Christmas with Iraqis, Jesuits, and Usher.

There are some stories that are just too hilarious to be true, but too ridiculous to be made up, and the JRS end of year celebration was one of them.  Held in a church basement, complete with snowflake and reindeer decorated stage, the program went as follows:
1. Picture slideshow of the year at JRS.  While pictures faded in and out of the screen, the first song that played in the background was some country song about living large.  The second, completely unexpected and random song that play was "Rebellion" by the Arcade Fire.  Interesting choice for a slideshow of memories...
2. The screen and stage curtain lifted to reveal the Kindergarten class all dressed in little Santa outfits.  They had a dance/handbell performance that would have made the CUMC bell choir proud.  During this performance I tried to think what it would take to get me to trade places with the teacher who had to teach Kindergartners with bells for a month.  What, exactly is my hearing and sanity worth to me?  They performed the Arabic version of "Jingle Bells"  Which translates instead to "Christmas Eve"  and is sung by a sing songy man with obnoxious back up. This was an adorable and hilarious performance, all the parents knew it, and as such there was a throng of people video recording the entire thing (Jordanians LOVE camera phones).  Unfortunately, because of their clamoring fans, no one could actually see the Kindergartners performance, so of course, they had to do it again.  They then went into a screaming rendition of "We Wish you a Merry Christmas" and filed off stage after a final bow.
3.  We then heard two Arabic poems written by boys from the middle school class.  The first was about our homeland (aka Iraq) and went something like, "our homeland is the best.  our homeland is the most beautiful.  It is the best place in the world.  We love our homeland so much.  It is amazing."  The second poem was almost identical but instead of "homeland" the poet said "Jordan."
4.  An interesting thing happened next, the woman sitting next to my co-teacher, Richard, and I leaned over and asked if we would drank coffee.  She then proceeded in a very Mary Poppins, Hermione Granger like manner to pull a full pot of coffee and two small cups out of her purse.
5. Coffee time was accompanied by a series of musical performances.  We had a piano solo of Jingle Bells.  The notes were the Jingle Bell notes anyway- rhythm and counting was really non-existent.  At one point the audience tried to clap along.  But couldn't get on the beat.. because there wasn't one.  After that we had a popular song from Iraq, also on piano, an improv guitar duet, and a soloist sing an old Umm Kulthum favorite which was rudely interrupted by an unruly group of shebab.
6. My student then gave a speech in English!  so proud!!
7.  Now we get to the highlight of the show, and quite possibly my life up until this point.  A dance performance.  Break dancing to be exact.  A boy from the kindergarten class breakdances to Usher's "Oh My God" while another girl from the kindergarten class hula -hoops (for the ENTIRE four minute song) around the stage.  Completely inappropriate, this boy points to the hip swinging hula hooper as Usher sings "Baby let me love you down..." And the crowd went wild.  The next set of only slightly older boys also does a break dance performance to the Black Eyed Peas "Boom Boom Pow."  Again, totally unphased by horrendous lyrics, the crowd hooted and hollered for these talented ten year olds.
8.  The night ended with a shocking co-ed dance party of sorts.  And, naturally, a photo shoot with everyone's camera phone, and people bringing me plates of food they had brought from home.  In hindsight, this was probably the best part of my Christmas season (the actual day was pretty depressing- this all happened about a week before).  I do feel like I have a home, and a family at JRS, and I'm just glad that break dancing is now in my bloodline.

Leaders of Tomorrow, Yesterday

Yesterday was the workshop I have been helping to organize for the NGO I volunteer with, Leaders of Tomorrow. We partnered with the Netherlands Institute in Amman to host two scholars who spoke about intercultural business practices and social media.  When we started planning the event, we expected it to be about 20 people or so, in a small, interactive type workshop.  After posting the opportunity once on the Leaders website (leadersot.org- woo check it out!) we got over 90 responses and ended up having a total of 50 participants! People were engaged and asked great questions, as one of the speakers put it afterwards "If you wanted to give me a good impression of Jordanians, you have certainly done it."  The spokeswoman for LoT told us Jordanians are an interested and well educated people, but they don't have enough opportunities to express their interests and ideas.  This was certainly a great example of people eager to stretch their minds.
  The speakers covered a number of aspects of the issues at hand including social media in business practices, workplace rewards based on culture, workplace mobility based on culture, appropriateness and usefulness of social media in marketing and hr.  To me, three points especially stood out as new and interesting information (though it was all good!)
1. The majority of the world's market are being ignored.  The "developed" world is a minority of people on this planet.  And yet, they are the majority of the ones that are truly being marketed to.  A lot of under-developed countries have been written off by all kinds of businesses as "too poor" to sell to.  However, if companies would simply lower their profit margins on individual sales the mass of consumers they would gain in these countries would be huge.  Poor people may not have a lot of money, but they are certainly still consumers!  Cell phone companies were given as an example of a company that understood this.  Everyone in Jordan has a cell phone.  My Sudanese refugee students all have cell phones.  People in Jordan don't have a lot, but they are not dragging through the streets.  They can still buy things, and they do buy cell phones, which is possible because they are much much cheaper here than in the states.  Entrepreneurs in these countries have a comparative advantage in that they know that their fellow citizens can still spend money.  The thing I thought about most during this part of the talk was infectious disease.  Where is this idea more true? Pharmaceutical companies have made drugs so expensive they can only be sold in the west, but where is the majority of populations with HIV/AIDS, TB, etc.  Certainly not in the west.  If these companies would cut profit margins they could do good and make money so why not?  Because they have no idea what it is like in "developing countries," they don't understand that people still buy things. duh.
2. People will do things for free.  I know this one sounds nuts, but these lecturers made a good point.  If someone told you, I'm going to start a website to give people information, and I want everyone to use my website for everything, and I will just get people to post things about stuff that they know.  And then some people will monitor the stuff and make sure it's true.  And I will not pay them, they will just do it because they are interested.  Do you think, that's crazy?  That's wikipedia! and Yahoo answers, and a million other ways of getting information online. The lecturer made the point that very few people actually work just for money.  He asked a woman in the audience "why do you work?" and her response, of course was, "to get paid."  Then he asked her, "where do you work?" and she said, "PR because she liked to talk with people and meet new, interesting professionals."  So this was the reason she worked.  Because it was interesting to her, because she was motivated by her profession.  The point here was not that every job has to be interesting to the worker, but people must have some motivation to do their job outside of money, whether it be from good management, or interest, or a sense of accomplishment.  If you can sell something as interesting to a person, you can get them to work without a physical exchange of capital.  I like taking the money out of business- it makes the whole thing much more appealing to me.
3. If you want to know what someone wants, just ask! This one I learned a long time ago at Sierra Service Project, but I thought it was funny for business people to be saying it like it was this brand new idea.  In a different context, it does sound sort of revolutionary.  The idea was presented as, wow, if you ask consumers, they will tell you what they want!  If you want to know a culture, just ask the people of that culture!  no shit.  (pardon my French) Service lesson 101 says that the first step of service is to ask.  If  you go into anywhere saying, "I know what you need" whether you are trying to donate or sell your services you are going to get a nice kick on the way out of your very unsuccessful attempt to get anything done. 

So that was the workshop.  Good times. 
To follow, a few notes about blogging: I have no idea who reads this, which is fine, but if anyone ever reads anything you want to comment on, please do!  If you don't or can't post your comments because you don't have an account, I would love e-mails at jencompton@gmail.com.  It doesnt have to be about anything I write about but I would like to be more in contact with people from the motherland (and anywhere).

Also, after re-reading some of my blog posts I learned I need to be a more careful proof reader.  I apologize for my lack of attention to these details and hope it doesn't bother any of my avid readers. In other words, Mom, sorry I'm a dummy and don't proof my blog.

When you blow out the candles one light stays aglow, it's the love light in your eyes where'er you go.

Birthday day started like any other, Wednesday, but this time I went to school with a cake pan full of birthday treats.  My English 99 class were the first recipients, and added candles to the festivities.  Of course, they asked how old I was, so I told them I was somewhere between 20 and 30, so my cookie got three candles.  I wasn't exactly sure when to blow them out, as no one really knows the "Happy Birthday" song it kind of died after the first two "Happy Birthday to you's."  But I made my wish, and was proudly presented with a stuffed animal cat (of which I sadly do not have a picure) who we named Lota and is our new class pet.

The other class that knew it was my birthday also had surprises in store.  One of my students who is very good at English, always talks about how his family has pizza nights, and he brought in homemade pizzas for the class.  We also had decorations, and a latecomer who added a fabulous and tasty cake to the operation.  

Every year since we were born, my dad has taken a picture of my sister and I on or around our birthdays in this (hideous) burnt orange chair that we will keep forever if for nothing else but this purpose.  Not to let the distance from the actual chair stop this tradition, I made due with a slightly different shade of coral.  It might mess up the album a little, but as my dad said, it was going to be a huge hassle to take the chair with them when my parents come to visit in February.

