If I had been able to pull off my original plan of surprising Tim and Christine at their wedding on Friday night, I'd be at the airport right now about to fly to the US.
My dear friends, I am sorry I cannot be there. Imagine my joy at seeing this finally happen, and dance a little extra for me.
Tonight geography hurts so bad.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Career Class Chaos
Though I live on a "little white island"- an international school that serves primarily American missionaries- I do know a little about Kenyan culture. I know that when you extend an invitation to someone, it may also include their family, their friends, and anyone they meet on the way to see you. I know that time measured on watches has very little to do with time in reality, and I know that food, especially staples like flour or fruit, is a more normal hostess gift than, say, flowers or chocolate.
But usually all that knowledge isn't really applicable to my school day. I teach in an American-style school. Bells ring on precise schedules. I expect to have a certain number of people in each class. If presents come, they are at predictable times like Christmas, my birthday, or the end of the school year. And I've gotten pretty good at teaching with those constraints.
And then there was today. See, I'm teaching a class called "Careers," which I basically get to make up as I go along. Here at the end of the semester, we're having guest speakers who do jobs that my students are interested in pursuing. And since I don't know many people in Nairobi who aren't teachers or missionaries, I give extra credit to my students for setting up guest speakers. They have to tell me the name of the person coming, and their career has to be something more than 1 person in the class is interested in doing. And because 8th graders bore easily and not all people are great presenters, I try to book 2 or 3 speakers per class period, ask each to talk for only 10 minutes, and give the kids extra credit for asking intelligent questions. Sounds good, you say. And it is if it works.
This morning during my planning period that's before lunch that's before Careers, a well dressed Kenyan woman carrying a big bag comes into my room, introduces herself, and says she's ready to guest speak: "Will the children be coming back in here?" I only blink a couple of times before responding, "Oh, Mrs. M, I'm so happy you've come! Yes, please, set up, feel free. Yes, the students will be coming in here, but not for another hour..." As I clear a space for her to set up, I glance and my lesson plan book and see that her daughter told me she was coming on Thursday, not today, and I already have 3 other guest speakers arranged for this period, and it's a stretch to fit 3 people into a 45-minute class anyway! I realize that it's good PR to have guest speakers, but I also realize it's very bad PR if they feel unappreciated or like it's not a good use of their time. What am I going to do?! It would be bad to tell her we don't want her. And it wouldn't be polite to say, "Get your days straight, lady! Come back on Thursday!" On the other hand, it wouldn't be right to cut into the other speakers' time; they showed up when they were supposed to. About this time I become puzzled by something else- her daughter told me she was going to talk about her event decorating business. And on my front table she's laying out bags of chemical fertilizer and taping a map of East Africa onto my whiteboard.
And you know that when I'm flustered and in the midst of a potentially amusing situation, I have to tell someone. So I snuck up to my principal's office and told her, "You know how I have trouble fitting in all my guest speakers? Well, one just showed up an hour early, on the wrong day, and she's laying out bags of chemical fertilizer. I don't quite know what to do!" She laughed, said she'd pray that someone else would cancel, and told me to get back down there.
In the meantime, this woman's sister has shown up. Bonus. She explains that she owns her own wedding planning business. Imagine that. And she's setting up pictures and labeling them carefully. At the same time, her sister is talking with someone on the cell phone and commenting to me, "Now where is Daddy..." Daddy?!! There are more people coming? What are they all planning to do? And what about my other 3 originally scheduled guest speakers- the eye doctor, the UN worker, and the microfinance director? How will they fit into this picture? And how do I manage to not offend anyone and get the maximum benefit for my students and not look like a total idiot?
Lunchtime comes, and I grab a bite in the teacher's room. On the way, the UN worker's child says, "My mom forgot- can she come on Thursday instead?" "YES," I answer. I eat, the other teachers snicker at my conundrum, but when I walk past my principal on the way back to my classroom, she comments, "Now there are 4 in there..." Turns out that not only Daddy showed up, but also another sister. I'm too overwhelmed to ask what she does. And then my other two guest speakers trickle in. So I have 6 adults, all of whom are doing favors for students by coming, and I have exactly 45 minutes to fit them all in, step on no toes, and hope my students learn something in the process!
