I sat on her bed writing in my journal because Priscila and Mary were already asleep, and there was nowhere else to sit in the house. Saeda was looking through pictures on Facebook next to her sister Marina, who had fallen asleep long before her. Saeda told me this year that she remembers when I first taught her in ESL three years ago. She remembers my big poster that said, “Good morning,” and “My name is…” I love it that I am one of her first memories of speaking English. She learned English really quickly because she is so outgoing and loves to talk.
I came back to visit NUA in May of 2011, just a couple weeks after the microbus accident that injured several of the students and ended up killing one of them. It was in that accident that Saeda lost half of three of her fingers after they were crushed. We were afraid that she would not come back to school after the accident, but she did. And I remember helping her soak and wrap her hand in the way that the doctor had instructed her. I remember the stitches, and how she didn’t like to look at it. She was always very strong though. I admired her. Most Egyptian girls are “foffy” (wimpy), but not this one. This one impressed me. This one called me to a new level of optimism and strength and trust. I was worried about her dreams of becoming a doctor. And I remember fuming about the girls who told her to hide her hand because someone might not want to marry her. Any deformity or imperfection is a big deal, especially for an Upper Egyptian girl.
So as I was sitting on her bed we began to talk. And eventually the conversation led her to ask me why God allowed that to happen to her. Why to her? We talked about this broken world full of pain and imperfection, and then about the beauty that God draws out of every ugly thing. I told her of her influence and how inspiring she is and how she reminds people that they can be strong when they begin to forget. We talked for a while longer.
The name Saeda is a very old name. No one here really names their daughter that anymore. She said she never knew why she was named that until the accident. As soon as she said that, chills shot up my spine. Saeda means “happy.” Now she loves her name and thanks God for it. It was perfectly chosen for her. And I just love God for things like that. He created her inmost being. He knit her together in her mother’s womb. I praise Him because she is fearfully and wonderfully made. She is such a positive and optimistic person. She does not deny that anything happened and is still haunted by images of it at times, but she is always smiling. And when she speaks up front, she has no shame in using her hands to talk. There is absolutely no effort to try to hide anything, and I’m so proud of her. Al Humdolillah. God chose her name.
God named me too. My name means “Princess.” I never liked the meaning of it. I am not a girly girl. I am not high maintenance. I don’t have the commanding yet graceful presence of a princess. But in the summer of 2011, the thought hit me like a ton of bricks, “I don’t call myself a princess, but God thinks I’m one.” God thinks the world of me and lifts me up to that level. He chose my name too.
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Sunday, November 4, 2012
This is a man's world.
We had a 10-day vacation during the time of an important Muslim feast. So Austin, Jeff, Mary, Priscila (the Argentinian SM who works at the preschool in Heliopolis), and I travelled to two Upper Egyptian villages—Zewak and Tatalyah. We took the train from Cairo to Sohag Monday night on our way to Zewak.
This is part of my journal entry.
Welcome to Zewak!
Tuesday, October 30, 2012 9:24pm—on my bed @ Saeda’s house; Zewak, Egypt
Today has been on of the longest days of my life. We got here at 6am—a sweet Muslim lady helped us to know when to get off the train in Sohag. She was nice and smiled at me a lot. We thought we passed the station and were paranoid for a while. Mina Farid and Girgis Magdy were at the train station waiting for us. I feel very comfortable w/ them an dcan treat them like friends instead of putting on my I’m-trying-to-please-you-by-smiling-constantly face. We came to Saeda’s, where the girls are staying, and we slept for two hours.
We got up at 8:30 and ate the typical Egyptian breakfast—fool (beans), falafel, cheese, tomatoes, cucumbers, warm sweet buffalo milk, and this thick Upper Egyptian bread that they bake on the roves here. Then Mina came for us by yelling Saeda’s dad’s name outside the house. (He said that if he said hers or her sister’s names, her dad would kill him. I guess then because the neighbors would know that a girl named Saeda lived there. People’s lives there seem to be ruled by everyone else’s opinions.) We stepped over some dead birds, dead mice, and even a flattened cat as we were walkeing around today. The dirt roads are scattered with hay, garbage, pieces of sugar cane, feathers, poop, and dead animals. It was comfortable with Mina’s family. I’d been there a couple years ago. Plus his uncle was there who works in Kuwait and speaks very good English. He’s funny and more westernized, though I don’t believe that the Zewakese men who work in Kuwait treat their wives in a western way. The houses we visited today were Mina & Girgis, Sobhy, Mikhael M, Ibrahim A, Yousef & Iscander C, Lina H, Gad S, Amir H, Adeeb & Adel, Ashraf, and Steven’s. Lunch at Mina’s, dinner the second time we went to Mikhael’s house. We also went very begrudgingly to the pastor’s house because of Mr. S____. I’ll explain later.
Marina, Saeda’s sister, tried on her mom’s berda, which is a big black robe thing that many of the Christian women have to wear when they go outside—“have to wear” because their husbands say so. They are wearing just as much clothing as the conservative Muslims wear, but just in a different way. Saeda’s mom got married when she was 13. She said she didn’t even know what marriage was. (When we talked to her and Saeda later, they were explaining that you never really think to question your parents. They say, “You’re going to be engaged to this guy.” You say, “Okay.” No big deal. Such is life.) She is now 36. She said (and this is all through translation) that she is in such bad shape now that she wouldn’t be able to walk to the main road. She gets tired going up her stairs. Why is she in such bad shape? Because she hardly ever can leave the house. She is upset that Saeda is not engaged yet. Saeda though she’d be engaged by 15 or 16 and married at 18 until she came to NUA and felt her eyes were opened. Her mom is upset and wants her to be engaged, but her dad thinks it’s good and wants her to finish school. (Thank God that he seems to be pretty progressive.) Mina’s aunt and grandma cooked for us. They weren’t allowed to go in certain parts of the house in case men walked by and saw them. Then his uncle would have shouted. The men sat around and joked and were served, or so it appeared (but I acknowledge that we came here to see mostly guys) while the women served them. This is such a man’s world. It made me depressed. This is where Mina grew up before he moved to Alexandria, but he said he cannot stay here when I asked how he preferred things after he explained some things about the women. Gad’s brother got married August 4. He works in Kuwait, and his beautiful young wife lives alone in a beautiful house. Her name is Wafa’. She is beautiful. She must be 18 or so. She was talkative and sweet and fun, though she didn’t speak a word of English. She asked us to stay with her. I think we will Wednesday night. –Oh no! I hear a spoon stirring in a glass outside the door… more tea? Hibiscus? Lord, please no! I drank 9 sodas, 3 cups of juice, and 2 cups of tea today in addition to three gigantic meals. I almost threw up. –Anyway, I feel so bad for cute little pregnant Wafa’ because she’s only a kid. And she’s lonely and her husband works in Kuwait. I think we will have a good time staying w/ her. I know more Arabic than anyone in our group, and we can make do w/ that. Maybe God will use us in her life. Al Humdolillah.
