Day 2, 3 AND 6
While in Hoi An, Vietnam, we worked on a few projects with a local artist, Mr. Thẫng. Despite our language differences (his English is much better than my non-existent Vietnamese), we were able to communicate quite well. Mr. Thẫng creates art out of found objects, many of them items he has gathered off the beach. He is truly able to see how one man's garbage can be another man's treasure. We were initially tasked with decorating a swing set he had built (but not yet assembled) for a local school. .
As Kyle, Francita and I thought about design ideas, I wanted to be sure whatever we came up was culturally relevant. I noticed a small weed growing out from under Mr. Thẫng's workshop, a small purple flower. Francita talked about how Hoi An used to be a fishing village. We decided on a theme of sea, earth and sky, Kyle contributing the clouds!
We designed and painted the upright supports as well as the tires and wood that would be used for the swing's seats. The next day, we worked with a local youth agency to dig holes, make mortar and assemble the swing set. As the students were leaving for the day we were just finishing up. They couldn't wait to try it!
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Another project we tackled with Mr. Thẫng was one of a series of beach fish he makes. Inspired by similar projects, our coordinator, Bella and Mr. Thẫng came up with the idea to build four fish to help clean up local beaches. The idea is that these fish are placed on the beach where visitors can place their plastic, recyclable bottles. He builds a trap door at the bottom to allow for easy collection by anyone willing to take the bottles to a recycler. It was fun to work with him and realize how much thought he puts into his designs. For instance, the mouth is designed that only smaller items like the bottles can be placed in the fish. Each fish is build to withstand beach conditions for four years. He welds the basic frame and paints it. With the help of GlobeAware volunteers like us, he adds reclaimed fish netting to hold the bottles inside the frame. Then we decorate the fish with a sign, a mouth and fins. The fins and mouth are painted motorcycle tires, similar to those we used on the swing set. Using foam floats washed up on the shore, we painted them to look like eyeballs and attached them to the side of the fish.
One of the pieces of art in his studio was painted fish on netting and driftwood. We asked if he had any extra fish, which he did. We painted these and then the next group would attach them to the netting. I can't wait to see pictures of "our fish" on a Hoi An beach.
Some days I am just overwhelmed at how blessed I am to have the experiences I am enjoying. And how lucky I am to be born into the life I was. Today was one of those days. I am here in Hoi An, Vietnam, near Da Nang on the southern coast. Hoi An is a UNESCO World Heritage site. The ancient city was a major trading port in the seventeenth century before the river was made shallower by silt. Many original buildings still stand.
This is my third experience with 'voluntourism", my second with GlobeAware. Two years ago my friend Kyle and I travelled to work in a village outside Siem Riep, Cambodia where most of our work was teaching English in a village school. This year we returned to Asia where we were expected to be doing a variety of things needed in the community. Day One we’d be helping to build a bathroom for a poor family outside of town. I expected this day to be rewarding for its physical contribution, along the lines of doing laundry at a refugee camp in Greece, last year’s trip. Once again, I was surprised and delighted.
During breakfast, the family’s dire situation had been explained to us. The home belonged to an elderly couple. At sixty, I had to ask for clarification as to what was considered ‘elderly’ here. The couple in in their 80s. They have three sons. One of them, 40, has two sons of his own and lives with his parents. His wife left him when his youngest, now 7, was one year old. I will refer to them as Grandmother, Grandfather, Father and Son. The older son lives elsewhere now so it’s the four of them in the house. Father had a serious accident and is unable to do physical labor. He works at night as a guard. Their home has one old style bathroom, a tiled room with a hole in the floor. Since eventually they will be building an adjacent house for Father and Son, they decided to start with a “modern” bathroom. We’d be mixing mortar for the brick wall and hauling sand to the area to build up the floor bed about a foot or so. It was long, hard, hot work. We learned that Son has special needs and has been diagnosed with autism. In Vietnam there is no Student Services or Special Ed in public schools. Teachers there were not able to work with him so he was removed from public school and is served by a non-profit agency in Ho An. He has a chronic cough so he was home from school today.
