crazy little Philine

November 29

The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me
Some mornings I wake up, hopelessly lost in attempts of making sense of my life. Lately, life's been a moto ride on an unpaved road, shards of glass and broken bricks hit the wheels unexpectedly, and I'm, as Neruda puts it, a once free foot, in which reality "condemned to live in a shoe, feeling out life like a blind man". So my life really isn't so hardcore, but it is exciting enough and more for me. Here are couple of anecdotes from my weekly experiences.

one
I recieved a new student this last week, one I was told over the last 3 1/2 months, was coming and not coming just about every other week. She arrived in a lacy white dress, ruffles on her sleeves, her eyes big and black and full of mischief. She is Indian, and her father lied to Sharon, saying she was 6 years old, because that is the youngest age you are allowed to be to be permitted to enter the first grade. She then told me, in class that she was 5, and then to Kim, she said she was 4. She is tiny and undisciplined, not deliberately disobedient but obviously unfamiliar with the way school children behave and line up and quit running inbetween the classrooms long after the bell has rung. Her father told me that she only spoke English, which really, translated to, she didn't speak Khmer. At first, when Kim asked her, how old she was, she said, "I'm fine, thank you." (the exact robotic response I get from my Khmer children, who definitely are not yet fluent in English). Kim lived in India for 5 years and spoke to her in Indian and told me that she seemed to understand much clearer in Indian than in English. I brought her into the classroom and did small tests to try and measure her knowledge and experience. She told me she had studied the alphabet, but didn't know the sounds, doesn't know her numbers yet, and when I gave her a paper of vocab words with pictures (merely to review as a class activity) she scribbled all over it and then ripped it in half. It took me a whole period to get her to write sentences, in which she refused to just copy and I had to read her letter by letter. Aliza did her math for her, and by 4th period, she came to saying, "I went caca in the panties..." Her voice was quiet and her words mumbled, and after she repeated it a second time, I caught a whiff of the "caca", and it didn't smell good, took her upstairs to the bathroom, and did my best to repair the damage. We rinsed her underwear in the sink and she continued to go more in the toilet, her legs spread in the air. She would not stop screaming unless I held her dress up and insisted she could not wipe herself. And we returned to the classroom in her satin dress with wet panties, which fortunately hadn't browned from her accident, whispering softly in her ear, "Are you feeling better sweetie?" I don't think she's ready for first grade, but we'll see, I feel as of late, its only too common to find myself in situations that at first feel impossibly unrealistic, and just somehow (by God's grace, care, and sustenance) find a way to make it work.

two
Parent teacher conferences were this last week for first quarter, and a parent came into my room to meet about the progress of her son Chamrong. She is aged widow with many sons, ranging from mid-twenties to 7 years old, tired from her responsibilities, loneliness, and the walk of life. I told her the truth of Rong's behavior, that he keeps quiet, nods that he understands the lesson, is quick to turn in his homework, says he doesn't need help, and then turns in his work completely wrong, at least 50% of the time (which is the on the way to failing 1st grade), and a lot of times I don't have the time to catch it until after class has finished (30 students can be a handful). In my room, she is shocked and discouraged and starts to cry hysterically, her words slurring as she gasps for air, speaking loudly in Khmer, making a language I can already barely understand in the clearest of voices completely undiscernable. I sit there quietly, uncomfortable and confused, "Somtoh!" (sorry), I repeat, "Rong has many good qualities, he's always respectful, always quiet and well-behaved, gets along well with others, I'm sure there is a solution...." She leaves in tears, asking repeatedly that I work on her boy, that I make sure he understands, that I insist he let me help him, and I comply without much confidence. Today she brought me lunch in my classroom, saying she thinks I should stay in Cambodia at least until Chamrong is grown-up, "My oldest son, you can marry," she says, "Do you want a Cambodian husband? He's tall actually, fair-skinned, like a Chinese, do you like that?"

