I have officially moved my blog over to Korbay Delay! {CLICK HERE} Go have a look and let me know what you'd like to know about living and teaching in Bhutan!
Monday, 6 April 2015
Thursday, 2 April 2015
Mistakes
Mistakes are a part of learning. In fact, I feel you learn even better if you make a mistake. The children in my village struggle with this concept so much! They are so afraid to make mistakes and they won't even try in fear of getting the answer wrong. I've been trying to brainwash them into thinking mistakes are good by saying every single day: It's okay not to know, but it's not okay not to try. Every. Single. Day. Over and over like a broken record. I heard a knock on my door while cooking dinner last night and outside stood four children with their English notebooks looking expectant. "Madam, we want to talk to you about our doubts." I didn't quite understand and after some explaining I realised they were admitting that they did not understand what I had taught that morning. I can't even tell you how happy I was! I walked into the classroom today and told all of the children how proud I was of the children who were brave enough to tell me they didn't know something. I then revised and retaught what they were struggling with. These big breakthroughs seem to be happening more and more frequently and it feels like their progress is execrating at a rapid pace.
They say when you teach you are like a mother (or father) to many children at once. I have always thought I felt this way because I have always loved the children I teach, but today I experienced motherhood like never before. A child of mine walked past me covering his face and although he is normally first to greet me, he walked away quickly without a word. I was ignored even when I called out to him and he continued to make his way towards the principals courters. I watched him from afar. He seemed to be crying while trying to compose himself and debating whether to enter the principals home or not. I couldn't watch his suffering any longer and walked towards him, calling him nearer. "What happened?" He burst into tears. "A boy in Class 8 beat me." The children fight here often, but this was different. The fighting and hitting of one another is something that is accepted here and although the children get into trouble when they are caught, few of them ever admit that it ever happens. This particular boy was always so cheerful and it would take a lot to upset him this much. I literally felt my blood boil like never before. Rage clouded my vision and all I could see was red. "Show me who did it." I am not proud of my uncontrolled emotions and the anger that I experienced. But my protective instinct took over every part of my being. I am sure the Class 8 boy could sense my raging anger and there was no doubt on his part - he knew he would never be able to lay a finger on any child I teach again. There was no need for shouting, just a simple: Lay a hand on any of my children again and you will go straight to the police for assault and be put up for expulsion. I still take the severity of these heavy loaded words seriously, and would follow through with them if I had to. I walked away before the tears ran.
My Class V's have been begging me to go on a picnic since the first day I arrived. The whole class of 45 students had planned to go but we had to cancel as I was asked to go to the temple with the other teachers. We finished early and I quickly tried to gather as many children as I could for the picnic. I am so thankful that there were only 10 children in the end because they took us walking through dense forest and I was so worried some of the children might fall the entire way down - Talk about motherhood! They seemed to cope far better than me who was slipping and sliding in the sandals I so cleverly decided to wear. They pointed out their local "park" which consisted of a large rock in the shape of a slide, all of the children had a go and they coaxed me into doing it as well. One child mentioned that they have real parks in the capital city and she seemed totally mesmerised at the thought of there being a place devoted just to playing. How lucky the children are back in South Africa! We sat along the banks of our village river and Dylan and I watched as the children made sandcastles in the sand. I found this so amazing, we didn't have to tell them what to do or entertain them at all. We watched and they created their own fun, having us there was simply enough. I sat on my rock and watched all of my children - acknowledging my emotions completely, I really and truly see them as MY children and I honestly love them all so much. Even if they drive me crazy sometimes. They also bought Dylan and I our own packed lunch of rice and curry. It took forever to get them to all sit down and eat because they were having so much fun just playing in the sand.
All of this in one day! I am learning more and more each day about my true purpose here in this Himalayan Kingdom.
P.S. Thank you Dylan for the photos!
