My World Lit students wrote memoirs, inspired by Amy Tan's novel The Joy Luck Club. Each wrote one story about an adult influencing them, and one story about a key moment in that adult's life. I'm posting excerpts from a few of my favorites.
“When I was a child, Superman was my hero. I would wait all day in front of the television to watch Justice League on Cartoon Network. Whenever Superman appeared, my breath would stop because of his awe-inspiring appearance. Whenever I saw him flying around, shooting laser beams that came out of his eyes and fighting off the bad guys with his super-speed and strength, I would feel my heart wildly pumping boiling blood throughout my body. Superman’s mere presence stunned me.
As a child, I thought that Superman had no equals, but if I’d had to choose a person who was more “super” than Superman, I would have confidently said “mom” without giving a second thought. She possessed a superpower that even Superman did not have. Her cooking abilities were beyond the measure of human abilities. Believe it or not, not only did she cook good-tasting foods, but also her foods were good-looking, good-smelling, and even good-sounding. She was the strongest woman I knew. Whenever we went to the grocery store, she would have no trouble lifting up and carrying all the plastic bags of fruits and vegetables that I did not even attempt to make budge. She would ceaselessly work all day and would never get sick. To me, Mom was indestructible, just like Superman.
However, the earth-shattering reality struck me when I was nine years old. I awoke to my mom’s loud and sorrowful cry...”
Friday, April 29, 2011
Momentous Memoirs #3
My World Lit students wrote memoirs, inspired by Amy Tan's novel The Joy Luck Club. Each wrote one story about an adult influencing them, and one story about a key moment in that adult's life. I'm posting excerpts from a few of my favorites.
This student is describing her first-ever trip from her Cambodian province to the capitol, Phnom Penh. It ended unexpectedly for her.
“Ten days passed, and Mom told me that it was time for her to return to the province. I was excited, but there was a strange look on her face. She then walked into the room and packed all her clothes, not mine. I stood by the door observing her every movement. I anticipated something was going to happen, yet I tried not to guess. Mom beckoned me to enter the room. I sat down beside her and stared at her anxiously.
‘Umm...[Name], we have decided that you’re going to stay here with this family,' Mom said softly. ‘I believe that it is best for you, especially since you can go to school more easily.’ Tears streamed down from my eyes. I hoped this was not real. No, not real, but a dream. I wanted to say something, yet whenever I opened my mouth, I felt as if a hard lump stuck in my throat. Only a sobbing sound came out. The humidity in the room seemed to radically increase. My palms and fingers became damp, and I thought this burden was too heavy for me. How could I ever handle it?
After a whole night of tears and restlessness, the morning came. I held tightly to Mom’s arms. ‘Mom, take me with you,’ I pleaded with tears. ‘I don’t want to stay here! I want to go home!’ Mom acted as if she did not hear and turned her face away. I knew she was crying and did not want me to see it. She climbed on a motodop with her back to me. When the driver started his engine, I cried louder and louder. [...] I was running behind the moto, when all of a sudden I felt two strong arms grab me from behind. My uncle would not let go of my hands. Mom went out of sight, making my body feel like an empty container.”
This student is describing her first-ever trip from her Cambodian province to the capitol, Phnom Penh. It ended unexpectedly for her.
“Ten days passed, and Mom told me that it was time for her to return to the province. I was excited, but there was a strange look on her face. She then walked into the room and packed all her clothes, not mine. I stood by the door observing her every movement. I anticipated something was going to happen, yet I tried not to guess. Mom beckoned me to enter the room. I sat down beside her and stared at her anxiously.
‘Umm...[Name], we have decided that you’re going to stay here with this family,' Mom said softly. ‘I believe that it is best for you, especially since you can go to school more easily.’ Tears streamed down from my eyes. I hoped this was not real. No, not real, but a dream. I wanted to say something, yet whenever I opened my mouth, I felt as if a hard lump stuck in my throat. Only a sobbing sound came out. The humidity in the room seemed to radically increase. My palms and fingers became damp, and I thought this burden was too heavy for me. How could I ever handle it?
