Well sorry for the long delay AGAIN. Clearly I'm failing at communication of late, but I'm going to pull the sick girl card again. I've been back to school- the children were so excited. I think some of them thought I wasn't coming back- mostly due to their slightly stunned faces when I walked into the classroom on Tuesday. They kept looking at me like I was about to vanish into thin air the whole week. And when I left the room for my lunch they kept saying, "Teacher, where you go? Where? Stay here." So I clearly capitalized upon their fear and told them if they were naughty I wouldn't come back again. At the end of my first day back I gave them all stickers and hugs at the end of the day (which I never do). I get enough of them touching me when it's unsolicited...I don't want them to think I want them to touch me. Plus if you know me you know I don't do hugs. But some of them were so excited. It was kind of cute.
My friend Hayden from college is here visiting because we were supposed to go to Mumbai. Unfortunately we canceled our tickets because I thought going there with a malfunctioning immune system might be the equivalent of throwing myself into the middle of a Doha roundabout. Instead we're going to Istanbul now for five days. I'm quite excited about this. Although I'm not sure if anything we experience will top yesterday's festivities for National Day. National Day is basically the Fourth of July except with more glitter involved. Most people decorate their cars (because when you have exclusively disposable income what's another paint job for your car?) with enormous Qatari flags, the Qatari flag inside a heart, and sparkles. Sparkles. And more sparkles. These cars will slowly peruse the Corniche along the Gulf and proceed to honk at everyone in sight. Whilst men are sitting on the roofs of the Lexii (what is the plural of Lexus?), in traditional dress, barefoot, holding enormous Qatari flags. Hello tradition meets modernity. Thank you Qatar. STILL missed the sheikh though. Devastated.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Just to shake up the school blogs...
So a surprise trip to the emergency room (or two) is one way to realize what you’re really thankful for. Since last posting I have been in the hospital more frequently than school. I discovered that the place I thought was the emergency room was really just the free clinic near where I live. I discovered this when I went back there last Tuesday and the doctor took one look in my throat and sent me to the real emergency room. To give a little background – I tried to go to school on Tuesday, even though when I woke up I felt like death (which I’m sure had nothing to do with chasing Abdulrahman across the school grounds screaming his name on Monday afternoon) but ended up having to go home mid-morning because I could neither stand nor speak, both of which are prerequisites for dealing with three year olds for an 8 hour day. I tried sleeping on the couch for a few hours but ended up going back to the doctor. Now, this doctor sends me to the ER immediately because I have an abscessed tonsil and am having difficulty breathing. Now, here is where the fun begins.
Upon checking into the ER, I am seen almost immediately. The triage doctor admits me and prescribes an IV with antibiotics. As they are getting ready to give me antibiotics, they ask if I have any allergies. I tell them penicillin…much to their shock. Apparently what I had been taking for the last six days was PENICILLIN. The doctor told me the reason that antibiotic is so effective is because it is a penicillin cocktail. No wonder I didn’t feel any better. But then she kept asking if I had no reaction to it, and I told her no. So they give me a new antibiotic in an IV, keep me for a few hours, and send me home with it to keep taking. So then Thursday morning I wake up and my face is swollen beyond imagination and a red rash is spreading down my neck and chest. Now this frightens me, but as I have the most sensitive skin in the world I go to the free clinic doctor (we’re just about BFF at this point) to make sure I am not being paranoid but no, she sends me back to the ER right away. Where they admit me, for the second time, only to tell me that in 10-15 percent of people with a penicillin allergy, the second antibiotic I had been placed on causes even more severe reactions. BECAUSE IT TOO IS IN THE PENICILLIN FAMILY. WTF. So now I undergo a barrage of tests for malaria, glandular fever, tonsillitis, allergies, etc. (And since then I’ve seen dermatologists, ENT doctors, emergency room doctors, infectious disease specialists… you get the picture.)
Now two days in the hospital for someone with no energy to read, no television, and a moral objection to iPods will afford some time for introspection. Especially while waiting for visitors to arrive. As I was laying there it really hit me for the first time that I was alone in a foreign country and where the choices that I’m making in my life are taking me. My friends here are lovely; they stayed with me, brought me things, are taking care of me, are bringing me juice and food during my convalescence, everything you could ask for. But it’s not a substitute for your family. I mean I suppose in a way we are for each other – we’re all in the same place right now. We’re all about the same age and we all moved here alone so this is what you do for each other, become a kind of family. But sometimes you just want your mom.
But how is this for Providence? My friends showed up at the hospital after school on Thursday with cards from my second grade art class (hilarity) and a card from my mom and Peter! Such serendipity. It was waiting in my mailbox at school. So it was ALMOST like my mom was there, faster than she would have been if I had been in some silly place like Boston or California or something. So I had many nice cards on my little table next to my bed (one of the nurses asked, “Oh, are these from your children?”…. as if. I felt like saying, “Oh, yes. All 31 of them.” Silly wench). Most of them included variants of “Mess DeFelice (various entertaining spellings) I love you. Feel better.” ‘Mess’ is frequently the substitute for Miss, because that is how they say it. Why shouldn’t it be spelled that way too? Plus it’s generally a pretty accurate description of my life. “You’re my best Mess.” (Verbatim from a card). Thanks, kids. The funny thing is it’s like they can see my inner self. It’s so true I can barely do anything but laugh. I am the Mess. My favorite card (which I’m keeping forever) is from a little boy named Youssef who wrote:
“To: Miss Defilice, Please get well soon I miss you a lot so don’t you dare think of being absent next week. From: Youssef 2C”
Yes sir, Youssef.
So, to recap, things I am thankful for:
The genius of the Postal Service
The discovery of non-penicillin based antibiotics
My real family
My new little Doha family
2 C’s Art Class
-The Mess
Monday, November 29, 2010
Since I'm being harassed via multimedia outlets, I'm posting again. Sorry for the gap between posts- I was on vacation for 10 days (during which time I also took vacation from blogging - sorry). I stayed in Doha but did some awesome things. Like get a tan the week before Thanksgiving. Check. Saw Harry Potter 7 twelve hours before it released in the States. Check. Went to 'Ladies Night' at a Latino dance club in Doha. Never again, but check. Got a massage at "Inner Peace Saloon," where they also have 'scrapping' therapy for your body. Also never again, but check. Last Sunday the children were telling me about their vacations and they went to: Syria, 'the Lebanon,' Saudi, Jordan, Dubai, Italy, Morocco, you get the picture. I was like, oh. I went to the mall and went bowling. What a fancy private school I teach at. My favorite thing about that was hearing from one child who went to Lebanon. He told me he saw the snow, so I asked him where. He said, "In the Lebanon. Where the Santa lives." Excuse me what? Oh the simple world view of children.
So the past week and a half have passed in much the same manner as the previous did - starring role: me bumming around in my pajamas. I have been slightly deathly ill for the last 10 days or so. I had to take three days off from school last week because I could not hold myself up to teach in any manner. Fortunately Miss Christine, my teaching assistant, is awesome and told the children that I was not coming back ever unless they were very good. She pretended to call me at the end of the day to deter their unceasingly naughty behavior. (Prime examples of that to come this afternoon. Oh, read on, any who might question this seemingly heartless lie or believe in the goodness of children. Read on.) It may be unsurprising for some of you to learn I still have no health insurance, but considering the insurance is processed by the same man who processed my work and residency visa...two weeks ago (about four months late) I'm less than shocked.
So after writhing in bed with a fever for 3 days at the brink of malnutrition I discover we can go to a hospital complex here for only 30 riyals. I decided to go.
Social experiment. Thus follow my observations:
1. I have no health insurance and am not a citizen of Qatar.
2. For just about $8.00, since I do hold residency, I was treated in a clean, well run government hospital. Entry to exit took me perhaps one hour. In an emergency room. My doctor was polite, thorough, and concerned in her diagnosis.
3. There was also a pharmacy at the hospital where I could purchase all necessary prescriptions, also for under $60.00. Including antibiotics.
So maybe my name was spelled completely wrong. Last name - no effort. Spelled wrong (differently) in two different places. First name - Anne. ? July 13 is also my new birthday. So maybe I pointed this out to the Qatari receptionist, who probably typed it in wrong because she was on her two Blackberries at the time, and her response was "No problem." So maybe the closest thing to a HIPPA notice I saw was the sign on the exam room saying, "Do not make the knock while patient is in the room," I still think the US health care system could take a few pointers out of this. I suppose limitless wealth comes in handy supplying universal health care but still, just saying. I doubt you could get seen in one hour in any ER WITH insurance if you were St John the Baptist holding his own head on the silver platter.