November 22

So the mystery of my missing wallet was not that I was careless or pick-pocketed by a strange hoodlum in the marketplace, rather, a student came into my room during break (an older student, presumably), searched through all of the zipper pockets of my backpack, stole my wallet, emptied it all of the cash, and then returned it 5 days later (which really isn't all that shocking, as Liz once caught a 7th grader go through all of my drawers and search my gradebook for his younger brother's grades, yet the lock on my desk is broken and I am required to keep my room unlocked and all of the windows open during all school hours). Not only does it break my heart, that I probably face this student each day in friendly conversation and its all a farce, but its also horribly inconvenient because the day before I quickly grabbed my wallet from purse and put it in the front zipper pocket of my backpack, I had exchanged a $100 bill at lucky market, bought about $10 worth of groceries, and didn't think to take the change out of my wallet, which was the rest of that months paycheck, so, will suffice it to say, I'm completely broke -- that was exactly half of my paycheck ($90, I get $180 per month), also my credit cards were cancelled 2 days prior to the return of it, so even having those back is completely useless. I was talking to the dean parent Janice, and she said that working in the dorm this year has been tremendously difficult, because the children are very deceptive and secretive, and that even small children can lie on queue and not blink an eye, mostly to cover for the older kids. I’d just rather live in the happy daydreams of my head, where everything is beautiful and nothing hurts, and everybody is morally sound, and always perfectly trustworthy. I hate when reality forces you to be cynical. Forces you to realize that some people are just horribly misguided, and have been their entire lives, and its hard to say if they will ever recover from it (a downward spiral), it just perplexes me on how these people can exist and live with themselves, and I hate feeling so guarded and cynical. Yet I’d be stupid if I didn’t adapt to being this way. I’m never bringing more than $5 to school ever again.

ps. Happy Thanksgiving.... that's today, right? I almost forgot.

my sweet sweet little Sotha boy

November 19

Mid-way through Math (2nd period), I realized the once novelty of my SE Asian life has turned wonderfully and horribly mundane and ordinary. Redundant even, as I wake up the same time every morning, in the same crowded apartment, walk or ride the same dirt, dusty roads to school every morning, to arrive upon the same classroom, the same children. I read old journals and realized months ago, only just arriving, being so nervous for my first day, staring my children in the face for the first time, them only being mere strangers, only having their names (clueless to even how to pronounce them) printed on a piece of paper. And now I'm here, with them crawling on my lap, kissing my cheeks, pulling on my clothes, demanding every bit of my attention, and I know their faces, their names, the way they smile and laugh, their friends, their likes, their dislikes, before I walk in the door I know who will struggle with this lesson and excel in the other. Some days, its incredibly frustrating, for this to be my reality, and other days, I'm overwhelmed with a love that I'd never find in college in America. Teaching 30 kids in every subject, in a language they can't understand, I've learned to speak broken English, to speak as simple as I can, that prepositions or gerunds and all the "buts" and "fors" are superfluous. I've learned to go into town on my lonesome to run an errand, perusing a dirty, crowded, dangerous city where nobody understands me. To speak enough Khmer to tell a motorbike taxi where to go or how to buy fruit or eggs or rice in the marketplace and understand the prices. And as I rode into town, clutching grocery bags in both arms, my legs dangling off the side of a motorbike, behind a complete stranger who probably hadn't bathed in days and didn't speak a word of English, I realized, that this is okay, its good, its home. This is home.

ps. My wallet is gone, along with my drivers license, ATM and credit card, and all of the money from my last paycheck. I'm brilliant. I insist on carrying my wallet around everywhere with me, with a credit card with thousands of dollars on it, which I haven't used since I've been here, ATM I've only used once to replace a broken apple computer charger, in a city infamous for theives and petty crimes, in the open marketplace where I know I won't be spending more than $10. So these things happen, and its nobodys fault but my own. Just learn and live on. Yeah, it sucks (i'm really sorry dad).

Mr. Setha and Panhasith getting down to Decemberists

November 10

Aaron Weiss wrote this in a blog, probably years ago. It's simple, honest, I like it. It's called:

6 things
may I tell you a few unfortunate realizations?

I love my beliefs more than truth,
I care more about my "ideals" than I do my neighbor.
I care more about "I" than every "you" put together

but do you know what?

God is love
God is so forgiving
Jesus came for the sick

-----------------------------

I am happy I am here. I am here for a reason.
I've never had so much love in my heart.

