When you have to recruit your own blood donors

Monday was my first time ever donating blood, and it was rather unexpected.

Not that I'd never considered blood donation before. It's always seemed like a great idea: so easy... so practical... so, well, life-giving. At Penn State, there were blood drives all the time, and I felt kind of guilty every time I walked past one. But I had slightly low blood pressure. I had a virus that wiped me out my whole sophomore year and made me wary of infecting others. And I had lived in Germany for nine months as a small child.

That last statement may seem like a pretty lame reason for not giving blood, but it was actually my most compelling. My parents had always told me, "By living in Europe, we were potentially exposed to Mad Cow disease in the late '80s, so now we're excluded as blood donors." Those who had spent at least six months in Europe or three months in the UK between 1980 and 1996 were ineligible to donate in the US. So I never did.

Then ten years ago, I moved here, and still didn't donate. But every now and then, I'd hear about someone needing emergency blood transfusions who had to recruit people to come give blood immediately. Voluntary blood donation wasn't ingrained into Cambodian culture like in some places. Though it's improving, by late 2016 only 30% of transfusions came from voluntary donors, versus 80-90% in neighboring countries, while the rest come from family or sometimes paid donors (AKA blood trafficking). Hey, even in the US, the Red Cross has to fight hard to maintain its blood supply, right? (See the emergency need for donors issued earlier this month; it aims to have five days' worth on hand at all times.) Well, in Cambodia, they've had to overcome myths like "If you donate blood, your body can't replace it," or "Donating blood takes away your antibodies and makes you catch diseases." Information campaigns have especially targeted young adults, with good results.

As donations have risen, the demands have also risen, I think because of expanding access to medical care. The shortage is severe enough that hospitals try to keep a zero balance with patients. If you need one bag of blood, you get one of your friends or relatives to donate. Some hospitals charge for blood, and it sounds like some people without relatives are exempted from the donor requirement. But in general, no donors, no transfusions.

I still didn't ever give, though. Why? I'm not sure. By that point I was healthy, my BP was in the normal range, and mad cow seemed pretty distant. I guess I didn't know where to go. I never heard from anyone who'd donated blood in Cambodia. And I was quite busy teaching. The one time my school hosted a blood drive, I was getting over a cold, so my iron levels were too low.

I didn't really think about it again until reading an article a few months ago on Cambodia's blood bank. I found out it was 30 minutes away, on a road I'd driven many times. I told myself I'd go soon... but then it slipped from my mind again. On Monday, driving that road, I spotted it and turned in on impulse. I'd been antsy to get home and dive into my pressing to-do list, but suddenly it seemed a shame to miss the opportunity when I was right there.

Walking in, I wondered what documents I'd need. A medical history? Evidence of vaccinations? A passport? I couldn't even remember my blood type. Maybe I can't actually give today, but at least I can be prepared for next time. But I couldn't find any staff manning the front desk, just a bunch of people milling around a large room with a few chest-high partitions. I flip-flopped between scanning the room for an official-looking person and scanning the Khmer forms scattered on the desk to see if I could fill one out unaided. A smiling 20-something girl approached me. "Can I help you? Let's look for an English form." Funny, she didn't look like staff. As we kept chatting, I found out she's a Christian who needs monthly blood transfusions. "I need two people a month and it's hard to keep recruiting. Maybe you could donate for me."

I told her I was happy to, but she wandered off while I was filling out my form. In the meantime, a staffer reappeared and said they didn't require any other documents, so I could go ahead and give today.

Eventually, form in hand, I went to stand in line behind a guy who had filled out his form next to me. "Am I in the right place?"

"Oh yeah, you can actually skip the line since you're here by yourself. But you should put that girl's name on your donation. She could use your help."

I tracked her down and she'd already told the staff that I could help her. She stuck with me through the next several minutes, guiding me around to chat with a doctor, find out my blood type (B+, which I prefer to think of less as a grade and more as a life philosophy to "be positive"), and submit my form. I was grateful for her help as I would have been lost otherwise. I told her it was my first time, and she asked, "Are you nervous?"

"Just nervous that they won't let me donate." She looked nervous about that too as her words tumbled out to the doctor faster than I could understand. Would I have noted her pallor and thin frame if I hadn't known she needed these transfusions?

In the waiting area, my new friend told me that she and her sister had needed transfusions the last three years since their diagnosis, but had been sick since childhood. Each of them needs two donors a month, and even with their family and church's help, it's often a struggle to get enough volunteers. How stressful! Her husband is in the US applying for citizenship, so hopefully in a few years she can join him and have better access to health care. She'd been waiting at the transfusion center for about 90 minutes, praying for someone to come and help her. "Really?" I exclaimed. "I had no intention of coming in today... God used your prayer to bring me in here!"

I added her on Facebook, and she promised to contact me the next time she needs a donor. The actual blood-collection process went beautifully: very clean, very professional.

Free snacks for donors!