As is not surprising in a village, he was quite shy and did not really interact with us ... at first. As a teacher and auntie, I was bound and determined to get a smile out of him. But I also knew not to push. I have experience with children with special needs which served me well today. Kyle has brought some coloring books and crayons which he presented to Father. I suggested we just set them down and wait for Son to show an interest. Curiosity eventually won out and his dad gave him a book and the crayons. A bit later I peeked into the house and he was intently focused on his coloring. He sure knew how to stay in the lines. But he would not leave the house.
I continued my work, walking back and forth with wheelbarrow loads of sand. Rather than use words, if I needed my fellow volunteers to move when I was passing by I made the sound of a motorbike horn, much like the roadrunner’s “beep, beep.” I observed that this sound got Son’s attention and eventually he would mimic me each time I’d beep-beep. Ah! A crack in the armor! I noticed Son had moved from a bed on the back wall to a day bed closer to the door. I smiled but still said nothing but beep beep.
We stopped to take a water break and we sat on the porch. Son had ventured as far as the porch by now, wanting one of the wipes we used to cool our faces. He left the house! We are making progress, I thought, and said hello. Later as I was walking back and forth if I caught him looking at me I said hello. And sometimes he’d again mimic me with a hello back! By the time I took my next break he came up and tapped me on the shoulder, wanting me to color with him! Oi troi oi! Success! We colored for a bit, not speaking much but pointing and smiling. When it was time for us to leave for lunch, I asked our coordinator to translate that we were going to go, but we would come back. I was rewarded with the biggest smile! All the hard work of the morning melted away.
Upon returning from lunch, we set back to hauling sand and mixing mortar. Son kept tying to get me to stop working and sit with him. My friend Kyle sort of insisted that my work that day should be playing with Son. Reluctantly I sat, not because I didn’t want to, but I felt guilty watching everyone else do this hard, physical work, and here I was playing with a child. Kyle said two things that sealed the deal. “Who or what is making me feel guilt? The work you are doing with Son may be more important.” So I went into teacher mode and focused soley on Son. He quickly picked up the English words for colors. He learned to use my name instead of just kind of saying “hey.” I’d learned how to count to four in Vietnamese and I determined he already knew how his numbers. As is common in the US, people assume that students with special needs can’t learn. In fact, I’d heard one of the NGO employees say, only half of the 12 students and the center where he attends school “are capable of learning.” Uh no, Kathy, everyone can learn, just in different ways and in different times.
Son and I had a wonderful day together. We colored, we played with trucks, beep, beep and we talked as best we could giving language barriers. But his smile spoke volumes.
As our time was winding down, we all sat sat down together, volunteers, program coordinators, the family and contractors. With help of our translator, Father expressed their gratitude for our work and we expressed ours at the honor of being able to help them. When he found out I was a teacher he asked for any advise, given what I knew from being with his son. As a professional educator I was reluctant to offer suggestions without having done any sort of real assessment. But I also realized he’d probably never get a real assessment so I offered a few insights. I wanted him to know how smart his son is and not to underestimate him. Use language as much as possible and insist that Son use his words as well. The look of surprise and pride as he heard my words translated warms my heart even now. He eagerly devoured my words and asked follow up questions. I was sucked in and we talked for quite a while. I apologized to my friends for dominating the conversation but they assured me this was what was needed. Father’s love for his son was so apparent as he listened to me and to the translator. Grandmother showed the same parental love and concern as she intently watched her own son during the discussion. I felt so fortunate to have the knowledge and experience to offer this family hope for Son and real actionable information to help him themselves.
It was time to get back to work, but Son didn’t want me to go. So I invited him to help me. I was unable to see his huge smile as we pushed the wheelbarrow back and forth. Only later we I rewarded with the image. We prepared to leave he put his arms in the air for me to pick him up. He clung to me like a koala to a eucalyptus branch. I’d say, for that day, his armor was completely demolished.
