I had a pretty hefty post written when the Internet broke.  Much like an ant must think the world is ending when it rains, when I can't access the internet in the middle of a blog post, the entire information superhighway must be under construction.  

In the interest of laziness, I will summarize what I wrote:

The MUN conference we attended was not the best I've ever been to.  It was the second, but I can tell these things.  A few of the doozies:

• Syria signed on to a Middle East peace agreement written by the USA and Israel.
  
• Non-nuclear countries will help nuclear ones get rid of their nukes.
  
• The UN is invading Somalia.
  

After the conference fifteen students, my co-worker and I traveled around Chennai and Pondicherry for a few days.  Activity week was going on last week, when many students go on insane hikes or live in a local village for a week.  I got to do the following:

• Go to the beach and swim for the first time in a long time.
• Eat French food
• Eat beef almost every day at Sparky's
• Visit the second largest courthouse in the world and sit in on a court case
• Visit one of the first British forts built in India

All in all a good week.  Upon landing in Delhi, we heard via a parent that our school was in the newspaper!  Apparently, the FBI caught a guy who said that a terrorist group may be planning some kind of attacks on high-profile schools in North India.  So, in addition to a general high alert, we have 40 armed police roaming around campus.  You can read about it here.  Another interesting note, the principal addressed the school about this issue.  He mentioned that these men are "rough" and girls should avoid inappropriate dress.  Really?  We have rapists guarding us?  I guess nobody wants to mess with a rapist...

Happy Chanukah!

Yesterday was Diwali, which is a Hindu holiday celebrating the homecoming of Lord Ram after rescuing his wife Sita from the arms of the king of Lanka.  With the help of his faithful monkey-servant Hanuman, good triumphed over evil.

I read they're making a movie with Keanu Reeves.

The past few days have had me pondering a lot.  I'm a Christian who works at a Christian school where a majority of students are not Christian in a predominantly Hindu part of a predominantly Hindu country with a Sikh prime minister.  There are Muslims, Buddhists, and Zoroastrians in there too...

So, I'm trying to think of analogies to what I've seen the past few days.  The school had a fireworks display last night in honor of Diwali (the tradition is to set out diyas or lamps for Ram to find his way home- as if he'd get so lost to come by Mussorie).  I love fireworks, but isn't this kind of like a Jewish school having a Christmas pageant?  I mean, cool in the way of diversity and all, but kind of a contradiction.  But, considering how many Hindu kids are at the school and we don't allow them to go to the temple (the decision based I think on the fact they will buy fireworks and/or get limbs blown off in the bazaar), maybe it's only right that we do some fireworks.  I mean, if a bunch of Christians were a minority at a boarding school and they weren't allowed to go to church on Easter, it'd be only fair to have a celebration at school.

So, I guess the question I've been pondering is more about what is appropriate for Christians to do regarding devotion ceremonies to Hindu gods.  Or, regarding a long-standing fun cultural event.  WHICH ONE IS IT?!?  Some Christian staff participate in the explosive festivities without a second thought.  They'll also happily do yoga (another post, another post) along the Ganga and feel "spiritual."  Other Christian staff grumble that the school does anything for a Hindu holiday.  

I... observe.

A dinner of onions

I have to admit, I get bored just writing about what happens in my life.  It just reminds me too much of Doogie Howser or some 12 year old girl confiding in her secret journal with a too-easily-broken lock.  The past few weeks have had sports day, quarter break, and the student talent show.  Each of those things have fun stories to go with it.  I won a medal for the staff relay, I bought some kind of bronze star globe with Farsi script, and heard a pretty decent cover of a Blur song.  If you're really interested, ask me.

But what I really like about the past few weeks is how settled I have felt living and working here.  Most of the things on my mind are not really blogworthy.  I am now accepting that I cannot get any white or yellow onions.  I will be dealing with students giggling as I mention the Abrahamic covenant (look it up if you don't know what I'm talking about).  I'm okay with that.  Seniors will think they are God's gift to the earth and make up privileges as they see fit.  Yup.

Does anybody besides me really care about the color of onions?  No, probably not.  So I won't write too much about it.  However, if anyone cares, I do make a mean French-style onion soup (no crouton or broiled Provolone).  Add a few globules of yak cheese and that's a dinner, buddy!

A dinner of onions.  Besides pretentious book club books, what else should I write about?

Woodstock has a new dance floor. And gym.

Yesterday, we had our gym dedication.  The old gym was knocked down 11 years ago and the new gym went through permit hell (purgatory maybe?) before being built.  Eleven years of basketball up at dorms and gym teachers screaming at teams outside of classrooms in session.

But no more!  Woodstock now has a gym FAR better than any I've ever seen in a school.  In addition to the standard brown wood on the floor and blue pads on the wall, we have the following:

A gymnastics room

A climbing wall

A squash court

A proper weight room (the treadmills have tvs on them)

REALLY nice scoreboards

Basically, it's an awesome gym.  If I were a PE teacher, I would feel like I could never live up to the standards of the gym.  Let's hope they don't build an RE complex.

In addition to the speeches given by some of the donors and family members of the guy the gym is named after, we had a special dinner and dance.  After filling up on chicken burgers, dosa and hot cocoa, we went up to the gym to enjoy a REAL DJ (not a grade 12 student with an ipod and a tick in his/her thumb, changing the song every 25 seconds).  They also had brought in a guy to do some laser thing.  We were told he did lasers for both Michael Jackson and Elton John.  How can I get to be a big laser guy?

The dance was fun.  I like to limit my dancing to a few times a year, or else it gets old.  It was a great time, watching groups of grade six students flailing wildly, younger staff getting down, awkward sophomore boys jumping and cheering for each other, and older staff couples dancing with each other.  A few of the junior boys took to creating coreography with each other, a few shy middle school students ran off to avoid embarrassment, and a few teachers sought out embarrassment by showing off moves to the students.

I am proud to say that I outlasted most other staff and quite a few students.  By the time the music ended, I was exhausted.  The day began at 7 am with Friday morning Bible study, I taught five classes in the day, ushered my advisory to the gym, sat through speeches, stuffed myself with free food, and danced for three hours.  I got home at 10:50.  Despite all the busyness, it was a great time.  I hope we can open some new building like this every semester.

Hodgepodge

I know, it's been a bit.  The past few weeks have been full and exhausting, which is not necessarily a bad combination.  Last weekend was the RE retreat, which needs a better name.  It's the high school voluntary Christian retreat, which I helped lead a bit.  The theme was "no fear" and we looked at faith, hope and love as the opposites of fear.  I teamed up with another adult to talk about faith.  My main part was to reason out with the kids what we have faith in and why.  The second part was looking at the Christmas story and the crucifixion to see when Mary's faith was tested.  That weekend, we also went on a short short hike to Flag Hill, a hill closeby where lots of local Buddhists hang their prayer flags. 

Maybe the most interesting part of the weekend was what happened after lights out.  The RE retreat has a bit of notoriety for being a weekend with less supervision for couples.  I've heard stories... As everyone was settling down, I noticed a few guys and girls desperately trying to talk and whisper with each other before bed.  When I stopped this, they got clever.  A few girls came over to the guys' side to "get water," one guy gave me a hug and mouthed things over my shoulder as I tried to push him away, and finally, things were yelled in Korean for another student to pass the message on.  Unable to see any other resolution, I grabbed a blanket and posted myself on the floor outside of the guys' room until about 2AM.  They felt guilty, as they should have, but I don't THINK anything happened.  I told the guys that I can stay up later and wake up earlier than they can.  Probably not the truth, but intimidation is important on Christian retreats...