This is Priscila wearing a berda at Ibrahim's house with his aunt and grandma. She is showing more here than a woman on the street would. They house the headscarf part mostly closed in front of their faces.
Oh, when we first got to Saeda’s house just after 6am, Marina walked down the stairs of the animal room/area (?) from the bedrooms holding her 1 ½ year old brother Mosa. Priscila was in front of me and went to touch him to say hi, but she jumped a little. I looked, and in his hand was a black pigeon that he was clutching by the wings.
I’m not sitting on Saeda’s bed. We’re talking about life here. She said before NUA, she was a “blind cat” (expression in Arabic). I am SO endlessly thankful that she is at NUA. She and the other girls. There are so many beautiful, smart, fun women trapped away. In the house, they do joke and seem comfortable, which is a relief to me.
If any change happens it has to be because Zewakese men buck the system. Saeda said she wished our love and marriage class was taught here. Ha! They would beat me to death--not sure if that’s an exaggeration or not… But it has to start with a Zewakese man. Lord, have mercy.
We went to a meeting at the SDA church tonight, and Yesa Mosa (Maryam’s brother) is the pastor. There is still the wall between the men and women’s sides of the church. They sang enthusiastically and that made me happy. Then he welcomed the guest from Nile Union Academy. “Shukran.” (Thank you.) Then he said that they were going to have one of the teachers from NUA speak to them. We all looked around at each other. No one volunteered, so I gave two impromptu sermons. My first one apparently wasn’t long enough, so I had to talk about something else.
This was taken at the SDA church in Zewak. It's the SMs with some of the students, one of the elders, and some kids.
I have a LOT more I want to write about, so I will update again as soon as I get the chance.
This is the food that we ate at Steven's house. Egyptians make so much food that you can never eat more than half of it. In Tatalyah, the tables were so filled food that there was nowhere to put all of the bowls.
This is part of my journal entry.
Welcome to Zewak!
Tuesday, October 30, 2012 9:24pm—on my bed @ Saeda’s house; Zewak, Egypt
Today has been on of the longest days of my life. We got here at 6am—a sweet Muslim lady helped us to know when to get off the train in Sohag. She was nice and smiled at me a lot. We thought we passed the station and were paranoid for a while. Mina Farid and Girgis Magdy were at the train station waiting for us. I feel very comfortable w/ them an dcan treat them like friends instead of putting on my I’m-trying-to-please-you-by-smiling-constantly face. We came to Saeda’s, where the girls are staying, and we slept for two hours.
We got up at 8:30 and ate the typical Egyptian breakfast—fool (beans), falafel, cheese, tomatoes, cucumbers, warm sweet buffalo milk, and this thick Upper Egyptian bread that they bake on the roves here. Then Mina came for us by yelling Saeda’s dad’s name outside the house. (He said that if he said hers or her sister’s names, her dad would kill him. I guess then because the neighbors would know that a girl named Saeda lived there. People’s lives there seem to be ruled by everyone else’s opinions.) We stepped over some dead birds, dead mice, and even a flattened cat as we were walkeing around today. The dirt roads are scattered with hay, garbage, pieces of sugar cane, feathers, poop, and dead animals. It was comfortable with Mina’s family. I’d been there a couple years ago. Plus his uncle was there who works in Kuwait and speaks very good English. He’s funny and more westernized, though I don’t believe that the Zewakese men who work in Kuwait treat their wives in a western way. The houses we visited today were Mina & Girgis, Sobhy, Mikhael M, Ibrahim A, Yousef & Iscander C, Lina H, Gad S, Amir H, Adeeb & Adel, Ashraf, and Steven’s. Lunch at Mina’s, dinner the second time we went to Mikhael’s house. We also went very begrudgingly to the pastor’s house because of Mr. S____. I’ll explain later.
Marina, Saeda’s sister, tried on her mom’s berda, which is a big black robe thing that many of the Christian women have to wear when they go outside—“have to wear” because their husbands say so. They are wearing just as much clothing as the conservative Muslims wear, but just in a different way. Saeda’s mom got married when she was 13. She said she didn’t even know what marriage was. (When we talked to her and Saeda later, they were explaining that you never really think to question your parents. They say, “You’re going to be engaged to this guy.” You say, “Okay.” No big deal. Such is life.) She is now 36. She said (and this is all through translation) that she is in such bad shape now that she wouldn’t be able to walk to the main road. She gets tired going up her stairs. Why is she in such bad shape? Because she hardly ever can leave the house. She is upset that Saeda is not engaged yet. Saeda though she’d be engaged by 15 or 16 and married at 18 until she came to NUA and felt her eyes were opened. Her mom is upset and wants her to be engaged, but her dad thinks it’s good and wants her to finish school. (Thank God that he seems to be pretty progressive.) Mina’s aunt and grandma cooked for us. They weren’t allowed to go in certain parts of the house in case men walked by and saw them. Then his uncle would have shouted. The men sat around and joked and were served, or so it appeared (but I acknowledge that we came here to see mostly guys) while the women served them. This is such a man’s world. It made me depressed. This is where Mina grew up before he moved to Alexandria, but he said he cannot stay here when I asked how he preferred things after he explained some things about the women. Gad’s brother got married August 4. He works in Kuwait, and his beautiful young wife lives alone in a beautiful house. Her name is Wafa’. She is beautiful. She must be 18 or so. She was talkative and sweet and fun, though she didn’t speak a word of English. She asked us to stay with her. I think we will Wednesday night. –Oh no! I hear a spoon stirring in a glass outside the door… more tea? Hibiscus? Lord, please no! I drank 9 sodas, 3 cups of juice, and 2 cups of tea today in addition to three gigantic meals. I almost threw up. –Anyway, I feel so bad for cute little pregnant Wafa’ because she’s only a kid. And she’s lonely and her husband works in Kuwait. I think we will have a good time staying w/ her. I know more Arabic than anyone in our group, and we can make do w/ that. Maybe God will use us in her life. Al Humdolillah.
This is Priscila wearing a berda at Ibrahim's house with his aunt and grandma. She is showing more here than a woman on the street would. They house the headscarf part mostly closed in front of their faces.
Oh, when we first got to Saeda’s house just after 6am, Marina walked down the stairs of the animal room/area (?) from the bedrooms holding her 1 ½ year old brother Mosa. Priscila was in front of me and went to touch him to say hi, but she jumped a little. I looked, and in his hand was a black pigeon that he was clutching by the wings.
I’m not sitting on Saeda’s bed. We’re talking about life here. She said before NUA, she was a “blind cat” (expression in Arabic). I am SO endlessly thankful that she is at NUA. She and the other girls. There are so many beautiful, smart, fun women trapped away. In the house, they do joke and seem comfortable, which is a relief to me.
If any change happens it has to be because Zewakese men buck the system. Saeda said she wished our love and marriage class was taught here. Ha! They would beat me to death--not sure if that’s an exaggeration or not… But it has to start with a Zewakese man. Lord, have mercy.
