Growing into my name

"You look like a Chelsea." I always hear that and I never know what it means. Now, with Facebook, I can type in "Chelsea" and see thousands of profile pictures. Many of them look like sorority girls, like they go straight from the tanning salon to the beer pong tournament. That's wonderful! I've always hoped to look like them! Or maybe they mean the upscale neighborhoods in London and New York, the beverage, the hairstyle, or the boots worn by stormtroopers in Star Wars. Either way, I'm not quite sure how to take it.

It's how I got my name, though. My parents were considering the name Annelise if I was a girl, but somehow, "when we saw you, you just looked like a Chelsea." I felt somewhat like a Chelsea growing up, picturing her as someone steady rather than flighty, practical and not given to much girliness. (Although I was far too spacey to fully deserve my image of the name!) At the same time, I hated its meaning: "Port of Ships." Other girls got cool name plates with meanings like "Beloved" or "Harmonious" or "Joyful." Theirs came with amazing Bible promises tailored to their names. The lucky ones even had Bible characters or famous heroines who shared their names, whose character traits and qualities they could aspire to. My name, by contrast, wasn't available on most of those monogrammed souvenirs. "Port of Ships" smelled like fish, looked grey and dingy, and sounded like a steamboat. Thanks, Mom and Dad.

I've often wished for a more multi-cultural name. Most people named Chelsea are white Americans within ten years of my age. But if it's not a common girls' name to most people besides my peers, at least people are still familiar with it. Older adults ask if I'm named after Chelsea Clinton. When I played with little kids from the inner city, they said, "Of course - you're Chelsea like in 'That's so Raven' on Disney!"

When I studied in Europe, part of me hoped to go by my middle name, Elise. I may well have done it, except that people knew me already as Chelsea in both France and Germany. Anyhow, it worked out: I just had to tell people I was "Chelsea like the football club in England." (Works for Korean youth, too!) It's not the easiest to pronounce, but most people do OK with it, no matter their language background.

So I'm growing to accept it. More than that, I was recently challenged to appreciate it more. The subject came up at Bible study this spring, and someone mentioned the phrase "a port in a storm": a haven for people going through a rough time. Am I that kind of person? I want to be, and I think it's a trait I've been working to develop. Some of my most fulfilling moments have been listening to people experiencing difficulties and encouraging them. Maybe I finally have an identity in my name, just like the Ruths and Lydias and Hannahs I used to envy with their built-in role models. Maybe my name is finally meaningful, just as much as all those names with a cute plaque describing their significance. Maybe I'm starting to become a Chelsea.

Leavin' on a jet plane...

or rather four of them...(what kind of flight has 3 layovers, anyway?)...but I know I'll be back in August. As I write, I'm in a hostel in Hong Kong, in the middle of my 17-hour layover after a 3-hour flight from Phnom Penh. It's been a whirlwind of activities leading up to today, as the end of a school year always is: banquet, finals, awards night, goodbye lunch for departing teachers, moving my stuff to the house where I'll live next year. So despite the inconvenience, my 46-hour travel time actually provides some needed quiet time to reflect and prepare for re-entry.

I've heard that most missions agencies don't let people go home during their first two years. In some ways, I wholeheartedly agree. Going "home" for the summer, every summer, is a little too reminiscent of college and a little too far from considering a place your new home. I wish that I had time to relax in Phnom Penh, that I didn't associate it with ALWAYS having work to do and teaching on my mind. So I know that by spending the summer in the US, I'm missing out on some really valuable experiences. I know, too, that reverse culture shock is often more intense than culture shock, and that this summer won't always be easy.

Overall, though, I'm delighted about my summer plans. I've been looking forward to baked goods, berries, not being stared at, forests, and other wondrous features of my former life. And while I'm glad to be returning to Cambodia soon, a few recent events have convinced me I'm ready for a break:

1. My hairdryer melted! Concrete evidence of the intensity of hot season. I was given one that a former teacher had left, and hadn't used it all year because it's too hot to wear my hair down. When I started packing, I picked it up and found it covered in a sticky residue. I realized that my room is so hot, the plastic on my hairdryer was actually melting.

2. My neighbors invited me to watch porn! OK, maybe I'm exaggerating, but everyone on screen was nude and I didn't feel inclined to watch it with my 60-something landlord. I walked in to pay rent and sat down to chat for a minute. Then they gestured for me to turn around: "Look, Chelsea, it's in English!" I told them, "I don't think I know that movie."

3. My bed broke! I only bought it this semester, when Michaela moved into my old room. But this week, I kept hearing things cracking ominously, and finally realized that several of the beams holding up my slats had fallen out.