Now, today. Today. First of all, I have tonsilitis and the flu and can barely speak. I am currently bribing the children with a mysterious 'surprise' on Thursday if they are very good this week (*If you have any suggestions, do tell.) because I don't think I would live if they were their usual golden selves. I have to teach sitting down, if that's any indication of my strength level. Let me illustrate. At the end of the day today, naturally after Miss Christine has left, I am left alone with 27 hungry monsters who want nothing more than to go home to mommy. Things are going as well as can be expected today (meaning no one has pissed themselves or is standing on their chair) when all of a sudden I hear a little boy crying. So I turn around and see one standing in front of another and say, "WHAT'S THIS? What happened?" The response? "Hassan* bite me. Bite my face." Sure enough the child's nose is red and marked up where the other child has attempted to BITE IT OFF. So I must go down to the hall supervisor to send one to the nurse and to hold the other one and speak to his parents. I had just returned and was turned counting the small ones left in the room when I look around and realize Abdulrahman* is missing, and not because his mother has come. So I saw another teacher and said, "I have a runner," and was out the door like a shot after Abdulrahman, who knows better and was just being a Gremlin. I had to chase him across the entire school, running (after being barely able to walk the last 2 days) shouting his name (ABDULRAHMAN! ABDULRAHMAN, STOP! STOP RIGHT NOW! STOP!), until I caught him right at the exit of the grounds. The unearthly noise which then began to issue from his mouth caught the attention of all the parents, children, administrators, dogs in the country, and possibly American sonar equipment in the Gulf region. I had to practically drag him back to the KG1 building and he made me feel like the Big Bad Wolf the whole way. I turned my back for FIVE seconds, and a child has attempted to bite another's face in half. Then I turn for another FIVE seconds to deal with the face bite and one escapes across the school. This is all in addition to the child I have had to quarantine at a table alone, in the corner, unable to get out unless I move the table for him, because he hits indiscriminately and then lies about it.
If you still believe in the inherent goodness of children, raise your hand.
So the past week and a half have passed in much the same manner as the previous did - starring role: me bumming around in my pajamas. I have been slightly deathly ill for the last 10 days or so. I had to take three days off from school last week because I could not hold myself up to teach in any manner. Fortunately Miss Christine, my teaching assistant, is awesome and told the children that I was not coming back ever unless they were very good. She pretended to call me at the end of the day to deter their unceasingly naughty behavior. (Prime examples of that to come this afternoon. Oh, read on, any who might question this seemingly heartless lie or believe in the goodness of children. Read on.) It may be unsurprising for some of you to learn I still have no health insurance, but considering the insurance is processed by the same man who processed my work and residency visa...two weeks ago (about four months late) I'm less than shocked.
So after writhing in bed with a fever for 3 days at the brink of malnutrition I discover we can go to a hospital complex here for only 30 riyals. I decided to go.
Social experiment. Thus follow my observations:
1. I have no health insurance and am not a citizen of Qatar.
2. For just about $8.00, since I do hold residency, I was treated in a clean, well run government hospital. Entry to exit took me perhaps one hour. In an emergency room. My doctor was polite, thorough, and concerned in her diagnosis.
3. There was also a pharmacy at the hospital where I could purchase all necessary prescriptions, also for under $60.00. Including antibiotics.
So maybe my name was spelled completely wrong. Last name - no effort. Spelled wrong (differently) in two different places. First name - Anne. ? July 13 is also my new birthday. So maybe I pointed this out to the Qatari receptionist, who probably typed it in wrong because she was on her two Blackberries at the time, and her response was "No problem." So maybe the closest thing to a HIPPA notice I saw was the sign on the exam room saying, "Do not make the knock while patient is in the room," I still think the US health care system could take a few pointers out of this. I suppose limitless wealth comes in handy supplying universal health care but still, just saying. I doubt you could get seen in one hour in any ER WITH insurance if you were St John the Baptist holding his own head on the silver platter.
Now, today. Today. First of all, I have tonsilitis and the flu and can barely speak. I am currently bribing the children with a mysterious 'surprise' on Thursday if they are very good this week (*If you have any suggestions, do tell.) because I don't think I would live if they were their usual golden selves. I have to teach sitting down, if that's any indication of my strength level. Let me illustrate. At the end of the day today, naturally after Miss Christine has left, I am left alone with 27 hungry monsters who want nothing more than to go home to mommy. Things are going as well as can be expected today (meaning no one has pissed themselves or is standing on their chair) when all of a sudden I hear a little boy crying. So I turn around and see one standing in front of another and say, "WHAT'S THIS? What happened?" The response? "Hassan* bite me. Bite my face." Sure enough the child's nose is red and marked up where the other child has attempted to BITE IT OFF. So I must go down to the hall supervisor to send one to the nurse and to hold the other one and speak to his parents. I had just returned and was turned counting the small ones left in the room when I look around and realize Abdulrahman* is missing, and not because his mother has come. So I saw another teacher and said, "I have a runner," and was out the door like a shot after Abdulrahman, who knows better and was just being a Gremlin. I had to chase him across the entire school, running (after being barely able to walk the last 2 days) shouting his name (ABDULRAHMAN! ABDULRAHMAN, STOP! STOP RIGHT NOW! STOP!), until I caught him right at the exit of the grounds. The unearthly noise which then began to issue from his mouth caught the attention of all the parents, children, administrators, dogs in the country, and possibly American sonar equipment in the Gulf region. I had to practically drag him back to the KG1 building and he made me feel like the Big Bad Wolf the whole way. I turned my back for FIVE seconds, and a child has attempted to bite another's face in half. Then I turn for another FIVE seconds to deal with the face bite and one escapes across the school. This is all in addition to the child I have had to quarantine at a table alone, in the corner, unable to get out unless I move the table for him, because he hits indiscriminately and then lies about it.
If you still believe in the inherent goodness of children, raise your hand.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Rain, rain, go away...
Wait...what? The nursery rhymes are getting the better of me clearly. RAIN. RAIN. RAIN. It actually rained today. The first weather I have actually seen in Qatar besides the burning desert sun. The babies were freaking out. First of all, Tuesday is mysteriously their favorite day of the week. No idea why but every day when I say, "What day is it?" they yell "TUESDAY!" Oh, the mysteries of a three year old's mind. And so then when I said "Look! It's raining!" they freaked. Every day I ask them if it's raining. Obviously the answer is always no. So today it was Tuesday AND they got to put the rain cloud on the calendar. SO joyous. We also sang "The 'Eebsy Beebsy' Spider" and they were even more enthusiastic about 'down came the rain' than usual. But they couldn't see the rain... and since I felt like it's a rare enough occurrence here, I wanted them all to see it. So I lifted them all up to see out the window...the shoulder height window. M.I.S.T.A.K.E. Remember that 55 pound child I told you about? There's more than one. No more bicep work outs for a year.
And speaking of that 55 pounder... remember how he was the bane of my class? Well he still struggles with most simple commands like "sit down," BUT for some reason he has become my little police officer. By that I mean yesterday when the bell rang and I said, "Toys away!" I hear a little echo "Toys away! Toys away!" only to see Yahya barreling about waving his finger in children's faces scolding them. Today I looked up twice to see him doing the same and saying "Sit down! Sit down!" to other children. I don't know how I won him over (considering last week I confiscated his shoe until lunchtime because he kept taking it off) but it only adds to the hilarity of my class dynamic so I'll take it.
Fairly incredible change from day one to now, otherwise known as week 8 for those of you not keeping track. Keep this in mind- week 8. We're midway through the week at this point. After my break, I walk back into my class at 9:20 and my supervisor walks in and says, "You have a new student!" Like she's announcing that I've won the Golden Ticket. New. Student. Week. Eight. Seriously? Two months into school...where has she been hiding for two months? Seriously? She has been on no roster, no list. She was registered today. Today. My 29th student. Unfortunately bloodcurdling screams ensued starting at 9:25 when her mother started trying to take her to her seat. After forcibly removing her from her mother's legs and all but shoving the mother out the door, Miss Christine and I endured a solid 20-25 minutes of piercing screams. I decided I could not handle this again, even for one day, so I crouched down to reason with a three year old in the midst of a tantrum. "Anjilena, we are your new friends. There is no crying at school. See everyone else, no one is crying. See Deema? She will be your friend. She does not cry now. She has stopped crying. They are not crying because we have fun at school. Now we will have fun and you see this? (Pointing to schedule where "Home time" is prominently displayed complete with house picture) This is where Mama and Baba will come again, right? Mama and Baba will come at this time" I have no idea what she understood, but no more tears. And fortunately, she is a straight up g. She did two worksheets today and no tears for the rest of the day. All that remains is to decide how I will teach her the alphabet, considering we are now at "Jj." How do you back teach the alphabet? Sigh.
Teaching is even affecting my social group now...last Thursday evening Alex (the other American teacher) and I were coming back from school and there were about eight little boys, whose average age hovered around 10, playing basketball outside of our building. Many administrators and other teachers live in our building with their families and their children told us we are the 'cool teachers' during one memorably (read: frightfully) long bus ride. So we were invited to play basketball with them...obviously we joined. They split us up because we are from America and all Americans are good at basketball (even though we are girls)...HA. Then they taught us how to play football (soccer football, not American football). Much of the basketball game went like this: "Jihad, Jihad! Pass! Hussein! Pass! Miss! Miss! Pass, Miss!" Professionally inappropriate? Perhaps. One of the best times I've had here? Definitely.
