Many many many many many many thanks.

   Once a week I help in a first grade classroom listening to kids read their journal entries and typing them so they can have a typed book of writing at the end of the year.  Popular themes include listing friends:
   "I like James.  I like Krista. I like Tre.  I like Khang...."
Talking about recess:
    "At recess I was looking for a friend when I found a rock.  I banged the rock against the wall.
     Before it was sparkly but then it broke and it was really sparkly.  I asked the teacher if I could take it
     home and she said no."
And exclaiming things:
    "I am really really really really really excited to play my WiiU"
     "I very very very very want a bike for Christmas."
     "I am so excited.  I am so so so excited. yes Yes YES! I am excited."


This last theme brings me to the real point of this blog entry.  I had to explain how I must express the depth of my gratitude: I am very very very very very grateful to my wonderful friends and family who donated to JRS for my birthday. yes Yes YES! I am thankful, so thankful, so so so thankful.

My last entry I talked a little about how Sudanese and Somali education at JRS has evolved. Now I want to dream more about where it could go with a little birthday/Christmas money. To give you amazing people who donated an idea of what could be...

After I left Jordan, JRS hired the Sudanese community leader onto their staff. The education project now is made entirely of 30 volunteer teachers, but with growth, the project could look into hiring more teachers and staff from local population.

One of the strong assets the Sudanese and Somalis in Jordan have is their very strong sense of community.  However, with no meeting space bigger than someones small home, it's difficult to have planning or social events.  JRS is a free space, but there are still costs of transportation and food.  Being able to have a meeting or a celebration is an important line on JRS's budget.

Home visits and rent assistance have for a long time been part of JRS's project to serve Iraqi refugees.  When I left, those things had not yet been extended to include the Sudanese and Somali communities.  Sudanese women voiced during discussion groups how little they felt supported by NGO's when they felt Iraqis got so much.  It wasn't so bad all the time, but in the winter it gets very cold.  Heat is expensive, as are clothes, coats, and blankets for the kids.  Alleviating some of this burden would be true service and an amazing way to open minds up for better learning (either kids at school or adults in the education project).  Can you imagine the gift of letting a mother not have to worry if her child will be cold at night?

Finally, most dear to my heart, I know that JRS can do better and expand its "informal" education project.  Working in a school, I know what doors can be opened with a few extra dollars.  It means a whole new set of books, new technology, school supplies, a teacher training manual, a warmer building, transportation to and from school.  Oh the list goes on of things I would love to see those students have.  Typing/computer classes, vocational training, access to JRS's higher education project (which requires mastering English).  All of these things could take  "informal" and turn it into "abnormal" Abnormally offering a depth and breadth of education to those who would otherwise have no opportunity to learn.

So, thank you.  Thank you! Thanks!! thanks you thank thank thank you.  very very very very very very very very much.  I am so so so so so so happy, oh yes, so happy about the support my friends and family gave to this project for me and for my friends/students in Jordan. It was absolutely the best birthday gift I've ever received... and it'll be the best Christmas present too!

