I'm writting this from my luxuriously soft bed with unbelievably plump pillows with my own laptop, which actually has internet capability now. Yes, I'm home. Being re-introduced to Western life has caused an onslaught of adverbs. I just had some FRESH tomatoes, a slice of tangerine, and several GRAPES! I have checked facebook three whole times already. I can use tap water. I don't need an adaptor (or convertor, I could never figure out which one it is) when I charge my laptop. I can leave my hair out. I just changed my computer clock back to the US. Guess I'm truly home.
Leaving was....difficult, for so many reasons. India, or course, had to say goodbye in a truly India fashion, and so I got a nice high fever two days before leaving and the power went out most of my last day. The kids had much kinder ways of saying goodbye. Eighth grade made a circle around me and sang a song they made up, a combination of "Amazing Grace" and "The Bear Neccessities,) complete with motions. I got lots of beautiful cards. I was "farwelled" at my last assembly. Gayathri, one of my 8th graders, got up to talk about what I did, and Sowmani gave me a beautiful card on behalf of the whole school. Then I was supposed to say something in return: I made it short because my voice was quite, quite, wavery. And then Mrs. Law stood up and said all sorts of wonderful things.
And then there were the autograph books.
Most of the kids at Shanti Bhavan have one special notebook they give to volunteers to sign before leaving. In the beginning, I imagine people did just leave their signature. Later, perhaps, a short note. Now we write novels and go sticker-crazy with them. I had a stack about two feet high of them to write in. I have a sinking suspicion that what I wrote, since I had a fever and was freaking out about the plain, made very little sense.
Anyway, I can't believe it's done. I'd been dreaming of and planning for this trip abroad for a couple years before it happened. And now, in a click of my fingers (although the plane trip in reality was anything but quick), I've been transplanted. I'm too jetlagged to comprehend much right now--having been up an entire three hours, I'm ready for a nap. But I'm sure I will get incredibley Shanti-Bhavan sick soon. When you next see me, be prepared to be inundated with pictures of the kids I wish I had right next to me. It's been a challanging, amazing experience that bent, or perhaps straightened, or added to, my perspective on my own country, on India, on poverty, on education, on friendships, and on myself ad my abilities. I also happen to use the phrase "ayo" a lot.
Thank you everyone for reading! It's the first time I've had people actually read what I write, appart from essays for class. I almost feel published. But it has been good to have this connection to back home. I now I have a record for when my famoulsy faulty memory forgets India.
I really can't believe this is done.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Monday, January 25, 2010
I won't go home, I won't, I won't!
Yea I'm having problems. Each meal I sit and look at all their faces, and can't believe I won't be seeing them every day, some of them every again....I don't know how teachers do this every year. Guess I'll find out.
Yesterday was my last trip Out, and it was epically Indian. It was supposed to be a relaxing trip to Whitefield, a suburb of Bangalore, where there's a bomb tea place with wireless and a mall for some last minute shopping. Great. We get to the tea place to discover that they're closed on Mondays. Obviously we should have known that. Okay. We regroup, have lunch, and decide to go to Bangalore to a hookah cafe with wireless, should be fun. 45 minutes later we're camped out at a table, ignoring the waiters, hunched over our laptops in the smoke, trying to figure out how to make the wireless work. I think we were the only stressed people there. The waiters keep insisting the internet is on, we keep trying....to no avail. Second fail. Right. Growing desperate, we go down the street to Barista, the Indian Peet's. It says wireless on the storefront, should be okay. We spend the next half hour with a sweet and bumbling waiter who did not at all deserve our extremely frustrated remarks as we tried to explain to him what wireless was (it had only been put in a couple days before, apparantely. Yeah right) and spoke on the phone with his manager. We finally give up here too.
It was an exhausting day.
However, the day wasn't a total wash. I got my shopping done, and the wonderful experience of getting my hair oiled. Yes, sounds gross. Most women here oil their hair regularly instead of using conditioner. In a salon, getting your hair oiled means: they smooth the oil on your scalp and through the rest of the hair, and then proceed to a half-our long head and shoulder massage. It was beautiful. Then they steam your head, then wash it out (with beautifully hot water). My hair is actually still quite dry, but it's supposed to leave it shiny and soft. I bought a large bottle of coconut hair oil to bring home, and I plan on trying this out myself.
Classes last week were pretty confused due to a fundraising event happening at the school on Sunday- there was a lot of practicing of dances and evading of prep time. It was a strange reversal of expectationsl: I walked into classes assuming the homework was not done, and half the class waved their notebooks at me, grinning that they finished the assignments. This week will be strange too: we had Monday off to recover from Sunday, and Tuesday is Republic Day. I'm not sure how this is different from Independence Day, but we were warned not to go out of the school, the village would be too crazy for us to deal with it. I'm grading my last tests, figuring out my last assignments, sorting out my belongings to decide what to take home, and trying not to cry. It'll be a long four days!