After a whole night of tears and restlessness, the morning came. I held tightly to Mom’s arms. ‘Mom, take me with you,’ I pleaded with tears. ‘I don’t want to stay here! I want to go home!’ Mom acted as if she did not hear and turned her face away. I knew she was crying and did not want me to see it. She climbed on a motodop with her back to me. When the driver started his engine, I cried louder and louder. [...] I was running behind the moto, when all of a sudden I felt two strong arms grab me from behind. My uncle would not let go of my hands. Mom went out of sight, making my body feel like an empty container.”
Momentous Memoirs #2
My World Lit students wrote memoirs, inspired by Amy Tan's novel The Joy Luck Club. Each wrote one story about an adult influencing them, and one story about a key moment in that adult's life. I'm posting excerpts from a few of my favorites.
This student's mom left her family to move to Cambodia, desperate to find a better job and offer her girls a good education. It was a stab in the dark. The story is told from the mom's perspective.
“It was a couple of days later and I was sitting in the office of the interviewer, a charming British man with a welcoming smile. [...] At one point, he did not reply and an awkward silence hung in the air for what felt like an eternity.
‘You’re hired,’ he said with a big smile.
The relief that crashed over me at that moment almost brought me to tears. I stood up, thanked him, and shook his hand, trying to be professional, but inside, I was on the verge of screaming in celebration.
As soon as the door clicked closed, I threw my hands in the air, dancing a victory dance on the spot. After twenty-eight long days of waiting and refusing to give up, I was finally employed, and in a job that would pay me more in forty-five days than what I would normally earn in two years back in the Philippines.
Hands still shaking, I picked up my cell phone and dialed home. Looks like all the sweat and tears had finally paid off.”
This student's mom left her family to move to Cambodia, desperate to find a better job and offer her girls a good education. It was a stab in the dark. The story is told from the mom's perspective.
“It was a couple of days later and I was sitting in the office of the interviewer, a charming British man with a welcoming smile. [...] At one point, he did not reply and an awkward silence hung in the air for what felt like an eternity.
‘You’re hired,’ he said with a big smile.
The relief that crashed over me at that moment almost brought me to tears. I stood up, thanked him, and shook his hand, trying to be professional, but inside, I was on the verge of screaming in celebration.
As soon as the door clicked closed, I threw my hands in the air, dancing a victory dance on the spot. After twenty-eight long days of waiting and refusing to give up, I was finally employed, and in a job that would pay me more in forty-five days than what I would normally earn in two years back in the Philippines.
Hands still shaking, I picked up my cell phone and dialed home. Looks like all the sweat and tears had finally paid off.”
Momentous Memoirs #1
I wasn't sure how my World Lit students would take Amy Tan's novel The Joy Luck Club. It's about Asian-Americans, yes, but specifically about women and their moms, and about their many forms of dissatisfaction. I hoped they could see past the angst and the feminism to the lyrical writing, vivid storytelling, and powerful use of everyday events to explore profound truths about relationships. I think they did.
As we read, we wrote our own memoirs (myself included). Each wrote one story about an adult influencing them, and one story about a key moment in that adult's life. Students interviewed those adults - mostly their parents - and used the interviews as a launching point to explore some themes in their own families.
My students blew me away with the stories they uncovered and their analysis of why those stories mattered. It's only been a month since I was groaning over their research papers, but here in narratives, many were in their element. I'd like to share with you a few highlights. I chose four outstanding writers from four different Asian countries, none of them native English speakers. Even many students with much lower English abilities had really poignant and vivid moments in their stories. Next draft, theirs will be fantastic! I loved, too, glimpsing their perspectives as Asians and Third Culture Kids.
Here's one girl's introduction:
“My mother calls me ‘con trâu cùa nhà.’ She says it in Vietnamese and occasionally introduces me that way. Translated into English, I am “the water buffalo of the house.” My personality mirrors that of the water buffalo, as did my mother’s, her mother’s, and her mother’s mother’s. I come from a race of water buffalos. The Vietnamese buffalo is known as a dedicated and extremely hard worker, toiling despite suffering. On the flip side, buffalos are also known for their brashness, carelessness, and destruction. My mother called me a water buffalo because I was breaking the glass in the house, spilling cups, and being blamed for broken things, even things I did not break! Someday, people will call me a water buffalo not because I destroy, but because I will be as hard a worker as my mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother...”
As we read, we wrote our own memoirs (myself included). Each wrote one story about an adult influencing them, and one story about a key moment in that adult's life. Students interviewed those adults - mostly their parents - and used the interviews as a launching point to explore some themes in their own families.
