Experience is the Best Teacher

Each year from grade 8 and upward, homeroom teachers guide their students on a trip to experience culture and serve others. Because I have a 8th graders in my homeroom, I went with several other teachers and the entire 8th grade (50 students) to Yogyakarta in Central Java (the island that I live on).

We took the train there, which was a long ride across flat rice fields for nearly 8 hours. The flat land and endless crops reminded me of the Illinois plains that I grew up surround by. When people drive through my home state they joke that it all looks the same: cornfield after endless cornfield. 

I must disagree. When each thing is the same you learn to spot the little differences. And it is the little things that cultivate your sense of home.

There in the endless, muddy rice fields, I felt more at home than I have in a long time. 

Even after 8 hours I felt it much too soon that we passed into the city and mountainy areas again. Once a country girl, always a country girl. But the city has its own charms, I must admit. 

The next day we left the hotel to go spend time with a school that we had partnered with. Part of the trip is learning how others live and these students did not come from the wealthy background that most of our students have. The students taught each other cultural games and they did crafts together. Then we taught them some English words, played more games, and worshiped together. 

One of the hardest things for our students we realizing their school did not have air conditioning. It barely had electricity to power some fans and lights. We were all pretty sweaty by the end of the day. 

Day two was about Javanese culture. We visited Borobudur temple (picture above). Which, I must admit, was even cooler than I expected. 

I felt like a movie star for just a bit as I was asked over a dozen times to have my picture taken with them. Some more nicely asked then others. I say no because if I say yes 12 more people want a photo with you and I was there to get my own photos and take in the amazing view. 

At the top, looking across at the mountains, I couldn't help but smile realizing this was my job. I get to experience the world with my students. I get to learn about different cultures and traditions and learn along side my middle schoolers. I have a pretty cool job.

Later that day, we attended a traditional Javanese dance with our partner school and the students learned how to cook traditional foods and make crafts. 

As a side note, you know you are a minority when the dancer in the scary mask asks for a picture with you. 

You can't tell but that day we also sweated a lot spending the whole day outside climbing temples and dancing. 

Mind you this is all during the school week. We took off class Tuesday through Friday to take our students on this trip. 

My job is pretty cool.

When others ask why did I decide to teach in Indonesia, beyond knowing I was called, I tell them it is about this. It is about getting to explore the world with my students in real and exciting ways. It is about tossing aside worries and actually living out my dreams (don't worry Mom, I haven't thrown all caution to the wind). There is just something very liberating about moving to the other side of the world that suddenly makes all of my other dreams seem more than just dreams.

I don't dream of exploring the world any more.

I plan on it. 

(Last week I finally learned how to count to five, so here you go!) Bahasa words:

One: satu

Two: dua

Three: tiga

Four: empat

Five: lima

-Rachael

Semester 1: That's a wrap!

So much has happened to me since July that I almost can't process it all. I knew moving to another country, to another culture, and to a new profession would be a huge change for me. I would like to say I took it all in stride, confidently meeting the challenges that befell me.

But that would be a lie.

Instead, I feel incredibly humbled as being a first-year teacher in a new place means facing failure on a daily bases. From remembering the names of all 83 of my students to remembering parts of the lesson plan that I crafted so carefully the week before, I never go a day without thinking "Oh shoot! I forgot..." or at least "I could have directed that lesson so much better if..."

The first year of teaching is always the hardest and is rather difficult to explain to someone who has not gone through it. As my 7th graders are learning about figurative language this week, I will give you a metaphor on what first year teaching is like.

The first year of teaching can be compared using a stapler. Imagine, you are someone who has never used a stapler. You have seen staples holding papers together and have theorized on how they got there but you have never seen or used a stapler. Then one day, someone asks you to go into their desk drawer, find their stapler, and replace the staples.

As someone who knows what a stapler is, and how to use it, I can say I struggle enough trying to replace staples in a new stapler because each can be a little different. Now imagine having no concept of a stapler.