They say when you teach you are like a mother (or father) to many children at once. I have always thought I felt this way because I have always loved the children I teach, but today I experienced motherhood like never before. A child of mine walked past me covering his face and although he is normally first to greet me, he walked away quickly without a word. I was ignored even when I called out to him and he continued to make his way towards the principals courters. I watched him from afar. He seemed to be crying while trying to compose himself and debating whether to enter the principals home or not. I couldn't watch his suffering any longer and walked towards him, calling him nearer. "What happened?" He burst into tears. "A boy in Class 8 beat me." The children fight here often, but this was different. The fighting and hitting of one another is something that is accepted here and although the children get into trouble when they are caught, few of them ever admit that it ever happens. This particular boy was always so cheerful and it would take a lot to upset him this much. I literally felt my blood boil like never before. Rage clouded my vision and all I could see was red. "Show me who did it." I am not proud of my uncontrolled emotions and the anger that I experienced. But my protective instinct took over every part of my being. I am sure the Class 8 boy could sense my raging anger and there was no doubt on his part - he knew he would never be able to lay a finger on any child I teach again. There was no need for shouting, just a simple: Lay a hand on any of my children again and you will go straight to the police for assault and be put up for expulsion. I still take the severity of these heavy loaded words seriously, and would follow through with them if I had to. I walked away before the tears ran.
My Class V's have been begging me to go on a picnic since the first day I arrived. The whole class of 45 students had planned to go but we had to cancel as I was asked to go to the temple with the other teachers. We finished early and I quickly tried to gather as many children as I could for the picnic. I am so thankful that there were only 10 children in the end because they took us walking through dense forest and I was so worried some of the children might fall the entire way down - Talk about motherhood! They seemed to cope far better than me who was slipping and sliding in the sandals I so cleverly decided to wear. They pointed out their local "park" which consisted of a large rock in the shape of a slide, all of the children had a go and they coaxed me into doing it as well. One child mentioned that they have real parks in the capital city and she seemed totally mesmerised at the thought of there being a place devoted just to playing. How lucky the children are back in South Africa! We sat along the banks of our village river and Dylan and I watched as the children made sandcastles in the sand. I found this so amazing, we didn't have to tell them what to do or entertain them at all. We watched and they created their own fun, having us there was simply enough. I sat on my rock and watched all of my children - acknowledging my emotions completely, I really and truly see them as MY children and I honestly love them all so much. Even if they drive me crazy sometimes. They also bought Dylan and I our own packed lunch of rice and curry. It took forever to get them to all sit down and eat because they were having so much fun just playing in the sand.
All of this in one day! I am learning more and more each day about my true purpose here in this Himalayan Kingdom.
P.S. Thank you Dylan for the photos!
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| The "slide" |
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| My Turn! |
Thursday, 26 March 2015
Picasso in Bhutan
Ever since I can remember drawing has been my greatest joy (singing comes at a close second, but more on that later). When my sister got Barbie Dolls for Christmas and birthdays, I got drawing books and stationery. Stationery shopping at the beginning of every year for school was literally the highlight of my year. I always had to have the best pencil crayons and looked after these precious items as if they were gold. Because I was the eldest of my family (cousins included) I was always developmentally far ahead of any of the other children. This meant I was naturally able to draw a lot better and write neater. Even though I realise this now, I honestly believed I was so talented. I thought I could draw so well and I would show anyone and everyone my masterpieces.
When I got to school and began art classes with the rest of the children my age I began to shy away from my much loved hobby. This wasn't because I thought my drawings were worse than the others but rather because my art teacher decided that art and drawing should be done in a certain way - her way. I stopped drawing for the duration of my primary years at school and envied all the other children who were able to "draw well". I can't remember the reason I started drawing in high school. I remember wanting to be able to draw well and so I did. I know many people believe they cannot draw but on that day in Technology period I decided I would sketch, and I did. And I did it well. My love of drawing and art was rekindled. And the next year we were able to choose subjects and although I thought that art may not be a wise choice when thinking about my future studies and careers, I really wanted to do it so bad that I didn't care. You have to do a sketch test before you are able to take art as a subject. I sat in the art room with the shell I was given and poured my heart and soul into my drawing. A few days later I found my name on the list of the students who were chosen for art. I had made it.
It turns out that my love for stationery, drawing and school decided my future career for me. And, an art subject is exactly what I needed for my studies to be a primary teacher. I feel you need your creativity when teaching young children and here in Bhutan I need it even more. The BFC teacher who was here last year majored in art while studying in Australia and naturally he decided to begin an Art Club at the school. When I began at teaching here the first thing they asked me is if I would be willing to continue it. Although I was a bit hesitant to begin teaching art formally, I feel that I have been able to give these children so much through doing it.
