Kolli sana wa intu bakhayyir! Happy Eid al-Adha to
everyone.
Because of this Muslim holiday, the
whole country (including yours truly) has Wednesday- Monday off of work and
school. Many of my Fulbright peers
decided to travel to Cairo or Turkey over this break, but I instead decided to
take it easy. When Nick visits in December, we’ll be traveling to Palestine,
Israel, Egypt and all over Jordan so I figure it couldn’t hurt to save some
money now by staying in Amman over these 5 days.
I’ve discussed several things in my
previous blog posts, but ironically I haven’t discussed the one thing that I
came here to do: teach. So, let’s get to
it.
TEACHING
For the last two months I have been
teaching at a private high school in an area of Amman called Shmeisani. This private school is also a Christian
school, meaning that the majority of its students are of course Christian.
(Another irony: that I would come to a majority Muslim country, and teach at a
Christian school. Maybe I am innately
drawn to the minority crowd, no matter where I am...) Though to be clear, any student of any
religious affiliation may enroll at the school. There is also a mix of
religions in the faculty and staff, though most teachers are Christians. I also want to point out that even at a
Christian school, students study both Christianity and Islam in their
“Religion” class.
Though the circumstances are
different here than in the United States, I think this is a model that all
schools could follow. (Could it be? The
United States should borrow an idea from the Middle East? Blasphemy!) If it’s
called “Religion” class, then allow students to learn about, well, religion. If
its meant only to study the Christianity, then call it what it is. This also makes me think of a bookstore
called Martha Merrill’s in downtown Waukesha.
I remember going there a few summers ago and stopping in the section
labeled “Religion.” After having taken some classes on Islam at UW-Madison, I
was hoping to expand my knowledge on the topic.
Yet I was puzzled when this “Religion” section contained only books on
Christianity. I completely understand
that businesses are going to carry books that sell. But at the same time, just because Waukesha
is a small and homogenous community doesn’t mean it needs to be a closed off
and ignorant community. So enough about
my beliefs on religious education, but bottom line, reaching out to learn about
communities other than your own in facts makes you more intelligent, not more
prone to become a “terrorist.”
In my
current position, I am a teaching assistant helping once a week in a series of
English classes rather than a teacher responsible for my own daily
classes. I assist classes in the 9th
grade national stream (all classes in Arabic, except for English class), 9th
grade international stream (all classes in English, including sciences, math,
etc), 10 grade national stream, 11th grade national stream and 11th
grade scientific stream (a specialized stream for students interested in
studying the sciences at university). This
set-up has its advantages and disadvantages.
The
greatest advantage is that I have a completely stress free life. As I am an
assistant, I arrive at school every day
15-30 minutes early, review the topic or lesson for the day (chosen by the
teacher) and develop a way in which I will present this information to the
students. This means I take absolutely
nothing home with me. From time to time,
a teacher will ask me to plan a particular lesson at home, but this won’t take
more than 30 minutes of my time in the evening.
Additionally, because I am not a full-time teacher, I am not responsible
for students’ grades. This can also be
attributed to the fact that I am still not fully aware of how grading works for
students here. Either way, this means my evenings and weekends are not bogged
down with ticking boxes on meticulous rubrics and hurriedly updating an online
grading system in fear that parents or administrators will notice that I did
not input the required number of grades for that week.
Another
advantage of this position is that I have the opportunity to work with several
groups of students from differing ability and age levels. In total, I assist in
11 different classes and see around 240 students. Though this is incredibly difficult when it
comes to memorizing names (of course, I’ve easily learned all the really bad
and really good kids’ names), it’s incredible to interact with this number of
kids, or people, for that matter, on a weekly basis. As I tend to see everything in life as an
anthropological experiment (no matter where I am globally), I value this
experience greatly. Not only am I able
to discuss social issues with the various levels and learn the students’
opinions on them, but I am also in a position to push the students to think
beyond what their book tells them or what society may dictate to them. (Yalla,
let’s see how far I can get doing with without being thrown out of the school
or questioned by authorities). Of
course, I do tread lightly because I understand I am a guest in the school and
in this country, but luckily I am at a school where the teachers support the
push for critical thinking.
This brings
me to the interesting point of difference between US/ Jordanian education
systems and disadvantages of being an “assistant” rather than the person
running the show. In some of the classes
that I assist, the main teacher requires all students in all sections to write
the same response to (what in my opinion are) free response questions. This is where I find myself rather
frustrated. Of course, allowing students
the freedom to interpret the story or sentence in their own words requires
quite a bit more time and energy on the teacher’s part in that the teacher must
read through or review each answer individually and decide if it answers the
question thoroughly. And I will admit
that in my two years of teaching in the US, I am guilty of requiring students
to memorize information for multiple choice and short answer exams. But to ask 80 students to all copy the same
response into a question like “Is Person
X a flat or round character? Use examples from the text to support your answer.” completely defeats the purpose of asking
the question in the first place. If you
don’t want children to use their brains, give them a multiple choice
comprehension question.
