Faiyoum/Fayoum/Fayum/Faiyum/Egypt is inconsistent...

So... Egyptians are not consistent with their spelling. Even the name of their own country. It uses three letters in Arabic, none of which are vowels, so when they write it in English, it's either "Mosr" or "Misr."

I went to Faiyoum (?) with the wonderful Maryam Mosa for a few days. She is so sweet, and she invited me to stay in her village for a few days. Her village is actually called Byada, but it's close to Faiyoum. We took a minibus to the metro, where we then got another minibus that took us to Faiyoum. Then we took what looked like a mix between a hearse and a pizza truck into Byada. From there we took a tktk (Yes, I just spelled a word without vowels) to Maryam's house. If a car and a tricycle could have a baby, it would be a tktk. I don't know how else to explain it. Or I guess I could describe it as an olive with three wheels and curtains instead of doors. Before I had even met Maryam's dad, he was already telling her that I am his daughter and he was so excited to have me come over. The floors were cement, and I could smell the farm animals from the second I stepped in the house. The ants made loud crunching noises when I stepped on them. I began to love her house. As she described it, it was very simple, but it was so nice. The irrigation system seemed to be pretty effective in Byada because I had not seen so much green since Holland. There were palm-ish trees all over, green fields, cows, donkeys, and all other kinds of animals. I saw boys racing on donkeys down the road. It was so funny to me. Donkeys can't gallop beautifully like horses can. It just looks awkward when they try. We wore gallabeas (Egyptian dresses) and walked around on Maryam's farm. We fed her cows and ate green things (I have no idea what their called in Arabic, let alone English...) It was different to me, and I loved it. She knew everyone that we passed, and they were all so friendly. I realized that even if I had lived in Egypt my entire life, I still wouldn't know how many times to kiss the women on the cheek. I think it's two, and then they go for the third. I go for the third, and they go for six. All the meanwhile they are saying things like "Om le'e (How are you?)" "Al Humdilallah..." and other things. I was confused, but they were really sweet. The people were so wonderful. They all wanted me to come over, and they were so concerned with if I was eating enough and if I was comfortable. I realized that I show hardly any concern for my own guests (let alone my neighbors' guests!) compared to what these people showed me. They all invited me to stay for Christmas, and they were so hospitable and wonderful. I really liked being there. Maryam and I went upstairs, past where the chickens and ducks live, onto the roof and talked. We leaned up against the "dove" (pigeon) house and looked off into the distance at a man galloping on a donkey while talking on his cell phone. The roofs are all so close together that you don't really even need streets. You could just walk from roof to roof. It was so cool. I felt like I was in a book. Maryam's dad would ask me in Arabic whose daughter I am. "Ana binte Mosa." I really liked Maryam's sister Reda and her family. We got to cook a lot too. It was such a good time.






I kept seeing this cute little girl named Myrna looking at me, so I asked her her name. I didn't know where Maryam went, so I stepped outside just to walk in front of the house, and Myrna said something to some kids around the corner, and all these little boys came running and stopped when they saw me. It was so cute. They all ran to see the pale American in a red gallabea. I was embarrassed about how little Arabic I knew. I didn't even know how to say hi to a group... and then when I thought about it, it was probably just the same because "SabaH el khyer" and "Ahilan" don't seem conjugated. I wrote, "Here comes Myrna again. She's peering in the doorway. Now she's watching me write and she has no idea that I am writing about her."

I felt bad having Maryam come all the way back to Gabal with me to bring me back to the school, so I tried to convince her to just take me to the minibus that is headed for El Marg, and I would be fine from there, but she refused because I am her sister. I fell asleep in the minibus, and when I woke up, she told me that the man next to her was asking if we were married and kept trying to talk to her. She leaned away from him, and he said, "Don't worry. I don't bite. I have two wives at home." Yeah, and what's a third to you, buddy? Gross. The man to her left and then men in front of us kept staring at us. I kept my eye on her to make sure that he wasn't trying to touch her leg or anything. Anytime that we talked or even whispered, the man in front of us would turn around and smile and try to listen. Go away, you weirdo. And then soon they were all talking in Arabic about how we "were talking about them" and were trying to get her to talk to them, so she told me that it was best if she and I stopped talking. What creeps. The guy in front asked her if I liked Egypt. She nodded. He said that he would "put me in his mind," which in Arabic means that he would take good care of me. Turn around. The man with two wives told her that she was very beautiful. They kept asking why she was so "hard" and why she wouldn't talk. I didn't want to answer my phone when someone called because I wanted to avoid as much attention as possible. She said that they didn't say anything bad - it was all okay, but she really had no business talking to them. At the end of the ride, they told her that they were mad at her and me, but mostly her because she is Egyptian and should have talked to them. Boo hoo.

I am really trying to avoid stereotyping people based on their religions because I have much closer contact with the Christians, but as far as the guys on the streets go, the Christians haven't bothered me. This could be because there are 9x as many Muslims as Christians, so it would only make sense that more Muslims bother me. But I can't help but consider what kind of influence a religion that openly declares in its holy book that women are not as valuable as men has on the people. If I am property, why would you respect me as your equal? That reminds me of when I was talking to Maryam's sister Reda and her husband Nasr. I said something about how a man will go to prison for hitting his wife in America. Nasr asked, "And what if she hits him?" I proudly responded that she could go to prison too because everyone is equal. He laughed. I love equality. I mean, things are not perfectly equal, but according to the law, we're equal, and I just love it so much. I was planning on listening to Lee Greenwood's "Proud to be an American" (thank you, Jordan) on the way back, but I soon discovered that my iPod was dead. Oh well. I'll save it for another time and probably cry. haha. But maybe.

I miss Jessica and Krista. I love them so much.

My parents and Rafaela are coming to visit soon! I can't wait. I'm trying to plan as much as I can in advance so that I am not stressed out when they get here. We're going to go into Gabal and get Koshary, take a minibus and the metro somewhere, go to Khan El Khalili, go with Mina and Abanoub to Alexandria. We're also going to go to Aswan and Luxor, to the Cairo Museum, and the pyramids. There's too much to see everything in Egypt, but we'll get a lot done. I am already preparing myself for being frustrated with untimely transportation and for people ripping us off. My dad said that they are bringing my two bags of walnuts. Al Humdilallah. (Praise be to God.) I've been so sincerely concerned about my omega-3s. I know how pathetic I sound, but I am really excited for that. Plus, I want to see how all these guys act around my dad because they're always joking about how they're going to go call "Amu Joooohn" whenever I put them in their place. They love to joke around with him, but they will probably be dead silent. haha. Well, goodnight.

Parts of My Journal

Tuesday, November 17, 2009 11:59 pm - in the mosquito net (I guess "under it") on my bed

Today at dinner, Jessica leaned toward me and said, "Why am I eating jelly and cheese with a spoon? Because I am in Egypt." I laughed so hard. I'm no longer "healthy Sara." My standards have gone so far down.

Michael can frown better than anyone I know. It is so funny. I really like him. He is such a nice guy. He also offered to help me grade some of my papers sometime.

Girls can't lay down in front of guys, even their dads. Girls should say "ya ma'alim," according to ___. Girls aren't actually people, so they should probably be beaten and knocked around and harrassed.

We're watching "The Ultimate Gift" in my 9th grade classes. It's cute and they like it. It's a nice break for me too. :)

Thursday, November 19, 2009 10:02pm - on the new couch at the Decker's house!

_______ just came here to talk to me. Poor thing. She talked to me once before. It's totally different from how she appears. She's so frivolous and sanguine, but she is so depressed... She was sobbing and telling me about how she's so bad and wants to die. She was crying in my arms on the balcony of the girls dorm. So tonight, she came looking for me because she was so lonely. She feels like people don't really love her. I told her how much God loves her and wants to hug her and help her up when she falls. She told me that I'm the only one here who encourages her. She said I'm like her little sister. Little sister? Really? Haha, Oh Lord, I don't feel passionate enough. I don't feel like I'm praying enough. She's slipping and she hates herself, and I'm not constantly begging for God's presence. Oh little _______. She cried into my neck and hugged me. I loved it because I felt like I was there for her. It was so sincere.

November 23, 2009 12:34 am - on my bed

alashan ana shooftuk - because I see you
hhazeena - sad
ala fikra - I think

Dry crusty feet and legs. Ew. I feel so fat too. I always say this, but I need to start exercising hardcore.

Funniest thing: I was joking out by the ping pong table and saying that Abanoub can't be trusted. Michael agreed and said something like, "Yeah, he can't be trusted." In his victim voice Abanoub asked, "But why?" Michael said, "Because you have a tattoo on your palm!" Haha! What kind of person gets a tattoo on their palm.

I read 2 Corinthians 12 today, and I had been so annoyed and frustrated with 2 Corinthians because it was boring and hard to follow. But this I could concentrate on, and I cried. I feel like I understand, "My grace is sufficient for you for My power is made perfect in weakness." It's not just being poor or having diseases that could be thorns in your flesh, but your character as well. I though, "God, change me! Change my mind! Why ... Take it away! Change me." I am still the same person, and I will probably always struggle with the same things, but I can still overcome because my weakness exemplifies God's power. I got a fuller understanding of it that I can't quite articulate.