Although we drove away extremely dirty, tired and sore, I would not have change a thing about the day. My heart is filled with gratitude.
In 2015 I gave my 5th graders an assignment to write their future selves a letter. In it they were to explain what they were worried about as they were heading into middle school. This led to discussions about shared fears, [needless] worry and getting support from their friends. For a separate writing assignment, they compiled a list of things that made them happy. After we were done with the assignment, I had them each put their letter and their list into a self addressed envelope. I promised them I'd send the letters when they were done with eighth grade, so they could reflect on how they’d changed, both their fears and their happy things, in the three years.
Re-reading their letters and lists this week brought me back to that special time with my students. I wasn’t positive, but I was pretty sure I wasn't going to be returning to Bagby. So these kids, with their hopes and fears and happy things, are quite special to me. It was also a really tough year, both personally and professionally for me. I don’t regret my decision to leave the classroom. But there are things about teaching I miss. And the kids. I miss the kids. Each and every one of them. Even the children of the corn. You know who they are. The tough kids, the misunderstood kids, the kids who make it so hard, but need you the most.
So for those of you that still think a teacher only works 8:30-2:30 for nine months out of the year, please. Just stop. I have not taught in a traditional classroom in 3 1/2 years. Yet I am still teaching these kids, and they are teaching me. This week I wrote a letter to my now freshmen. I took it to FedEx to make copies, since my printer is low on ink. Then I hand-wrote (in cursive) a short personal note to each child. That’s thirty-one kids. I mailed them off today, at my own expense. And before you throw in nonsense about a pension, know this. Because I only taught after working in the private sector, the government will withhold 2/3 of my pension value from the social security I paid into, once I start drawing from both. That is due to this inane rule passed by congress in 1983 called the Windfall Elimination Provision. But I digress.
This blog post is not to toot my own horn about some amazing assignment we did almost four years ago, or to bemoan the pay that teachers get (or don't), but to remind you that your children make an indelible mark on our lives, as we hope to make on each and every one of theirs. Teachers work long and hard to give your child their best, sometimes at the expense of our own families. We do it because we care about their future and the future of our world.
“True teachers are those who use themselves as bridges over which they invite their students to cross; then, having facilitated their crossing, joyfully collapse, encouraging them to create their own.”
It all started with a Facebook post. 'Anybody want to join me for a 1-week volunteer trip to Cambodia...?' Well, sure I do! And thus began a life-changing adventure!
On the Wednesday night before Thanksgiving, despite the holiday madness, my friend +Mira Wooten was gracious enough to drive me up to SFO. There I met my friend and co-pilot on this adventure, Kyle. Kyle and I have been friends for almost 30 years. He and his husband travel extensively and often ask for friends to join them. I always wanted to say yes and the time was finally right!
At 5 minutes after midnight, while turkeys were defrosting all across the US, our Singapore Airlines flight took off for Cambodia, by way of Hong Kong, and Singapore. We arrived in Siem Reap, Cambodia around 10 o'clock in the morning on Friday and were met by our Global Aware coordinator, Alin. Globe Aware, a nonprofit 501 (c) (3) develops short-term volunteer programs in international environments that encourage people to immerse themselves in a unique way of giving back. Alin introduced us to our tuk-tuk driver, Mr. Raht. We were delivered safely to our guest house where we checked-in and freshened up from the 24 hours of travel. We spent Friday through Sunday sightseeing with an extremely knowledgeable and somewhat crazy tour guide. He had us trekking the road less traveled as we explored the famed temples of the region. Angkor Wat was of course, breathtaking. Baphuon and Ta Prohm were incredible. But for me, the intricacy and history of Angkor Thom were most compelling. There are 54 four-faced spires, representing Compassion, Sympathy, Charity, and Equanimity which watched serely over the out across the provinces of King Jayavarman VII's empire. We could all benefit from those faces reminding us!