Each teacher has to campaign in front of the entire school to inform the children about what the club will entail. There is an Art Club, Democracy Club, Math Club, Literacy Club and Scouts. After the campaigns the students are requested to line up at the club teacher in order to join, and this is on a first come first serve basis. I originally planned to have 20 students in my club and walked down to my portion of the field to await the students who would want to join the Art Club. I can easily say that there were more than 60 students surrounding me from every angle. A mass mob ran towards me trying to get their name down on my list for Art Club. They pushed and shoved, all desperate to be a part of the 20 members who would form the Art Club. Other teachers tried to help but no child would leave. Who would I send away when they were so desperate?
We decided that Class IV, V and VI students would be allowed to join Art Club and the rest would find others. I now have over 40 children in my club and although I thought it would be total chaos it is the total opposite. They listen to my every word and focus all of their attention when creating their art works. The first words that left my mouth on the first day was a reminder that in art there is no right or wrong, everyone is good at art and everyone is different. The more different your art is, the better. We have began with Picasso Portraits and this concept is so difficult for them. Not because they didn't understand Picasso, but they couldn't draw themselves differently. They struggled so much to paint their faces blue or red in fear of it being wrong. I'm happy to say that the prospect of painting helped them a long way. They were so excited to paint! They completely forgot my instructions when they got to the paint table but alas, they painted their faces blue and red and green! While one boy was painting I heard him mumble "I am so happy" to himself. He literally said that to himself, and he said it in English! I had to turn away for a few moments to regain my composure in fear of balling my eyes out on the spot.
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| Finished Picasso Portraits |
There are many students in my English classes who can't speak a word English. I found one of these boys hanging on the bars of the art club windows (many children do this to watch what we are doing - its honestly so sad!). I asked him what club he was in and he wasn't able to answer me, so I asked another boy to translate. "No club, Madam" was his reply. I was very confused. What did he mean? Every child from Class IV and up had to be in a club. I made a decision on the spot. "Do you want to join the Art Club?" This he completely understood and no translation was needed. He attended the Art Club the following week and he stayed behind once all the other children had left to help me pack away the chairs and art materials. He now speaks English in all of my classes and although his sentences are completely broken, he doesn't utter a word in any other language whilst in my presence. I feel like these milestones are huge and no where else am I able to see improvements so quickly. In Bhutan I feel I am easily able to see the difference I make in these children's lives. Even though the things I do come naturally, the response from the children is overwhelming. I love that I am able to do this for them and that I get to experience their joy everyday. Everyday I am reminded why I became a teacher.
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| Climbing the bars to take a peek |
Thursday, 19 March 2015
Crayons and Figs for Lunch
"Madam, Madam! He eat my crayon!" A Class III girl points to the suspect.
"Oh dear, are you eating her crayon? Are you hungry?"
"No Madam, I didn't" His guilty expression and green stained mouth reveals the truth.
"Then why is your mouth green and the end of the green crayon gone? Are you trying to turn into the Hulk? Are you hungry - do you want some of the red crayon, too?"
I hand him the red crayon and see a small smile which immediately follows his hands covering his face. And then - Laughter! So much laughter. The entire class actually understands what I am saying and they get my joke completely. This is a big deal.
Everyday I walk into the Class III classroom and am greeted with "Good Morning, Madam!" as each and every child stands. They all take their seats in their too small stools when I instruct them to and then one of the children will usually shout out "Sing, Madam!". I first began singing with the children two weeks ago when I realised that in the second last period of the day at around 2 o'clock these children were never going to be able to concentrate on the too difficult curriculum I had to teach them. They were completely exhausted. I stood in front of them and burst into song - The Hokey Pokey was my first choice and they couldn't get enough of it. We still sing it every single day. Upon leaving the classroom the children are expected to stand and say in unison, "Thank you, Madam!" but this time was different. They all shouted "thank you!" beaming from ear to ear waving at me profusely. I had them hooked.
There aren't nearly enough reading books and the children have to share one small reader between four of them. The books are already too difficult and not being able to follow the words just makes it worse. I've now taken to rewriting the books out on chart paper which is a lengthy process, but seems to be working far better than the few readers which need to be shared out. The children are unable to read them independently and so I take on a shared reading approach. For every class we now move all of the chairs and tables out of the way and make room for the children to sit on the concrete floor in front of me. They each have their special spot on the floor and this way we are all able to read and focus on the story together. I point to the words and they read along with me. I think they love that it is different from their other classes and that they get to be out of their seats for a small portion of the day.