That is a lot what first year teaching is like. You see the end product, the stapled paper (the information the students must learn), but you are rather unsure how it got there. And to make things more complicated, there is only one way to load a stapler, but there are many ways to teach a lesson. What is right for one teacher may be wrong for another. I can not simply follow another's lesson plan or even copy another teacher. I must find what works for me and my class.

Each class is also different, with different personalities and abilities. Different grade levels demand different strategies and I teach three grades.

I don't mean to complain, or in any way say my job is too hard or unfair. It is a challenge, one I knew I was signing up for when I decided to become a teacher. It tests me each day to see just how far I can stretch myself. A common joke we have at the end of the day is that we "have no more words" as if to say we have thought too hard, made too many decisions, and now we can't produce more ideas. It is quite funny if I go out with some of my teacher friends on a work day because we have trouble picking a restaurant as none of us want to make any more decisions. They say teachers make more minute by minute decisions than brain surgeons. My job is constantly testing me.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Boredom is no longer a word in my vocabulary and for that I am grateful. I am nearly never idle. Even at home, while cleaning or cooking I am thinking about how to rearrange my classroom so certain students won't talk to each other. I am thinking about the next day's lesson and how I might present it better or if I need more visual aids. I question the decisions I made that day and how I might do it better next year. To rest is a treat and I saver my holidays like fine chocolate.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

I find I thrive on challenge. It gives me a real sense of accomplishment to know that each day I am doing something I have never done before. Each day is a surprise, a question mark that by the end will often be an exclamation mark.

I may be the teacher, yet I often feel I am the one doing the most learning. I have to be the most creative one, the one with all the answers, the one who can solve all the problems. I fall short, of course, nearly every day. Yet I walk home knowing I can try again tomorrow.

And try I shall because I won't have it any other way.

Bahasa words:

Try: Berusaha

Teach: Mengajar

Tea: Teh

-Rachael

Singapore: When Worlds Collide

  

So I am an American, living in Indonesian, visiting a park in Singapore where I heard a South Korean singing group practice an Italian Opera.

That is Singapore in a nutshell; the place where cultures collide.

The above picture is just a taste of the language diversity. While everything is listed in English, you can see the “way out” listed in Mandarin first because this was the Chinatown exit of the MRT or
underground train system that can get you close to just about everywhere in Singapore for about one US dollar. Most things are actually listed in four languages: English, Mandarin, Bahasa, and Hindi. The last three accommodate the three largest people groups: Chinese, Native Singaporeans, and Indians.

I never thought I would love any city the way I have come to love Singapore. From the polite British voice that reminds me to “Mind the gap” on the MRT to the western restaurants that have helped me get over my homesickness. While Indonesians can make rice amazing in a hundred different ways, they don’t really understand bread. Or sandwiches. I think I ate at Subway 6 of the 7 days I was there.

But when I wasn’t enjoying real bread I spent my time reading in cafes. In the week there I finished 3 books. I miss the quiet moments when the world slows down for me to get absorbed into another world. Rest for the mind and the soul. Everyone needs that every now and then but teachers especially.

I also enjoy Singapore because I am not such a minority there. Many westerners visit and live there. In Indonesian being Bulia (a white person) is a lot like being famous because we are such a minority. Everywhere I go people stare at me and want to take pictures with me (or in some cases not so sneakily try to take a picture with me in the background). I never understood what a struggle it is to not look like everyone else. I don’t really feel uncomfortable about it, it is just a reminder that everywhere I go I clearly do not come from there. It is almost hard for me to imagine now going back to the states where I am a majority and not having random people almost get in car accidents just because they are staring at me.

And if you haven’t already, check out this awesome culture day my school puts on every year where I got to dress up and dance a traditional dance! If you don’t have time for the whole thing my dance starts at minute 42. https://youtu.be/oKY3YXyMeBc

Indonesian (Bahasa) words:

Home: rumah

Sleep: tidur

Night: malam

-Rachael