Another thing I've been working on is the student talent show.  I did this last year, so I'm trying to impart my meager wisdom on the students in charge.  My main role is auditions, being the moral monitor and making sure we don't have a bloated show.  It's going alright- we had a few good acts, and no horrible acts so far.

Hopefully my life can slow down a bit over the next couple weeks.  I'm almost caught up on grading, auditions are almost over, and I don't think I have any big events coming up.  I might even get a whole weekend to relax!  I don't think I've had one so far this year.

Ciao.

My adwisory

Last night was the high school advisor night.  Almost all the high school teachers are assigned a group of 8-12 students who you take care of now and then until you leave or they graduate.  I have a group of ten grade 11 students who are a pretty diverse bunch.  To give you a picture, I have two staff kids, three Koreans, an Afgani, a few Americans, a few Indians, and a Thai girl. One student was practically born at Woodstock, while two just arrived a few weeks ago.  Last night, all high school advisors had to entertain their students for a few hours.  Some teachers had the students over to their house and some went out to eat.  

I took my group to Rice Bowl, a local restaurant.  I ordered some pork thukpa and momos.  To translate, I ordered a bowl of noodle soup and dumplings, both Tibetan.  The school gave me Rs 1350 plus I get Rs 240 for the kids not eating in dorms.  The bill came to about 1850.  Somehow, despite me telling the kids that I got money AND taking into account my own food, when I paid the whole thing, they flipped out.  "You shouldn't have done that!" they yelled.  I'm not sure if I said this before, but the students are easily bought.  I know, it sounds bad.  But for kids in a boarding school, taking the kids out to eat now and then will buy their affection.  After Rice Bowl, we went to Cafe Coffee Day (next door) for dessert and beverages.  Most of us ordered a sizzling brownie, and I think it's necessary to have a separate paragraph for this next point.

People like sizzling stuff.  Seriously, who doesn't want to squeal with glee when your hot food is making noises at you?  Back home we have fajitas and maple blonde brownies.  Here in India, a lot of the more upscale restaurants (for Woodstock staff) have "sizzlers" where the food comes out on a hot skillet, choking everyone with its smoke.  The brownie I had last night had smoke created from burning chocolate sauce.  It tasted a little carbonized, but was otherwise a tasty dessert.

Now that I've taken my kids out to eat all together, my plan is to have them over in groups of 3 or 4 for breakfast-for-dinner.  I've been perfecting my chocolate-chip pancakes and I can make some great greasy diner-style hashed browns.  I'm excited for it myself.

Ciao.

Wisdom

School started this past Wednesday, about two weeks earlier than I was ready for. Everything is going fairly well so far. I now teach 9th grade RE (same as last semester), 10 grade RE (general Western philosophy and the philosophy of religion), Old Testament Survey, and 10th grade world history. All around, pretty fun.

So far, having only seen each of my minor classes twice, I'd say my favorite is the 10th grade class.

Today in class, we talked briefly about what they take for granted and how they find out what is real and true. When I asked how they know tectonic plates cause earthquakes, one student confidently said, "textbooks." It got me thinking, and, being my style, I thought aloud, that for these students, the textbook is everything. Their lives depend on them knowing what the textbooks say in all their classes and being able to vomit that information on their APs, SATs, ACTs, and IGCSEs. We followed it up with talking about how we use our senses and reason to figure out many things, but the idea of textbooks stuck with me. How much do I believe based on textbooks, or what a teacher said, or what I read on some blurb online? I certainly know that I have said things wrong in class, and I've seen some poorly written textbooks...

I stick with Socrates' saying: "Wisest is he who knows he knows not." Or, the similar proverb: "The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom." I don't think that would fly if I said it in my class to a question I don't know how to answer, but... I'll still sick with ol' So-crates.

All things new

We had our first day of meetings at the school today.  I do have to say that despite the way we ended the year (tired and tearful), people seem rather energized and happy to be back.

It's an odd thing.  It's been 3 1/2 years since I've graduated with a teaching license and this is the first time I'm not going to be the new guy.  Working in Mexico and Spring Lake Park I was the new guy, but those jobs only lasted one year.  For the first time ever, there are people newer than I am at a school.

It seems like a really great group so far.  They seem really diverse, friendly and full of energy.  I really hope that keeps up and encourages everyone else.

In other news, my new house had its first break-in.  Last night a mouse found a small hole in the outer door followed by a big slant in my inner door followed by my kitchen.  I saw the whole thing and those who know me know that I am not exactly a manly man.  I yelped a bit and avoided the kitchen.  When I moved to my computer, I heard it banging around a little bit, then the sounds got closer.  I swear, it charged at me.  Well, I yelled, and it skreeked and ran out the hole.  Right now the door is lined with fire wood, which will hopefully keep further intruders out.

In related news, I purchased my first handgun today.  It was really a spur of the moment thing, with two of my coworkers and I talking about monkeys and mice.  It turns out that our dearly departed (from India) former Hindi teacher used to chase mice under his refrigerator and shoot them dead with his BB gun.  So, I trekked up with a co-worker from Chicago to the grocery store that also sells BB guns.  The way up we were lamenting that where we come from, only the bad guys have guns.  For him, gangsters and whatnot, for me Republicans and rednecks.  We got a chance to test them out on some monkeys on the way back.  It turns out the monkeys know what these guns are and what they do and took off running.  If they ever get aggressive though, I only get one shot then that thing turns into a club...

I'll let y'all know how the year starts off after more than one day later!

What I did on my summer vacation

Good things about my vacation:

• I ate really good Japanese food in Nepal.
  
• I rode an elephant.
• I read/finished reading the following books:  The White Tiger (worth a read), The Satanic Verses (very well written), The History of the World in 10 1/2 chapters (some parts were better than others) and The Children of Men (the movie was better)
• I learned a few more Hindi/Nepalese words
• I got to knock another country off my list
• I had a baby elephant's trunk feeling my hand for food and I squealed with delight (imagine this scene)
• I saw a lot of cool pagodas
• I saw a "living goddess"- a 4-year old girl who has that title until she loses an adult tooth or menstruates.  Yup.
• I got to see one of my students in his home town.
• I saw some traditional Nepali dances
• I saw a procession of coolies in training.  Maybe the most fun memory.
• I got my kitchen fully set up and baked, roasted, broiled and cooked to my heart's content.
• I made hashed browns for the first time.
• I lied about having symptoms of swine flu to the Indian health people (what- I had a fever for a day in Nepal.  I don't have swine flu, dangit!)
• I am rested and relaxed and ready for the school year to start next week!

Donezorz

I don't really like mixed feelings.  I'd rather be swinging with volatility between emotions than have mixed ones.

The end of the year brings such feelings.  Thankfully (as I've already pointed out), I don't teach seniors so there's none of that sadness or hopefulness about them leaving.  Instead, here's a rundown of the past few days, hopefully explaining my mixed emotions.