And speaking of that 55 pounder... remember how he was the bane of my class? Well he still struggles with most simple commands like "sit down," BUT for some reason he has become my little police officer. By that I mean yesterday when the bell rang and I said, "Toys away!" I hear a little echo "Toys away! Toys away!" only to see Yahya barreling about waving his finger in children's faces scolding them. Today I looked up twice to see him doing the same and saying "Sit down! Sit down!" to other children. I don't know how I won him over (considering last week I confiscated his shoe until lunchtime because he kept taking it off) but it only adds to the hilarity of my class dynamic so I'll take it.
Fairly incredible change from day one to now, otherwise known as week 8 for those of you not keeping track. Keep this in mind- week 8. We're midway through the week at this point. After my break, I walk back into my class at 9:20 and my supervisor walks in and says, "You have a new student!" Like she's announcing that I've won the Golden Ticket. New. Student. Week. Eight. Seriously? Two months into school...where has she been hiding for two months? Seriously? She has been on no roster, no list. She was registered today. Today. My 29th student. Unfortunately bloodcurdling screams ensued starting at 9:25 when her mother started trying to take her to her seat. After forcibly removing her from her mother's legs and all but shoving the mother out the door, Miss Christine and I endured a solid 20-25 minutes of piercing screams. I decided I could not handle this again, even for one day, so I crouched down to reason with a three year old in the midst of a tantrum. "Anjilena, we are your new friends. There is no crying at school. See everyone else, no one is crying. See Deema? She will be your friend. She does not cry now. She has stopped crying. They are not crying because we have fun at school. Now we will have fun and you see this? (Pointing to schedule where "Home time" is prominently displayed complete with house picture) This is where Mama and Baba will come again, right? Mama and Baba will come at this time" I have no idea what she understood, but no more tears. And fortunately, she is a straight up g. She did two worksheets today and no tears for the rest of the day. All that remains is to decide how I will teach her the alphabet, considering we are now at "Jj." How do you back teach the alphabet? Sigh.
Teaching is even affecting my social group now...last Thursday evening Alex (the other American teacher) and I were coming back from school and there were about eight little boys, whose average age hovered around 10, playing basketball outside of our building. Many administrators and other teachers live in our building with their families and their children told us we are the 'cool teachers' during one memorably (read: frightfully) long bus ride. So we were invited to play basketball with them...obviously we joined. They split us up because we are from America and all Americans are good at basketball (even though we are girls)...HA. Then they taught us how to play football (soccer football, not American football). Much of the basketball game went like this: "Jihad, Jihad! Pass! Hussein! Pass! Miss! Miss! Pass, Miss!" Professionally inappropriate? Perhaps. One of the best times I've had here? Definitely.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
The funny thing about self-image...
Is that you might not really have an accurate picture until you see yourself from someone else's perspective. If I ever had any doubts about my reputation as the hippie sunshine fairy teacher, I have absolutely dispelled them in the last week. Last week I substituted a second grade music class. Walking in scared is no way to enter second grade, but in case you don't know, my musical abilities range somewhere above castanets and below the triangle. Fortunately I had just purchased a Disney Sing-a-long for my KG class, so I decided to make quick use of it. I wrote out all the lyrics to Colors of the Wind and had them copy the lyrics and then sing it with the CD. Now combined with my refusal to allow children to play with guns.... I'm somewhat living up to the slightly flightier name that my second graders have christened me - Misty Felice. As if Miss Batty wasn't silly enough, now I'm the flightiest macaroni necklace wearing art and music teacher in the world. Seriously... Misty? Now the only question is, would Misty wear the macaroni necklace or stripper boots?
It's the small things that keep you going...
For example, a box of Hobnobs in the middle of the day. Or seeing the top eight tennis players in the world at the Women's Tennis final. Or seeing Robert DeNiro at the Doha Tribeca Film Festival. Sometimes, a good Hobnob is all you really need. But other times, catching a glimpse of Robert DeNiro at the DTFF is where it's at. Check and check. The last few weeks have been busy as usual with teaching the small ones the next few letters, "f-f-farm!" (Why are we teasing them with farms? That's like saying "s-s-snow!" or "c-c-cloud!" to these children) and "g-g-garden!" (Again, what? Who wrote this textbook?) But my extracurricular life is finally filled as well. Doha is a nice place to live but it's not exactly the busiest city in the world (there is one museum and no library). Generally our fun comes from browsing the shopping malls...how very Gulf of us. But finally, some things to do...all in the same weekend. Rather unfortunate but beggars can't be choosers I suppose, and at this point, I am ready to beg for entertainment. The films showing throughout the weekend were fantastic. I saw four (there were 51 but they all played in four days and generally only after 8 pm and that doesn't fly with my 5 am wake up time sooo) and three of them were incredible. The opening and closing nights were free and opening night was a film called Hors la Loi, (Outside the Law) and was about three Algerian brothers living in Parisian slums during the Algerian Revolution. You would think that after that thing known as my thesis I would never want to hear about Algeria again, but it was just enough time away to LOVE the film. Not exactly brimming with sunshine but very well done.
And sometimes, kids really DO say the funniest things. I took my glasses off to polish them on my shirt last week and suddenly all the kids started laughing hysterically. I put them back on and they go "Off! Off! Better off." THANKS KIDS. Here I was thinking I had no reason to be impressing anyone, and the three year olds are suddenly beauty critics. Today, I wore my contacts just to give them a thrill. It was like my own personal Halloween.
And sometimes, kids really DO say the funniest things. I took my glasses off to polish them on my shirt last week and suddenly all the kids started laughing hysterically. I put them back on and they go "Off! Off! Better off." THANKS KIDS. Here I was thinking I had no reason to be impressing anyone, and the three year olds are suddenly beauty critics. Today, I wore my contacts just to give them a thrill. It was like my own personal Halloween.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Sunday Bloody Sunday
No, this is not me singing along to my favorite U2 song. It is instead an accurate description of my day. Fateful Sundays... the days of P.E., blood, and 'Chase the Teacher."
Today started out well enough - fairly normally if you discount the fact that one girl wet her pants five times. Five. Before 1130 am. How big is your bladder? The size of a corn kernel? No more water for you, Aisha*. In fact by the time swimming came around, we just wrapped her in a towel in her chair because she had gone through all of her clothes and all of the spare clothes for the entire KG1 hallway.
Then came P.E. Now, P.E. is mostly an exercise in patience for me and in laughter for my teaching assistant Miss Christine, namely because the babies (especially the boys) seem to find "Chase the Teacher" to be the best part of the week. It's much easier to have the girls play a game like "Duck, Duck, Goose," which is always an utter failure with the boys. Of course today the girls had swimming, which means that all 19 boys were outside with me plus 2 girls who don't take swimming lessons. We had just walked outside and I looked up to count and make sure none had escaped in transit, only to meet about 30 little eyes. About 15 of the boys were closing in on me, hands raised, with enormous impish grins plastered on their faces.
Now, have you seen Gremlins? You know, the one starring furry mischievous creatures? The most apt way to describe the effect 'Chase the Teacher' has on little boys is to remind you what happens when you feed Gremlins after midnight. They shed all semblance of their adorable selves and wake up as reptilian demons who try to destroy the town. I started running and after a few rounds, they took me down. It finally happened. I was crushed underneath a pile of children and actually knocked to the ground. Cairo, Philadelphia, Frankfurt, of the many cities I have lived and traveled in, the first time I have ever felt in danger of a mob rush was in a Doha schoolyard. I actually toppled over on top of a child - but all was well. The only lasting injury was a minor scrape on one boy's elbow. Now I'm the teacher who sends kids to the nurse for P.E. injuries.
There is an indefinite moratorium on 'Chase the Teacher.'
Today started out well enough - fairly normally if you discount the fact that one girl wet her pants five times. Five. Before 1130 am. How big is your bladder? The size of a corn kernel? No more water for you, Aisha*. In fact by the time swimming came around, we just wrapped her in a towel in her chair because she had gone through all of her clothes and all of the spare clothes for the entire KG1 hallway.
Then came P.E. Now, P.E. is mostly an exercise in patience for me and in laughter for my teaching assistant Miss Christine, namely because the babies (especially the boys) seem to find "Chase the Teacher" to be the best part of the week. It's much easier to have the girls play a game like "Duck, Duck, Goose," which is always an utter failure with the boys. Of course today the girls had swimming, which means that all 19 boys were outside with me plus 2 girls who don't take swimming lessons. We had just walked outside and I looked up to count and make sure none had escaped in transit, only to meet about 30 little eyes. About 15 of the boys were closing in on me, hands raised, with enormous impish grins plastered on their faces.
