion. Obviously, while Nepali’s are thankful people, they don’t often tell each other so, and this gentle change in the kids is causing some waves :).
Tale #3:
This one turns away from gratitude and moves into understanding God’s Word and the truth in it. To set the stage, one night during devotionals, one of the kids pulled out a Book of Mormon thinking it is another Bible. Well, confused as to where it came from and concerned about the kids’ possession of it, I took it, and told them that we would talk later about why it wasn’t ok (after I could organize the reasons into things that were understandable for 7-16 year olds!). I talked to Uncle about it, and it turns out it was from years before when he was studying other religions in seminary and the kids weren’t even supposed to have it. We’re not sure how they got it!
So, the next night, for devotionals we were on Galatians 1:6-10, where Paul addresses false teachers who preach any Gospel besides that of Jesus Christ. Well, Rami, who is ever quick to pick up on what God’s saying in Scripture questioned, “Sister, is this why you didn’t like that book last night and took it? Does it preach another Gospel?” And I was like, wow! She gets it! So, I broke into a smile and said, “Yes, that’s exactly why I don’t like that book! God’s given us all we need in the Bible. To preach another gospel is not Christianity!” Her faith really inspired me. God’s taught her to understand His Word and to apply it to any situation! Something that I hope God continues to teach me as well! So, while I spend most of my time teaching the kids, there are those moments when I can just sit back, smile, and learn from them!
Sometimes the kids’ just make me smile. I mean, kids do funny and stupid things everyday that make you smile and laugh for a moment, but sometimes they’ll say something, and a smile will come from your heart and stay there for weeks. So, here are three tales that made my heart smile!
Tale #1:
One sunny afternoon, Rami, Manisha and I headed out to a children’s expo in the center of Kathmandu. We really didn’t know what to expect, but the principal had given me tickets, so we went! It turns out this expo was in a big mall on the fourth floor. We arrived, went through the Expo, and basically, it was just a lot of vendors trying to sell us their items at “wholesale price! guaranteed!” Well, we made it almost all the way through without spending a dime, when I saw one selling pencils; good pencils. Ones that won’t break every time you touch them! So, I caved in and spend $10 on pencils. Now that might sound like a lot, but I did get 200 pencils, 20 erasers, and 20 sharpeners for that amount. And in a home of 16 kids (counting Joshua and Benjamin), they’ll go fast! Believe me!
Ok, that really had nothing to do with my story, but at least now you know about the children’s expo! So, on our way down the stairs, we saw this woman sweeping the stairs. Since she was in uniform, I’m assuming that’s her job. When Manisha saw her sweeping the steps, she stopped, paused, and then looked the lady in the eye and said “Thank you for serving us!” Flabbergasted, the lady looked at her in surprise, and then a smile broke across her face! And across my face :). You see, over the past 5 months, the kids and I have been learning about being thankful and serving each other. And right there, Manisha showed me that she understood at a level that brought her to thank even a complete stranger! After leaving the mall, I asked her if she knew the lady, and she said that she didn’t. Then, she said, “But she was making things nicer for me, so I figured I should thank her!” A lesson we could all learn every single day!
Tale #2:
I didn’t find out about this until a few days after it happened, so I’m passing on something that was passed on to me from one of the kids. But, I’m pretty sure it’s reputable! So, we were in Gorkha, and the women of the church stayed pretty constantly busy cooking, everyday, all day. The food was excellent, and we needed as much of it as we could get!
Well, one morning, after breakfast, when Asha was taking her plate back to the field to be washed, she stopped and thanked the women for cooking. Again, with confusion, they looked back at her and said, “It’s our job to cook for you!” And Asha told them, “I know, but thank you for cooking for us!” To which they just smiled in happy confusion. Obviously, while Nepali’s are thankful people, they don’t often tell each other so, and this gentle change in the kids is causing some waves :).
Tale #3:
This one turns away from gratitude and moves into understanding God’s Word and the truth in it. To set the stage, one night during devotionals, one of the kids pulled out a Book of Mormon thinking it is another Bible. Well, confused as to where it came from and concerned about the kids’ possession of it, I took it, and told them that we would talk later about why it wasn’t ok (after I could organize the reasons into things that were understandable for 7-16 year olds!). I talked to Uncle about it, and it turns out it was from years before when he was studying other religions in seminary and the kids weren’t even supposed to have it. We’re not sure how they got it!
So, the next night, for devotionals we were on Galatians 1:6-10, where Paul addresses false teachers who preach any Gospel besides that of Jesus Christ. Well, Rami, who is ever quick to pick up on what God’s saying in Scripture questioned, “Sister, is this why you didn’t like that book last night and took it? Does it preach another Gospel?” And I was like, wow! She gets it! So, I broke into a smile and said, “Yes, that’s exactly why I don’t like that book! God’s given us all we need in the Bible. To preach another gospel is not Christianity!” Her faith really inspired me. God’s taught her to understand His Word and to apply it to any situation! Something that I hope God continues to teach me as well! So, while I spend most of my time teaching the kids, there are those moments when I can just sit back, smile, and learn from them!
