It's Not the Only One

The wall: I see it everyday. A giant gray testament to the division so obviously present in this part of the world. Its ugly, cold, heartless existence reminds me daily that all is not well in the world. Harmony, love, peace—sounds like a naive fantasy.

I was at book club the other day. I didn’t read the book. But hey, I still feel like the new kid and wanted to make friends. So, when one of the other teachers invited me, I went. I love meeting new people and I love talking about books. It sounded fun. They were reading Go Set a Watchmen, Harper Lee’s new/ old book. It is all about racism, segregation, the ugliness of division. As we sat there and discussed the tragic, violent injustice that was present in the United States not so long ago, we began talking about divisions between people.

The woman sitting at the end of the table profoundly remarked “that wall that surrounds us is not the only wall here.” She’s so right. I see racial, religious, and political walls. And not just here, everywhere; this division between people is not a here problem. It’s a people problem. And it’s not a them problem. It’s a me problem.

I put up walls. I watch others put up walls as well. But, my job is not to tear their walls down. (I am an oldest child, naturally I love telling people exactly how they should start demolishing their walls. It’s not my fault I’m bossy, read The Birth Order Book.)

I want to tell others to stop reinforcing their walls. “Stop the division!” I want to say, yet I find myself compulsively trying to label people: Is that person a Muslim, a Jew or a Christian? “Stop the judgement!” I cry. Too often I catch myself casting judgement on complete strangers: Why does that woman bother covering her head if her jeans are skintight? “Stop the hate!” I scream. But why do I feel that nasty twisted knot in my heart when someone says something that I think is ignorant?

Division. Judgement. Hate.

How can I expect others to tear their walls down when I keep building and bolstering my own? So, I am going to pray for the strength to put my bricks down—to stop building walls of judgement, hate and fear. Only God can bring unity. Only He can empower us to put the bricks down. So, take a look around. Ask Him to show you.

Do you see the walls?

The Land of No Netflix

So I stumbled upon this today. WHAT???

Training

This week formal teacher training started. We talked about lesson planning, communication, discipline, etc. To tell you the truth I was kind of dreading the meetings before the week started. We had to sit in a hot room (it was over 100 degrees Fahrenheit outside) with only two fans to keep all of us from melting. Given the topic, I assumed that the week would consist of quiet, predictable meetings that would review relatively familiar information. It wasn’t.

We did review information that was familiar, but the meetings were anything but quiet and predictable. They were hilarious, bilingual, loud, often tangential conversations that illuminated a world of difference between American and Arab culture.

Ok so I am obviously not an expert on Arab culture. But throughout teacher training the differences between the European/American cultural norms and Arab cultural norms were very stark at times. For example, today we were talking about being clear and concise in instruction. For all of us foreigners this seemed like a straight forward requirement. When the translator began telling everyone about clarity and conciseness in Arabic, however, all of the Arab teachers began speaking at once. They proceeded to all go around and discuss the exact definition of each word, how it was beneficial, and how they felt they would implement it in their classroom. This was the norm for every topic we discussed. I chose this example because I think it is particularly funny that our discussion on “clear and concise” was really neither clear nor concise.

The hilarity of the situation increased when I realized the obvious contrast between the American/European teachers and the Arab teachers. The non-Arab teachers were quiet and did not interject ideas without first politely raising their hand or waiting for a precious millisecond of silence. (as one of 8 children I have to admit this whole dynamic was way too familiar—it brought me back to many dinner table discussions and spirited debates). As the week progressed the group dynamics began to change. Some of us non-Arabs even began to feel the freedom of unrestrained interjection. This added to the chaos. But hey we all felt heard. So that’s probably a good thing.

During the meetings we watched instructional videos, made by the school director, in order to introduce topics and glean an understanding of school procedures and culture. While the concepts of these videos seemed easy enough to grasp, every person felt the need to comment and discuss every point made in the video. An 8 minute video took us over an hour to watch due to stopping for translation and inevitably diverging into discussion of a vaguely related topic. The whole scene was a humorous conglomeration of Arabic and English whirling around a hot, sticky classroom filled with talkative, opinionated teachers. It was beautiful chaos.

At times the constant commentary, questions, and outbursts seemed counter-productive or frustrating, but there was something about the atmosphere of the room that I enjoyed. All of the hullabaloo revealed that the teachers really cared about learning, teaching, and succeeding at their jobs. We all want to create nurturing, beneficial learning environments where the students will thrive and grow to love learning. The constant comments and questions were not selfish or prideful. About 50% of  the time the discussion was about how to more accurately translate a word into Arabic (this is my favorite part of the discussion, I feel wonderfully lost until I recognize a random word—recognizing a random word in a foreign language when people are speaking a million miles an hour around you is one of the most satisfying things ever). The other half of the time the teachers were discussing the benefits and or pitfalls of certain teaching methods, modes of communication or discipline procedures.

The chaotic discussion also revealed to me the deeply relational and emotional nature of arab culture. Discussion is important. Everyone is allowed to voice their unfiltered opinion and or criticize someone else’s suggestion. And no one is offended. (or at least they don’t seem to be). The open, unfiltered discussion is refreshing. Everyone has a voice and is entitled to offer their own ideas for group revision. This communal brainstorming is a lot of fun for me. You get to learn how others think and process ideas. You also discover different individual values as well as cultural norms based on each person’s suggestions. It is really fascinating.

Two worlds sharing one space. "The Place Where Nothing Makes Sense"

Qahwa Sadah

Approximately three weeks ago I agreed to move to Palestine and teach at an english speaking elementary school. I didn't think through all of the logistics, but it sounded like an adventure. So, here I am. Living in Palestine. 

My first day was chaotic, hot, exhausting, and wonderful. 

After two long flights and too little sleep I finally got to see Bethlehem. It is mostly brown and desert like. Although I am told that it gets really green in the winter and spring. I am constantly surrounded by Arabic language and commotion. I love it. While it seems overwhelming at times, I am constantly reminding myself to be grateful for the constant cultural immersion. I hope to start taking language lessons soon. The constant conversations in Arabic should help me learn faster. right? 

Many of the other teachers at the academy are from Palestine. They have all graciously promised to help me learn arabic. I already failed miserably at pronouncing simple words. I accidentally said something offensive and the girl who was trying to help me pronounce the word started laughing at me. But she patiently continued teaching me little phrases and words. I don't remember most of them off the top of my head. But I have only been here two days. So I think I can give myself a break. I do remember the word for coffee--qahwa sadah.

Speaking of coffee. It is one of my favorite things. I went to several stores today and at each one, we were offered coffee. Arabic coffee. Little shots of extremely strong black coffee. It was so good. I think I can get used to this. Coffee here is a symbol of hospitality. I believe that hospitality is extremely important. It is a way to treat others better than yourself. To put someone else's comforts above your own. This is exactly how God wants us all to live. So, the small act of offering coffee meant so much to me. It is a wordless expression of acceptance and kindness.