Yesterday was my last trip Out, and it was epically Indian. It was supposed to be a relaxing trip to Whitefield, a suburb of Bangalore, where there's a bomb tea place with wireless and a mall for some last minute shopping. Great. We get to the tea place to discover that they're closed on Mondays. Obviously we should have known that. Okay. We regroup, have lunch, and decide to go to Bangalore to a hookah cafe with wireless, should be fun. 45 minutes later we're camped out at a table, ignoring the waiters, hunched over our laptops in the smoke, trying to figure out how to make the wireless work. I think we were the only stressed people there. The waiters keep insisting the internet is on, we keep trying....to no avail. Second fail. Right. Growing desperate, we go down the street to Barista, the Indian Peet's. It says wireless on the storefront, should be okay. We spend the next half hour with a sweet and bumbling waiter who did not at all deserve our extremely frustrated remarks as we tried to explain to him what wireless was (it had only been put in a couple days before, apparantely. Yeah right) and spoke on the phone with his manager. We finally give up here too.
It was an exhausting day.
However, the day wasn't a total wash. I got my shopping done, and the wonderful experience of getting my hair oiled. Yes, sounds gross. Most women here oil their hair regularly instead of using conditioner. In a salon, getting your hair oiled means: they smooth the oil on your scalp and through the rest of the hair, and then proceed to a half-our long head and shoulder massage. It was beautiful. Then they steam your head, then wash it out (with beautifully hot water). My hair is actually still quite dry, but it's supposed to leave it shiny and soft. I bought a large bottle of coconut hair oil to bring home, and I plan on trying this out myself.
Classes last week were pretty confused due to a fundraising event happening at the school on Sunday- there was a lot of practicing of dances and evading of prep time. It was a strange reversal of expectationsl: I walked into classes assuming the homework was not done, and half the class waved their notebooks at me, grinning that they finished the assignments. This week will be strange too: we had Monday off to recover from Sunday, and Tuesday is Republic Day. I'm not sure how this is different from Independence Day, but we were warned not to go out of the school, the village would be too crazy for us to deal with it. I'm grading my last tests, figuring out my last assignments, sorting out my belongings to decide what to take home, and trying not to cry. It'll be a long four days!
Friday, January 22, 2010
I hate saying goodbye
Really hate it. And as I get closer and closer to leaving (9 days and counting), everything I miss about home and Western life fades away. If asked right now, I would sign up for another six months! But then I remeber hot showers and salads, and all you people I haven't seen for half a year, and decide I'd better come home :)
During a 6th grade Civics class, I was having them draw symbols for vocabulary word #3, Finance. While everyone is thrusting their notebooks full of dollar signs and rupee notes in my face, Richard proudly pulls me to his desk. His symbol is a picture of 9/11: "because when they crashed, people lost lots of money," which is shown by lots of lines coming out of the tower. Before I could blink, most the notebooks in the class had similar drawings. In one sad way, he hit the nail right on the head...
The 10th and 12th grades are seriously gearing up for their board exams, which happen in late February and go on through the beginning of April. These poor kids make our studying look like bedtime reading. They now have to wake up at 5 so that they can be in the classroom by 5:30, pouring over their books. It's still dark out, they tell me, and SO COLD, even by non-Indian standards, and by the time they're released before breakfast, everyone is just waking up. Poor things. During my 10th grade periods we go outside to "study," but they've turned into some well-earned study breaks where we just chat. We've covered, among other things, how many children we want to have, favorite colors, how boring school is, chicken pox (a 6th grader just contracted it,) and siblings. They're a lot of fun, and I really hope I can come back before it's their turn to graduate.
Lately I've been having dinner with the little kids. After spending your day in the angst and hysteria that is middle school, it's incredibly refreshing to spend time with some squirmy 1st graders who go off into gales of giggles if I just wrinkle my nose at them. They're so funny to watch, little adults: there's one who rules the table, one who igores every one else, one who starts the fights. They like to tell me embarassing things about the older kids that sit with them: Divya told me that Manni likes to run his hand through his hair "like this" and she demonstrated. I happened to be sitting right next to the unfortunate Manni, who determindly kept shoveling in his rice.
I just had a GREAT lesson with the 8th grade, that feels like a sort of culmination of all our work and time together. I gave them a Mark Twain quote about the worst loneliness coming when you're not comfortable with yourself and told them they couldn't stop writing for 15 minutes. There was the expected whining and stalling, but they did it. And then had an actual discussion: when I tried discussions in September, I got a lot of blank stares and yawns. The stuff they managed to get out was surprising. One kid said there are no degree of loneliness, you either are or you aren't. One noticed a trend in the class's responses and used that to make a generalized statement about how we perceive loneliness. And one cocky student said he was always comfortable with himself, he was his own #1 fan. Huh. Then they did practice runs of the lines of Romeo and Juliet they are memorizing. A couple really get into it- the ones I thought likely to hate the assignment the most. They'd be so embarassed to hear me say so, but they are freaking adorable. Thinking back to how withdrawn they all were, especially the girls, in September, I stop grumbling about how their classroom behavior has exploded on me and am just glad their confidence has risen.