I had to meet Dylan in Trashigang after school one Saturday afternoon and was not looking forward to having to search for a taxi - you have to wait for the taxi to fill up with passengers before it leaves, or you can pay the hefty fee to hire out the taxi for just yourself. After school I asked two of my Class V girls to help me catch a lift which of course they were more than willing to do. They walked me home and picked me ripe figs off the nearby tree. They broke them open and handed me two, warning me not to eat the skin as I would get "very sick". Upon reaching my house the girls instructed me to go inside to get my bags while they waited by the road. Their curiosity soon got the better of them and it wasn't long before I heard a knock on my door and found the two girls waiting outside. After drinking some juice and the girls looking through my home to see how their "Chillip teacher" lived, we started our journey in search of a lift for Madam Megan. This mainly involved me sitting on a bench under a tree while the girls bolted to the side of the road whenever they saw a car coming, waving like mad trying to get the drivers attention. I'm happy to say that it didn't take too long for a ride to appear and I got into the truck forever grateful to my little friends. They looked so happy as I waved goodbye from the front seat - so glad to have been the chosen ones to help their teacher in need. God, I love them!
The distance from Rangjung to Trashigang is only 17km but this drive taught me so much. I saw many of my Class III, IV and V kids walking along the side of the road and soon realised that these children were walking home. At first I really admired them for walking such a distance every day, but after 7km into the drive all I felt was guilt. These children walk to school 7km (or more) every morning and then again after their school day they need to walk back home after 4pm. These 7km also involve mountains, hills and rugged terrain and they complete their journey with a heavy school bag full of books! I suddenly felt really bad for questioning them on why their homework was never done. These children are likely to get home very late and I'm sure after a 7km walk and a full day at school, homework is the last thing on their minds.
I had a breakthrough with my Class III's today. We are meant to be reading a book about a demon boy who tries to trick a boy's family into believing he is the real son (Yes, it is really disturbing!). Anyways, I got the children to write their own ghost stories and showed them a halloween picture which obviously is totally unfamiliar to them. They came up with such great ideas and they were so excited to talk about the picture I almost wanted to cry I was so excited! Apparently the children in their halloween costumes are carrying bags of vegetables to the palace (supposed to be candy and a haunted house) to find chocolates - I got them to write their own ending to the story and they drew their own pictures. I laughed so hard reading their stories and their endings ranging from the children running away to them feeding the vegetables to the demon. I'm so grateful that the kids are finally thinking outside the square box they have been placed in and that they are willing to be creative. I can't wait to see where they are a year from now!
"Oh dear, are you eating her crayon? Are you hungry?"
"No Madam, I didn't" His guilty expression and green stained mouth reveals the truth.
"Then why is your mouth green and the end of the green crayon gone? Are you trying to turn into the Hulk? Are you hungry - do you want some of the red crayon, too?"
I hand him the red crayon and see a small smile which immediately follows his hands covering his face. And then - Laughter! So much laughter. The entire class actually understands what I am saying and they get my joke completely. This is a big deal.
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| Class III Cuties |
There aren't nearly enough reading books and the children have to share one small reader between four of them. The books are already too difficult and not being able to follow the words just makes it worse. I've now taken to rewriting the books out on chart paper which is a lengthy process, but seems to be working far better than the few readers which need to be shared out. The children are unable to read them independently and so I take on a shared reading approach. For every class we now move all of the chairs and tables out of the way and make room for the children to sit on the concrete floor in front of me. They each have their special spot on the floor and this way we are all able to read and focus on the story together. I point to the words and they read along with me. I think they love that it is different from their other classes and that they get to be out of their seats for a small portion of the day.
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| Walking home with my "bodyguards" |
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| Class V: Working on the road with pick axes and all! |
I had to meet Dylan in Trashigang after school one Saturday afternoon and was not looking forward to having to search for a taxi - you have to wait for the taxi to fill up with passengers before it leaves, or you can pay the hefty fee to hire out the taxi for just yourself. After school I asked two of my Class V girls to help me catch a lift which of course they were more than willing to do. They walked me home and picked me ripe figs off the nearby tree. They broke them open and handed me two, warning me not to eat the skin as I would get "very sick". Upon reaching my house the girls instructed me to go inside to get my bags while they waited by the road. Their curiosity soon got the better of them and it wasn't long before I heard a knock on my door and found the two girls waiting outside. After drinking some juice and the girls looking through my home to see how their "Chillip teacher" lived, we started our journey in search of a lift for Madam Megan. This mainly involved me sitting on a bench under a tree while the girls bolted to the side of the road whenever they saw a car coming, waving like mad trying to get the drivers attention. I'm happy to say that it didn't take too long for a ride to appear and I got into the truck forever grateful to my little friends. They looked so happy as I waved goodbye from the front seat - so glad to have been the chosen ones to help their teacher in need. God, I love them!
