Odds and Ends

Several days ago me and Jo got out of school and started walking towards the train station...our route takes us by the track field and past the first building of the school.  This day though, we happened to walk by right during rappelling class (which we didn't know existed).  A group of seventh graders and their teacher were rappelling down the side of the school!  They were hooked to the railing on one of the upper stories.  It was really fun to watch, especially since some of them were pretty apprehensive.

We taught at one of our last temporary outside schools for the year and it was way up in the mountains.  The area is apparently famous for hang gliding.  Before we left we were waiting at the front of the school watching our kids practice singing one of their tribal songs in the field.  All of the sudden it started pouring rain - it was one of the first rains we've seen this season.  It was really refreshing and hilarious to watch because the teachers made the kids finish the song out in the field.  As soon as they were done all the kids ran to where we were under the sheltered foyer.  As a gift, they gave us a CD of songs that our students had recorded.  

One of the new classes we started at our school is a music class and of course since we are English teachers, we teach English songs - and we get to pick the songs.  It's so fun to end a class period and hear the kids singing 'Do, Lord'.  The new classes are a little bit stressful, but I know that the little opportunities we get like that to put in a tiny glimpse of our faith makes it worth it. 

I'm reading through Nehemiah, and realizing how much he did for the people of Israel in the rebuilding of Jerusalem.  He cries out to God in 5:19 to think on him for good.  While over here, I certainly haven't done anything that could compare to Nehemiah's work, but I hope someday I'll be able to make as much a difference as he did for the Lord.

New Plans (Lesson)

Last week we had a meeting at the English village with six different elementary schools.  All six of us teachers are assigned right now for the month of June to teach at one of these schools.  I was placed at a school where I already know the kids, and I am friends with the English teacher.  All of us are a little bit apprehensive about what we are going to be doing since this is a whole new game for us.  All year we have had to be flexible within certain unvariables, but this last month we've been getting ready for many changes that we will be implenting to kick off for the new teachers coming next year.  That meeting was one of the most scariest things on my agenda besides next month, and God was so good to answer my prayers for it to go well.  The Lord has been incredibly gracious to me recently especially as it has been kind of stressful working out the new programs and stuff as a teacher.  

It hasn't been all work and no play though...on Tuesday we went to inspect a crocodile farm as a prospective activity for summer camps.  After feeding the crocs and then fishing for bullfrogs we got to hold one of the smaller gators.  At the end of our visit, the man was showing us around tied a pig's foot onto a big bamboo pole and dangled it over the pool where the 30 year old crocodiles were...they jumped and snapped at it, and the guy was just standing there pulling on the pole to tease them out of the water.  

Immense

Psalm 81:10 "I am the Lord thy God, which brought thee out of the land of Egypt: open thy mouth wide, and I will fill it."

I always thought this verse sounded kind of funny with the metaphor that God was using...but as I look back on this past week...I realize that we have received some immense answers to prayer.  As a team, we have petitioned the Lord for opportunities regarding reaching out in our community.  This Sunday us four girls had a chance to host five young students at our house for an Easter celebration.  We shared the story of Easter with them...and all of them said it was their first time to hear about it.  Afterward, we introduced them to a more 'American tradition'...Easter egg painting.  We had a really good time with them and were so grateful for the chance to tell them a little more about our faith.  Some of our students want so much to spend time with us, that they'll come to church with us, even if they are practicing Buddhists!  If we can't understand the service, at least they can... our prayer is that while we are here, and after we leave, the students we have gotten to know will think about the way that we American teachers are different, and seek out more about the faith they see in us.  

Us four girls are trying to organize a Saturday program we can have for a small group of students.  Most of our Saturdays are spent doing something with them, but we really want to start a consistent time to get together.  We could really use your prayers - a lot of times for us the weekend is so easy to just take for ourselves and rest after the school week than struggle for several hours over a language barrier with young teenagers.

For everyone back home who has been praying for my safety overseas...your prayers came in handy today.  I had my first car + bike accident - and I was on the bike.  I was on my way to the store to pick up some bacon for dinner, when a parallel parked car started to pull out into the road.  There wasn't enough time for me to stop or swerve away.  The front tire of my bike hit the front fender and I lurched into my handlebars and got flipped sideways onto my back.  I was stunned, but I was also laying in the road, so I jumped up and went to my bike.  The tire was at an almost right-angle with my handlebars and the right pedal was stuck under the front of the car.  I yanked it out, (I must confess not really caring if I was damaging the vehicle that had just inflicted such trauma to my person) and tried to get back on...that's when I realized about the handle bars.  I put the tire between my knees and twisted the bars back into position and hoped that it would stay put - I still had to go get the bacon.  I was still shaking when I got home, and a little bit bruised, but as I look back, it could have been so much more serious.  God has his hand over me, and it's such a safe feeling to realize that nothing can happen to me that He does not allow.  My name is written on His hand and everywhere I am He is continually aware of my needs.  -Isaiah 49:16 "Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands; thy walls are continually before me."

Precious

My kids try so hard to make me happy.  They stumble over words and think nothing of how silly their pronunciation might sound to me...they just want me to know that they want to be able to say it...for me...the teacher.  I've been here for almost eight months now, and as I look back...I'm trying to see all the things that I have done for the Lord that would make him happy.  I wonder what he saw as silly choices.  I feel just like one of the little kids I teach...fumbling around the things in my path, and trying to do my best for the Teacher.  I wonder if my kids are thinking about how well they measure up - if they make the cut.  It makes me think about how concerned I should be about what the Lord thinks of my accomplishments and failures over here.

