A Desert Diary: November 2014

I am sitting alone at my desk in my classroom. It is after school hours and fortunately no students have dropped by. I am on the verge of tears. I miss Chelsea...

I never realized how powerful an experience my two years of working at CHAP were. The Chelsea High Alternative Program - a part of Chelsea High School so few people dared to venture too, but it was my home and the students and faculty there were my family. I miss Dave, the lovable security guard, who would laugh and tease the kids all day, but who always had my back when things got out of hand.

I miss the students sulking down our short strip of hallway, pacing the floors with their fists clenched tight and their jaw lines rigid with a forced serious composure.

I even miss the smell of ketchup packets and the sickeningly sweet smell of chicken burgers in microwaved buns. I miss them.

I miss everything.

I miss my windowless classroom that I turned into a forum, a stage, an arena, a lecture hall, a personal temple of learning and place of peace (except for when students screamed profanities and hit each other and then it felt more like an asylum).

I miss talking with my students. Each and every one of them. I miss hearing about the troubles in their lives and about the experiences they were going through. I miss their genuine laughs and even more genuine shouts. Teaching them was never the hard part, it was seeing them try to live in a world that was failing them.

Though I have a wonderful job here in Saudi Arabia with amazing colleagues and phenomenal students, it is clear that I have most certainly left a part of my heart in the little city of Chelsea, Massachusetts.

But I also think I miss the freedom, the independence, the fact that I could teach my students whatever I wanted and question them and challenge them and write with them and read with them and engage them on interesting and relevant topics of study. I miss being able to take my time with topics and to leave school at 3 pm. I miss my little house in Winthrop and the sanctuary it provided me. I miss my pine paneled walls and chocolate suede couch. I miss my blue porch and view of the ocean. I miss the sounds of airplanes. I miss the smell of salt water and seaweed.

I miss my gym. I miss kale. I miss mushroom pesto ravioli. I miss my little wine and spirits shop.

Yet, I also know that if I had stayed, I would never have grown as the woman and educator I have become today. I would never have travelled to Thailand to present at a conference or take a team of students to Cambodia to help build a library. I would never had taken 90 ninth graders camping in the desert or gone on weekend trips to Bahrain and Dubai. I also find myself wondering whether I would have fallen in love with the man of my dreams. We are old friends who reconnected over our mutual love of traveling and experiences of being single abroad. Would we still have fallen in love with my being in Boston and he in Japan? I am not sure. I'd like to think so, but still....I wonder.

Everything happens for a reason and the experiences of my life are no exception. I have taken advantage of every opportunity afforded me in this life and I have grown so much as a person as a result of my struggles and successes. So even though I miss my "old life" and my former students, school, house and routines, I wouldn't change the course of my life for anything.

Though moments ago I was ready to burst into tears, I have now cracked a faint smile and am breathing a little more deeply and peacefully. How fortunate I am to have lived such a full life at such a young age...and how fortunate I am to have so much more adventure ahead of me

This past weekend (5 days total, actually) I travelled to Kuwait with my JV Girls Volleyball team. Fortunately, I was not by myself! I had my good friend, Liz, by my side (she is the coach of the JV Boys) and the two Varsity volleyball coaches as well. We all looked out for each other and supported one another during a very challenging, but very "educational" tournament. I say educational because I think we all learned a great deal, not only about volleyball but about life, competition and our selves.

The tournament was exhausting. I was responsible for the well-being and care and safety of 8 teenage girls all under the age of 16. We were staying in a hotel in Kuwait city and traveling to the school daily as well as venturing to two shopping malls. I felt like a parent. I was constantly on alert and always moving and looking around to count my babies and ensure that they all looked happy and safe.

At first I was nervous about our tournament. I did not have four of my starting players and I was nervous that the players I did have with me weren't experienced enough to make it through a grueling three day tournament. Yet my girls worked their hearts out and came through to win third place. An incredible feat considering that the competition was at a much higher level than they are used to here in Riyadh. Though we had secured a gold metal for ourselves during our local Riyadh schools tournament, I honestly went to Kuwait hoping for fifth place!

Every single day my players improved. They grew so much as a team and as individual players in just three days. I was so proud of them and they worked hard to earn that third place medal. The two teams that got 1st and 2nd place were definitely more experienced than my girls, so I didn't feel bad seeing them advance to the finals. I have very high hopes for the girls next year...

Though it severely breaks my heart to know that I won't be the one pushing them through to victory next year...

Some Coaching Musings/Reflections Inspired by the Trip:

* Children need constant support, affirmation, attention and encouragement. Boys and girls. No matter how young or old. Children come off as "needy" for a reason, because as they are growing and coming to shape their identities and purposes in the world, they need to feel supported in their journey to self-discovery. The best teaching/coaching advice my father ever gave me was if a child is begging for your attention, give it to them!

* Boys often need more attention and love than girls do. Girls can cry openly and express their emotions more freely without fear of being labelled as a "sissy" or any other undermining term. As a result, boys bottle a lot of their emotions up over time and during stressful or emotional events, like competitive sports tournaments, they need to be shown affection and support or else they will crack.

* As an international school teacher in Saudi Arabia, I feel as though usual teacher-student boundaries don't apply to me or my colleagues. My students know where I live, they see me at the gym, they see me lounging around the pool, they see me buying groceries...due to the fact that Westerners are confined to private compounds and complexes, our bubble is quite small and students and teachers know a lot more about what is going on in one another's lives than anywhere else in the world, I suspect. My students look up to me as more than just a teacher -- I serve as a mentor, a guide, a coach, a counsellor, a mom, a sister, a friend even to many of the children at this school. While almost all teaching manuals and guides warn teachers against being "friends" with their students, I cannot help but feel as though it is inevitable in a place like this. Though I don't consider my students to be my friends (because friends are people I hang out with casually, on purpose, outside of school) , I have heard many students refer to me as "their friend". We have been forced to think a lot about setting stronger boundaries with our students here - mainly in light of the Jakarta International School sexual assault scandal, but I cannot help but feel as though being friendly and open with our students is the only way to get through to them and help them engage in learning while living in such a harsh and socially restrictive country.

This had made me think: is it such a wrong thing to have your students see you as a complete and whole person? To see your strengths as well as your weaknesses? To see you at your best and at your worst? Doesn't it promote a sense of trust and open-ness for teachers and students to be honest with one another?

Is it possible for a teacher to remain an authority figure while also showing her vulnerable side?

I believe the answer to all of these questions is yes. I am a good teacher because my students trust me and the reason they trust me is because I don't hide anything from them. I am honest with them and serve as an authority in their lives by acting as a role model as opposed to a dictator. However, I must admit, that I feel alone in this at times. My idea of a perfect teacher is not that of an "authority" but rather, as a collaborator or guide.