The distance from Rangjung to Trashigang is only 17km but this drive taught me so much. I saw many of my Class III, IV and V kids walking along the side of the road and soon realised that these children were walking home. At first I really admired them for walking such a distance every day, but after 7km into the drive all I felt was guilt. These children walk to school 7km (or more) every morning and then again after their school day they need to walk back home after 4pm. These 7km also involve mountains, hills and rugged terrain and they complete their journey with a heavy school bag full of books! I suddenly felt really bad for questioning them on why their homework was never done. These children are likely to get home very late and I'm sure after a 7km walk and a full day at school, homework is the last thing on their minds.
I had a breakthrough with my Class III's today. We are meant to be reading a book about a demon boy who tries to trick a boy's family into believing he is the real son (Yes, it is really disturbing!). Anyways, I got the children to write their own ghost stories and showed them a halloween picture which obviously is totally unfamiliar to them. They came up with such great ideas and they were so excited to talk about the picture I almost wanted to cry I was so excited! Apparently the children in their halloween costumes are carrying bags of vegetables to the palace (supposed to be candy and a haunted house) to find chocolates - I got them to write their own ending to the story and they drew their own pictures. I laughed so hard reading their stories and their endings ranging from the children running away to them feeding the vegetables to the demon. I'm so grateful that the kids are finally thinking outside the square box they have been placed in and that they are willing to be creative. I can't wait to see where they are a year from now!
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| The beautiful walk to school |
Thursday, 12 March 2015
Teaching in Rangjung: Part I
My intention for this post is everything opposite of negative but there I are some hard truths that I've had to face coming here. I really believe moving to Bhutan was not entirely my own choosing, but rather the universe sending me here for a reason. I am still in the process of discovering my entire purpose. These are my beginning reflections.
I've been teaching here in Bhutan for about a month now. In the beginning everything was so different and I really struggled because of the expectations I had before I came here. I think life was trying to teach me yet again that you should have no expectations, it only sets you up for disappointment - this always seems to happen to me whenever I start to forget this basic principle! Above all else I thought that the Bhutanese children were going to be exceptionally well behaved because of the strict discipline in this country. I thought I would have to fight to get them to speak but it was really the opposite - the only problem was that they weren't speaking English and I had no idea what they were saying! The children would mock each other and laugh when someone got something wrong, I really had to work hard to get them to understand that this really wasn't okay and I would not allow it in my classrooms. They didn't understand positive reinforcement or praise at all and looked at me like I was a crazy person for noticing their efforts.
There is a need to be acknowledged here so great that the children shout out "Madam! Madam!" when they know an answer to a question. This means I have 40 children shouting "Madam!" at me fighting for any recognition. It was so distracting and made such a noise that I am surprised any of the children could think of the answer in the first place. It was really difficult to get them to understand that the recognition would come even if they waited their turn, that I had enough love and praise for each and every one of them. And that everyone needed to use their own brain to think while the others waited to give me their answers. I thought that there would be so much patience and calmness but I am finding myself teaching even these basic concepts to the children. I am teaching them that it isn't a race to get into the classroom or to be the first to know an answer, teaching them not to slap each other in the face for no particular reason and teaching them that I will never ever beat them even if they make a mistake or steal the chalk and magnets I bring into the classroom.
I also did not expect the children's level of English to be as bad as it is, especially after reading through the curriculum textbooks I was given. They are expected to be able to know all the normal things a first language speaker should and although this is not impossible they don't have the foundational understanding from their lower grades to be able to. I walked into my classrooms on the first day fully prepared to teach what was expected of me and the children had no idea what I was saying. They could read and copy answers found in the text, but ask them their own opinion and they were totally lost. They were able to read a load of words but had absolutely no idea what they meant and if they hadn't learned the word previously they had no way of figuring out what it could be. I realised that these children were hardly ever given a chance to really think for themselves and not one child would answer any of my thought provoking questions in fear of getting them wrong.