November 8

8th grade math, as of today, I am teaching no more. And I honestly have never felt so relieved. What's ironic is the students that made life the hardest were the ones who objected most to letting me go. And I've come to the conclusion, that anywhere in the world, middle school students are generally the same: lazy, apathetic, insecure, and overall misdirected. I can't deny that I passed through those stages in my adolescence, or that my friends and I didn't act stupid just to blend into what we thought was normalcy. Even though this particular class ranged from ages 14 to 23 (education is a little different in Cambodia, and those ages were more evenly dispersed than you'd think), they all act seemed to act just about the same. But it didn't help that Cambodia cultures a society that determines age (over actions or attitude) as the measure of respect (and growing old is not a bad thing, a perk, I guess), and with my personality (putting me at a disadvantage in this situation, and not that I'm trying to justify my shortcomings as inherited personality traits), it was incredibly hard, and almost impossible, to motivate them, to cure them of their laziness, to stop them from cheating in every requested effort, and to get them to take me seriously. Don't get me wrong, they can be fun, a few of the students did actually expend tremenous effort in their work, and many grew to be my friends, but overall, with my grips on the class, I found my nose barely above the water, realizing, in the nights of losing sleep, my hair, and youth, that really, at 19 I shouldn't be spending 50% of my time worrying about the 1 class I teach in 8th grade, and the other half about the 5 others I teach to the 1st grade. The Bible says, you can't plant a tree one day and expect to see fruit the next. Growth and fruit that means something, that is real and deepy rooted, takes much of your lifetime to develop, and honestly, I just don't think I had the strength or ability or experience in me. And so, I went to Sharon (principal of CAS), and told her, that, being a volunteer, I was trying my best in vain to teach both age groups for the first time of my life (because really, both motivating and disciplining the two are worlds apart) and it wasn't going well, and she was wonderfully understanding, saying, "I can't believe you didn't come to me sooner....", which was a pleasant surprise. So after a night of no sleep, and continual prayer, a voice in my head (God, thank God!) gave me the epiphany, that one small adjustment for the rest of my year (so instead I am teaching 1st grade one more class at this time), was what I needed, not only to make things smoother and more enjoyable, but bearable.

Nonetheless, it couldn't have come at a worse time. Monday, they had their chapter 3 test, and Tuesday I handed it back out to show them their scores, where they give it back to me for me to destroy. One student, whom I know struggles, and has adapted the easiest solution, cheating, told me he couldn't find his test, that one moment he had it on his desk, he got up to do something, and the next it was nowhere to be found. After a quick search, I left the room, and next period told Sharon that I hadn't collected his test because we couldn't find it. She was pretty upset, as she believes 90% of Cambodians cheat (direct quote), and said that the only reason we couldn't find the test was because he was keeping it, or that somebody else had taken it to keep to give to a friend to cheat. The 8th graders were punished and couldn't eat lunch until the last 10 minutes of lunch period, and Sharon, had told them, "I was a new teacher, and I didn't know what to do in such a situation, so they needed to be extra careful..." which in turn, made me look irresponsible and unprofessional, even though I had asked this student 3 seperate times for his test back, and was not like the time, she had previously told me about, where the teacher forgot to pick up the test, but easily retrieved a few days later after one simple ask. Anyways, that same day, they found out I was not going to be their teacher next quarter, and students came up to me, "Why is teacher Sharon taking you away from us? Because you lost that one test...?" In all honesty, those few seconds, I wanted to leave it at that, and say I never told them so, but they assumed the reason at that, not because it was beyond my ability to spend both the day with 30 seven year old children and then a class with hormonal pre-teens, 5 days a week, and that they had won, or that I didn't like them and thought my life an improvement without them in it. And while Phalkun cried a bit, and other students said they wished I would stay, which made me feel better, overall change seems to be for the best. I'm not doing less, just changing it up, and I think I'm much better suited teaching elementary anyways. But I guess we'll have to wait til' next week to know for sure.

the wonderful, horrible infamous Veasna

November 4

Today, I wandered the streets searching for the fastest way to get to Tuol Kork market, and of course, I went the slowest and worst way possible, walking in circles for miles on end. My legs aching, I waited several seconds on a sheet of cracked plexi glass, trashed on the dusty road. Just thinking to myself, the only place I really want to go is up. Maybe the sheet will turn into a rocket or a magic carpet or a hover craft, and I can be just like Michael J. Fox, and blast on to the future, where I can look fondly back at the valuable year I spent in Cambodia, where I touched so many lives, and helped so many children break free from the chains of illiteracy. Not. And after those few moments of laziness and apathy (where you want the work to be done, but you just don't feel like being the one doing it) had passed, I bought toilet paper and some lemon juice, and spent the next half an hour, ruled by my horrible sense of direction, wandering roads that all looked to the same to me. I did buy Zenya from a street vender, and spoke only Khmer, buhn man? oh, pi poon prom? Nonethless, I was proud of myself, I am making progress. I am learning to take it one day at a time. I am learning it is okay to admit your limitations, to ask for help. When I returned to my apartment, Sengphor arrived minutes later, inviting me over to eat some duck curry they had made. Community is nice.

