Grinch

So I'm not much of a holidays person. They are nice. But sometimes I'd rather just relax. Instead of cooking food for 50 million people, finding perfect gifts for everyone, cleaning the house obsessively because you never know when someone might drop by, and etc and etc. Because I'm lazy like that.

Therefore, I am happy to declare this Christmas officially OVER. Well... it will be over once I finish cleaning up after the impromptu Christmas dinner my friends decided to throw AT MY HOUSE last night.

I am also happy to announce that in approximately 5 hours, I will be boarding a bus to BALI! So I should arrive in that touristy tropical paradise anywhere between 23 and 32 hours from now.

Here's to hoping for 23.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, everyone!

THE END

I feel like I've spent the last week living out of a bag. I pack a bag, leave the house, come home for 5 minutes, quickly unpack the bag, re-pack it for the next event, and I'm off again. I've mostly just been using my house to sleep in this week - and even that way less than normal.

At this point, basically every flat surface in my home - including the floor - is covered with stuff that got dumped out of various bags and hasn't gotten put away yet. My goal is to ignore it until tomorrow.

Because Christmas break officially starts TOMORROW. I have two and a half weeks off! So I can clean my house to my heart's content. And it is coming just in time. I think I finally reached my tired limit today - at about the 9th hour of wedding photographing.

But all the craziness and tiredness and soreness and disarray are worth it to see these smiles.

Case in Point

Before you read this, you should read my last blog post, which I wrote approximately 8 minutes ago. Right after posting that, a junior came into my classroom to have the following conversation.

Student: Have you graded our exams?
Me: Yup!
Student: Can I see mine?
Me: Nope, sorry. I don't hand exams back.
Student: Oh. Well, can I know what I got?
Me: I don't remember off the top of my head, but I'll post it on Engrade (our online gradebook) before I go home today, so you can check later.
Student: OK, but what was my grade?
Me: I don't remember.
Student: Was it the worst grade in the class?
Me: Um... I don't remember.
Student: What range was it in?
Me: I don't remember.
Student: 60?
Me: Don't remember...
Student: 40?
Me: I STILL DON'T REMEMBER.
Student: *frustrated with me* Okaaaaaay. Bye.

It is a wonder I have never physically assaulted a student...

My, How They've Grown

If you have been reading my blog for the past few years, you might remember that 9th grade class from hell that I taught 2 years back. I wrote a lot of "woe is me" blogs regarding my experience with that class. Well, I had them again in 10th grade last year. And now I have them AGAIN in 11th grade. These things happen in small schools...

Over time, I've gotten to know the students in this class. I now know their families. I know their stories. I know their quirks. I could pick each of their handwriting out of a lineup of 100 - which is good, since they usually forget to put their name on their homework. I have come to value and appreciate and even generally LIKE them as human beings.

But lock me in a classroom with ALL of them for 90 minutes a day, and it feels like a 90 minute train wreck.

While I can see some growth and change in them over the past few years, I still often feel like I'd rather be beating my head against the wall than attempting to teach them math. Or herding cats. That sounds easier.

They took their semester final this morning. As I was monitoring them, I was thinking of the past few years. And it was with no small amount of regret that I wished I could have a better relationship with these kids. I feel like I've spent SO much time over the past few years trying to get them to do those basic fundamental things that come so easily to other classes that I haven't had time to really build a relationship with them. Things like thinking for yourself, bringing paper and a pencil to class, not throwing garbage on the floor, remembering to put your name on assignments, not speaking rudely to others, not copying homework, listening when the teacher is teaching, and not getting angry when you ask her to repeat something for the SIXTH time and she refuses to do so - these are things these high school juniors just CAN'T seem to be able to do. STILL. And I feel like I'm fighting a losing battle sometimes.

So I am more strict with this class than I am with my other classes. This class has more rules than any other class I teach. I end up being the bad guy a lot. I get more frustrated with this class than I ever have with any other class. I have almost cried in this class more than any other class. And I feel like that has hurt my chances of having as good of a relationship with them as I might have had.

But I don't know what to do about it.

I contemplated this for quite awhile as they took their final this morning.

When the final ended, all the students rushed off to their next exam. One came back though, and he handed me a candy bar and an envelope and told me to have a merry Christmas.

After he left, I opened the envelope. Inside was a letter.

"Dear Miss. I can't believe that I survived the first semester of pre-cal. Now I look forward to the remaining second semester. I just want to tell you that you are one of the greatest and most influential teachers in our school. Yes, I don't really like math and do bad in it, but it's not your fault at all. It's just that I'm better in other stuff than math. And one of the biggest reasons I was able to survive my high school math was cause of your effective teaching. You always explain everything very specifically, always teach us whether you are sick or healthy, and most of the time answer my never-ending questions. There are numerous times in class when I think to myself, 'When I become a teacher, I wanna be like Ms. P'. I'm sorry for asking you so many questions. I will try to listen more attentively in class and diligently take notes. Seriously, if someone else was my math teacher, I would have almost failed it, but I'm glad that I have such an awesome teacher like you. Have a nice Christmas break!"