In fact, I find myself many times
disagreeing with the textbook- or teacher-given answer, but even so, making up
reasons why I support this answer to appear that I side with the main teacher.
I really hate doing this, because it tells students that they should not be
allowed to question something if they fundamentally believe it is wrong. But again, I’m here to assist and observe,
not to uproot and overthrow institutions.
In the same vein, many times the
“lesson plan” for a class period is to complete a specific exercise or set of
exercises in the book. While this is incredibly
easy to plan for (aka no planning needed in the least bit), it’s boring! It’s
boring for me and it’s boring for the kids.
The advanced classes can draw some sort of pleasure out of these
exercises because they are creative and have the ability to make it fun for
themselves. Still, I find it much more fun as an educator to give students a
creative task which allows them to practice the concept at hand, but which also
allows students to work together to come up with something unique. I could ask to plan a class period on my own
and incorporate such a lesson, but being in each class only once or twice each
week, I have to rely on the main teacher to know what to plan. And as far as I’ve experienced here, there is
no such thing as long term planning or daily learning goals as are required by
school administration in the United States. Thus, it makes it difficult for me
to follow what the students should know by the end of the class period, end of
the week, end of the month, etc.
Another difference between the
school where I teach here and the school where I taught in the US is the amount
of technology. This is quite
interesting, as the economic differences in the two schools are great. That is, the school where I teach here is a
private school, with parents paying about $3,000-6,000 for their children to
attend and the school where I used to teach was a public middle school in a
low-income neighborhood. That said, the
technology available to us at Benjamin Stoddert Middle School was far greater than
anything that is available here at the school where I currently teach. Benjamin
Stoddert offered school-wide WiFi, a classroom set of iPads, a laptop for each
teacher, a SmartBoard in most classrooms, an online grading system, a school
email for each teacher, a class set of interactive response remotes for
students, two computer labs and a set of speakers and LCD projector in each
classroom. Here, the best technology
available is a computer lab complete with a class set of computers, an
Interactive white board (similar to a SmartBoard), audio speakers and an LCD
projector. And despite the great differences in technology and in planning, believe
it or not, learning still takes place. I
have several thoughts about this topic, but none that I want to put in writing
just yet. Though I will throw the
question out there… we in the US are throwing millions of dollars at schools
for better technology because we want better educated kids, but are these two
items in fact related?
But on the whole, I am very much
enjoying my placement school and the adults and students with whom I work.
Because I only see the kids once or twice a week, the students still think it’s
a “special treat” when I come to their classes. Whereas last year at this time,
kids were telling me that I looked pregnant, were recommending that I should
try using ProActive acne treatment and were stealing my pens and pencils, my
students now are telling me that they love me, they’ve missed me since the last
class and that they’ll bring me Jordanian dishes like Dajaj Mashi. It’s nice to be loved.
But of course there are kids who
give me a hard time. In fact, I’ve
learned the hard way never to tell a Jordanian student “Zip your lips.” When phrases like, “Eyes up here,” “Close
your mouths,” and “End your conversations!” were not working, I resorted to the slightly meaner phrase “Zip
your lips!” Yet when the class broke out in even greater chaos and disruption,
I changed my phrasing back to strictly “CLOSE YOUR MOUTHS.” At the height of student laughter, I
remembered that I had previously learned that the word for “penis” is “zib.”
And really the difference between “p” and “b” is too small for teenage
boys to consider in a situation like this.
In another situation, a group of 11th
graders were running in the hallways shouting into the 8th grade
classrooms as I was on my way to my 9th grade class. Trying to control the situation, I firmly
told them “Guys, let’s go. You don’t belong here.“ As they passed me, one girl
approached my face, yelling “Teez, teez,
teez, teez, teez…” To me, “teez”
just sounds like an annoying sound so I repeated my previous words until the
kids moved along. The following weekend,
I heard a friend respond “LTEEZEE” to a another friends comment. Hearing that familiar “sound” “teez,” I asked what that meant.
Apparently he was roughly means “MY ASS!”
So the sound “teez” that that delightful young woman was repeating again
and again in my face was not in fact a random noise, it was the word
“ass.” HA HA. Very funny kids.