We went to a meeting at the SDA church tonight, and Yesa Mosa (Maryam’s brother) is the pastor. There is still the wall between the men and women’s sides of the church. They sang enthusiastically and that made me happy. Then he welcomed the guest from Nile Union Academy. “Shukran.” (Thank you.) Then he said that they were going to have one of the teachers from NUA speak to them. We all looked around at each other. No one volunteered, so I gave two impromptu sermons. My first one apparently wasn’t long enough, so I had to talk about something else.
This was taken at the SDA church in Zewak. It's the SMs with some of the students, one of the elders, and some kids.
I have a LOT more I want to write about, so I will update again as soon as I get the chance.
This is the food that we ate at Steven's house. Egyptians make so much food that you can never eat more than half of it. In Tatalyah, the tables were so filled food that there was nowhere to put all of the bowls.
Friday, October 26, 2012
My Life Here
I took this picture out the window of the microbus yesterday afternoon. It just gives you a small idea of what it looks like outside the walls of the school
This is Wasseem and Mario - they are two of the "squirrels" in ESL. They're both from the village of Dahasa. Wasseem absolutely loves to sing. It's so cute. They're both very outgoing and work hard for their grades. A sponsor has been found for Mario. I'm still looking for one for Wasseem. His father died, and that makes it very difficult for the families in a patriarchal culture. I wish he was smiling naturally here. His smile is SO big and really sweet.
These are the ESL students' memory verse books. They get a new memory verse every week. Some of them are artistic, and some, as you can see, are the stereotypical guys who couldn't care less about aesthetics and crafts. At the very beginning, they understood almost nothing in English, so I drew a picture on the board of a book and tried my best to explain that we were making a book and they would add a new page every week... but for some reason many of them got the idea that I wanted them to draw a picture of a book on the front of their book... haha. Oh well.
The senior class planned a day where they arranged for all of their classes to be outside. They also all dressed up nicely in black and white and then ate a special lunch outside together--chicken! I love the class spirit. They're so much more unified than when they were in ninth grade.
Meet our Student Association! Jackline (treasurer), Peter (vice president), and Ashraf (president). I agreed to be the SA sponsor, and I was worried about having to follow up with them a lot and remind them of their responsibilities, etc, but they have surprised me with their dedication foresight. I'm really proud of them. I'm also proud of the student body because the tenth grade class president and the girls' representative (new position thanks to Ashraf!) are both Sudanese. The wall between Sudanese and Egyptian has come down so much in the last few years.
The Student Association sponsored a trip for the students on a Saturday night to go on a Nile Cruise for a couple hours. We had a talent night on the boat, so this picture is of Chol, Deng aka "Shibly," and Steven rapping about NUA. Steven's was in Arabic, so it sounded pretty cool.
Joseph (ESL) and Joseph (10th grade)
A soccer team from an outside Sudanese school came to play our boys. Soccer is a huge deal here. It's the main sport in Egypt (and in the world), unlike the US, which has many different sports that are a big deal... which makes none of them really as big of a deal as soccer here. We won!
Me at the Bent Pyramid in Dahshur. The angle changes from 54 degrees (I believe) to 45 degrees halfway through. It is believed that the pyramid may have collapsed had they continued at the same angle. This one is older than the pyramids of Giza.
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
I am cayada. God's love is deep.
On Sunday night I walked back to my house and saw two students there who come and ask for help sometimes. I did not have the time to help them then and didn’t feel like telling them I couldn’t. But this time they didn’t want help. One is a boy in ESL named Ashraf. His English is pretty poor for his class. He was a day student earlier, and I think he was just overwhelmed and didn’t try. He then moved into the dorm and seems happier and more motivated. I’d started tutoring him during study hall every once in a while—oh his English was SO bad. He knew next to nothing. He has been showing improvement though, so I’m glad that he’s not completely in over his head. Anyway, Ashraf had a bag in his hand and had Sameh translate for him. Ashraf said that he had been very discouraged and wanted to leave NUA, but then I talked to him and helped him and he felt encouraged because he knows he has a sister here. He gave me the bag, and in it was a little statue of St. George holding a lamb. Different. But really sweet. Sameh had asked for my picture a while ago—I wasn’t sure for what. But on Sunday night he gave me a black mug. He told me to boil water, so I did. When I poured it in the mug, my picture appeared on the side of it. It was really sweet for him to go out of his way like that. He was really proud of it too. He is very good, but I have to pray for patience with him sometimes.
I had a good conversation with a tenth grader named Mina yesterday. Last week he had brought up the idea Heaven will be boring. I’ve explained to him that all his mind can wrap around is what he knows here and now, but he has absolutely no concept of Heaven. From there we started talking about hellfire and how long it lasts. And I showed him several verses and explained that eternal suffering is still eternal life and that it’s the punishment that lasts forever, but not the suffering. We jumped around to different topics and questions that he’s never found satisfactory answers to. I was really thankful for the wrestling with God and the Bible that I went through in high school because now I feel much more capable and comfortable answering difficult questions. I feel prepared and I wouldn’t be if I didn’t have to struggle myself. But beyond the moderate satisfaction he got to his answers, I realized that he falls in the same category as so many people in the world. They believe they are always messing up, which means they’re constantly letting God down. They know that God “loves” them, but it is different than any other relationship they have, so “love” is kind of undefined. They believe they’re going to be lost anyway, so they just accept it and enjoy their lives here and now. I told him of God’s incredible love for him—in the most realistic way I could express it—and I told him what grace means and how he cannot do anything to make God love him any more or less. Even the “good” people are not righteous enough for God’s standards, but that’s okay because Jesus’ blood covers us. Humdolillah. One of the other boys that’s a lot like him, Mavdy, came over and listened and then asked some questions. I was so thankful that he was there. There are many of these guys here that are free thinkers, very quick thinkers, somewhat naturally rebellious, and really enjoy their friends. They do tend to get in more trouble, but they’re good guys. Personality Dimensions-wise, they’re pretty green-orange or orange-green (NT & SP for Myers-Briggs). But they’re so good. And I really appreciate them. And because of their natural bucking against authority, they feel like God must also be disappointed and annoyed with them too. Doignadsiofn! (“For You created my inmost being. You knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise You because I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Your works are wonderful; I know that full well.” Psalm 139:13,14 BOOM!) I told Mina to come to me when he has questions, and he seemed pleased with that. Humdolillah. I’m thankful to be here.