Now, have you seen Gremlins? You know, the one starring furry mischievous creatures? The most apt way to describe the effect 'Chase the Teacher' has on little boys is to remind you what happens when you feed Gremlins after midnight. They shed all semblance of their adorable selves and wake up as reptilian demons who try to destroy the town. I started running and after a few rounds, they took me down. It finally happened. I was crushed underneath a pile of children and actually knocked to the ground. Cairo, Philadelphia, Frankfurt, of the many cities I have lived and traveled in, the first time I have ever felt in danger of a mob rush was in a Doha schoolyard. I actually toppled over on top of a child - but all was well. The only lasting injury was a minor scrape on one boy's elbow. Now I'm the teacher who sends kids to the nurse for P.E. injuries.
There is an indefinite moratorium on 'Chase the Teacher.'
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Imagine this start to my Thursday...
A young man waits outside a staffroom. He holds a single orange rose. He turns around expectantly every time the door opens. He waits nervously...with his parents. Now notice he is about three feet tall, walks up to you, hands you the flower, and says, "Sowwrrrry, miss." So what warranted this a.m. encounter?
Yesterday, I walk back into class from my lunch break and suddenly all the children are pointing at one child, whom we will call Ahmed, and keep repeating his name. Then I realize our hall supervisor is in the room too. She tells me he was running around the room, standing on the table, waving erasers and markers around in the air and throwing them at other children. So I crouch down in front of his chair to ask him why he did that and tell him not to do it again, and as I say, "Why did you do that?" He shakes his finger in my face and slaps me across the cheek. I had him out into the hallway like a shot. I gave out to him in such a way I doubt ANY child will ever try to pull such crap in my classroom ever again. They just stared at me in silence for the rest of the day. Thus his mother and father waiting in the hallway with a flower for me, making him apologize to me in English. At least they cared. And they apologized too. I have some parents who would do neither.
Then at the end of the day, I was reading The Little Gingerbread Man to them. There was total silence in the room and I had just finished reading "He ran, ran, ran, just as fast as he could but they could not catch him," when I hear one child in the back going, "Teacher, like Ahmed!" I almost DIED trying to contain my laughter. What a genius child.
Some small snippets from the week:
Miss Helen: This is Miss Patricia. Her classroom is next door. Right next door. Her classroom is the naughty classroom. She takes the naughty children. Do you want to go there? Do you?
Me: Do you want to come to my classroom? I can take you if you don't behave for Miss Helen. (Standing in doorway and looking very stern.) I will come back later to make sure you are behaving.
Three teachers have told me my kids are excellent. One came to my door today to borrow a storybook and she told me she is jealous of how good they are and asked me my secret.
The naughty classroom? Now the teaching assistants frequently bring children to my door and hold them up to the glass window. They look inside and I stare them down.
I am the teacher from the black lagoon. Full stop.
Yesterday, I walk back into class from my lunch break and suddenly all the children are pointing at one child, whom we will call Ahmed, and keep repeating his name. Then I realize our hall supervisor is in the room too. She tells me he was running around the room, standing on the table, waving erasers and markers around in the air and throwing them at other children. So I crouch down in front of his chair to ask him why he did that and tell him not to do it again, and as I say, "Why did you do that?" He shakes his finger in my face and slaps me across the cheek. I had him out into the hallway like a shot. I gave out to him in such a way I doubt ANY child will ever try to pull such crap in my classroom ever again. They just stared at me in silence for the rest of the day. Thus his mother and father waiting in the hallway with a flower for me, making him apologize to me in English. At least they cared. And they apologized too. I have some parents who would do neither.
Then at the end of the day, I was reading The Little Gingerbread Man to them. There was total silence in the room and I had just finished reading "He ran, ran, ran, just as fast as he could but they could not catch him," when I hear one child in the back going, "Teacher, like Ahmed!" I almost DIED trying to contain my laughter. What a genius child.
Some small snippets from the week:
Miss Helen: This is Miss Patricia. Her classroom is next door. Right next door. Her classroom is the naughty classroom. She takes the naughty children. Do you want to go there? Do you?
Me: Do you want to come to my classroom? I can take you if you don't behave for Miss Helen. (Standing in doorway and looking very stern.) I will come back later to make sure you are behaving.
Three teachers have told me my kids are excellent. One came to my door today to borrow a storybook and she told me she is jealous of how good they are and asked me my secret.
The naughty classroom? Now the teaching assistants frequently bring children to my door and hold them up to the glass window. They look inside and I stare them down.
I am the teacher from the black lagoon. Full stop.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
The joys of teaching
Yesterday I almost snapped in a child's face. I had to close my eyes and take three breaths before I could speak to him because I was afraid I would break my pointer stick in half right there. Every vision of a teacher driven crazy that I've ever seen was about to come true. We were doing a ridiculous worksheet that was making my blood pressure skyrocket anyway and Yahya, an absolute bull of a child, is tearing around the classroom screaming in Arabic. I question whether he has ever sat in a chair before from his inability to remain in one for more than 45 seconds. He stands up, I pick him up and put him back. He stands up, I pick him up and put him back. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. All day. At least I won't have to join a gym. Yesterday I turn around and he has pulled his chair to the cubbyholes on the side of the class, climbed off the chair, onto the cubbyhole, and is purely suspended from the higher cubbyhole and is pulling down folders and throwing them on the floor. He is also trying to pull the cd player off the shelf. So I have to physically remove him from the shelves and hold him in front of me. And because this is of course the 10 minutes of private hell formally known as 'dismissal,' he goes limp and lays on the floor in front of me so that no children can get out. So today I basically trap him next to me, holding the body of his chair underneath mine with my legs and holding his back so that his chest is pressed against the side of my leg. His mother comes to the door and says, "Oh! Yahya habibi you are sitting next to Teacher!" If only she knew.
Encounters from my day:
Anonymous parent 1: Excuse me, miss, why was my son in the naughty chair yesterday?
Actual Reply: Oh well you know they are boys and they like to play hit each other under the table. I had to separate them all.
*Appropriate reply: Because he's naughty as hell. That's why.
Anonymous parent 2: How is my baby? She had fever all night last night. Is she okay?
Actual Reply: She seemed fine, a little sleepier than usual.
*Appropriate reply: WTF.
Anonymous parent 3: How was she today? Is she good?
Actual Reply: She was fine, better than yesterday!
*Appropriate reply: She flipping whines and screams for you all day, no she's not good! She's a whining baby. She isn't ready for school. I can't even teach over her screaming.
My patience is wearing thin, so these tears better stop. Soon.
Encounters from my day:
Anonymous parent 1: Excuse me, miss, why was my son in the naughty chair yesterday?
Actual Reply: Oh well you know they are boys and they like to play hit each other under the table. I had to separate them all.
*Appropriate reply: Because he's naughty as hell. That's why.
Anonymous parent 2: How is my baby? She had fever all night last night. Is she okay?
Actual Reply: She seemed fine, a little sleepier than usual.
*Appropriate reply: WTF.
Anonymous parent 3: How was she today? Is she good?
Actual Reply: She was fine, better than yesterday!
*Appropriate reply: She flipping whines and screams for you all day, no she's not good! She's a whining baby. She isn't ready for school. I can't even teach over her screaming.
My patience is wearing thin, so these tears better stop. Soon.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Old habits die hard...
Good signs that money has not gotten to my head:
1. For three days after being paid, all I bought was ice cream.
2. When I did get to the store to finally buy a frying pan, which I have been dying to buy since I moved in, I still automatically picked up the cheapest one. However, I did spring for the SECOND cheapest one. Both an acceptable splurge for my first paycheck and an appropriate investment for one year of my life. (How pleased/horrified my mother will be to know I still bought generic everything. Except Oreos. I have some standards after all.)
3. I enjoyed Thursday night's free eleven floor ride in the fancy glass elevator far more than I enjoyed the expensive drinks in the fancy bar downstairs.
1. For three days after being paid, all I bought was ice cream.
2. When I did get to the store to finally buy a frying pan, which I have been dying to buy since I moved in, I still automatically picked up the cheapest one. However, I did spring for the SECOND cheapest one. Both an acceptable splurge for my first paycheck and an appropriate investment for one year of my life. (How pleased/horrified my mother will be to know I still bought generic everything. Except Oreos. I have some standards after all.)
3. I enjoyed Thursday night's free eleven floor ride in the fancy glass elevator far more than I enjoyed the expensive drinks in the fancy bar downstairs.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
In order to combat the negative energy of my last post I'm going list all the nice /funny/excellent things that have happened to me this week:
1. Most importantly, no one pooped on the floor.
2. Payday! More money than I knew what to do with. All I could bring myself to buy was an ice cream.
3. A small child came up to me in the middle of our Math class, wrapped his arms around my legs, buried his face in my skirt, and went "NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM!!!" and then just grinned up at me. It was really hard to scold him or send him back to his chair.
4. Miss Christine, my teaching assistant slash sanity keeper, brought me spring rolls that she made for lunch one day. They were so delicious.