After a long weekend of grading exams, I went off to Delhi on an 11-hour bus ride with students.  The students were great, but ANY period of sitting/laying awkwardly for 11 hours is tiring.  Upon arrival in Delhi, many of us got a few hours of sleep before heading to the airport.  I got a light schedule but I had to bring a group of students to the airport at 4:30 AM, and then at 8:00 AM before taking a break.  Bad emotions.

After my break, a few of us decided to haul our tired selves over to the US Embassy.  Within its walls is the American Club, a Shangri-La of beef, beer, and bowling for those who miss those things.  There's a pool too, but it didn't start with B.  Four of us sat around, eating gorgeous cow flesh until we were content.  A humorous note:  The hamburger at the club is called the "Illegal Alien."  Funny on so many levels.  They also had the Fox News morning show on in the lounge, and I realized I did NOT miss American news shows.  Good emotions.

Upon arrival back in Mussoorie after an early-morning train ride and trip up the hill, I was ready to relax, have a few days of simple meetings, and go for vacation.  I quickly realized that was not going to happen.  I had a letter delivered to my door that I won't get in to in-depth.  It informed me, if I may summarize, that one of my colleagues was dismissed, and, ahem, people were not happy.

Now here come the mixed emotions!  I kind of agree to a point with the dismissal.  I do think dismissing a teacher with kids right after graduation is wrong as they don't have time to say goodbye.  But... wait.  This is all a moot point.  My opinion doesn't matter.  I realize this and accept it.  I realize that I am tired, emotional, uninformed, and I have accepted my place lower on the ladder.  Other people disagree.  To them, their opinion does matter, they don't realize how tired, emotional or uninformed they are and don't realize their place is not to deal with hiring or firing.  

So, with this mix of people like me and people not like me, our all-staff meeting descended into crying, screaming, and impassioned speeches pretending that the speaker spoke for me.  Many people simply walked out.

So, my mixed emotions.  I love this school.  The kids are great, even when they're little turds.  The education is excellent and I am proud of my work.  I enjoy what I teach and my department is helpful and caring.  The view, although nature is still overrated, is great and I live in a clean, peaceful section of the world.  On the other hand, I hate politics.  I hate the politics of power-grabbing, emotional wrecks who think they know what's best.  I hate being told what to think and do.  I hate debate over if this is a Christian school (people are Christians, not organizations, and yes, a Christian school can fire somebody).

So, I have mixed emotions about being done for the year.  We didn't end on the best terms, and there may be some guerillas about next year in addition to the monkeys on the school campus.  But, is there ever a match for the joy a teacher (or student) feels when the school year is out? 

I'll be moving house and heading to Nepal over the next few weeks.  I'm not sure how much I'll be posting until I get back towards the end of July.  Don't expect daily updates or anything.

Peace.

Where to?

I know, I know.  I still have work to do.  I'm proctoring/invigilating (neither words I've used before) a few exams and I have 89 finals coming in on Thursday and Friday to grade before Monday before heading to Delhi with the kids on Tuesday and coming back in time for the banquet and final meetings next Friday and Saturday.  

...I'll keep in mind to watch my schedule next semester- if I make it there.

But, despite all the work ahead of me, I'm excited for a vacation.  I received a few more details about my trip to Nepal.  Everything is apparently set up for us except my train tickets that need to be purchased.

I'm still figuring out exactly what to do between June 20th and July 5th, though.  Some of that time will be taken up by moving and settling into my new house, of course.  I'm also looking into excursions to places not that far away.  There are so many, though and I just can't decide.  It would seem, however, that unless I go farther away than I want to, I will be stuck in the monsoon conditions.  I might just make a pilgrimmage to a place known for its apple cider...

I'll let y'all know.  If I don't write in the next two weeks, it means the exams have killed me.

Viva Nepal.

Today, as we do almost every Tuesday and Thursday, we started the day off with a high-school assembly.  After a devotion by the art teacher about the story of her getting married, a blurb about change in our lives, and announcing her pregnancy to the kids (go Guenthers!), one of the Nepali students got up on stage.  The Nepali students are possibly the most patriotic students we have at our school, with the Bhutanese right behind them.  Wait, you've never met a Nepali or Bhutanese person before?  What's that?  Where's Bhutan?  Never mind.  

The Nepali girl described how eight years ago today almost the entire Nepali royal family was killed by one of the princes.  It's an engaging true story, so if you haven't heard about it... hear about it.  The video that followed was a tribute to the royal family comprised of a bunch of pictures and videos set to a Nepali rock song.  What?  You don't know Nepali rock music?  Whysoever not?

Anyways, after it was over, the Nepali flag went up on the screen and the national anthem started.  Instantly, every Nepali student sprung to their feet.  I noticed a few other students do so as well.  I watched one of my colleagues, an Indian Christian woman who I knew would be doing what I should be doing.  As I saw her rise to her feet, so did I.  Within seconds, the entire student body was on its feet.  It wasn't about politics- most of our Nepali students are Royalists, in the minority in Nepal.  Most citizens of other countries just don't care.  It wasn't about national identity- students and staff from all over the world were standing.  It was just a moment of solidarity.  Standing with those young people whose country has been suffering and unstable for eight years.  I wouldn't normally stand for a national anthem from a country I've never been to.  I don't even stand for the American national anthem that often.  But, I stood, I realized, because I like my Nepali students and wanted to support them.  

This place, and especially the students, seem to be winning me over.

Senioritis

I've said a few times that if you want to get to know people and think they are decent human beings, meeting them the last semester of their senior year is not the way to do it.

I try my best to keep a good attitude about these guys, giving them the benefit of the doubt.  But this week was a little much.  Consider:

Tuesday was the senior skip day.  It was hastily organized and no teachers, advisors, or administrators were informed about it.  Basically a slap in the face.  One lone girl didn't go, which prompted all sorts of nasty comments about her by her "friends".  The principal went to where the students were and gave them the choice to come back with minor consequences or not come back with major consequences.  Half came back.  Some were indignant that they had their "right" to skip revoked.  Oh, the hubris.  I hate pride, unless it's me that is prideful.  Then I don't notice.

Okay, so the skip day was bad enough.  Maybe I just can't relate because I was really never a senior in high school.  Today, however, I was called into the principal's office (oooooooo!).  Apparently, some of the students claimed that I told them it was a mistake for them to come back.  Huh?  Me, who supported the administration a lot more than some other teachers did?  I said that?  The closest thing I can remember saying is a comment about how they think that if ALL the seniors skipped that they can't be punished.  I guess it's possible to misinterpret that...

My last episode just happened.  I've been working with a student to do an independent project for credit so they can graduate.  To make a long story short, that project has not yet appeared.  To top it all off, after hearing excuses about why it's not in my hand, I find this student with friends at char dukan, the closest thing to the Max these kids have (SBTB reference, YES!).  I was not pleased.

Oh, only four more teaching days and a little over a week of exams to go.  We all need a vacation at this point...

Who got the scoot?

I had never ridden a scooter. A part of that goes back to the blood oath my mom made me made about never getting a motorcycle. But, it's a scooter not a motorcycle and I only rode on it, not owning it. So good. As I zipped up to char dukan on the back of my Spanish student's (i have a student?) I noticed we were going about 15 kph. Still, SO much better than walking up that hill.
...
...
I want a scooter.

Very different questions

I had a lesson yesterday in my Intro to Christianity class about the differences between Catholics and Protestants.  Here are some questions I was asked:

"If a priest is giving last rites and the dying person chokes to death on the wafer, do they still go to Heaven?"