What happens in a year

    A year ago, I sat on the floor.  The sole teaching tool, a whiteboard, hung on the wall. Fourteen or so men and boys gathered around me; this was my class.  I don't remember what we learned about that day, if it was simple verbs or nouns.  I'm sure we asked "What did you do today?" because we always did, and I'm sure the answers were "I worked" or "I went to the store" because they always were.  My students were attentive, dedicated, and positive. As I was putting on my shoes to leave, a resounding chorus of "Happy Birthday"  echoed around their home.  My co-teachers had taught them, and they sang with grins, a group that I have no doubt wanted not just my birthday, but me, to be truly happy.
    With so much stuff in this world, society often tells us to feel sorry for those who have less than we do.  However, when we focus on what a population does not have, we often forget how much they can offer us.  From the refugee students I taught in Jordan, I learned how to best wish someone a happy birthday. I learned gratitude, a healthy pride, and how to accept help. I learned a profound ability to take care of each other. I learned community, drive, and dreams.  While materially my students had less than many, in my eyes, they also had much more.  I believe the first step toward social justice, or one of them anyway, is when all people recognize this.  When people know the beauty of their own culture and the depth of their own intelligence.  I run into so many kids who are taught they are trouble, taught they are stupid, taught they are behind, taught to fail.  This is what drives inequality. Stopping this will end hunger more than a food pantry ever could.
   So this year, for my birthday, I'm not asking friends or family to give a handout. Of course, I want kids to have coats and the hungry to have food. But my focus right  now, is that my former students and friends in Jordan get a good education.  My priority is that they learn so they can express their already valuable opinions.  I want them to attain their goals so that they can see as I do the great impact they have on the world.   In the past year, classes have moved out of the house, and are now taught in a school.  There are more people, women, and children, of a wide range of age and ethnicity. They  have chalkboards, photocopied textbooks, and other simple supplies.  The dreams I have for this project in another year? Endless. For a truly happy birthday, merry Christmas, or just being a good citizen, if you haven't, think about donating a small amount to the cause.  If you have, good for you.  You are one step toward living in a better world.  Trust me, these people know how to make it.
    

anomaly: a deviation from the norm; irregularity

      The past six months I have been working at an elementary school in Madison, WI that has been labeled by test results as "high need."  Indeed, the students and families I work with are faced with a variety of issues I never dreamed of when I was a kid.  Many students face challenges of poverty including homelessness, transience, hunger, illness, racial tension, drug abuse, physical and emotional abuse, and long histories of economic failure and instability.   My job at this school is "family, school, community partnerships" which is another way to say beat my head against a wall. As much as everyone really does want these kids to succeed, teachers are already overburdened with new, required pedagogy and parents are struggling to maintain multiple jobs and figure out how to pay the months' rent.  So many parents just don't have time to go to parenting workshops and they don't check their kid's backpack to find the fliers about them. With truancy another issue, it's hard enough to get kids to school, let alone their parents.  Despite my frustration seeing all of this, I have hope for this community.  Because of its No Child Left Behind status, the school gets lots of extra Title 1 funding for school programming. We frequently get community grants and businesses wanting to donate to the school, and there is a dedicated staff that truly cares, not just about the students now, but for their families and futures too.

      It's difficult for me not to compare this scenario to where I was this time last year.  Last November some friends and I had just started in-home English classes for Sudanese refugees in Jordan.  Like parents at my school in Madison, this community was worried about rent, putting food on the table, and racial injustice.  They similarly had to work many jobs, though theirs provided undoubtedly a more unpredictable income. They had a difficult past following them- war, genocide, running, hiding, and being social and political outliers.  This is where some of the striking differences come in between my situation now, dealing with American citizens.  School officials aren't checking up on Sudanese kids to make sure they are in attendance.  No one is reaching out to provide adult education or give food or rent assistance.  No one is donating free coats, gloves, or hats.  No free community dinners, family game nights, school carnivals.  By being in the U.S., families in Madison, WI, though still facing hard times, have a great deal more than what is available to Sudanese in Jordan.  

    I do not mean to start a race to the bottom comparison of need, but rather to argue that the hope and drive of the individuals I met in Jordan is unmatched by anyone I have met before or since.  All over the world, poverty strikes individuals in a variety of ways, all of them unjust, all of them "the worst case" for those affected. But when I met the Sudanese community in Amman, I was struck with the hope and happiness they maintained.  With their dedication, persistence, and patience, we were able to expand English classes to a new building.  Despite the cost of transportation, we had over 100 students every week crowd into one room (a class of 20+ in each corner).  We asked people to arrive on time, though we understood it was difficult to get to class after a 12 hour day of physical labor. And of course, we excused the absence for the student whose uncle back in Sudan was brutally killed.  Through all of this, along with worries that going to and from the building could be ground for police investigation leading to arrest, our students showed up eager to learn and participate.  Their teachers untrained professionals, they never showed us anything other than complete respect and friendship.  I have heard words out of kindergartners in Madison that I don't think my Sudanese students would dare utter in any language under their breath, let alone out loud to a teacher.  With minimal resources, no books, and the stress of life, these students came passionately to learn.  Why?  They want to go back to Sudan and help.  Their dream: education.  Their goals: make their country a better place. Give their children a better life. Help people.