5. I teach second grade art as well and a little boy came up to me, handed me a folded up piece of paper and said, "This is for you." I unfolded it and all it said was "I love you." Pretty smooth for a seven year old.
6. Miss Christine told me she is so happy to be with me in class because she thinks I'm a good teacher.
7. I tried to play "Duck Duck Goose" with them in PE and it was an EPIC failure. Instead we played "Mr Wolf What Time is it?" which was basically Miss Christine bringing them close behind me followed by me turning around and chasing them like Mr. Wolf at 'dinner time.' And really enjoying their little screams and giggles when I did so.
8. Realizing that when I sing the Wheels on the Bus, even the ones who don't speak or understand English know which hand motions go with which lyrics. I think I sing that song approximately 13 times per day.
9. Walking around in the mall on Thursday, waiting for the bank to open so I could cash my check, seeing one of my students in the food court with her mom. She waved, hid behind her mother, came up to me and said "Mees Pat-ree-see-a," and ran back to her mom.
10. A small child coming up to me and kissing me good-bye at the end of the day.
11. Thursday night we went to the ritziest place I have ever been in my whole life. We went to a bar at the Doha Sheraton just for fun. We walked in and there were red carpets, gold chandeliers, and glass elevators. We rode it all the way up to the eleventh floor. Just because. Even though we were going to the basement.
12. Wednesday I set up all these shapes on the chalkboard ledge and told them they had to come up and choose the red one. I turned around to get something and there are suddenly cascades of hysterical laughter. I turned back around and one yellow oval had fallen over on its side. I picked it up, put it back, and much to their great enjoyment, it fell directly over. They were practically screaming with laughter and kept trying to blow it over from their seats.
The most important thing I think I realized last week, in the midst of wiping copious amounts of snot and blood off of a little girl was that I'm making this up as I go and that's alright. Some days I have to literally climb under the desk to get and keep their attention because they think I live at school and I tell them I'm going to sleep. (My supervisor walked in at this moment, by the way). Some days I have to sing the Hokey Pokey in front of the George Clooney look-a-like disciplinarian. Some days they will all yell RED!!! when I hold up something red and ask what color it is. But then other days they will yell NO! when I hold up the same thing and ask, "Is this red?"
I realized I'm working with limited knowledge, experience (obviously) and materials. So I'm doing what I can with what I have. There are actually no supplies for art class. We have 24 colored pencils for 28 kids, so I can't even give each kid 2 colors to do their art projects with. I can't even give them all ONE at a time. (I bought some colored pencils today so that won't happen next week.) For my second grade art class, there is nothing. I had only computer paper and their pencils. So, last week we sang the Bare Necessities from the Jungle Book and they drew that, but this week, I had them draw the whole jungle. I was actually very impressed by their jungle drawing skills. They were asking me to draw all of these animals on the board. And if they could draw rainbows, and Spongebob. Sure, why not kid? If you can tell me why Spongebob is in the jungle, you can put him in the jungle. And he did. So I let him.
I think making it up as I go is working out alright so far. Even with vomit, bloody noses, and wet pants as the extracurricular activities. Even though I definitely stand at the board and have moments of "Whaaaaat the frick do I do now?"every now and again. Rather often actually.
Miss Batty
1. Most importantly, no one pooped on the floor.
2. Payday! More money than I knew what to do with. All I could bring myself to buy was an ice cream.
3. A small child came up to me in the middle of our Math class, wrapped his arms around my legs, buried his face in my skirt, and went "NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM!!!" and then just grinned up at me. It was really hard to scold him or send him back to his chair.
4. Miss Christine, my teaching assistant slash sanity keeper, brought me spring rolls that she made for lunch one day. They were so delicious.
5. I teach second grade art as well and a little boy came up to me, handed me a folded up piece of paper and said, "This is for you." I unfolded it and all it said was "I love you." Pretty smooth for a seven year old.
6. Miss Christine told me she is so happy to be with me in class because she thinks I'm a good teacher.
7. I tried to play "Duck Duck Goose" with them in PE and it was an EPIC failure. Instead we played "Mr Wolf What Time is it?" which was basically Miss Christine bringing them close behind me followed by me turning around and chasing them like Mr. Wolf at 'dinner time.' And really enjoying their little screams and giggles when I did so.
8. Realizing that when I sing the Wheels on the Bus, even the ones who don't speak or understand English know which hand motions go with which lyrics. I think I sing that song approximately 13 times per day.
9. Walking around in the mall on Thursday, waiting for the bank to open so I could cash my check, seeing one of my students in the food court with her mom. She waved, hid behind her mother, came up to me and said "Mees Pat-ree-see-a," and ran back to her mom.
10. A small child coming up to me and kissing me good-bye at the end of the day.
11. Thursday night we went to the ritziest place I have ever been in my whole life. We went to a bar at the Doha Sheraton just for fun. We walked in and there were red carpets, gold chandeliers, and glass elevators. We rode it all the way up to the eleventh floor. Just because. Even though we were going to the basement.
12. Wednesday I set up all these shapes on the chalkboard ledge and told them they had to come up and choose the red one. I turned around to get something and there are suddenly cascades of hysterical laughter. I turned back around and one yellow oval had fallen over on its side. I picked it up, put it back, and much to their great enjoyment, it fell directly over. They were practically screaming with laughter and kept trying to blow it over from their seats.
The most important thing I think I realized last week, in the midst of wiping copious amounts of snot and blood off of a little girl was that I'm making this up as I go and that's alright. Some days I have to literally climb under the desk to get and keep their attention because they think I live at school and I tell them I'm going to sleep. (My supervisor walked in at this moment, by the way). Some days I have to sing the Hokey Pokey in front of the George Clooney look-a-like disciplinarian. Some days they will all yell RED!!! when I hold up something red and ask what color it is. But then other days they will yell NO! when I hold up the same thing and ask, "Is this red?"
I realized I'm working with limited knowledge, experience (obviously) and materials. So I'm doing what I can with what I have. There are actually no supplies for art class. We have 24 colored pencils for 28 kids, so I can't even give each kid 2 colors to do their art projects with. I can't even give them all ONE at a time. (I bought some colored pencils today so that won't happen next week.) For my second grade art class, there is nothing. I had only computer paper and their pencils. So, last week we sang the Bare Necessities from the Jungle Book and they drew that, but this week, I had them draw the whole jungle. I was actually very impressed by their jungle drawing skills. They were asking me to draw all of these animals on the board. And if they could draw rainbows, and Spongebob. Sure, why not kid? If you can tell me why Spongebob is in the jungle, you can put him in the jungle. And he did. So I let him.
I think making it up as I go is working out alright so far. Even with vomit, bloody noses, and wet pants as the extracurricular activities. Even though I definitely stand at the board and have moments of "Whaaaaat the frick do I do now?"every now and again. Rather often actually.
Miss Batty
Sunday, September 26, 2010
If I hadn't laughed I would have cried...
3:30 pm, City Center Mall, Doha, Qatar
I burst out laughing as I walked down the second floor of the mall outside a swanky jewelry shop. Laughing seemingly at nothing, the other teachers turned around, visibly astonished at my slight break into insanity. So let's rewind.
1:40 pm, International School, Doha
In the midst of trying to teach a lesson over the two boys who had been screaming all day, two parents walk up to the door to peek in at their children. Hint to parents and future parents: do not 'check up' on your three year old when you abandon them at school from 7 am until 2 pm. During the first two weeks. Just don't. Here is what happens as a result: your previously calmly engaged child suddenly turns absolutely raving at the sight of you and your subsequent disappearance, beginning to truly believe you have abandoned them to my care forever, much to their (and my) chagrin. Then, at least two other children remember how much they miss Mama and Baba and will begin to wail as well. Leaving me to teach another forty minutes over screaming three year olds. Picture five children screaming and wailing, two stamping their feet all around their chairs, one about to make himself sick from his tears, and another tearing about the place in his attempt to escape (actually nearly succeeding once). Now look up to the front of the classroom and see Maria sobbing so hard she has actually given herself a bloody nose. Not just a light trickle. We're talking full blown river streaming down her face - into her mouth, all over her (white) shirt, the table, and the floor. At this point I abandon all pretenses of teaching and dash to Maria with a box of tissues, trying to keep her from swallowing the blood and thus vomiting (which if you know me, you know I will avoid at all costs). Thinking I'm finished? False. There is more. As this is going on, a little boy shits all over the floor of the bathroom at the back of my room.
So to recap, let's do a multiple choice, since I am, after all, a teacher, right?
Today in KG1B:
A. A child cried herself into a nosebleed.
B. A child crapped all over himself and the bathroom.
C. Neither.
D. Both.
Sadly I don't think I need to repeat the answer. Did I mention this is occurring minutes before I need to put three children to the bus and greet parents at the door?
Back to the mall. If I hadn't laughed, I think I actually would have cried. I suppose I should see that as a testament to my state of mind that I chose the former. Looking for the positive.