I talked about pride today as a worship though in all of my classes. I felt very good about it. I talked about how we always have excuses, as did Adam and Eve, but that doesn't justify sin. And if we can't admit when we are wrong, God can't work with us. Satan fell from Heaven because of his pride, and Jesus was killed because the people were too proud to admit that they were wrong. I asked, "When is the last time that you told someone that you were truly sorry about something without making excuses?" "I'm sorry. I was wrong." If you can't think of a time, you really need to watch yourself.

Dominique is so funny. I try not to laugh at him because he's usually hitting on me subtly in corny ways (but not enough to call him out on it), but he's so funny. I love Gonjowk in 10th grade. He is so sweet. I want Benjamin James to do really well because he tries so hard.

Gladys shared her testimony Friday night, and I wanted to cry. She's such an ENFJ/INFJ and I love her. She made a decision to love the unlovables. It was so good. It convicted me that I really need to have a perfect husband. God must lead. I wanted to cry for ____. It has to be able to be better than that. Oh Lord, please be with them.

Thursday, Nov. 26, 2009 6:05 pm - kneeling on the floor, writing on the bed

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!! I am so full I could throw up. We ate Mexican food at the Deckers'. It was so good. Black beans, pinto beans, flautas, mashed potatoes... We then started to watch "The Polar Express," and the boy was all distraught about whether or not there was a Santa, so he ran to the bookshelf and started flipping through a book. Chim said, "Calm down, Sara Olakowski." I laughed so hard. I was flattered.

We played football today. :)

Friday, Dec. 4, 2009 10:25 am - in my place on the steps outside the church

Oh, before I forget to write about it: I gave a worship thought on "Character is who you are in the dark," DURING PRAYER (name) tried to sneak up to my desk to take (name 2)'s homework to copy it because (name) didn't do his. Are you kidding? I was awestruck.

December 14, 2009 1:32 am - on my bed

I just got tangled in the mosquito net trying to get in here. I love Krista. We laugh so much together. We just tried on our tackiest gallabeas (mine has music notes and says "Illinois" on it...) and we took pictures with Jessica while she was sleeping...

The tenth graders are getting really into Night. We have two pages left. The room is dead silent while I read. Thanks, God.

Today was a hard day for me. The cheating is incessant. The lying is just as bad. I was worn out and exhausted from arguing about their punishments. I show them mercy, and I should have shown more. Really?

I wish I could teach 9th grade Bible next semester. Oh, what I would do for that!

Oh! Krista was explaining "explosion" to (name), and she mentioned Hiroshim. He said, "Yeah, and that's why their eyes go like this!" and he pulled down on the corners of his eyes. Haha! Krista said, "No. You're black, I'm white, and their eyes do that. It's the same thing."

December 24, 2009 8:54 pm - Pastor Llew's house

"I am evermore standing on the precipice of who I am and who I could be." -Alec
(name) said to Alec, "Is it scientifically proven that when women get married, they get fat?"
(name2) told Alec that he wouldn't want to go to America because people have sex in the streets.
(name3), in a paragraph about his future, wrote that he wanted to marry a "beautiful woman or a rich man." Every time I looked at him that day in class, I started laughing.
(name4) "changed his brain" and decided to pass the ball instead of shoot it.

Shagia's lines: "So what?" "So what shall I do?" "Don't." "Don't even think about it." "You're gonna lose your life." I love Shagia. haha.

Jessica told me that the word for want and the word for need is the same in Arabic. There is no difference. That's scary.

You know you're an SM in Egypt when...

• it doesn't take conscious effort to remember to put the toilet paper in the garbage can.
• you don't hesitate to use pieces of the cardboard roll as toilet paper for a few weeks because you're out and too cheap to buy more.
• you're used to doorknobs not turning.
• you sneak awkward side hugs to the guy SMs in the staff room or at Pastor Tom's house because it's socially unacceptable and you are bad to the bone.
• you can fall asleep on a typical minibus ride where the driver is blasting his music and driving in a way that throws you all over the bus.
• you wear the same clothes every day, but it's okay because everyone else does too.
• you wake up in the middle of the night because your face and hands itch so much.
• your legs are so bitten that anyone back home would think that you contracted smallpox.
• your sheets are blood-stained from your mosquito bites, but that doesn't really phase you.
• you commit a cultural taboo by lifting up your pants to scratch your knees.
• you can pronounce the names Mamdouh, Shenouda, Mahrous, Kout, Mekebeb, Nyadeat, Nyakoun, and Abanoub.
• the names Mamdouh, Shenouda, Mahrous, Kout, Mekebeb, Nyadeat, Nyakoun, and Abanoub become normal to you.
• you don't bust into laughter or offend someone by calling him "Fady," "Moody," or "Tut" (Toot).
• you get angry when there's no gibna (white cheese) at dinner.
• halawa doesn't seem quit so bad, and guavas really don't taste like garbage.
• you embrace the white hotdog bun breakfast every Sabbath morning.
• the required staff meeting has four staff members at it.
• you dump syrup on a cake and call it basbussa.
• you find fingernails in your "macaroni"... multiple times.
• you're not phased by mosquitoes in your hot chocolate.
• oil is a condiment... of which there is never enough.
• you have to have a babysitter to step out of the compound because for the risk of creepy men on the prowl for "mozas."
• you know every single way to express that someone is beautiful in Arabic because your students have called you them.
• it's almost normal to see someone hacking at a donkey's head with a machette.
• a man on the street offers you a half-peeled orange or a camel's leg (knee to hoof) because you're beautiful.
• you can differentiate Arabic songs.
• you're in the habit of not making eye contact and keeping your voice low while on the streets.
• you get your butt grazed on a regular basis, knowing full well that a student would rip of his belt without hesitation had he known what happened.
• random stragers pull you into their homes, name their babies after you, and ask you to marry their sons.
• you've gotten multiple proposals from people, some of which you've never met.
• people you've never met have "fallen in love with your character."
• a three ounce box is too heavy for you to carry and must be given to a man.
• you can't even step out of the classroom with your things without a chivalrous student carrying everything for you.
• you begin to hoard pens because people steal them... and you're part of the problem.
• there are five ninth graders named Deng, and four of them are named Deng Deng.
• sixty degrees is FREEZING!
• Thursday night is the new Saturday night.
• cows make the sound "bitnarrrrr."
• your idea of being scandalous is even considering hanging up your laundry in shorts.
• a man on the metro throws shells of seeds at your feet.
• your school has a rule that girls aren't allowed to faint.
• people gossip about your messy room.
• you have a student who has a tattoo with his name spelled wrong.
• your bread has betles, wood, sawdust, sand, rocks, mysterious brown things, or all of the above in it.
• there are fleas in your bed.
• you drink from the same community cup in the center of campus as everyone else.
• one click means "yes," and two clicks means "no."
• you think you're waving and someone thinks you're calling him over to you.
• flip flops are "ship ships."
• sizes are described by putting your hand against your opposite arm, rather than creating the distance between your two hands in the air.
• snow globes don't look as tacky as they once used to.
• the HoHos are flat.
• tea is a staff meeting essential.
• students spell their names differently on each assignment.
• you give incredibly awkward hugs because you're no longer in the practice of giving them.
• you can go all day without drinking water because it's 1/4 mile walk to refill the jug.
• when a 40 minute taxi ride takes 2.5 hours because people can't admit when they don't know where something is, so they just point and hope that it's the right direction... all for the sake of saving face.
• every main character dies at the end of every popular movie.
• everyone has a pack of kleenex on them at all times.
• telling a student that another student's grade is not their business is considered giving giving someone capsa (public embarrassment).
• "not your father's business" is an insult.
• being known as the son/daughter of your mother is an insult.
• a sousand beoble come ub to you on Friday night and say, "Habby Sabbas."
• students are curious about their last test score and ask where their "testes" are.

I love it here but miss driving in Laura's car.

8:00 pm – in the detention study hall room… where no one is in detention

I am so much more productive when I am on supervision in this room than when I am free to do what I want. I love this. Maybe I’ll be on supervision every night.

Gonjowk just came to check his grade, and he saw that the background of my computer is Andrews’ campus covered with snow. He asked if we use refrigerators in my country. Um… yes… "Your country is a refrigerator!" When I go back to America, I’m supposed to tell the government that “Gonjowk objects to the weather.” Objection is a vocabulary word. Good job. J

I am currently writing a quiz for my ninth graders about if clauses and future tense time clauses. I feel like I have been teaching this forever. Some are still really struggling with it. I wrote out a multiple choice worksheet today where they had a billion different options and they had to choose one that was right. Hopefully that made things more clear. I am always using staff members’ names in my tests and worksheets because I have run out of things to write about. On the worksheet that I wrote at lunch I wrote, “After Mr. Jackson eats his cabbage, he’s going to smile.” Stupid, stupid sentence.