As it turned out, things worked out OK. The last sister had only come to observe the family event. The first sister was introducing her father; introductions are very important in Kenya and can't be trusted to just anyone. Plus it would be rude for the father to talk about all the wonderful things he had done- better that his daughter do it. The second sister's sole purpose was to turn over the visual aids at the proper time. It turns out their family owns a fertilizer company that exports throughout East Africa, and their dad had built the business from scratch. So the bags of chemicals served a purpose. And when the father gave his inspirational words to the students, it was good his presentation was short- he was hard to understand. Looks of confusion filled the classroom when he said, "I most admire the poor voters because they are always training and striving to climb higher and higher. Even you, you must be like the poor voters." His daughter sensed the confusion, jumped in and said, "poor voters- you know, like in track." Oh, POLE VAULTERS! Always trying to climb higher and higher! Got it!
The other two speakers did get their 10 minutes, and students even got in some questions before the bell rang. But my favorite part of the period was the end, when the family presented me with a basket of vegetables, done up carefully with gauze and a giant yellow bow. What an honoring gift. Vegetables. =)
Overall, I was pleased with how Kenya seeped into my American classroom today. My students handled it well, as did the other speakers, and I got veggies for my stew tonight. Yum.
But usually all that knowledge isn't really applicable to my school day. I teach in an American-style school. Bells ring on precise schedules. I expect to have a certain number of people in each class. If presents come, they are at predictable times like Christmas, my birthday, or the end of the school year. And I've gotten pretty good at teaching with those constraints.
And then there was today. See, I'm teaching a class called "Careers," which I basically get to make up as I go along. Here at the end of the semester, we're having guest speakers who do jobs that my students are interested in pursuing. And since I don't know many people in Nairobi who aren't teachers or missionaries, I give extra credit to my students for setting up guest speakers. They have to tell me the name of the person coming, and their career has to be something more than 1 person in the class is interested in doing. And because 8th graders bore easily and not all people are great presenters, I try to book 2 or 3 speakers per class period, ask each to talk for only 10 minutes, and give the kids extra credit for asking intelligent questions. Sounds good, you say. And it is if it works.
This morning during my planning period that's before lunch that's before Careers, a well dressed Kenyan woman carrying a big bag comes into my room, introduces herself, and says she's ready to guest speak: "Will the children be coming back in here?" I only blink a couple of times before responding, "Oh, Mrs. M, I'm so happy you've come! Yes, please, set up, feel free. Yes, the students will be coming in here, but not for another hour..." As I clear a space for her to set up, I glance and my lesson plan book and see that her daughter told me she was coming on Thursday, not today, and I already have 3 other guest speakers arranged for this period, and it's a stretch to fit 3 people into a 45-minute class anyway! I realize that it's good PR to have guest speakers, but I also realize it's very bad PR if they feel unappreciated or like it's not a good use of their time. What am I going to do?! It would be bad to tell her we don't want her. And it wouldn't be polite to say, "Get your days straight, lady! Come back on Thursday!" On the other hand, it wouldn't be right to cut into the other speakers' time; they showed up when they were supposed to. About this time I become puzzled by something else- her daughter told me she was going to talk about her event decorating business. And on my front table she's laying out bags of chemical fertilizer and taping a map of East Africa onto my whiteboard.
And you know that when I'm flustered and in the midst of a potentially amusing situation, I have to tell someone. So I snuck up to my principal's office and told her, "You know how I have trouble fitting in all my guest speakers? Well, one just showed up an hour early, on the wrong day, and she's laying out bags of chemical fertilizer. I don't quite know what to do!" She laughed, said she'd pray that someone else would cancel, and told me to get back down there.
In the meantime, this woman's sister has shown up. Bonus. She explains that she owns her own wedding planning business. Imagine that. And she's setting up pictures and labeling them carefully. At the same time, her sister is talking with someone on the cell phone and commenting to me, "Now where is Daddy..." Daddy?!! There are more people coming? What are they all planning to do? And what about my other 3 originally scheduled guest speakers- the eye doctor, the UN worker, and the microfinance director? How will they fit into this picture? And how do I manage to not offend anyone and get the maximum benefit for my students and not look like a total idiot?