My students blew me away with the stories they uncovered and their analysis of why those stories mattered. It's only been a month since I was groaning over their research papers, but here in narratives, many were in their element. I'd like to share with you a few highlights. I chose four outstanding writers from four different Asian countries, none of them native English speakers. Even many students with much lower English abilities had really poignant and vivid moments in their stories. Next draft, theirs will be fantastic! I loved, too, glimpsing their perspectives as Asians and Third Culture Kids.
Here's one girl's introduction:
“My mother calls me ‘con trâu cùa nhà.’ She says it in Vietnamese and occasionally introduces me that way. Translated into English, I am “the water buffalo of the house.” My personality mirrors that of the water buffalo, as did my mother’s, her mother’s, and her mother’s mother’s. I come from a race of water buffalos. The Vietnamese buffalo is known as a dedicated and extremely hard worker, toiling despite suffering. On the flip side, buffalos are also known for their brashness, carelessness, and destruction. My mother called me a water buffalo because I was breaking the glass in the house, spilling cups, and being blamed for broken things, even things I did not break! Someday, people will call me a water buffalo not because I destroy, but because I will be as hard a worker as my mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother...”
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Go, go, Joe!
Have you ever tried to pull off a musical with a high school student body of 90? Also, you live in a developing country? Yeah, I haven't either. Logos has performed several plays, but never attempted a musical. So I was a bit skeptical when I heard about plans to perform "Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat" this spring. But with two weeks left till showtime, it's been fascinating to see the team overcome challenges.
Challenge 1: The small pool of students means they have less time. These are the same kids who are on the basketball team after school, who tutor elementary students, who are studying their butts off in both our AP courses. The Korean missionary kids spend practically their entire weekend at church. The Khmer kids have family obligations involving large blocks of time. They can't just drop everything for a musical.
Solution 1: Make it nearly mandatory for students to join. There's only one other class - I.T. - offered in the same time slot, so about 80% of the high school is involved somehow in the production. Students do most of their prep during a normal class period, with occasional outside practices scheduled around sports.
Challenge 2: The small pool of students also means they have less talent. Remember that guy who got the part because he could act, but whose voice cracked on the high notes? Yeah, me too.
Solution 2: Get the choir to help. A few major characters sing solos, but most either speak their lines or sing along with the choir. Even the middle school choir is singing a few of the songs. We've also made a few changes to the script, like dividing the narrator's part into three, so that no one girl has to carry such a heavy load. Also, we've got the Korean factor. Those kids are musical! Not only do we have an outstanding lead, we even have a very capable understudy.
Challenge 3: The drama teacher, Erin, has her hands full. She's also the yearbook adviser and art teacher for grades 4-12. She doesn't have time to singlehandedly direct a musical. Also, she never directed a play until last year, so she lacks the experience to teach all aspects.
Solution 3: Enlist other teachers' support. Lesley, the librarian/elementary-middle school music teacher, has handled lots of logistical details and overall coordination. Megan, the high school choir teacher, is obviously quite involved. Others are less obvious choices: first-grade teacher Sarah is in charge of costumes, with help from expert seamstresses Suzanne and Tirai (aka ESL teacher and 4th grade TA). Dani, who teaches mostly math and PE, was supposed to teach health the same period as drama and choir. The first day of class, they decided to cancel health and add her to drama, since she has extensive dance experience. She's now choreographed and taught all the dances. It takes a village...
Challenge 4: We're in Cambodia! The resources available here are hit-or-miss, hidden, and quite different from what's available in the US.
Solution 4: Flexibility and perseverance. If we can't find leather jackets, why not change them to traditional Khmer wedding jackets? The girls' hoop skirts get their oomph from wicker hula hoops. It turns out that a cyclo (bike-pulled carriage) works pretty well as a chariot. Sometimes being here is a great advantage: using scrap material and a tailor, we got Joseph's incredible coat made for only $30. Sarah and Erin have spent every weekend scouring the markets for bargains and elusive props.
Challenge 5: Asian students. They can't visualize colors like "ochre" and "mauve," and have no idea what a "juicy tidbit" is, or how to dance a hoedown. Most have never danced, period, besides maybe imitating K-pop videos. Many have never heard a Southern or French accent, let alone practiced them, and a few have pretty thick accents of their own.