I think the hardest thing, thinking about leaving, is knowing how quickly I'll fall out of memory here. It happens to every volunteer, and is expected, even neccessary. How else can these children deal with the constant coming and going of volunteers, to whom they always get attached? If you bring up the names of even the most popular ex-volunteers, they are always stories and smiles- of course. But they're not thought of day-to-day, week-to-week. It's the past, and it stays there, from what I can tell. But that's life, and how things should be, and I'll just have to settle with showing you their pictures and telling you stories until you get so tired of it you run when you see me coming!
During a 6th grade Civics class, I was having them draw symbols for vocabulary word #3, Finance. While everyone is thrusting their notebooks full of dollar signs and rupee notes in my face, Richard proudly pulls me to his desk. His symbol is a picture of 9/11: "because when they crashed, people lost lots of money," which is shown by lots of lines coming out of the tower. Before I could blink, most the notebooks in the class had similar drawings. In one sad way, he hit the nail right on the head...
The 10th and 12th grades are seriously gearing up for their board exams, which happen in late February and go on through the beginning of April. These poor kids make our studying look like bedtime reading. They now have to wake up at 5 so that they can be in the classroom by 5:30, pouring over their books. It's still dark out, they tell me, and SO COLD, even by non-Indian standards, and by the time they're released before breakfast, everyone is just waking up. Poor things. During my 10th grade periods we go outside to "study," but they've turned into some well-earned study breaks where we just chat. We've covered, among other things, how many children we want to have, favorite colors, how boring school is, chicken pox (a 6th grader just contracted it,) and siblings. They're a lot of fun, and I really hope I can come back before it's their turn to graduate.
Lately I've been having dinner with the little kids. After spending your day in the angst and hysteria that is middle school, it's incredibly refreshing to spend time with some squirmy 1st graders who go off into gales of giggles if I just wrinkle my nose at them. They're so funny to watch, little adults: there's one who rules the table, one who igores every one else, one who starts the fights. They like to tell me embarassing things about the older kids that sit with them: Divya told me that Manni likes to run his hand through his hair "like this" and she demonstrated. I happened to be sitting right next to the unfortunate Manni, who determindly kept shoveling in his rice.
I just had a GREAT lesson with the 8th grade, that feels like a sort of culmination of all our work and time together. I gave them a Mark Twain quote about the worst loneliness coming when you're not comfortable with yourself and told them they couldn't stop writing for 15 minutes. There was the expected whining and stalling, but they did it. And then had an actual discussion: when I tried discussions in September, I got a lot of blank stares and yawns. The stuff they managed to get out was surprising. One kid said there are no degree of loneliness, you either are or you aren't. One noticed a trend in the class's responses and used that to make a generalized statement about how we perceive loneliness. And one cocky student said he was always comfortable with himself, he was his own #1 fan. Huh. Then they did practice runs of the lines of Romeo and Juliet they are memorizing. A couple really get into it- the ones I thought likely to hate the assignment the most. They'd be so embarassed to hear me say so, but they are freaking adorable. Thinking back to how withdrawn they all were, especially the girls, in September, I stop grumbling about how their classroom behavior has exploded on me and am just glad their confidence has risen.
I think the hardest thing, thinking about leaving, is knowing how quickly I'll fall out of memory here. It happens to every volunteer, and is expected, even neccessary. How else can these children deal with the constant coming and going of volunteers, to whom they always get attached? If you bring up the names of even the most popular ex-volunteers, they are always stories and smiles- of course. But they're not thought of day-to-day, week-to-week. It's the past, and it stays there, from what I can tell. But that's life, and how things should be, and I'll just have to settle with showing you their pictures and telling you stories until you get so tired of it you run when you see me coming!
Sunday, January 17, 2010
I'm back at Shanti Bhavan...and will be leaving in exactly two weeks. This is crazy. I admit I was hit hard with homesickness over the holidays, but buying my 8th graders goodbye pens makes me even more upset. Mostly, I'm trying not to think about it.
In more cheerful news, there was an eclipse two days ago! A partial solar eclipse here, but at the tip of India I believe the sun was totally blocked. I wasn't even aware what was going on until the light got very strange, and the weather chillier than normal. All the kids were in a shouting group outside the cafeteria, squiting up at the sun. You could see a dark concave bump at the based, where the moon had begun to pass, and all the shadows of the bushes were full of crecent shapes of sunlight. We walked around with spots in front of our eyes: one 4th grader asked me if "Miss's eyes were paining?" Yes, Miss's eyes hurt. Some of the older kids dug up some X-ray paper from the science labe (still not sure what that is) through which we could see the eclipse much better. The moon covered most of the sun: only a crescent showed. It was pretty awsome.
I don't think I've written about two of our regular stops during a Bangalore weekend: Gangaram's Bookstore and Cafe Coffee Day. The cafe is always, always first. Always the same one, becuase there's one intersection of the city we stick to, because we know our way around. Cafe Coffee Day is basically the Starbucks of India: it is everywhere (and I wonder if it's not owned by Starbucks or something). I don't think it's powerful enough to overcome India's love affair with chai tea, but it's doing a good job of putting up a fight. Chai is great and I'm now addicted, but this coffee is so good. Instead of croissants and pastries, there are samosas and veg potato puffs and such. We usually spend at least an hour there. Gangarams is usually next. There are three luxurious floors: one with all the Indian stationary/journals/cards/pens etc. you'll ever want, one quite literally spilling with novels, and one with research and reference material. When compared to the small stands that line the streets with old books in plastic wrapping flapping in the wind, this is a beautiful haven. The owner knows us by now (behind his back we call him Papa Gangaram) and loads the huge amounts of paper and pens and cards we inevitablely buy in the nicer bags.