That night, I searched online. I hadn't heard about mad cow in almost 20 years. Was it still a concern? Was I needlessly avoiding US blood blanks based on a long-since-removed prohibition? Should I have been giving blood in the US all this time? In fact, no, the ban is still in effect indefinitely. The disease in humans, caused by eating contaminated beef (between 1980 and 1996, when they learned to keep it out of human food supplies), is called variant Creuzfeld-Jacob disease (vCJD). It can lie dormant for decades, can't be detected with typical blood tests, attacks the brain, and is always fatal - usually about a year after symptoms appear.

That gave me a twinge - had I been careless in donating? Why hadn't I read up on this before going in? Then I read that only about 230 people have ever been diagnosed worldwide, and cases have been declining since 2000. I thought about all the Europeans who donate and receive blood transfusions in their home countries without triggering another wave of epidemics, despite eating at-risk beef for sixteen years. I thought about the scant quantity of beef I'd probably eaten 30 years ago as a toddler in Germany. I thought about Cambodians who need blood and can't get it. And I thought about my friend, safe for another month. Nope, I was happy with my choice to donate. I've been scrambling ever since to tackle projects from that almighty to-do list, but 15 minutes reclining with a needle in my arm might have been the best way I served Cambodians this week.

Also, in researching further for this post, I saw that the US ban has been relaxed so that my 9 months in Germany no longer disqualifies me in the US. So now I could even give there! This blood donation thing just might become a habit.

Redeeming Singleness

In March, I spoke to World Team's leaders throughout Asia. The topic: How leaders and teammates can better understand and serve single World Teamers. I was rather nervous (this wasn’t my idea), but it turned into a great conversation. I learned a lot before, during, and even after our session as I continued reading up and asking others for input.

My contribution consisted of my story and some survey results. I'd asked singles in World Team and other mission groups worldwide, "How can leaders and teammates better serve you and help you maximize your gifts?" They had some excellent ideas that I'd be glad to share with interested parties. 

Two other speakers (both lifelong singles) joined our session via livestream. One, Suzy Grumelot, is releasing a book with Sue Eenigenburg this fall helping singles and marrieds serve well together. The other, Barry Danylak, wrote Redeeming Singleness, which grew out of his Ph.D. research at Cambridge examining Biblical theology on singleness and especially offspring. I just finished that book this month, but before our March session, I was able to read a great condensed version.

As a single Christian who likes to read about singleness and Christianity, I'm not new to this topic. But I was surprised how much I learned from Danylak. I'd like to highlight a few of his main points in this blog because this matters, not just for singles, but for every Christian. In the US and Europe, those living alone (never-married, divorced, widowed, separated) now outnumber those living with a spouse, and other countries are also seeing declines in marriage. If Christians overemphasize family as the purpose of life, we're missing a big chunk of the Biblical story and a big chunk of our surrounding community. 

(If what follows contains inaccuracies, please assume it's due to my poor summarizing, not his poor findings. Quotes are taken from the condensed version - sorry I don't have page numbers.)

“Of the three great monotheistic religions of modern time, Judaism, Christianity and Islam, only Christianity affirms singleness as a distinctive calling and gift within the community of God’s people.” I was fascinated by this. Let's look a bit more in depth:

• Judaism, including the Talmud and rabbinic tradition, contains teachings that marriage and procreation are essential duties for every man, that celibacy leaves you as half a person and impeded from sanctification. I'll further explore Old Testament teachings below.
• Islam strongly urges marriage as a moral safeguard and social necessity. The Prophet Mohammed said, "There is no celibacy in Islam." 
• Even Mormonism discourages singleness since it teaches that marriage is eternal and a core part of God's plan for everyone. You can be sealed with your spouse (or spouses, if the first one died and you remarried) and children to live together as a family forever.

Danylak writes that “those who are single may experience two different but related voids:”

1. No marriage partner: missing out on intimacy and companionship with a spouse. All singles experience this.
2. No physical offspring. Many never-married people and some divorcees and widows experience this. So do many married people who have never had children or whose children have died.

Christianity celebrates singles. While the Old Testament's Sinai covenant delivered key blessings through marriage and the birth of physical progeny, it foreshadowed the spiritual birth available now through Jesus. The New Testament presents singleness as "a calling and a gift." Singles and marrieds, parents and childless, need each other and are equal members of the body of Christ.

Old Testament

Starting in Genesis 1, when God blessed each newly created animal and commanded it to multiply, a link is clear between blessing and offspring.

God's covenant with Abraham promises blessing related to three categories: descendants, land, and a name or reputation. The first of these is required to inherit and perpetuate the second and third. If you don't have children, who will receive your land when you die? Who will bear and remember your name? The afterlife is murky throughout much of the Old Testament, and children are key to being remembered and thus "existing" beyond death. 

God created his covenant people, His symbolic offspring, mostly through physical procreation, along with some sojourners and foreigners joining Israel. In ancient Israel, marriage was a given for every healthy adult, but children were another story. All the major Old Testament matriarchs experienced barrenness, a source of great shame and grief. They had to rely on God to provide their desperately longed-for children. 

