Field Trip?!?

There's a simple equation that every student teacher learns:
First-year teacher
+ Field Trip
__________________
Failure

OK, so I made that up, but it seems logical. There are plenty of variables to manage in the classroom; leaving the school multiplies them by about 50. So when my dear friend and fellow BBC period drama lover Suzanne Johnson suggested incorporating a tour of Vissot Food Corporation, I knew I was out of my league, but I was intrigued by the challenge.

Field trips are hard to come by here. Dan, the principal, encourages us to take students on trips whenever possible, even if it's a non-traditional destination. There's a zoo that's a bit frightening for animal lovers, a water park that lends itself to causing open wounds, an art museum composed almost exclusively of ancient statues of Buddha. Performances and exhibits are relatively rare; movie theaters only show horror films.

So our trips tend to be a bit creative. So far this year, various Logos students have gone to: a Christian-run village for AIDS orphans and elderly widows, the genocide museum, a remote village near the Thai border, and a brothel. Yes, you read that last one correctly. The Service Leadership class sent its girls to a brothel (one of three just down the street from the old campus) to distribute leaflets in Khmer about God's love to the workers. So, comparatively speaking, it seemed normal to go to a factory for an English field trip.

Vissot is a Cambodian-owned health food company, started by the Seventh-Day Adventist church about 10 years ago. Their original product, the delectable Peanut Crumble cookie, is composed of two round crunchy cookies (peanuts and cane sugar baked together) fused together with their all-natural peanut butter. It's available at most grocery stores here. They've since expanded their line to include various jams, curry pastes, rice snacks, and granolas. They employ mostly students and disadvantaged women, seeking to give them a leg up. Suzanne loves to sing their praises, and our colleague Sokcha (the physics/math teacher) once worked in peanut quality control for them. It's located between my house and the school, in my neighborhood of Toul Kork.

I realized that as part of the 8th grade nonfiction unit, we could do a "complex process" paper describing the journey of various products from farms to stores. So I scheduled a visit, handed out permission slips, booked a van, and had students brainstorm prior knowledge and questions about the production process. (That was a revelation: one pair, trying to guess the ingredients in jam, could only come up with "powder." They were shocked to learn it had real fruit.) We were told that since the plant is small, half of the 25 students would tour, while the other half sat outside (in the 2 PM sun) and asked questions of a Vissot representative. As a treat, I let students pre-order smoothies and iced coffees from Sovannary's restaurant for their outside segment. We had them all lined up to arrive when students were outside. I scoped out the factory in advance and clarified expectations with students twice. Sounds organized? Not really. I was a mess trying to figure out these few factors and how to use wisely the mere hour between departure and return. (The vans had to be back early for school dismissal, or we'd have had 90 minutes.)

The day of the field trip, one student said he'd lost his permission slip and hadn't gotten another. Could he just have his brother sign for him? After all, they'd lived together without their parents all last year. One of the girls had a signed form, but I didn't ask who signed it: probably her house helper, because her parents live outside the country. At least one other student was here without his parents for a month in the fall. Permission slips don't seem to fit Cambodia.

I also got a call from the guy who had arranged the vans for me. "Did you mean next Thursday? You told me 11:30 and you're still not out here." (I had watched him write down the real departure time, 1:40.) Thankfully, the vans were still available.

When we arrived at the factory, several minutes late, they wanted everyone to take the tour at once. By the time my students got their drinks (I felt so bad bringing them inside!), found a seat, and waited for the PR guy to begin, it was 2:15. We jammed in there while a hesitant PR rep gave his first-ever student tour. "Tour" is a stretch - we couldn't go near the machines without special gear, so we looked through the glass from a waiting area the size of my bedroom.

After that, we split into our two groups for student questions. They barked out the questions they'd written in class, sounding like journalists. At least my tour guide was Australian and had the upper hand over them in English fluency, unlike the Khmer tour guide in the other group. Students in my group were respectful and attentive; the other group needed some redirecting. But they all thought it was cool that the peanut butter doesn't actually have butter (or even oil) - just ground peanuts and salt. And watching the workers stamp the round cookies held their attention for at least 30 seconds. At 2:45, they were surprised we had to leave already. (Which is good, I guess, that it wasn't too long, although using the first 15 minutes might have been nice.) On Monday, we'll talk about showing respect to those with faltering English and acknowledging the greatness of what Vissot is doing.