"So, let's say that a priest is hearing confession and someone confesses to murdering the priest's wife (I explained why this couldn't happen)-  Okay, his son then (I explained why this couldn't happen)- Okay, his sister.  Would he kick the guy's butt?"

"Is suicide the same sin as murder?"

Not only such a quick switch from the absurd to the serious, but pretty hard to answer all of them.  Five more classes to go before exams!  I'm going to miss this class.

sitcom

I am happy to say that I see my life like a comedy.  It's really the best genre for the way I see the world.  Also, since my other options are romance, horror, and tragedy, it's really the best option.  I have at times wondered aloud why there are never any sitcoms about teaching.  There is so much ripe material in the things that people say and do in this job.  Take this example from the past week:

On the test for Judaism, I asked, "When was the Jewish Temple destroyed?"  The answer, for those of you who don't know, is 70 AD.  Most students got this correct.  One student, however, answered "1780."  Get it?  Get it?

The students I teach are often the funniest people I come into contact with.  There's something that goes on in my head when I get into a battle of wits with my students that I can't describe, but I know I enjoy.  When they're trying to think of a way to push back a test date or raise their grades and I can outsmart them?  Amazing.  

What I enjoy even more is when the students outsmart me.  A while back, one of my students was trying to get a Starburst out of me.  Conventional asking and begging failed.  After class, she offered me a mint.  The second I put it in my mouth, she gleefully demanded a Starburst.  Dangit, I couldn't say no with that mint in my mouth.

Upon more thinking, I'm not sure a sitcom would work, really.  A teacher's cast of characters is so big, including students, co-workers, and administration, that there'd be no way to keep storylines going.  Teaching is more like a gigantic, middle school orchestra.  It's huge, messy, and chaotic on the outside.  But, every so often, that middle school orchestra surprises everybody with their harmonies and beautiful music.

I feel like this post has been very cliched and cheesy.  Forgive me.  I just don't have a ton to write about.

Right now, life is normal.  I'm teaching, scraping together something like a social life, and planning my summer and next year.  It'll be more exciting in a month or so, I swear.  New house, new experiences, new classes, new people, new season of my sitcom.

Spring has sprung

... and love is in the air.

Pretty much everyone under the age of 20 has noticed that with the warmer weather, comes more public displays of affection here at Woodstock.  I don't know if that's the best word to describe them, though.  They are IN public, but the kids would be horrified and offended if you call them on it.  Ask the teacher that decided to take a picture of a couple making out, much to the horror of the students involved (it was deleted).  They ARE displays, but with the word display, I think of manequins in a store window.  It's the word affection that I especially don't care for.  How many of these students are REALLY in love and truly have affection for each other.  So, my term that I'm sure won't catch on:  Public and oblivious showings of codependancy and/or saliva exchange, or PAOSOCADSE.  In Spanish, this is a reflexive verb meaning "to be codependant and/or swap spit."

Watch the dipthong.

Besides the average temperature of teenage bodies, other things are heating up around here as well.  The lack of rain, dead leaves, and winds have teamed up to create forest fires.  The hills have been in a perpetual state of haze from the smoke, and a few nights ago, I looked out to see that pretty much every hill surrounding us was on fire.  There was even a fire on the Woodstock hillside yesterday, not a 10 minute walk from my house.  Let's hope nothing gets worse!  Monsoon is just around the corner, from what I hear.

Culture

This weekend I got to attend a few different events (nothing ever stops here at Woodstock).  

First, we had the Indian music concert, which only happens once a year.  The kids who train on the sitar, tabla, santoor, and vocals all get to perform for the school.  It was an interesting experience, and again I realized how little I really know about this land I live in.  The way music is described is incomprehensable to me.  Songs were described to be played at 15 beats in raag teentaal.  Honestly, reading the program I thought I was reading the names of students (who is Raag Teentaal?).  The songs also go on for a few minutes longer than is comfortable for my inexperienced Western ears, but the songs are almost enchanting with the rhythms and repetition.  I'll have to go next year and really try to figure it out.

Saturday was the Woodstock Mela, which is the Indian term for fair or gathering.  There's a building on campus called the Hanifl Centre for Outdoor Education.  It has been vastly underused, mostly due to its location (the far edge of campus, but, hey, still closer to the school than my house).  Well, Mrs. Hanifl was in town, so heck, let's try and show her we use the place!  The Mela was held there, despite the old location working fine and dandy.  

Vendors from Mussoorie and from the smaller villages further into the mountains showed up to hawk their food and wares.  The Thai, Japanese, and Korean kids at the school organized to serve food (or shaved ice) to help with scholarships.  The 9th grade sold hot dogs (chicken kabobs on a bun), the 11th grade sold ice cream, and the 12th grade did nothing as far as I could tell.  My grade, 10th grade, was supposed to be in charge of the carnival.  Long story short, because of the location, we had no room for a carnival and we were reduced to face painting.  Overall, it was a good time for me.  First of all, I had the shortest walk to an event for the first time ever.  I ate a ton of good food and got my hands on some rare brown sugar (about a dollar at Walmart, where it is from, but I paid 300 rupees or about 6 dollars for it).  I also picked up a batik wall hanging of an Indian-looking Jesus.  Very cool.  

In addition to all the food and selling, there was a bit of entertainment.  A few Nepali kids did a dance, the elementary kids all dressed up and danced, and a few of the Woodstock employees did a dance.  But, the best was the group of kids from a local village.  They rocked the place with their Indian dance moves (screwing in the light bulb and all).  They had major stage presence and at one point a bunch of them jumped on each other's shoulders and danced like that.  I'm learning that for men, dancing is all in the shoulders around here.  I continue to use my hips when dancing, but I have been practicing the shoulder bounce.

Anyways, the weather has gotten nicer, it's almost May, and that spring lethargy has been creeping into student and staff alike.  Summer is almost here!

The biggest

The past week or so, I've been saying the following phrase: "That's the biggest (fill in animal or bug) I've ever seen!"

They grow 'em big here in the Himalayas. First was the biggest monkey I've ever seen while eating lunch on Sunday a few weeks ago. This massive langour (the nice, grey ones) runs by and climbs up a house. At the same place this past week, I saw the biggest bee I've ever seen. You know those old Sally Jesse Raphael show where they would show massively obese people compared to average people? Imagine a normal, fuzzy bumblebee, then think of a massively obese bumblebee. Like a little, flying black and yellow tank.

The other day, I saw the biggest spider I've ever seen, in my house. I sat down in the bathroom (we're all very comfortable talking about this process at this school) and noticed a spider hiding behind the pipe underneath my sink. It wasn't hiding very well. Like if I tried to hide under a desk, its legs were sticking out. This thing was huge. Probably about the diameter of my pinky finger and then some. Paralyzed with fear (and on the toilet, so unable to move anyway), I yelped when it scurried away to another location in my house. I only hope my ayah killed it.

Next Food Network Star?

