The Last Month of My Experience

The last month has been an interesting one. I went through a period of time—probably a couple weeks—where I felt like an utter failure. Nothing that I was doing was sticking in their minds. I was inconsistent and lacking control. It hurts divulging everything. I felt like I was a mess—completely disorganized and not measuring up in any area of what I was doing. Almost every day in 9B I would have an argument with a student. He didn’t bring his backpack to class and then complained when I marked his work late. Sincere anger. And then students would sit in their desks and sulk. “You are not fair, ya Miss.” I wanted to say, “Yeah, well you have no reasoning ability and are incredibly immature.” I felt like everything I did in that class was completely wrong. They really wore me out. Anyway, it was bad, and I was bad. I would catch myself crying over stupid little things that went wrong. I didn’t realize that it was mostly 9B that was my source, but I found comfort in knowing that later. Jessica, Krista, and I had a “you’re welcome” fest: I just spent an hour and a half ordering something for $400 for you on my parents’ credit card for them to bring to you, but you’re still complaining because they don’t have room for something else. YOU’RE WELCOME! You’re welcome. “I said that I would give you partial credit for your late homework IF you turned it in by 4:30. You came at 7:30, and I still took it, and now you’re complaining because I took off a few points. YOU’RE WELCOME!” I spent my whole study hall helping you, and then you storm off because I didn’t postpone the test. You’re welcome! “We took notes, did worksheets, wrote our own sentences for more days than we should have. I would have danced a grammar dance or sang a grammar song if it would have helped you. There was nothing more I could have done to teach the concept. NOTHING. And then you complain and blame me for doing so bad on the tests. You’re welcome for writing extra worksheets. You’re welcome for buying you all notebooks so that you could take notes. You’re welcome.”

I was laying in bed and felt so terrible about myself and how I wasn’t prioritizing and using my time in a good way. I could have been being a better influence on the students. I should have been praying more. I should have done this and could have done that, but instead I did something else. I was too much of this and too much of that. I started to break, so I called my high school math teacher, who is a very good friend of mine, and we talked until 1:30am. She saved me. I shared some of her wisdom with Krista and Jessica, who were also struggling. I realized at this point that I wasn’t anxious to get home because I was clinging to Egypt, but I came to the point that going home would be hard, but it was time.

My sister Tina came to visit at the perfect time. It was the break that I needed, and it was really good to see her. It was fun remembering all of the things that had once been so new to me—driving the wrong way down the road, the honking, the garbage, the mannerisms, the normal conversations that sound like fights, and the staring. The people here stare. When you make eye contact with them, they don’t look away. It’s more men than anything. It took a lot of effort in the beginning to remember not to make eye contact with them. They stare as if you couldn’t see them, and they don’t feel stupid or awkward when you make eye contact with them. Tina, who is less familiar with the culture and loves to do and say what is on her mind. There was a guy that was sitting across from us on the metro, and he was staring at us for the longest time. Some people stare with blank looks on their faces, but this guy looked like a total creep. Finally Tina stared at him and gave him the “what are you looking at?” kind of looks. She kept staring at him and looking at him like he was stupid until he looked away. He looked at my knees, and so she waved her hands in front of my knees, and put her hands wherever he was looking to make him look away. I was laughing so hard.

June 11

Beth left the day after Tina did. We miss her. The day that she was leaving, our English classes had a party together for her. It was so cute. That night we brought her to the airport.

There was an ongoing argument between a lot of the girls. To make a long story short, the argument was not settled and some of the girls were very upset and feisty. I offered to talk to them after school to work it out, and Pastor Tom later decided that everyone involved was required to meet with me after school. We were there for about two and a half hours. The reasons for being so upset were a bunch of misunderstandings and miscommunication built up over time. No one had bad intentions to begin with, but they felt hurt and didn’t communicate, and eventually everything exploded. I don’t even want to go into detail because I just get furious thinking about it, but two girls ended up being suspended for being “inflexible and belligerent.” They were the most illogical people I had ever dealt with in my life. There was absolutely no attempt to understand or ability to understand how someone else might feel. I have never met such hard and illogical people in my life. There are no words to express the depth of my frustration and my bewilderment from their utter stupidity. They were suspended for a couple days, and before they were allowed to attend classes again they had to apologize to the people involved. They came back with hard attitudes, so Pastor Tom sent them home for another day. The next day was the first time that they had apologized, and I was proud of them. We hugged them and then let things go.