So, with my first field trip under my belt, I think I can safely claim it as a learning experience, at least for myself. I learned that "paper wars" are really exciting for 8th graders in vans. I learned that 1 hour is not enough time for a trip anywhere, even one mile away. I learned that if I want strangers to work together, I need to clarify expectations a zillion times more than seems necessary to me. And I learned that Suzanne can put magic and perspective into anything. Most of all, I was reminded that what you want students to learn and what they actually learn are not always the same, and sometimes that's OK.

Chimps, Piranhas, and Tarantulas, Oh My!

My trip to Thailand between Christmas and New Years was delightful! See photos here.

The Notorious Bong Nath

Sarah with Bong Nath and her family

I finally got to meet her this week. For months I've heard stories about this woman, known for her perseverance and boldness that are sometimes beautiful and sometimes aggravating. I don't understand everything about her, but she embodies a lot of my questions and musings.

Last Sunday, I visited the Khmer-language Bible study Sarah's been attending at Bong Nath's (pronounced Bong Not) house. While Sarah taught the kids and led a Christmas program for them, I sat with Bong Nath and others, looking at photos of her kids growing up. Then I gave them a small talk on Luke 3, the Christmas story, which Bong Nath's daughter Samedi translated. Bong Nath was a gracious hostess as always, cooking a big pot of mouthwatering chicken curry with rice noodles and French bread. (The surviving chickens ran around us during the whole Bible study, as we sat in a circle just outside her house.) She sent us home with leftovers, as well as several mangos and two pumpkins that she had grown.

Bong Nath is connected to Logos in that she used to cook and clean for several of the teachers. She's been unemployed since they moved back, and is fighting hard for another job (she gave me her CV to pass along to friends). She's a master at networking, and knows a Khmer TA well, in addition to a number of teachers and students still at Logos. Her family is among the poorest in Phnom Penh - they have two rooms in their house with walls made of scrap tin, and they have often lived hand-to-mouth, including likely right now.

I asked Bong Nath about her faith story, and instead heard a rambling 20-minute tale involving her family's many years of dire poverty. It was in the midst of fruitless job hunts, wandering door-to-door with her CV, that Bong Nath stumbled onto her first Christian church service in the 1990s. The white missionary leading the meeting agreed to hire her in his home, and at some point Bong Nath accepted Christ. Since then, foreign Christians have been directly involved in every good thing in her life. Through them, she's received a steady income for a while at several different jobs, Bible teaching, training in cooking and medical work, scholarships for her two sons (now 8 and 10) at a modest Khmer-language school (public schools are essentially worthless here), and trips to the countryside for her teenage daughters. She's grateful, and proudly showed photos of all the expats she's gotten to know over the years.

Without knowing those foreigners, I doubt that Bong Nath's four kids would have all survived until now. So it's not too surprising that Bong Nath has grown to rely on foreigners for everything she needs. When Samedi graduated high school last year, Bong Nath dreamed of her attending an American university for medicine. A generous and dedicated former Logos teacher arranged for sponsorship at a local Cambodian nursing school, but Bong Nath was not satisfied. She began to rant against this woman, and against the missionaries currently leading a Bible study in her home, who made it clear that they would not give her money. She eventually told them they couldn't lead that Bible study there anymore, causing a split in members.

Now her Bible study consists mostly of non-Christian and new Christian neighbors. It's a neat opportunity, and she's fighting hard for a foreigner to come lead it. (She told me at least a dozen times that I should come every week and teach, despite my flat refusals.) But many Westerners are drained by her incessant "prayer requests" for a job, a scholarship, money, a better life. There's no guarantee that the new teacher wouldn't be similarly kicked out once Bong Nath realizes they won't be her financial savior. Sarah has avoided most such inquiries by explaining that she is paying college loans - a difficult concept for Bong Nath, who pictures everyone having sponsors as her children do.