Church Dedication Service
January 21, 2010
The Church Dedication Service. Well, as is typical of Nepali church services, the dedication service went for far longer than any other dedication service I’ve ever been to! Everyone was up and going around 8, when we started the morning prayer and worship time. Well, pray and worship we did, until around 11, when the actual service started! The service was supposed to be around 2 hours I think, but sometimes when you get a group of pastors together, they each gravitate toward giving a sermon, and almost 4 hours later, we finally cut the service off! Honestly, there’s not much to write as it was mostly preaching, and I didn’t understand a word of it, so I was a little bored. But the excitement started for me after the service!
We had a big feast of goat and pickle and tons of rice and curry after the service (a great way to entice the locals to come!), and there were several Hindus from the community who came and visited. I had met a girl named Laxmi the day before at our nighttime worship service, but she and her family are Hindus. They had come because someone had visited them that day and had told them they should come that night for the service. They did, and Laxmi immediately attached herself to me. I was probably the first white girl she’d ever seen!
She was around 16 probably, with several younger brothers and sisters in tow! Well, we ate together after the dedication service, and in broken Nepali/English we talked for a couple of hours with her mom, another lady, and several other teenage girls. We talked about school and life and how things are different in America and Nepal. She was pretty upset that I was leaving the next day, so I decided to go out on a limb and give her a Bible. I wrote “To: Laxmi, Love: Anneliese” inside of it. Her eyes lit up, but a quick reprimand from her mother forced her to pass it on to one of the other girls nearby. I later found out that her mother would not allow her to keep a Bible in the house, so, her friend was to take it.
Knowing that she LOVED the songs we sing at church though, I grabbed Monoj and took his small pocket song-book (most Nepali Christians have their own hymnals that are pocket-sized) and wrote the same thing inside the cover, assuring Monoj that upon returning to Kathmandu, I would buy him another one, as that was his “special one”. I gave this to her, and her mom approved, Praise God! Well, I’ve always known that worship is powerful, but now I pray that it would be sharper than a double-edged sword as she reads these Gospel-proclaiming lyrics! I pray that God would continue to blind her mother to the reality that most of these songs have as much Scripture in them as a chapter of the Bible, at least until God opens Laxmi to himself! And as worship tells the story of our Jesus, I pray that Laxmi would see the truth as she reads and sings these songs to herself! One day Jesus will grab ahold of her, and He’ll use whatever it takes to get to her!
The Church Dedication Service. Well, as is typical of Nepali church services, the dedication service went for far longer than any other dedication service I’ve ever been to! Everyone was up and going around 8, when we started the morning prayer and worship time. Well, pray and worship we did, until around 11, when the actual service started! The service was supposed to be around 2 hours I think, but sometimes when you get a group of pastors together, they each gravitate toward giving a sermon, and almost 4 hours later, we finally cut the service off! Honestly, there’s not much to write as it was mostly preaching, and I didn’t understand a word of it, so I was a little bored. But the excitement started for me after the service!
We had a big feast of goat and pickle and tons of rice and curry after the service (a great way to entice the locals to come!), and there were several Hindus from the community who came and visited. I had met a girl named Laxmi the day before at our nighttime worship service, but she and her family are Hindus. They had come because someone had visited them that day and had told them they should come that night for the service. They did, and Laxmi immediately attached herself to me. I was probably the first white girl she’d ever seen!
She was around 16 probably, with several younger brothers and sisters in tow! Well, we ate together after the dedication service, and in broken Nepali/English we talked for a couple of hours with her mom, another lady, and several other teenage girls. We talked about school and life and how things are different in America and Nepal. She was pretty upset that I was leaving the next day, so I decided to go out on a limb and give her a Bible. I wrote “To: Laxmi, Love: Anneliese” inside of it. Her eyes lit up, but a quick reprimand from her mother forced her to pass it on to one of the other girls nearby. I later found out that her mother would not allow her to keep a Bible in the house, so, her friend was to take it.
Knowing that she LOVED the songs we sing at church though, I grabbed Monoj and took his small pocket song-book (most Nepali Christians have their own hymnals that are pocket-sized) and wrote the same thing inside the cover, assuring Monoj that upon returning to Kathmandu, I would buy him another one, as that was his “special one”. I gave this to her, and her mom approved, Praise God! Well, I’ve always known that worship is powerful, but now I pray that it would be sharper than a double-edged sword as she reads these Gospel-proclaiming lyrics! I pray that God would continue to blind her mother to the reality that most of these songs have as much Scripture in them as a chapter of the Bible, at least until God opens Laxmi to himself! And as worship tells the story of our Jesus, I pray that Laxmi would see the truth as she reads and sings these songs to herself! One day Jesus will grab ahold of her, and He’ll use whatever it takes to get to her!
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