Silent reading

This year at Logos, middle/high school students have a 20-minute block every day for silent reading.  It's my favorite, partly because I get to read with them.  That's right, you read that correctly.  

I get paid to read for fun.  

I'll pause while you run off and fill out your job application to come join me.  It doesn't get any better than this, folks.  And yes, Logos *is* now hiring.

I enjoy recommending silent reading books to students and hearing about their favorites - it's a great conversation starter.  (Fun fact: for a while when I was little, I wanted to be a librarian.)  Not only that, but I believe silent reading is great for students too.  Having time to read daily helps them discover the type of books they like, promoting a habit of life-long reading.  Many studies suggest that reading is the most effective way to improve students' grammar and vocabulary as they learn from writers who are superior to their current level.  That's important for all students, but especially for English language learners, who comprise probably 80-90% of our student body.  Our principal actually instituted silent reading as part of his master's degree program - it's part of his school improvement plan, and he's hoping to study the results among our students.  

Some students already enjoyed reading on their own, but not most.  I can say from experience (and I've read research agreeing) that reading in a second language takes a loooot more effort.  Even when you know all the words, your brain processes sentences more slowly.  Therefore, many of our students are reluctant to read more than they have to, since just assigned reading takes them long enough.  An informal poll in my English classes showed not much change in 9th grade reading habits, but quite a few grade 11-12 students reported reading for fun outside of school more frequently than last year.  

There have been minor hiccups, but overall it's going great.  I'm seeing benefits already.  When Brit Lit students finished their quizzes last Friday, most of them took out their silent reading books while waiting for others to finish...not because I told them to, but because they wanted to.  I see students reading for fun in the hallways before class.  I hear them recommending books to each other.  I don't know whether standardized tests would reveal improvement yet, but in my mind it's a success.

Here are several books I've read and enjoyed in silent reading so far:

In the Time of the Butterflies, by Julia Alvarez.  
A poignant, funny, riveting novel based on the four Mirabal sisters, who stood up to Dominican Republic dictator Rafael Trujillo in the 1960s.  Since it starts with Dede as an old woman, remembering her sisters' deaths, the question of tragedy is not "if" but "how."  The sisters take turns narrating their childhood and transition into political activists.  

The True Meaning of Smekday, by Adam Rex.  
I found this in the library waiting to be catalogued, and read it on a whim.  It starts with an 11-year-old girl's essay on Smekday, the holiday commemorating aliens' invasion of Earth.  She goes on to tell about her search for her mother (abducted by the aliens) accompanied by an alien named J. Lo.   It's laugh-out-loud funny and very clever.  I just saw that there's a movie adaptation coming out this year!

Counterfeit Gods, by Timothy Keller.  
I've appreciated some of his sermons (he pastors Redeemer Church in New York City) and heard good things about his other books.  So when a Bible class that meets in my classroom started reading this, I decided to join them.  I found it a profound, yet readable examination of modern-day idols - from money to stability to family values - that can derail our lives if we pursue them above God.  It juxtaposes Bible characters with modern trends to expose the empty promises of these idols and the true hope available in Christ.  

The Great Gatsby, by F. Scott Fitzgerald.  
I hated this book back in my 10th grade American Literature class - just a depressing story about selfish rich people.  But watching the movie inspired me to give it another try.  I wanted to see how closely the film version reflected the book.  Answer: very!  It was often word-for-word.  Reading this book with a bit more life experience, as well as just after Counterfeit Gods, showed me some of its depth, urgency, and truth that I hadn't appreciated twelve years ago.  When Jay Gatsby says that Daisy's voice sounded like money, I got chills.  

Solomon Church, part 2: the Christmas service

Christmas is not a big commercial holiday in Cambodia.  Some markets sell Santa hats, and stores or restaurants with foreign clientele might put a fake tree or some snowflakes in their front window.  But for most Cambodians, Christmas is just another day.