Lunchtime comes, and I grab a bite in the teacher's room. On the way, the UN worker's child says, "My mom forgot- can she come on Thursday instead?" "YES," I answer. I eat, the other teachers snicker at my conundrum, but when I walk past my principal on the way back to my classroom, she comments, "Now there are 4 in there..." Turns out that not only Daddy showed up, but also another sister. I'm too overwhelmed to ask what she does. And then my other two guest speakers trickle in. So I have 6 adults, all of whom are doing favors for students by coming, and I have exactly 45 minutes to fit them all in, step on no toes, and hope my students learn something in the process!
As it turned out, things worked out OK. The last sister had only come to observe the family event. The first sister was introducing her father; introductions are very important in Kenya and can't be trusted to just anyone. Plus it would be rude for the father to talk about all the wonderful things he had done- better that his daughter do it. The second sister's sole purpose was to turn over the visual aids at the proper time. It turns out their family owns a fertilizer company that exports throughout East Africa, and their dad had built the business from scratch. So the bags of chemicals served a purpose. And when the father gave his inspirational words to the students, it was good his presentation was short- he was hard to understand. Looks of confusion filled the classroom when he said, "I most admire the poor voters because they are always training and striving to climb higher and higher. Even you, you must be like the poor voters." His daughter sensed the confusion, jumped in and said, "poor voters- you know, like in track." Oh, POLE VAULTERS! Always trying to climb higher and higher! Got it!
The other two speakers did get their 10 minutes, and students even got in some questions before the bell rang. But my favorite part of the period was the end, when the family presented me with a basket of vegetables, done up carefully with gauze and a giant yellow bow. What an honoring gift. Vegetables. =)
Overall, I was pleased with how Kenya seeped into my American classroom today. My students handled it well, as did the other speakers, and I got veggies for my stew tonight. Yum.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Plan, Please
I like having a plan, knowing the plan, and most of all, making the plan. There's a control freak in most of us; I euphemize it by calling myself an "orderly person." I remember my mom suppressing a guffaw when I told her, "Well, I just like to know all of the options all of the time..."
Which is why I'm so unnerved when I think about this summer. See, life in Kenya is somewhat unpredictable anyway, but at least I can usually count on the routine of school Monday-Friday. And as much as I whine about the cycle of grade-consider-assign-grade, it's kind of the bass line for my thoughts- lays down rhythm, gives me a structure to improvise above. Fourteen more school days, and the bass line gets muted.
Historically, I treasure my seasonal unemployment. I go to Young Life camp, drive and visit friends, ride bikes with Jill, take a few camping trips, meet people for lunch, go on hikes with my dog, make friends with summer students. Los Alamos swells with new possibilities in the summer as grad students wearing "I heart Physics" t-shirts start to populate the coffeeshops.
In contrast, my social circle is about to shrink. Some teachers are going on furlough for the summer. Other on-campus friends are just heading home for their yearly dose of plain M&Ms, legal copies of DVDs, and cheese from cows that _never_ eat trash. I'm jealous. Plus I'm missing 2 weddings of dear friends- I had even been scheming to see if I could get to Colorado and shock Tim and Christine by just showing up on May 30. Alas. It's the last day of school, and I've been away from my kids so much this year between mumps and civil unrest and Ben's wedding. I just couldn't justify it.
In fact, I think I'm supposed to stay here. I just wish I knew why. The "be a good missionary" tape in my head tells me this is a great opportunity for language study. I can't for the life of me seem to set anything up, though I've explored options from Nairobi to Dar es Salaam to Mombasa to Arusha. You would think, living in AFRICA, I could study Swahili pretty easily. You would be wrong. I think most of my frustration with an open-ended summer is rooted right there.
Now, I definitely need a break from my kids, and I'm sure the feeling is mutual. And summer is good- I've always seen it as a chance for rest and for greater ministry availability. And that still applies here. I just wish I knew some more specifics. In the past, I could count on building relationships at Young Life Camp and following them through. I could predict that there would be college students who came to Crossroads who would be excited about a good meal and some conversation. But I don't have those expected outlets here. And deep down inside, I think there should be more purpose to my summer than simply watching all the seasons of Alias...