It makes me wonder: how do you help someone with practical needs in a way that embodies the Gospel instead of replacing it? I think Bong Nath really does love Jesus. She's devoted to other Bible study members and compassionate about their personal struggles. Neighbors know, when they're in need (as they often are), she'll help them if at all possible. But many Khmer and expat Christians have confronted her about trusting rich people rather than God for her finances.

It's hard to deny that for her, as for many Christians, conversion to Christianity has brought significant economic opportunity. In modern Cambodia, where getting a job is all about who you know, her Christian faith is still one of the most marketable things about Bong Nath. Is that a bad thing? Is it always better to give to an impersonal organization than to someone you know? Because the Bible is pretty clear about Christians' responsibility to help when we see someone in need (Isaiah 58, Matthew 25). And it seems hypocritical for someone comparatively wealthy to sing praise songs next to Bong Nath in church while her kids faint from hunger. So what's the answer?

Thankfully, Bong Nath's behavior is not typical among Cambodians. I've heard that many Cambodians' faith in God's provision puts expat missionaries to shame. But the vast economic divide between Cambodians and expats, even those on missions support, creates a dangerous imbalance of power. It takes a lot of wisdom to help Cambodians without creating dependence. It's a question as old as colonialism, but one I certainly haven't figured out. For now, I'm dodging the question by not giving directly to anyone.

Isn't it beautiful?

I love the new school! Everyone does, really. I'll try to get pictures of my new classroom on here once it's set up. I should've taken pictures of my old one before dismantling it! The new one is about double the size. Click here to see photos (not mine, sorry) of the new school.

And here are photos from the elementary and middle/high school Christmas concerts!

Who Needs Normal?

Logos is not normal, as any of my students will tell you. (Most have transferred here.) In so many ways, Logos is an anomaly. It is unusual by any standard I can think of, in any culture. And after a semester, I'm still astounded by it.

Logos is a place full of students from broken families, from adoptive families, from single-parent families, from non-nuclear families. (Non-nuclear is normal here: living with your aunt or grandpa doesn't mean that your parents are totally absent or have passed away, although that's the case for some students.) I have students who live by themselves and students who might as well live by themselves because their parents work nonstop. I have students who have witnessed a murder, been kidnapped for ransom money, been a victim of rape, whose birth moms worked in prostitution. Then I also have students from super-inspirational missionary families, whose parents have done incredible things.

Logos is a place of privilege and financial need. One student's dad is close to Prime Minister Hun Sen. I have students whose families have their own chauffeurs, who stay at luxury hotels during their trips to Hong Kong and Bangkok, whose homes clearly fall into the "mansion" category. And I have students who have never taken a vacation, for whom $3 shirts at Russian Market seem exorbitant, whose recent grocery trips have come back a little lighter than they'd like. One of my co-workers used to work on an assembly line at a garment factory.

Logos is a place full of outstanding students. It's easily the toughest school in all of Cambodia. Coursework is roughly as rigorous as State High, the school full of professors' kids where I taught last year. It's 100% in English, although about 90% of students are non-native English speakers. Their English is incredible in most ways, so that I'm taken aback when they've never heard of a toddler or a porch, or when they ask me to plug out an appliance. They work hard to understand physics and government and sonnets, and to communicate about them in a borrowed language.

Logos is also a crazy place spiritually. It's almost like a youth group in terms of teachers' close relationship with students. When a student cheated, I prayed with him. Students freely include Bible verses in their essays. And the faith of many students is truly amazing to me. But not all students are Christian or even know what they believe. A few have fallen out with their Buddhist families because of their Christian faith. Some, who are definitely Christian, struggle with obvious sin issues like rage and theft and sexual sin. These students are still very much a part of the Logos family. And I've seen spiritual fruit in them even as they deal with ongoing stuff. I've seen students show each other grace, support each other, and be real with each other in astonishing ways.

Logos was started haphazardly and has experienced much chaos. It was and is staffed by inexperienced and sinful and issue-filled people. It doesn't deserve to be anything special. And yet it is a place where God is so present. It's a place that is dear to many hearts, mine increasingly so. It's going to be a shock for me to go anywhere else after here... I'm hoping I won't have to for a while.