Speaking of sentences, I’ve been having my students write sentences as a punishment. “I will refrain from disrupting Grammar and Writing class because it distracts other students from learning and it is disrespectful to continue to talk after my teacher has repeatedly told me to stop.” Write that a billion times, you who knows three of those words.

I am participating in the strictest Secret Santa game of my life. Benjamin, our SA president is running a tight ship. People are given little things daily. And if you’re not getting things from your secret friend, you can complain to Benjamin about it. I think it’s so funny. When he was explaining the rules, he was very clear that we were not to give our secret friend garbage. We are also not supposed to give things to people if we are not their secret friend. I laughed and laughed at the idea of sabotaging the game. I wouldn’t, but the thought of me planning to ruin it and the frustration level that the intense ISTJ president would reach would be incredibly amusing. (Oh gross… I accidentally spelled amusing with a “z.”)

So I believe that I am officially in stage two of my culture shock, and I am feeding every new piece of information about the culture into my arrogant and ethnocentric theory that this culture is immature. The short tempers, the passionate fervor to keep one’s pride and avoid shame at all costs, the gaudy furniture, the overly dramatic movies with cheesy suspense music, the fact that people actually fight with belts and knives as a normal thing… okay, I’ll stop. I’m not angry or anything right now, but little things get to me sometimes. One of my friends lost his temper so badly the other day when we were at our field trip to the citadel, and I was just astounded. It was scary and it was for a reason that I thought was invalid. I talked to him later and said that if he doesn’t get his anger under control, it’s going to get the best of him and negatively affect any relationship that he has. I told him that to be honest, it makes him less of a man to me if he can’t control himself--which is a huge blow to any guy over here. He listened and said that his father always told him to never be beaten. Nobody is allowed to win over him. If someone is going to start a fight, it will be him, and he will win. He said that his uncle taught him the same thing. When he was little, another boy hit him in the face, and my friend started crying and went to his uncle. His uncle told him that he should never let anyone do that to him and told him to go get the boy back, so my friend threw a rock at the other little boy’s head. I can’t even imagine that mindset. It helps me to understand though.

If anyone from the SM program at Andrews is reading this, I could use my culture shock letter that I wrote to myself. If it’s a flat envelope, it won’t cost me anything. My parents are coming in January too.

Jessica absolutely hates when people say “ridonculous” for reasons of experience, and Alec just taught the smiliest overachiever in the school to say it. It is the funniest thing. He just came to me, and I taught him to make fake guns with his hands and move them in circles while saying“ridonculous” with his thick accent. I feel like the funniest person in the world. I hope that those of you who know the story behind “ridonculous” are amused.

I get to teach Krista’s geometry class because she is going to leave for Christmas a few days early. I’m so excited. Math is my thing. I have realized these past few months more than ever that out of my Introversion, Sensing, Feeling, and Judging, my sensing is the strongest. I am incredibly detail-oriented—above all. Detail-orientation makes one out to be a creep. It’s true.

I feel the strong need to pray with people for people. Yes, I need to pray with people like students for their personal needs, but I also need to pray with someone who is like-minded so that we can pray for the students and the school. I feel like I need to. I am craving it. But I don’t do it. Why? Am I too lazy to get around to it like everything else? Jessica, Krista, and I started out praying together at night, but then we all started going to bed at different times. (By the way, I couldn’t have better roommates. I love them so much.)

I have never experienced so much dishonesty in my life. As I type this, I am watching a student take a test out of the corner of my eye. There’s another student in the room, and I feel like they will be whispering answers to each other. They know A, B, C, and D in sign language because they can drop their hands down by their desk and tell people the answers to multiple choice questions. They will switch quizzes when I am not looking and then deny that the handwriting is not theirs. Hi, I grade your papers, I know that your writing looks like you tried to write with your feet, and his looks like Sam Slikkers wrote it in her font-like writing. I own you. They consider it "helping," and they holding helping a friend in a higher regard than honesty, which is pretty normal for many places in the world.

The floors are easy to slide on. I spend a lot of the time running and sliding around the staff room on my flip flops. Someone has to answer the door? I’ll get it... and I’ll run and slide right to it. I’m on study hall supervision and I’m going to check on the students in the library... let me run and slide all the way there. I feel like a four year old.

These kids talk about God all the time, but I feel like the relationship part is lacking. Their relationships are very works-oriented, cross-tattoo-on-wrist oriented, tattoo-of-the-Virgin-Mary-on-their-bicep-oriented, and Jesus-painting-on-wall oriented, but the part where they know God as their best friend is missing. That is my project. That is my burden. Sometimes I feel so ineffective, and God lets me feel that way. It’s okay. I accept that I will not labor in vain (Isaiah… I don’t remember where. Fifty eight, maybe?), but then sometimes God really uses the students to help me to realize why I am here. I had one of those moments on Saturday. I have been talking to a girl with an addiction, and I felt like I was ineffective and throwing encouraging words into a hopeless abyss, but no. J God is alive and well. Though we don’t always see what is going on, our labor is not in vain. I victory danced (appropriately) and smiled like a fool with this lovely girl. Praise God.

I miss my family and friends. I love it here so much, but I miss you guys. Oh, to have my mom play with my hair… or to drive around in Laura’s car and listen to N*Sync’s Christmas album on the way to Barnes and Noble. I miss studying. I honestly do. I’m not homesick, but there are times when I am reminded of things, and I miss them. I feel like I am finally starting to feel normal. I am glad that I have reached this point.

Unposted from 12/9/09

8:00 pm – in the detention study hall room… where no one is in detention

I am so much more productive when I am on supervision in this room than when I am free to do what I want. I love this. Maybe I’ll be on supervision every night.

Gonjowk just came to check his grade, and he saw that the background of my computer is Andrews’ campus covered with snow. He asked if we use refrigerators in my country. Um… yes… Your country is a refrigerator! When I go back to America, I’m supposed to tell the government that “Gonjowk objects to the weather.” Objection is a vocabulary word. Good job. J

I am currently writing a quiz for my ninth graders about if clauses and future tense time clauses. I feel like I have been teaching this forever. Some are still really struggling with it. I wrote out a multiple choice worksheet today where they had a billion different options and they had to choose one that was right. Hopefully that made things more clear. I am always using staff members’ names in my tests and worksheets because I have run out of things to write about. On the worksheet that I wrote at lunch I wrote, “After Mr. Jackson eats his cabbage, he’s going to smile.” Stupid, stupid sentence.

Speaking of sentences, I’ve been having my students write sentences as a punishment. “I will refrain from disrupting Grammar and Writing class because it distracts other students from learning and it is disrespectful to continue to talk after my teacher has repeatedly told me to stop.” Write that a billion times, you who knows three of those words.

I am participating in the strictest Secret Santa game of my life. Benjamin, our SA president is running a tight ship. People are given little things daily. And if you’re not getting things from your secret friend, you can complain to Benjamin about it. I think it’s so funny. When he was explaining the rules, he was very clear that we were not to give our secret friend garbage. We are also not supposed to give things to people if we are not their secret friend. I laughed and laughed at the idea of sabotaging the game. I wouldn’t, but the thought of me planning to ruin it and the frustration level that the intense ISTJ president would reach would be incredibly amusing. (Oh gross… I accidentally spelled amusing with a “z.”)

So I believe that I am officially in stage two of my culture shock, and I am feeding every new piece of information about the culture into my arrogant and ethnocentric theory that this culture is immature. The short tempers, the passionate fervor to keep one’s pride and avoid shame at all costs, the gaudy furniture, the overly dramatic movies with cheesy suspense music, the fact that people actually fight with belts and knives as a normal thing… okay, I’ll stop. I’m not angry or anything right now, but little things get to me sometimes. One of my friends lost his temper so badly the other day when we were at our field trip to the citadel, and I was just astounded. It was scary and it was for a reason that I thought was invalid. I talked to him later and said that if he doesn’t get his anger under control, it’s going to get the best of him and negatively affect any relationship that he has. I told him that to be honest, it makes him less of a man to me if he can’t control himself. He listened and said that his father always told him to never be beaten. Nobody is allowed to win over him. If someone is going to start a fight, it will be him, and he will win. He said that his uncle taught him the same thing. When he was little, another boy hit him in the face, and my friend started crying and went to his uncle. His uncle told him that he should never let anyone do that to him and told him to go get the boy back, so my friend threw a rock at the other little boy’s head. I can’t even imagine that mindset. It helps me to understand though.

If anyone from the SM program at Andrews is reading this, I could use my culture shock letter that I wrote to myself. If it’s a flat envelope, it won’t cost me anything. My parents are coming in January too.

Jessica absolutely hates when people say “ridonculous” for reasons of experience, and Alec just taught the smiliest overachiever in the school to say it. It is the funniest thing. He just came to me, and I taught him to make fake guns with his hands and move them in circles while saying “ridonculous” with his thick accent. I feel like the funniest person in the world. I hope that those of you who know the story behind “ridonculous” are amused.

I get to teach Krista’s geometry class because she is going to leave for Christmas a few days early. I’m so excited. Math is my thing. I have realized these past few months more than ever that out of my Introversion, Sensing, Feeling, and Judging, my sensing is the strongest. I am incredibly detail-oriented—above all. Detail-orientation makes one out to be a creep. It’s true.