The children here need so much love. I know that all children do but here they really, really need it. Every morning in assembly I stand in front of the school and while everyone goes about their normal speeches and announcements I project love to every single child for the entire twenty minutes. I visualise love pouring out every inch of my being and flowing over each child. I know that sounds incredibly hippie but I only teach a small portion of the school and they all need love so much because they really don't get it. I walked into my Class IV classroom during my first week emotional meltdown, looked at each child and told them I loved them. I stood there told them I loved them and was met with completely blank and confused expressions. This was obviously the first time a teacher had ever told them this, or had ever loved them to begin with.
I felt completely defeated for the first few days but I am glad to say that in time my defeat turned into determination. I realised how much I could give these children, I realised that I could make them love school and learning and now it has become my mission. The actual curriculum takes up small portions of my lessons and the rest is filled with conversations and singing and dancing and learning about Letter Land. My Class V's are learning about Annie Apple and Golden Girl because they have no way of reading words they don't know and phonics has never been taught to them, and they love it!
In the first few weeks I found myself looking at this mountainous task with dread. But now I find myself so emotionally rooted at my new school and afraid to ever leave in fear of what might happen to these precious beings. They are starting to get me, to get my ways and they are starting to trust me. This feels like a small achievement but one I am happy with for the time being. I absolutely love teaching these children!
I've been teaching here in Bhutan for about a month now. In the beginning everything was so different and I really struggled because of the expectations I had before I came here. I think life was trying to teach me yet again that you should have no expectations, it only sets you up for disappointment - this always seems to happen to me whenever I start to forget this basic principle! Above all else I thought that the Bhutanese children were going to be exceptionally well behaved because of the strict discipline in this country. I thought I would have to fight to get them to speak but it was really the opposite - the only problem was that they weren't speaking English and I had no idea what they were saying! The children would mock each other and laugh when someone got something wrong, I really had to work hard to get them to understand that this really wasn't okay and I would not allow it in my classrooms. They didn't understand positive reinforcement or praise at all and looked at me like I was a crazy person for noticing their efforts.
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| Art Club |
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| Smiling Faces |
There is a need to be acknowledged here so great that the children shout out "Madam! Madam!" when they know an answer to a question. This means I have 40 children shouting "Madam!" at me fighting for any recognition. It was so distracting and made such a noise that I am surprised any of the children could think of the answer in the first place. It was really difficult to get them to understand that the recognition would come even if they waited their turn, that I had enough love and praise for each and every one of them. And that everyone needed to use their own brain to think while the others waited to give me their answers. I thought that there would be so much patience and calmness but I am finding myself teaching even these basic concepts to the children. I am teaching them that it isn't a race to get into the classroom or to be the first to know an answer, teaching them not to slap each other in the face for no particular reason and teaching them that I will never ever beat them even if they make a mistake or steal the chalk and magnets I bring into the classroom.
I also did not expect the children's level of English to be as bad as it is, especially after reading through the curriculum textbooks I was given. They are expected to be able to know all the normal things a first language speaker should and although this is not impossible they don't have the foundational understanding from their lower grades to be able to. I walked into my classrooms on the first day fully prepared to teach what was expected of me and the children had no idea what I was saying. They could read and copy answers found in the text, but ask them their own opinion and they were totally lost. They were able to read a load of words but had absolutely no idea what they meant and if they hadn't learned the word previously they had no way of figuring out what it could be. I realised that these children were hardly ever given a chance to really think for themselves and not one child would answer any of my thought provoking questions in fear of getting them wrong.
The children here need so much love. I know that all children do but here they really, really need it. Every morning in assembly I stand in front of the school and while everyone goes about their normal speeches and announcements I project love to every single child for the entire twenty minutes. I visualise love pouring out every inch of my being and flowing over each child. I know that sounds incredibly hippie but I only teach a small portion of the school and they all need love so much because they really don't get it. I walked into my Class IV classroom during my first week emotional meltdown, looked at each child and told them I loved them. I stood there told them I loved them and was met with completely blank and confused expressions. This was obviously the first time a teacher had ever told them this, or had ever loved them to begin with.