Later, in the books of the prophets, God frequently employs family metaphors such as marriage to describe His relationship with unfaithful Israel. The prophets' personal lives often signify an aspect of this relationship, but with tremendous variety:

• Jeremiah was commanded, "You shall not take a wife, nor shall you have sons and daughters in this place." He lamented his name being forgotten in the future (Jeremiah 16:2, 11:19).
• Isaiah and his wife were commanded to give their three sons names that communicated God's messages to Israel and its neighbors (Isaiah 7-8).
• Hosea was commanded to marry an adulteress and to give their children names signifying God's judgment and subsequent compassion on Israel. He found her and brought her back after she'd run off on him: a picture of God's forgiveness and compassion on Israel (Hosea 1-3).
• Ezekiel was commanded not to mourn when his wife passed away, foreshadowing the pent-up grief of Israel when facing impending judgment (Ezekiel 24).

Israel is also depicted frequently as God's rebellious offspring and stubborn child, at risk for covenant curses like sparse offspring and a blotted-out name (Isaiah 48). The future looks bleak for Israel's offspring (plural). Yet a kernel of hope remains in an offspring (singular) who will be a shoot growing from a stump and a holy seed. He will offer Israel a new beginning. Curiously, he himself will suffer terribly and die -- but then will see his offspring and enjoy a long life (Isaiah 53:10). What kind of descendants can be gained through a sacrificial death?!

More good news targets those deprived of family. In Isaiah 54, the barren woman has more children than her married peer. The eunuch may once again enter the assembly and God’s holy temple. He is promised an everlasting name better than sons and daughters (Isaiah 56). How could these promises come true?

New Testament

While Jesus never tried to undermine or destroy family values, He ushered in something greater: Kingdom values. Jesus' few words on singleness were enough to shock his mostly Jewish audience. For example: 

"The sons of this age marry and are given in marriage, but those who are considered worthy to attain to that age and to the resurrection from the dead neither marry nor are given in marriage, for they cannot die any more, because they are equal to the angels and are sons of God" (Luke 20:34-36). 

In other words, marriage isn't necessary for those who have eternal life in Christ, because the species will continue without physical procreation. Um... isn't that ignoring other benefits of marriage? What about the joy, fulfillment, and personal growth that can result from long-term intimacy with another person? Yes, those are good, but Jesus implied that in the new creation we'll have even better relationships without marriage. So the currently single are "worthy" to reflect that coming reality. We celebrate the truth that we already have eternal life and already belong to God's family. 

In Matthew 19, Jesus took an extreme stance on divorce, stating it's permissible only following adultery. The stunned disciples retorted, "If such is the case of a man with his wife, it is better not to marry." In their Jewish culture, not marrying was an absurd idea. Maybe they expected their hyperbole would force Jesus to modify his statement. Instead, in verses 11-12, he affirmed their words: 

"Not everyone can receive this saying, but only those to whom it is given. For there are eunuchs who have been so from birth, and there are eunuchs who have been made eunuchs by man, and there are eunuchs who have made themselves eunuchs for the sake of the kingdom of heaven. Let the one who is able to receive this receive it."

This third category of eunuch would have surprised them. Jesus was saying there should be some people who willingly forego marriage and parenting, freeing themselves to better serve God's kingdom. This choice was not inferior to marriage, but was a good decision for those who could handle it.

Jesus had no home, spouse, or biological children. But he instructed and invested in his disciples and other followers like a father with his children. He lived not in isolation but in community, in concentric circles of relationships that included women.

New Testament authors like Paul built on the prophets' theme to identify Jesus as the singular offspring heralded by the prophets (Galatians 3:16). By faith all may become true heirs of Abraham and of God, not as physical descendants but “children of the promise” born through spiritual regeneration (Romans 9:8). Under the new covenant in Christ, the significance of singleness changes as God's plan of redemption further unfolds. People no longer need marriage and physical offspring in order to receive God's blessings like they did under the Sinai covenant: 

• Children: We're no longer commanded to "be fruitful and multiply" but to "make disciples of all nations" (Matthew 28:19). Spouses and children are still a great blessing, but we can fulfill God's purposes without them.
• Land: Our inheritance is not dirt to farm and live on and leave to our children, but eternal life and citizenship in heaven (1 Peter 1:3-4, Philippians 3:20). 
• Name: Our name is no longer at risk of being forgotten if our descendants die out, but is an indicator of eternal life (Revelation 3:5). 

Why singleness matters

All believers now have access to genuine relationship and intimacy with others in the church, God's family. While these friendships don't substitute for a spouse and physical children, they are still vibrant and meaningful. They point to the beautiful renewed relationships we'll enjoy with our Father and His family in the age to come, when marriage no longer exists. 