But I know the Narrator of this story. He never lets me stagnate. He fills my days with the right things at the right time. And for now, He's choosing to remind me that He's the one with the plan, and there's no public information act entitling me to see it. It reminds me of a hymn I learned in Awana, off of one of those nifty giant flip books that predate powerpoint slides and even overheads:
When we walk with the Lord
In the light of His word
What a glory He sheds on our way
While we do His good will
He abides with us still
And with all who will trust and obey
But we never can prove
The delights of His love
Until all on the altar we lay
For the favor He shows
And the joy He bestows
Are for them who will trust and obey
Then in fellowship sweet
We will sit at His feet
Or we'll walk by His side in the way
What He says we will do
Where He sends we will go
Never fear- only trust and obey
Which is why I'm so unnerved when I think about this summer. See, life in Kenya is somewhat unpredictable anyway, but at least I can usually count on the routine of school Monday-Friday. And as much as I whine about the cycle of grade-consider-assign-grade, it's kind of the bass line for my thoughts- lays down rhythm, gives me a structure to improvise above. Fourteen more school days, and the bass line gets muted.
Historically, I treasure my seasonal unemployment. I go to Young Life camp, drive and visit friends, ride bikes with Jill, take a few camping trips, meet people for lunch, go on hikes with my dog, make friends with summer students. Los Alamos swells with new possibilities in the summer as grad students wearing "I heart Physics" t-shirts start to populate the coffeeshops.
In contrast, my social circle is about to shrink. Some teachers are going on furlough for the summer. Other on-campus friends are just heading home for their yearly dose of plain M&Ms, legal copies of DVDs, and cheese from cows that _never_ eat trash. I'm jealous. Plus I'm missing 2 weddings of dear friends- I had even been scheming to see if I could get to Colorado and shock Tim and Christine by just showing up on May 30. Alas. It's the last day of school, and I've been away from my kids so much this year between mumps and civil unrest and Ben's wedding. I just couldn't justify it.
In fact, I think I'm supposed to stay here. I just wish I knew why. The "be a good missionary" tape in my head tells me this is a great opportunity for language study. I can't for the life of me seem to set anything up, though I've explored options from Nairobi to Dar es Salaam to Mombasa to Arusha. You would think, living in AFRICA, I could study Swahili pretty easily. You would be wrong. I think most of my frustration with an open-ended summer is rooted right there.
Now, I definitely need a break from my kids, and I'm sure the feeling is mutual. And summer is good- I've always seen it as a chance for rest and for greater ministry availability. And that still applies here. I just wish I knew some more specifics. In the past, I could count on building relationships at Young Life Camp and following them through. I could predict that there would be college students who came to Crossroads who would be excited about a good meal and some conversation. But I don't have those expected outlets here. And deep down inside, I think there should be more purpose to my summer than simply watching all the seasons of Alias...
But I know the Narrator of this story. He never lets me stagnate. He fills my days with the right things at the right time. And for now, He's choosing to remind me that He's the one with the plan, and there's no public information act entitling me to see it. It reminds me of a hymn I learned in Awana, off of one of those nifty giant flip books that predate powerpoint slides and even overheads:
When we walk with the Lord
In the light of His word
What a glory He sheds on our way
While we do His good will
He abides with us still
And with all who will trust and obey
But we never can prove
The delights of His love
Until all on the altar we lay
For the favor He shows
And the joy He bestows
Are for them who will trust and obey
Then in fellowship sweet
We will sit at His feet
Or we'll walk by His side in the way
What He says we will do
Where He sends we will go
Never fear- only trust and obey
Monday, May 12, 2008
More Linguistic Fun
Many of the corrugated iron fences in Nairobi have been taken over by a particular paint company. Right now they're running an ad series that highlights basic colors- I recently saw a green background announcing the words: "Life. Health. Vitality." And though I was a grumpy teacher by the end of the day, I still laughed aloud when I passed a blue background that proclaimed: "Courage. Honor. Intellact."
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Decorating Skills
My Kenyan visitor looked around admiringly at the various fabrics and accents in the room. "Oh Jessie, you've made it so homely!"
"Thanks," I replied.
"Thanks," I replied.
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