I’ve been pretty excited about my junior and senior Bible classes. There is no subject I’d rather teach than Bible. We just went through a good study about what the Bible says about dancing because they had questions about it, especially in regard to the school’s policy. I feel like I helped them to feel empowered, hopefully like they could study things on their own. Or maybe know how to go about studying things. After break, we’re getting into talking about marriage. I feel like Mrs. Peterson, my own high school bible teacher. I was talking to some girls tonight, and they mentioned something about a man hitting a woman. I seemed to give off a strong opinion, and that sparked a conversation. They said that it’s so easy and common for a man to hit his wife, especially in Upper Egypt. When he does that, it kind of asserts his authority and makes him like a man. I said that God gave him a bigger body and stronger muscles to do good—to protect her—not to use them against her. And if he isn’t responsible enough to be a man, he should probably lose his man parts… But that would mean just about all of their dads would be eunuchs. One of the girls was saying that a man will hit his wife so hard that she’ll fall to the ground—and I am sure she is speaking from her own family experiences. Then the girls started talking about how you can’t trust men because they act one way, and then when they get married they become completely different people. Saeda said that her aunt was engaged to someone who had said that she wouldn’t have to wear this big black thing (the Christian equivalent of Muslim-woman clothes, where instead of putting it on your head, you have to hold it over you and hold open a small slit in the front to see through). After they got married he started hitting her and insisted that she wore the black thing. I am going to be teaching them very much in depth about red flags in dating and about domestic violence. The girls were so pleased with America when they learned that a person can be sent to jail for hitting his wife. Saeda said that a guy here at the school hit his girlfriend, and the girlfriend just accepted it. Saeda said that if that is happening when they’re only dating, it will get much worse in marriage—I was very proud of her insight. I pray that these precious girls would be physically safe in the future and that the guys that they end up with would treat them well. They’re so sweet. And I pray that the guys would be self-aware enough to recognize where their anger is coming from and how to go about handling it. These guys are good. There is a lot of aggression—it’s a very aggressive culture in general—but I know many of the guys very deeply. And I believe that if the students are taught good things, they can improve much. The same goes for raising kids. I believe that most parents have good intentions. Many of them just don’t know how to go about doing things—or they have never seen a good example, so they’re doing the best for what they know. I’m very much looking forward to teaching them what to look for in a person—good things and red flags, fundamental differences between men and women, and principles for raising children. “Nanny 911” is my favorite show, so I’m going to use clips from that show to illustrate my points. May God give them wisdom and guidance.
There is a word in Arabic called “cayad” (or “cayada” for females), and it describes someone who like to make people angry. Said in anger, it is an insult. Otherwise it’s okay. I really really enjoy being cayada. I am not exactly sure why, but I get so much pleasure from being intentionally irritating or difficult. A friend told me on skype the other night, “I was thinking the other day, you’re the closest thing to a bully I’ve ever had.” I don’t know why I am so proud of that. Anyway, now you understand cayada.
I’m learning more Arabic. I’m trying to be intentional about it. I can understand more than last time, so I’m happy about that. I’ve also been better at putting sentences together. Yesterday the senior class president, Peter (who was one of my good friends when I was here last time) made an announcement in Arabic to the seniors about how they’re going to play the staff in volleyball and to wear red. When he was finished, I went up to him and said in a cayada voice, “I am going to wear aHmar (red) tomorrow.” “Ya miss, no.” “Yes. I am going to wear aHmar. All the staff will wear aHmar.” “No, you cannot!” And I just beamed at him. We played a couple hours ago. Both teams were wearing “aHmar.”
They all just left for home leave. There is a Muslim feast on Friday where they slaughter tons and tons of animals—beautiful sight—and school is cancelled then and for the next week. We’re going to see some stuff around Cairo, and then next week I am going with some others to visit students in Zewak and Tatalaya (near Asyut, for those of you familiar with Egyptian geography). I am really looking forward to it. I pray that the students would all be safe. We take praying for traveling mercies very seriously ever since the microbus accident two years ago.
Love you all.
I had a good conversation with a tenth grader named Mina yesterday. Last week he had brought up the idea Heaven will be boring. I’ve explained to him that all his mind can wrap around is what he knows here and now, but he has absolutely no concept of Heaven. From there we started talking about hellfire and how long it lasts. And I showed him several verses and explained that eternal suffering is still eternal life and that it’s the punishment that lasts forever, but not the suffering. We jumped around to different topics and questions that he’s never found satisfactory answers to. I was really thankful for the wrestling with God and the Bible that I went through in high school because now I feel much more capable and comfortable answering difficult questions. I feel prepared and I wouldn’t be if I didn’t have to struggle myself. But beyond the moderate satisfaction he got to his answers, I realized that he falls in the same category as so many people in the world. They believe they are always messing up, which means they’re constantly letting God down. They know that God “loves” them, but it is different than any other relationship they have, so “love” is kind of undefined. They believe they’re going to be lost anyway, so they just accept it and enjoy their lives here and now. I told him of God’s incredible love for him—in the most realistic way I could express it—and I told him what grace means and how he cannot do anything to make God love him any more or less. Even the “good” people are not righteous enough for God’s standards, but that’s okay because Jesus’ blood covers us. Humdolillah. One of the other boys that’s a lot like him, Mavdy, came over and listened and then asked some questions. I was so thankful that he was there. There are many of these guys here that are free thinkers, very quick thinkers, somewhat naturally rebellious, and really enjoy their friends. They do tend to get in more trouble, but they’re good guys. Personality Dimensions-wise, they’re pretty green-orange or orange-green (NT & SP for Myers-Briggs). But they’re so good. And I really appreciate them. And because of their natural bucking against authority, they feel like God must also be disappointed and annoyed with them too. Doignadsiofn! (“For You created my inmost being. You knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise You because I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Your works are wonderful; I know that full well.” Psalm 139:13,14 BOOM!) I told Mina to come to me when he has questions, and he seemed pleased with that. Humdolillah. I’m thankful to be here.
I’ve been pretty excited about my junior and senior Bible classes. There is no subject I’d rather teach than Bible. We just went through a good study about what the Bible says about dancing because they had questions about it, especially in regard to the school’s policy. I feel like I helped them to feel empowered, hopefully like they could study things on their own. Or maybe know how to go about studying things. After break, we’re getting into talking about marriage. I feel like Mrs. Peterson, my own high school bible teacher. I was talking to some girls tonight, and they mentioned something about a man hitting a woman. I seemed to give off a strong opinion, and that sparked a conversation. They said that it’s so easy and common for a man to hit his wife, especially in Upper Egypt. When he does that, it kind of asserts his authority and makes him like a man. I said that God gave him a bigger body and stronger muscles to do good—to protect her—not to use them against her. And if he isn’t responsible enough to be a man, he should probably lose his man parts… But that would mean just about all of their dads would be eunuchs. One of the girls was saying that a man will hit his wife so hard that she’ll fall to the ground—and I am sure she is speaking from her own family experiences. Then the girls started talking about how you can’t trust men because they act one way, and then when they get married they become completely different people. Saeda said that her aunt was engaged to someone who had said that she wouldn’t have to wear this big black thing (the Christian equivalent of Muslim-woman clothes, where instead of putting it on your head, you have to hold it over you and hold open a small slit in the front to see through). After they got married he started hitting her and insisted that she wore the black thing. I am going to be teaching them very much in depth about red flags in dating and about domestic violence. The girls were so pleased with America when they learned that a person can be sent to jail for hitting his wife. Saeda said that a guy here at the school hit his girlfriend, and the girlfriend just accepted it. Saeda said that if that is happening when they’re only dating, it will get much worse in marriage—I was very proud of her insight. I pray that these precious girls would be physically safe in the future and that the guys that they end up with would treat them well. They’re so sweet. And I pray that the guys would be self-aware enough to recognize where their anger is coming from and how to go about handling it. These guys are good. There is a lot of aggression—it’s a very aggressive culture in general—but I know many of the guys very deeply. And I believe that if the students are taught good things, they can improve much. The same goes for raising kids. I believe that most parents have good intentions. Many of them just don’t know how to go about doing things—or they have never seen a good example, so they’re doing the best for what they know. I’m very much looking forward to teaching them what to look for in a person—good things and red flags, fundamental differences between men and women, and principles for raising children. “Nanny 911” is my favorite show, so I’m going to use clips from that show to illustrate my points. May God give them wisdom and guidance.