Shanti Bhavan has been pretty crazy ever since I've been back. All of the volunteers from last term are gone except one. The kids are, mentally, still on break: it's been really hard getting them to focus on schoolwork, and I hate having to be extra strict in my last two weeks. It was really exciting to see them all after 3 weeks' holiday. I got scolded by Aishwarya, one of my 8th graders, for "bunking" and staying away an extra week (I got sick). When I came to dinner my first day back, everyone came over to shake hands and wish me Happy New Year. People are very into shaking hands here, where we would normally give a hug. It was all very sweet. Eighth grade has FINALLY finished Romeo and Juliet, and are now working on memorizing short speeches. There are quite a few budding actors in this class, and I'm anticipating some highly entertaining theater. Civics is grinding on as usual: I'm running out of ideas of how to make it interesting. Many of the classes have finished their grade's book and have moved on to the next grade's, which I have realized is a pretty common practice.
I will end with two lists I have compiled. First is a list of what I miss from home:
1. Panteen Pro-V Hydrating Curls shampoo and conditioner
2. black coffee
3. FRUIT
4. having things organized
5. HOT showers from a showerhead (we use buckets)
6. being able to show my shoulders and knees
Here's what I will miss from India (besides, of course, Shanti Bhavan in general)
1. chai
2. the sideways head wiggle, equivilent to the American nod, most of the time
3. how it's ok to be (very) late
4. the smells
5. the food (duh)
6. the innate hospitatity of Indian culture
7. hearing the vice principal rag on North India (there's quite a rivalry going on)
8. hearing "Happy Birthday" being sung in Indian accents
9. always having something to watch on the roads.
I will be home in two weeks! And will hopefully have time to post one or two more entries here.
In more cheerful news, there was an eclipse two days ago! A partial solar eclipse here, but at the tip of India I believe the sun was totally blocked. I wasn't even aware what was going on until the light got very strange, and the weather chillier than normal. All the kids were in a shouting group outside the cafeteria, squiting up at the sun. You could see a dark concave bump at the based, where the moon had begun to pass, and all the shadows of the bushes were full of crecent shapes of sunlight. We walked around with spots in front of our eyes: one 4th grader asked me if "Miss's eyes were paining?" Yes, Miss's eyes hurt. Some of the older kids dug up some X-ray paper from the science labe (still not sure what that is) through which we could see the eclipse much better. The moon covered most of the sun: only a crescent showed. It was pretty awsome.
I don't think I've written about two of our regular stops during a Bangalore weekend: Gangaram's Bookstore and Cafe Coffee Day. The cafe is always, always first. Always the same one, becuase there's one intersection of the city we stick to, because we know our way around. Cafe Coffee Day is basically the Starbucks of India: it is everywhere (and I wonder if it's not owned by Starbucks or something). I don't think it's powerful enough to overcome India's love affair with chai tea, but it's doing a good job of putting up a fight. Chai is great and I'm now addicted, but this coffee is so good. Instead of croissants and pastries, there are samosas and veg potato puffs and such. We usually spend at least an hour there. Gangarams is usually next. There are three luxurious floors: one with all the Indian stationary/journals/cards/pens etc. you'll ever want, one quite literally spilling with novels, and one with research and reference material. When compared to the small stands that line the streets with old books in plastic wrapping flapping in the wind, this is a beautiful haven. The owner knows us by now (behind his back we call him Papa Gangaram) and loads the huge amounts of paper and pens and cards we inevitablely buy in the nicer bags.
Shanti Bhavan has been pretty crazy ever since I've been back. All of the volunteers from last term are gone except one. The kids are, mentally, still on break: it's been really hard getting them to focus on schoolwork, and I hate having to be extra strict in my last two weeks. It was really exciting to see them all after 3 weeks' holiday. I got scolded by Aishwarya, one of my 8th graders, for "bunking" and staying away an extra week (I got sick). When I came to dinner my first day back, everyone came over to shake hands and wish me Happy New Year. People are very into shaking hands here, where we would normally give a hug. It was all very sweet. Eighth grade has FINALLY finished Romeo and Juliet, and are now working on memorizing short speeches. There are quite a few budding actors in this class, and I'm anticipating some highly entertaining theater. Civics is grinding on as usual: I'm running out of ideas of how to make it interesting. Many of the classes have finished their grade's book and have moved on to the next grade's, which I have realized is a pretty common practice.
I will end with two lists I have compiled. First is a list of what I miss from home:
1. Panteen Pro-V Hydrating Curls shampoo and conditioner
2. black coffee
3. FRUIT
4. having things organized
5. HOT showers from a showerhead (we use buckets)
6. being able to show my shoulders and knees
Here's what I will miss from India (besides, of course, Shanti Bhavan in general)
1. chai
2. the sideways head wiggle, equivilent to the American nod, most of the time
3. how it's ok to be (very) late
4. the smells
5. the food (duh)
6. the innate hospitatity of Indian culture
7. hearing the vice principal rag on North India (there's quite a rivalry going on)
8. hearing "Happy Birthday" being sung in Indian accents
9. always having something to watch on the roads.