4. Ants infested my underwear! Why only that shelf, out of all my clothes? Why yesterday, when I've been using that detergent all year? Why underwear, for crying out loud? Nothing a little Raid can't solve, but still aggravating when I was trying to pack.

I'm already getting nostalgic about this year and missing people from Logos. I know I'll be glad to come back in 2 months. But in the meantime, I think I'm finally ready to be stateside!

Cambodia: a skyscraper over a pit

On Friday, my friend Sheryl was telling me how disillusioned her Khmer tutor has become. A few years ago, he arrived in the city from his province, brilliant and accepted into a university, with lofty ambitions. Today, he feels hopeless, saying that he and his friends – like thousands of others from the province – are now well-educated but have no chance against the spoiled rich kids competing for their jobs. These smart kids from the province are left scrambling to survive, just like the average Cambodian: hoping for a few dollars a day from driving a moto, or working in a factory, or selling vegetables.

Many people on top are just as incompetent as they are corrupt. A generation earlier, his father had to read orders to an illiterate Khmer Rouge general; today, nothing has changed. These rich kids who get the good jobs are usually very poorly educated, having bought their grades all throughout school, and ill-equipped for their positions. Once in power, they freely exploit it to seek their own selfish gain. It makes no difference, though – they will always be hired over someone poorer, with fewer connections.

Sheryl is concerned that her tutor will become a freedom fighter if the occasion arises in the next ten years. While a small Cambodian middle class is developing in some ways, in other ways the gap between rich and poor is widening, and unemployment is an epidemic. Marie Ens, working here for decades, describes Cambodia as “a skyscraper built over a pit:” its glitzy new neighborhoods and showy business districts are so steeped in corruption that they are doomed to collapse. In several ways, conditions are parallel to life just before the Khmer Rouge. At that time, it was disillusioned intellectuals who rallied the peasants and gathered an army to overthrow the rich and powerful. Khmer Rouge leaders Pol Pot and his comrades, while attending university in France, learned about Communism and saw more hope in it than in the rigidly hierarchical status quo. But the only way in which they really achieved equality for all is that millions of rich and poor alike perished under their regime.

A Khmer colleague says that Cambodians don’t like to learn from their mistakes; they tend to be fatalistic rather than closely analyzing cause and effect relationships. So it’s not surprising that Cambodians have largely refused to address the repercussions of this genocide. Most older people don’t ever discuss it or tell their stories, and the government schools twist history to blame the Vietnamese for Khmer Rouge atrocities. Unlike Germans, who almost obsess about the Nazis and bend over backward to avoid any semblance of repeating history, the Khmer often ignore their painful legacy. So Sheryl feels that Cambodia is ripe for another revolution. The only way to avoid it is, she theorizes, if the cultural mentality very gradually shifts. So far, there’s no evidence that it has been, but God’s grace is mighty.

Being here has shown me how little I know about the future: not only for myself, but for my friends and my host country. If a revolution were to break out, my Khmer students would likely be in grave danger: they’re a minority religion, have foreign connections, and are well-educated. Any one of those would have gotten them killed under Pol Pot’s regime. I don’t want to be pessimistic or fearful, but nor do I want to pretend that the status quo is permanent. I just finished teaching 1984 in British Literature, and the most poignant discussion we had was on a Christian’s response to torture. Part of my job as a teacher is to equip my students for the future. All I know how to do is to keep pointing them toward the truth and pray that God will strengthen them to walk by faith, wherever He asks them to go. And I can rejoice that regardless of the short-term, ultimately their future IS secure and glorious: with Him forever!

They’re so grown-up!

At graduation...

And last night's banquet

The seniors graduated yesterday, all eleven of them. It’s only Logos’ third graduating class. For me, it was amazing to see how personal a graduation ceremony could be. My graduations from high school and college had 630 and maybe 4000 students graduating, respectively. At this one, as each student walked, their baby pictures flashed across the screen as their homeroom teachers read statements each had written about Logos and future plans. I taught all but three this year, and I’ve had real conversations with every one of them, one-on-one, outside of class. I genuinely felt happy for each of them and deeply interested in their future after Logos. I’m going to miss them! (Well, except that they still have class Tuesday...I don't understand graduating before school is over.)

I was reminded several times of their past before Logos. The one American and four Koreans all had several cute baby pictures, whereas several Khmer (Cambodian) students only showed one faded photo before age ten or so. One Khmer student is from a wealthy family; the others are on scholarship, and only one of them lives with her birth parents. In her speech, the salutatorian talked about being invited as a young girl into the home of a foreign woman, Bonnie. She accepted the invitation but was afraid because she’d been warned about sexual abuse by foreigners. But instead of abusing her, that woman offered her a scholarship to Logos, changing her entire life. Today, this girl has flawless English, great critical thinking skills, and a vision for serving the people of Cambodia as a lawyer fighting corruption. (And she just might have the courage to do so!) This student now lives with Bonnie, escaping a hostile and often-abusive family, and says she’s amazed at how God’s been transforming her life after years and years in which she was closed off to the Gospel. Incredible, the result of Bonnie (who still works at Logos) seeing a young girl suffering and helping her access an education.