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| My attempts at brightening up the classrooms |
In the first few weeks I found myself looking at this mountainous task with dread. But now I find myself so emotionally rooted at my new school and afraid to ever leave in fear of what might happen to these precious beings. They are starting to get me, to get my ways and they are starting to trust me. This feels like a small achievement but one I am happy with for the time being. I absolutely love teaching these children!
Friday, 6 March 2015
A Day in my Life
So many people have been asking me about what its like living here and I’ve just been so busy living here that I haven’t had time to answer all their questions! So I’ve decided to answer them all in one blog post. This is what an average day looks like in Bhutan:
Wake Up 06:30
I set my alarm for this time every morning - I quickly get up to turn the water heater on and then get back into bed for another 20 minutes while the water heats up. I fill a bucket of water the night before and then put an electric coil into the water which heats it up perfectly. This was really scary at first but now the thought of being electrocuted doesn't even cross my mind. Once the water is heated I use a smaller bucket to scoop up water and pour it over myself, soaping up between scoops. There is a drain on the floor so the water goes everywhere and runs out the hole. The bathroom floor is always wet here and its just become a normal thing. Our squat toilet does not flush so you use another bucket to pour water down the hole when you use it - basically a manual flushing system.
It is currently winter in Bhutan but in our village it already feels super warm. This is really worrying because if I’m hot now, what is summer going to be like? I’m really grateful at the moment for the warmth because bucket bathing and walking to school in the mornings isn't painfully freezing like some of the other places in Bhutan. I then have to put on my kira (the Bhutanese national dress). I wear this to school everyday and everyone is really impressed that I am able to put it on myself! Sometimes the kids will have to fix me at school but they love doing it so I don’t mind. The hardest part of the kira is putting on the safety pins that hold the top closed and together. I’m finally able to do it myself without Dylan’s help. I guess I should admit that I have the best husband in the entire world because while I’m getting ready for school he makes breakfast. He recently went away for a week and I had to cook and fend for myself - I much prefer having him at home! We usually eat oatmeal or eggs for breakfast. There has been no fruit in Rangjung because of winter but hopefully we will get some soon. I quickly eat because I’m normally running late after battling with the kira or my knotted hair.
We then begin our walk to school. There are two routes and we’ve recently found that the one that the kids take is far quicker. This takes us through the rice fields which will be too muddy in the monsoon but for now its absolutely perfect. I think Dylan is getting sick of me saying every single morning as we weave our way through the fields “oh my god, we are actually walking to school right now and look at whats around us”. We walk past horses, cows and all the school children. Whenever the children see us, they stop and bow “Good morning, Madam! Good morning, Sir!”. I don’t think I’m used to it yet, and I hope I never will be!
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| Our colourful bedroom - its a bad omen to have plain coloured bedding here! |
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| Living Area |
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| Kitchen |
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| Bathroom complete with bucket baths and a squat toilet |
My School Day
I teach English as a subject to Class 3, 4 and 5. When I first got to the school they really wanted me to take the higher grades but I was adamant on taking the lower ones because its what I’m trained in. I so get why they wanted me to take the older children now! The level of English here is really poor and most of the little children had no idea what I was saying on the first day, but now they are pretty used to my accent and we both love each other. I LOVE LOVE LOVE the children. I always do, in my own country as well - but here I feel they need it more and I all I do is give. I teach for half the day (my periods are spread out) and then have the rest off for planning. This concept is totally foreign to me but I love it. Everything is so relaxed and I feel like I’m thriving here because there is no pressure from the school. With that said I am still putting in so much effort, I work the whole day and then still go home and do more. In Bhutan I feel that its more because I want to than have to though.
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| Class V: My Homeroom |
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| Posters for each subject to come |
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| Science Lab and Library |
The children really struggle to speak in English and the only way I’ve been able to get through to them is by letting them ask me questions - they are so curious that they don't care that they actually have to speak English! I started singing English songs the other day and I’ve never seen children so excited in my entire life. Its so weird because if I had sang with Grade 5s back home they probably would have laughed at me but here its all they want to do. There is no art or dance or singing in the school so when they are given the opportunity they just love it more than anything. I was asked to take an art club at the school and 40 kids signed up - I was honestly dreading it so much because I thought it was going to be totally chaotic. But all the kids want to do is draw and they just sat quietly and focused on their artworks for the entire time. They just want to be creative and its so amazing to watch children be given an opportunity when they never are. We get an hour lunch everyday and all the teachers eat together. We have to bring a “packed lunch” of curry and rice. We all put all of the curries in the middle of the table and share it out. One of the other teachers came to our house when I first got to the school to teach me how to make Kewa Datsi (potato and cheese curry). We now make it every day for lunch and dinner! School ends at around 4pm and one of the teachers normally drives me home because I have too much to carry. The children have a long day at school compared to back home and they are still playing sport after I leave. We also teach Monday to Saturday (Saturday is a half day) so I basically live at school.