I can't explain it.  I've only really had one success when it comes to cooking here in India.  And that's grilled cheese.  I've never been much of a grilled cheeser before, but now I'm hooked.  It started by accidentally buying a huge block of cheese and not knowing what to do with it.  Now, I go through a block every 2 weeks.  Here are my variations so far:

1. With sauteed onions

2. With sauteed onions and garlic

3. With sauteed onions and apples

4. With regular cheese, bleu cheese, and sauteed onions and apples

5. With sauteed onions, garlic, and fried bacon (The bacon here is ham, people!  HAM!)

6. My dream and THE supreme grown-up grilled cheese recipe that would overflow the bounds of the bread and taste buds- regular cheese, bleu cheese, bacon, apples, onions, and garlic

All of these use a ton of butter and brown bread.

Man, I need to start learning how to cook Indian food.

Just a quick thought...

I think God blesses me with mountains.  Every time I go to church on Sunday, I take the nice, quiet, flat path called the Chukkar, which goes above town.  For a while, one can see the nearly uninhabited mountains on one side of the hill.  On the other side is Mussoorie, Dehradun, and the rest of inhabited India.  On a clear day, which has been every Sunday I go to church, the snowcapped mountains come into view.  Normally they're obscured by clouds.  Today, they were especially clear, and I saw some huge snowcapped ones I've never seen before.  I imagine (telling this like a 3rd grader) that God is sitting in heaven, sees me going to church and blows the clouds away from the mountain so I can see them.

My first trip away

I spent a weekend in Delhi- here's how it went:

Upon arriving in Delhi, I latched on to my co-worker so he could show me where Pahar Ganj was.  I discovered that it is right where people said it was... across the street from the train station.  I probably would have gotten lost without him.  As soon as I saw the street that people referred to as the backpacker/hippie ghetto, I latched even closer to my co-worker and told him I'm staying where he was.  A phrase that rolled through my head every time I walked down this undesirable street was "Pahar Grunge."  Not too clever, but it's what I came up with.  This street is seedy.  There was garbage everywhere and unidentifiable feces to match.  Salesmen with horrible, horrible souviniers (like a crappy drum or a wooden snake) accosted us although it was nearly midnight.  Shady young men accosted us to stay in their hotels/guest houses/caves.  It was accosting.  To summarize Pahar Ganj, over the next few days I heard the following phrases non-stop whenever I was on this street:

"Baksheesh, Babu!" = old ladies begging for money

"Hey, man! Where you from?" = untrustworthy men trying to get me to buy something or go to an emporium (more on this later)

"Hash? You want hashish?" = kid outside my hotel with a very interesting sales pitch.  He doesn't say this directly to you, but says it so you hear it.  If you want hash, you perk up and listen.  If you get mad, he wasn't talking to you.  If you ignore him (like me), he keeps asking.

So, Friday, I got my feet wet in Delhi.  I saw the India Gate (it's a big gate), the houses of Parlaiment and the President's house (empty because of the holiday), the Lodhi Gardens (quite nice, actually), and the rooftop restaurant of my hotel where I had an excellent Chicken Kiev and some French onion soup - those of you who know my history of French onion soup in India will laugh- it wasn't that good here, either.

Saturday was my extreme tourist day.  I started out by swearing off all emporiums to my co-worker I ran into in the hotel.  For those of you out of the know, an emporiums are crappy, extremely over-priced tourist shops that all sell the same things.  On Friday, I was unexpectedly dragged to two of them by auto-rickshaw drivers.  Exiting the hotel, I was strucked up a conversation by a guy on the street (figure out the proper way to phrase that!).  He said he'd show me the Indian bazaar with Indian prices.  I was in no hurry and I do need glassware for my house still, so I agreed.  I found out the guy is a dancer and is studying to be a doctor.  He's also a dirty liar who brought me to an emporium.  Confound him!

I then hopped into a rickshaw whose driver agreed to take me around.  I saw Humayan's Tomb, went to an emporium, saw the Lotus Temple, was brought to a jewelry shop (emporium), then was dropped off at the metro station to make my way to Old Delhi.  Old Delhi is a mess of transportation, chaat, and chai.  It's one part alluring, one part overwhelming, and two parts repulsing.  I saw the Red Fort and hopped in a rickshaw to see the Jamma Masjid (the largest mosque in India where I was forced to pay 200 rupees for a camera I didn't want to use) and a Jain temple, which was great until the guy running the place demanded 100 rupees for showing me around.  After being robbed by practitioners of most of India's religions, I was spent.  Upon getting to the spice market, I just asked to be brought to the metro station.  When I got back to the hotel, I realized I hadn't eaten all day, so I grabbed an excellent pasta salad, a mediocre veggie sandwich and a refreshing lemon iced tea from a nearby cafe.  Not wanting to look like a pig but still hungry, I returned to the rooftop restaurant where I had a decent caesar salad (with huge strips of luscious parmesan cheese) and fried date-filled pancakes with honey and ice cream, which was reminicient of Mexican fried ice cream.

On Easter Sunday I slept in.  In my half-asleep mind, I rationalized that I had celebrated Easter a week prior and... I didn't know where a church was.  I made up my mind that I was to see a movie and enjoy good food for the day.  Eventually I made my way to a movie theatre where I saw the International, which was mediocre and cliched, but watching Clive Owen bust up the Guggenheim Museum with an Uzi while sitting in an air-conditioned theatre munching popcorn was just too great.  I left my first movie in three months with a big grin on my face.  I wandered around the nice shopping area of town and bought a few ties, thinking I can get shirts made to match back in Mussoorie.  I returned to the cafe near my hotel and had a satisfying smoked salmon sandwich with potato salad and a sublime Greek salad (with olive oil and balsalmic vinegar!).  I wrapped up my night by watching a bad British horror movie followed by 28 Weeks Later.  Sunday was definitely my most Western day, but it was the vacation I was looking for.

Despite the bad taste I have over Delhi now, I am grateful for the vacation.  I rather enjoy the weather in the mountains, the relatively clean streets of Mussoorie and the lack of an assumption I am an Australian hippie hash-smoker.

And now that I've written a small book on my blog, it's time for bed- Parent-teacher interviews are tomorrow and I'm excited to ask my students what they did over break they don't want to tell me about!

Language

"Oh, French is such a hard language!"  said my co-worker as she dropped her stuff off in the lounge. 

I chuckled a little bit, "Where are you from again?"

The truth is, she's a French teacher from France.  But, I agree with the idea.  It's hard to teach your own language.  When I was in Mexico, I taught a once-a-week conversational English class to a few mothers in exchange for a few extra pesos.  It was tough!  It's hard to explain what so many words we use mean.  And grammar?  I can conjugate a verb in Spanish in the imperfect, preterate, and subjunctive, just to name a few.  But ask me to do that in English?  I'd struggle.

The same way, I'm finding my Intro to Christianity class difficult to teach.  It's a tough enough project:  Take the world's largest religion, and teach it to a group of Hindus, Buddhists, Agnostics, Athiests, and a few lazy pastor's kids and missionary kids twice a week for one semester.  How does one break that up?  How do I explain why bread and wine or if Judas was created to be cursed?  I'm definitely teaching my own language as a subject right now.  

My current teaching tool, and I'm debating if it's a positive choice, is showing the Passion of the Christ.  The kids requested it, mostly because it's a movie and they heard of it.  It's definitely made for a Christian audience, and I'm trying to explain the mindset of a Christian.  We'll see if it works.  On a side-note, the movie is kind of 300-ish in it's slow-motion moving to normal-speed style.

Maybe I should just give them the homework of looking at one of my favorite blogs:  http://stufffchristianslike.blogspot.com/ It's a pretty good de-coder of the mysterious American Christian sub-culture.  Maybe it can conjugate the word "have" into the subjunctive too.