I appreciated that reminder. I tend to view singleness as if it's supposed to be a temporary, short-term state, while marriage lasts a lifetime. That's the American dream, right? Find your soul mate, marry, and live happily ever after. But actually marriages can end at any moment. Most people die single, and all of us will be resurrected single. Nobody who experiences God face to face will say, "I just miss being married," because marriage was never meant to be more than a dim reflection of that glorious relationship. Singleness, not marriage, characterizes our true "happily ever after." This revelation led me to start referring to husbands as "temps." :)

The Bible affirms singleness because singles (and childless couples) can testify that Christ is enough for them and that they have received every spiritual blessing in Him. Singles, couples, and families intermingled in the church community illustrate the "now-and-not yet" season we live in, between Christ's resurrection and the age to come. "The spiritual age has already been inaugurated in Christ and awaits imminent consummation." 

This truth is comforting to people without a spouse and/or children. It's also a challenge for the whole church. Are we operating out of Old Testament or New Testament perspectives?

• Are we communicating to our surrounding communities that our goal is to build homes and reputations and thriving families? Or to raise and nurture spiritual children as we make disciples? 
• Are we looking for our inheritance and treasures in the present world, or in the one to come? 
• Are we trying to build our own kingdoms, or God's?

Singles are uniquely poised to seek God's kingdom first, and our presence can remind the church of its extraordinary inheritance when God makes all things new. 

Want more? Read for yourself... or watch Danylak's YouTube overview. I also recommend this catechism for a Biblical perspective on questions commonly posed by singles (and others).

My Arctic Blast Party

Sometimes, your heart finds itself craving snow, even the fake kind.

You'd think by hot season #8, I'd be used to this. It's certainly getting more predictable: lows in the 80's, highs in the upper 90's, high humidity, extreme UV index, RealFeel consistently 15 degrees above the actual temps. I've improved at navigating my fatigue, mood swings, and lagging motivation, and given up on trying to sleep without air conditioning. 

But when I first arrived, another expat described Cambodia as "never boring," and my adopted homeland has made a valiant effort to live up to this slogan. This hot season is breaking heat records, and a drought means the hydroelectric power plants can't keep up, leading to frequent power cuts nationwide. Last time I faced this many power cuts was my very first hot season in 2010, likewise a doozy, when my school moved to an under-powered neighborhood. We lost power daily, but other areas were fine.

This year the government announced that they'd flip-flop everyone's cuts between mornings and afternoons, 6 days a week for 3 months (through May), until the rains replenish the dams. That's been pretty accurate at my house so far, but others throughout town have experienced many nighttime outages as well as water shortages. At least it's somewhat predictable, and plenty of nearby cafés have generators if I really need Internet or a break from the heat. Many people have it far worse than I do: farmers, small business owners, babies with incessant heat rash, even Logos teachers trying to keep their students alert and learning.

Lately, whenever the power has gone out and I've sat sticky with sweat, trying to work, my mind has drifted to the outlandish plans I used to make with my Logos teacher roommates. "Let's take our mattresses and go sledding down the stairs!" "We're gonna dump shredded coconut all over the floor and make snow angels!" But hot season during my Logos days always found us in end-of-year survival mode, juggling extra events like banquet in addition to finals and report cards. Just ask my poor roommate with a May birthday - parties rarely made the cut. I think the closest we ever came to a winter party was in 2012, watching "March of the Penguins," and even that was in late May after school got out. 

I have vivid memories of that movie. I watched it two weeks after a dear friend left the country suddenly due to a life-threatening illness, the week my first roommate and closest friend was moving away, and the week that one of my students was killed in a moto crash. My roommates and I collapsed in emotional and physical exhaustion, trying to collect ourselves before flying out to see our families. Between fits of sobbing, I sank into the couch and stared desperately at the whimsical creatures navigating a perilous bright-white landscape to give their children a chance at life. I wanted so very badly for those baby penguins to survive, to thrive, to know the joys of sliding across the ice and diving into the deep.

This hot season has been less busy and much less traumatic than that one. At the same time, the heat's been fraying everyone's nerves. So after the Khmer New Year break, I decided - why not really do it? Why not throw a party? My roommate was out of town (hosting's not her favorite), and I had no plans, so last weekend seemed like as good a time as any. In the US, if I started announcing a party 2 days in advance, I'm not sure anyone would come. Here, it's no problem. I ended up having 15 people representing 9 nationalities at my party! But to my amazement, we had no parking issues in the tiny alley downstairs where my neighbors and I cram our motos. And there were just enough chairs for everyone, scattered at tables across the balcony as well as squeezed into my small kitchen. 

I called it an Arctic Blast Party. Here's my description: 

Is this hot weather giving you cold feet about your commitment to Cambodia? Are power outages melting your smile into a frown? Do you find yourself with a sudden burden for the people of Iceland? Come join the cool kids and party like a polar bear! Rekindle your love for the Kingdom of Wonder with frozen snacks, frost-themed games, and a frigid movie. 

My plan was to vote on a movie, but we didn't even get that far. However, we did a Penguin Relay with ice-filled socks between our legs to represent penguin eggs. We competed on polar trivia and bobbed for apples and various tropical fruits in icy-cold water. I decided to skip the snow sculpture competition, but the 4 kids who came played with the fake snow (I used recipe #2). Several adults joined in the kids' paper snowball fight, and we all gorged ourselves on sundaes. 