For Christian Cambodians, it's all about Jesus.  There are other holidays when they might give each other gifts or visit relatives, but Christmas isn't focused on family, since many Christians come from Buddhist families.  Instead, they celebrate at church with performances, guest speakers, Christmas carols (many original to Cambodia), and a shared meal.  

Neighborhood kids waiting for the program to begin

I read a recent article saying that since many Cambodian churches don't have a pastor (but just study the Bible in small groups), pastors are very busy in December and January traveling around to churches all over the country.  Whatever day they're available is "Christmas day" for that church - nobody's too picky about December 25!  I can't blame them, since Jesus was probably born in the spring or summer.  Cambodians stick with the Bible and don't assign much importance to the many convoluted Christmas traditions we have in the West, like shiny balls hanging from pine trees and coal in stockings and gorging ourselves on peppermint fudge and watching "The Grinch."  As much as I love these traditions (well, maybe not the coal), many of them are deeply rooted in a European/American culture and climate, and make just a tad bit less sense in Cambodia.

My friend Chenda, the one who first invited me to Solomon Church (see my last post), has been bugging me to come to the Christmas service ever since they started pouring concrete for the outdoor stage at one end of the church courtyard.  Of course, I was happy to oblige - I could tell it was going to be quite a production, and I wouldn't want to miss it.  The Sunday afternoon before Christmas, everyone took their places in the blue plastic chairs facing the stage.

New Chenda and the two friends who invited her

The girl in the front, next to me, came and sat by me to practice her English.  Her name is Chenda too, as it turns out.  She arrived in Phnom Penh about six months ago to attend university, and decided a couple months later to become a Christian.  So it was her first-ever Christmas celebration.

The Sunday School-aged kids sang a Christmas song...so cute!

All the members of the guitar class and soccer team worked together to prepare special Christmas dramas.  The Nativity in particular had a lot of Khmer cultural touches in the costumes, music, and even narration style: the narrators sounded just like the ones on the radio, with high-pitched, breathy voices for all the girls.  

A Nativity pantomime to music and recorded narration

I couldn't quite figure out some characters.  The ones in blue brought fruit to Mary and Joseph before baby Jesus was born.  I thought the guys on the right were Wise Men, but those came in next, so I'm not sure who they represented.  But I really like their polka dots. I also liked when the little kids reappeared as the stable animals, still wearing stripes and Santa hats.

Joseph taking care of Mary by wiping sweat from her face with her krama (scarf).  This elicited a lot of "awwww."

The whole Nativity cast

Who needs a tree in the middle?  Everyone know's it's all about the tinsel and decorations anyway.

A special guest preacher

A mime/drama about God's love drawing us in relentlessly - it almost made me cry

The guitar students accompanied themselves singing a Christmas song 

Last, we all enjoyed dinner: Cambodian curry and fried noodles.  I've heard curry is a traditional Christmas meal at churches here, and it's often eaten on special occasions.  It's one of my favorite Khmer foods.

Feasting!

Chenda was beaming at the end.  "Weren't you so proud of them?"  I didn't have to fake the enthusiasm in my reply.  I was pretty amazed at how well all the kids had done.  "Last Christmas there were seven of us gathered at my church, and now look what God's done for us!"  We were overflowing throughout the whole courtyard - not just longtime church members and the new neighborhood kids, but also many kids' parents and friends.  All the eating and talking and laughing made a joyous noise indeed.

Solomon Church had much cause to celebrate: God with us, over two thousand years ago and all throughout this year.

Solomon Church, part 1: Chenda's children

She’s a dreamer, that girl. 

My friend Chenda was so excited when her church moved from downtown out near Logos.  “Do you know what this means?”  She laid out grandiose visions of the neighborhood kids pouring in there, tots and tweens and teenagers.  I was happy with her, but personally I wasn’t convinced.  She said the congregation had never been huge and had lost a lot of members who didn’t want to drive so far north of town.  Would they be in a place to draw in kids?  And did these kids want to come to church?  Would families even allow them to?