     This Christmas, I am asking friends and family to donate to Jesuit Refugee Services specifically for this project that is near and dear to my heart.  Go to https://www.jrs.net/donate#EN_3 and type in "For Sudanese and Somali education in Jordan" in the notes section of the donation.  Funds will go directly toward books, educational materials, teachers, and maybe even a fun event for the individuals who I have been writing about and so completely deserve it.    You can read more about JRS's different projects at jrsmena.org.  I will be writing all this month about this amazing group of individuals, sharing more memories from Jordan, and encouraging you to give a donation as an alternative gift this Christmas. Help my friends help people.  Give the gift of education, of language, of hope. 

    

what an eclectic blog post you wrote

Schnudie Wall and I reporting for duty.  I'm here with my BFFL from Morocco.  We lived through host mom washings, diets of pure Malawi, Pepto-Bismol pre-emptive strikes, Moroccan strep throat, and getting lost in the middle of the night in Spain (we never did make it to Buddha).  And now we're back, better than ever, and conquering our second #MENA adventure- JORDAN!  and Palestine.  and.. the other country who shall not be named. We'd like to give our readership (@Kathryn, @Sara) some of the highlights of our highlighted trip.

Soon after Erin arrived in Jordan, we hugged.  It was great.  It had been wayyy too long. #DustinandAndrewyoumissedoutonthisone  Shortly thereafter re. the next day, we spent entirely separate- I worked holding interviews for a super neat new project at JRS (jrsmena.org) and Erin visited Jordan's National Art Gallery while mastering Amman's elaborate public transportation system composed entirely of weird yellow cars that make loud honking noises and flash their brights all the time.  We reunited from our day apart for a dinner of delicious Yemeni cuisine.

After Yemeni and sleep, we took off for Al Quds.  For those of you who dont know, that's the Arabic name for Jerusalem. As foreshadowing to the tone of our trip, we met overly talkative, a little too friendly and hospitable Arab brothers #recurringtheme.  We made it to our hostel, got excited about a discount map, ate some bagels, and failing at using said map with coupons, stumbled upon a tiny bar where Elad gave us Araq, a great view of his tiny mustache, and a number to call if we wanted to hang in Tel Aviv.

After a restful/less night of sleep in Abraham hostel we got da hook up and toured the Kenesset (Israel's parliament).  Talk about freaking cool things that we do.  We met Sheik Ibrahim Sarsour, one of twelve Arab members of Parliament.  We discussed Israeli/Palestinian and Arab issues.  Get with the program America, it's time for international pressure to create change.

On a struggle up the Mount of Olives, a nice shop owner offered us a ride, which our tired calves gladly accepted.  We saw the Garden of Gethsemane, the Jewish cemetery, a French church with the Lord's Prayer translated into all the languages, and an amazing view.  After not actually hiking up the mount- we were dead tired and went straight to bed.

Waking up the next day led us on a guided tour of the old city of Jerusalem.  and then neither of us can remember what we did after that.  But agree that the night ended with a hostel pub crawl, two Persian Jews (which is THE thing to be in L.A.), three Dutch doctors, a British Moroccan, and two Germans who loved their lives!! We discussed deep matters over the course of the evening and ended it all with egg/hummus/onion/pita/grilled/fried maybe deliciousness. So good, Erin saved half of it in her purse with some jam stuck on her camera for breakfast the next morning.

After seeing Bethlehem and the wailing wall, we headed to the beaches of Tel Aviv. We lied on the beach.  We lied there some more.  We got up to get food.  Then we lied back down.  Erin lied so much, she got burned! We continued this for the next two days.  We only took one break from lying on the beach to go to the much hyped Tel Aviv club scene.  In our best fashion, i.e. gym shorts to prevent sunburn chafing, we hit up an unknown club approx. four miles from our hostel.  Better ideas have never been had.