I will be home in two weeks! And will hopefully have time to post one or two more entries here.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Merry Christmas from India!
I know it's not Christmas yet, but I won't have internet later :) I know I haven't updated for a bit, the last few weeks have been pretty crazy. All of us were looking forward to the peace and quiet brought by exam week, where we just had to stare at kids taking tests and make sure they didn't cheat, and the week following, when we didn't really have to teach anything. Of course (since this is India, and nothing happens the way you expect) they were exhausting, last week especially. Turns out it's harder to keep children in line when you have nothing to do with them. Also, everyone was giving out Christmas treats, so they were all hopped up on sugar. It was fun, however, to be able to chat with the older kids about non-school subjects and not feel guilty for it.
The last week was taken up mostly by Sports Day and the Christmas Party. Sports day is when all the kids are put into different houses (yes, like Harry Potter) and they compete against each other in races, marching, etc. They had a drum escort for the "guests of honor" (which turned out to be the volunteers) and had very serious marching exercises, complete with about-faces and clicking of heels. See if you could ever get American kids in such straight lines.
The Christmas party was put together by 11th grade and the volunteers, and by that I mean the 11th grade dreamt up all sorts of crazy ideas and it was the volunteer's not-so-fun job of bringing them back down to reality. It was a pretty stressful period of planning, since exam grading and Sports Day preparations were going on at the same time, but it turned out GREAT. The dining hall was decorated within an inch of its life, including a small fake tree and lots of colored lights. The tables were pushed to the side to form a big square, with tables in the middle for the 12th grade, the teachers, and the aunties (this havoc during dinner, as the kids didn't have their normally assigned seats.) Santa Claus's entrance was spectacular (it had to be: each year must be better than the last, and last year he came in a sleigh pulled by a motorbike). The boys had rigged up some contraption that allowed a cardboard reindeer to swoop through the trees by the dining hall. Then firecrackers went off, to show the sleigh had crashed. Then, Santa Claus came in on Shanti Bhavan's brand new ambulance! It was great, the MC had the entire school praying for Santa as we waited for the ambulance, and singing together "Here comes Santa Claus."
I'm with family back in Dharwar, where I first came with Dad and Lillian. It's hard being almost the only English speaker- every one keeps telling me to slow down, slow down when I talk. My cousin's kids were trying to teach me Kanada, the language spoken here, and were very amused by my pronunciation. I had a round of visits to do yesterday: I felt like some Victorian young lady. My stomach's been on the fritz lately, and I can eat only rice/bananas/chapti and similar bland stuff. I think it's driving my auntie, who is a marvelous cook and loves to feed people, crazy. Yesterday I took a little sambar with my rice and yogurt, and she was so happy.
I hope everyone has a very merry Christmas!
The last week was taken up mostly by Sports Day and the Christmas Party. Sports day is when all the kids are put into different houses (yes, like Harry Potter) and they compete against each other in races, marching, etc. They had a drum escort for the "guests of honor" (which turned out to be the volunteers) and had very serious marching exercises, complete with about-faces and clicking of heels. See if you could ever get American kids in such straight lines.
The Christmas party was put together by 11th grade and the volunteers, and by that I mean the 11th grade dreamt up all sorts of crazy ideas and it was the volunteer's not-so-fun job of bringing them back down to reality. It was a pretty stressful period of planning, since exam grading and Sports Day preparations were going on at the same time, but it turned out GREAT. The dining hall was decorated within an inch of its life, including a small fake tree and lots of colored lights. The tables were pushed to the side to form a big square, with tables in the middle for the 12th grade, the teachers, and the aunties (this havoc during dinner, as the kids didn't have their normally assigned seats.) Santa Claus's entrance was spectacular (it had to be: each year must be better than the last, and last year he came in a sleigh pulled by a motorbike). The boys had rigged up some contraption that allowed a cardboard reindeer to swoop through the trees by the dining hall. Then firecrackers went off, to show the sleigh had crashed. Then, Santa Claus came in on Shanti Bhavan's brand new ambulance! It was great, the MC had the entire school praying for Santa as we waited for the ambulance, and singing together "Here comes Santa Claus."
I'm with family back in Dharwar, where I first came with Dad and Lillian. It's hard being almost the only English speaker- every one keeps telling me to slow down, slow down when I talk. My cousin's kids were trying to teach me Kanada, the language spoken here, and were very amused by my pronunciation. I had a round of visits to do yesterday: I felt like some Victorian young lady. My stomach's been on the fritz lately, and I can eat only rice/bananas/chapti and similar bland stuff. I think it's driving my auntie, who is a marvelous cook and loves to feed people, crazy. Yesterday I took a little sambar with my rice and yogurt, and she was so happy.
I hope everyone has a very merry Christmas!
Friday, December 4, 2009
It's almost break!