Miss Batty
I burst out laughing as I walked down the second floor of the mall outside a swanky jewelry shop. Laughing seemingly at nothing, the other teachers turned around, visibly astonished at my slight break into insanity. So let's rewind.
1:40 pm, International School, Doha
In the midst of trying to teach a lesson over the two boys who had been screaming all day, two parents walk up to the door to peek in at their children. Hint to parents and future parents: do not 'check up' on your three year old when you abandon them at school from 7 am until 2 pm. During the first two weeks. Just don't. Here is what happens as a result: your previously calmly engaged child suddenly turns absolutely raving at the sight of you and your subsequent disappearance, beginning to truly believe you have abandoned them to my care forever, much to their (and my) chagrin. Then, at least two other children remember how much they miss Mama and Baba and will begin to wail as well. Leaving me to teach another forty minutes over screaming three year olds. Picture five children screaming and wailing, two stamping their feet all around their chairs, one about to make himself sick from his tears, and another tearing about the place in his attempt to escape (actually nearly succeeding once). Now look up to the front of the classroom and see Maria sobbing so hard she has actually given herself a bloody nose. Not just a light trickle. We're talking full blown river streaming down her face - into her mouth, all over her (white) shirt, the table, and the floor. At this point I abandon all pretenses of teaching and dash to Maria with a box of tissues, trying to keep her from swallowing the blood and thus vomiting (which if you know me, you know I will avoid at all costs). Thinking I'm finished? False. There is more. As this is going on, a little boy shits all over the floor of the bathroom at the back of my room.
So to recap, let's do a multiple choice, since I am, after all, a teacher, right?
Today in KG1B:
A. A child cried herself into a nosebleed.
B. A child crapped all over himself and the bathroom.
C. Neither.
D. Both.
Sadly I don't think I need to repeat the answer. Did I mention this is occurring minutes before I need to put three children to the bus and greet parents at the door?
Back to the mall. If I hadn't laughed, I think I actually would have cried. I suppose I should see that as a testament to my state of mind that I chose the former. Looking for the positive.
Miss Batty
Thursday, September 23, 2010
I've officially survived my first week as a teacher...
It wasn't easy. There were good moments and bad, nice ones and ugly ones, and loud ones and...louder ones. Five days, many tantrums, four more vomits from Atilla (his count was six times in two days), a lot of pee, and so much snot on my pants, I am still alive and officially finished with my first week in the classroom. And I knew all of their names by 9 am on Sunday because I was yelling them so frequently.
Of the 28, most are fairly settled. One has missed the entire first week, one showed up yesterday and threw the tantrum to end all tantrums when her father walked away. As in when I picked her up to put her in her seat, both of her legs started flailing around on the floor, stomping away. Which of course started all of the other ones crying. However, I have two little boys who have cried, literally non-stop, since Sunday morning at 7 am. For five days. Not just crying. Screaming. But there have been fun moments too. Probably mostly fun for them because they involve me running around like an absolute absurdity. I feel like I'm no longer fully human. Take Tuesday, the worst morning by far for screaming. I'm standing in the middle of the room, trying everything I can think of to make them stop screaming because I'm ready to run out of the classroom myself. Finally I hit on the Hokey Pokey, but most of them are still screaming and as I'm saying "and you turn yourself about," I turn around and make eye contact with the aforementioned highly attractive Mr. Abdulkadir watching from the hallway, smiling away, as I simultaneously make a fool of myself and somehow induce them to scream louder.
There is also a boy who is an absolute bull. He must weigh 55 pounds and will not remain in his seat for longer than 45 seconds. And has not a word of English. So I must pick him up, carry him to his seat, and put him down. I take three steps and he is out like a shot again. Today I was teaching "Phonics" (A-A- APPLE! A-A-APRICOT!) and I actually had to stand in front of him so that when he stood up, I could put him back in his seat. So much for needing a gym membership. One day he WILL knock me over as he tears around the classroom "looking for tissues," as is his new ploy to make me think he has a legitimate reason for running about the place.
I was really surprised at how naturally some things came to me this week...but then I was observed by my department supervisor and of course it was at a moment of utter chaos. I had two children SCREAMING, the bull tearing about, and we were trying to color in a worksheet that was 'color the apple red' with 9 red colored pencils. Nine. For 28 three year olds. We are so undersupplied in KG it's ridiculous. I actually had only 5 and I had to borrow from the class next door. So of course there was chaos because I could only have two tables coloring at a time. Shocking. So when I finally got that under control, I decided to redeem myself with their favorite game - find the red. (One red circle is basically our math lesson for September.) And all week they loved to yell "RED!!!! Teacher! Teacher! It is RED!!!!!!" whenever I ask, "Is this red?!" Yet this time, when I hold up a red paddle and say "Is this red?" don't the little demons yell out "NO!!!" It is like they knew.
I had a great moment today though...a child called me Miss Bat. All week it has been variants of "Teacher!" or "Miss!" or tugging at my skirt or even "Hey!" from one boy. (Which I put a stop to very quickly.) But all of a sudden I hear a tiny voice going "Miss Bat" this afternoon. I looked down and the smallest little thing looking up at me, smiling. I look down and said, "Did you say Miss Bat?" He nods. "Who is Miss Bat?" And he smiles, points at me and goes "You!"
I knew there would be difficulty with my name and knew Miss Bat (or Miss Batty) would be the result since B is the standard pronunciation for all words beginning with P (e.g. the "Tenants only- No Barking" sign outside my building). What I didn't know was how much I would like it.
Exhausted, but looking forward to fully fulfilling the role of Miss Batty and all that it implies.
Of the 28, most are fairly settled. One has missed the entire first week, one showed up yesterday and threw the tantrum to end all tantrums when her father walked away. As in when I picked her up to put her in her seat, both of her legs started flailing around on the floor, stomping away. Which of course started all of the other ones crying. However, I have two little boys who have cried, literally non-stop, since Sunday morning at 7 am. For five days. Not just crying. Screaming. But there have been fun moments too. Probably mostly fun for them because they involve me running around like an absolute absurdity. I feel like I'm no longer fully human. Take Tuesday, the worst morning by far for screaming. I'm standing in the middle of the room, trying everything I can think of to make them stop screaming because I'm ready to run out of the classroom myself. Finally I hit on the Hokey Pokey, but most of them are still screaming and as I'm saying "and you turn yourself about," I turn around and make eye contact with the aforementioned highly attractive Mr. Abdulkadir watching from the hallway, smiling away, as I simultaneously make a fool of myself and somehow induce them to scream louder.
There is also a boy who is an absolute bull. He must weigh 55 pounds and will not remain in his seat for longer than 45 seconds. And has not a word of English. So I must pick him up, carry him to his seat, and put him down. I take three steps and he is out like a shot again. Today I was teaching "Phonics" (A-A- APPLE! A-A-APRICOT!) and I actually had to stand in front of him so that when he stood up, I could put him back in his seat. So much for needing a gym membership. One day he WILL knock me over as he tears around the classroom "looking for tissues," as is his new ploy to make me think he has a legitimate reason for running about the place.
I was really surprised at how naturally some things came to me this week...but then I was observed by my department supervisor and of course it was at a moment of utter chaos. I had two children SCREAMING, the bull tearing about, and we were trying to color in a worksheet that was 'color the apple red' with 9 red colored pencils. Nine. For 28 three year olds. We are so undersupplied in KG it's ridiculous. I actually had only 5 and I had to borrow from the class next door. So of course there was chaos because I could only have two tables coloring at a time. Shocking. So when I finally got that under control, I decided to redeem myself with their favorite game - find the red. (One red circle is basically our math lesson for September.) And all week they loved to yell "RED!!!! Teacher! Teacher! It is RED!!!!!!" whenever I ask, "Is this red?!" Yet this time, when I hold up a red paddle and say "Is this red?" don't the little demons yell out "NO!!!" It is like they knew.
I had a great moment today though...a child called me Miss Bat. All week it has been variants of "Teacher!" or "Miss!" or tugging at my skirt or even "Hey!" from one boy. (Which I put a stop to very quickly.) But all of a sudden I hear a tiny voice going "Miss Bat" this afternoon. I looked down and the smallest little thing looking up at me, smiling. I look down and said, "Did you say Miss Bat?" He nods. "Who is Miss Bat?" And he smiles, points at me and goes "You!"
I knew there would be difficulty with my name and knew Miss Bat (or Miss Batty) would be the result since B is the standard pronunciation for all words beginning with P (e.g. the "Tenants only- No Barking" sign outside my building). What I didn't know was how much I would like it.
Exhausted, but looking forward to fully fulfilling the role of Miss Batty and all that it implies.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
First day of school!