There is a word in Arabic called “cayad” (or “cayada” for females), and it describes someone who like to make people angry. Said in anger, it is an insult. Otherwise it’s okay. I really really enjoy being cayada. I am not exactly sure why, but I get so much pleasure from being intentionally irritating or difficult. A friend told me on skype the other night, “I was thinking the other day, you’re the closest thing to a bully I’ve ever had.” I don’t know why I am so proud of that. Anyway, now you understand cayada.
I’m learning more Arabic. I’m trying to be intentional about it. I can understand more than last time, so I’m happy about that. I’ve also been better at putting sentences together. Yesterday the senior class president, Peter (who was one of my good friends when I was here last time) made an announcement in Arabic to the seniors about how they’re going to play the staff in volleyball and to wear red. When he was finished, I went up to him and said in a cayada voice, “I am going to wear aHmar (red) tomorrow.” “Ya miss, no.” “Yes. I am going to wear aHmar. All the staff will wear aHmar.” “No, you cannot!” And I just beamed at him. We played a couple hours ago. Both teams were wearing “aHmar.”
Love you all.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
I am rich.
I was at Pastor Tom and Gladys' house tonight with Austin and Jeff, and we were deciding where to go for the upcoming break. We want to visit some students' villages and do some other things. We were talking about who lived where and where we could stay, and there were some that they said we should not stay with. Why? Because the families are too poor, and it would just wipe them out to have American guests stay at their houses. I have such a hard time taking from them anyway (though I want to please them by accepting their generosity), but taking so much from their families just hurts. There are so many students with so little money. One family apparently had the door on their refrigerator break, so it was/is(?) leaning against the fridge for months because they couldn't afford to fix it. The dad works so hard for that family. Just thinking about how much these people need makes me embarrassed of how much I have. I want to give more than I receive. I pray that God would help me to be selfless. Who am I to be born into such a good family and to have so much? I have carpet, air conditioning, a freezer, microwave, bed, good pillow. I have lots of clothes, though it doesn't feel like a lot sometimes. I am so blessed, and that the realization makes me feel very restless.
Pastor Tom said that there is at least one person crying in his office every day about not being able to pay their school bill. There are so many people in need. If you are able to help anyone, let me know. I will give you information about the student and a picture. Even $20/month is very helpful. Feel free to email me.
"Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, and in everything give thanks..." 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
Pastor Tom said that there is at least one person crying in his office every day about not being able to pay their school bill. There are so many people in need. If you are able to help anyone, let me know. I will give you information about the student and a picture. Even $20/month is very helpful. Feel free to email me.
"Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, and in everything give thanks..." 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
I'm proud of them.
Sabbath, October 13, 2012 2:00pm
Things have been busy but good lately. I am so proud of the ESL students because they understand so much more than when they first got here just over a month ago. Some had panicked faces when I asked their names at the beginning of the year, and now they can understand quite a bit of what I’m saying if I use very simple vocabulary, hand motions, and an occasional Arabic word.
I’m having a hard time with the idea of leaving in December. I am supposed to go home to my normal life and just continue. And my core resists that intensely—not the going home part, but the part that is me just moving on as if none of this exists. My best comparison is to an ended relationship. It hurts incredibly deeply to leave, but you know that you must find a new normal. And knowing that time heals is fiercely bittersweet because you want to be okay, but the thought of not being as close to someone or something that was once your world is such a broken thought. “Broken” meaning, messed up… or not the way that things were supposed to be. Coming home is inevitable, and I love home. I miss home. But I just don’t want to let this go. How in the world will I let go? This whole world is here. And it’s not just a person or two. It’s 160 plus the ones that have finished or dropped out plus the sound of the mosques and the donkeys and the familiar hallways and smells. I hold on to things very deeply, and it’s hard for me to let go. But I will. Enough, that is.
Bassem is a senior that I taught in ninth grade. I have always liked him, but he hasn’t always been the easiest student. He seemed pent up with deep thoughts and emotions, and just unsettled and angry. It comes very naturally to me to see and believe that there is a lot of good in people, or at least the potential for good. I’m very thankful that God has given me an empathetic heart, and Bassem has always had a special place in my heart. Anyway, I remember that in ninth grade, he was assigned to work with another student in class, and they were having some sort of a scuffle and were both too proud to do a class-related activity together that they preferred to be sent to the principal. Stupid. The other night I was talking to Gladys, and I was saying that I was so proud of him because he seems much more mature than he used to and he was up front translating for Pastor Tom. She said that he has changed so much and that one time he reacted in some positive and unexpected way. Pastor Tom asked him, “Bassem, what happened to you? Where did you learn that?” “From you.” Tears just rushed to Pastor Tom’s eyes.
It’s times like that that make up for the illogical student who stands up to give a contradictory diatribe about how the teacher is unfair followed by a standing ovation from the rest of the class. It’s times like that that make up for ESL boys trying to fight, having to be held back by other classmates the one time that we go outside to sing songs and do something different for Bible class.
After study hall in the ad building, I was by the water fountain by one of my eleventh grade students. I felt like I should stay and connect with him just for a second by asking him how he was doing in a tone like I actually wanted to know. He said he was fine and told me that he was so excited when he heard that I was coming back because he had heard from the other students who had had me before that I was a nice and good teacher. That surprised me but made me feel good, especially since this guy and I don’t really connect in class at all. He came to me the next night after punching a wall. So I took care of his hand, and tried to talk to be as understanding as I could. I asked him what he does when he’s angry and some other questions. I asked him if he talks to anybody. He told me that he’s not really close to anyone here. I told him that I would listen if ever he needed someone. And he smiled at me. And I felt his trust.
There’s a girl in ESL here who bothered me at first. She wears smoky eye makeup and in the rare times that she would make eye contact, she would close here eyes halfway like someone next to a bonfire and her head would ever so slightly bobble around. What are you doing? I spent a while trying to figure out if there was something wrong with her or if she was just strange like that. Her English is probably the worst in the entire class. And her shyness and insecurity are obnoxious in that she almost refuses to try to understand English and will ask questions through other people. She didn’t want to say something out loud in Arabic but wanted to speak through a friend. I told her no. While seeing other sick girls in the dorm, I have had the opportunity to connect with her. We don’t talk at all because her English is just as bad as ever (poor thing is about to drown…), but she makes eye contact with me and smiles. She likes me. I love her.