...and it's very strange to be heading into Christmas without the pre-finals whirlwind. Mind you, there's a teacher version of that, consisting of writing tests, anticipating grading tests, squeezing in the rest of lessons, biding your time with classes who have finished what you needed them to do, chasing down students who have incomplete work.....All the same, it's strange to think that, a year ago, I was buried in a library writing about philosophy and such. I actually, kinda sort, miss writing essays.
To prepare for their cumulative term exam, 8th grade acted out Romeo and Juliet, as far as we'd read. To begin with, there was much drama about who would be the lovers. One group solved the problem by assigning both roles to Babu. For the balcony scene, he jumped between a chair (Juliet) and the floor (Romeo). Another group was performing the death of TYbalt and Mercutio, brandishing rulers before collapsing. As they did so, Benvolio let loose with rolled r's and cries of "Ayo! ayo!." This last is an Indian term of distress, used in tragic circumstances both current and Rennaissance, and when I give out too much homework. The Prince and Benvolio trooped onstage and began aruging over the corpse of Mercutio, which kept coughing because it had just recently been relased from the sick dorm. Actually, things looked pretty good for the corpse: he lay there with his hands under his head, elbows sticking out, and legs crossed, watching the exchange above him with interest until his disgusted classmates shouted that he was dead, close your eyes! It's funny (and, since I'm their lit teacher, wonderful/amazing) the quotes the class as a whole has latched onto and uses frequently. "Turning a swan into a crow," "woeful day," and "lamentable" are all favorites. Also, they picked up on an antithesis thing Shakespeare had going, all on their own, and incorporated it into their skits! I was so proud.
While setting the term exam papers for Civics, I realized that I now have an actual grasp of the material. Remembering the fuzz of Indian names, the key terms that mean one thing in American politics and another in Indian, I'm kind of shocked it happened. I can acutally answer some of the kid's questions without consulting the book! If anyone wants to know about the Lok Sabha or the judicial, executive, and legislative duties of the Indian President when I'm home, let me know.
The mosquitoes have been particularly bad lately. Big leggy ones go floating by, seeming to hang in the air like some grotesque fairy. My roommate Simmi bought a bug-zapping bat: shaped like a tennis racket, it electrocutes what it touches when turned on. A brilliant invention. At dusk we go on a crusade, sitting motionless, one of us poised with the zapper, waiting for one of the stupid things to move. It's very satisfying.
I was grading a 9th grade civics test the other day and was astounded by an answer I read. Generally, their answers are half-memorized words from the book and stray from the question. (The kids here suscribe to a tenet I remember following: put all you know down on the paper, you never know what might be right. And it makes you look smart.) Anyway, the question concerned the right to freedom of conscience in the context of religious tolerance in India. This student first defined it, which is all she needed to do. She then went on to explain that Hitler and the Nazis were examples of what happened when people weren't allowed to follow their own consciences, and wrapped up by concluding that freedom of conscience is very important because it is a way to make sure a government can never take such full control of its people again. I was floored and delighted- she made this dry, list-based subject mean something tangible and signficiant. I hope some of the others will maybe see something similar, just once.
Speaking of the Nazis- the Holocaust has really hit the school. Someone donated a copy of The Boy in Striped Pyjamas, and grades 7 through 12 watched it. WWII and concentration camps had just been facts in a history book, and this really brought it to life for them. THere were many disturbed questions about why it happened, how it happened. One of the volunteers is Jewish, and she was asked if she hated all Germans. There were surprised gasps when I mentioned I'm part German. It has been hard to get these kids to understand the wider world, since they live in such a contained environment, and this movie has really helped, if only because they now ask more questions. 8th grade moved from the Holocaust to Islamic fundamentalism, it's been equated to Partiton....lots of heavy but important stuff.
And on a lighter note....a sixth grader informed me last weekend that she had her first pimple. She was concerned not over its appearance, but over how much it hurt. Actually, these lucky kids don't seem to get too much acne. Anyway, it was cute how she was torn between being annoyed over this zit and being pleased at this sign of teen-ager-ism.
To prepare for their cumulative term exam, 8th grade acted out Romeo and Juliet, as far as we'd read. To begin with, there was much drama about who would be the lovers. One group solved the problem by assigning both roles to Babu. For the balcony scene, he jumped between a chair (Juliet) and the floor (Romeo). Another group was performing the death of TYbalt and Mercutio, brandishing rulers before collapsing. As they did so, Benvolio let loose with rolled r's and cries of "Ayo! ayo!." This last is an Indian term of distress, used in tragic circumstances both current and Rennaissance, and when I give out too much homework. The Prince and Benvolio trooped onstage and began aruging over the corpse of Mercutio, which kept coughing because it had just recently been relased from the sick dorm. Actually, things looked pretty good for the corpse: he lay there with his hands under his head, elbows sticking out, and legs crossed, watching the exchange above him with interest until his disgusted classmates shouted that he was dead, close your eyes! It's funny (and, since I'm their lit teacher, wonderful/amazing) the quotes the class as a whole has latched onto and uses frequently. "Turning a swan into a crow," "woeful day," and "lamentable" are all favorites. Also, they picked up on an antithesis thing Shakespeare had going, all on their own, and incorporated it into their skits! I was so proud.