Moving!

The semester ended today (Friday the 18^th), meaning that exams were given this week (in high school only – middle school still had normal classes, in theory) and report cards were handed out this afternoon. Today was also our last day in our current location, so we recruited all middle and high school students to help the teachers label the desks, pack the books, take down the posters, and load the trucks. Tomorrow, we’ll begin unpacking in our gorgeous new facilities on the outskirts of town. Students and teachers worked HARD today and got a lot done! Many of them have never really done chores, so they have limited experience with this kind of manual labor. It's child labor, they cried! It's character building, I retorted.

It’s been neat to get a glimpse of the building process, albeit only toward the end of it. For example, in Cambodia, the construction crews are generally from the provinces (AKA rural areas). They move around for different jobs, bringing their families, and sleep at the construction site. So when I went out to visit the school about six weeks ago, I found the ground level full of hammocks, cooking areas, small children, and roosters. Another interesting tidbit is that we got to pick our paint colors for our new rooms! I picked a sage green for two walls and cream for another two walls, but a few teachers went bolder, with salmon or bright red on some walls. Because paint jobs don’t last very long here, it’s not a big deal to have a color not every teacher would love: they’ll be painted over in a year or two, anyway.

Many students’ first official tour of the school came last weekend, at the middle and high school Christmas concert. It was Logos’ first-ever band concert (for middle school only), and it was a labor of love to acquire instruments for the band! You can buy guitars and local traditional instruments here, but I guess not things like flutes and trumpets and keyboards. So they arrived very piecemeal, from donors overseas or in suitcases. I was quite impressed by their sound! It was a step above my memory of middle school band concerts, partly because of strategic placement of several musically gifted students. The choir concert also sounded lovely. Everyone wore black clothes, which is strongly associated with mourning here, so the girls also wore the beautiful scarves available at markets here. It looked so nice together.

I’m quite excited for my new classroom! It’s considerably larger, and I'll actually have options in arranging the seats. (Right now, the rows are packed in, and students in the fifth row always complain they can't see to the front in my long, narrow room. There, I can have twice as many front-row seats, since that's where many students prefer to sit! I never had this problem in the US.) All that I’m dreading is the distance (about a 10-minute car or moto ride, or 15 minutes by tuk-tuk). It’s been so great to dash over to school on foot to grade on the weekends, or swim in the pool, or use their Internet. Now I’ll need to be more organized, especially since Sarah and I are hoping to share a moto. Many Logos families are moving out to that area: housing is cheap, and almost all expats in Cambodia rent properties, so it’s not hard to move. Logos will really shape the neighborhood, where no homes even existed a few years ago, and many new ones are still being built. But it’s pretty isolated from markets, farther from downtown, etc. I’m also really attached to Sovannary and a few of the neighbor girls. So I’d consider moving after next summer, but it’d be so nice to stay here in Toul Kork.

Christmas...and not a fried banana in sight.

The Logos staff Christmas party was last night, and I did my part as a verified Sunshine Committee (aka Party Planning) member by...
1. Arriving early to help decorate the pillars with festive ribbons
2. Providing many people's first-ever taste of buckeyes (balls of peanut butter and powdered sugar dipped in melted chocolate chips) - who knew they were such a regional dish? By the way, I used some precious US chocolate chips, since only one grocery store here carries any. Since even those wouldn't melt properly on my overactive stovetop, it was a labor of love by Sarah and me.
3. Playing the Yankee gift swap game, using the gift Sarah wrapped: a free Rudy DVD that we found in our apartment when moving in. It had the dubious distinction of being the last of 26 gifts to be chosen from the pile. At least it went to Shirley, another Philly native, and not one of the guards or cleaners who speak next to no English and have never seen a football game.

By the way, the big joke in planning the potluck dinner was how many fried bananas there would be. Last year, apparently all 8 or so of the guards decided that fried bananas from street vendors (delicious and cheap) would make an excellent addition to the feast. This year, we instituted a signup sheet for various categories, in part to impede a similar glut of fried fruit. It seems fried bananas here are Cambodia's answer to Doritos.

Click here to see photos of our rooftop festivities at the principal's house.