Our last bit of the trip was in the serene Baha'i gardens in Haifa.  They were green.  Erin nursed her sunburn while I listened to four middle age British women swear off husbands, trips to Ecuador, and anyone who wouldn't cook for them.

Upon our return to Amman, we did more great stuff. Erin's now whining that she has to go to bed so this will just be an overview.  We got Erin a job teaching English to kiddies, went posh at the Dead Sea Movenpick, explored Madaba, Mt. Nebo, Ajloun, and Jerash where we met two more delightful brothers.  We ate hummus, hummus, dates, and hummus.  Went dancing, chillin, chattin, and spotted textual errors including a Snoopy T-shirt with the caption "Waolo Famdus Deagle!!" as well as a museum exhibit of "Jugs- Bombs?" Good thing Erin's coming to teach English. I just know she'll use the Waolo Famdus Deagle in her lessons.

And that was all.. a very very small part of our trip. But sleepy McGee over here has to get some sleep before a long flight tomorrow, a big decision (sign that contract!!), and a return to some mini Apple homies. (shout out to the roommates I've never met but will!) (maybe even the cat that I could potentially be indifferent too!)   Keepin' it real from the Middle East. #thatsallfolks.

I asked for it...

    Yesterday, I was running, as I do on the occasion that I feel inclined to care about my cardiovascular health, and two little snot nose kids decided it was going to be fun to turn around and give me a nice tap of encouragement.. on the ass. I screamed profanities at them, they ran away. I mean, I understand this was probably my fault.  After all, I am a woman, I was wearing short sleeves, out in public, in broad daylight.  Obviously, I was asking for male attention.
     Twice now, I've come home from runs to be approached by a young man who just wants to chat.  He really wants to ask me about my life, give me a rose, ring my doorbell five times.  I know I'm being rude when I say "Please leave, you should not be here. No, we cannot be friends."  I'm probably leading him on, too, after all, I keep leaving and entering my apartment, which is kind of like an invitation to talk to me. I just can't seem to get anything right.
     There was a girl from Lawrence who recently wrote an article talking about how feminism doesn't relate to her life at all. Lucky her.
    Today, my friend and fellow Fulbrighter Zayn came to my university and taught my classes.  Zayn's Fulbright project has among other things, been starting debate teams at different high schools in Jordan and organizing debate tournaments and championships between them.  Zayn won the national debate championships in 2010 (aka he is America's best debater).  Formal debate is quite new to Jordan schools- before this year critical thinking was not a part of the curriculum. So for many of my students, today was the first time they formally distinguished argument from opinion, and outlined the need to accompany their claims with evidence and reasons their audience should care.  In the first two classes, we debated whether or not boys and girls should study together (remember, in Jordan, high schools are gender segregated).  In the third class, we debated whether or not there should be a gender quota in Jordan's parliament (there is a quota ensuring a minimum of 15 seats go to women).  And in the fourth class, after informing students that Jordan did, in fact, have a parliament, we debated whether or not I should fail the entire class.
    I was proud of my students, they all agreed to debate the side they were assigned, but in informal discussion, it was really hard for me to hear claims that I absolutely do not agree with, supported by poor evidence and little critical thinking.  Commonly accepted ideas about boys and girls at Al al-Bayt:
1. Boys act based more on thoughts, girls act based more on feelings.
2. In high school, boys and girls are too immature and will not know how to act appropriately toward each other.  This goes away in college when they are both more mature. (though no one could answer my question of when the "mature" switch turns on)
3. It is inappropriate for boys and girls to interact with each other in most settings.
4. Girls are shy, and so should not have to learn in classrooms with boys.
5. Boys are easily distracted and will not be able to concentrate if girls are around.