I’m praying for their future after Logos, and I’d love it if you would too. Some will be attending college in America or Thailand; others are working or interning locally next year; one has no idea of his plans. I’d love to see all of them receive a quality higher education, which currently seems out of reach to one girl in particular. But I’m reminded that just making it into, or even through, college isn’t a guarantee of future success. Especially not in Cambodia, where nepotism and wealth determine opportunity far more than knowledge or skills. Besides, Cambodia’s future is so uncertain. (More on that in the next blog entry.) It makes me wonder what will happen with these Cambodian Logos grads as they leave their safe haven and enter the “real world,” a world far harsher than I’ve ever known. Will their Western connections and English skills be enough to land them jobs long-term? Will they be able to support their parents and relatives, as they are often expected to do? And how come I got a job, no problem, right after graduation? I am so obscenely privileged. I know it’s God’s grace, but I want to live a life worthy of His calling, and such an enormous blessing sure does carry a heavy responsibility!

Here’s what I know but need constant reminders of: My God is faithful. Just as He has provided for me all this time, He has provided for my students and will continue to. Maybe not in the way I would like, but in a way that meets my students’ every need and glorifies His name. My students have been tested so much already in trusting God’s faithfulness, and have found Him reliable in situations far harder than I’ve ever faced. I am convinced that God’s power and love will be on display as they learn to walk with Him outside the close-knit warmth of the Logos community. Pray for them to have endurance and faith!

Photos from the orphanage

Not an orphan, but the house parents' daughter...Sarah and I died laughing whenever we looked at her, because her worried expression and dropped jaw never changed.

Sokha, perpetually shirtless, an excellent fisher and dancer. He has an intense stare.

Mai Dalin, who knew she was too cute for words. Her adorable polka dot dress was filthy and drenched with sweat - hey, it's April!

Soklee and Srey Nih - her shirt says "Kiss me quick!"
Random neighbor girl (or old woman in disguise?) who spent her time swearing and spitting sugarcane chunks at us.

Srey Nai and Mai Dalin again, climbing to bring down cashew fruit for us - tasty but it dries out your mouth! (Aren't you glad you can't see their lice?)

The Orphanage

You always hear about people going to orphanages, don’t you? They start planning it 8 months in advance. They get their shots, sew their puppets, practice their skits, pack their crafts. Me? I decided about 2 weeks ago that I’d join my friend Sovannary this past weekend and see where she just started working. On Wednesday, my oldest class asked me about my plans for this week’s holiday, and 2 students decided to join me. No big deal – just a trip to the orphanage, out in a village in the province.

Orphanages are a dime a dozen in Cambodia. In fact, living in Phnom Penh’s NGO circuit, it’s kind of trendy to visit other organizations and help out for an afternoon or something. Many children in them aren’t true “orphans” – their parents just aren’t able to take care of them. If you’re not careful or scrupulous, you can even get kids from capable parents who just believe their child will have access to more in the orphanage than living with them. Many orphanages also deal with corrupt staff – corruption shows up at ALL levels of Cambodian society.

This one is far from a shining example. A foreign family started it several years ago, then moved back to the US, leaving people in charge who apparently lack both the competence and the virtue to do a good job. Sovannary was hired to try to get it back on track, visiting every weekend to manage it and hold them accountable. She’s perfect for the job in so many ways – a visionary, a great communicator, a no-excuses person, a real heart for God and the kids. But she says it’s daunting, and I believe her. The kids are lovely, although I’m sure they have plenty of issues. It’s the 5 staff members. Both house parents do hardly anything…during the whole visit, I never once saw them talk to any of the twenty children. The two cooks have huge fights several times a week, in which they scream obscenities at each other in front of the kids.

All of them claim to be Christian, but Sovannary believes they’re all pocketing orphanage money. Only half the food budget is spent weekly (the other half disappears), and the teenage boys complain that they never eat until they’re full. (Anyhow, I’ve seen what they eat: no fruit or vegetables except the produce from one fruit tree, and every dish is chock-full of salt and MSGs.) The house parents just keep saying “I don’t know,” not only about the food budget, but about the missing toothbrushes and toothpaste, and the shampoo, and other basic items intended for the children. From now on, Sovannary is having them write down EVERYTHING they use or distribute to the kids.