I feel the strong need to pray with people for people. Yes, I need to pray with people like students for their personal needs, but I also need to pray with someone who is like-minded so that we can pray for the students and the school. I feel like I need to. I am craving it. But I don’t do it. Why? Am I too lazy to get around to it like everything else? Jessica, Krista, and I started out praying together at night, but then we all started going to bed at different times. (By the way, I couldn’t have better roommates. I love them so much.)

I have never experienced so much dishonesty in my life. As I type this, I am watching a student take a test out of the corner of my eye. There’s another student in the room, and I feel like they will be whispering answers to each other. They know A, B, C, and D in sign language because they can drop their hands down by their desk and tell people the answers to multiple choice questions. They will switch quizzes when I am not looking and then deny that the handwriting is not their. Hi, I grade your papers, I know that your writing looks like you tried to write with your feet, and his looks like Sam Slikkers wrote it in her font-like writing. I own you.

The floors are easy to slide on. I spend a lot of the time running and sliding around the staff room on my flip flops. Someone has to answer the door? I’ll get it, and I’ll run and slide right to it. I’m on study hall supervision and I’m going to check on the students in the library, let me run and slide all the way there. I feel like a four year old.

These kids talk about God all the time, but I feel like the relationship part is lacking. Their relationships are very works-oriented, cross-tattoo-on-wrist oriented, tattoo-of-the-Virgin-Mary-on-their-bicep-oriented, and Jesus-painting-on-wall oriented, but the part where they know God as their best friend is missing. That is my project. That is my burden. Sometimes I feel so ineffective, and God lets me feel that way. It’s okay. I accept that I will not labor in vain (Isaiah… I don’t remember where. Fifty eight, maybe?), but then sometimes God really uses the students to help me to realize why I am here. I had one of those moments on Saturday. I have been talking to a girl with an addiction, and I felt like I was ineffective and throwing encouraging words into a hopeless abyss, but no. J God is alive and well. Though we don’t always see what is going on, our labor is not in vain. I victory danced (appropriately) and smiled like a fool with this lovely girl. Praise God.

I miss my family and friends. I love it here so much, but I miss you guys. Oh, to have my mom play with my hair… or to drive around in Laura’s car and listen to N*Sync’s Christmas album on the way to Barnes and Noble. I miss studying. I honestly do. I’m not homesick, but there are times when I am reminded of things, and I miss them. I feel like I am finally starting to feel normal. I am glad that I have reached this point.

Red Sea-ish

I don't update my blog enough. Ana asfa. (I'm sorry.)

It is 11:35pm, and I am hoping that typing this will not take too long because I want to know what I am doing for my classes tomorrow before I go to bed. I am starting to get sick again. My tonsils were swollen and I am very congested. Krista asked what color it was when I blew my nose to determine whether it's a cold or allergies. I refused to tell her because I refuse to be an allergy nerd. (No offense to those of you with allergies. I know you can't help it, but I just refuse to have them.) In my tenth grade class, we are still reading Night, which is definitely a challenge for the students, but they're starting to like it more and get used to the big words. We also have finished five units of vocabulary lessons, so we are going to have a unit test soon, and I am planning on having a spelling bee using all 50 words on Thursday. The ninth grade classes watched "Akeela and the Bee" in Jessica's class, and they got super excited, so she had a spelling bee with them. They got really into it. We just finished studying the past tense in ninth grade, and I gave them a fatty unit test. The results... oh boy. I am determining which directions of mine were unclear and which failures I can attribute to laziness. I praise God that I have a book to follow and that I am getting into the swing of things. It's about time, eh?

My standards for food have dropped astoundingly. When I first got here and saw the gibna (white feta-ish cheese) I almost died. Now, I eat it like it's nothing. Everything is deep fried or cooked in oil. We made lunch today for the guy SMs, and we used oil in everything. I've heard, "Just choose healthier things to eat." Really? Bring on the granola... but if you can't, I don't want to hear it. It's hard to find much of anything else. Everything is white and processed, and there are no laws against trans-fats. They have Hostess Hohos here (which are flat, by the way), and I refused to eat them at first. Now, they're like nothing to me. Ugh. I disgust myself. The fruits and vegetables are good here though. We go into town to buy some occasionally. That it good. Oh what I would do for walnuts... You have no idea. Michael got them on top of his ice cream when we were in Alexandria, and he gave me one but it fell on the ground. There was no restraining me. It was a walnut after all. I would kill for omega-3s... almost.

Home leave was amazing. Krista's dad came here (and we had an early Christmas with all of the things that he brought from our parents). We went with him to Sharm El Sheikh, which is on the Red Sea. The bus ride took eight hours on the way there - it should have taken six, but there were many check points where they had to look at our passports. There were some crazy Egyptian movies playing as we rode to Sharm. All of them were incredibly dramatic. The man and woman were screaming and each other, more people were screaming, some people were in love, there was lots of really corny suspense music, and in the end the woman tried to light herself on fire. It was just too weird. (I decided to give myself a vacation-ish last week, and I showed my ninth grade classes "The Ultimate Gift" and had activities for them to do with that. When it was over, some of the guys said that they were not good actors. Um... yes they were. That's how people in America act. "When someone dies in Egypt, the people throw the dirt in their hair and scream." "Oh... not in America...") I snorkeled in the bluest water I had ever seen in my life. If I hadn't been there myself I would have believed the pictures were photoshopped. It was amazing. The water felt soft. Jessica read the story of the Israelites crossing the Red Sea for worship. It was so nice. I snorkeled for two days, and I got to have an introductory scuba diving lesson from Guiseppe ("Joseph"), or instructor. It was the most amazing thing I've ever done in my life. It's a whole new world down there. I felt like the Little Mermaid, and probably would have tried to swim like her had not been holding Joseph's hand the whole time. I just stared at the fish in awe and considered that they are there and act the same way even when there is no one there to watch them. (Well, duh, but it was felt so profound to consider that.)

We heard some pretty great lines while shopping at Naama Bay: 

"You marry me, I give you my shop." 

"I've been looking for a pretty American girl to marry." To which I responded, "Well keep looking."

They thought that it was so funny when we responded in Arabic. They were very surprised too. One man said, "I love you! Will you love me today?" "La. (No.)" He burst out laughing, "But why?!" "Alashan ana oltekeda. (Because I said so.)"

We got the prices much lower than they were selling everything for because we live near Cairo. "Seriously? We live in Cairo. I can get this for 10 pounds."

I get really close to people through one-on-one interaction, and I've had the opportunity to talk to some of the students on a very deep level. Some have shared some very deep problems with me, and many struggle with addiction, insecurity, loneliness, depression, and every other problem that young people struggle with. Please please please pray that God would be everything that they need and that He would strengthen them. I have two particular ones that are struggling with addictions and temptation, and I want to ask you to lift them up in prayer. Thank you so much.

I've been singing a lot more here. Publicly and just on my own. I feel like my voice has improved, and I love singing so much. 

I have to give Krista her computer now. My mosquito repellent is not very effective. We've been sleeping in our mosquito net and joking about the "caged bird" singing. Things always seem to be funnier at night. Much funnier.

Spoons, hot computer, complaining, rambling, & love

Too many spoons were disappearing from the cafeteria, so Pastor Tom decided that everyone gets their own spoon, and they have to bring it to all the meals. If they lose their spoon, they can buy another one for two pounds. When Om Fady (the lady who is in charge of the cafeteria) sees that not too many people have had to buy new spoons, we can go back to the old way of eating. Some of the kids are punching holes in the handles and making them necklaces. Some are wearing them as bracelets. They're having fun. I love young people.

I told my computer to turn off and put it in my bag… but it didn’t turn off apparently. I heard a strange noise coming from it a couple hours later. I pulled out my laptop, which was shrieking and felt like it was on fire, and I forced it off. (I’m sorry Dad…) Since then, my computer has worked just fine, but the fan has been really loud, and the students can’t stand it. They either offer to take it somewhere to be fixed or to break it. (Some have said that they will “attack” it. Attack is a 9^th grade vocabulary word.) I am watching my student Korollos make up a quiz, and the sound of my computer sincerely bothers him. He’s clutching his ears, and he shudders every time it gets a little louder. Oh well… it will teach him patience and help him to love the unlovable. Haha. He just handed it to me, and I graded it quickly. At the bottom he wrote, “With my blessings to you… Kero the prince of love.” Minus 2.