The two original "church kids," whose family not only attends, but lives in and cares for the building for the organization who owns it

But if anyone could make it happen, it’s Chenda.  She’s a go-getter, a farmer’s daughter who rose from Logos teacher’s assistant to graduate student and coordinator for the Catch-Up School program that meets at Logos.  Every Monday to Friday evening, over two hundred kids aged five to maybe twenty come to study grades 1-5 Khmer and math, or English, if they test high enough in Khmer.  They also learn about God’s love, as well as practical issues like hygiene, sexual abuse, and respecting their parents.  Some of the grade 1 and 2 students are much older than the others, mostly girls who never had the chance to attend school.  Most are enrolled in the local public schools or have scholarships to low-budget Christian schools, but many of them still struggle because teachers here lack training and have far too many kids in their classes.  Elementary schools meet half-day, with a morning class and an afternoon class, meaning students don't have much classroom time.  The Catch-Up School has made a huge difference for several kids I know, and many parents have reported transformation in their children’s attitudes at home and their achievement at school.  Chenda oversees their teachers and plans curriculum with remarkable competence and dedication.

Preaching

I ended up seeing for myself what was happening at her church when I began attending there this past June.  I was just starting to learn Christian vocabulary in Khmer, so it finally made sense for me to go to a Khmer-language church.  People were very welcoming in her church, urging me to eat snacks and chat after the service.  It only had about 25 members, which dwindled to about 15 over the next two months.  I never asked about those who left, but I’m guessing they likewise found a church closer to home.  Still, a core group showed up every week: a handful of late adolescent boys, and a bunch of ladies.  Some of them are single, while others are married to Buddhists who don’t want to come to church; only one comes with her husband and kids, who conveniently live at the church.  Often a guy comes and preaches; he’s not a pastor, but he works for a Christian NGO that helps people in prison.  When he can’t make it, one of the matriarchs shares some thoughts.  Sometimes someone shakes a tambourine to help keep our singing in time, though perhaps not quite in tune.  My personal favorite part is “sharing time” - hearing their testimonies of God’s goodness the past week.  

Counting the offering after church

A Sunday School class was just forming in June, which Chenda soon delegated to her friend Dani.  Enthusiastic young kids arrived each week at 7:30 AM, before the 8:30 service.  Chenda met several times with all the ladies to discuss ways to expand the program to teens.  I was worried that she’d bully them into it or that they’d give her a half-hearted “yes” but not follow through.  There were so few committed women at church already; were they willing to work together and invest in kids every week?  Still, they went ahead with it, adding a guitar class and a soccer team which both met Sunday afternoons.  (The team borrows the nearby Logos field.)  Two of Chenda’s friends from outside of church agreed to run both clubs.  I was invited to come along and help pick out five new guitars for the class at about $25 each.  Two students share each guitar; Chenda’s hoping next year they can add a second class to reach 20 students total.  

Stringing a new guitar

Flyers went up on the Logos gate with a date when applications would be accepted first-come, first-served.  That first day, both guitar and soccer filled up within hours.  Some students already attended the Catch-Up School at Logos, while others had heard about it from friends or just seen the sign.  Shy at first, they soon gained confidence to enter the church building and joke around with each other.  Better still, they soon felt comfortable with the church ladies, who waited around for them and invited them into conversations.  The ladies may be few in number, but they excel at being friendly and motherly!  The goal is that these ladies can be positive role models and adult figures in their lives.  While many Khmer families spend plenty of time together, they often don’t really give kids and teens a voice or ask how they’re doing.  If the church can both encourage students to participate in wholesome activities and nurture them emotionally, they can strengthen students and help them grow.

Arriving one Sunday

Within a few weeks of the clubs starting, many of those teens began showing up at the church service as well.  And they all participated in the Christmas program two weeks ago…see my next post for details. 