The "challenge" fruit-bobbing items got the most points...
and multiple people managed to snag them!

This was the first party I've pulled off alone, and a pretty ambitious one at that. Some things didn't go as well as they could have, while others got left out entirely. I gave up keeping score after a while, took no photos (there could have been some great ones), and never declared a winning team or handed out the prizes. Other things like dinner went well only because people pitched in unasked to set up, clean up, or manage the kids. But one sweet moment stood out. For all my endeavors to have fans and ice available to maintain the wintry theme, we ended up outside, away from all of that. Clustered around the sundae bar on the balcony, we chatted and sang to my neighbor's guitar, punctuated with children's laughter. The irony of sweating at my Arctic Blast Party did not escape me, but I wouldn't have had it any other way. It gave me joy to see my friends making friends with each other.

A guest, Keo Mey, took this photo :)

Because sometimes, what overheated hearts need even more than snow is the sweaty hug of human connection.

Thmey Runners and my double life

Good thing I believe in rewriting, because the first draft of this post was vying for World's Most Boring. 

“I’m in a running group. Our group is called Thmey Runners because we run in Phnom Penh Thmey. We go running in a group. Running in a group is more fun than running alone. The runners in my group are nice. We take selfies after our runs. Here are some of them. The end.”

OK, not quite that bad, but you get the idea.

The dirt road loop

And then I started thinking… I’ve been in this group for well over a year. I’m often hunting for blog topics. Why haven’t I blogged about this before? And I had to do a bit of soul-searching.

The truth is, it’s not just because I thought it would be boring.

It’s also because I was afraid of being judged. Because I was disappointing myself.

All those years that I worked at Logos School in my “expat bubble,” I told myself, This is temporary. When I become a ‘real’ missionary, I’ll spend most of my time with Cambodians.

And now I have, and I don’t. Even after the equivalent of 2 years of full-time language study. Even after 7.5 years in country. But I don't always talk about that to the outside world.

Most of my time is probably spent alone, actually, often on my computer, reading and writing in English. Second to that is time spent speaking English with other expats and occasionally Cambodians. A distant third is hanging out in Khmer with Cambodians who don’t speak English. Compare that to Logos, where even if I wasn't using Khmer most days, I was spending hours each day with my Cambodian students.

Part of that is my ministry focus: a big chunk of my job right now is helping other World Teamers to learn Khmer, a task done entirely in English. I'm hoping that proportion will shift over time.

Part of that is convenience and choice – the people I’ve clicked with, the people who invite me. Like these runners, who join me many Tuesdays and Thursdays, who are mostly English-speaking expats, who have become my friends since I returned to Cambodia in 2017, often through language school. I knew I’d still have expat friends through my Logos connections … but I didn’t realize how many expat friends I’d make entirely outside of Logos. Phnom Penh has a LOT of expats, even far from downtown.

Special workouts for Thanksgiving and Christmas

I realized my hesitation about writing this post when trying to describe the group makeup. “We’ve tried to recruit some Cambodians, but running isn’t very popular here. Only a couple have come more than twice, so most of us are expats.” It’s true to some extent. When one friend said she might join us sometime, I told her we generally ran 3k (2 miles) on Tuesdays. She gasped. “3k! And you run the whole way?!” I decided not to tell her that Thursdays are more like 5-6k. One of my neighbors has told me at least twice that I should be careful not to exercise too much, even though I work out less than the US guidelines recommend. In this culture, toned is NOT a good look for women, I think because it makes you look like a farmer or a manual laborer.

However, we usually pass a few Khmer runners on our route, and plenty of Khmer students are in the running club at Logos. So that can’t be the whole story. Several of the Cambodians who came were motivated to try and just didn’t have the stamina. We tried to accommodate them, with the group split into “short loop” and “long loop.” One built up his endurance and is now able to keep up the whole way. Others didn’t return, hopefully not because we embarrassed them or made them feel unwelcome, but I do wonder occasionally. If I were better at meeting them in the middle, would they be more inclined to come? What would it look like to join existing groups of Cambodians instead of trying to include a couple brave souls in with all these English speakers? Khmer aerobics classes are a pretty tame workout, and I'm not much of a team sports person, though I played soccer a couple times in Preah Vihear. 

A Thmey Runner organized this hiking/camping trip last month

The truth is, I run every week with mostly expats, and I enjoy it. I enjoy our chats. I enjoy the motivation to get out of bed, to keep going, to reach our target distance. I enjoy feeling tired at the end of the workout, though I could do with being a bit less sweaty and flushed. I even enjoy running on the street, with the dust and fumes and dogs, compared to a sterile, stationary treadmill. I enjoy doing something that I would do back home, with people who understand certain aspects of my life back home.

A teammate asked me last month, “How do you manage to spend so much time with Cambodians? On Facebook it looks like you hang out with them all the time!”