The best example to the children seems to be Rakhim, the computer teacher, who’s Muslim. He has a real relationship with the kids and is the only one who has earned Sovannary’s trust. He also displays the most interest in a genuine relationship with Christ; the others never live out their faith, but he has many questions for Sovannary. The staff are supposed to lead daily devotions (ex. Bible stories and singing) for the children, but lack the Bible knowledge to do a good job. When Sovannary offered to find them sponsors to attend a Bible school, only Rakhim expressed interest. Would it make sense to put a non-Christian in charge of devotions, and to send him to Bible school in hopes that he makes a decision for Christ? That’s what Sovannary is having to weigh in her mind.

As for me, the question I’m weighing in my mind is what I can bring them next time. This time, I treated everyone to mangos, for the large sum of $2 total: only 50 cents a kilogram! It’s a rare treat for them, one they’d have to save their pocket money for, because the orphanage never buys them. But I’d love to track down things for them to do, since there’s currently nothing. Besides some dancing and traditional Khmer New Year's games, we spent the day watching a few guys fish and playing hand-clap games. I’d like to bring anything that challenges their intellects or fine motor skills: books…puzzles…sidewalk chalk…crayons…buckets and shovels for the sand outside…I think it wouldn’t be hard to get them engaged in that kind of stuff, and they desperately need the stimulation. Not sure yet how to make this happen, but I’m praying that God will direct my steps!

English Language Learners

It’s been an interesting time all year, trying to figure out my students’ abilities in English. (90% are English language learners, or ELLs, meaning English is not their first language.) In many ways, they’re quite advanced. The books I teach are the same level, often the same books, as what I read as an honors student. Most Logos classes are taught around the level of an honors class in America. Graduates now in US colleges, or those who move to the US, find the classes easier than Logos. Logos is generally regarded as the toughest school in Cambodia. (Although, with about 6 international schools extending to twelfth grade, that’s not saying as much as it might. High-caliber education is a very recent development in Cambodia.)

On the other hand, students have to put in tremendous effort to meet our standards. You might think that after eight or ten years of attending school taught by native English speakers, my students would have the same English language ability as a typical native speaker. But a language is such an enormously complicated system of information. It’s more and more amazing to me that anybody is ever fluent in a language, let alone that God created children’s minds to acquire their native language without really trying. My students have three major disadvantages: they didn’t learn English from infancy (even though several have now forgotten Khmer and use English exclusively), most things outside of Logos are not in English, and they learn from many models of incorrect English: namely, each other.

Take grammar, for instance. My students still struggle with when to put “the” or “a” in front of nouns and when to add “-s” or “-ed” to verbs. Some mistakes are deeply engrained, like “few days later” instead of “a few.” They still write truly mangled sentences from time to time (especially newer arrivals), as well as many that just don’t quite work. This is something I expected, but I’m still working on what to do with it. How often do I correct students’ mistakes in essays and projects? Should I ever correct them verbally? Which grammar activities help, and which are too isolated from their real-life experiences? One history teacher has remarked several times that it’s hard to decipher student papers, and I wonder what to do to help them write legibly.

And vocab! Students study the words on vocab lists, but are missing many common words that don’t show up often in the classroom. So they’re mostly comfortable with academic or Biblical words like “punctuation” and “perseverance” and “predestination,” but might have no idea about words like “pacifier” or “pitcher” or “pioneers.” They also tend to know fewer synonyms and thus feel more comfortable using boring word choice in papers, like “said” and “went” instead of “retorted” or “dashed.” A few at the opposite end go thesaurus-crazy, with a tendency to put in obscure or inappropriate words. A recent example: “He searched for poetic sources from the everyday happenings. From that careful double-check, he derived into a conclusion.” Lessons on word choice can easily lead to a sense of frustration and inadequacy if I’m not careful.

Interpretation is a huge one. Students are often insecure about what they’ve read, making them more hesitant to rely on context clues to figure out new words. Critical thinking is also not a value emphasized in Khmer culture, which instead values rote memorization. Some adoptive parents told me their teens have no idea how to put together jigsaw puzzles. A few of my students have amazing memories for detail: they can describe a scene and recall characters much better than I can after several readings, but they honestly don’t know how to infer things about it. Thankfully, this is certainly not the case for all my students, and critical thinking is something they’ve worked hard to learn. Even in upper levels, though, it’s sometimes quite difficult for them to draw connections that seem obvious to me.

I love my ELLs, and overall I’m amazed at how well they do. Not only can they define “perseverance,” but most of them live it out, fighting to understand each new reading and to express ideas clearly. Learning is such a messy process, particularly developing abstract skills like those involved in a Language Arts class. I’m trying to remember to be patient with myself as I guide their development: I’m neither their first English teacher, nor their last.