My roommate Annalisa said Isaiah 54:1 reminds her of Chenda.  “…More are the children of the desolate woman than of her who has a husband.”  Chenda’s in her mid-30s and would love to be married, but she’s got more kids than the Duggers.  And all her kids know how much she loves them.

She’s a dreamer, that Chenda, and it's beautiful to see her dreams coming true.

My potato rescuer

This morning, as I do on many a Saturday morning, I set out to get groceries.  Today I had a special mission: to buy ingredients for mashed potatoes.  We have a pot luck at church tomorrow for Thanksgiving, so we’re making some solidly American comfort food.  (This church is English-speaking and most people either are North American or have lived there at some point.)  I was asked to bring a potato dish, so I picked mashed potatoes.

First, I went to the Western grocery store.  The recipe I found called for cream cheese, which seemed excessive to me until I was in the dairy aisle, eying it longingly.  Do you know how many months it’s been since I had cream cheese?   (OK, actually only one since I was home last month, but I think I’ve only bought it once before in Cambodia, years ago.)  I stood there looking at the packages: $5 for 8 ounces (250 grams)?  Wow, that’s painful. 

Then I spotted the giant packages: $11 for a whole kilogram.  That’s just over half the price per unit of a small package.  My mind began to calculate the possibilities.  Cheesecake.  Carrot cake with cream cheese frosting.  Cream cheese cookies.  How long will it stay good?  Will it be grainy like the kind my roommate bought once last year?  How much do I care?  I decided to spring for it, ignoring the fact that I’ll be away next weekend with no time to bake, hoping my roommates could find uses for it as well.  Along with some oats and milk, I loaded it into my bicycle basket and headed to the market.

I parked in front of my usual fruit vendor stand and headed inside to the vegetable stalls.  The college girl that I always buy from laughed at me for setting potato after potato into the little plastic basket she’d passed me.  “I’m going to a party tomorrow,” I explained.  “In America this week is Holiday of Thanks.”  (I made up that phrase… I hope it made sense in Khmer.)  She helped me pick through and find the nicest potatoes, adding one to make it an even two kilograms.  “Ten thousand riel,” she told me.  Two dollars and fifty cents – good thing they’re cheaper than the cream cheese!

I still have some fruit at my house from last weekend, but I felt bad since the fruit girl had been watching my bicycle for me.  So I went for the “Christmas oranges,” which only appear around this time of year.  They’re like mini-Clementines, sweet and juicy, and they’re cheaper now than usual: 7000 riel ($1.75) per kilo.  Since my bike basket was full from the supermarket, I slipped the bag of potatoes over my right handlebar and the oranges over my left for the quick trip home. 

Just after I passed through the nearby traffic light, the potatoes’ weight burst through the flimsy plastic bag, sending them scattering.  I veered over to the shoulder and watched in dismay as big SUV’s came barreling through, potatoes bouncing under their tires.  Could they be salvaged?  I needed to leave soon for a Student Council meeting and didn’t have time to return to the market.  With a helpless expression, I groaned to the middle-aged tuk-tuk driver watching me from the corner.  “Two kilos of potatoes!  My bag broke!” 

He looked at the road thoughtfully, then darted out into traffic, scooping them up as hordes of cars began to part around him.  Good thing Cambodian traffic moves so slowly and drivers are used to interruptions like this.  Once his hands were full, he gestured to me to come pick up the rest, all the while holding out his potato-laden arms to direct the oncoming traffic around me.  Except for one that had been squashed under tires, we got them safely back to my bike, which of course had overwhelmed the kickstand and tipped over, dumping my remaining groceries.  He and the other tuk-tuk drivers laughed at me for that, but I didn’t care – I was just so glad to have my potatoes back and be spared another trip.  

I didn’t even know that driver, though I’m sure he always sees me riding past him.  I hadn’t expected he’d actually help me – it kind of seemed like a lost cause.  And I wouldn’t have been brave enough by myself to pick up all those potatoes, all over the road, with that much traffic.