“I don’t really,” I answered. “It’s just always documented when I do.”

So there you have it, my dirty little secret. Even when my blog and social media seem filled with Cambodians, even when I have the same power cuts and the same juicy-sweet mangoes and even the same little “duckling” moto as many Cambodians, I am spending hefty chunks of time in a parallel expat-bubble universe. And despite our weekly selfie tradition, that reality doesn't always show up in the highlights reel.

I really do generally enjoy spending time with Cambodians. And I will keep looking for ways to broaden and deepen my relationships with them. But for the foreseeable future, part of my life will be in my “comfort zone” with English speakers and expats.

I think I'm OK with that.

Side note: In America there can be an "English-only" attitude: "Why do people come here if they're not going to learn the language and start living like we do?" Let me tell you, that is SO much harder than you'd think if you've never tried it. Even for those who, like myself, have the time and energy and money to learn. Also, I'm not sure which nationality is the best at adapting and integrating to a new culture and language, but I don't think it's Americans. So please go high-five your nearest non-native English speaker and thank them for the hard work they've done to bridge the gap between their culture of origin and yours. OK, rant over.

Planning lessons using "I do, We do, You do"

The text below is my script for a recent event with the Cambodia Teacher Community on lesson planning. I've enjoyed volunteering with these events every other month since last October, but this month was extra special, getting to co-speak with a teacher named Rumny!

Nakru (Teacher) Rumny just shared about the Khmer format for lesson planning. Now, I want to build on that by helping you plan lessons that connect your objectives to your activities and assessment. This will make your lesson plan flow smoothly and help your students grow so they can reach the objectives. My objective is that you can recognize and use the steps in the teaching technique called “I do, we do, you do.”

One difference from Khmer schools is that in American schools, there is not just one format for lesson plans. It depends on the state, school, and level. But every American lesson plan includes many of the same components or parts that we saw in Nakru Rumny’s presentation just now, including objectives, activities, and assessments.

Today, I want to share with you a teaching strategy recommended by American education specialists. Research shows evidence that it works in many different subject areas, with many different age groups. This strategy is also easy to use outside of a classroom. Actually, all of you have learned before using this strategy.

Raise your hand if you know how to wash the dishes. Do you remember how you learned?

Let’s think about the girl in this picture. We’ll call her Pich ("Diamond").

At the beginning, Pich’s family wanted her to help wash the dishes. So their objective was, “Pich will be able to wash the dishes.” 

How do you think they taught her? Did she read a book about it? Did she memorize 10 steps for scrubbing a pot? Did she take a multiple-choice test about it? Probably not.

Here’s how I think she learned. There are 3 steps:

• First, she watched other people wash the dishes. 
• Then, other people worked with her to wash the dishes. Maybe they helped her put on the gloves, guided her hand while she scrubbed, and told her to move the bowl around under the water so the whole bowl would be rinsed off. 
• Then she did it on her own while they watched. 

Maybe she’s still not ready to wash dishes without them watching. Maybe they still check to see if she uses too little soap, or if she left a dirty spot on a spoon, or if she puts a glass where it could fall and break. That way they can correct her until she’s able to succeed all by herself at this objective of washing the dishes.

There is a name for this teaching strategy. It’s called, “I do, We Do, You Do.” I is the teacher. We is the teacher and students together. You is the students.

During “I do,” the teacher shows a skill or procedure or explains information, while the students watch. During “We do,” the teacher helps the students practice. During “You do,” students practice while the teacher watches and gives feedback. Notice that in “I do,” the students are passive, but in “We do” and “You do,” they are active. Being active helps them understand and remember it long-term.

Planning “I do, we do, you do” starts by thinking about the objective. What will be difficult for students about this objective? What do they need from the teacher? This helps us organize the first step: "I do." During “I do,” the teacher does or says something while the students watch. Maybe the teacher shows how to use a water pump. Maybe she reads a story or lesson. Maybe the teacher demonstrates a math problem, or shows an example of a project that students will do.

“I do” is important so that students will understand the objective. But if we stop at “I do,” the students will not do the objective, and we will not know if they are able to do it. They need to actively practice the objective. But probably they are not yet ready to do the objective by themselves. So next step is “We do.”

To plan “We do,” the teacher thinks about the support that students need so they can do the objective. Often, we need to break the objective into smaller steps so students can do a little bit at a time. Maybe for math, the teacher has students use blocks to practice addition, or asks a student to come to the board to solve a problem. Maybe for English, she asks students to unscramble some words on the board to make a question. Maybe for geography, she has the students read the textbook about Laos and list some important facts on the board.

The last step? “You do.” To plan “You do,” the teacher looks for ways to let the students practice the objective on their own. Maybe the students work in groups to create a poster about different provinces. Maybe the students do a worksheet. Maybe they practice reading out loud. While the students practice, the teacher observes and is ready to give feedback: either praise or gentle correction. If many students are making mistakes and not succeeding, maybe the teacher goes back to re-teach using “I do” or “We do” until the students are ready to try again by themselves. Homework is another part of “You do” because students are trying a skill when the teacher is not there to help or correct them right away.