Not everyone felt this way, but in general, no one really brought up the fact that boys and girls in my classes rarely talk to each other and sit on opposite sides of the room.  Men and women on the bus refuse to sit next to each other. And, oh yeah, guys touch my butt when I run, call out "hellooo Russia" (referring to prostitutes) when I walk by, or try to get my number when I'm shopping in Safeway or heading into my apartment.  If the argument is that boys and girls don't know how to deal with each other when they are young, keeping them totally separate just doesn't seem to be working. They don't seem to be growing out of anything.  Or, maybe it's me.  Maybe as a foreigner, with my ideas about showing my forearms in public, and thinking that men and women aren't so different, that we should all learn from the very beginning to respect and deal with each other- I'm just asking for problems.

In other news, one of my students from China informed me today that he drove a backhoe in China for two years and his dream is to get a job doing this in the U.S.  He hopes to make at least... $200 a month.. or a week. This stuff never gets old. Until fourth period.. then it gets old pretty fast.

I have something to say

http://ideas.time.com/2012/03/28/where-are-the-protests-against-the-killing-of-shaima-al-awadi/?iid=op-article-mostpop1

      I read this article tonight after a day of meeting and dining with the international director of Jesuit Refugee Services and the Jordan JRS core team staff who were nice enough to invite me to participate in their meet and greet with this very interesting and passionate overseer of the bigger picture of this global organization.  For those of you who don't want to read the whole (short) article, it's about the murder of Shaima Al Awadi, the Iraqi woman who was killed in her home in El Cajon, CA.  I have been reading a lot about this tragic story lately, feeling outraged at the "blame the victim" language that asked why this mother of five didn't call the police when she received a first threatening note.  I strongly nod in agreement as this article asks that all racial profiling deserves to be called as it is-ignorance and fear- and must be furiously combated.
      While reading, I think of my many Iraqi students and coworkers with JRS, who dream of going to the U.S. where they can once again be eligible to have livelihoods.  I think about my former student and friend who has just been resettled and pray that he and his family remain safe and free from abuse.  I think about the unjust war that created chaos impossible to "go home" too, as the note next to Ms. Awadi so horrifically ordered.  The stories that I've heard from my friends and colleagues and the fear and feeling with which they tell them, I know that Iraq, a country plagued by lasting wars is no longer a place that resembles "home," with a constant threat of bribes, bombings, kidnappings, and murder  While I don't feel like it is my place, at least not in the context of this blog, to retell any of these specific stories, I would like to use a bit of the general information I've heard to advocate for these people.  People who, hopefully, will continue to be resettled in a country with open arms and hearts;  a country that recognizes hate crimes and villainizes those who commit them, demanding justice for all genders, colors of skin, religious identity, and for God's sake clothing choices.
With that said, a few common themes from Iraqi voices:
-Iraq is chaos.  You want people to go back? HA.  Maybe in three, four generations.  You would be crazy to go back now.  Never in this lifetime.  Never.
-Money and corruption is rampant.  Oil and the west has poured unfathomable amounts of money that is being folded nicely into the pockets of a small portion of businessmen and politicians.  Money comes for a new bridge, a third of the bridge is built (poorly) and the rest of the funding for this project mysteriously disappears leaving a nice structure that severely lacks to serve its main purpose of getting people across water.
-Violence is real.  Threats are real. Kidnapping is real.
-Many people helped the American army.  Many people served as translators, cultural advisors, worked in offices.  Even in war Iraqis were a hospitable people.
-Once upon a time, Iraq was a great place.  Christians and Muslims lived in peace.  People were highly educated and successful.  People love to laugh and joke and eat.  The food remains delicious.  No one should forget this vision of "true" Iraq and what it means to be Iraqi.  They are highly qualified and good at getting along.
-There is no hope here in Jordan.  Without work, life is routine.  Nothing is new, nothing happens, there is little to do but wait.  Learn English to go to America.  Learn computer skills to make yourself marketable... in America once you're there. There is family in the states.  There are opportunities awaiting.  Waiting for a year, two, five, ten?  Never know when the UN could ring you up.  You just have to wait.  A constant state of liminality waiting for...