In the evening, Fulbright friends came over for dinner and dessert.  The menu was a delicious spinach, fruit, walnut salad (fresh greens, what!), a bulgur tomato dish, and random leftovers from our fridge.  yum.  Dessert was by far the best part, those most dedicated to my birthday happiness (and who didn't have to work) made a carrot cake with maple cream cheese frosting! Of all the deserts I've had in the Middle East, this one took the cake.  heh.

From there, we went to Champions (same chain as in the good ol' USA) which is in the Marriot hotel and beautifully decorated for Christmas.  Things got about as wild as you see in the picure below, which was perfect.  With truly touching wishes from friends here and abroad, my birthday was special, and lived up to the build-up of birthday week.

Continuing on, this week will be a busy start to my next year of life.  I have been helping to organize a conference with Leaders of Tomorrow, that has over one hundred registered participants!  This is a very healthy sign for the organization and an amazing turnout for what was originially planned as a small affair for 20-25 people. It is nice to feel a part of such an active community. On Wednesday, my English 1 classes will begin oral presentations for their participation grade.  That should provide plenty to blog about.  Wednesday evening I will also have my first lesson with the Somali refugees.  It's nice to be busy, needing things to get me out of the house as the weather continues to deteriorate into the winter that I am oh-so dreading.  I am also looking forward to a break, though, and hoping to stay in touch this holiday season with all of the loved ones that have made the days after my birth so worth living.

"long distance"

So I have blogged about just about everything in my life in Jordan. My house, my jobs, my frustrations, my friends, my co-workers, my sister, my tutor, my bank.  But I have yet to say anything about probably the biggest part of my life, Max. When I asked my boyfriend what I should blog about the other day, he said, "me!" And my strongly feminist, highly independent self only slightly began to consider it.  Max will be the first one to tell you how hard it would be for me to admit any sort of dependence on anyone, most of all a boy; but the truth is, the person who gets me through long days in Mafraq, lonely mornings in a cold apartment, and late nights falling asleep to skype and picture slideshow, is him.  Now, there is a time and place for everything, and I don't mean for this to be a post publicly confessing my unyielding love for this amazing person in my life (another time, pal, not now :), but I do think it is an important opportunity to reflect on a. international emotional support b. long distance relationships and c. gender relations in Jordan vs. the U.S.
a. I am not a great ex-pat. While I love my life here, I really can't see myself "moving" to Jordan. Visiting again? yes.  Staying here for another year sometime in the future? yes.  Staying here for two years? maybe.  Living here and raising children and having a fulltime job indefinitely? not so much.  Now, I'm not to say that won't ever change, but for now, I am happy to think that in seven months I will be heading back to the states to celebrate my country's independence day in red, white and blue.  And I know a lot of the Fulbrighters feel the same way, and a lot of peace corps volunteers feel the same way and a lot of Jordanians feel the same way.  Because the truth is, the living here ain't easy and it's not easy anywhere to be a foreigner.  To be out of one's own element and even if only subconsciously, even if only in your own mind, to be labeled as "outsider."  So I love Jordan, but the need to sort out the things in my head, the need to make someone who knows me understand the feelings I have about differences, goes far past my ability to blog or journal.  In whatever form it takes, my experience here has made me realize just how much we need intimate human interaction and understanding.  When I feel like Arabic and English are both failing me, I have my international support network to translate "Jennifer-icsh" into something that makes me appreciate my happiness and my struggles living abroad. Max is not the only translator I have, but he is a darn good one and often works double shifts.
b.  Long distance relationships suck. It sucks to not be with the person you care about and want to be with the most.  That sucks.  Does it suck, you might ask? Why yes, it does. But, the choice to make someone a part of your life when it creates so much suck-iness, is a powerful one; and far from emotionally separating two people, I do think it gives an opportunity to bring them closer together.  Not physically, obviously (begrudgingly) but in a way that demands more trust, more communication, and more frequent and outward expressions of love. This is a huge part of my life here.  Not because I am attached to things from home or because I am not being present in Jordan, but because with love the world becomes a smaller place and my American and Fulbright Jordanian parts are not mutually exclusive.  Long distance does not make me less here and it does not make me feel any less.  Instead, it grows my heart's space in the world.  I'm like the Grinch when he decides to give back Christmas. Just like when his heart grows from three sizes too small to maybe six sizes bigger, my heart has grown big enough to span multiple continents.  (coincidentally, the Grinch and I both also love a person or dog named Max)
c.  Ghada, my tutor, explained dating here and it sounded very complicated.  In some families, you have to pretend not to know the person and then convince your dad he wants you to marry him. In other families, all the women in the family have to go check out a girl before she is presented to the son.  More liberal situations, boys and girls are aloud to be seen together but touching is not aloud until they are engaged, after which they can do pretty much everything but have sex.  Now, horomones being what they are, this hardly stops Jordanian youth from getting frisky, so to speak. People are sneaking off into bushes and forests, parking in cars, finding foreign women to harass.  Just today, Jomana said she caught two students making out in a forgotten hallway! In my classes, boys and girls most often sit apart, girls and women in my Iraqi classes are much more timid in front of men, and in general gender relations just seem.. tricky.  Frequently, I think how glad I am to have been able to go on dates. To be able to hold hands in public, even occasionally kiss!  To be open with Max, to know that he respects me, supports me, and views me completely as an equal.  This is a cultural liberty that I dont think I always appreciate.  There are certainly limiting features of American culture to both men and women.  And there are good people that respect others regardless of gender in Jordan and America.  But the freedom to act together as a couple, to express a relationship openly, is one that I recognize much more not having it.  I cannot imagine being in a relationship I felt I had to hide (I hope you realize the parallels here to homosexuality in America..) or one in which I felt I was not equally in control.  I cannot imagine having the choice to marry be the choice to not be an old maid social outcast instead of a choice of who to love and spend my life with.  Please, don't take these as blanket statements.  Things are changing.  There are very progressive, respectful, and respected men and women here in Jordan.  But in general, Max will still have to sit in the front seat of cabs when he comes to visit and me in the back.  I still will not hug him in public and I will not touch him at all if he comes to Mafraq with me.  But when we are back on American soil, you can bet that the second I get off that plane, the freedom I will most appreciate is the one to be welcomed back with a large public display of affection.

These are my thoughts.  If I can live with blogging about a boy.

"where to now" spoiler!

    On Tuesday, my Arabic tutor took me to see a recent film about the Lebanese civil war called, "Where to Now"  I didn't know much (re: anything) about the war in Lebanon from 1975-1990 but I learned from the film and reading afterward, it was a lot of fighting between Christians and Muslims.  The movie is about an isolated village that is on the cusp of fighting, but kept from violence by the women of the town who will do anything to keep the men from finding out about the religious war and politics in the rest of the country.  The film is not perfect, the women humorously use sex and drugs to distract the men who are ignorant and violent, obviously some not so valuable stereotypes being perpetuated here.  But overall, I thought it was a beautiful film that did well to communicate the important fact that women are disproportionately affected by conflict.  In the end, the women of the village all convert to the opposite religion.  The Christian women don the Hijab and a young Muslim man wakes up to his mother sprinkling holy water on him from a statue of the Virgin Mary.  "If you are going to fight the enemy, you will have to start with me."  A powerful image of what happens when we put ourselves in the shoes of the other.
    At one particularly sad point in the movie, my tutor and I were both audibly crying and sniffling.  This was probably the most powerful part of the film for me.  Here I was, a Christian sitting next to a Muslim woman, having the same response to seeing violence and death just in a movie theatre.  This whole year is about a cultural exchange, but no exchange was needed for us both to feel sadness about a mother burying her son.  No exchange was needed to share in laughter about women joking about their habits, their bodies, and the men in their lives.  I love learning the differences of Arabic culture, but I also love seeing how we are so much the same. This is what the movie was about, why do we fight when we are all people?  when we are all mothers, and children, and sons, and neighbors?  What cross or Quran is worth killing for? What deity would ask for this? 
    On a lighter but similar note, I had even more Jordanian female interaction (which is one of the end goals of my existance here).  My banker, who you perhaps remember from a blogpost of mine, finally invited me out to a cafe!!  I met her and two of her friends and our language exchange was a fast track to friendship.  Despite their "poor" English, which is actually quite good, we had plenty to talk about for multiple hours and had a lovely time drinking tea and eating brownie ice cream sundaes (another cultural universal).  My female friends are one of my most valuable treasures in life and I felt so lucky to be invited to spend time with these obviously loving and loyal young women.
   In my final note on women, we are hoping to start teaching in yet another house of refugees, this one, mostly women!  There is a small Somali refugee population in Jordan, and through our work with the Sudanese, they discovered us and came also to ask for English lessons.  I am really optimistic and hopeful about all of these projects, and enjoy conversations with the director of the program daydreaming how to expand them and make them sustainable.  Once again, let me know if you want to start a school...