After 4pm
The first thing I do when I get home is change into comfortable clothes, even the Bhutanese do this when they get home. If I’m honest, once I get home I do some more work and am usually making posters and charts until 5:30. I probably don't have to do this and most of the other teachers think I’m crazy for always working but I’ve always been this way, even in my own country! I love my job and give it my everything. I then start preparing dinner, not surprisingly - Kewa Datsi. I also have to put the rice cooker on and the rice cooks while I chop and cook the curry. While I am cooking I have water boiling in the bathroom. I use half of it to wash the dishes and the other half stands throughout the night to cool down. In the morning I pour the water through our water filter to drink and cook with. We cant drink any of the water here because of Typhoid so everything is boiled and filtered. Dylan and I then eat our dinner and watch series or read until bed time. We also get invited out A LOT. We are always eating and drinking at Bhutanese households. I’ve never drank so much alcohol in my life and it is literally impossible to say no, I will usually try about ten times and still end up with a mug full of chunky (fermented rice wine) at the end of it. I’m so happy though because we really are experiencing this culture first hand. I feel grateful for how quickly I have adjusted and really feel that I have my new friends to thank for it! The staff and my principal are just so kind and friendly - they made me feel right at home on the first day.
Right now I love eating Kewa Datsi, drinking large amounts of naja (milk tea), being extra social, walking everywhere I need to go and of course, I love teaching these precious children!
Tuesday, 3 March 2015
On the Road
It took us four long days to get from Thimphu to our final stop, Rangjung. I am so grateful to have been placed in the far east because it meant that I got to see all the villages along the way and I got to spend some more time with my BFC family. It seemed that we all started realising really quickly that we would soon be left to fend for ourselves and that we actually wouldn't all be together for that much longer. I was suddenly extremely thankful that Dylan was with me and that I didn't have to go through all the new changes completely alone.
We arrived at our first stop in Punakha for the night and stayed at a resort with the most comfortable bed ever! I’m not even exaggerating. I even considered switching the mattress for the one I had bought in Thimphu which is rock hard. The realisation that I’m going to miss material things was shameful but I really wanted to take the rain shower and western toilet with me, too. I took comfort in knowing that I would be getting my daily dose of squats in without having to put time aside to work out.
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| Punakha Dzong |
Our journey to the east was extra special for me because I got to experience snow for the first time ever. I was giddy with excitement after seeing just a tiny patch of ice on the side of the road, I think I must have looked ridiculous to the fellow teachers in the bus. There were lots of road blocks along the way and I raced towards the ice the first chance I got. There was a small stream which had frozen over and I joined three children who were “ice skating” over it, laughing like crazy. This was honestly just so much fun I never wanted to leave - and we hadn't even reached the real snow yet! Up on the highest pass of our journey we stopped to enjoy the white patch of thick snow. I built my first snowman and watched Dylan make snow angels. There are no photos of my snowman as there was very little time and he was quite embarrassing. I’ll have to work on my snowman building skills.
The long bus rides every day meant that I had plenty of quiet time which always brings me to some deep thinking. I wanted to start blogging as a means to document the happenings around me but all I seem to want to write about are my cheesy, philosophical feelings. I think Bhutan does that to you, makes you realise what is real and just gives you so much opportunity for growth as a human being - and it is only the second week! I feel so much appreciation for the tears that so often come to my eyes in this place because I am that happy. I am able to experience the beauty of nature and compassion and life because there are no distractions here. It feels as if my life has just begun and I don’t know how I can ever go back to normal again.
I believe deep down at the very core of my being that where I am right now is exactly where I am meant to be. Without any doubts or hesitation. Its truly freeing and the most content I have ever felt about my life. Why wouldn't every human being not do this? Not do exactly what they dream of? I don’t understand. But then again, I don’t have too. Please know that it really is worth anything you have to do or go through. If its what you really want it is always worth it.
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