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.