I walked into my third period class today to see "THNK dr. JNFR -to:students please!?" written on the blackboard.  I was kind of confused at first, thinking maybe it was my students begging me to think, or a call for me to please, thank them?  I was happily mistaken though, when one student clarified, "Happy Eid" (holiday). The class before we had talked about Thanksgiving, and somehow the proper holiday greeting got a little confused in translation, but the sentiment was the same.  I awkwardly tried to avoid erasing the board to put up my own notes and settled just to erase the "dr." in the middle (little did my students know I was erasing the LIES that are my qualifications to be a university professor).
  I begin every class with a speaking warm-up and my question for the previous class had been, "what are you thankful for?"  From my secular cultured perspective, it amazed me how many students proudly declared they were most thankful for their religion, for the fact that they were Muslim, for Islam in general, thankful that God had given them a Muslim life, a moral life, etc. etc.  It is a rare occasion that one's personal faith comes up in a classroom setting in the states, but here it's quite normal. It's interesting how "religious freedom" in the U.S. means the freedom to keep your religion to yourself and never talk about it, while here I feel there is much more freedom to talk about faith and God... as long as you are Muslim.  (For more reasons than not, I was hardly tempted to declare that I was most thankful for Jesus this Thanksgiving) Other answers were more typical, friends and family, good health and opportunities to study and go to a university.  The more I get to know my students, the more I come to love them and view them as people.. as opposed to demons sent to judge my inability and insecurities as a teacher and claim they have "a test" so they can leave my class.  Today, my question was, "what is your favorite _____________, and why?"  One guy chose the category "people" and said "My favorite person is my mother, because she raised me well, she is my guide and my friend."  If that is not an answer to be thankful for, I dont know what is.
  I admitted this fact to my students today; that I liked them.  I promised that for those who came to class, I would make sure they got good marks on their final presentation grades.  I said I knew the faces of those who came to class and those who were strangers.  One of my favorite smart alec students asked, "Yeah but do you know our names?"  I admitted that I had absolutely no clue.  someday I will get this teaching thing down. Or I wont have to do it any more. THNK fr. STDNTS.  Please?!

Need a hospital from all the hospitality?

My Arabic tutor's name is Ghada.  She is a wonderful woman with a lot of patience for my poor memory and pronunciation.  She prods at me to "make my tongue lazy" and stop articulating vowels- apparently the key to speaking like a native Jordanian is to give up most everything tht makes Arabic at all understandable to me.  Anyway my last lesson we read some texts to help me with the language, and also provide a lesson in Arab culture.  One of the dialogues went something like this:
person A: "Come in for coffee!"
person B: "Oh no I really dont have time"
A: Sure you do, please come in come in.
B: No, I dont want to bother you.
A: You shame me, come in or I will die.
Person B enters the home of person A.
A: Have some cake, and cookies, and coffee, and tea.
B: Oh, no thank you, I'm really not hungry I just ate.
A: No, please.  Just eat a bite.  You must be a little bit hungry.
B: No, really.  Please, I really really don't want anything, I should be going soon..
A: eat.  And where are you going?  I will take you. Take the rest of these cookies, and this cake, and a thermos of coffee. 
B: No, I can walk, I just have to go down the street.
A: Absolutely not this is unacceptable. Get in  my car right now.

This is not an exaggeration; this is Arab hospitality.  Wonderfully stiffling, sometimes terrifying hospitality.  Ghada explained, "When we have a guest, we try to do everything we can for them and the guest tries to not be a bother so they want to have the least thing from the host."  Hospitality is a brutal battle of wills. I can't decide if this is the best or scariest thing about the culture here.  Sometimes both?

Give thanks, thanks giving, giving thanks, Thanksgiving!

Thanksgiving may still be a week away, but on my flight back to Amman, after a visit with my big sis, I had had such a nice trip that it seemed only appropriate to journal how grateful I was for all of it.  So to beat the holiday rush, here are some notes of thanks and a good overview of my time in Deutschland.

I am thankful for the most confident, talented, beautiful, intelligent, passionate sister, role model, guide, back scratcher, and friend that I have to swap stories and experiences with.  I  am thankful to both her and my parents, that while I may be the only one in the family who doesn't know the composer and opus number of each piece, I can appreciate and enjoy a concert by the Thomanerchor in the church where Bach once spent his Sundays and where his bones now lay at rest.  I am thankful that my sister made me go to the opera, helped me to understand what was going on, and nudged me when my eyes "blinked" for just a little too long. Cathy's enthusiasm for music is infectious (unlike her gout...) and I love hearing her talk about women almost lost in classical music but whose genius rivaled, if not surpassed, the male composers of their time.  I am thankful to have met my sister's host parents, teachers, and friends who showed me that she is as loved in Germany as she is by me and that she has the support that even such a strong woman needs to stay happy and sane.  I am thankful for Herr Reichart, who somehow, five years ago, prepared me for lunch in a German home, and hid some weird working knowledge of the German language in my brain in a place where it could be uncovered if needed to talk about toilet paper, the cost of beer, and teaching.  I am thankful I got to go to the German History Museum, that I have never been directly affected by the tragedy that occurs when racism and/or facism take hold of a people, and that remembering and knowing about these things makes me better equipped to combat them in the present.  I am thankful that I got to see just a touch of Christmas and advent (though a little bit early). It lit a spark of holiday cheer that I think can carry me through the next couple of months.

I am thankful for all of these things, and to have seen all of this, but I am also glad to be back in my own adventure.  One that challenges me and fascinates me in its own way.  I am thankful that it is still warm here, that trench coats are in, and that headscarves, quite stylish, keep your body heat from escaping out your ears. 

As I left my sister at a time when we would usually be getting together, it made me extremely grateful for the family that I have spent every Christmas and Thanksgiving with for the past 21/22 years.  They have provided the love, banana pudding, walks, roller blades, Andy Griffith episodes, peanut butter balls, nutmeg logs, music, trees, and everything else that brings in the holiday season and also the confidence and support to know that I can go out on my own.  I will dance around a make believe manger scene this year, with no worry of Cathy spying on me. But, I will do so with an even greater appreciation of her existence, of all of my family's existence and the joy of being with them during the holidays... or this year, just a little before or after.

books about sisters sell well

Sitting on a comfortable armchair, looking out across my mug I see my sister, a bustling clothing shop, a restaurant called "Curryfire," and a little bakery.  There is a light jazz playing, an aroma of all things brewed, and the constant chatter that is found in an American coffeehouse.  We could easily be in Ames, IA, Boulder, CO, or Appleton, WI but we're not, we are in Leipzig, Germany and the brandname coffee is about where the "Americanization" of this globalization ends.  My trip to visit Cathy has thus far served to remind me that everywhere is different; Amman is not unique in being unique.  Even though the fall weather and love of cheese and beer feel very Wisconsin and remind me of my good natured midwestern home, I am very much a stranger in a strange land.
   Language is my first my most obvious difficulty. In Amman I have a cushion of white-ness that is my  obvious excuse for being unable to communicate, what otherwise might be perceived as stupidity.  Here, I'm just someone who looks like everyone else but for some reason cannot understand even simple store interactions.  Thank you, four years of high school German, for miraculously enabling me to at least say, "Sprechen Sie English?"
    My culture shock is emphasized I think by the fact that things that are different here are different in the opposite way as they are in Jordan.  Time is a good example.  The Germans are very punctual and exact about time.  We had lunch with my sister's host family, which began exactly at one when we were asked to arrive. If a train is supposed to come at 11:16 you had better not be there at 11:17 or you will walking or waiting for the next one.  In Jordan, I'm not even sure if there are reliable train schedules to be found, and if you find think a train leaves at eleven it might start boarding at half past.  An invitation might have a time attached but the jury is still out on when you should actually arrive and whether to arrive hungry or full. There is a good chance an hour or two will pass before any eating actually occurs.  Marriage is another example of these opposite universes.  In Germany, marriage can be more of an after thought.  Couples live together for years, maybe have kids, and then if all's well, get married.  In Amman, if you're not married you're not worth a whole lot and if you have kids outside of wedlock I'm pretty sure they are not recognized by society.  Men and women interact in public in Germany!  I've seen more holding hands and kissing here in a few days than I think happens in all of Jordan over the course of a year.  And finally, I really can't get over the fact that not only can I sit on public toilets here, I can flush my toilet paper.  Oh the innovation!

But, as stranger as I am, I still fit right in with my sister, sitting in Starbucks, enjoying a small (re: tall) cup of chai.  So for anyone concerned that globalization is just "McDonalds" planting its corporate seeds across the globe, I would like to paint a happier picture.  Globalization is the opportunity that I have to see so many different places and learn so much about such distinct cultures. There is no confusion that even in Starbucks, I am in Germany, and Germans are not Americans even if they spend their Euros here. But globalization does mean that I can learn that if I am meeting someone for coffee at 11 in Germany I would show up at 10:59.  In Amman, I would wait for a call to reschedule and then show up a half hour later.  And in the states, I would show up at 11:15 because I am always late to everything and somehow I feel like it's ok when I dont have other cultural deficiencies to apologize for.  I know that corporations and globalization are far from perfect or even harmless entities.  But I don't think they threaten the fact that cultures will maintain their differences, their intrigue, and their crazy. Just like my sister. Colorado, Leipzig, or I'm sure Amman, she will always walk down the street singing and make up obnoxious songs like, "there's nothing quite like going to Starbucks..." Culture is made up of  "unique" individuals such as her, and for that reason, I think we are safe from becoming too much the same.

where are you from?