Apparently, this year has been the most academically challenging year that they have had at NUA, and there have been complaints. I don’t know if it is because some teachers aren’t good at teaching or if we are just holding them to higher standards. I am just so annoyed with laziness and irresponsibility. Then I consider that in elementary school, we were given assignment notebooks to write down everything that we had to do. They’ve probably never heard of that, and if they don’t remember what the homework is, they don’t do it. They come up to me a lot and ask, “Do we have anything?” I am passive aggressive. “What do you mean?” I know exactly what they mean. “Tomorrow, Miss!” “You have work and your classes tomorrow…?” “No, Miss!” “Ask me what you mean to say.” “Do we have any homework for tomorrow?” “You tell me.” I’m not always that difficult. I feel like such a complainer on here, and I apologize. One more complaint, and then I’ll talk about good things. For my grammar and writing classes, we’ve been covering the past tense for who knows how long, and so they’ve been working on writing a children’s story. It has to be told in the past tense, and they also have to summarize it, tell me the point of view, character traits, themes, and the other things that I’ve taught them. There aren’t enough computers in the lab for everyone to type their rough draft, so I split up the class. Half of them were in the lab, and the other half I gave a simple writing assignment and said that they could leave if they wanted to but there would be no excuses or complaints later. They had 80 minutes to type their one paragraph-ish stories. How many of the writing assignment did I get yesterday from 9A? Four out of seventeen. Are you kidding me? Are you serious? FOUR?! Then I beasted them and told them how lucky they were that I give them 70% credit for late work. I started out not taking any. “Do you know what you need in this class to go on to tenth grade? 70%. Many of you are failing—not because you are not smart, but you are being very lazy and irresponsible. You tested into this class, so I know that you can do the work. I give you plenty of time, and this is completely inexcusable. If you want to be in ninth grade again, that is your choice. At most high schools and colleges, late work is not accepted, and you had just better hope that you do well on the rest of the assignments.” 9B was a better about it—13/19. I’m done. Sorry.

My students are so funny though. When we have a test, I let them take desks outside, which helps control cheating, and it’s just nice to go outside. One of my 9A guys, David, brought out a desk, and stuck it in a tree, and took the desk up in a tree. I didn’t notice until he was done and couldn’t get it out. Oh I was laughing so hard. Sometimes I try to be serious, but they know when they get me and I can’t help but laugh. I’ll be taking attendance, and they mess with me. “David?” “Always here.” “Dominique?” “Just for you.” Just for you? I tried to keep my mouth shut, but I started laughing so hard. When the students know the answer, they want the world to know, so even if I call on someone, the entire class tries to answer. I’ll call on Jackline. Abanoub shouts out his answer in a sing-song voice. “Abanoub, are you Jackline?” He mutters in Arabic that we are all same to “Messiha.” I start laughing and turn around to write on the board.

Next semester, Jessica does not have to teach Reading anymore (I capitalized “Reading” because it’s the name of a class, not because I’m one of those frivolous, “think-outside-the-box” people that capitalizes random words). Because she is losing two of her classes, she is probably going to pick up a couple of mine, and I am praying that she takes two periods of writing. I can write, but I just have so much trouble teaching it. I own the world when it comes to proof-reading, but I am not creative enough or “big picture-oriented” enough to teach writing. Hopefully then I can teach a pre-algebra class or a Bible class. Maryam Mosa is considering giving me her Bible class. Oh… I would love that. I would absolutely love it. I feel like such a naggy witch of a teacher a lot of the time because grammar is so boring, so they are bored in class and don’t do their homework. But at the beginning, I give a short devotional thought, and in those few minutes, I feel like myself. I feel like if they don’t learn that “There was a boy name magdy he is seventeen…” is wrong, they will at least, hopefully, learn something more about God. They like my stories, and they have a lot of questions, that I would love to address. Answers are so important.

I don’t feel like I’m giving enough. I feel distracted, and I… I guess I know what to do. I just don’t want to. I feel like I could be more effective and like I could be serving more if I was not distracted. While I focus on helping one area, I am missing another. Once again, I am being obnoxiously ambiguous. But I just want to tell you how I feel, without divulging any information. Not fair. I know.

 I’m forgetting my nursing things. I’m going to have my parents bring my pathophysiology book when they come to visit in January. The nurse practitioner here, Peggy Miller, is letting me do some little things. I’ve gotten to give a few IM injections, and I feel a billion times more comfortable with that. Some students have heard that I’m a nursing student, and so they think that I am practically a doctor and that I have permission to excuse them from classes. Hahaha. Sure I do.

Tonight my drama class has their first performance. I stole the skit to “You Were There” by Avalon from camp. We’re doing it Egypt-style. It looks good. I’m excited for them.

I’m on a soccer team. Yes, me. I felt like I should be involved.

I’m learning some Arabic expressions and jokes, and I understand them when I hear other people say them now. “Ya maAlim” kind of means that someone is a good teacher (the meaning is taken from a movie), but it’s in a way where someone owns something. When Jessica did something really well in soccer, one of the guys shouted, “Ya maAlim!” When I was explaining the verb “draw” to 9B and drew a stick figure on the board, Mina yelled, “Ya maAlim.” Haha. He started calling me “Bent e maAlim John,” which is “daughter of the great teacher John.” They always make jokes about my dad. My name, by the way, is Sara John Emil.

I was watching a movie about the Holocaust and there was a scene in a Dutch home, and Jessica and I got excited because it looked like Iwan’s parents’ house in Holland and we had a connection with that. Then we considered what it would be like to see a movie about Egypt a year from now. “That is my place! I understand that! Just so you know, I get it! Yes! Did you hear that?! That’s exactly how it is!” And no one would understand how we would feel. I’m so glad I came with a friend. Leaving here is going to break me.

Read the first few verses of 1 Corinthians 13. If you sing a special music that is not done in love, to heaven it sounds like you are banging pots together. You can give everything to the poor. If it’s not done in love, it’s worthless. “By this all will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another”
 (John 13:35). 

Breakdown and Recovery

I had a breakdown on Wednesday night. I guess it's about time. I've been here a while. I was stressed out because I didn't have a reader to help me grade papers, tests, or quizzes. So in addition to lesson plans and writing worksheets and tests, I had to grade six periods worth of work. I'm adjusting and learning a lot. I know have Sara Miller, the missionary daughter of the nurse practitioner and maintenance man, helping to grade for me. My assignments do not have black and white answers, so I needed an English speaker. I am so grateful.

I'll be very open with you (whoever you may be) and write some of what I wrote in my journal:

October 15, 2009 1:04 am - on my bed

God... I need Your help. I am so stressed. I would love Your peace, but I also need help grading papers. Ah. I just want to cry. How can I not have a reader? But a reader can't grade essays and sentences. Stupid English. Lord, please. I am so tired and I have so much to do in so little time. My grades are a week overdue. I am disorganized and inadequate. I want to bond with students, and I want to help them, but there's no time to grade anything or plan anything at night. I'm so tired. I need help. I don't know what to do. If 7/17 people turn in an assignment, is that my fault? I need to cover things more in depth because they don't seem to be learning a thing! So many have Ds and Fs... what am I supposed to do? DO YOUR HOMEWORK! TAKE MY CLASS SERIOUSLY! Basketball is not spelled "beicetball," (name 1)! (name 2), sit down and shut your mouth! (name 3), stop being so lazy. Just because you people can't cheat on my homework doesn't mean you can skip it. God, I just want You to hug me. I'm so inadequate. ... (stuff I don't want to broadcast to everyone with internet access) ... I'm tired of wearing the same clothes every day. I'm tired of breaking out. I'm a bad person... I could and should be better. Why am I ruining my only SM year? I owe Mrs. Peggy ___ LE for that package from ____. (name 4), stop talking. (name 5), shut up! (name 6), sit up in your desk and act like you are alive. Do not say, "That's enough, ya Miss," or I'll punch you. (name 7 and name 8), why are you in tenth grade? (name 9), open your eyes and close your mouth. (name 10 and name 11), if you lay your head on your desk one more time, I'm going to flip it over. (name 12), don't you dare try to act like I'm an idiot. You need to mind your own business and READ THE DIRECTIONS! To myself: Shape up. Why do you do what will harm you? Oh God, I love You so much.

So now you saw into my ugly soul. Hm. There I am. (For the record, I wouldn't punch anyone or flip their desks over...)

October 16, 2009 1:08am - on my bed

Today started out really rough. I was incredibly stressed, and 10 minutes before my 10th grade class started I had no idea what I was going to teach--no idea. Anything would have pushed me over the edge to make me cry. I was almost crying when asking Jessica for ideas five minutes before class. She saved my life. I taught topic sentences, and it took 80 minutes. Abanoub Khamis asked me to check one of his sentences. It was supposed to be, "I like ___ because ___, ___, and ___." It said, "I like my best teacher Mis Sara. She is my sister because she tell me I need help, she offer to help me, and she patient with me." It was something really close to that. I wanted to cry. He is such a quiet and sweet guy, and I just praise God for using him. To hear that someone thinks that I am patient with him means so much to me.

God has never given me anything more than I could handle. Never. I am so happy to be here.