With my juniors and seniors I have been teaching them about confrontation and about self-defeating habits. I taught them how to use I-Statements (I feel…, It hurt me when…, etc.), to not use superlatives (always, never, everyone, all the time, etc), and some other things. One boy told me very frankly that he wasn’t going to use any of this stuff in real life but is just studying to pass the class. I told him that that’s fine because it’s now in his head, and he will benefit greatly from just being aware of it. I worry about this student a lot. He so much trapped inside of him. He’s just a big ball of hurt, and I don’t know what happened, but I want him to be okay. Hopefully God can use me to help him. I feel like the forgiveness part of our class will be incredibly difficult but potentially groundbreaking.
Things have been busy but good lately. I am so proud of the ESL students because they understand so much more than when they first got here just over a month ago. Some had panicked faces when I asked their names at the beginning of the year, and now they can understand quite a bit of what I’m saying if I use very simple vocabulary, hand motions, and an occasional Arabic word.
I’m having a hard time with the idea of leaving in December. I am supposed to go home to my normal life and just continue. And my core resists that intensely—not the going home part, but the part that is me just moving on as if none of this exists. My best comparison is to an ended relationship. It hurts incredibly deeply to leave, but you know that you must find a new normal. And knowing that time heals is fiercely bittersweet because you want to be okay, but the thought of not being as close to someone or something that was once your world is such a broken thought. “Broken” meaning, messed up… or not the way that things were supposed to be. Coming home is inevitable, and I love home. I miss home. But I just don’t want to let this go. How in the world will I let go? This whole world is here. And it’s not just a person or two. It’s 160 plus the ones that have finished or dropped out plus the sound of the mosques and the donkeys and the familiar hallways and smells. I hold on to things very deeply, and it’s hard for me to let go. But I will. Enough, that is.
Bassem is a senior that I taught in ninth grade. I have always liked him, but he hasn’t always been the easiest student. He seemed pent up with deep thoughts and emotions, and just unsettled and angry. It comes very naturally to me to see and believe that there is a lot of good in people, or at least the potential for good. I’m very thankful that God has given me an empathetic heart, and Bassem has always had a special place in my heart. Anyway, I remember that in ninth grade, he was assigned to work with another student in class, and they were having some sort of a scuffle and were both too proud to do a class-related activity together that they preferred to be sent to the principal. Stupid. The other night I was talking to Gladys, and I was saying that I was so proud of him because he seems much more mature than he used to and he was up front translating for Pastor Tom. She said that he has changed so much and that one time he reacted in some positive and unexpected way. Pastor Tom asked him, “Bassem, what happened to you? Where did you learn that?” “From you.” Tears just rushed to Pastor Tom’s eyes.
It’s times like that that make up for the illogical student who stands up to give a contradictory diatribe about how the teacher is unfair followed by a standing ovation from the rest of the class. It’s times like that that make up for ESL boys trying to fight, having to be held back by other classmates the one time that we go outside to sing songs and do something different for Bible class.
After study hall in the ad building, I was by the water fountain by one of my eleventh grade students. I felt like I should stay and connect with him just for a second by asking him how he was doing in a tone like I actually wanted to know. He said he was fine and told me that he was so excited when he heard that I was coming back because he had heard from the other students who had had me before that I was a nice and good teacher. That surprised me but made me feel good, especially since this guy and I don’t really connect in class at all. He came to me the next night after punching a wall. So I took care of his hand, and tried to talk to be as understanding as I could. I asked him what he does when he’s angry and some other questions. I asked him if he talks to anybody. He told me that he’s not really close to anyone here. I told him that I would listen if ever he needed someone. And he smiled at me. And I felt his trust.
There’s a girl in ESL here who bothered me at first. She wears smoky eye makeup and in the rare times that she would make eye contact, she would close here eyes halfway like someone next to a bonfire and her head would ever so slightly bobble around. What are you doing? I spent a while trying to figure out if there was something wrong with her or if she was just strange like that. Her English is probably the worst in the entire class. And her shyness and insecurity are obnoxious in that she almost refuses to try to understand English and will ask questions through other people. She didn’t want to say something out loud in Arabic but wanted to speak through a friend. I told her no. While seeing other sick girls in the dorm, I have had the opportunity to connect with her. We don’t talk at all because her English is just as bad as ever (poor thing is about to drown…), but she makes eye contact with me and smiles. She likes me. I love her.
With my juniors and seniors I have been teaching them about confrontation and about self-defeating habits. I taught them how to use I-Statements (I feel…, It hurt me when…, etc.), to not use superlatives (always, never, everyone, all the time, etc), and some other things. One boy told me very frankly that he wasn’t going to use any of this stuff in real life but is just studying to pass the class. I told him that that’s fine because it’s now in his head, and he will benefit greatly from just being aware of it. I worry about this student a lot. He so much trapped inside of him. He’s just a big ball of hurt, and I don’t know what happened, but I want him to be okay. Hopefully God can use me to help him. I feel like the forgiveness part of our class will be incredibly difficult but potentially groundbreaking.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Dessert
Most Egyptian desserts are gross. I said it. Most are sticky and shiny and syrupy. It's just too much for me. Every Sabbath for lunch the cafeteria serves basboosa, which is somewhat like a cake that has been saturated in syrup. I'm not sure it's possible for it to be sweeter than it is. Bethany mentioned one recipe that had syrup that was two cups of sugar and one cup of water. There is also a dessert that was compared to hair when it was first introduced to me. Oh, yes, now I want to eat your dessert. Now that you have compared it to hair. I haven't had that since I've been in Egypt this time, probably because I haven't left the school very much.
I feel like I have permission to rag on Egyptian desserts because they don't seem to like American desserts very well either. Taylor made apple fritters a couple weeks ago. She gave one to Mary, our Egyptian housemate. And when she saw that Mary was leaving to meet up with one of the students (Mina), Taylor gave her another one to bring out to him. She said to tell him that she made it. Then she added, "And if it's bad, Sara made it." I watched out the window for a second to see if I could see Mina's reaction. My eyes aren't very good and he was at least a hundred feet from our villa, so I didn't think I'd be able to see his facial expression. I didn't see his face, but I did see him take a huge step forward and upchuck whatever was in his mouth into the cornfield across the dirt road from our villa. I don't like the word "upchuck," but I couldn't think of another word to describe how fast he did it and how far he projected it. The verdict: I made the apple fritters.
Taylor made shortbread the other night, and two of the students that tried it seemed like they could barely keep it down, and the other one that was at our house was too scared to try it. So I guess things are mutual.
I feel like I have permission to rag on Egyptian desserts because they don't seem to like American desserts very well either. Taylor made apple fritters a couple weeks ago. She gave one to Mary, our Egyptian housemate. And when she saw that Mary was leaving to meet up with one of the students (Mina), Taylor gave her another one to bring out to him. She said to tell him that she made it. Then she added, "And if it's bad, Sara made it." I watched out the window for a second to see if I could see Mina's reaction. My eyes aren't very good and he was at least a hundred feet from our villa, so I didn't think I'd be able to see his facial expression. I didn't see his face, but I did see him take a huge step forward and upchuck whatever was in his mouth into the cornfield across the dirt road from our villa. I don't like the word "upchuck," but I couldn't think of another word to describe how fast he did it and how far he projected it. The verdict: I made the apple fritters.