Tonight in my Sudanese class, we focused on the question word, "where?"  We asked, "where are you from?" and taught north, south, east, west, mountains, ocean, coast, middle, town, city, country, etc.  We drew a map of the U.S. on the white board, and then asked them to draw a map of Sudan and put things on it.  It's funny to me to think about this question being so important in the classroom.  Never is the U.S. or Iowa or Wisconsin as important to my identity as it is when I'm traveling.  Only in a foreign land do you realize just how much your culture and the "where" of your life make up who you are.  I can only imagine how much a homeland would mean if you were displaced by war.  I feel like I get a lot of that here, Jordan is made up of some insanely small percentage of actual Jordanian citizens; the rest of the people here are foreigners and refugees.  Palestinians, Iraqis, Sudanese, Syrians, you name it.  And all of these people have a different "where" that they come from, and most of them a different "where" they want to go.  My privelage amazes me in these situations- I am in complete control of my location. I live in Jordan for a while, I buy a plane ticket to visit my sister in Germany, I explore Egypt and Turkey with friends, I return home to the U.S., I come and go as I please, to anyWhere I want.  When some friends and I traveled to Aqaba a few weeks ago, our bus was stopped at a checkpoint where everyone of Palestinian descent had to get off the bus, check their passports, and then get back on again. The process was, in my opinion, stupid, but because Palestinians have to register in certain areas and I dont know what all else, it was ayadee (typical).  So, I count my blessings for that little blue book I have that allows me to go everywhere I want (unless I have an Israel stamp...) and at the same time wonder how something that people have so little control over has so much control over human life.  I think more than "where are you from" the question I want to ask is where are those imaginary lines from that make up so much of our being?

I do not have my Jordanian residency permit yet but today I got proof that I am indeed a resident. I was walking to the grocery store and a car full of women pulled up and stopped next to me. The driver rolled down the window and asked me where something I didn’t quite understand was in Arabic. Then, a girl in the back seat, yelled, “the Moroccan Embassy!” And I said, “Ah! Huhn (here!)” and pointed to the Moroccan Embassy which happens to be just across the street from my house. So there you have it; someone knew I was a local… or at least took a chance at me knowing where something was in the neighborhood, and I did!!! I live here. That’s right, I can give directions to places, what now?!

Teaching the Sudanese today was great. We played charades to express adjectives about people and to practice the question “Are you…?” We didn’t have that many adjectives to choose from but the guys were really clever. My favorites were the guy who got out a cell phone and pretended to talk on it, “Are you busy?” “yes, I am very busy;” the guy who flexed his muscles and pretended to lift something heavy, “are you strong?” “yes, I am very strong;” and the guy who got up, gave a dashing smile, and started posing like a model, “are you beautiful?” “Oh yes, I am very beautiful.” So much laughter and happiness in that classroom. Afterwards, we were invited over for cake at Muhammadeen’s house, the man who owns the building the guys live in. Abd al-Salaam was there, and he asked me where I will travel after my time in Jordan. I told him I would be traveling in June because I don’t have work, but then I would go back to America. I asked where he thinks I should travel. “I hope you go to Sudan” he told me, “there are no schools there. I hope you can make them a school.” My heart is currently trying to morph back into a whole from this statement that broke it into a million pieces. I have never felt so undeserving to have all that I do. How can some people have so much when some have so little? Life’s not fair, I know this, but is it so unfair that some people don’t get schools? I refuse to accept that. I want to build a school in Sudan. Mostly, I want to communicate more and learn about human needs and open doors for ideas and anything that any kid in Sudan can dream up. How this will all happen has yet to come to me. And I would be lying if I said I was patient, but on this one I think I have no choice but to mull over possibilities forever. If anyone knows anyone who is really into school making, let me know.

Updates on my numerous lives as a teacher, a teacher, a teacher, and…. a student. Gotta love academia.


School #1, Mafraq, gets better with each day. Yes, I still dread my alarm going off at 5:45 on Monday and Wednesday mornings, but that is more and more because of the time and less and less because I have to go to the middle of the desert and teach students who come to class with no book, no paper, no pen, and no will to listen to any of my directions or try to open their mouths so English words can come out. Not all the students are like this, but it really does get to you the few that are. One student kept asking me when the test was in Arabic, and I told him nicely to ask me in English (he’s one of the duds that never participates) I told him the question words, translated them for him, told him in Arabic to repeat after me, and he simply looked at me and said, “don’t speak English” so I got pissed and yelled, “Well the test is on Wednesday but you’re not going to do very well if you don’t speak English!” There are gem students as well, but of course, the bad ones stick out and often make for better stories. It made me feel better talking to Jomanna, who said she has the same problem. So at least I know it’s not just an English thing, and it’s not just a me thing. al-Al Bayt is just a… developing institution so to speak.

School #2, Iraqi Refugee school, is so fun! I love the students there. They are the most generous and wonderful people. They help me with my Arabic homework and are so willing to learn and happy to be around each other and me, and English. We’ve been doing fun things in class, like poems and today, limericks! It makes me happy to be there, and I look forward to getting to know them even better as people, not just as students. I love walking out of the building and seeing my adult students with their kids. Most of these people are really intelligent, I’m sure wonderful parents, and I’m just happy to be around them.

School #3, Sudanese Refugee in-home team teaching. Also wonderful, but night classes are tiring. These are the most apt and attentive students though by far. If we had chairs they would certainly be on the edge of them. This is the class I am most excited to see progress. Starting from ground zero, I am very interested to see after ten months, assuming they want us to teach for that long, just how much English learning can be accomplished. They are certainly faster than me, after two nights I can still only count to ten in Fur, the language of Darfur. They do get most of the lesson time though, to be fair. They, too, are very generous hosts and always offer us juice, soda, and water. I am co-teaching with my friend Sam, which makes things easier, and we have fun playing games, and of course, singing the ABC’s.

Studenthood. Shewya shewya (little by little). I am frustrated that the only people who want to talk to me are men. Jomanna is great too but she mostly likes to speak English and everyone who seems so willing to let me practice my Arabic with them is always in the culturally awkward, semi-taboo, what do I do with people of the opposite gender category. I love my tutor, though, and my formal classes at the language center are pretty good. I am still really looking for a niche for my Arabic though, being an English teacher is rough for the foreign language skills. I know grammar rules, but am used to them being broken. And my own words and explanations usually come out in a weird Arabglish mix that only another confused bi-linguist would have a prayer to understand.



ok that's my life. Time for bed.. that 5:45 alarm will come way to quickly in the morning. Hem duhl Allah.

TechNOlogy

Technology here befuddles me. Stores and signs and everything looks all very twenty first century, but in so many ways I am living in the early ages of all things electronic. For example, you remember the bank, hand copying pin numbers and bank account info. Another example, the other day I went with my roommate Grace to sign up for a biking trip with a cycling club. We got to the store, which we had to call to get directions to (I have feelings too strong to share online about the difficulties of finding places here), and she had to write her information and rip off a paper ticket, and then she had to re-copy the information to get tickets for each of our three friends that were also going on a trip. And you think about how this would work in the states- you go online, you type in your credit card number, you get an e-mail confirmation, you show up at the bike ride with name and/or confirmation number and chalas- it’s done. Now, you have also lost all human interaction and sense of accomplishment for finding the cycling store and blah blah I know what you lose, but it’s just so simple! And things are deceiving here.. because everyone has a computer, computers up and down and inside out, but I swear sometimes they are for decoration.


Al-al Bayt University is a perfect example of this. They are obsessed with computers. They wanted me to teach in a computer lab, they wanted me to have tests online, with automated grading, every other one of my students is studying Computer Information Systems to hopefully improve this whole system. That being said, everyone I have ever seen uses the peck type method. To get my own username and password, necessary for me to enter my students’ grades, I had to go to three different offices, where four different phone calls were made, and finally I was given an employee number and from a different office, password, written on a scrap of paper! I was kind of told how to enter students grades but it consisted of a lot of Arabic text on the computer screen so that will be interesting. I also wanted to photocopy my test, so I went during a short break in between classes, thinking that I could drop the test off at the copier, and come back after the next test. Silly me, why would a university have an efficient copy system? This is surely unnecessary. I was told because it was a test I could not leave the originals there, I had to wait until they were finished. The office assistant/computer techie examined the pages I had marked with the number of copies I needed. He began very slowly to load paper into an ancient Xerox machine, copy the one side, then reload the paper to do the other. When I realized how long it was going to take, I asked if I could come back with the others, because I had to teach a class. More frowning.. just five minutes. Thirty minutes later, I arrived to a near empty classroom, trying to accept that this is just the way things are sometimes. And fuming that inefficient technology made me look like a dud teacher.