So waiting for what?  Please, America, do something while I'm gone.  Iraqis did me a favor by loving me and accepting me into their school and their lives.  Return the favor. Let's call a spade a spade and a hate crime a hate crime. Let's all own our responsibility.  We are responsible for the war in Iraq, and we are, in part, responsible for the murder of Shaima Al Awadi.  As long as society tolerates in any form attacks based on identity,  from murder to bigoted language to employment discrimination, we are responsible.  I think we could learn a thing or two from Arab hospitality.

back 2 school

For some reason the creators of "blogspot" think I'm really in to Christianity, all the blogs  the "next blog" button takes me to  are hard core testimonies.  proof I love Jesus, I guess.

     On that note, I had a divinely inspired lesson plan the other day that proved to be a great success.  While I still don't like it really, I must say I am getting the hang of this teaching business.  Anyway, when Mia was here she brought me a bundle of "Time For Kids" Magazines which had short and informative articles about a variety of topics (including how bats are becoming extinct from White Nose Syndrome where they basically grow mold on their face that then suffocates them. NAST)  So I gave each couple of students a magazine and they had to summarize the cover article for the class, tell whether or not it was relevant to their life, and pose two discussion questions. One of the articles was about gender segregated schools and their rising popularity in the U.S. i.e. one school for boys and one for girls which is the way of all public schools in Jordan, only some private schools are mixed.  So the obvious discussion question was, do you think boys and girls in school should be mixed or separate and why?  In my second class, one of the smartest girls in my class one of the best english speakers raised her hand and said, "well I read in an article that boys are actually genetically smarter than girls, so i think they should be separate so the boys can learn more."  Now, up until this point i was trying to stay out of the discussion. I generally do because a. I want them to be speaking, not me and b. teaching English is enough imperialism without all of my vastly different cultural views.  However, while my feminist self has certainly become more tolerant of dissenting viewpoints while living in the Middle East, at this point I just flat out told her, "No. That is not true."  She responded with "but, I read it."  I did not have time to go into a "you can't believe everything you read" lecture so I just said, "I can show you a million articles that say the opposite."  And class was over.  
     In my last period, the same article, the entire class insisted that all schools should be segregated because the other gender is an unnecessary distraction. One student went as far as to say colleges should also be separated by gender. Because they all agreed, I played the devil's advocate and asked what would happen when they had to work together as employees, to which I was told "people can make the choice of where to work based on where they are comfortable."  Which I roughly translated as, "women should hold "feminine" professions like teacher and mother while men can have "male appropriate" positions and they still won't really talk to each other except for the floozies."  This was a test, I knew it, and I swear to God if anyone ever calls me an imperialist for spreading "western" feminism, I will tell this story and how I kept every opinion about gender roles and oppression to myself.  One student did specifically ask me what I thought, and I replied I think boys and girls should be together always so people can get along better, that diversity is always better than sameness whether it be gender or ethnicity or anything.

     Another article was about whether or not schools in America were loading kids down with too much homework.  This was laughable to me when one of my Malaysian students started talking about how she went to school in China and how much homework she had, 9 pages of math problems every night and reading and etc etc.  Then of course, she said, "I liked it- it helped me not to waste time."  and I just imagined all the TV that would be watched if American kids had less homework. 
   A different class posed  the question. "does homework help students do well on tests?"  One student replied, "well no it doesn't because all the students will just copy it from one student"  So, of course I said, "well, that's cheating..  what about the student who actually DOES the homework, will it help him on the test?" To which the kid replied, "No, because he will just copy it off the internet."  I told him that was cheating and my entire class agreed, "No, that's just being smart."  Despite my patience earlier, at this point, I lost my temper just a bit and jumped up and down yelling  "NO THAT IS CHEATING!!!"  Then some kid had the guts to pull the "Well, in our culture..."  Unfortunately, it doesn't matter what country you are in, copying someone else's idea and not giving them credit for it, is cheating.  End of discussion.  I may have kind of yelled that part too.


Stay tuned, I am going to try and write a bit more about the last few days in the next few days.