While setting the term exam papers for Civics, I realized that I now have an actual grasp of the material. Remembering the fuzz of Indian names, the key terms that mean one thing in American politics and another in Indian, I'm kind of shocked it happened. I can acutally answer some of the kid's questions without consulting the book! If anyone wants to know about the Lok Sabha or the judicial, executive, and legislative duties of the Indian President when I'm home, let me know.
The mosquitoes have been particularly bad lately. Big leggy ones go floating by, seeming to hang in the air like some grotesque fairy. My roommate Simmi bought a bug-zapping bat: shaped like a tennis racket, it electrocutes what it touches when turned on. A brilliant invention. At dusk we go on a crusade, sitting motionless, one of us poised with the zapper, waiting for one of the stupid things to move. It's very satisfying.
I was grading a 9th grade civics test the other day and was astounded by an answer I read. Generally, their answers are half-memorized words from the book and stray from the question. (The kids here suscribe to a tenet I remember following: put all you know down on the paper, you never know what might be right. And it makes you look smart.) Anyway, the question concerned the right to freedom of conscience in the context of religious tolerance in India. This student first defined it, which is all she needed to do. She then went on to explain that Hitler and the Nazis were examples of what happened when people weren't allowed to follow their own consciences, and wrapped up by concluding that freedom of conscience is very important because it is a way to make sure a government can never take such full control of its people again. I was floored and delighted- she made this dry, list-based subject mean something tangible and signficiant. I hope some of the others will maybe see something similar, just once.
Speaking of the Nazis- the Holocaust has really hit the school. Someone donated a copy of The Boy in Striped Pyjamas, and grades 7 through 12 watched it. WWII and concentration camps had just been facts in a history book, and this really brought it to life for them. THere were many disturbed questions about why it happened, how it happened. One of the volunteers is Jewish, and she was asked if she hated all Germans. There were surprised gasps when I mentioned I'm part German. It has been hard to get these kids to understand the wider world, since they live in such a contained environment, and this movie has really helped, if only because they now ask more questions. 8th grade moved from the Holocaust to Islamic fundamentalism, it's been equated to Partiton....lots of heavy but important stuff.
And on a lighter note....a sixth grader informed me last weekend that she had her first pimple. She was concerned not over its appearance, but over how much it hurt. Actually, these lucky kids don't seem to get too much acne. Anyway, it was cute how she was torn between being annoyed over this zit and being pleased at this sign of teen-ager-ism.
It's almost break!
...and it's very strange to be heading into Christmas without the pre-finals whirlwind. Mind you, there's a teacher version of that, consisting of writing tests, anticipating grading tests, squeezing in the rest of lessons, biding your time with classes who have finished what you needed them to do, chasing down students who have incomplete work.....All the same, it's strange to think that, a year ago, I was buried in a library writing about philosophy and such. I actually, kinda sort, miss writing essays.
To prepare for their cumulative term exam, 8th grade acted out Romeo and Juliet, as far as we'd read. To begin with, there was much drama about who would be the lovers. One group solved the problem by assigning both roles to Babu. For the balcony scene, he jumped between a chair (Juliet) and the floor (Romeo). Another group was performing the death of TYbalt and Mercutio, brandishing rulers before collapsing. As they did so, Benvolio let loose with rolled r's and cries of "Ayo! ayo!." This last is an Indian term of distress, used in tragic circumstances both current and Rennaissance, and when I give out too much homework. The Prince and Benvolio trooped onstage and began aruging over the corpse of Mercutio, which kept coughing because it had just recently been relased from the sick dorm. Actually, things looked pretty good for the corpse: he lay there with his hands under his head, elbows sticking out, and legs crossed, watching the exchange above him with interest until his disgusted classmates shouted that he was dead, close your eyes! It's funny (and, since I'm their lit teacher, wonderful/amazing) the quotes the class as a whole has latched onto and uses frequently. "Turning a swan into a crow," "woeful day," and "lamentable" are all favorites. Also, they picked up on an antithesis thing Shakespeare had going, all on their own, and incorporated it into their skits! I was so proud.
While setting the term exam papers for Civics, I realized that I now have an actual grasp of the material. Remembering the fuzz of Indian names, the key terms that mean one thing in American politics and another in Indian, I'm kind of shocked it happened. I can acutally answer some of the kid's questions without consulting the book! If anyone wants to know about the Lok Sabha or the judicial, executive, and legislative duties of the Indian President when I'm home, let me know.
The mosquitoes have been particularly bad lately. Big leggy ones go floating by, seeming to hang in the air like some grotesque fairy. My roommate Simmi bought a bug-zapping bat: shaped like a tennis racket, it electrocutes what it touches when turned on. A brilliant invention. At dusk we go on a crusade, sitting motionless, one of us poised with the zapper, waiting for one of the stupid things to move. It's very satisfying.