Health, Part Deux!

I am struggling to type this well due to my swollen left hand.

The reason my left hand is swollen?  It had an IV in it.

The reason it had an IV in it?  I was in the hospital.

The reason I was in the hospital?  Well, let me tell you!

The big, all-encompassing Model United Nations convened this weekend.  I was signed on to supervise the UN Environmental Programme (yes, it has 2 m's).  It was a good time and I learned a lot, such as that Iraq wants to fund projects in the Czech Republic, the Volga river is in Austria, and that Alaska is not part of the United States.  The turning point of MY weekend, though was lunchtime where I ate, among other things, bean salad.  I should have known.  The beans were raw, the onion was raw, and the cilantro was raw.  After the conference adjourned on Saturday night, I started to feel queasy.  I made the 30 minute walk home, and, soon enough, I was looking at my lunch once again in a bucket.  While taking a shower, I lost it again.  Within 40 minutes of arriving home, I made the trudge down to the health centre where I vomited again in full view (and earshot) of a bunch of middle schoolers.

I should inform those of you who are ignorant that my vomiting is something to behold.  There are unearthly noises and muscles I didn't know I had start to spasm.  I also break blood vessels in my face, which last time it happened, impressed the doctor.  Put "watching Greg vomit" on your list of things to do before you die.

Soon enough I was at the hospital, shivering uncontrollably in the ER as the doctors looked for a vein to put a needle in.  Not finding one in my hand (I was too weak to make a fist), the doctors shaved a part of my arm to find a vein.  They ended up going into my hand, leaving me with a bald half of my left arm.

Things got a lot less dramatic after I backed off of the brink of death.  Basically, I had a combination of vomiting, nausea, headache, fever, infection-of-some-kind, the "runs," chills, sweats, and maybe temporary AIDS.  One of those is my own non-professional diagnosis.

Health

Today was a health day for me.  Not mental health day.  I don't get those.  No, today I visited the health centre, or a pit of brightly painted doom for me.  To me, it's full of needles and shots and sick, vampiric blood-drawing devices.  I won't even get into the stool samples they have there (I think I read that the smell of feces is demonic).

But, today I needed to visit.  And, I am now the proud owner of tetnaus and typhoid anitbodies.

In addition to the health centre, I visited a nice oral hygenist today.

You went to the Dentist in India?

Nay!  Not the dentist.  I visited a "Oral Health Resort."  Every bit as calming as the dentist, with cheesy music and an upside-down view of the mountainside as seen through a mirror above the chair.

A few months ago, I lost a quarter of one of my back molars in an unfortunate Italian food incident (the food was unfortunate, not the incident).  It didn't hurt, I didn't have insurance at the time and I hate dentists anyway, so fine.  I left it alone.  Saturday night, however, I got a waiwai noodle stuck back in that gap, and I can't remember the last time I've felt dental pain like that.  So, to the Oral Health Resort.

Back to the story, after prodding my gums gap and taking an X-ray, this man proceeds to STUFF A COTTON BALL in my back gums as a way to stop food from hitting my nerve.  Oh, the nerve.  And not only do I have a cotton ball in my mouth, he coated it with sage oil, which tastes and smells nasty.  I go to see him a week from Wednesday.  I wonder if he'll care if I will have picked the cotton out of my mouth by then.

A sore arm and a cottonmouth.  I must be healthy!

Boom, boom, shake, shake now drop.

So, tonight was the talent show I've been working with the past few weeks.  I wasn't even supposed to be doing anything, but I filled in for another teacher to supervise and judge the auditions and just stuck with it.  The show itself was good.  The stage crew didn't know what transitions were, the skits weren't that funny, and the seniors went way too long with their "surprise" that was also kind of lame.  Man, I hope no students find this blog...

On the bright side, there were some great acts.  My favorites made it in the show and did really well.  Some of the kids are really talented and worked really hard to prepare for their songs and dance.  The quirkiest act was a band who dedicated their song to the senior class, then sang "1985."  I leaned over to my coworker and asked, "Weren't most of the seniors born in 1991?"

After the show, I stayed behind to help clean up with the junior class.  After cleaning up, all the juniors got on stage and all of my coworkers supervising the show joined them for a group picture.  Then I realized that all my coworkers that were present were junior class advisors.  So, being that I am currently a 10th grade advisor, that means I get to do this all over again next year.

Joy.

Shopping List

I just hired an ayah, or maid.  She comes recommended by another staff member who says she just does her job well and can cook decent Hindustani food.  I've learned a few things from my Ayah Quest.  (if anyone wants to come up with some kind of graphic for "Ayah Quest," please do)

First, I've learned the caste system is still alive and well.  Some ayahs won't clean bathrooms because unless they're not in the lowest caste, it's beneath them.  My ayah must be in that lowest caste because she says she'll do it all.  Christians or ayahs of non-Hindu religions will do it all as well.  

Second, I've learned how well off I am here.  My ayah is getting paid Rs 900 a month, working 3 days a week.  In USD, that's around $18.  Before you hop on a flight, come to the school, and beat me down (please do, I'd love a visitor), you should know that's about the going rate.  Now, I get paid about Rs 25000 a month, after taxes and all that jazz.  If you put that in USD, it's not much.  But, despite being a lowly, inexperienced, non-head of department, non-major class teacher, I'm sitting rather pretty.  My only expenses are food and recreation.  I got a bunch of tomatoes, potatoes, beans, garlic, ginger, and eggplant for Rs 50, or $1 the other day, and recreation is cheap since I don't do anything.

Third, I've realized I know little to nothing about cooking Indian food.  My little experiments back home with curry paste were tasty, but a very Western approach to a complicated style of food.  My ayah, while picking up the key to my house, dropped off a shopping list so she can cook what she knows (and I can eat what she knows).  Among the things I have no clue about:  Dal (malka), Moong Dal, cabuli chane, garam masala, kitchen king masala, and coriander powder.  Coriander is a powder?  Shut up!  

I feel a little like Marge Simpson when she discovered oregano...

Tan feet

There is something so satisfying to me about having a tan on my feet.  Maybe because they're usually either white as Wonder bread or have that weird sandal tan.  This past weekend I went to a little place just upriver from Rishikesh with about 25 kids and two other adults.  

For my first camping experience, it was pretty posh.  I had my own large tent with a wicker mat on the ground, a cot, and two blankets.  I will assume that this is what camping is always like...

Basically, the weekend was great.  While the underclassmen went rafting, I stayed with the seniors and sat on the "suspiciously-like-the-ash-of-dead-people-but-too-upriver-for-it-to-be" sand, soaked up the heat and light of the sun, and even stuck my feet in the freezing cold river all while the kids went rapelling, kayaking, and swimming.  Yeah, that's pretty much what teaching is all about.

After lunch (served buffet style- again, I assume camping always involves this), I went with the seniors on the rafts.  The rapids were fun, but not quite as exciting as in Costa Rica where at one point our raft got slammed on a rock and the river came pouring in.  But, fun.  After rafting, I joined a game of volleyball with the kids and discovered that I'm fairly good at the game AND trash talking, especially when playing against students.  The night ended with a campfire.  I heard at least one student say, "I'm pretty sure this was the best day ever."  

