I should be grading finals right now. Report cards are due tomorrow, and I have tons to do before they'll be ready. All week, really, I planned to focus on grading and other urgent tasks.
But students' family issues don't always wait for opportune moments, and this week has had more than its share. In the past seven days, these family concerns have taken up more of my brain energy than essays or multiple choice ever could:
-A student finding out they'd be sent to their passport country, to live with a relative they barely know, in just nine days. Their preschool-aged sibling is coming too.
-A first-grade student whose parents don't care that this student is being held back, again. They can't be bothered to come to special needs meetings, or to help with homework. They let the student down for the umpteenth time yesterday when they promised to come to the first-grade Penguin Party, and then didn't show. (The mom doesn't work, FYI.)
-A high school student not that far from that first-grader, still craving their parents' attention while the parents are stressing out fulfilling missionary obligations. All those broken promises still hurt.
-A student trying to end an unhealthy relationship, but being pressured by both families to stay in it and pretend everything is OK.
-A student who has to deceive one parent in order to stay in contact with the other, and yet feels much closer to the latter.
-A student who's an elated brand-new Christian, and yet afraid their parents will find out. "Last time I mentioned Christianity to them, they moved me to another school for a year. What do I do?"
-A student asking to move back with their parents and not being allowed to, even though they're not in trouble.
All of them are well-fed, have access to health care, and will probably never drop out to become a street vendor. They've never faced a death in their immediate family; most have never been abused. Compared to most Cambodians, they live in total luxury. Some of their parents are being selfish, but others are truly trying to do what's right. Sometimes I feel guilty for letting their concerns get to me.
But you know what? If I'm allowed to care about how to get exams graded, I sure can care about their pain. Because it's real and it's intense, even if it's not the most anguishing on an objective scale. And if I'm going to let myself love my students, empathizing is not even a choice.
Here's the other thing: entering their pain lets me see God so clearly. It forces me to rely on Him when personally, I haven't gone through any significant hardships. Taking on bigger concerns than my own shows me that God is bigger than I thought. And better.
I've seen God do so much for students this year. It makes me almost excited to have new things to bring before Him. I feel like the widow whom Elijah told to collect empty jars from neighbors so there'd be more room for the oil that poured out from her tiny container. That's where I am now, piling up the jars and waiting expectantly for grace to start brimming over.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Friday, April 29, 2011
Momentous Memoirs #4
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...”
“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...”
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!
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