On Sunday we also stopped by to check out the school where we'd be volunteering that week. Even though it was a Sunday there were about 30 children, aged 2-18 waiting to meet their new teachers. It was exciting and humbling to see the school. The classroom is about 8 rows of benches and tables, under an overhang off of the mother's house. There is a dirt floor and wooden benches with old school posters hanging on the wall of the house and a whiteboard on one end.
In Siem Reap, students attend government school only half a day. During the Khmer Rouge, dictator Pol Pot, in an attempt to socially engineer a classless communist society, destroyed all of the schools and killed or imprisoned most teachers. The impact of this remains 40 years later. Due to a lack of resources and minimum government funding for schools, there is a shortage of teaching material and school facilities. Teachers, like those in this county but with a bigger detriment, are underpaid. Children that live where there are private schools and have the financial resources to attend, go to private school or tutoring for the other 'half' of their day. These schools are usually taught in English, so students are learning English along with additional content. In the poorer villages outside the city, no such options exist.
A few years ago, a mother in the village decided to start an English school for the village children. GlobalAware became aware of the school and decided to bring in volunteers. Which is how Kyle and I ended up in the small village outside Siem Reap.
Sunday night, Kyle, the planner, sat us down to plan out what we would teach. We'd been given the primer they were using at the school, but the teacher in me just couldn't use it. We talked about what vocabulary would be most useful to these children and tried to focus on that. So time of day, days of the week, greetings and such were our starting vocabulary. WIn addition, we ended up covering colors, shapes, body parts (head, shoulders, knees and toes) and we also did some lessons in hygiene.
Monday morning arrived and Kyle and I were excited to work with the children. We had hoped to be able to break them up into smaller groups, but since we only had one interpreter, we decided that would be too hard. We started in with greetings and "hello my name is...." It was so challenging working with an interpreter, but it made us really thoughtful and reflective on word choice. We made it through the morning session and Mr. Raht, took us back to our lodging, where we freshened up a bit. I asked our manager there where to get school supplies. Since her children were home for their midday break, she volunteered her kids walk us to the school supply store to pick up art supplies. Everywhere we went during the week, people were just so nice! After the store (where I resisted the urge to buy everything I could carry) we had a tasty lunch before heading back to school for the afternoon group. Several students were there for both morning and afternoon. We covered much of the same material and tweaked our lessons a bit for the slightly older group of students. Many of the morning children were there for all or part of the afternoon sessions. One of the little guys in the front row fell asleep in the afternoon. His friends tried to wake him, to no avail. I told them to let him sleep...learning is hard work! They were all so eager to learn. It was hot, dirty and hard work, but the hugs and smiles made it all worthwhile.
While I was away, I posted some about our experience on Facebook. One comment by my friend and former colleague struck home:
MKAs I stand in front of my highly privileged students who are generally so unappreciative of what they have and what others do for them, I think of the students you are teaching who are at the other end of the “privilege” spectrum, and get such joy from simple things and those who try to help them. I think I would take your students over mine any day.
Sandra:It is incredibly humbling, MK. One of my Bagby friends posted a pic of their lost and found rack. These children would be so grateful for a second or third shirt, much less so many clothes that you can ‘lose’ some. Perspective.
Monday after school we stopped by the lumber yard to order supplies to repair Grandmother's home, which had been damaged in the rainy season's storms. Tuesday we worked with shapes and colors and names of everyday objects. We had to remember that in Cambodia, everyday objects were not the same as in the States. Every evening, after a shower and a nap, Kyle and I would meet to plan out the next day, before venturing into the city for dinner. The days flew by so quickly. The students were so proud of their work and even Mr. Raht, knowing the value of speaking English in a country whose economy was fueled by tourism, participated in all the lessons.