I am running out of ideas to do with my student Veasna. I took him to the office the other day, and carried him the whole way, out of the classroom, through the hallway, up the stairs, waiting out his horrible tantrum, tears literally wet on my arms, legs kicking, arms flailing, I was scared we might break through a wall in the third grade classroom, as they are horribly weak and thin. Sharon told me to keep a log book of all of the things he does in class, which if I had made a list in the past, would have included things such as: stealing from other students (money, school supplies), hitting, speaking bad words, attempting to choke others, using the middle finger, not to mention I can't keep him in his seat, he's always running around the room, and none of the other kids want to sit by him (and when I move his desk and start to move him by them, they say, literally, "No teacher, no, please, no Veasna!" and who knows all of the things he says that I can't even understand (another disfortunate factor in the language barrier). On Friday, he picked up the plastic stick from the dustpan, which is pretty thick and probably about 3 ft tall and started hitting girls with it like a baseball bat. And yet, the other day, he hugged me from behind, as he usually does, and I kiss him on the head most days (where his hair always smells like old meat) and Thida laughed and said aloud, "Veasna loves teacher!" And it was the highlight of my day. Maybe I can find a way to get through to him. I love my kids, I'd bend over backwards for any of them. And right now, I am laughing, out loud even, because I am lost, I am out of ideas, out of my mind.

November 1

everybody knows that life can be wonderful
47 reasons to be ecstatic (that i live in cambodia)

1. walking to school on quiet mornings
2. my wonderful, imaginative, good-spirited students
3. how my girls kiss me on a daily basis, and say, "teacher, me you kiss you one more!"
4. moto rides in the city, the wind blowing through my hair
5. mean, michevious monkeys in the park at wat phnom
6. psar toul thom poung (the russian market, packed with cheap clothes, pointless aesthetically-pleasing trinkets, rad art, etc.)
7. my kids dancing to black eyed peas "where is the love", or anytime any music is played
8. sweet chili sauce on everything!
9. fruit stands in the marketplace
10. mango smoothies at morning cafe
11. tom yum gai soup
12. our preferred teuk teuk driver whom we just call "jolly man", yes, he’s jolly
13. 7:00 worship at Rithy's, every night
14. my neighbors from Laos, 6 guys, close to my age (between 17-22), funny, inclusive, ridiculous, here in SE Asia, they’re some of my closest friends (they have all graduated from high school, but are students at CAS, doing a 2 year program, just focusing on learning English, enough to get into the adventist english college in Thailand)
15. the over-chlorinated (or something funky) swimming pool at the plaza hotel
16. elephants! they exist, and are around to see
17. that baguettes are the national bread of cambodia (and those baguette sandwich street venders)
18. rice, rice, rice
19. thai ice coffee (with condensed milk)
20. jump-roping with my kids
21. art class
22. those sneak attack hugs from behind (which I get from every student, all times of the day)
23. eggplant
24. Jars of Clay coffee shop
25. Occheuteal beach
26. cheap massages
27. the dead fish tower at Siem Reap
28. the fact that when I'm alone (without my Caucasian roomates), most locals speak to me in only Khmer; so the fact that I blend in alright, and am not stared at nearly as much as my roommates, or at all (and on a side note, they are not discreet at all and are devoid all tact)
29. Zenya (green tea and pomegranite, pronounced San-ja)
30. scarves, scarves, they're everywhere and cheap and sold in bright colors in beautiful fabric (I can’t help but wear them, even in this weather, yes)
31. pirated dvds (in every marketplace, where I can even find indie movies and tv show seasons for super cheap)
32. saturday night movie nights with my neighbors (Lao guys), they like comedies, action, and their favorite of all, romantic (serious), once they even looked at all of Ben and Kim’s wedding photos and sat around talking about how much they want to get married
33. Benjamin and Kim (some of the hardest-working and compassionate people I’ve ever known, not to mention talented, in seemingly effortless ways, i.e. music, cooking, communication)
34. eating out with Liz
35. Rambutan, asian pears, the good fruit over here
36. my reader/helper (from 8th grade) Rassmey
37. visiting churches in the provinces, that are basically houses on stilts, the church is a room with bamboo mats on the floor (i am still trying to get used to sitting indian style for hours on end without my legs falling asleep)
38. the fact that I almost run into cows on my bike, and I live in the city (why? I don’t care, such situations are so ridiculous, they turn whimsical, magical, odd yet endearing)
39. the gelato stand just outside of lucky market
40. the art gallery upstairs in “The Warehouse” in Siem Reap
41. the over the top (often horribly and wonderful creative) décor of the asian
42. lucky bakery (or any bakery over here)
43. exposing my children/students to (what I feel is) quality, creative music (the pompous pseudo-hipster speaks) with good response (sure 7 year olds would be fine with the radio clichés, but they do and are acknowledging that the good stuff, is, indeed, good)
44. the monumental smile of Ker San Sotha, he smiles with his whole body, (and I’m not just stealing from my favorite quote from High Fidelity), his eyes crinkle, his body bends, the kid dances to his own drum, he might just change the world
45. doing homework with Ly Chard after school, and just the fact, that, I know, the little guy just loves to be with me
46. imagining the possibilities for the lives of my kids
47. attempting to work, and getting free wireless, at tea&coffee cafe, tuol kork