Solution 5: Treat it as a learning experience, of course! I got them up to par on the French accent - my one contribution. They've dived into the dancing and expanded their vocabulary. We're also adding some Asian elements...they can do a pretty mean Korean fan dance. And their hoedown moves are getting better and better.
I don't know what further challenges await them, but I know that staff and students alike are committed to excellence. I can't wait to witness the final product!
Challenge 1: The small pool of students means they have less time. These are the same kids who are on the basketball team after school, who tutor elementary students, who are studying their butts off in both our AP courses. The Korean missionary kids spend practically their entire weekend at church. The Khmer kids have family obligations involving large blocks of time. They can't just drop everything for a musical.
Solution 1: Make it nearly mandatory for students to join. There's only one other class - I.T. - offered in the same time slot, so about 80% of the high school is involved somehow in the production. Students do most of their prep during a normal class period, with occasional outside practices scheduled around sports.
Challenge 2: The small pool of students also means they have less talent. Remember that guy who got the part because he could act, but whose voice cracked on the high notes? Yeah, me too.
Solution 2: Get the choir to help. A few major characters sing solos, but most either speak their lines or sing along with the choir. Even the middle school choir is singing a few of the songs. We've also made a few changes to the script, like dividing the narrator's part into three, so that no one girl has to carry such a heavy load. Also, we've got the Korean factor. Those kids are musical! Not only do we have an outstanding lead, we even have a very capable understudy.
Challenge 3: The drama teacher, Erin, has her hands full. She's also the yearbook adviser and art teacher for grades 4-12. She doesn't have time to singlehandedly direct a musical. Also, she never directed a play until last year, so she lacks the experience to teach all aspects.
Solution 3: Enlist other teachers' support. Lesley, the librarian/elementary-middle school music teacher, has handled lots of logistical details and overall coordination. Megan, the high school choir teacher, is obviously quite involved. Others are less obvious choices: first-grade teacher Sarah is in charge of costumes, with help from expert seamstresses Suzanne and Tirai (aka ESL teacher and 4th grade TA). Dani, who teaches mostly math and PE, was supposed to teach health the same period as drama and choir. The first day of class, they decided to cancel health and add her to drama, since she has extensive dance experience. She's now choreographed and taught all the dances. It takes a village...
Challenge 4: We're in Cambodia! The resources available here are hit-or-miss, hidden, and quite different from what's available in the US.
Solution 4: Flexibility and perseverance. If we can't find leather jackets, why not change them to traditional Khmer wedding jackets? The girls' hoop skirts get their oomph from wicker hula hoops. It turns out that a cyclo (bike-pulled carriage) works pretty well as a chariot. Sometimes being here is a great advantage: using scrap material and a tailor, we got Joseph's incredible coat made for only $30. Sarah and Erin have spent every weekend scouring the markets for bargains and elusive props.
Challenge 5: Asian students. They can't visualize colors like "ochre" and "mauve," and have no idea what a "juicy tidbit" is, or how to dance a hoedown. Most have never danced, period, besides maybe imitating K-pop videos. Many have never heard a Southern or French accent, let alone practiced them, and a few have pretty thick accents of their own.
Solution 5: Treat it as a learning experience, of course! I got them up to par on the French accent - my one contribution. They've dived into the dancing and expanded their vocabulary. We're also adding some Asian elements...they can do a pretty mean Korean fan dance. And their hoedown moves are getting better and better.
I don't know what further challenges await them, but I know that staff and students alike are committed to excellence. I can't wait to witness the final product!
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Mondulkiri
Chickens in the trees. Cats on the bar.
Cows under the floor.
The Nature Lodge, in Mondulkiri, isn’t your typical Cambodian guesthouse. Run by a Khmer guy and his Israeli wife, it’s a sanctuary of blissful rest that aims for “whimsical” rather than “luxurious.” For example, the bathrooms adjacent to each cabin only have half a roof, with trees and bushes protruding from the bright blue cement floor. The sink and shower drain directly to the garden.
The owners live right next to the cabins.
My friend Emily and I spent the last four days there during our break for Khmer New Year, when most Cambodians visit relatives in the provinces. Mondulkiri is a tiny town in the hills, with more wind and less heat than nearly anywhere else in Cambodia. April is the peak of hot season, though it’s been mild this year, and so Mondulkiri was wonderfully refreshing.
