Amy in Surreal-land

Today started with a very, very early morning. Somewhere between 3:30 and 4:00 in the morning, I head what sounded like fireworks, bells, and yelling. We later learned that it was the calling to mosque. (At least I didn't have someone pounding on the bed like Jennifer's neighbor.) Needless-to-say, there was no going back to bed. In addition, my stomach was not feeling right. Uh oh. Wouldn't it be ironic if it was the Wendy's from lunch yesterday?

Jen and I were ready to go at 6:00 and left for our free hotel breakfast. It was an amazing spread of Indonesian food, some American food, pastries, breads, fruit, porridge, juices, coffee, tea. We continue to be amazed that we are paying a mere $50.00 a night for our room and we receive free breakfast and eight free movie tickets.

We were told we would be picked up in our lobby at 6:30 am to be taken to our school, MAN Insan Cendekia. Our driver arrived twenty minutes late. (We are getting accustomed to "Indonesian time".) It was probably for the best because I was still having stomach issues. Nothing a little Tums and Pepto Bismal couldn't take care of!

Once our driver arrived, we were on the road to school. We noted the polluted air and observed people wearing surgeon's masks. It's difficult to understand how people can breathe this air all the time. Before long, we arrived at our school and were greeted by a very enthusiastic Yuna who eagerly introduced us to anyone within a mile radius.














MAN Insan Cendekia is a boarding school and students apply from all over the country. I've determined that because of its competitive nature, it obtains some of the best and brightest. The campus is quite large, especially considering there are only 355 students. It appeared to be much nicer physically than the other schools I've visited.

We were introduced to Yuna's principal, whom she explained was nervous to speak English to us so he opted to have Yuna translate. He was clearly excited we were there and asked our permission to videotape us teaching, which we welcomed. After pictures and thanks, we headed to the teacher work room which was fascinating. Every teacher in the school had his/her own cubicle area in which to plan, grade, and relax. It was a fun concept that I think I would enjoy. Easy collaboration and family-oriented. (It might be hard to do with all 100 staff members at my school!)














Next, we headed to Yuna's first class, 10th grade English. Yuna explained at the entrance of the building that we needed to remove our shoes. (We never fully understood why, but we think some people may live in the building and they are trying to avoid dirty hallways?) Laughing, Jen and I (in our long skirts that now dragged on the ground) removed our shoes and pondered what it will be like to teach without shoes on. We would know very shortly.

We waited outside Yuna's classroom door as she prepared her students. The room seemed to buzz with anticipation. We entered to many, many smiling faces. Jen and I hadn't "practiced" anything so it was going to be interesting to see how we would suddenly team teach.

The students were polite and enthusiastic as Jen and I introduced ourselves and ran through several activities with them while teaching them about the United States and California. Participation took prompting, but it didn't take much. We encouraged them to ask questions and were surprised by the complexity of some of their questions, such as: What are the differences between democrats and republicans? What is the difference between British English and American English? Is there really a mafia in the U.S.? How do students from Indonesia get scholarships to American universities? How have things changed in the U.S. since 9/11? What do Americans think of Muslims?














After 60 minutes, we gave the students American flag pencils and it was like we had handed them pieces of gold. Every student grinned from ear to ear while saying, "Thank you, ma'm." We took pictures and they were beside themselves. Some asked to take more photos.
Yuna quickly escorted us out - we had to get to our next class. (Teachers move, not the students in 10th grade.) We got to put our shoes back on and travel to another classroom. On our way there, another teacher stared and commented that I looked "like a colleague's dead wife." I wasn't sure how to respond, but it gave us a good laugh later on. Yuna's students were so happy as we entered. We had more time this period (90 minutes) which was good because we ran out of time during the first class.















This group of students was similar to the first: enthusiastic, cute, smart, and lots of fun. Jen and I noted how much they were like our own students. It felt good to get back in to the saddle of teaching. We even had time to teach some songs, including "This Land is Your Land", "Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes", and the "Chicken Dance" (which many of them knew!). Again, we finished by giving the students gifts - candy wrapped in American flag packaging, which they would have to save until later due to Ramadan. Many of the students whispered about keeping the packaging once they ate the candy. Too cute for words. During our pictures, I put my arm around a young lady. She screamed, "Oh my God! Oh my God!" She leaned in to me; she was that excited about being near me. They all were. Most of the students came up and took my hand to place to their cheeks as a sign of respect and thanks.
After class we headed back to the teacher work room. The teachers were as eager to meet us as the students and it seemed they all wanted a piece of us. Many asked that we come and teach in their classes. One teacher in particular was trying to corner the market and begged that we teach four of her classes. We bargained to two. To our surprise, she asked us to teach a piece of literature, "The Chapel". We agreed thinking there would be plenty we could teach with a short story, although neither of us were familiar with the piece.

Jen and I took our copies over to our work area and started reading. Jen was on the computer when I looked up with horror in my eyes and grabbed her leg. "Oh my God," I said breathlessly. The teacher had asked us to teach a story which included two rapes, a teen pregnancy, a death, all with a touch of racism. This was to be our first lesson with Muslim students we had never met. Jen and I stared at each other with mouths gaping. What do we do??? We explored our options: Go ahead. Talk to Yuna. Find another story. Run.

Cultural differences. Cultural differences. Cultural differences. I had to keep telling myself this and reminded Jen as she started to panic. About that time we were approached by the teacher. I politely told her that we did not feel comfortable with this particular story but we would be happy to teach something like figurative language, grammar, or another story. Confused, she asked why we were not comfortable. Awkwardly, we explained. She was very kind and felt bad as though she had offended us. We quickly made several suggestions and opted to print off "The Gift of the Magi". So, we had transitioned from teaching rape, death, and racism to teaching Christianity... to Muslims.

At this point, we wanted to go, but not before being stopped by two other teachers. One asked that we prepare to teach about the American education system. Another asked that we prepare to teach a report of information on an animal. Flabbergasted, we went to find our car. Reality hit. No more air-conditioned car. A junky 10 person van was our carriage home. All we could do was laugh.

Relieved to be in our hotel, we rested and then went to find a late lunch. As I swallowed my chicken in peanut sauce (one of my favorites), I started to feel human again. We treated ourselves to Chewy Juniors (strange eclairs). Back in the room, I quickly faded and took a life-saving nap. When I woke, Jen and I had to get started on our homework. After all, we had a number of lessons to prepare!






After a couple of hours worth of work, we decided it was time to enjoy ourselves. We took our complimentary movie passes and made our way to the theater to see Batman, a traditional Indonesian film. (ha ha) We opted not to eat dinner and ordered popcorn and fries (with hot sauce) at the theater (although the fish balls were tempting). When we made it to our assigned seats (yes, assigned seating!), we marveled at the fancy chairs and mile of legroom. It was when we watched popcorn and drinks personally delivered on a tray to movie-goers that we confirmed Indonesian film watching was far superior to our own.





The film was fantastic and I temporarily felt like we were in the U.S., but we were exhausted. It was time to walk the ten feet to our hotel (after passing the Indonesian teens breakdancing) and climb in to bed. Tomorrow was to be filled with more unknown adventures and surprises. Who knows? I could be chasing a white rabbit.




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