Wednesday, January 23rd:
This morning Lisa, Mary, Sarah, and I walked to school together, which was the first time this year. 5B lined up to greet me. One of the boys was really acting out. I made him leave the class. When I've done that in the past, he will usually poke his head in and say something in Kurdish to make the class laugh. Preemptively, I announced that anyone who laughed or snickered or made any comment if/when he tried to come back in would lose their break. Sure enough, a minute or two later, the door opened. But the class was silent. No one even looked his way! I was very impressed. He, on the other hand, was chagrined and stayed out until I came to get him.
In 6B I had the opportunity to explain part of my teaching philosophy to a couple of the students. I have an older student in the class who retained last year. His English comprehension is limited and by default feels that he is entitled to certain rights. I recognized early on that I would have to earn his respect and compromise with him in order to manage the rest of the class. Whether I give him permission or no, he insists on eating a sandwich during the time that coincides with my class (typical teenage boy). In between classes, he will usually slip out to the cafeteria and eat a sandwich, then come back to my class a few minutes late. Worse yet, he will leave to go to the bathroom or see the nurse, which he does, then picks up a sandwich while he is out. Inevitably another student sees him and will announce it to me in front of the entire class. When this happened a couple weeks ago, I could tell that the class was watching to see what I would do. How would I exact justice? I prayed silently and when he came in, asked him, "Did you eat a sandwich while you were out?" He grinned impishly and nodded his head. "The next time you do that you owe me." The kids held their breath. "You have to buy me a sandwich during my break." Everyone breathed a sigh of relief and laughed, explaining what I'd said to him in Kurdish. Since then, he's gotten a sandwich a couple times and has faithfully brought me mine during the break. Today one of the other students complained about this after class. His friend was standing with him and it was interesting to watch as his friend defended me. I explained that I can only control this student to a limited degree (which they all readily attest to - he has been known for throwing tantrums and getting in a rage, though this year is much better). I asked him, "Would you rather that I fight with him over a sandwich, or something that matters, like his behavior in class?" The friend started speaking rapidly in Kurdish, persuading the other student that I was right. I also explained that I have to start with each student at his level, that I expect more from some students because I know they can give more, while others require more patience. The offended student happens to be one of my most talkative (and doesn't understand English very well either), but I have shown him a lot of grace on his tests, letting him stay late to explain the problems. I reminded him of this and the other student chimed in again. The offended student backed down and even apologized for getting upset with me. I have been worried that the students would think I am unfair, but it was encouraging to hear them justify my actions to their peers and deem them "fair" according to their standards.
During the break, a couple of the girls taught me some Kurdish grammar. They enjoy seeing the roles reversed, and are always very encouraging. Part way through 6A, the curriculum coordinator came in to talk to the students about their grades and address a complaint from several of the teachers that the students were getting worse academically. He asked them for the reason. As they sat in silence, I reminded them that we just had a conversation about this the other day - they just don't care. After the c.c. left, I launched into a five minute lecture. A couple students tried to excuse their behavior, but the rest shushed them and told them to listen. I tried to hear what they were saying - "this teacher won't let us ask questions," "they don't care about our marks" - but then shifted the responsibility on the students. "You have to learn to be teachable." I explained what I meant by this and reminded them that saying "I don't understand" isn't being teachable. "You have to care that you are learning and you have to care about what you are learning. Even if I was the best teacher in the whole world, it wouldn't make a difference if you didn't want to learn." Some of the students grappled with what I said, but for others it made sense and was hopefully motivating.
After school, Sarah and I taxied to Andy and Lisa's. We watched the first episode of Season 2 Downton Abbey as a team. I brought over some candy from America, Lisa made popcorn, we drank coffee and started our long weekend feeling very American. When we got home, I took a nap and later enjoyed reading a book over a cup of tea. In the evening we had our Skype call with Dave and Lisa which was laid back and very encouraging.