The teacher uses “I do, we do, you do” so students will learn to do the objective correctly without any help. Sometimes the students will succeed after just one class. For other objectives like washing dishes or reading a book, maybe they have to practice “We do” for many days before they can move to “I do.” Maybe some students will be ready sooner than other students. But the teacher is always thinking about how much support students need so that they can move toward completing the objective independently.

"I do, we do, you do" is not only useful in a classroom, but also in real life. As a Christian, I found it fascinating to realize that even Jesus used this teaching method. First, he demonstrated love as he honored low-status people, healed suffering people, and washed the disciples' feet. Then he had the disciples join him in demonstrating love to others. Finally, just before he went to the cross, he commanded them to continue loving others the way he had loved: 

"A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another." (John 13:34-35)

After “You do,” the goal is that students can do this without any help or feedback from the teacher. I think many of you already use this technique sometimes when you teach. But I hope that after today, you can identify these steps in your lessons and you can use these steps more often to help you plan effective lessons. Thank you!

Next, I did a brief sample lesson teaching the German names for red, yellow, and blue, and then participants explained how they saw each step of "I do, We do, You do" in my lesson. Then they worked in their table groups to design a lesson on subtraction using all three steps. It's hard to do those activities as an individual blog reader, but instead you can test yourself with these review questions, which I ran out of time for at our event:

Today in my entire lesson, my objective was to teach you about the three steps of a good lesson. Tell me again, what are they? “I do, we do, you do.” Great! But did I use all those steps when I taught you about this technique?

How did I use “I do” to teach you about this technique? 

What about "We do" and "You do?" 

When you're ready, read on for how I tried to include them all:

"I do" - I described an example of this technique to teach a child how to wash the dishes. I also demonstrated a lesson on colors.

“We do” - I had everyone participate in a lesson on colors, and then they identified the steps in my lesson.

“You do” - Everyone worked in table groups to plan a lesson using this technique. Then one table shared their ideas with the whole group and we gave feedback.

Record turnout - exciting to see these events growing!

*None of these photos are mine except the last two. 

Hierarchy

I knew before moving here that American culture generally values equality, while Cambodian culture values hierarchy. I also knew I didn't like the sound of hierarchy. But what does hierarchy mean in practice? After 7+ years here, I'm still learning what it is and how to find my place within it! In this post, I'll explore 6 ways that I've experienced it in Asia.

1. Titles of respect

My former principal at Logos School, who's Canadian, went by Dan. Just Dan. This wasn't that weird for the North Americans on staff, but it was unthinkable for our Cambodian colleagues, who insisted on calling him "Mr. Hein" since English doesn't use many titles. I was confused when I first arrived because Dan always referred to an older Khmer woman on staff as "Nakru (Teacher) Chantorn." She was one of the only Logos employees who was not a teacher: she ran the school office. But I learned that it was simply a term of respect reflecting her age, status, and longevity at our school.

It starts young. Parents make their younger children add "Bong" (Older Sibling) to the names of their older children. But it doesn't stop with kids. Anytime you ask about desirable traits in a spouse, respect for elders/superiors always comes up. And it's rare to call someone, even a non-relative, by their first name if they're more than a few months older: there are dozens of titles ranging from the basic "Bong" to some much more specific ones. This is deeper than just words; at a training last month, a Cambodian told my American colleague, "People here want to hear from you because they respect your white hair."

In fact, Khmer rarely uses the words "I" or "you." Rather, people define themselves in relation to the other speaker. So I could call myself "oun" (younger sibling) or "khmuy" (niece/nephew) when speaking to someone older, but "bong" or "ming" or something else when speaking to someone younger. I'm still bad at this, but I'm trying to reciprocate it more when I hear others use these terms with me.

2. Gestures and positions

The classic Cambodian gesture when saying hello or goodbye is the sampeah, palms pressed together while bowing slightly. But there's more than one way to sampeah, as this picture illustrates. The height of your hands literally reflects the other person's status, often in relation to yours. This gesture is linked with similar ones in Thai, Indian, and Indonesian culture, to name a few.

That's not the only time that height corresponds to status. Another American told me yesterday that she was recently sitting on the floor during a Khmer lesson, while her tutor sat in a chair. The tutor interrupted the lesson to say, "I'm sorry, I know you don't care, but this is too weird for me. I can't sit higher than you. You're older and my employer."

3. Standardized lesson plans

Even America's name is decentralized: United States. And every American has heard that any power not explicitly assigned to the central government belongs to the states. In cases like education, local government, school boards, and individuals all bear influence on a given student's education. Some people push for standardization to ensure equal quality for all students, but many others advocate differentiation to give a voice to local stakeholders closer to the situation of each school or classroom.