Ho.Ly. God. Talk about trial by fire...today was something else entirely. Starting off the day sitting in Doha traffic and arriving at school at 6:58 for my 7 am start time was along the lines of a back up at the Salem Witch trials. I walked into my classroom and it was filled with children and parents, some ok, some already crying. An administrator had to come into my classroom and kick out parents who were refusing to leave. So Mr. Abdulkadir was basically my hero today. It was horrible watching all the kids screaming because their parents were leaving, but by 830 almost everyone was quiet except two or three kids sobbing away. Surprise - lulling me into a false sense of safety. Little tricksters. I was blowing bubbles, singing, dancing, charading, etc. Never did I ever think I would mime "I'm a Little Teapot" in front of 25 children who barely understand English. But I did. Along with "Old MacDonald," "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star," and even more frighteningly "Frere Jacques." Where that popped into my head from I have no idea. I walked around the room going "chhchhchhchhhchhhchh" to form a line. Surprisingly they all followed. New favorite activity? Seems to be.
Today by the numbers:
7 children peed their pants
9 children fell asleep at various times
2 children hit me
2 children tried to beat down the door
1 child sustained tears from 9:30 until he left at 2:10
1 child laid on the floor the entire day
1 child vomited. Twice.
The vomiter...Atilla. Karmic punishment? Perhaps.
From 1:30 on there were 40 minutes of uninterrupted screaming. Actual screaming. Not tears, not whimpers, not crying. Screaming. "Mama! Baba!" I had to stand in front of the door so that Atilla and his right hand man could not open the door and escape (as was tried). At one point I looked up and 23 of the 25 children in the class were screaming. I almost laughed. Then I almost cried. I tried singing at this point...epic fail. I think it made some of them scream louder.
Then came the disaster of dismissal. I'll set the scene: 23 children are still screeching "Mama! Baba!" in decibels heard only by the desert bats and about 50 parents, drivers, and nannies are lining up outside listening to my out of control horde. So at 2:10 I take my chair (which I realize I will never sit in except these five minutes of insanity per day) and put it in front of the door. I open the door and have to put my chair in front of the door with my legs up against the bookshelves across from me so the children can not just escape into the crowd of parents in the hall. I still lost two underneath the seat. They will not best me tomorrow. Personal goal. After I walked back from dropping the last five (still screaming) children to the late room, I actually felt physically ill. Too bad I won't be able to buy a bottle of wine until November.
Ah well, tomorrow is another day.
Today by the numbers:
7 children peed their pants
9 children fell asleep at various times
2 children hit me
2 children tried to beat down the door
1 child sustained tears from 9:30 until he left at 2:10
1 child laid on the floor the entire day
1 child vomited. Twice.
The vomiter...Atilla. Karmic punishment? Perhaps.
From 1:30 on there were 40 minutes of uninterrupted screaming. Actual screaming. Not tears, not whimpers, not crying. Screaming. "Mama! Baba!" I had to stand in front of the door so that Atilla and his right hand man could not open the door and escape (as was tried). At one point I looked up and 23 of the 25 children in the class were screaming. I almost laughed. Then I almost cried. I tried singing at this point...epic fail. I think it made some of them scream louder.
Then came the disaster of dismissal. I'll set the scene: 23 children are still screeching "Mama! Baba!" in decibels heard only by the desert bats and about 50 parents, drivers, and nannies are lining up outside listening to my out of control horde. So at 2:10 I take my chair (which I realize I will never sit in except these five minutes of insanity per day) and put it in front of the door. I open the door and have to put my chair in front of the door with my legs up against the bookshelves across from me so the children can not just escape into the crowd of parents in the hall. I still lost two underneath the seat. They will not best me tomorrow. Personal goal. After I walked back from dropping the last five (still screaming) children to the late room, I actually felt physically ill. Too bad I won't be able to buy a bottle of wine until November.
Ah well, tomorrow is another day.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Trial by fire...
This past week has been a bit of a whirlwind. I made quite the international meal this week. I had cooked a pasta casserole with Pakistani beef, cheese from Saudi Arabia, peppers from India, and carrots from Australia. Truly international. It took some time to get over the idea of using beef from Pakistan. I don't know why...it took me about three weeks to buy meat here. Completely a mental thing.
Also, Thursday was my first day as a teacher! I had a second grade art class with 31 students. It was basically an hour of controlled chaos. Semi-controlled chaos. I decided to do a 'time capsule' project (close shave to calling it a 'time-turner' - Harry Potter is overinfluencing my life) with them. I had them trace their hands, color them, cut them out, and write their age, favorite color, and favorite game on the back. I had some children do it quite lovely, others as I would have expected from 6 year olds, and others who completely destroyed theirs (mostly chopped off the fingers). One little boy started crying because he ruined his so I gave him a second sheet and told him to make a new one...and he mangled that too. Epic fail. I didn't know what to do. I also had to make a rule: Only one pair of scissors per table at a time. There was a mini scissor war between two boys and I had to whip out my serious teacher voice. "I NEVER want to see that again or we will never do another fun project in this class." Everyone listened so I think they were scared.
Snippets of their comments:
Miss, I like your dress.
Miss, you are very kind.
Miss, I like Tae Kwan Do.
Miss, I have a yellow belt in Karate.
Miss, my birthday is 22 September. I will be six.
I have also learned that stickers are absolute MAGIC in the classroom. They were starting to run riot at the end of the lesson so I flicked the lights and said, "If everyone is cleaned up, sitting in their seats, and very quiet until the Arabic teacher comes I will give you each a sticker."
There was instant and lasting silence. Why? Not sure. Will I be repeating that? Yes.
Tomorrow the babies arrive.
Also, Thursday was my first day as a teacher! I had a second grade art class with 31 students. It was basically an hour of controlled chaos. Semi-controlled chaos. I decided to do a 'time capsule' project (close shave to calling it a 'time-turner' - Harry Potter is overinfluencing my life) with them. I had them trace their hands, color them, cut them out, and write their age, favorite color, and favorite game on the back. I had some children do it quite lovely, others as I would have expected from 6 year olds, and others who completely destroyed theirs (mostly chopped off the fingers). One little boy started crying because he ruined his so I gave him a second sheet and told him to make a new one...and he mangled that too. Epic fail. I didn't know what to do. I also had to make a rule: Only one pair of scissors per table at a time. There was a mini scissor war between two boys and I had to whip out my serious teacher voice. "I NEVER want to see that again or we will never do another fun project in this class." Everyone listened so I think they were scared.
Snippets of their comments:
Miss, I like your dress.
Miss, you are very kind.
Miss, I like Tae Kwan Do.
Miss, I have a yellow belt in Karate.
Miss, my birthday is 22 September. I will be six.
I have also learned that stickers are absolute MAGIC in the classroom. They were starting to run riot at the end of the lesson so I flicked the lights and said, "If everyone is cleaned up, sitting in their seats, and very quiet until the Arabic teacher comes I will give you each a sticker."
There was instant and lasting silence. Why? Not sure. Will I be repeating that? Yes.
Tomorrow the babies arrive.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Some things I never dreamed I would do (and others I hoped I wouldn't)
1. Cleaning up the cockroach cemetery under my kitchen counters. And my washer. And my oven.
2. Swimming in the Persian/Arabian Gulf.
3. Being the only woman on a street full of 2000 plus men looking for a restaurant that seemingly disappeared.
4. Whilst looking more disheveled than I ever have in my life, accidentally wandering into a posh Indian restaurant instead after having traipsed across 20 minutes of sandy road. The kind of posh where the waiters put your napkin on your lap for you.
5. Accidentally drinking the bowl of hot water and lemon the waiter brought after our meal. Only to have him stop us and tell us that was to wash our hands in.
6. Witnessing a chimney fire from my rooftop.
It's always an adventure.
2. Swimming in the Persian/Arabian Gulf.
3. Being the only woman on a street full of 2000 plus men looking for a restaurant that seemingly disappeared.
4. Whilst looking more disheveled than I ever have in my life, accidentally wandering into a posh Indian restaurant instead after having traipsed across 20 minutes of sandy road. The kind of posh where the waiters put your napkin on your lap for you.
5. Accidentally drinking the bowl of hot water and lemon the waiter brought after our meal. Only to have him stop us and tell us that was to wash our hands in.
6. Witnessing a chimney fire from my rooftop.
It's always an adventure.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Talk about a new identity...
Not only am I Miss DeFelice from here on out, I am also now a recruit for Gaelic Football. My housemate and new coworkers are all Irish and have somewhat adopted me. Little do they know my track record with organized sports. It's a combination of American football and soccer...HA. Apparently I should be 'class' at it based on the skills I have demonstrated in 'training' last week. I can already feel most of their Irishisms working their way into my English - mainly adjectives like 'class' and 'grand' but also saying things like 'shop' and 'bin' instead of store and trash can.
I have also received a preliminary class list: 19 boys, 8 girls, and one mysteriously gendered child named Atilla. Let's hope that one fails to live up to its namesake. I love my room- mostly purple and I'm going with yellow and orange decorative posters to make my room the quirky hall of sunshine on the floor. I have five small tables with six baby seats each. I can already tell what game we'll be playing this year, considering sheer numbers: How many three year old boys can sit at one table before Miss DeFelice starts crying in class? I have a feeling it will be every day (every hour?) for the first month or so.