Thursday, January 24th:
Today being the prophet's birthday, we had a holiday. It was nice to not have school today, even though first thing this morning it felt like the day was filling up fast. Since it is cheaper to use Internet between 6am and 10am, I checked email, did my 40 minute workout and then ate breakfast. Took a shower, then baked dessert for tonight's team meal (we moved it to today since we have friends coming in from Erbil). I made some lunch and read for a little bit. At 2pm, I met my American friend K at a baklava shop. The interior feels a little more Western as they don't have bright fluorescent lights and the small round tables are enclosed by comfortable wingback chairs. We were able to talk without being watched too closely. It was a really encouraging time, especially since we process and are affected by situations similarly. K was a comfort, pointing me to God's Word and challenging me with His purposes.
A little before 4, we headed out and walked to the orphanage. K is an excellent Kurdish speaker and was gracious to offer herself as a translator. We had a slow start with the girls who suddenly grew quiet and shy with a second visitor. After awhile, they realized that they could ask questions of me through K. It was obvious that they had wanted to ask these questions for some time, but couldn't because of the communication barrier. One of the older girls took the lead, clarifying with K that I was an American and then asking why I looked Asian. Through K, I explained that I was born in Japan, but my parents from America took me from there and raised me as their own. I told them that the woman who gave birth to me didn't want me. When my American mother, the one they had just met, came to her, she handed me to my mother and said, "Your baby is very beautiful." The girls sat for a minute processing, but had another question ready, "Why didn't the woman in Japan want her?" K turned to me and I explained, "She wasn't married (I knew this would be interesting for K to translate as that concept is so shameful here), and it was very shameful to her family." The girls almost blushed as K translated. I wondered if they felt that being born under these circumstances, I was now a reproach. I continued, "My American mother had enough love to cover that shame when she took me as her daughter." The girls were still for a moment - I wonder how many of them wish their shame could be covered. They asked another question and K told them that the brother who came to Duhok is not my flesh brother (he has blond hair and blue eyes). The next question came quickly and K explained that my mother in America looks on me as her own. She sees no difference between me and my brother. This would have been impossible for them to believe had they not seen my mother's love with their own eyes. The blessing of a language barrier is that everything must be communicated by what is seen - the love between my mom and me spoke louder than any words we might have been able to speak.
In Kurdish the word for adoption is equivalent to "ownership." The family is now obligated to feed and clothe this child, but they are not required to give him/her their name, any rights to their property, no inheritance. No wonder that they often shake their heads as I tell them that I am adopted. The girls had more questions, "Do you ever want to see your birth mother?" I am asked this often and my answer never wavers, "No, God gave me everything I need or could ever want in the mother I have now." There was a time of quiet as the girls heard my story. I tried to ask them theirs, but they weren't ready yet. Perhaps someday. But thanks be to God for the opportunity He gave me through my lovely friend, K, without whom I wouldn't have been able to share God's goodness to me. What an example of a vessel ready to be used in His service!
The visit was a blessing and a reminder of God's faithfulness. We do not see much here, but for the glimpses we are shown, we are very grateful. From the orphanage, K and I parted ways. I walked to Andy and Lisa's where we had a team meal with our fellow CSM teachers from Erbil. Mary made a HUGE pot of lasagna soup and her famous rosemary bread. Lisa made a gourmet Caesar salad ... everyone filled up! Of course, after the dishes had been washed we all managed to find room for dessert. I made Dad's Impossible Pie. I wasn't sure how it would go over - it was 50/50 in our household back when it was just the two girls and Mom and Dad, and it was one of Dad's bachelor-day recipes - but the guys all liked it and so did Lisa. I enjoyed it, but more especially because it reminded me of Dad. Sarah brought ice cream and made homemade whipped cream and chocolate sauce for sundaes. After dessert we went up on the roof for a fire. Some local friends came by. After my time at the orphanage, I was feeling a little more courageous and tried my Kurdish with the 10-year-old daughter. She knew some English and we managed to work out a conversation. Andy and Lisa's neighbors also came by. They visit the Syrian camp regularly. It was good to hear about their work there ... as much as I would love to be a part, God is showing me that He is using others, and has placed me in a position to encourage and support them. We had a wonderful, smoky evening, which I ended with a shower and bed.