Not electronic, but seatbelts are another example of how technology is inefficiently used. Basically, being in a car in Amman is probably the most hazardous thing you could possibly do for your health (especially because your driver is probably sending you enough second hand cigarettes to give you a set of nice black lungs). There are too many cars here for the roads to handle, and accidents are frequent and frequently deadly. Apparently, according to a teacher at my roommate’s school, a couple of years ago the government contracted a company to come up with solutions to the traffic problem in Amman. There recommendations were a. bulldoze the city and start over, or b. develop a raised sky road system that connected the entire city through a system of weird above ground bridge roads. Not surprisingly, neither of these were acted upon, and Amman continues to be a mess of horrible accidents. The thing that could be done easily though, would be to USE SEATBELTS. No one buckles up here, most cab drivers cut the seatbelts out of their cabs, and I frequently see ten kids piled in the back seat, climbing back and forth to the front, getting up on the dashboard, etc. You’d think that if car accidents were SO common here people would use the very simple technology that can save some ridiculous percentage of human lives! But no, like computers, seatbelts are most often for show.

Now, I am very nearly a cultural relativist, I do not preach right or wrong, and again, I understand that there are nearly an uncountable amount of reasons why things are the way they are. There is no better or worse in different, blah blah. But, hell, click it or ticket and learn how to send me an e-mail with my employee number so I can get on to your stupid server.

Some days are easier to be an ex-pat than others. these are thoughts I needed to vent. As usual, please remember that I love Jordan.

Colin is the American director of the Jesuit Center for Refugees where I teach Iraqis once a week.  The first day I met him, he was telling me about this house full of Sudanese guys he had met that he really wanted to start something with.  They couldn’t come to the school in the afternoons because they go out to look for day labor jobs, but they were interested in learning very beginning English, maybe some type of night class. I expressed a strong desire to get involved, and went back to the subject later in our conversation.  I asked what it would take to get something going with these guys, and he turned to me and said, “you.” I laughed and asked if he was kidding and he replied, “only kind of.  You know, if you want something done here, you just have to do it, that’s how it works.” So, I’m doing it. Today, Colin, myself, and my flatmate Hannah went to the residence of 25 Darfur refugees, basically just to say hi. One of the guys does go to the Jesuit school so he knows a little more English than the rest and speaks pretty good Arabic.  He welcomed us in and we shook hands all around.  The house is owned by a very nice man who has been in Jordan for 20 years now and started helping friends and family back home in Sudan.  It has three small rooms, most of which just have mattresses laid out on the floor.  Just inside the front door there is a small sink with a cup that held somewhere around 20 toothbrushes and a shoe rack with probably around 25 pairs of shoes.  They produced three chairs, Hannah and I each sat in one; Colin joined the rest of the men in the circle on the floor.  What unfolded next was perhaps a bit awkward, but in some ways much more natural than any sort of small talk or niceties that would’ve happened had we spoken any of the same languages.  We all said our names, I asked how long each man had been here.  Hannah asked if they spoke English and if they wanted to learn.  No, definitely did not speak it, yes definitely wanted to learn. We laughed a little, I learned the Sudanese numbers and said them in English as well. Things took a turn for the sad when we were shown into a small bedroom where a small boy was lying in bed.  They had been in a bad car accident, his mother had died and the boy now had a broken pelvis. His father was taking care of him from here in the house.  We were then served mango juice, given candies, and started talking business.  We will go to teach them twice a week on Tuesdays and Thursdays.  The owner of the house gave them a lecture in Arabic (which I understood!) about the severe consequences that would happen if we were ever given any trouble.  Even still, I think we will be adding a male volunteer to our teaching brigade for good measure.  The whole thing was a lesson in great humility and great appreciation for what I have, and even more than that I am excited to get to know these people, start to share a language and just time in the week.  I like that I get to go to their house, that there are no teaching materials other than what we procure, and that I feel like we are meeting a need not yet met by anyone.  Grassroots at its finest.  No official NGO work, no dumb title, no bureaucracy, no money, no nothing, just a house full of guys who asked to learn English, and a couple of native speakers who can help teach, and want to get to know people with a completely different life experience.  I am one million percent sure that I will learn more about life than they will English, but if they think they are getting a good deal, I won’t spoil it.  We left the house after about an hour and a half, and as Abu Salaam walked us out he was saying, “people are very happy today!” And I whole heartedly agreed.

Can you pass an English 101 Exam?!

So, victory for me yesterday, I have been given permission to write my own tests!! Now, you are probably thinking, why on earth would you want to write your own tests? Isn’t that just more work for you? And why on earth would you not want a test on a computer that can just grade it for you? The best type of test is multiple choice, right? Well, yes, creating and having to grade a real test with more than multiple choice questions will be work, but the thing is, my students were starting to complain that we weren’t using the worthless textbook, so I assured them that the tests would be over things we had specifically covered in class. Also, I had a chance to look at some past examinations, and perhaps found why so many of my students who “failed the exam” actually speak pretty good English. A few gems- circle the letter that indicates the correct answer:




1. The prime minister ….. in the Parliament every Monday

a. has got b. had c. has

2. Where was George yesterday?

a. He was making shopping b. He is making shopping c. He did shopping

3. One of the things that most house wives don’t like ………. Is the washing-up.

a. Making b. performing c. doing

Some of the errors in these tests are just funny but don’t misconstrue the meaning. But some, like the first one, should not be part of a college English test! So I will make my own. Also, I realized, tests are a teacher’s best friend. They tell you who is retaining the dumb stuff you say. You don’t have to plan a lesson for that day, or the next because then you can just go over the test! Tests are so much better when you are a teacher! I will however, need to seriously observe to prevent cheating.. which is culturally understood as “helping a friend.” But if I can make my own test I can oversee my own test. So watch out October 19, Test 1. 20% of the final grade, there will be no questions about house wives or making shopping, but you better know the prime minister had in the Parliament ever Monday.

So my mom tells this “hilarious” anecdote about how I came home from kindergarten one day very upset because I didn’t have any friends. Yes, I had played with other kids, finger painted and the like with em, but no one had asked me, “Will you be my friend?” An adorable anecdote, for my mother, who then had to explain to me that just because you don’t verbalize a relationship doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Well, mom, I don’t know, I think I may have finally gotten my first friend today. One of my students asked if he could talk to me outside of class and seeing as how my office hour as been void of students, I assured him that I would like nothing more. So he came in and I asked if he wanted to practice his English and he said he didn’t care he just wanted to get to know me. Now, I understand that as a young female teacher, I need to be cautious about setting boundaries, especially with male students, but the hard part is that I do want to get to know them better and be friend-ly if not friends. So I told him a little more about myself, white lied and sped up my relationship a few years to say no I wasn’t married, but definitely engaged, waving a kind of pathetic excuse for a fake engagement ring.  After this he told me he thought I had a very nice character and he hoped we’d stay in touch. (I don’t see how we wouldn’t considering he can’t graduate from university if he doesn’t come to my class twice a week, but who knows how or where people pick up little English catch phrases) Then, he struggled to remember the words so he got out a piece of paper and pen and wrote out the question “Can we be friends?” Now, as I have no experience with this question, MOM, I wasn’t sure what to do! Can we be friends? Is that allowed? I was friend-ly with my professors… So I said, well, I’m your teacher, but yes we can also be friends. Then he looked at what he had written and asked me if I understood him. At this point I was very nervous that the word “friend” had a much different connotation for him than it did for me so I creaked out a nervous, “I think…” He was very relieved and very happy; it really was like a kid being nervous to ask someone else to play. He was also very polite and proper the whole time. He never said anything about getting coffee or sitting in a shop, and he left my rather ambiguous marital status alone. The only thing he pushed was for me to tell him my age, which I now refuse to tell anyone, and even after explaining my reasoning he seemed very disappointed by this. He invited me to Jerash, where he lives, and promised me he would show me around. He also informed me that he would add me on facebook and wanted to make sure I would respond with a confirmation of our friendship. So, I think, I hope, he was just a nice student who likes to meet foreigners… hopefully, I can also help him with English. Mom, I still don’t know how to make friends, but at least now I know I’m not the only person who thinks it’s polite to ask.