Taylor made shortbread the other night, and two of the students that tried it seemed like they could barely keep it down, and the other one that was at our house was too scared to try it. So I guess things are mutual.
Love.
I’m thinking of things to do with my 11th and 12th graders for their marriage and family class. We're spending a good chunk of the beginning to help them understand themselves, each other, and how to have functional relationships in general. I was just looking through the EQ and Your Child book that Krista gave me before I came here, and I was going through the section about self-affirmation. In some activities they were supposed to write what they like about themselves, in others, other people affirm them. There was one where they each had a pretty piece of paper with a nice border and they would write their name in the middle. Then everyone in the family was supposed to pass the papers in one direction and write two things that they like about whoever’s paper they had. They would continue until they got their own paper back. And I was thinking about which activities could work and which wouldn’t and maybe I could combine activities, or maybe I should do something else before another one. And all of a sudden my eyes started to sting and I got that feeling like my heart was higher in my chest than normal. And I realized that I just want that for my students so badly. I want them to know just how wonderful they are. Even just a glimpse of God’s love for them could change their lives. No, they’re not perfect. I’m not perfect. But they are so precious to me. And their roots have been combined with their story and their personality and their choices, and… I don’t even know. I am very much in my heart right now. And I feel very thankful that God has given me this deep love for them because sometimes I forget that it’s there. But more importantly, I have a better understanding of His love and why He stays and why He forgives and why He disciplines and why He orchestrates. No two people are the same. Everyone is able to be known and studied and loved deeply.
(Irrelevant side note: I realized then when I speak about things I am passionate about I use less commas and more “ands.” Maybe I don’t want any intentional word to be lost in a list.)
(Irrelevant side note: I realized then when I speak about things I am passionate about I use less commas and more “ands.” Maybe I don’t want any intentional word to be lost in a list.)
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Bugs, Money, and Lovely Students
I took this picture out the window of a microbus while driving from the school to the metro station.
I cleaned lizard poop off my kitchen floor this morning. That's a new one. He lives under the fridge. I don't really mind because he's not crawling on me, and he probably eats bugs in our kitchen.
I love all of the students--even the ones I don't know--but there are a couple of the ESL students that make me so excited to be around. There are two that are really tiny and excitable, and if I had a papoose, I'd wear them on my back. One boy is named Akram. (He's the one who broke his arm a couple weeks ago.) There is a retired couple teaching here, Chuck and Janet Schlunt, and last night Janet told me that every day Akram asks how old she is. She said she tells him 600. I laugh every time I think of that. He speaks so little English, that it probably took him a while to understand what she said. Akram, his giant casted arm, and another ESL boy named Ghandy (same name as Ghandi, but pronounced more like "Randy"), were raking our front "yard" this morning. I tried to tell Akram that Mrs. Janet told me that story. I said very clearly and slowly, "Mrs. Janet said every day you ask her, 'How old are you?'" He responded, "I'm fine, thanks." I said, "Mrs. Janet told me that every day you say to her, 'Andik kem sena?'" He answered, "Sixteen." First of all, I'd put money on you not being sixteen because when we were at the doctor I heard you answer, "I don't know. Sixteen." Secondly, you look twelve. Third, I wasn't asking you how old you were. Eventually he got it though. He is so cute.
Yesterday afternoon I was called to come to the girls' dorm because one of the students had somehow cut her foot open in the cafeteria. The girls' dean, Ms. Janet, had cleaned it and wrapped it, but eventually the bandage was soaked with blood. Ron and I went to the dorm, and the cut was deeper than I had been led to believe, but it definitely wasn't as bad as it could have been. I cleaned it with betadine, and Ron held the skin together as I put wound closure strips on it. This poor little girl was trying to keep it together but couldn't, so she cried into her friend's shoulder. Then we wrapped it up and asked her if she had a clean cotton sock to put over it. She didn't, so Ron went home and got one for her. I'm still occasionally surprised by how little some of the students have. What would it be like to not have a sock? I slept at the girls' dorm last night, and they were SO cute and acted so honored that I was there. They treated me with the typical Egyptian hospitality. As I was leaving this morning, a girl was walking to the dorm, and her flip flop ("ship ship") was broken. I made some comment about it in passing, and she said she didn't have any other ones. I take so much for granted. And part of me doesn't know any better because I don't know any differently, but it's good to have my eyes opened. When we took Akram to the doctor for an x-ray of his arm and the doctor said it was broken, he cried a little bit. I thought that maybe the idea of that was just scary to him and he didn't want a cast, but I would guess that a part of that is also for financial reasons. The doctor's visits, x-ray, medicine, and cast supplies cost him about 160 pounds (about $26). The most that one of the students can make in one hour of work on campus is 2.50 LE (~$0.41), and most of them don't make that. I asked Akram, and he said his father is a farmer, and I know that the farmers don't make very much money.
Just now I smashed a beetle between my sheets. Good time to change them, I guess. The bugs are nothing like they were when I was here last. At one point I had had 170 mosquito bites on one leg. My legs looked like I had small pox. We used to sleep with sweatshirts on and tie the hood as tightly as we could over our heads so that they couldn't bite our foreheads or buzz in our ears while we were trying to sleep. They're nowhere near as bad this time. I know that every once in a while, some shady truck drives in and sprays stuff around the campus. Not ideal, but I guess better that way. Fortunately malaria isn't a problem around here. I did wake up at about 3:30 this morning while sleeping in the dorm because I was maniacally scratching my legs and ankles. But that has been the extent of it.
There is an eleventh grade student that I have known since he was in ESL. He is and always has been incredibly motivated to learn and has very much stood out among the students. He is quiet and thoughtful and very considerate. He loves vocabulary and has excitedly brought me big lists of words for me to explain to him. It seemed like he got them straight out of the dictionary. When I came back to visit when he was in ninth grade, I remember that some of the words were "premenstrual" and "prophylaxis." I laughed to myself. It would have been inappropriate and really awkward for him if I told him what premenstrual meant. I don't remember what I said. He really has a love for learning. Anyway, he recently dropped one of his more difficult classes, and when Mrs. Gladys asked why, he told her that he doesn't have time to study. Through further questioning she figured out that he works three jobs on campus so that he can afford to be here. There are some students at NUA that I would feel comfortable raising money for or sponsoring myself, but I can't think of another student I would advocate for more than I would for this student. He has worked very hard as long as I have known him and will definitely make something of himself. He has a very good heart. If there is anyone reading this who would be willing to help sponsor him, please let me know and I'd be happy to tell you more about him. Any amount at all--even $10-20/month would help tremendously.