I’m looking forward to mashed potatoes and other tastes of home tomorrow.  I’m looking forward to cream cheese delights in all shapes and sizes.  I have a lot of reasons to smile today, but my biggest one is that driver.

Sometimes Cambodians are really, really nice when they don't need to be. 

How to get to my house from school (using people as landmarks)

I wish you could see everyone on my route to and from school.  I love watching them and imagining their stories.  But since I usually feel intrusive photographing them, I'm giving you a glimpse of them this way.

You walk out of the building, past the neighborhood first graders clambering up the Logos slide before their Khmer class starts,

Along the soccer field where tall teens practice their goalie dives until their rides show up,

Ride your bike along the walkway with the Bangladeshi man selling sweets to help a friend in crisis,

To the gate with the soft-spoken guard who interrupts his news show to take your red tickets,

Out through a throng of neighborhood kids arriving in Merry Christmas T-shirts and white-and-navy school uniforms.

Turn right after the impeccable curled-hair mom sitting bored in her big black Lexus,

Veer to the middle to miss the family fishing on the edge of the street (which is, of course, still flooded),

And left after the construction crew of bare-chested skinny men, checkered krama scarves around their waists.

Curve around after the three laughing guys whose scooter is taking the corner much too fast,

And gaze at the sunset to your left, not the young guys on the right, abandoning their volleyball game in a grassy lot to make kissing noises at you,

Left again where a blonde-haired boy is walking his dachshund in front of his tall, narrow, pink house,

Around the bend where a small boy in red holds the elbow of a smaller girl in pink to help her miss the puddles.

Slow down at the market so you can spot the dogs darting out and the college girls cycling home with mango and chili salt,

All the way to the big road, where middle-aged men sit at child-sized plastic tables to enjoy their curry and noodles.

Wait there until you can merge into traffic with the young family in the rusty gray Toyota,

Past rows of girls in short skirts and long hair, attracting beer garden customers,

Slow down for the lady in the checkered pink hat, pushing her bike with a tall basket of baguettes for sale,

And squeeze in beside the bright blue truck whose bed is laden with weary welders heading home.

At the red light, take a shortcut through the gas station where attendants sit at their pumps so passing vehicles won’t run over their feet,

Left after the hotshot guys in suits standing around in front of the big flashy Karaoke TV place (read: brothel),

Past the businessman starting a moto, wearing a much-too-small Cinderella backpack that just might belong to the little girl on his lap.

Continue through the intersection with the lady who sells you cool fresh coconuts after your runs,

And left after the Korean family sitting outside the Blue Pumpkin shop with ice cream cones,

Where a couple flirts atop a parked moto in the shade of the trees.

Look out for the shaggy little dog meandering, 
wait while the Joy Water employees pause kicking around a colorful feathered hacky sack to let you through,

And come to a stop where a 17-year-old girl with an exuberant laugh opens your gate, impatient to chat with you.

Welcome home!

Student Sonnets

In British Literature (grades 11 and 12), students recently wrote sonnets imitating Shakespeare's Sonnet 130: 

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.

I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.

I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:

   And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
   As any she belied with false compare.

Like the original, they had to contrast two things in the format of a Shakespearean sonnet: 

-14 lines
-iambic pentameter (5 pairs of syllables that sound like da-DUH)
-a rhyme scheme of ABAB CDCD EFEF GG

-the final couplet summarizes the sonnet or offers another way to look at the topic

I wrote a sample two years ago, the last time I taught this course.  I'd love to improve parts of it, but this is as good as it's getting for now:

Truth and Lies

The Word of God is nothing like a lie,

For lies deceive, distort, divide, destroy.

Enslaving us through shame, they terrify;

They promise hope, yet rob us of our joy.

Their father, satan*, whispers to our hearts,

“Your ways are right.”  We nod, puffed up with pride.

Soon after, our illusions fall apart;

Exposed, we seek in vain a place to hide.