My Students

I realized that I have been writing about things that are out of the ordinary, and I want to tell you about a normal day for me, especially in describing my students, whom I love. :)

I wake up at 5:50am, and attempt to act awake for my P.E. class. We do taebo on the cement volleyball court because guys can see all the grassy places, and the girls get embarrassed. Hey, if you want to lay on the cement when we stretch and do abdominal exercises at the end, that's fine with me. There are 19 girls in my class. A lot have been skipping lately. Our class average is a C- because the entire grade is attendance and participation. Failing PE... how embarrassing. The girls love to punch. They don't like to kick as much, but I think that the punching makes them feel empowered. Some of them are so cute and try really hard, and some pretend to get hurt. Some girls think that they have the week off if they have their period. "No. Exercise actually helps you to feel better." I own you. I can already see a lot of improvement in the level of cardio activity. I feel really good about that. We offered the class to upperclassmen whose need for PE credits is more urgent because of graduation, but we have a couple girls from ESL in it. Why do they think they're in the class? I have no idea, but we'll give them credit anyway because they come every day. I face the huge orange sun as it rises every day, and if I wasn't doing side kicks and knee raises I would take pictures.

I run back to the room and get in the shower and run off to staff meeting at 7:00. At 7:20, we meet the students on the front steps of the ad building for any announcements. I go back to my room and pray and read my Bible. Then I start working on lesson plans for the day. I don't mean to procrastinate, but I just happen to work better under pressure. I can spend hours and hours trying to plan good things for them to do, and I usually end up changing my mind a half hour before class starts and sticking with those plans. I don't like my system, but it's hard to catch up because there is so much to do every night that I really don't have time to work on them before that.

My first class is 10th grade English, and there are 38 students in the class, which is way too big. We are reading the book Night by Elie Wiesel, and some of the despise it with a passion. It is most definitely a challenging book for them to read because a lot of the vocabulary is very descriptive, and a lot of it has to do with cultural and historical things. I'm really trying to teach them to figure out the meaning of words from the context. Most of the Sudanese students sit in the back and look half asleep. A lot of the girls who are very good students sit to my right, and there are some loud Egyptian guys in the very front right by my desk. Lately we've been having too much talking while I take attendance, so I have been making everyone get out of the classroom and practice coming back in quietly. Krista, Jessica, and I have started doing that with all of our classes. I took attendance in 9B probably four times the other day. For each time we have to practice, we deduct points because it is a waste of time. I thought that it would be a good review of the parts of speech to do mad libs with a partner--a horrendous idea. There was so much noise and confusion and frustration. No, it does not make sense. For some reason the only adjectives people could think of were colors. It was a mess. We started on our next thing, and there was way too much noise today. I don't know what was wrong. It got so bad that I made them put everything away and sit in silence for five minutes--no sleeping, no reading, no writing. We practiced being quiet. Overall I really like the class. I just feel bad because the classroom is so crowded, and it's hard to make sure that everyone is understanding the material when there are almost 40 kids to teach.

Next I have lunch--rice mixed with chopped up fried noodles with this thin red sauce on it. Whatever is in the sauce is the variable--potatoes, okra, eggplant, potatoes, or green beans. I have a little free time then, which is when I finish preparing for my afternoon classes. I don't mean to procrastinate and always feel so rushed, but that's how things always seem to turn out.

Next I teach Grammar & Writing to 9A. This is the more advanced ninth grade class. I am very good with grammar, and I can write well because I am very detail-oriented, but teaching these subjects is hard. I ask Jessica for suggestions a lot because she is so creative. I get bogged down by the details, and she helps me to see the big picture. She is my hero. I teach an idiom every day at the beginning of my classes, and, just as Jessica strongly warned me, they use whatever I teach them... all the time. "To drive someone crazy." The first example that popped into my head as loud music at midnight on a minibus. The second one was when students snap their fingers and shout "Miss! Miss!" at me. So they did it intentionally. haha. I taught "dressed to kill"--biggest mistake of my life. I said that it meant "wearing one's best clothes and looking good." I will be coming back from my PE class covered in sweat with the frizzy hairs around the crown of my head running wild, and someone will say, "Miss, you are dressed to kill!" There's one guy in 9A that always tells me I am dressed to kill. Stop. Just stop. We have figured out that we need to be really careful with the definitions for vocabulary that we give them. Category means "group," right? "I love to sing, so I joined the singing category." I can't remember the hilarious example that Jessica told me about... but just so you know, it was good. I teach Grammar and Writing for two periods, and they are really tired because it is right after lunch. Some of the students are in their own worlds and stare at the walls and ceiling. There are two students in 9A that are good friends, and Krista, Jessica, and I just laugh and laugh when we think about the combination. They seem like the least likely friends in the entire world (I don't want to go into much detail), but the one has his arm around the other one (perfectly normal in Egyptian culture) and they joke and punch each other. It's just too funny.

After 9A, I teach 9B for two periods. They are a very... energetic class. I think they're hilarious, but there's just too much noise. There are some students in this class that just make me laugh to think about. I love them, but sometimes I just think, "Why did getting up to erase the board in the middle of class ever seem like a good idea?" We made a seating chart for both ninth grade classes, and it seems to help somewhat. The students all shout out the answers when they know them (not just 9B, but more so than others). I make them raise their hands, so they wave their arms frantically while shout and snapping their fingers and yelling, "Ya Miss!" Then they apologize when I remind them yet again that snapping at me is very rude and I will not answer them. There are two students in 9B that will shout out the answer no matter what the teachers say. I'm laughing really hard as I write this, but it's so frustrating at the time. 

They are a lot of fun, and it reminds me of any high school class I've ever been in. There are a few kids that always want to volunteer. There are a few that pretend to fall asleep to look cool even if they're not really tired. There are some that completely understand the material, and there are some that... well... There are a couple people that have a very difficult time in the class, and I have sympathy, but it is also really frustrating. I will go to great lengths to write notes on the board and then go around and check to see that they wrote everything down. The problem is that they have no idea how to use their notes, and they don't like to think for themselves. That sounds harsh, and I don't mean it to be, but they would rather find a direct quote from a book than to interpret things or apply principles themselves, like almost anyone else.

Students haven't been turning in homework for my class, and the quarter is over in a few weeks, so they are all coming to me to try to make up what they missed. First my policy was absolutely no makeup work, but then I decided to give 50% for latework, and now my policy 70% credit. It's just frustrating. They think that my class' homework is not important because it is writing and not math. Excuse me? You don't know the difference between "is" and "are," and you don't think my writing is important? Good luck writing 15 page papers in college. I say to write 15 sentences, you write five, and then you get mad because I give you a 33%? Seriously? It's just frustrating.

I'll just post this because it's better to get something up than nothing. (That's what I tell my students--it's better to get some credit than none...) I love them though. I love them so much.

Water Fight, Dream Park, etc.

5:25 pm

This past week was a little bit different. Tuesday was a holiday, so we played sports in the morning and had a huge water fight in the afternoon. There were supposed to be three teams, who attacked anyone who crossed into their boundaries by practically drowning them above water using water bottles, mop buckets, tupperware, and anything else that could hold water. I forgot about the teams... so I just ran out and started dumping water on people. I almost died. haha. Boys were just running at me with their mop buckets, and one after another they would pour everything over my head. I couldn't see, and it was hard to breathe. It doesn't sound like fun, but it was a really good time. I am attempting to upload a video onto Facebook of being attacked. Let's see if it actually uploads. After the water fight, we were planning to play a game called "Hunt the Staff," where the staff hide somewhere on campus, and whichever team of students finds them wins however many points the staff member was worth. I was worth 30, Jessica was 40, and Michael was 80. This gives some perspective. Krista told me to go hide, and then they would explain the game to the students. I thought, "I'll show you 30 points! You think that I'm a wimp and would probably stand behind a tree." So I went and hid crouched in the dirt under a tree in the orange orchard. The mosquitos attempted to annihilate (10th grade vocabulary word) me, but I thought that I was taking one for the team. I waited a long time, ate some oranges, stood up, squatted back down, smashed mosquitos all over me. I heard a voice yell, "Ya Miss?!" But no one found me. After probably an hour, I decided to quit and then found out that the game had been cancelled. Thanks, friends. Pastor Tom had told Jessica and Krista that he had just seen me talking to people, so the students that they sent out must have found me. LIES! I ate your oranges, so take that.

Thursday we had an SA field trip to Dream Park, an amusement park. It was like a mini Egyptian Six Flags. It was a lot of fun hanging out with the students and going on the rides. I owned all the guys in the go-carts--I just had to mention that. Sometime in the late afternoon, there were a bunch of us standing around, and there was some commotion, which ended in a huge mess. Apparently some guys at the park were saying things or blowing kisses to some of our girls (which is a huge no-no), so one of our guys started to get protective. These outsiders (whose ringleader I will refer to as Green Shirt) started to get aggressive and were mocking this guy now. Another one of our students stepped in and started to defend the first guy. Other NUA guys tried to walk Green Shirt away from everyone and just avoid a fight. Green Shirt left, and the next thing I knew, he was running back with a couple friends, he whipped off his belt and just cracked it against one of our guy's legs (who was not involved at all). To their surprise, our school made up a huge chunk of the people at the park, and they came to his defense. They tried to separate crazy-eyed Green Shirt from everyone, but soon belts were flying, people were on the ground, and it was a huge mess. Jessica, Krista, and I couldn't do a thing because we are girls and we have no authority with these outside guys. One of Green Shirts friends ran in with his ID yelling (in Arabic) that they had messed with the wrong guys because his father was so-and-so. Apparently connections are everything. The fight was a big deal, and we ended up leaving the park. But apparently fighting is really commonplace, and using your belt to fight someone is not unusual. "Well, it's unusual to me." It seemed really animalistic. (I don't think I just made that word up.) Different cultural perspectives are so interesting. I watched the whole thing, and I recognized that most of our guys tried to avoid a fight as much as possible, but even some of them that I have the most respect for said that it would bring great dishonor to the girls if no one "defended" them, and to treat them the way that they were treated was completely inappropriate by Egyptian standards. One of the guys was saying that in Upper Egypt (which is really Southern Egypt), the fights are crazy. People will fight until tons of bones are broken, blood is all over the place, and sometimes even until death. One of my students was saying that even if a guy knows that he will lose a fight, he has to be the one to initiate it if the girl he is with is mistreated. Pride seems to be a much bigger deal here than in America. I didn't like it at all, and it was really scary to see some of these people so angry. Green Shirt looked completely crazed, and his eyes were on fire when his friends were holding them back. I didn't like it.