Teaching Highs and Lows

High: Today in class we looked at “Pictures of US,” a handy teaching tool provided by the official Office of English Language Teachers or something like that. They are these large pictures of scenes of Americana- girl scouts saying the pledge of allegiance, ranchers rounding up cattle, students getting on a school bus, etc. etc. and then there is a sheet suggesting a million different ways to use them in the ESL classroom. I picked a “beginning level” activity, and had small groups of students simply write a description of the picture they had and then present it to the class. Tough to say whether or not they liked this activity; things out of the textbook are not highly accepted at Al-albayt, I’m learning this very quickly. I peaked the interest of at least one student, however, who approached me after class with a question. Her picture had been of a politically correct picture of a multicultural kindergarten classroom, almost every group that got this picture commented on how there were black children and white children (I don’t think they know the word, “Hispanic” or I’m sure they would have included this). Anyway, this student asked me if that’s really how it is in America, if all the classrooms have people with different skins. I explained that in some places, like where I’m from, there are more people who look white, like me, but yes, everywhere the students are all together and especially in big cities, there are lots of schools with people who look different from all over the world. I don’t want to sound belittling at all, but her reaction was precious. She smiled and said, “Wow, that’s very nice, I think.” I replied very proudly, “yes, it’s wonderful!” Since that moment, I’ve been reflecting on how true my statement was. I read in the New York Times, yesterday about Alabama’s new racial profiling, (sorry, I mean “immigration law”) and thought about a lot of cities where most schools are pretty solidly one ethnicity.. based on neighborhood based on ecomonic class based on past and present tense racism and cultural barriers. But, overall I do think America is pretty happily multicultural. Certainly more so than Jordan, where Asians are gawked at, Pacific Islanders are assumed to be domestic workers, Iraqis are moochers, Western women are easy, white people are rich, etc. Please, do not be offended by this generalization. This is NOT every Jordanian and I in no way mean to suggest that the U.S. doesn’t have stereotypes. I also have to own my privilege and recognize that my perception in America is much different as there I am the majority. But I cannot imagine a Latino woman walking down the street of a major city and having multiple men call out to her, “Hola, como estas? ” in the creepiest of fashions, which is basically what I get every day here. In sum, I like that a picture of children with different backgrounds sitting on the same carpet in a classroom is “American” and that for the most part, I think my country really does support that value. Low: A student who should not be in my English class because his English is way too good told me after class today that he thought I was not preparing them well for the tests. You’re going too slowly, he said. This was the same period, mind you, that a group of smarmy shebab (young men) asked what to do with their picture, and responded to my directions with sneers and, “No, Don’t speak English.” So I told this kid after class that I appreciated his advice, and I actually thought I was going faster than the book, because most students seem to already know the worthless b.s. in the book, so now I’m trying to command a better working knowledge of the language. But, they will not be prepared for the exams, was his reply. This has been a huge source of stress for me. I recently tried to find out whether or not I could create my own exams or if I had to give the standard ones used for all the English classes. Of course, no one knows for sure, and the decision maker Dr. Amr who doesn’t speak English was also not at school on Monday. The thing is, even if they have to take the standard test, I am teaching them the same information, the same grammar, the same vocab, but I am not training them to find it on a computer with an automated multiple choice exam. I am making them use it and speak it hopefully in ways that make them think and interact rather than go through this super boring book. So if I can organize a test in a way that is fair to the method I want to use, my (good) students will do well, as will anyone who can speak English. If I have to give them this standardized test (which I’ve seen a model of and there are questions so ambiguous I’m not sure I could pass) then maybe they would pass but maybe they would just not understand the stupid context and form. Meanwhile, the students are confused as to why I don’t take attendance (I only want the ones who come to learn and who aren’t going to be obnoxious) they want to know the syllabus (so do I for the record but I don’t know if I get to make it or not), and they are worried they will fail because we’ve opened the book maybe once in class (this is also partially because the photocopy is really not that good so even if I wanted to do activities from the book, I can’t read half of them). Ma ba’arif (I don’t know.) High: I really like my English 99 class. They are smarter than one of my 101 classes and only a little too rowdy. They make hilarious pop culture references- I never thought I would attempt to draw SpongeBob on a chalkboard in front of 50 college students. They tell each other to listen- “shut up” was used today and I was so grateful to hear the words I’ve wanted to say so badly that it didn’t matter that it didn’t do any good. And even if they don’t respect them, they at least acknowledge that there are rules- they pretend to apologize when their phones ring in class and laugh when I semi-jokingly tell them I’m going to kick them out next time. There is also a girl who invited me to her house for dinner and I cannot wait to find a week to take her up on the offer. English 99, anyone who mentions SpongeBob on the final gets an automatic pass. You make me laugh. There’s no low in TeacHInGH. There are many. But end on a high note, yeah?

Excitement

I am very excited; this Tuesday I will start volunteering at the Jesuit Refugee Center, which is an education center in East Amman that serves the Iraqi refugee population. I visited last Tuesday and knew immediately that it was a place I wanted to spend some time. The center runs classes for all ages Monday through Thursday from 3-6 pm. They have music, art, English, and computer classes, as well as a football (soccer) team. Talking to Colin, one of the directors and soul western employee, I quickly filled in the large gap of knowledge I had about Iraqi reugees in Jordan. Most are waiting for visas to America, which is a long, long process that has an unknown length of time and outcome (and I thought getting my green ATM card was hard..). They are not allowed to work in Jordan, because of course the idea is to get them to leave as soon as possible. Their kids are allowed to go to public schools, but many don’t because they are “leaving soon to go to America” or back to Iraq or anywhere that they can settle and have a real life. Colin explained that the center tries to balance giving students a good education and simply providing a place of support and community for people who are not given either. I have never so much felt the effects of U.S. foreign policy as I do in Jordan, and let me just say, it should not surprise anyone that we have a bad reputation. It’s funny to be removed from national politics, I’m sure Michelle Bachman is still saying ridiculous things, but as outraged as that would’ve made me a month ago, it doesn’t seem to matter all that much compared to the apparently Democratic and Republican policy on Israel. That is an entirely different blogpost though, the point here is that being at the JRC was a very real reminder that there is an actual place Iraq, there was an actual war there with real war consequences, and real people who are displaced because of it. Things we all know but are too easy not to think about. So I am going to start teaching English here, an adult conversation class. I wanted to work with the kindergarten class, but my eardrums wouldn’t have it, yelling is apparently the appropriate way to communicate with children here, and having them yell things back in unison is how to make them learn. So instead, I will be reading short news articles, short stories, and other tid bits with three classes of 10- 15 adults. The classes I sat in on were wonderful. Everyone was fully engaged and cracking jokes. The teacher would have the students read aloud, stopping every few sentences to discuss the meaning of words and phrases, especially references to American culture. A discussion of “virtual happiness” led to not only a technical definition of the word “happiness” but also a small philosophical debate. It was inspiring to see people so bravely learning and using this language, though I am getting used to classes at al-albayt, it was refreshing to be around people who really wanted to practice and speak, and I hope that I can be of service in their English endeavor. So, if you read any, please point me in the direction of interesting articles that might be good discussion starters.
Also, I am excited to be a student again! Starting tomorrow, I will have Arabic class twice a week at the Qasid language center, conveniently located just down the street from my apartment! I have not been very good about Arabic here and I’m looking forward to getting back into the groove and in shah allah, being able to communicate more and more (shewya shewya) in Arabic. I am focusing on the colloquial here, Ammeya, in hopes that at the end of ten months, I can actually have a conversation with someone. Someday, in shah allah, I will sit with a group of Jordanians and know, at minimum, the topic of conversation. In shah allah.