I was grading a 9th grade civics test the other day and was astounded by an answer I read. Generally, their answers are half-memorized words from the book and stray from the question. (The kids here suscribe to a tenet I remember following: put all you know down on the paper, you never know what might be right. And it makes you look smart.) Anyway, the question concerned the right to freedom of conscience in the context of religious tolerance in India. This student first defined it, which is all she needed to do. She then went on to explain that Hitler and the Nazis were examples of what happened when people weren't allowed to follow their own consciences, and wrapped up by concluding that freedom of conscience is very important because it is a way to make sure a government can never take such full control of its people again. I was floored and delighted- she made this dry, list-based subject mean something tangible and signficiant. I hope some of the others will maybe see something similar, just once.
Speaking of the Nazis- the Holocaust has really hit the school. Someone donated a copy of The Boy in Striped Pyjamas, and grades 7 through 12 watched it. WWII and concentration camps had just been facts in a history book, and this really brought it to life for them. THere were many disturbed questions about why it happened, how it happened. One of the volunteers is Jewish, and she was asked if she hated all Germans. There were surprised gasps when I mentioned I'm part German. It has been hard to get these kids to understand the wider world, since they live in such a contained environment, and this movie has really helped, if only because they now ask more questions. 8th grade moved from the Holocaust to Islamic fundamentalism, it's been equated to Partiton....lots of heavy but important stuff.
And on a lighter note....a sixth grader informed me last weekend that she had her first pimple. She was concerned not over its appearance, but over how much it hurt. Actually, these lucky kids don't seem to get too much acne. Anyway, it was cute how she was torn between being annoyed over this zit and being pleased at this sign of teen-ager-ism.
To prepare for their cumulative term exam, 8th grade acted out Romeo and Juliet, as far as we'd read. To begin with, there was much drama about who would be the lovers. One group solved the problem by assigning both roles to Babu. For the balcony scene, he jumped between a chair (Juliet) and the floor (Romeo). Another group was performing the death of TYbalt and Mercutio, brandishing rulers before collapsing. As they did so, Benvolio let loose with rolled r's and cries of "Ayo! ayo!." This last is an Indian term of distress, used in tragic circumstances both current and Rennaissance, and when I give out too much homework. The Prince and Benvolio trooped onstage and began aruging over the corpse of Mercutio, which kept coughing because it had just recently been relased from the sick dorm. Actually, things looked pretty good for the corpse: he lay there with his hands under his head, elbows sticking out, and legs crossed, watching the exchange above him with interest until his disgusted classmates shouted that he was dead, close your eyes! It's funny (and, since I'm their lit teacher, wonderful/amazing) the quotes the class as a whole has latched onto and uses frequently. "Turning a swan into a crow," "woeful day," and "lamentable" are all favorites. Also, they picked up on an antithesis thing Shakespeare had going, all on their own, and incorporated it into their skits! I was so proud.
While setting the term exam papers for Civics, I realized that I now have an actual grasp of the material. Remembering the fuzz of Indian names, the key terms that mean one thing in American politics and another in Indian, I'm kind of shocked it happened. I can acutally answer some of the kid's questions without consulting the book! If anyone wants to know about the Lok Sabha or the judicial, executive, and legislative duties of the Indian President when I'm home, let me know.
The mosquitoes have been particularly bad lately. Big leggy ones go floating by, seeming to hang in the air like some grotesque fairy. My roommate Simmi bought a bug-zapping bat: shaped like a tennis racket, it electrocutes what it touches when turned on. A brilliant invention. At dusk we go on a crusade, sitting motionless, one of us poised with the zapper, waiting for one of the stupid things to move. It's very satisfying.
I was grading a 9th grade civics test the other day and was astounded by an answer I read. Generally, their answers are half-memorized words from the book and stray from the question. (The kids here suscribe to a tenet I remember following: put all you know down on the paper, you never know what might be right. And it makes you look smart.) Anyway, the question concerned the right to freedom of conscience in the context of religious tolerance in India. This student first defined it, which is all she needed to do. She then went on to explain that Hitler and the Nazis were examples of what happened when people weren't allowed to follow their own consciences, and wrapped up by concluding that freedom of conscience is very important because it is a way to make sure a government can never take such full control of its people again. I was floored and delighted- she made this dry, list-based subject mean something tangible and signficiant. I hope some of the others will maybe see something similar, just once.
Speaking of the Nazis- the Holocaust has really hit the school. Someone donated a copy of The Boy in Striped Pyjamas, and grades 7 through 12 watched it. WWII and concentration camps had just been facts in a history book, and this really brought it to life for them. THere were many disturbed questions about why it happened, how it happened. One of the volunteers is Jewish, and she was asked if she hated all Germans. There were surprised gasps when I mentioned I'm part German. It has been hard to get these kids to understand the wider world, since they live in such a contained environment, and this movie has really helped, if only because they now ask more questions. 8th grade moved from the Holocaust to Islamic fundamentalism, it's been equated to Partiton....lots of heavy but important stuff.
And on a lighter note....a sixth grader informed me last weekend that she had her first pimple. She was concerned not over its appearance, but over how much it hurt. Actually, these lucky kids don't seem to get too much acne. Anyway, it was cute how she was torn between being annoyed over this zit and being pleased at this sign of teen-ager-ism.
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