Some people honestly believe that women are worth less than men. In Sabbath School today, we were just having an open discussion about Biblical questions, and one guy brought up a passage in 1 Corinthians about how men are the head of women, etc. Pastor Tom explained the cultural information behind that passage, which made complete sense, but this guy next to me kept whispering to me about how men and women aren't equal. I threw out the verse in Galatians 3:28 about how there is no difference between Jew and Greek, slave and free, male and female. He looked bothered, and I had thought that he had been joking until he kept going on and on. I recognized how American I was with my passion for equality, but I told him in the most straightforward way that my soul was just as valuable as his was in the eyes of God. Some people... To me (Yes, I'm an American), but speaking like that is just as ignorant as racism. YOU ARE IGNORANT! No, I'm not going to argue that I am stronger than all the guys--we were made differently, but good luck trying to run a country or even family for that matter without a female perspective. I'm not one of those obnoxious feminists who think that we're all the same (because obviously we're not), but you are ignorant, buddy.

Krista needs her computer. GOODBYE!

Biblical Understanding

I apologize for not writing anything in such a long time. I have a blog typed out on my computers (I'm using Krista's) to post, and so I am planning on posting it later. I just wanted to give a quick update in the meantime.

I am still loving it here. The weather is ridiculous, and I am being eaten alive by fleas, but that really doesn't matter. I thought about hiring a student to scratch my legs all day while I teach. Then I realized how creepy that is.

I love Krista and Jessica. I couldn't ask for better girls to be with.

I need to cut back on eating spoonfuls of Nutella. I didn't even like Nutella in America. What am I doing? I do really like the food here though. The bread... eh... I could do without it, but I am really happy with everything else. Except guavas, I guess. They sound like such a nice fruit, but to be honest, they taste like garbage. Literally. I am trying to get used to them because the people here love them. I'm working on it. My favorite food here is koshary. Ah. So good. It is rice and lentils with a couple different kinds of pasta, topped with tomato sauced and deep friend onions. I probably just made it sound disgusting, but I'm a fan--a big fan. 

Every Tuesday night instead of study hall, we offer fine arts classes. We offer guitar, sign language, PowerPoint, drama, praise sing (for song services), and... I think that's it. Michael and I are teaching a drama class. We're going to work on some musical skits with them and also a Christmas play. The students really love to act. They're not as shy and self-conscious as the kids I'm used to. I'm really looking forward to working with them. I just don't have much time to prepare. If only Andrew Crane was here to help with the improv games.

One thing that I was really impressed by was how much these kids want to learn. For vespers on Friday night, we printed out song sheets so that the kids could follow along and not have to read the words from the screen. We put guitar chords on them so that the kids who wanted to learn guitar could practice using them. I printed 70 copies so that we could share them. I expected to have to pick them all up off the floor, but at the end of vespers, not a single paper was left. I was so impressed. They keep them in their pockets and try to learn the words to the songs that we teach them. Most sing intensely off-key, but they sing at the top of their lungs, and I love it. They sing like they mean it, and that really hits me. I'm just a little bit tired of singing "I Surrender All" and "Shout to the Lord," however. :)

These kids are like kids all over the world, and they are really struggling to understand God and how they relate to Him. I love talking to them. I have to be careful about how many one-on-one conversations I have with male students though. That's kind of unfortunate because I feel like I am much better one-on-one.

Addressing someone in Arabic, you add "ya" before their name. I love the sound of people calling, "Ya Miss." I love it.

I have had a better understanding of some Biblical principles since I have been here. 

• I understand that footwashing is disgusting. In the States, we take off our socks and feel embarrassed because our pedicure is not perfect. My feet have been eaten by bugs, and I have scratched all the bites like a madwoman... so now I have red scabby feet. (Great visual, eh?) They are dry and covered with dust. Praise God I have sandals and there's not an incredible amount of animal poop on campus. If we were to wash each other's feet now, we would surely be humbled.
• In one of our staff meetings, we were discussing situations with students in which we would need to inform Pastor Tom. One of the SMs asked about if a girl got pregnant. Isaac, the Egyptian pastor and boys' dean here laughed and said that that would never happen. "Sure... it's highly unlikely, but what if...?" "No. It wouldn't happen here. Her family would kill her." Can you imagine how the people must have treated Mary? And how they must have treated poor little Jesus? They looked at Him with hate and disgust because His mom was a "filthy whore who deserved to be stoned."
• If a couple does not have kids within a year of being married, people start to talk. It is very very shameful to not have kids. Then I consider Sarah and all the other barren women.
• I understand how important it is to visit the sick, as the Bible tells us to do in Matthew 25.
• I have a better understanding of hospitality as is shown in many stories in the Bible.
• I still can't imagine the shame that Mary Magdalene must have felt, caught in the act of adultery... or the shame that any prostitute must have felt. In Egypt, a girl's reputation can be ruined if she is seen out with a guy, not in a group. It would strongly deter people from marrying her.
• I have a better understanding of the importance of eating with people.
• I fully believe that the people here actually would give me the "tunic" off their back if they needed to.

I have been here for just over a month, but I know that I will never be the same. And I don't want to come back the same either.

Read Acts 16 if you get the chance. It's about Paul and Silas in prison. The story is incredible. If you have Acts of the Apostles, read the corresponding chapter. I underline so much in that book.

I am a celebrity

You know you’re absolutely beautiful when…

•        Groups of guys mutter “moza” as you walk past
  
•        An ice cream man asks you for your address and then asks two of your friends for it when you refuse.
  
•        Slick-haired men tell you that you are wonderful as they walk by.
  
•        You get followed around the library in Alexandria by a man with dark sunglasses
  
•        People you have never seen in your life shout, “I miss you so much!”
  
•        Fourteen year old boys say, “Hello everyone!” only to you.
  
•        People pull up chairs to watch you.
  
•        Someone pinches your butt as you ride up the escalator and sneaks off into a group of people (It happened to Jessica, and you better believe she would have decked him if she knew who it was.)
  
•        Someone asks, “What is your name, my beautiful queen?”
  

Meaning of Honking

In America, honking one’s horn primarily expresses two things, “I almost just hit you because you’re a terrible driver,” and “I’ve been waiting at this green light for five seconds, and you need to move it.” I’ve probably honked my horn three times in the last four years, but now that I am in Egypt, my eyes have been opened. Honking a horn could mean a number of things:

•  I almost just hit you because you’re a terrible driver.
  
• I’ve been waiting at this green light for five seconds, and you need to move it.
  
• You’re in my way.
  
•  Does anyone within a kilometer radius need a ride?
  
• I’m here.
  
• I’m bored.
  
• Hello foreigners.
  

and

• Sorry I just hit you with my car, Chim. 
  

Lots of Rambling

I now understand some of the difficulties of being a teacher. It is 1:55 am, and I have to teach my first class in five hours. I’m making worksheets for my ESL class and trying to figure out what to do tomorrow. I’m trying not to plan useless things that would take up 80 minutes, even though that’s a great temptation for me. I feel a lot of pressure because I am teaching them the very foundation of the next four years of their life. I’ve realized that some of the students don’t know how to write their own names. One girl’s name is Kristine, and she has been writing “Krsten” on her papers. George keeps writing “Goreg” on his. Oops… I probably should have gotten to that sooner.

Speaking of names, out of 137 students, 400 are Egyptian boys named Mina, 600,000 are Egyptiangirls named Maryam, and 12 million are Sudanese students with the first and/or last name Deng. It’s slightly confusing. I have Deng Garang Deng, Deng Pal, and Deng Mayol Deng in my 9A class. I’m not sure who is who, and they use that to their advantage. Funny kids. We also have several students with the names Magdy, Wagdy, Peter, Shagia, Abanoub, Mahmdouh, and anything that begins with Nya-. AH! I just took a break from writing this, and I saw a list of students with their pictures, and the Dengs switched names on me yesterday! I am so confused!

In ESL, I am using techniques that I learned in Spanish in fifth grade. I am making them do motions with me to help them remember words. To learn the word “supermarket,” I make them do “The Shopping Cart” (one of the best dance moves of all time).