In addition to teaching, we built and installed two walls for Grandmother's home and also built a wheelchair. Another Khmer Rouge remnant in Cambodia is landmines. Cambodia is one of the most heavily mined areas in the world; some estimates run as high as ten million mines (in a country of 11.5 million people), though the Cambodian Mine Action Center (CMAC) estimates 4 to 6 million mines. These mines came from many places, likely including the USA. Partnering with Free WheelChair Mission, Global Aware provides the parts to assemble an easy to build, rugged wheelchair made from bicycle tires, plastic lawn chairs, and a welded frame. For $80, a wheelchair can be built, shipped, and delivered throughout the world, giving landmine survivors mobility, independence, and dignity. We were able to get parts for one while we were there and assembled it on Thursday, but were unable to connect with its recipient while we were there.
Friday came too soon and we said goodbye to our students. I am already trying to figure out how I can come back and teach for a longer period of time. Being with these kids, feeling their desire to learn and understanding the value of an education in a third world country really reignited my passion for teaching.
As an educator in America that statistic is shocking, saddening and infuriating. I was working in high tech in 1999 when Columbine captured the world's attention. In Littleton, Colorado, on April 20, 1999, twelve students and one teacher were killed by two teenage students. The Columbine shootings rank as one of the worst mass shootings in US history as well as one of the deadliest episodes of school violence. (source CNN).
Like other disasters - the explosion of the space shuttle, John Lennon's murder and 9/11- I remember where I was, what I was doing, and what I felt. On that spring day, I happened to be in Boulder, Colorado visiting one of our field offices. Someone said something over a cubicle wall about a shooting, and we all tuned into the news. We'd all heard of gun rampages, even back in the 1960s, the infamous clock tower shooting at the University of Texas, Austin in 1966. Not to minimize, that was carried out by a 25-year-old on a college campus. But Columbine was different. Children massacring children. What was happening to the world? I was shocked and so very sad. My son was almost the same age as many of the victims. I was worried. I was heartbroken.
After the initial fear and outrage subsided, nothing much changed. Yet, everything had. Santee. Virginia Tech. Northern Illinois University. Too many to name. Hundreds of lives changed. Too many lives lost. Yet, the shootings continued. By December 2012, after a career change, I had been working in education for 7 years. I was teaching fifth grade and the news of Sandy Hook seeped into our classroom. It was horrific. These were babies - many of the victims were kindergartners. What if this happened at my school? I visualized what I would do if a shooter came on our campus, and I know my students did, too. Surely, this would be the wake-up call our country needed to make some meaningful changes to gun access laws and the identification and treatment of mental health issues. Sandy Hook would be a rallying cry. We would not forget. Congress would not ignore the real and present dangers of access to weapons. Surely.
Schools practiced code red drills. District bonds were approved to install fencing and locked gates to elementary campuses. Things changed on a micro-level. Hearings were held on the state, local and national levels. Yet, nothing changed. There have been 186 shootings on school campuses in the U.S. since 20 children and six adults were killed at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Conn., on December 14, 2012, according to Everytown For Gun Safety, an advocacy group. (source LA Times).
Of course, we were wrong. No gun control measures were passed by Congress. And though many states passed laws restricting access to guns, more states actually made it easier to buy weapons. (Source: Vice.com)
I am sure greater minds than mine have thought about this. But here is what I think. It's all about the Benjamins.
Hear me out. When a plane crashes, the FAA gets involved immediately. They study the disaster from every angle and real changes are made to procedure or product. Not to be cynical, but the airlines have a vested interest in making these changes. After all, it was their logo on the tail of the plane. Their lawsuits to settle. Their claims to pay out. They have a financial motivation to make sure it never happens again.
Who has the financial interest in stopping school gun violence? Who is held accountable when a madman (and let's be clear, it is almost always a white male who shoots the gun) fires into a school? His therapist? The person who sold him the gun? The gun or ammo manufacturer? The NRA? No. Guns don't kill people. People kill people. No one other than the shooter, and maybe his parents, are held accountable. So no one financially benefits from stopping the murders from happening again. So no one is putting pressure on our lawmakers to have the courage to stop allowing access to unnecessary firearms for people ill-equipped to handle them properly. So guns keep getting into the hands of children killing children.
And the shock, and sadness and infuriating frustration of inaction remain.