Bright light, God’s Word, illuminates our deeds,

Obscene or pure.  It slices wrong from right.

Awakening us, it satisfies our needs,

Revealing Christ, our true Hope and Delight.

Since He’s defeated satan, lies must crumble,

But God’s Word stands forever – we won’t stumble.

*Jon Acuff refers to a lowercase "s" as a way to give satan "the middle finger of grammar."  I always got a kick out of that.*

I told students they could have fun with their topics of comparison, and they did!  Here are a few that I especially enjoyed reading - I hope you do too.  

The Oval and the Round (Monika and Dillon)

The toilet is not like the porc’lain tub.

The grimy toilet is a pain to clean.

And yet the tub is fun for all to scrub,

For when you’re done, the tub shall sparkle keen.

While water in the tub might scald with steam

And make you wish you'd cooled it down before,

The toilet’s frigid water makes you scream

If ever doomed to feel the water’s core.

Although the tub is luxury for all,

The toilet is a mandatory part

Of all our lives. The toilet will stand tall

When both are precious in the human heart.

The oval and the round ceramic bros

Are equal, as each frequent client knows.

Books vs. Life (Alice and Hasub)

A book is nothing like the life we have.

For life is tough, unfair, give me a break!

True happiness and joy are what we crave.

We look, we try, we hope, yet still we ache.

But books have my Prince Charming on his horse

About to rescue damsels in distress.

But life? What good can come of such a force?

It hurts, is dull, and is an ugly mess.

But wait. Hmm, maybe life ain’t all that bad.

I’ve made a lot of memories quite nice.

And boy do I have many friends to add!

The perks of life like ice cream, friends, and rice,

I guess they make it worth the pain and crap.

And yeah! the greatest perk of all: the nap.

LOVE Sonnet (Kailyn and Daehan) 
Inspired by The Hunger Games

The Baker’s son is nothing like Katniss

Her heart is cold against the ones who care

But he loves her because she brings him bliss

She can’t get close for inside she is scared.

His love for her was like an open book

While Katniss’ heart was with some other guy

His loyal heart is what she cruelly took

While hers was like a fire; sparks would fly

But he pressed on and gained the love he seeked

So, Cupid’s arrows hit and pierced her heart

Oh Man! She saw his strength though he was weak

Oh boy! He is the finest man on earth!

With two kids and a marriage bound to last
Try harder, men, or they’ll be stolen fast!

A Sonnet On Wifi and God 
(Gloria and Seung Hyun)

The wifi access? Nothing like our God!

It gives you wants but he gives you your needs

As you get close, connections are more strong

But you have no control with Him; He’ll lead!

The happiness the wifi brings is short

Yet God brings joy that lasts for your whole life

You waste your time online and ask, ‘what for?’

While God gives you a purpose; He’s the Light.

So what’s to learn, to say, to change, or do?

Connect with God and leave the wifi out?

The love of wifi is not real or true

But God’s deep love is what it’s all about.

God wins! Surprise! Pretend you did not know!

He’s never off (just on) and never slows.

Confessions of a (wannabe) superhero

“I hate when people back home act like I’m a superhero,” my friend confides in me a few years back.  “I’m just a regular person.  My life here is different, but it’s not necessarily harder than theirs.”

                

She gestures to the fresh fruit smoothie she’s holding, the tasteful décor of the café, the quietly humming air conditioner.  “I mean, look at this place.  We could be in my hometown right now.”

I hesitantly nod agreement.  But…  But what?  My mind wanders to experiences that haven’t been part of her three months here.  Hot season.  Late-night bleary-eyed grading marathons.  The Great Shrew Invasion of 2010.  Incessant goodbyes.  Maybe she’s still in the honeymoon phase.  Surely life would be easier in America.  