Please pray for one student who was expelled this past week. He allegedly violated one of the no-tolerance policies at the school. ("Allegedly" is not implying doubt.) I think that he is a good kid. It is always sad having students leave because there's no real way of keeping track of them. And I can't reach them or be a good influence on them or talk to them or even just see how they're doing. Anyway, he was really torn up about it, and I just wish the best for him. And it's too bad because then the last two full years he spent here were a waste because NUA graduates receive an American diploma, not an Egyptian one.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
"He has a fever in his stomach"
I don't have much time, but I thought I'd update briefly. Things have been going well. They've been picking up too. Last night I stopped at the ad building during study hall to get something and was mobbed by sick/supposedly sick students the entire time. I had one boy with chest pain, one with a mysterious rash, lots of sore throats, headaches, congestion, earache, etc. I've recently had a lot of guys with sprained ankles and wrists. They're all too cool to use crutches though.
I've been pretty busy lately. Teaching four classes and being the nurse. But it's good. And I've learned a lot. I went to give one of the boys in ESL medicine in between the classes, and a bunch of the other ESL students came over and were saying they had the flu, etc. ("The flu" to them is apparently anything--fever, congestion, sore throat, headache...?) Taylor said that after I left the class just went crazy. She has the lower end ESL students who hardly speak any English whatsoever. She said they were fake coughing and sneezing and saying, "Miss Sara!" "Ana ruah Miss Sara!" She said that someone "tripped" and fell dramatically on the floor and someone else ran into a desk and toppled onto the floor and acted all hurt. They were making so much noise that the students from the classroom across from hers were all staring to figure out what was going on. It apparently took ten minutes to calm them down and shut them up. I was laughing so hard when she told me, and I'm smiling really big as I type this. How funny is that? "Whoops! I just ran into a desk and fell over"? I avoided study hall at all costs tonight. When I had to go see a couple students for follow up, I went around the back to find them and stayed far far away from the library, where the ESL students are.
Yesterday I had a really meaningful conversation with one of the students I had taught in ninth grade who is now a senior. His English is really good, and he is quiet, thoughtful, and just good. We talked for a while about life and our personalities and worldviews, etc. I haven't had as many deep conversations with students, and I felt like he and I could relate to each other a lot. He told me that when he first came to NUA, he was so nervous and everything was so new to him. He wasn't doing very well in his classes, which was so unlike him. But he said that Jessica and I made him feel like himself again. He just expressed in a very articulate and deep way how much he appreciated us. That made me feel so good. If I look back at my blog posts from 2009, some of those times were the most trying and low times I've ever had. This student told me that he wanted to tell me something. It was only him and me in the staff room at this time, and I hadn't expected it but then was filled with anticipated horror, "Oh no... what if he's going to tell me he's in love with me..." (I've had a couple students tell me that in the past and I really didn't expect that from this one, but I got incredibly nervous and prayed that that wouldn't be it.) Then he said very earnestly, "I own you." Pause. "What?" "I own you." My racing thoughts were trying to interpret that: "Oh no! Is he saying that I belong to him like he's trying to be romantic?! What does that mean?!" And then it clicked. He meant to say, "I owe you." Al humdolillah (Praise be to God.)
Last week, there was a problem with one of the water heaters in the girls' dorm at about 10:30 or 11pm. It was making really loud noises--I'm not sure what was happening exactly, but apparently it was really scary. All the girls ran out of the dorm freaked out. And the heroic boys dashed out of the dorm, running across the center of campus to rescue anyone in need. Crises are handled in two ways here: panicking and fainting. It's a school rule that the girls aren't allowed to faint. There was too much fainting before, so Peggy said that they'll have to see a doctor off campus before they're allowed to come back if they're going to faint. Anyway, a couple girls fainted, and the boys didn't know what to do. Chris, one of the SMs, told some of the confused and worried boys to get her water. To drink. They ran and got the hose and sprayed her down... hahaha! I was taking prayer requests the next day in class, and one of the guys said, "I want to thank God because we were heroes," and he smiled proudly. (He wasn't one who hosed down the girl.)
There are many funny stories. I'm sure that they'd be funnier if you were here with me and knew all the people. Much love to you.
I've been pretty busy lately. Teaching four classes and being the nurse. But it's good. And I've learned a lot. I went to give one of the boys in ESL medicine in between the classes, and a bunch of the other ESL students came over and were saying they had the flu, etc. ("The flu" to them is apparently anything--fever, congestion, sore throat, headache...?) Taylor said that after I left the class just went crazy. She has the lower end ESL students who hardly speak any English whatsoever. She said they were fake coughing and sneezing and saying, "Miss Sara!" "Ana ruah Miss Sara!" She said that someone "tripped" and fell dramatically on the floor and someone else ran into a desk and toppled onto the floor and acted all hurt. They were making so much noise that the students from the classroom across from hers were all staring to figure out what was going on. It apparently took ten minutes to calm them down and shut them up. I was laughing so hard when she told me, and I'm smiling really big as I type this. How funny is that? "Whoops! I just ran into a desk and fell over"? I avoided study hall at all costs tonight. When I had to go see a couple students for follow up, I went around the back to find them and stayed far far away from the library, where the ESL students are.
Yesterday I had a really meaningful conversation with one of the students I had taught in ninth grade who is now a senior. His English is really good, and he is quiet, thoughtful, and just good. We talked for a while about life and our personalities and worldviews, etc. I haven't had as many deep conversations with students, and I felt like he and I could relate to each other a lot. He told me that when he first came to NUA, he was so nervous and everything was so new to him. He wasn't doing very well in his classes, which was so unlike him. But he said that Jessica and I made him feel like himself again. He just expressed in a very articulate and deep way how much he appreciated us. That made me feel so good. If I look back at my blog posts from 2009, some of those times were the most trying and low times I've ever had. This student told me that he wanted to tell me something. It was only him and me in the staff room at this time, and I hadn't expected it but then was filled with anticipated horror, "Oh no... what if he's going to tell me he's in love with me..." (I've had a couple students tell me that in the past and I really didn't expect that from this one, but I got incredibly nervous and prayed that that wouldn't be it.) Then he said very earnestly, "I own you." Pause. "What?" "I own you." My racing thoughts were trying to interpret that: "Oh no! Is he saying that I belong to him like he's trying to be romantic?! What does that mean?!" And then it clicked. He meant to say, "I owe you." Al humdolillah (Praise be to God.)
Last week, there was a problem with one of the water heaters in the girls' dorm at about 10:30 or 11pm. It was making really loud noises--I'm not sure what was happening exactly, but apparently it was really scary. All the girls ran out of the dorm freaked out. And the heroic boys dashed out of the dorm, running across the center of campus to rescue anyone in need. Crises are handled in two ways here: panicking and fainting. It's a school rule that the girls aren't allowed to faint. There was too much fainting before, so Peggy said that they'll have to see a doctor off campus before they're allowed to come back if they're going to faint. Anyway, a couple girls fainted, and the boys didn't know what to do. Chris, one of the SMs, told some of the confused and worried boys to get her water. To drink. They ran and got the hose and sprayed her down... hahaha! I was taking prayer requests the next day in class, and one of the guys said, "I want to thank God because we were heroes," and he smiled proudly. (He wasn't one who hosed down the girl.)
There are many funny stories. I'm sure that they'd be funnier if you were here with me and knew all the people. Much love to you.
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