More on Mafraq

So, Al-albayt continues to blur fantasy and fiction for me. Overall, I think the best I can do is say that I’m sure I will grow to love it, or at least greatly appreciate the experiences it offers me. Monday was an interesting day, I finally met the last American I had heard about who works at the university, the infamous Dr. Ross. Dr. Ross is teaching at Al-albayt through a teacher exchange program funded by USAID and organized through Georgetown. He is an older man who has been teaching English abroad for several years in more than several different countries and regions. Our meeting was an interesting one- it came about like so: I was sitting in the office I share with Spanish teacher Aisha, (and by share I mean I stay out of the office until 2 when she leaves and then sometimes I go sit at the one desk in the room pretending students might be able to find me or an “office hour”) and I got a call from Dr. Amr. (this is the head of the language center, remember, who doesn’t speak English) he asks me, in Arabic, if I am free Mondays and Wednesdays at 2. Technically, I am, I have just taught for 6 straight hours. Can I teach a class then? Well, what class? Is there a curriculum? Um… ok Dr. Amr will come to my office in five minutes. At this point Jomanna stopped in to check in on me and invite me to her house for dinner on Wednesday. While she was there, Dr. Amr comes and uses her as a translator to ask me if I will teach English pronunciation class, only about 80 students. Dr. Ross had taught the class before, so I asked Dr. Amr through Jomanna if I could meet Dr. Ross and ask him about it. Dr. Amr leaves suddenly and comes back with Dr. Ross. “Oh so you re the one they want to pawn this class off on. They asked me, but I’m sick of their bull *** so I told them no!” huh. So I asked about the class, about his experience teaching here, and what I should do. He told me much of what I already knew, but it was interesting to hear it so bluntly stated. Basically, English is often pass fail and required, so most of the students aren’t there to actually learn anything. The tests are poor and there aren’t really prerequisites so students are rarely placed in an appropriate level and classes are huge. Cheating is rampant, as are cell phones in class. The text books are illegally copied English books from the 80’s that are in no way interesting to teach or learn from. He said the only reason they have most of these classes is because they are still randomly in the registrar and meet certain ancient requirements so students sign up for them. The reason they don’t have a professor is because no one wants to teach them so they try to pass them o to anyone they can. Dr. Ross suggests that I politely decline this offer. I tell Jomanna to please tell Dr. Amr that I don’t think my schedule will allow me to teach this class. Dr. Amr makes a phone call. We are soon joined in my office by Dr. Omar, the head of the English department. Dr. Omar comes in and heatedly begins talking to Dr. Ross. Shouting ensues “No I will not teach your class because it’s shit! It’s shit!” “It is not shit! Students have signed up or it they want to be in the class but it needs a teacher!” “No one wants to teach it because everyone knows it is shit! The students couldn’t care less about it. I will not be the dog of the English department” “This is not a matter of department! This is a university, you work for the university! These are good students they are not shit!” “ I have worked and worked and worked for you and I’m done rolling over for you…” You get the idea of this very animated dialogue. Meanwhile, while these men are literally shouting across my/Aisha’s desk, Jomanna grins at me and “regretfully” tells me she has to go. So I am alone now and after Dr. Ross slams his fist on the table for the final time, Dr. Amr steps in. “Ok ok hallass (enough) Dr. Ross, you only teach in language center. Jennifer, you only language center” Dr. Omar and Dr. Ross each take a deep breath, and we are all invited to Dr. Amr’s office. We change locations, and Dr. Ross and I sit and chat a little while Dr’s Amr and Omar call every other English teacher that works for the university trying to find someone who will teach this class. Finally, they find someone, and Dr. Omar praises God. He hugs Dr. Amr. Pats Dr. Ross on the back and wants to make sure there are no hard feelings and leaves. Still in bewilderment at my witness to all of this, I politely tell Dr. Amr that the faculty bus is leaving shortly and I need to leave to go back to Amman. So I officially teach three sections of English 101 and one of English 99. Thanks to Dr. Amr, I now have an actual classroom, as opposed to a weird computer lab, and a blackboard and everything. I still don’t know how to deal with 50 students each class or an hour and fifteen minutes, but as Scot, a Peace Corps Volunteer told me, it’s the little things that will count. You wont be able to change their system, but you can put small differences in it. So, step one, teach in actual classroom, not from glass booth with head set.

Cairo Amman Bank

On getting a Jordanian Bank Account:
Necessary documents and information: Passport, copy of apartment lease agreement, letter from agency documenting responsibility for getting you a residency permit. Two contacts/character witnesses, their occupation and official titles, addresses, phone numbers, and company names. Your name and mother’s name (Sara, works just fine) and marital status (don’t say “married” unless your husband is there with you, don’t say “single” if you’re dealing with a male banker)

Time commitment: one and a half to two weeks. Minimum four bank visits. Minimum one hour per visit. Bank hours are Sun- Thurs 8:30 am – 3 pm. Do not show up after 2 if you want to get anything done.

Visit 1 Objective: Understand culture of bank as workplace. Fill out paperwork.
Walk into bank and take a number. Sit and watch bank tellers. Notice how slowly, customers are called up to the teller counter, but no numbers are being called for account services. Notice how the screens that are supposed to display numbers over business desks, are actually mostly turned off and how must staff at a desk are either chatting or doing their nails. Ask banker politely if you are doing to the right thing. Do you have a number? Yes. Wait a little longer, then finally, banker switches on number sign to call a few numbers before you, then finally, your number. Double check to make sure you have all the correct paperwork! Visit 1 is actually three visits without all of the proper documentation noted above. At the end of visit one, you will have- nothing. Actually, if you have a good banker you will have some syrupy grape juice. Eventually, you will need to make a 100 JD minimum deposit but your account must be approved first which will take maybe two to three days. If your banker is nice, she will call you when your account is ready. She will also want to learn English, friend you on facebook, and invite you out for coffee. No need to give her your number, she has it from your account application.

Visit 2 Objective: Obtain bank account number and high scores for all the games on your cell phone.
Walk into bank and take a number. Sit and watch bank tellers. Notice how still, there are no numbers being called. Say hi to staff you saw before. See your banker. She will be with you in just a minute. Banker no longer bothers to turn on number. She invites you to her desk. After shuffling through a lot of paperwork, she produces several pages that need your signature. She then writes a long number on a piece of scratch paper. Ta dah! Your Bank account number. You want to make a deposit? As it turns out, 100 JD is not necessary, any amount (or none) is fine. Your ATM card? No you will have to come back tomorrow.

Visit 3 Objective: Obtain ATM card
Walk into bank and debate taking number. Just in case, take meaningless piece of paper that has a number. See your banker! She is so sorry she didn’t call you over the weekend, she was very busy. After waiting the usual twenty minutes, she invites you to her desk and digs out a folder with your ATM card. You will not be able to use the card, however, until you get your pin number which is not ready yet. Do not ponder what good an ATM card is without a pin number. The bank is full of things that will never make sense to you. Best not to mull over them.

Visit 4 Objective: Obtain PIN number

You have learned by now that the number system does not matter in any way shape or form but it is ingrained into the cultural mechanisms that control your muscle movements. You try not to, you walk toward the waiting area, away from the machine that gives you meaningless pieces of paper, but your fingers twitch and just in case.. you go back to get a number. Your banker sees you and welcomes you back. A different banker handles the pin numbers though, so you are instructed to wait at his desk. Banker will come with long pieces of paper. He hand copies each account number onto corresponding sheet with pin numbers one by one. You notice he writes acct. no 182 twice and wonder if you will actually get the pin number for your account. You are relieved when he also catches this mistake. Finally, you are given a small envelope that is promised to have a four digit pin code inside. It will not work, however, until after four ‘o clock.


I went back to the bank today to get a manager’s check for my rent. It is almost like another home now, all my old friends. I didn’t even take a number this time and I got in and out with what I needed in a record hour and ten minutes!! Now, there were certainly times when this banking business was frustrating. Thinking about how easy it would be to open a bank account in the states, how I would probably get free checks and I-Tunes credit or something, how my sister got an umbrella from her German bank. But that is just not how things work here, and while sometimes this is tough for an outsider, it can also be refreshing. Nope, I can’t do anything else today, I have to go to the bank. I did get really good at snake on my cell phone, read some good books, and most importantly, gained insight into a place where work isn’t the main goal of life. Where lunch breaks are longer and the working day is shorter, because things like family, friends, and yes, traffic, take up more time. It took me weeks to get a bank account, but just a few minutes with Sanna, my banker to get a new Jordanian friend. So, ma’aleysh. It’s ok.

I got a very nice call from Jomanna this evening, who is thus far the closest woman to sainthood I have met. Jomanna is another professor at Al-albayt, she is 33 years old, and she got her PhD at age 26. She comes from a pretty conservative family, she says, her dad doesn’t let her do much but he has allowed her to get a good education so she spends her time studying. She always wants to learn as much as possible in a short amount of time and is dedicated to serving others- I was actually surprised as to how often and appropriately the verb “to serve” came out of her good, but still limited English vocabulary. For example, she said there were two deaf girls in town who never got out and as such were mentally and socially handicapped. So, Jomanna learned Arabic sign language and taught it to them and took them out into town, because this is how she saw she could serve them. I’d say. She has adopted me as her sister at the university, which is a service to me probably more than she or anyone could ever comprehend.
Anyway, Jomanna called me to check in, I had talked to a Peace Corps Volunteer, Scot, about some concerns I had about teaching and he had passed them along to her, so she was calling to make sure “I could be happy.” The thing I have to understand, she explained to me, was that my students were the ones who, when they took the placement exam, failed. I have to understand, that they come from schools in the country, where no one speaks English. I have to understand that one of the levels I teach is pass/fail so the students probably wont try that hard, because a 90% is the same as 50%. I feel like I actually understand most of these things quite well. It became pretty clear on the first day of class when my interaction with students went something like this:
Me: Hello, my name is Ms. Jennifer and I am from America. I will be you teacher this semester. Our rules for the class will be, please, no cell phones. Speak only in English, so we can practice, and if you ever don’t understand or want me to repeat something, raise your hand.
Class: blank stares…
Me: do you know, “raise your hand” (mimes raising hand)
Class: blank stares…
Me: right now, if any of you speak any English, raise your hand.
Class: blank stares…
Me: Right now, if you understand what I say, raise your hand.
One student raises his hand.