As its name suggests, the Nature Lodge is not downtown, but on a hill overlooking town. Every morning I woke up early and climbed the hill, marveling at the chance to be totally alone outside. I needed the reminder that Cambodia truly is a beautiful country – I hadn’t left Phnom Penh since early January. Mondulkiri brought back treasured memories of growing up in Vermont.
Our plans weren’t big. We took a tour of nearby waterfalls, entertained along the way by a very affable motodup driver. We walked into town. We toured an orchard and coffee plantation. It was enough.
On Thursday, our plans for an outing fell through, and I enjoyed a whole day of reading and relaxing. Since our room didn’t have a fan, I opted for the restaurant in the Nature Lodge, which had better air flow. Devoid of guests most of the day, only the staff remained: that couple, their adorable year-old daughter Lila, their two young nephews, and a few others. I’d already talked with most of them, and was glad to be around them more.
Cambodians are generally a friendly and easygoing bunch, but these seemed to have a nearly tangible joy and warmth. The girl watching Lila patiently helped me practice Khmer. Lila’s mom, Sheery, told me about the band playing in the background – Dengue Fever – and their sweet fusion of traditional Khmer music and psychedelic rock. Her Singaporean neighbor asked me about Killer Bunnies, the crazy card game Emily and I had played at dinner the night before. The nephews tickled Lila, joked around, fiddled with the playlists. I felt so at home with them, even when I was just reading in the corner.
The restaurant was built around/into some remarkable trees.I work all the time. It’s a struggle not to do schoolwork on Sundays, though I need the day off for mental health. I worked straight through the March holiday, and even Thursday, I spent a few hours writing review questions. I’ve come to terms with being very busy all the time for now – it’s quite normal for new teachers.
Still, I hope that “I’m busy” and “Work is important” aren’t the main things I communicate to others. Whether or not I’m not savoring lush scenery or indulging in a good book, my life has so many sources of delight. No matter the length of my to-do list, I want to exude warmth and contentment like I saw in Mondulkiri.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Grace like rain
The courtyard looked festive for last year's grand opening -
on Friday it held another form of festivities!
On Friday, April 1, shortly after lunch, Operation Grace Like Rain commenced. The brainchild of my roommate Erin, with help from Megan and me, it had the support of nearly the entire middle/high school faculty – about 12 teachers.
It started with buckets of water being filled and placed strategically. Then Bonnie, the guidance counselor, made an announcement over the intercom: “Would all high school students please report outside the office.” Our hallways are open-air, so just outside the main office is the school courtyard and playground. Some were a bit suspicious and tried to hover on the steps, protected by the awning. But Bonnie is not one to be messed with, and in her lecture, she sounded ANGRY. She told students she was fed up with bullying issues. “I have a student crying in my office who never wants to return! This is unacceptable. Your punishment will be a wet shower.” With that, four of us charged from around the corners –Danielle and Erin from near the art room, Elaine and I from the pool area. (We were wearing snazzy lifejackets from the PreK swimming class, if you were wondering.) We yelled and tossed water over everyone as five other teachers dumped water from the cafeteria overhead. It was amazing.
Soon, students and teachers were running around chasing each other, trying to throw flour. Before I knew it, I was being thrown in the pool, along with Danielle and Erin. The pool dunkings grew to encompass teachers all the way on the fourth floor as students charged the building looking for more culprits. Somewhere along the line, students also became each other’s victims, with about ¼ of the student body going under.
After about twenty minutes, we all headed back upstairs to class. (Thankfully it was my planning period!) I helped girls figure out how to wring out their wet clothes so they could type their history projects without flooding the computer lab. I grinned as dozens of students took in my soaked, disheveled appearance. “Ms. COOPER!” I dried off my blouse and capris as best I could, thankful for their dark color and my invincible Old Navy flip-flops. Then I sat down to finish planning 9th grade English.
When the 9th graders came in, I told them it was back to business. We quizzed each other on characters from The Odyssey, discussed heroic qualities of Odysseus and Penelope, debated Homer’s portrayal of women. Wet or not, we only had 90 minutes to review for the test the following class. And review we did!
I love my school.
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