Sadly, I do not see this changing. Our lawmakers simply do not have the will do make the change. So we must. Organizations like the Sandy Hook Promise work to prevent gun-related deaths due to crime, suicide, and accidental discharge so that no other parent experiences the senseless, horrific loss of their child. So that no teacher has to explain to her students that she will do whatever it takes to protect them, all the while knowing she is powerless against an assault rifle. So that no other confused young man will decide that shooting up a school is his only option.
My colleague and friend, Sheila Monger and I talk a lot about gratitude. After a particularly rough couple of years teaching, she and I would daily remind each other of our mantra to Choose Gratitude. When teachers get caught up in the problems it is easy to become negative and grumpy. No one sets out to be 'that teacher' but we all know them, and at times, may have been them. There really is so much to be grateful for. And lest you think I am a Pollyanna, rest assured, I am not. I was laid off every year for my first 6 years of teaching. I have had great and not so great colleagues and administrators (I liken a principal to an appendix, you don't notice them until they are bad) My husband was diagnosed with cancer in the middle of year 8 of teaching and died the following winter. So I have had a lot of reason to be grumpy and not grateful, yet still, I choose gratitude.
So imagine my great joy to meet +Scott Meile. Scott is a 8th grade English teacher in New Jersey. His district is in an area with one of the highest teen suicide rates in the country. He saw a need for connection in his classroom and community, and he created it with the Door of Thanks. With all the bad in the world, Mr. Meile encourages his students to stop, think and appreciate what they have. Throughout the year, students place note of the wall that state what they are thankful for. Notice I said wall. The door of thanks became the wall of thanks, and that became a virtual wall of gratitude!
I met Scott when he traveled to San Mateo, California to participate in a panel discussion at Edmodocon16. I was honored to facilitate the discussion on Supporting the Whole Student with Edmodo. This panel included short presentations from speakers on how they use Edmodo to meet the unique needs of their students for more than just academics—building community, supporting a school Gay-Straight Alliance, reaching out to students who struggle to get to school, and encouraging gratitude.
Although I've begged Scott to blog about his gratitude journey, Being a busy dad, husband, teacher and coach hasn't allowed him much time to write. So I asked his permission to share his story. in his own words.
It’s our job in education to show them that our school, our community, our families aren’t just about what we’re teaching but the people that are involved and the relationships that are created and the people we meet. The issues in New Jersey aren’t uncommon everywhere else, There is that many young kids don’t know where to turn. There’s peer pressure, bullying, and self image awareness which often leads to students not knowing who to turn to or who they can trust. Peers are left with unanswered questions, they often don’t understand or realize that some kids need help and aren’t being taught compassion or understanding and the ability to find the right people to talk to.
In our class we try to recognize the importance of our team and our goals, in addition we take time to recognize our lives outside of the classroom. We push ourselves to complete tasks, but more importantly we learn about each other. We take 6-10 minutes everyday and give thanks. Edmodo is the key because it unlocks a level of communication and acceptance that isn’t always easy for students to receive or acknowledge. We each and everyday make it a point to reach out to one another, and comment on some of the things that are going on in our lives outside of school (or within our school community) and that allows for interpersonal growth that sometimes is lacking in today’s students busy schedules and culture. Edmodo creates a connectedness that allows for something easy, reachable, and creative. It takes a snapshot of our class, the highs, the lows and everything in between and we document these moments and get to see the growth throughout the year.
Emotional intelligence is something we try to grow throughout the year, taking time to talk about gratitude leads to more interesting conversations regarding citizenship and compassion. As I have become more and more experienced in the classroom I have found I have less and less to say to my students regarding their learning. I often find them discovering new things and showing me more about their learning then I ever imagined was possible. But, what I have found myself talking more and more with the kids is their responsibility to each other, how we as a class can make a difference, and more importantly, every person should act with respect, integrity, and empathy.
Even more importantly it has made me a better teacher, dad, and coach because I have come to realize just how much of a struggle the kids go through on a daily basis.
I am grateful for teachers, and friends, like Scott.
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