Spiritually, I am doing alright. I have been feeling so blessed and really appreciative of what I have. I hope that I grow here. I know that I will learn a lot, but I want this year to be what I had hoped for it to be. Change doesn’t necessarily happen, but many times it is a conscious effort. People argue that they haven’t stopped doing things that they consider wrong because it hasn’t been easy, so they must not be too convicted to do it. Are you kidding me? Self-control requires conscious effort for any Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, or atheist.

These kids are so normal. They have questions and they are really searching, and I think that’s great. I really don’t have the opportunity to discuss these things with my own students because the only English they know is “How are you?” and “Fine, thanks,” or we just don’t have time in class. I think Jessica is doing such a great job teaching grade 10 Bible. I’m kind of jealous of her. Maybe I’ll put tap water in her water bottle so that I can take her class for a few days.

Homeleave begins this Thursday after classes. Instead of having several homeleaves for a couple days, we now have longer homeleaves less often. The SMs are planning on going to Alexandria.

I have been greatly surprised by the place that I feel most impressed to reach. It makes me very nervous to think about the influence of this “area”, and I never really expected for it to be a problem. Sorry for my ambiguity. I am not big enough or wise enough to do what needs to be done.

Ramblings and Details:

I’m paranoid that my students watch my arm fat wobble back and forth when I write on the board as I did with my elementary school teachers.

I’m also paranoid that I smell like body odor. I get huge whiffs of it quite frequently, and it makes me really nervous. I try to subtly smell myself, and then I tell myself that it’s probably not me because I hadn’t had that problem before I came to Egypt. I then consider that even if it was me, they probably wouldn’t care here because they’re the ones that don’t seem to notice.

I didn’t come here to watch movies. I didn’t come here to eat American food. I didn’t come here to live in a five star hotel. I didn’t come here to be comfortable.

Conserving toilet paper has always been an innate skill of mine, but I am getting so much better at it. We went without toilet paper for about five days in our apartment, so we had to walk to the staff bathroom.

The doorknobs here don’t turn. On the one side of the door, it’s used to pull the door closed (I guess) and on the other side it’s just a decoration.

I don’t like running here very much. Running in the sand around the perimeter of the compound works my legs much more than my heart, and I would jump rope in my apartment instead if I didn’t feel like I would quit too soon. I’m grateful for the P.E. class that I teach, and I love teaching Taebo. I told my students to call me Dominique Wakefield from 6:00-6:40am… just kidding. Maybe Billy Blanks would suit me better.

We just got hot water in the shower… I don’t know how to turn it on though. But it’s available, I guess. It’s actually unavoidable in our washing machine. It boils our clothes—literally. Luckily I haven’t done laundry since I left home (yes, I’m a dirty person) because Krista’s stuff got tie-dyed from the hot water. The washing machine makes the bathroom so hot. My conditioner was sitting on top of it, and it was hot when I put it in my hair.

Ants are crazy. They are everywhere and in everything. If there’s even a crumb left on the counter, they’re all over it. We opened up a drawer that we had put Ramen in, and ants abounded. They’re the really tiny ones that aren’t scary, but I don’t like them because they can crawl under my fingernails very easily. Kuny is a 12^th grade Sudanese girl here, and she is the sweetest thing. Sabbath morning she left us a note outside our apartment door with beautiful red flowers on it. I looked at it an hour later, and ants were crawling all over it. Really? You’re going to eat flowers?

I eat way too much bread here. Way too much. Sometimes we find small rocks in it. Hardly ever though.

I don’t know what’s with cheese, but we have tons of it. John, a former student who just left for LaSierra University, took us grocery shopping when we first got here, and he loaded us up with cheese. Everyone else who has fed us has given us tons of cheese. It’s not normal, hard cheese… it’s more like cream cheese. Oh, there’s also this lie of a vegetable that looked like dark lettuce. I ate it and tasted the most intense… taste (for lack of a better word) in my life.

Korrollos, a tenth grader, said to me yesterday, “Miss Sara. You do not look as beautiful with glasses.” Hahaha.

Chim is staring at me and chewing mustard-flavored potato chips loudly. I’m supposed to write all about him.

I already want to come back to visit after I leave.

LOVE YOU!

Dear Mom,

I just thought that you should know that one of the students I am friends with is named Ibrahim.

Love,
Sara

I LOVE EGYPT

Right now I am in Heliopolis, which is where the Field Office for the church is. Tonight we're staying with an SM named Ana who teaches preschool here. The internet at the school does not work, so I can only get online probaby once a week. Women aren't allowed to go to the internet cafe in Gabel, the town where we live, so we have to take a minibus and train to Heliopolis. A bunch of little Egyptian girls chased us and waved yelling ,"Hello! Hi!" at us. They are so cute. We stand out quite a bit. To be honest, I kind of like it. (But I don't really like it on the crowded metro, however. Yesterday I went to extend my visa, and Alec leaned down to me and whispered, "Nose bleed's eyeing you." I looked over and a man was pressing a kleenex against his nose and staring intently at me.)

Before I forget: Don't mail me packages or anything without telling me first. The postal system here in Egypt will not let a lot of things through. I can't even send mail other than typed cards.

I am teaching Grammar and Writing ESL, grade 9A (more advanced), and 9B, each for two periods a day. Krista and I are also teaching a 6am P.E. class for girls only. We're teaching them taebo-kind of things--Mama Weave, you should be so proud. They get exhausted so easily... which is kind of funny, but it makes me so grateful to teach the class. The second half of the period, we walk and then run for one minute, and they are drenched with sweat. They're so cute. One girl thanked me profusely for our class because she saw the boys in "Mr. Michael's class running and running and running." haha. In ESL, we sing the alphabet song several times a day. I'm teaching colors, numbers, letters, and extremely basic expressions. I didn't have a translator until today, which made things kind of rough at first, but the students are understanding me. I jump around, draw pictures, and use an absurd amount of expression in my voice if I have to. I am really stressed out by my grade nine classes because I don't really have a textbook to follow. I am really good with English grammar, but it is really hard to explain it to kids whose first language is Arabic and have a small English vocabulary. I'm really being stretched--and that is what I asked God for. My character could use shaping, and I won't be given anything I can't handle.

I love my students. Many people look down on the culture in this part of the world, but I have never met a more respectful group of kids in my life. The guys love to tease us, but they don't ever cross the line. We are really hard on them right now so that we can gain control of the classroom. "Excuse me. Next time you talk you're going out in the hall." I say that countless times a day. They listen too. I refuse to tell them how old I am because I don't want to lose any authority. Some of the guys were trying to trick me into telling them, I told them that I would tell them at the end of the school year.


Our apartment is nice than I thought it would be. We're picking up on the quirks--I turn off the shower before conditioning my hair to let the water drain so that it doesn't overflow all over the bathroom. The stove is now working, and the toilet is now fixed. We used to have to dump a pot of water down the back in order to flush. I'm still not drinking the tap water, but I use it to brush my teeth. I will slowly start to drink it. I'm just not too anxious for King Tut's revenge. I think it's inevitable though.


I don't really know where to start in my attempt to describe Egypt. It's incredibly dry and sandy, and there is tons of garbage in the streets. Most people don't have cars, so we take minibuses and the metro to wherever we need to go. People pack into those things. It's crazy. I have a feeling that I will be the first SM to get hit by a car... Well, either me or Alec. People will drive literally within one inch of another car. I've seen some drive the wrong way on busy one-way streets in order to get where they are going faster. Crossing the street is an art. I'm honestly impressed.


The principal and his wife, Tom and Gladys Decker, are my favorite people in the world. Gladys is an English teacher who has her masters in ESL, so she has been absolutely amazing. They have really raised the standards for the school, and they have been such a help to us. NUA is not accredited by the Egyptian government, but the students receive an American diploma, so the standards have to be high. Cheating is so commonplace in Egypt, that we have to enforce a really strict policy against it. Apparently in Egypt, the teachers will write the answers to the tests on the board so that the students do well and the teachers can keep their jobs. Cheating is just "helping" each other. NUA is a new experience for them. The staff members are also competing for who can collect the most cell phones and mp3 players in the Ad Building. I think Krista is winning. She's a beast. I feel like I'm at GLAA. I guess I would be a very awkward version of Ms. Rosas at this point. I'm working on it.


Just about everyone has tattoos. The Christians get them on the underside of their right wrist or between their thumb and index finger of their right hand. The guys have tattoos all over their arms, and I have seen some on their chests (they wear v-neck shirts). I am used to the calls to prayer, and the silence seems kind of weird.

I'm sharing my testimony tonight for vespers, so pray for me please.

There is so much work to be done here and so much potential. These people have lots of questions and are looking for answers. I'm jealous of Jessica because she gets to teach grade 10 Bible. :) I miss everyone, but I am so happy to be here. I can't wait until my parents come to visit and can meet everyone.

Once again I am upset with the disorganization of my blog entry, but I don't have time to fix it. May you see God in a way that you never have before.


One of my favorites: "They looked to Him and were radiant, and their faces were not ashamed." -Psalm 34:5