Speaking of almost crying in class...

He has no idea how perfectly timed that letter was, and he'll never know what it means to me.

It means there is hope. Hope that even though I'm the bad guy, they know how much I care about them. Hope that they see that I'm trying. Hope that they know change needs to happen. Hope that I'm doing something right.

There it is...

I always feel like the last month or so of every semester is a huge whirlwind of activity and vacation is a nice long time to catch my breath after that mess. But this end-of-semester has been fairly easy. In fact, I was thinking that just last week. Naturally, I jinxed myself. I think all of the craziness that should have occurred over the past month got crammed into this coming WEEK.

This week I have three days of teaching and two days of finals. So that means end of the year grading, finals prep for students, writing finals, grading finals, turning in quarter grades and final exam grades. I have three Christmas parties. I have to tutor English. I have three days to prepare and throw a bachelorette party. I have a wedding to go to on Friday. Then I have a traditional two day wedding (different from the Friday one) that I'm photographing on Saturday and Sunday. I'm also doing the flowers for that wedding. I'm hosting my church's college group on Thursday to make Christmas cookies. I need to do a test run on the Christmas cookies before then though, because I'm trying to find a recipe that doesn't have to chill for hours. I need to buy Christmas presents for people from school because after Friday, I won't see most of them again until the end of break. I need to get two packages ready for people in America that I'm going to send with my neighbor (who is going home for Christmas this Saturday). I need to get everything ready for the beginning of second semester because once break starts, I AM NOT SETTING FOOT IN THIS CLASSROOM. I need to go to the ATM so that I can give my helper her Christmas bonus this week. I also need to get two wedding gifts. Just remembered that one. Writing this all down is helpful.

Am I stressed? Not yet.
Will I be ready for break by the end of this week? GOSH, YES.

Hemingway

I was out for coffee tonight with a student and a friend who also works at the school. My friend is not American, but he has VERY good English and is probably more well read than I am. The same goes for the student - not a native English speaker, but he is CONSTANTLY reading, and in January he'll be taking the Literature SAT 2.

Anyways, our conversation somehow suddenly turned to Hemingway earlier. I don't really remember what led up to it, but it probably doesn't matter. What is important is that I learned that while my friend is very well read, he is not very good at remembering book titles, as you shall soon see...

Student: HEMINGWAY!
Friend: Yeah, I like Hemingway. I've read some of his stuff.
Student: Like what?
Friend: I liked An Old Man in The Sea.
Me: Do you mean The Old Man and The Sea?
Friend: Yeah, that one.
Student: I didn't read that one yet.
Friend: The only other one I've read by him is Goodbye My Left Arm.
Me: Goodbye My Left Arm?
Student: Um... I don't think I know that one...?
Friend: Oh, it's something about goodbyes and arms and um.... I think there was a war and his arm got cut off or something...
Student: A Farewell to Arms?
Friend: Yes, THAT'S the one!
Me: GOODBYE MY LEFT ARM!!!!!!!

The Greatest

So I have 10th grade homeroom, which means that I have to make sure they're in dress code every morning. Dress code is pretty easy. Their options are black or khaki pants/knee length shorts and a solid colored collared shirt. I'm known as a pretty strict dress code checker... I go around the room and check every student every day. Because of that, my 10th graders show up every day perfectly in dress code. They know they'll get sent home if they don't.

School just ended for the day, and a 10th grade boy just came into my classroom to tell me, "Miss, the principal just saw me and he said my shorts are not dress code."

He was wearing white-ish khaki cargo shorts. I asked him what was wrong with them. And he kindly said, "They're too white. They're not khaki. So I can't wear them to school. The principal said. And I just wanted to let you know because I'm afraid that one day I might forget they're not allowed and I might wear them to school. And then you need to send me home if I do that because I don't want you to get in trouble for not doing your job if the principal catches me wearing these shorts again."

I have the greatest students. I didn't realize that shorts could be too white for dress code, and he totally could have gotten away with it. But he wanted to make sure I was protected and able to do my job well.

Now, I just need to remember this story the next time this student asks me something I have already explained 5 times. Or the next time I ask him to explain how to solve a math problem and he replies, "POWER AND SKILL, BABY!" Or the next time he pinches my elbow skin while I'm checking his outfit in homeroom.

"IT FEELS FUN!" Every day...

Mondays.

Sometimes I leave the house and something just doesn't feel right. I usually ask myself, "Am I wearing underwear?" Sometimes the answer is no and I have to go back home.

This morning, something felt weird. I did the mental underwear check. Everything seemed to be in place. So I came to school. It wasn't until I got here that I figured it out.

I never took my pajamas off this morning. I put my clothes on OVER my pajamas. I am wearing my pajamas UNDER my school clothes. And today is an A day - so back to back to back to back classes with no break.

It's gonna be a lumpy Monday.

Pet Peeves

I am learning that living in another country comes with two sets of pet peeves.