What's Your Name?

Yesterday's school was about an hour away.  It was constructed on the side of a mountain so the track field looks out over the expansive valley.  All of the students are aboriginal.  English classes start in third grade for children here, so typically we do not teach any grades below that level.  This school made a special request that we hold a class for the second graders.  Each of the eleven students in the class are barely taller than my knee, and even the most simple words we use in English are nothing to them.  There goes our lesson plan.  I stand in front of them and ask in Chinese "Do any of you have an English name?"  They reply back to me in their language, "No.".  "Do you want to have an English name?" I ask, still in Chinese... one little boy in the front slowly raises his hand, then another student, then another.  We go through the class to each child and give them each a piece of paper with their new name.  We help them say it once, then twice - and many times.  They bravely answer our question "What is your name?" with the sentence pattern we teach them in English "My name is ____.".  They are so proud of themselves and say their new name to themselves over and over under their breath.  Their Chinese name is still the one they use, but in the years to come, they will need an English name if they ever hope to break out of the simple life they've known.  To the people here an English name is almost like a symbol of hope for the future.  

The Smaller Events

I'm standing at the front of my classroom - it's breaktime.  On my left a group of boys is throwing something into the ceiling fan and it ricochets out the window.  The girls are somewhat more peacefully occupied rifling through my teaching supplies at the desk.  One of the kids is drawing a rather graphic war scene on the chalkboard next to another young rascal who is working on the finishing touches of a portrait - in other words, the boogars.  I'm in the middle of all this engaged in a paper-scissors-stone competition with one of the rowdier little boys - Arthur - and we're playing that the loser takes a levered flick to forehead - I've held my own, so I think we're both a little dazed.  This next class will mark what's probably 300 plus games of animal bingo I've played in a classroom this semester.  I love my job, but I just fell for this weekend.

Saturday I went to a 'dodgebee' (dodgeball, only with a frisbee) tournament for a school I taught at sometime this month.  I know the English teacher there and he lets me know when practice is.  I've gotten to join in a few days here and there for training so I've spent a bit more time with these kids than I get to with most.  

I sit on the sidelines talking with them until it's their match.  They line up and we all high-five before they go out on the court.  They're incredibly good at the game - I was so proud when they won.  I couldn't make it to the next match, but I got a text today telling me that they took third in the national competition.  I'm hoping to see them again soon.  

As I sat in that gymnasium on Saturday listening to all that little team, I realized - though not for the first time - that I was basically deaf.  The little boys chattered to me and laughed and commented on the game in front of us, and I smiled and strained to understand.  But it didn't matter...I wouldn't have mattered if I was deaf because I would have experienced the same feeling - an outsider trying to break into the circle where they would be so welcome if only they could get in.  I wonder how much they could have - would have said to me if only we could understand each other.  Child-eyes might speak, but I know now that they can never tell enough.

I went out to buy dinner the other night and as I stood waiting for my rice, the cook and waitress were having an animated conversation about something and laughing over it- maybe a customer, maybe a kitchen incident.  We exchanged smiles when they glanced at me, but I could see they realized I didn't understand.  They can talk freely because it is as if I never heard their lively banter in the first place.  I'm missing out on a world here...and one of the only consolations is the fact that I'm mostly unable to realize it.

The Road Home

I'm balancing on a six inch wide wall of concrete that cuts through the rice field we have to get across.  I readjust my precariously placed backpack - there's about 200 feet left to go.  I'm on my way home from a visit to my friend Celia in middle Taiwan.  We're going into the city by bus so I can catch my train.  The last time I made this trek I had no seat on the train, and this trip was no different.  I say goodbye to Celia and hop on a car to try and find a good standing place.  I end up in the middle of the aisle with other poor pilgrims who didn't purchase their ticket in advance.  I'm next to two young girls who are pestering each other to be the first to say 'hello' to me.  I don't speak a lot of Chinese, but I could gather that much from the giggling and backward glances.  With half an hour left to my trip the conductor stamps my ticket and finds me an empty seat next to three college students - one of whom was a foreign exchange student in America for ten months.  I struggled to communicate with another woman questioning me in Chinese about the cram school teacher in front of us... "No, I don't know him."  "Yes, he works at a cram school."  "Yes, he is probably from America too."  Once I finally got to the station I switched trains at, I made a query as to where my train would depart from..."EH?" the lady asked me... "To Chaojhou!" I repeated... a college student came to my rescue and said "I'm on the same train, it leaves in two minutes from the platform over." We started booking it towards the bridge and all of the sudden my hand was taken by the lady I had first asked..."Follow me! I'll take you too, but we have to run!!"  All three of us practically flew up the three flights of stairs to the bridge, across the bridge and then down three more flights of stairs to the platform.  Me and the student jumped on with just enough time for me to wave to the lady and thank her.  When the conductor came around, my new friend wouldn't let me pay for my ticket adjustment... after a short conversation, I found out he has a sister living in Illinois and hopes to travel there someday.  Once he got off at his stop, a soldier-turned-postman-from-the-east-side came and interrogated me as to what I was doing here... he gives out the customary exclamation when he finds out how old I am and asks what on earth am I doing teaching English in a foreign country at my age.  I laugh and for a brief moment, wonder myself.  I've been traveling for about five hours - met a trainload of new people - and I'm a little glad to get off at my own  station, where I'm picked up by my team and go home...tomorrow is a full day of teaching.