I’m sitting here on the Deckers’ couch on the last Friday night at NUA. The four of us girl SMs just gave them our going away present for them. We took typical tacky pictures at the photography place in town and had the man pose us. We told them to pick whatever backgrounds they thought would be best. We just took down the huge painting over the fireplace and replaced it with our 8x6 smokey-faced picture. We have our right leg forward with the knee bent and are leaning forward onto it. Then we have dead serious faces looking off in the distance. It is hilarious.

I’m going to have higher standards of chivalry when I get home. So yes, the men get jealous and angry more easily than they do in America, but they jump up to offer women their seats, and I have never once paid for myself when I have gone outside the school with any of the guy students. The only time I ever carry my books during the day is to my 10:30 class. Other than that, the guys take turns carrying my books and talking to me on the way back to the staff room. They are so sweet and very respectful. They don’t use bad words or talk about crude things in front of any of the girls. It’s hard to understand because people in America think that the men here are crazy and controlling and chauvinistic, and yes, some are, but a lot of the reasons that they act that way is because they think that what they are doing is right. It is no man’s right to disrespect or look at a woman in a dirty way or say something to her that he shouldn’t, so in effort to support that, it ends up restricting some of the women’s freedom, but they believe that they are doing the right thing. We come with the idea that we are here to teach these people and that our way is better than theirs (and in a lot of aspects I still believe that our way works is more effective and/or logical), but we could definitely learn a few lessons from them too.
We just finished exam week. I was so busy this week because I was working on a yearbook project. One day I worked for eight straight hours on it without even stopping to eat. I was really stressed out. It kind of stinks to end such an experience with some of them by giving them a test that makes them hate me. Some looked up and would shake their heads and say, “So hard, ya Miss.” It’s exactly what was on the homework you probably cheated on and exactly what was on the review sheet that you were supposed to study from. Oh well. The tenth graders did pretty well. I was proud of them. They had a vocabulary and idiom section one day, and the other day they had a grammar and writing section. I had written three paragraphs out of a five paragraph essay and had them fill in the other two, using transitions, concluding sentences, examples, and the other parts that I required. They also had to edit many sentences that I wrote.

We had a farewell for the SMs on Wednesday night. In the farewells, the person who is leaving sits on the stage in a chair, and people come and say things about them. Mrs. Janet, the girls’ dean, had decorated the chapel, and they brought the six of us (plus Krista’s sister) up on the stage and gave us leis to wear. They have a way of saying things sometimes that seem… somewhat tactless, and we were laughing so hard. “Miss Sara is a good person for the students to come and tell their secrets to. She’s a friend to all of them. Well, she’s not a friend to all of them—just some of them.” Thank you? Haha. And some of the students said that I smiled at them in the hallways, and then one boy, who I’m pretty close to, said that he hadn’t told me all year but he hates my smile. He kept emphasizing that and smiling really big, and it was so abrupt that I assumed that he meant something more than what I was hearing. Another girl came up and said that I had a beautiful smile. This guy was now sitting in the front row and shook his head laughing and said, “No! The opposite!” We were all laughing so hard. Later this guy came up and apologized profusely and felt so bad. He apparently meant something different…? When one girl named Phoebe started talking, I started to cry because she is so sweet and I’m really going to miss her. Then we were told give a short piece of advice to the students. –Krista said to say that she is cool. I don’t think so, so I won’t lie.—Anyways, when I started talking, I started to cry because I told them how important it is that they give their lives to God because I want them all to be saved. Then we gathered around and prayed and sang this traditional going away song. The next day, a girl… whose mind is definitely outside the box and is hard to follow and loves to jump to strange conclusions… came up and said, “Oh Miss, you were so cute last night!” and then pretended to be crying and mocked me, “I just want you to be saved…” And then she giggled and kept doing it. She did that all day. Weird.

I'm a little nervous about going home. People can try to understand my stories, but it's not the same. I can tell stories or explain things to people, but they don't really understand why something is a big deal or why it's important or impressive or so terrible. I'm so thankful to have other Americans here that I can keep in close contact with after I leave. At the camp that I will be working at, we are required to wear a one piece bathing suit with shorts over it. That will feel so strange to me. Hugging guy friends when I get back will be so weird. Or, maybe it won't. Maybe I will just fall back into the way that things were before because I am used to acting that way in that context. I don't know. I don't want to forget though.

These last few weeks, I have felt very close to the students, and I have had so much love for them--even when they do things I don't understand. I just love them so much. I am going to miss them so much. Some made me promise that I wouldn't forget them. How could I?

This is graduation weekend. I’m clinging to these “last times”—the last time we buy tamaya from the man in town, the last time we take the metro, the last time we eat atz (lentil soup) in the cafeteria, the last time we sing "Jesus, Lover of My Soul" after Friday night vespers. I’m clinging to it all, and I’m very grateful for all of these times. I have three full days left.