In Cambodia, there are no elective courses, just two tracks (math/science vs. humanities) that somewhat affect high schoolers' schedules and 12th grade exit exam. There are no school district calendars because the whole nation is on the same calendar, (At least in theory... I've heard that rural schools sometimes unofficially extend the holidays, telling students, "Eh, let's take another week.") And every teacher learns the exact same format for lesson plans, which includes a heading with the lesson title and subtitle, among other things, and allots 2 minutes at the beginning for taking attendance. These may not be used daily, but anytime they have to submit a lesson plan, it must follow this format exactly.

This standardization made for an interesting conversation with my co-speaker, Rumny, when we planned our talk on Khmer vs. US lesson plans for earlier this month. I told her there was no such thing as a "US lesson plan" per se, but lots of different tips and templates that various American teachers used. Rumny was baffled. "You mean everyone just makes up their own design?" In response, I googled "American lesson plan template" to make sure I wasn't missing something. I found only 3 results, none of which was relevant.

4. Flash card placement

Many countries have centralized education systems: France and Austria come to mind. But in Southeast Asia, teachers' deference to authorities can be extra pronounced. I recently heard a talk by an American teacher trainer, Tom, working in a country neighboring Cambodia. Tom described once giving a seminar on teaching English using flash cards, where at the end a local teacher raised her hand.

"You told us to hold the flash cards over our heads, but we learned in teachers' college to hold them to the right of our faces. Which one should we do?"

"Great question," Tom responded. "We have some authorities in the room - let's ask them." The school principal, district education leader, and provincial education leader proceeded to debate among themselves for 30 minutes regarding the optimal position. Three levels of government wanted to weigh in about where to hold the flash cards – no wonder change is slow! Finally they stuck to the official stance: next to the teacher's face.

Meanwhile, Tom - like all the teacher participants, sitting at the students' desks and listening - could see the problem. In the crowded classroom, many students had an obstructed view of the teacher's face and could only see the flash card if it was over her head! Tom pointed out to me and the other conference participants that as the highest authority in their classrooms, it could appear shameful for teachers to raise a flashcard over their heads. However, when teachers had students hold flashcards during their lessons, Tom noticed that the students all knew what to do. They raised them high above their heads without hesitation! I don't know if Cambodian teachers have a "proper" placement for flash cards, but it wouldn't surprise me.

5. Patron-client relationships

This is a complex issue that I can't fully address here. But patron-client relationships are a bond that goes deeper than just a cut-and-dried transaction. They could be between:

• employer and employee
• government official and residents
• a wealthy person and their poorer relatives

There's a set of obligations that each must fulfill: the patron protects the client, while the client shows respect and loyalty to the patron, a bit like parents care for their kids, who must obey their rules. Cambodians who see themselves as clients will be careful not to challenge or contradict their patron, and might hope to receive a job, medical care, or a scholarship for their child through the patron. Connections are essential here for getting things done! Anyone perceived to have power or money is fair game as a potential patron, which means foreigners need to tread carefully and be aware of cultural dynamics and expectations. 

Patron-client relationships aren't inherently good or bad; it's how people use them. As you can imagine, it can spiral into oppression or unhealthy dependency, but it can also be a mutually caring relationship. As Cambodian culture modernizes and many people leave the countryside for the city, the web of patron-client relationships is becoming more interwoven and more fluid than it used to be.

6. Prayer

This point ties in with #1, titles of respect. Khmer doesn't conjugate verbs according to person or tense (I go, she goes, we went, they will go) but it does have levels of formality to its verbs, which I suppose is a bit similar. Royalty/divinity, monks, elders, equals, and children/animals all have completely separate words for actions like eating. (The fact that royalty and divinity are lumped into the same category, while children and animals are together in a different category, also tells you something.) The respect attached to titles and verbs made it really fun for Bible translators, since Hebrew and Greek aren't organized by hierarchy in this way.

When Christians pray, they always use royal/divine language, just like Buddhists would use for Buddha. So not only the titles and verbs, but also the body parts, are completely unrelated to the words used to describe ordinary people. Jesus (Preah Yesu) doesn't have regular hands (dai), he has divine hands (preah hoah). He doesn't speak (niyay), he has a divine word (mien preah bantoul). This makes prayer a mouthful and scary for me to do out loud in front of a group. But it also reminds me of God's glory and power. He is not like us. He is far greater.

Last week, in an online meeting, I listened to a French teammate pray aloud. I was struck by how French prayer uses the familiar tu form for "you," just as English used to use "thou," which now sounds old and stodgy but used to be the familiar form you'd use with close friends and family. His prayer made God sound so near and tender.

My teammate's prayer was a great reminder for me that both are true. God is the pinnacle of every hierarchy - and He's the humble servant who was born in a manger and washed the disciples' feet. He reigns over all the universe - with the compassionate presence of a mother. At Christ's feet every knee will bow - the feet that were pierced in the most humiliating of executions. He commanded Christians to honor our human authorities - and He befriended the lepers, the prostitutes, those with no power or status.

God doesn't pick sides in the fight between hierarchical and egalitarian cultures. He fulfills them both perfectly and transcends them. At their best and most beautiful, both echo His glory and goodness.