But really at the end of the day
something that I’ve taken away from this experience is the fact that simply
put, all kids are the same. At private schools, at public schools, in the US,
in Jordan, in Muslim communities, and in Christian communities, you will find
driven kids, kids who don’t care, kids who love their teachers, kids who find
joy in making life difficult for their teachers, kids who enjoy learning, kids
who would rather be playing Play Station, kids who are funny and kind, and kids
who are freaking strange. It doesn’t
take a genius to deduce this, but for some reason, people seem to forget it all
too often. They seem to think that a person
from one part of the world is smarter or more capable than a person from
another part. Or that a life in one area in the world is worth more than a life
in another area of the world. Or they seem to think that people with a certain
set of beliefs are better than people with another set of beliefs. Really America, if you think you are superior
to others around the world, then please try to use your brain in a superior
way. What makes the United States such
an incredible place to live is the fact that you can believe whatever you want
and live your life in whichever way you choose, and still be able to pursue
your goals, dreams, aspirations, etc. So in fact it is counterintuitive for the
“freedom-loving” Americans to think that the US is better than other countries
while actually judging those countries.
VOLUNTEERING
In other news, I’ve begun volunteering
at a social services center at a Palestinian Refugee Camp called Baqa’a. This “camp” was constructed to house refugees
of the 1967 War and was originally a colony of tents set up in a desert outside
of Amman. Today the tents have been turned into more permanent structures and
the camp has been almost swallowed by the city of Amman, as it is now located
on the northeastern outskirts. Though the living structures have progressed
from tents to concrete buildings, the community has in many ways remained stagnant
over the 40 years since its creation.
Its people’s demand for education, medical services and sanitation has
far outgrown the actual services provided.
I don’t pretend to be an expert on this topic and in fact know very
little about the community’s needs and challenges. However, when a fellow
Fulbrighter asked for help during her classes on Saturdays, I gladly
volunteered, as gaining a deeper understanding in the struggle of the Palestinian
diaspora has been an interest of mine for quite some time.
So far I have only been to the camp
a few times, but I intend to go each Saturday to teach two-three English
classes for students ranging from age 4-30. Even the few times I have gone, it
has been a highly rewarding experience for a variety of reasons. First of all,
I am able to connect with a community whose displacement I feel the United
States has contributed to. (And if not a
role in their previous displacement, then perhaps in their current
marginalization in terms of the United States’ blind and relative unwavering
support for the state of Israel’s policies racist and war-mongering policies) I
hope that I of course can help equip my students with the English skills that
will allow them to compete for future economic prospects. But more importantly,
It is my hope that the kids with whom I interact will remember “that one
American teacher” they had as someone who cared about them and as someone who
did her best to help them realize their goals.
In the end, and maybe not until many years down the road, they will be
able to recognize that the world is not black and white, organized into simple
love and hate relationships. Instead it
is gray and speckled with anomalies, forming a bigger picture that no one else
can dictate to them and that only they can paint for themselves.
I additionally find this to be a
rewarding experience because it absolutely forces me to use Arabic, no matter
how awful or wrong it is. The staff at
this social service center does not speak English, and the younger students who
come to the English class do not speak English either. Of course they know
colors and how to introduce themselves, but when it comes to understanding
instructions or complete sentences, no luck.
So in addition to the challenges of teaching a class where each student
is at a vastly different level, there is the additional challenge of teaching
an entire class in Arabic. Even writing that sentence makes me chuckle to
myself. I can’t imagine how dumb I look and sound in front of this group of
kids, spouting off a series of words until I get to one that they seem to
understand. But at the end of the day, the kids are able to produce what I ask
them to and all leave the class with a smile on their face.
Another reason enjoy teaching at
Baqa’a because it allows me to leave the bubble of West Amman to which I have mostly
limited myself. Just by nature of where I live, where I work, the people I meet
and the places I hang out, I spend most, if not all, of my time in “upper
class” places. And while of course this
is a nice lifestyle to maintain, I did not come to Jordan to learn how rich
people live (though this is an interesting topic to be honest, and one that I
will discuss later). Going to Baqa’a
allows me to gain an understanding of what life is it is like for a much
broader range of socioeconomic classes here.
When I tell colleagues or peers that I go to Baqa’a every weekend and
take a public bus to get there, their eyes grow wide in disbelief. Most people
from West Amman cannot understand my desire to go to a community they consider
dangerous and dirty or my carefree attitude when it comes to taking public
transport where I may be mingling with “low class people.” While some readers
may gasp or shake their heads in disgust at such a comment, I think we need to
again look inward and draw parallels to our own communities. When I hear people make these comments
concerning Baqa’a/ West Amman, I cannot help but to draw parallels between
places like Waukesha/ Milwaukee or NW DC/ Anacostia. Places that are all so geographically so
near, but socioeconomically so far from one another. Places where people live in comfort and
excess on one hand, but in distress and squalor on the other. We think that we need to travel the globe to
help people in need, when in fact this idea leads us to ignore the people in
our own cities and states who are suffering.
And if our desire really is to help, it is these people just across the
river or down the highway with whom we could have a greater impact and closer
connection. But too many times our
interest in staying “safe and sound” in our own communities or buying into the
idea that that “you found your own success, so why can’t they,” prevents us
from reaching out to those who live literally just down the road and prevents
us from making the place we live better not just for “us,” but for “them,”
too.
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