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.