I have also received a preliminary class list: 19 boys, 8 girls, and one mysteriously gendered child named Atilla. Let's hope that one fails to live up to its namesake. I love my room- mostly purple and I'm going with yellow and orange decorative posters to make my room the quirky hall of sunshine on the floor. I have five small tables with six baby seats each. I can already tell what game we'll be playing this year, considering sheer numbers: How many three year old boys can sit at one table before Miss DeFelice starts crying in class? I have a feeling it will be every day (every hour?) for the first month or so.
Friday, September 3, 2010
New Identities
I wonder how long it will take to get used to being Miss DeFelice. Odds are a long time. Today was my first day off since training started- and I did grown up things like go to the grocery store. Last week was mostly administrative details but this week is a lot of specialized training to our departments and for me that means decorating my classroom! I'm now Miss DeFelice in KG1B, thank you very much. Our supervisor told us we could choose whether we wanted to use first names or last names, but I thought it be easier than Patricia since it's at least somewhat phonetic and includes sounds in their repertoire, unlike Patricia. Since more than half of them will have never heard any English at all, why confuse them with a letter (P) that doesn't even exist in their mind? So Miss DeFelice I am.
When I walked into my classroom I felt like I was surveying a dollhouse. Their chairs are so small the backs barely come up to my knees. Let's face it - I'm a clumsy being and those chairs are right at foot level. I keep finding myself daydreaming into classroom displays, like frogs outside the door on my welcome board. With corny, teachery things like "Let's Jump into KG1!". And ways to incorporate the letter "B"into the classroom, since we're 1B, like having each table have an animal, like the bears, birds, bugs, etc. I'm frightening myself with my enthusiasm for this but let's hope the influx of creativity stays switched on, considering I'm teaching two separate art classes every week. I'll add some pictures tomorrow for the before and after effects.
When I walked into my classroom I felt like I was surveying a dollhouse. Their chairs are so small the backs barely come up to my knees. Let's face it - I'm a clumsy being and those chairs are right at foot level. I keep finding myself daydreaming into classroom displays, like frogs outside the door on my welcome board. With corny, teachery things like "Let's Jump into KG1!". And ways to incorporate the letter "B"into the classroom, since we're 1B, like having each table have an animal, like the bears, birds, bugs, etc. I'm frightening myself with my enthusiasm for this but let's hope the influx of creativity stays switched on, considering I'm teaching two separate art classes every week. I'll add some pictures tomorrow for the before and after effects.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Sometimes it feels as though I've moved to Dublin...
rather than Doha. So many of my colleagues are Irish that I've spent more of my days listening to a brogue than any Arabic. Yet being here for the last five days and knowing some Arabic has given me:
1. the frightening role of designated translator at all times
2. the realization of how little useful Arabic I remember, unless one of us needs to visit the embassy or read a UN brief and
3. free pastries!
We went into a pastry shop last night and I said thank you in Arabic and the shopkeeper proceeded to strike up a conversation with me and was so surprised and pleased that he filled up a box of pastries for me for free. Thanks Egypt! I'll obviously be a frequent customer there. DANGER considering it's only about 3 blocks away.
First day of teacher training today. I felt like an official real adult. I had two binders and a name tag (complete with lanyard) and was wearing boring teacher clothes and pumps. I have never felt so like a teacher in my whole life. More news: I'm teaching KG1 aka 3 and 4 year olds. Twenty-eight of them. Apparently kindergarten here is quite a broad range. I'm also teaching them PE, Music and Art. As well as one section of KG2 Art. Excuse me, music? These poor children are going to need remedial music lessons when I'm finished with them. Singing happy birthday in our family is kind of a plug-your-ears-grin-and-bear-it moment. Kind of excited to be that wacky kindergarten art teacher though. Perhaps there my penchant for Crayola inspired outfits will finally pass unnoticed. Or even be appreciated.
1. the frightening role of designated translator at all times
2. the realization of how little useful Arabic I remember, unless one of us needs to visit the embassy or read a UN brief and
3. free pastries!
We went into a pastry shop last night and I said thank you in Arabic and the shopkeeper proceeded to strike up a conversation with me and was so surprised and pleased that he filled up a box of pastries for me for free. Thanks Egypt! I'll obviously be a frequent customer there. DANGER considering it's only about 3 blocks away.
First day of teacher training today. I felt like an official real adult. I had two binders and a name tag (complete with lanyard) and was wearing boring teacher clothes and pumps. I have never felt so like a teacher in my whole life. More news: I'm teaching KG1 aka 3 and 4 year olds. Twenty-eight of them. Apparently kindergarten here is quite a broad range. I'm also teaching them PE, Music and Art. As well as one section of KG2 Art. Excuse me, music? These poor children are going to need remedial music lessons when I'm finished with them. Singing happy birthday in our family is kind of a plug-your-ears-grin-and-bear-it moment. Kind of excited to be that wacky kindergarten art teacher though. Perhaps there my penchant for Crayola inspired outfits will finally pass unnoticed. Or even be appreciated.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
It's amazing how much faith I put into this experience without even realizing it. I arrived at the airport and was looking for people from the school (having just met the one other teacher on my flight) when we finally found them. There were two men with a (handprinted) sign and when we went outside they told us we had to take separate cars because we were living in separate places. Maybe because I just desperately needed my traveling to be at an end but I also really had nothing but to trust this man. And I didn't even have a second thought getting into his car by myself. (Well that's not entirely true - I did have a second thought of being trafficked, courtesy of my sister and too much television but not quite strong enough to stop me.) Fortunately my faith was rewarded and I was delivered to my apartment (with all of my luggage despite three different planes and two airlines!) safely and completely intact. I'm still getting settled into my apartment but I seem to be in a busy section of the city with many shops and markets and lots of people. Some things to get used to: no apparent shower curtain, a hole in my bathroom floor covered by a bowl, the cats wandering the hallway, oh, and the 110 degree heat during Ramadan.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Friday, August 20, 2010
Pre-journey jitters...
...are the worst but are apparently one thing I share with my favorite literary heroine. You know how you can read a book eight times (do other people do this? no? just me?) and a passage will mean nothing and suddenly you read the book again and feel like you've never seen those exact words before? Every summer I read Jane Eyre and this time I was stuck on this passage:
"It is a very strange sensation to inexperienced youth to feel itself quite alone in the world, cut adrift from every connexion, uncertain whether the port to which it is bound can be reached, and prevented by many impediments from returning to that it has quitted. The charm of adventure sweetens that sensation, the glow of pride warms it: but then the throb of fear disturbs it..."
Granted I begin rather more fortunately than Jane, being not quite completely adrift from every connection, but it remains that this is more often than not where I have found myself floating in recent weeks. Some of you know how the uncertainties still abound: What exactly is my curriculum? Just where is my apartment precisely? How valid is a visa that you receive via email? Am I really about to be the TEACHER? These and various other un-realities are only contributing to the nagging throb of fear whispering "Surprise! We don't really have a job for you" - a phone call/message I think I will keep expecting to receive until I pass through customs and am finally in my (mysteriously located) apartment (and classroom) in Doha.
So thank you for capturing the essence of this moment best, Charlotte Bronte.
**I hope I haven't bored you and thanks for letting me pretend people besides Peter, Dominica, and my mom will be reading this site. I felt awkward writing this a. in general and b. before I left but would have felt more awkward sending out an empty blog website to people and then jumping into one once I arrived...so welcome to the circle of awkward that characterizes my life. Consider yourself privy to this final stateside moment of it for quite some time.
"It is a very strange sensation to inexperienced youth to feel itself quite alone in the world, cut adrift from every connexion, uncertain whether the port to which it is bound can be reached, and prevented by many impediments from returning to that it has quitted. The charm of adventure sweetens that sensation, the glow of pride warms it: but then the throb of fear disturbs it..."
Granted I begin rather more fortunately than Jane, being not quite completely adrift from every connection, but it remains that this is more often than not where I have found myself floating in recent weeks. Some of you know how the uncertainties still abound: What exactly is my curriculum? Just where is my apartment precisely? How valid is a visa that you receive via email? Am I really about to be the TEACHER? These and various other un-realities are only contributing to the nagging throb of fear whispering "Surprise! We don't really have a job for you" - a phone call/message I think I will keep expecting to receive until I pass through customs and am finally in my (mysteriously located) apartment (and classroom) in Doha.
So thank you for capturing the essence of this moment best, Charlotte Bronte.
**I hope I haven't bored you and thanks for letting me pretend people besides Peter, Dominica, and my mom will be reading this site. I felt awkward writing this a. in general and b. before I left but would have felt more awkward sending out an empty blog website to people and then jumping into one once I arrived...so welcome to the circle of awkward that characterizes my life. Consider yourself privy to this final stateside moment of it for quite some time.
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