My night kept going, however, as over the dying coals of the campfire I had a deep philisophical discussion with a student claiming that my practice of teaching ethics amounted to facism.  Those of you who share many friends with me know that I have had much history in arguing with people who argue in circles over the years.  This kid ranks up with the best, but still no match for me.  Despite his claims that he has no ethics and he will do whatever he wants, we ended with agreeing that he does have ethical standards, but they are at the level of a 3-year old.  I didn't phrase it like that, but the bluntness of your axe rarely wins the battle.  The next morning I asked him, half jokingly, "So, did I keep you up all night thinking about your ethics?"

"You!?!" followed by a scoff was his only response.  Rude, but I didn't care.  

My muscles were sore from having fun and my feet were tan.  I was satisfied.

Talent Show

Okay, only the auditions so far.  The past two days, I've spent my afternoons in Parker Hall (for some reason I can't call it the auditorium), watching the talent show auditions.  This is something to write home about.

This being a very musically gifted school, I was expecting some great stuff.  Yesterday, I got some great stuff, but not the kind I was expecting.  I first knew something was wrong when a group of middle school boys did a dance (?) that they clearly choreographed themselves.  The evil inside of me bubbled up and I was literally biting my tounge, trying to not giggle.  A few acts later, there was a group of three guys playing a song.  I couldn't quite make out the song, because the singer kept getting shocked in the mouth by the microphone and stopping.  More than one group had members arguing with each other between lines of their song.  There were a few good groups, though.   A group of 9th grade guys with a very skilled hip-hop choreographer did a dance routine to "Low."  I did have to mark them down a bit because I felt the lines, "I like my women exposed" and "fold her like a pornography poster" were not QUITE appropriate for 6th grade ears.  Two girls also did an impressive Bollywood dance, but the crown jewel of the night came as the last act took the stage.  A group of 6 girls lined up and within four beats, I recognized the tune, "Like a Virgin."  Covering my mouth, I watched in horror and hilarity as these girls executed a very well-put together, but rather racy dance number which included moves such as "grab the butt of the girl in front of me" and "take off my sweatshirt and throw it into the crowd."  I did give them extra marks for confidence.

Today, however, was a lot better.  A few amazing moments happened.  One girl, obviously incredibly nervous, just sat on stage with her Ipod in her ears, closed her eyes, and sang a goregous song a capella while the normally chatty room fell silent to listen.  Another girl, known to me as the bookish overachiever, sang an upbeat Hindi song.  Halfway through, a bunch of her classmates ran up and did a simple dance behind her.  It was so nice to see the support these kids have for each other and to see their talents that aren't always seen in school as being very useful.  Even those middle school boys got a huge applause from the crowd when they finished.  Sometimes, these kids are better people than me.

...I think I like it here.

Glorious weekends are so glorious.

After the never-ending Friday (last post), I ended up sleeping 11 hours.  It was much needed.  After much needed lounging around the house playing much needed mind-numbing computer games, I went to a much needed bonfire down by the dorms.  Well, I suppose any recreation would have done, but the bonfire was nice.  A little bit of Coke and fenny (a nasty coconut liquor they make in Goa- More than the two drops I put in my Coke, and I would have possibly gone blind), and some good conversation were exactly what I needed.  

This morning (Sunday), I headed off to church a bit late.  On the way there, I noticed that it was an especially clear day, and the huge mountains of the Himalayas were clearly visible off in the distance.  Ignoring my watch (not that I have one), I stopped to take pictures.  I don't have the greatest camera, but I don't think the nicest one in the world can do this place justice.  Those of you who know me know that I'm no nature freak, but this view honestly gave me goosebumps.  After church, I strolled over to Char Dukan, the little string of restaurants on the top of the hill often visited by the students.  There I enjoyed a great bun omlette and some pleasant conversation.  On the way back home I took a different way, enjoying the view, the rich people's homes, and a few monkeys climbing up a verdant, green hill (normally I hate them, but they were far enough away to be cute).  

Upon arrival home, I washed a ton of clothes.  Getting creative, I lit my bukhare and hung my wet clothes all around it.

Sitting down on the couch, I ate some waiwai and watched my clothes steam, very satisfied.

Ah, what a great weekend that was.

These are the times that try men's souls...

Oh, Thomas Paine, you've never made more common sense than when you wrote that.  I had a day like that today.  Not unlucky, or bad, or anything like that.  Just trying.  When everything inside of you just is ready to break.  A messy mixture of exhaustion, being around people more than I'm used to, and things just being so far away from what I am comfortable with.  I came home from work at 10PM tonight, after a day of nonstop classes, a 2 hour break at school, and a 4-hour trip to a restaurant in town with the entire 10th grade class.  On the way back, I stumbled across some 9th graders playing a game for their class night (counting my blessings, I'm not camping with 14 year olds tonight).  As they were trying to hide, I heard one of them hiss, "Will you guys just shut the f*** up!?!"  Sigh.  Didn't need that.  In the door, shirt off, pants off, comfortable clothes on, and chug of Mountain Dew (if I were only a drinking man).  See my Bible on my kitchen table, grab it and say aloud, "Save me!"  

It's been a while since I've been at the end of my rope like this.  Not stressed, not upset, not angry.  Tried.

I'd say I've earned a weekend.

General Update

There's a lot going on right now round here. Today is the start of Losar, the Buddhist New Year, so a lot of the Tibetan and Bhutanese kids are dressed up and leaving later to go celebrate. But, this year because of the Chinese crackdown on Tibet this past year, it's a very somber celebration. It's still cool to see a bunch of kids wearing traditional clothes. We also had the counselor speak at assembly yesterday, talking about Ash Wednesday. He culminated by pouring ashes and garbage on his head in mourning of the violence around the world and the pollution of our campus and town. Pretty rockstar prophet stuff, there.

In other news, my classes are going fairly well. I've finally finished covering Hinduism, much to my relief. I won't have to hear constant corrections on my pronounciations and facts. The truth is, Hindus practice their religion in a ton of different ways, so trying to nail concrete things down is tough. If I only taught what was universal to all Hindus, I'd be done in 2 days. I have 6. At least Buddhism is a little more straightforward...

Biggest teaching surprise here (besides the three times a day I get to drink tea) is that i kind of like my ethics class. Apparently none of the kids actually signed up for it, but they seem to half-way enjoy it. I'm getting better at thinking like an ethicist, too. A student told me that he shouldn't do his assignment because they cut down trees to make paper, and I told him that facts don't equal values.

Otherwise, I'm adjusting fairly well here. I've started teaching volleyball to a bunch of middle schoolers once a week, and I've taken up helping organize the Spanish Club.

Hippie Points

Here's how my day went, taking into account Hippie Points, given for doing something hippieish.

Woke up after 6AM: -2 pts

Washed clothes: 0 pts

By hand: 3 pts

Saw a cow while washing clothes: 1 pt

Wanted to feed the cow a tomato: 2 pts

The tomato was rotten and I didn't give it to the cow: -2 pts

Hung some clothes outside to dry: 1 pt

Contemplated a man-purse to carry stuff to and from the bazaar: 1pt

Spent time outside: 2 pts

Because I was watching students: -2 pts

Bought groceries in a respectable store: -3 pts

Bought produce from a nice Sikh man I know named Siddarji: 3 pts

Didn't order any meat: 3 pts

Because I don't like how meat tastes here: -2 pts

Got my groceries delivered: -1 pt

Went into a touristy store: -1 pt

Went to a Tibetan flea market: 1 pt

Made my dinner from packaged ingredients: -1 pt

Didn't understand Hindi: -1 pt

So, I'm 2 points pro-hippie today, which is WAY too many points for me.  I guess it's the nature of living in India (4 points on the hippie life meter).  I'll just have to go pollute something or wear synthetic materials tomorrow.  For now, I'm off to a bonfire at the house of some Canadians. Crap, 4 more points!