So I actually learned very quickly just how beginner, Beginning English is. I learned when I asked my 99 level class (like 101 in the states) to write the English alphabet. A lot of students left out the letter “u.” I also asked them to spell out the numbers, I gave them the example “one” and most of them wrote “1, 2, 3, 4…” and then I asked them to write anything they knew how to say about themselves in English. Most had a sentence or two, a few only wrote their names what I don’t understand, however, is how I am qualified at all to teach these students. With a bachelor’s degree in anything but education, I fail to see how my status as “native speaker” qualifies me to get up in front of 100 university students twice a week for an hour and a half and get them to a working proficiency of English. I am all about rising to a challenge; I came to Jordan hoping that it would push my comfort levels, wanting to learn things about myself, strengths, weaknesses, and all the mushy parts in between. But usually, when I come across mental, emotional, and physical stresses, I feel I at least have tools I can draw on to deal, overcome, and grow. Other than constantly googling “TEFL Lesson plans” I am at a loss for this one.
After my first day of teaching, I went to hide away in another Peace Corps Volunteer teacher’s room, and played chess with one of his students. Afterward, Ahmed asked if he could talk to me and give me some advice. Of course! I answered, I am starving for help and advice. “You must have every lesson prepared perfectly,” he solemnly told me. “You must not let them see you make mistake and you must tell them everything in perfect Arabic. They do not understand otherwise and, I am so sorry to tell you this, I know it seems very difficult, but if you do not speak and tell them in Arabic, they will think you are very dumb.”
Thanks, Ahmed, for that lovely advice.
So I understand the level of the students. What I need to understand, it seems, is how to transform myself from pumpkin into English coach, how to make my already limited knowledge of grammatical terminology bilingual, and how to stand up in front of way to large language classes and get students to speak and interact in a language they don’t know- something that goes against the culture of this country’s education and social system. I think I might just have to be dumb.

Lost in Translation

A week ago I first met two professors from Al-albayt University in Mafraq, Jordan. One Dr. Yousseff, who was a professor of English, and one Dr. Amr, who is the head of the Language department and speaks no English. This was my first contact with anyone from the university and our conversation went something as follows:
(all of Drs’ text translated from Arabic to English and back)
Me: It’s so nice to meet you! I’m so happy to have this opportunity!
Drs’: We are so happy also to have you. You want live in Mafraq or Amman?
Me: umm well, I already live here in Amman. But that actually brings up a good point.. I was told there would be transportation from Amman to Mafraq, is there a driver?
Drs’: no not driver… there is bus. You can take bus no problem. And how many days you want teach?
Me: umm well, I’m not really sure, I mean, how far is it? I would like to be a part of the community at the university
Drs: ok well you will teach 12 hours a week you can teach 4 hours for three days or 6 hours for 2 days each.
Me: well, I really want to be involved, so 3 days?
Drs: ok you find the bus nearby where you live at city circle and we will have another teacher call you if you have problem. You come Tuesday first day and we will give you tour of school. You teach English level 99 and 101 I think is better. Beginning level. Classes are maybe.. 50 students and you teach in a computer lab. There is set curriculum.
Me: um, well, I hope that works because I’m really supposed to be more of an assistant… So I’m not really trained to teach by myself but if there is a set curriculum, maybe, we could see how it works..
Drs: very good. Ok school starts Sunday but you come first time on Tuesday. We give you tour of university, you can see the class.
Me: ok! So nice to meet you, I am very much looking forward to working with you.

You can take bus no problem: So things changed and I decided I would work 2 days a week because of the long commute. There was some confusion as to which day I would first come then, so on Monday, I went out to find this bus, just in case it was the day that I was supposed to go.. but no luck. No call from the professor who was supposed to help me find the bus, and the circle where I was supposed to find the bus was very busy, many many busses. Impossible to find the one bus for me. So, only slightly disheartened at 6:45 a.m., I changed out of my very modest and professional clothing and went back to bed. Day two, I was equipped with a new phone number of the teacher I was supposed to call if I had any trouble finding the right bus. An e-mail exchange told me Tuesday would be a fine day to come for the first time, so again, I went down to this major intersection, and, upon seeing once again, a million busses, called Dr. Mazen. His phone was off. I called Dr. Youssef, who is supposedly my sponsor teacher. His phone was also off. I started asking people for busses to Mafraq. Ooo noo, you get on bus to Zarqa, then from there get on bus to Mafraq. Here get on this bus… I will tell the driver for you. uhhhh. And the adventure begins. Luckily, I ended up sitting by a student at Al-albayt University. Hem dul allah! Eventually, we stopped at this giant bus stop center in the town of Zarqa (these are the towns that you think of when you think of Jordan… not metropolitan Amman, but in the middle of the desert, nothing much there) My seatmate gets off the bus, and the bus driver points to a large mob of people and several dozen different busses. “To mafraq” umm ok great thanks. My seatmates shoves me up onto one of the charter buses and I meander to the back. I hope she comes to sit by me again but instead I am joined by another younger student at the university. Shaema, is very nice, and when we get off at the military complex that has now become Al-albayt university, she and her friends are kind enough to help me find the language center. “you are welcome to our country!” is most of the English that they know.. and they mostly giggle in Arabic. They do ask “Are you Christian or Muslim?” Christian gets an appropriate mumble of a response for being rather an unsatisfactory answer. Shaema finally drops me off, not with Dr. Yousseff, who I had imagined would be waiting for me with open arms, so glad to finally see me again and that I had found my way, even though his mysterious “faculty bus” did not seem to exist. Instead, I find myself sipping Turkish coffee in a room of females. Three English teachers, and one Arabic teacher who speaks no English. The group says hello, and then continues to gossip and laugh in Arabic. I sit, quietly, wondering if my presence is as awkward for them as it is for me. Occasionally, one of them lets me in on the topics- “We are talking about when we were young, we are talking about her bag, we are talking about a toy car for her son” and it is also explained to me, “We would either have to translate for her (motions to Arabic teacher) or for you, so we keep talking in Arabic” Naturally. I ask for advice, “Be strict,” they tell me. “The students are not very nice and they do not study” great “They have to take English but they do not speak it. but you just follow the book and you will find it very easy. Just do not joke with them do not smile. You must be very strict.” Ok. no problem. I am only a year if that older than the students and look at least five years younger than most but I will just put my foot down. I have problems disciplining small children, let alone college students, but why not? I can be tough, right? Finally Dr. Heeyam invites me to her office and asks if I have questions. Later, she says we will see the lab where I will teach and go to my office. Do I have questions. What do I not have questions about? "well," I said, "I guess one thing would be, where can I find the right bus?"

How to spend my time?

Meine gute Schwester and I were skyping the other day and marveling at our good fortune. I am officially done with all Fulbright orientations, getting acquainted programming stuff, and now, here I am to do… eh? I have yet to start actually teaching, this happens.. in the future in shah allah, and my own Arabic classes don’t start until October 2nd. I have to check in with the Fulbright office as they help me get my residency permit, and for the annual Thanksgiving abroad feast; I have to compose some sort of “midterm progress report” for my language study (anticipated length: one page) and other than that, I have to teach twelve hours a week and am encouraged to get involved in community service. So, basically, last year, I said, I want to live in another country, and the U.S. government said, ok you can do that for free. Here is some money. WHO DOES THAT HAPPEN TO?! and now, I’m having a minor internal crisis, because for the first time, I am not being held accountable. No one is grading me, watching over me, holding my hand or ensuring that I accomplish x,y, z, which I know I can do. I feel I have successfully met the standards of Randy and Sara Compton, Ames High School, Lawrence University, Sierra Service Project, the Appleton YMCA, etc. etc., but now I have to face the toughest judge and the most competitive field: myself. And what if, at the end of 10 months, the Fulbright commission says, thanks ma’salaam, and the Jennifer board says, you didn’t do enough? This is my greatest fear, and why I spent an hour today e-mailing every NGO I could google asking if they wanted another volunteer. What should I do here? How should I make my mark? Who should I talk to? What things should I try to get involved with? And how long should I wait to start jumping in? The director of the commission said to be patient, meet people, let yourself get settled. But I only have ten months! Precious seconds of cultural exchange and global interaction are being wasted! When signing our lease, I asked my landlady how I could meet the other families in our apartment. She smiled and said oh, just wait til you see them in the hall. There goes my plan to make everyone some tasty Midwestern bars and ring their doorbell. Relationships come naturally; jobs and opportunities are found through networking, not stalking internet posts. But what if I’m not good at that? What if my relational skills do not meet my own expectations? Where is the measure? How do I know if I have enough Jordanian friends, if I have logged enough volunteer hours? How do I know if this experience has made a big enough impact on me and in my life? How do I know what difference I can make for others? Personal relations and self fulfillment should really have a rubric.

On that note, if there was a rubric, I would mark the “satisfactory” box for neighbor relations. I have now met two other residents of our apartment building. Today, our elderly neighbor across the hall invited us in for coffee. We met her young grandson, who proudly showed us his English homework, and after a brief exchange of niceties and Nescafe, we were on our way. Next step, casserole/cookie exchange. We also know the family who owns the building and lives on the first floor. They have a very nice young doctor son who offered to help me carry groceries and also happens to be easy on the eyes which really does not hurt my desire to be neighborly.