Obviously, you have your pet peeves about the culture you are living in. Like how people drive at night with no headlights on because they think it conserves battery. Or how time is rubber and nobody ever shows up when they say they will and you end up waiting alone for 30 minutes while everybody stares at you and wonders why a white person is sitting there alone. Or how people slurp and suck on their food - namely chicken heads - and it makes you totally lose your appetite.

The not so obvious set of pet peeves that I only just recently learned about myself involves the way people from your home country treat you. These people generally fall into a few categories.

1. People who don't realize that you can live in a real house in a real city in a third world country and not everybody lives in a tree house in the jungle and eats grubs three meals a day.

2. People who write/talk to you and ask, "So how's Indonesia?" like an entire five year experience can be summed up in one quick reply.

3. People who don't realize that Indonesia is NOT the same as America and don't understand why.

4. People who believe that I have NO CLUE what is happening in the rest of the world and speak to me condescendingly because of it.

That last one is the one that is getting me lately. I recently read the status of a young man from my hometown who complained what a terrible place America is because the human rights and civil rights of white people are being lost. At first, I was genuinely concerned that something very negative had happened to him. So I commented to ask him how exactly his rights were violated. He wrote back to say that it was nothing personal but how sad it is that American's original settlers are being treated unfairly. Feeling less sympathetic, I responded how it surely is a tragedy the way those Native Americans were/are treated. This turned into a long dialogue that mostly entailed him impatiently "explaining" to me that white people are the original Americans but now we've let so many immigrants in and treated them too kindly and white people are being overrun and this is very terrible for white people because white people are the ones who MADE the rights and Obama is the worst and what would our founding fathers think. Basically, it sounded like he believed that since white people created the rights, they should not apply to other people like immigrants and minorities and homosexuals. I challenged him on a couple points. Instead of answering, he informed me that I just don't understand because I haven't been to America for so long and if I could see firsthand, then I would obviously be on his side. The conversation ended shortly after that (and after I reminded him that if it weren't for immigrants rights, he and I wouldn't be where we are today) because I didn't have anything nice to say, so I chose not to say anything at all.

That's not the only time it has happened in recent months. A few times now, I've gotten the, "You don't understand because you're not here" speech. I don't need to be IN America to know what is happening there. I will be the first to admit that I am not always great on keeping up with world news, but it doesn't mean I am clueless as to what is happening in the rest of the world. And I'm a little bit offended when people assume that I am.

I know that the people in all 4 categories above mean well. They really do. And I get that. And all of those offences are really nothing more than pet peeves. Easy to forgive. But when they happen, it is REALLY hard not to roll my eyes.

So I'm sorry if I ever involuntarily roll my eyes at you. It probably means you are pet peeving me.

What a weird word.

Textbook question: In an experiment, students netted butterflies, recorded the number with tags on their wings, and then released them. The students netted 48 butterflies and 3 of those had tagged wings. Predict the number of butterflies that would have tagged wings out of 100 netted.

Student: What does netting mean??
Me: Catching with nets.
Student: Who even uses that word?! This is ridiculous. Why can't they just say catched?

Giving Thanks

"Living in America must be so wonderful".

It's a simple sentence, but it always rubs me the wrong way. I don't like it when people assume that life in America is like living in some fantasy land. Life in America is not all sunshine and princesses and mansions and dreams come true.

Being a foreigner who desperately just wants to fit in, I usually try to find the similarities, not point out the differences. And so when people here make comments like that to me, I usually respond with something like, "Well, every country has its goods and its bads, just like Indonesia". Polite, but reminding them that America probably isn't the paradise that they think it is.

I was getting ready to deliver my response, but I paused. I looked at the 7th grade girl across the table from me and I could tell she was already 15,000 miles away, trying to imagine America, that magical place she only knows from the movies.

And instead, I bit my tongue.

I was supposed to be helping her with her English homework. This girl. This 13 year old girl. Whose face was smudged with dirt. Who lives in a house with dirt floors. Who goes to one of the worst middle schools in town. Who doesn't know her own father. Whose mother is a prostitute.

I decided to do Thanksgiving a little bit differently this year. I didn't have a turkey dinner. I didn't spend time with other Americans. There was no stuffing or green bean casserole or pumpkin anything. Nobody asked me what I'm thankful for.

Instead, I went to the red light district of town and taught English.

And in a ramshackle little building with holes in the roof, surrounded by 15 rambunctious, runny nosed children, I was reminded of exactly how much I have to be thankful for.

I am thankful that in every situation, I have Hope to hold onto.

I am thankful for two loving parents in my life who I know would sacrifice anything for me.

I am thankful for the friends I have in my life from all over the world who love me and pray for me and encourage me and support me.

I am thankful for the education I received that led to me being a teacher in Indonesia.

I am thankful that I have enough.

And I am thankful that I am American. Even though it might not be a Disney princess paradise world.

I watched her for a minute from across the table. She eventually looked back at me with a shy smile. I didn't know what to say to her, so I smiled back and we continued working on her homework.

Devi. Her name is Devi.