MUN

Every Friday, the kids get to take a class in what's called "exploratory block."  They sign up for whichever class suits their tastes.  There's knitting, card games, pottery, classic movies, and so on.  I'm one of the supervisors for the Model United Nations, one of the more popular choices.  A lot of students choose MUN because it's prestigious, looks good on a college application, and they get the chance to travel (not at all like why I chose to advise).

So, today the chairs of the committee I'm advising (environmental protection, woo!), were showing the new kids the procedure for how to speak, interrupt, and so on.  In order to do this, they came up with a fake resolution, sponsored by the delegate from the Netherlands (one of my advisees).  

It went something along these lines:  'The food service provider at Woodstock will be scrapped.  It will be replaced with chefs from the Netherlands, who can imbue the food with a special "salt" from the Netherlands.  These chefs will be paid for by a large cut in the principal's pay.'

Is it time to start weeping for the future?

Rough Day

Bad days are so different here.

Today's schedule

11pm to 7am: Toss and turn, sleeping very little.

7:50am: Trudge to school.

8:15am: Arrive, sit down, and get up again to supervise first study hall. (I believe that study hall supervision is worse than what I imagine camping to be- I don't feel comfortable zoning out into my own work. I feel like I should be supervising the students, despite everyone telling me otherwise)

9:50am: Meet with my immediate supervisor, an amazing, salt-of-the-earth-type woman named Dot from Liverpool. Get told that the way I am structuring my ethics class will lead to disaster (Definitely something I needed to hear, but not something I wanted to hear)

11:00am to 3:30pm: Another study hall, a dismal lunch, and another, final study hall involving myself sneaking off to read a book on Hitchcock.

3:45: Tea time and the end of the school day (the teatime eclairs were a bright spot)

4:00: Prep time for tomorrow's class- summarize the entire book of Acts into one lesson and create a Powerpoint presentation on the cycle of birth and rebirth in Hinduism.

5:45: The walk home

6:00: Encounter the mean, brown-red variety of monkey blocking my path

6:10: Going the other way around, encounter another monkey of the mean, red-brown variety

6:15: Standoff ends when monkey gets grunting reinforcements and I go down to the road

6:25: Arrive home

I'll write about an awesome day soon, I swear. For now, ramen noodles, grilled cheese, and Coke are in my immediate future.

VD Day

Mmm, Valentine's Day.  At least it doesn't fall on a school day, because for the past few years, kids have fancied it an ACTUAL holiday and didn't want to do work.  There's a bit of tension here in India over VD Day, nowadays.  A few weeks ago, a mob of men "protecting Indian culture" dragged women out of pubs in Mangalore and beat them up.  Apparently beating women is part of Indian culture... There have been similar threats for today, that similar mobs will forcefully marry off any couple found canoodling.  In response, there's been a movement to send lacy pink panties to the headquarters of the group.  It's generally equally concerning and entertaining as an outsider.  But, it makes me see just how different America and India generally are.  In America, American culture dominates.  If there's another cultural influence, more often than not, we embrace it (or persecute it, then later embrace it).  Here, they kind of do have to worry about protecting their culture and traditon from the West (there are better ways to do it than basically being a Hindu Taliban, of course).  I think tonight I'll just keep my head down and get some free food at the high school dance.  Free entertainment, too.  Oh, so awkward.  Also, here's some VD humour for you:  http://www.theonion.com/content/opinion/i_wish_id_spent_valentines_day?utm_source=b-section

I awoke this morning to some lightning and thunder. Lying in bed, afraid to expose any skin to the "outside the covers" air, I listened to the sound of the weather. I found it odd that there was no pitter-patter of rain. So, when I got up, I looked out and saw snow. My very first thundersnowstorm!

Vegging out

Gosh, that title is bad. It's like the title of an episode of a sitcom. Anyways, I've decided that I'm only going to cook vegetarian at home. I made arroz con pollo last night and I was feeling really anxious about the raw meat in my kitchen. That, and the chicken tasted like crap. So, send me your good vegetarian recipes: gregorymiller@woodstock.ac.in
On a separate matter, my first day went fine. I'm still getting a feel of the school and the kids, but I don't predict a ton of problems (famous last words?). I'm also now the middle school volleyball coach. Before you start laughing, remember that I got an A in volleyball, and that really, nobody plays volleyball in India. It's a success if I can get them to hit the ball three times AND have it go over the net.

School

It starts tomorrow. My classroom is devoid of decoration. I've worked all day on stuff, and I hope I'm ready, but are you ever really sure that syllabus and rules, handing out books, and an introduction activity will take up the whole time? Should I have my first unit vocabulary ready tomorrow? I don't know!

I've been the new guy learning the ropes for 3 years now. I can't wait to not be new at a school! One more year and I'm there!

3,2,1, contact.

If you'd like to contact me, at the moment there are a few ways:
Email: The school has bandwitdth issues, so they'd like me to use my school email: gregorymiller@woodstock.ac.in
Mail (This would be awesome):
Woodstock School
Mussoorie, Uttarakhand 248179 India
I plan on getting Skype as soon as my computer and my connection in the house start getting along. In the meantime, you should get Skype so we can talk. I'll let you know when it happens.

Coolies

Last night, I got my first delivery of groceries. A very proud moment, although I don't know what one package of stuff is. It's some kind of powder, the package is all in Hindi, and has a picture of some kind of paneer masala-type substance on it. Anyways, it was delivered by a coolie, which is basically a person who carries and moves things for a living. Now, where I am living is not very close to the school, and the school is a fair walk to the bazaar (for me anyway, an out-of-shape lowlander who runs out of breath from peeling an orange at this altitude). So, this guy carried a fairly hefty load on his back up a huge hill (again, to me a big hill) in the dark and I was told not to give him a tip. Just a glass of water. Lame. It's one of those things where I would love to lavish money on guys like this and spread the wealth around like the socialist I am, but I can't. It's just not the way things work. So, to quote Anthony Bourdain when he was in India, "Do you hate your job? Really? Wanna trade?"

First post!

I'm sitting here in a chilly middle school library at my new school. For those who don't know, I'm teaching at Woodstock School in Mussoorie, India. I've had insanely busy days so far, and I will be cutting out a lot of the details about those days (you'll just have to talk to me). But, I'm off to a good start, going through orientation. Yesterday, I bought a toaster, a ton(ne) of groceries, and saw my first giant spider (calling him Monstruo).
I've noticed that this place has a sort of small-town feel to it, or what I would imagine a small-town to be like, having never lived in one. When I pass people on my climb to or from school, I get a "good morning" or a "namaste." Everybody's dang friendly and supportive. Just like a small town, minus the drunk 11 year olds and the meth labs.
It is just about time for lunch (the food so far has been excellent), so I have to go. I'll write more later, te lo juro.
Greggie