But…  I’m not sure I can justify claiming hero status.  How many of the “hardships” of my life are any different than if I’d taken a job at a private school in Florida?  How do these challenges stack up against Seasonal Affective Disorder, or the standardized testing pressure of No Child Left Behind, or foreclosures?  What about the perks I get here: $1 moto repairs; a house helper who cooks my dinners and scrubs my toilet; a close-knit Christian community at school; free delivery from dozens of tasty, cheap restaurants?  

She’s right, I finally admit to myself.  I guess I'm not a superhero.  My life is not an epic tale of vanquishing evil.  But the truth is, part of me likes the superhero reputation.  Part of me thinks that’s the reason I’m here. 

The superhero image is dangerously possible.  Things that soon become mundane here still sound mysterious to people who have never visited, and I’m exposed to a lot of tough situations that (unlike some foreigners and many Cambodians) I don’t actually have to experience firsthand.  There are a half dozen brothels on my way to the grocery store.  Freedom of speech doesn’t really exist for Cambodians.  Nearly 1/3 of Cambodians died during the genocide in the 1970s.  I can toss out facts like those and make Cambodia sound like this wasteland that only my extraordinary courage and strength have enabled me to survive.  “Wow, I could never do that,” some people say.  “You are so brave.”  Though I try to seem humble, I kind of love hearing that.

Yet in many ways, Phnom Penh is a pretty cushy city for foreigners.  Take the foreign foods available here: besides my favorite French treats, I can buy ultra-American foods like Betty Crocker cake mixes, canned cranberry jelly, and Old El Paso salsa less than a mile from home.  You’d have to hunt high and low for those in most of Europe.  My classroom has great air conditioning, wifi, and (since January) even its own LCD projector.  Rent is a fraction of the American rates.  I’ve vacationed in four other countries with savings from my "meager" salary.

Most days, my life looks kind of like this: wake up, go to school, come home, eat, work, go to bed.  Most days, I don’t speak that much Khmer.  I don’t stand up for the victims of trafficking or land-grabbing.  I don’t talk with the many poor people I drive past, or even with my next-door neighbors.  I live in this artificial bubble where it’s not weird to eat yogurt for breakfast, where people think $8 (not $1) is a great price for a haircut, where people get my sarcasm.  In many ways, my life hasn't changed that much from when I lived in America.

That can be painful to admit.  I’m a missionary.  Aren't they supposed to be extreme?  In high school, I thought my address overseas would be “The Front Lines,” not “Near the Prime Minister’s Nephew.”  If I assume my life is harder and more heroic than in the US, then I feel like I’ve earned the right to complain about certain aspects of it.  I can hold onto my pride and my sense of superiority.  But the more I talk with people who (unlike me) have done adult life in the US, the less I’m able to justify this way of thinking.  Isn’t the grass always greener, and doesn’t everyone have hidden struggles?  In fact, while I know some foreigners who face monumental challenges here, a few friends even say coming to Cambodia was a relief compared to the load they carried in the US.  My life is different than it would be in America, sure, but “difficult” comes in all shapes and sizes.  So maybe I haven’t earned any special right or status.

That's why I was a bit apprehensive when my parents, and later my sister, came to visit.  What would they think of my house here, where my four roommates and I share as much floor space as my childhood home?  Would they judge me for how often I eat out?  

As it turns out, they were awesomely supportive as usual, and they didn’t criticize my choices.  But sure enough, when I asked my sister what had surprised her during her time here, she replied, “Your life seems kind of normal.”  Maybe I’m just a person.  Maybe I need a Superhero far more than anyone needs me.

I’m glad my family has the inside scoop.  I’m glad they know to take my whining with a grain of salt.  And so I want to let you blog readers in as well, as a safeguard against my urge to impress you and feign invulnerability.  Ready?  

I am not a superhero.  

I am an ordinary twenty-something getting used to life after college.  Yes, life in Cambodia features a different set of challenges.  Sometimes I brag about those challenges.  Sometimes I feel defeated by them.  But sometimes, just sometimes, I realize they're all tangled up with the amazing blessings that make up a life I'll never deserve.