The Canteen Gets a Makeover

 

 

It took many hours, lots of paint, and plenty of dance breaks, but … our world map mural is complete!

And when it was finished, we all felt like this:

 

Paint and Perspective

We’re painting a mural at school. So far, it’s been a positive experience – the students are excited about it and eager to participate, and other than my initial sketches, all creative vision has been the kids’. They’ve helped me prime the wall, paint base coats, and outline the mural in chalk. They submitted quote ideas and voted on which one we would use. (The Gandhi one everyone knows beat out “I Believe I Can Fly I Believe I Can Touch the Sky” by a slim margin – apparently we’ve got some R. Kelly fans at SKSD.) Creating a mural was a goal I had set way back in the spring, and with planning and teamwork we are starting to see it take shape.

But yesterday, frustration crept in. There was watery paint dripping everywhere, kids “fixing” parts of the wall with the wrong colors, and cats walking through paint pans. The sheer number of people running around only added to the chaos, because besides the dozen or so students working on the mural, there was a sizable crowd clamoring for more paintbrushes. “We really, really help you, Miss!” I had a vision, this was not it, and the Type A part of me just wanted to send the kids back to class and finish it myself. It took all I had to keep myself from waving my arms and yelling, “Stop, stop! Let’s wash up the brushes and pack it in, folks. We’re done for today.”

And then, the reality check I needed:

“Miss Hannah, I am so happy.”

Anirah was hunkered down by my feet, painting flowers and ladybugs (ladybirds in Malaysia). She was covered in paint and clearly in her element. Her words made me physically and mentally take a step back, and as I surveyed the scene in front of me, I realized I was the only one who cared if orange paint had snuck into the grass. I was the only one who even noticed that the shades of blue in the background didn’t quite match and made the sky look like a patchwork quilt. The mural taking shape in front of me was colorful, a little messy, and had lots of character – a lot like the artists themselves. My students were happy, thoroughly enjoying this creative outlet, and trying their hardest to speak in English. What was there to be frustrated about?

Not a thing.

See Cikgu Run

“Miss Hannah, why you run on highway?”

This is a question I hear a lot from my students. It’s unusual to see women (or men, for that matter) jogging in my region of Malaysia, so I get lots of looks and shouted commentary during my evening runs along the coast. This unwanted attention, in addition to the heat and amount of clothing I wear, makes running here a significantly less comfortable process than at home. The good news is that over the past nine months I’ve started to get more friendly waves than confused stares, so I think some barriers are slowly breaking down.

But back to the question: Why do I run on highway? (And by “highway,” my students mean a cow path along the side of the road.)

This is why, kids:

On Sunday, I ran the Standard Chartered Half Marathon in Kuala Lumpur. 33,000 people took to the streets in the marathon, half, and 10K events. This was my fifth half marathon, and Asia is the third continent on which I’ve run a half. I didn’t set any personal records, but everyone got a finisher’s medal and my students think that part is just great. Nine-year-olds are easily impressed.

Starting line, 6 AM.

My friend Chris and I. We did it!

Finish line.

Ely is a rockstar!

During the race, I saw a few women running in tudongs. I wanted to take a picture to show my students, because I knew it would make a huge impression – especially on my girls. Ely, the woman in the last photo, graciously allowed me to snap a shot at the end of the race. I told her she was going to be an inspiration to a bunch of primary schoolers in Mersing, and she laughed. It’s true, though – it is really important to me to show my students strong role models; people who embrace challenges and passionately chase their dreams.

Every day I ask my little scholars to step out of their comfort zones, and I try to lead by example. Some days that means learning “Price Tag” by Jessie J on the ukulele, or leading 500 kids in the Chicken Dance. And some days it means ignoring all the yells and stares and just running on highway.

 

Wednesday Sunshine

Wednesdays are preschool days, and preschoolers are a whole lot of fun. SK Sawah Dato has two prasekolah classes, and I thoroughly enjoy the few hours I get to spend with them each week. Malaysian students generally begin English instruction when they start school. So, when I arrived in February, most of these preschoolers had around a month of English under their tiny belts. With this in mind, the preschool lessons I plan aren’t focused on grammar as much as basic vocabulary and speaking with confidence; I want my students to be able to get their point across. We play a lot of games, make messy art projects, and sing simple songs at high volumes.

I planned today’s lesson around the song “You Are My Sunshine.” Some students loved the coloring part best, while others were anxious to sing and kept eyeing my ukulele in the corner. I had written the lyrics on the board, and after about 30 minutes of practicing, most of the students were singing along (and even shouting key words like happy and sunshine.) A few of the more quiet kids weren’t singing, but they were intently focused on holding up the correct picture at the right time in the song. It’s neat to see these 4 and 5 year olds approach learning in so many different ways.

And then, something great happened as I was packing up to leave the room. A little boy named Nazif pointed at the uke and said, “Guitar … small!” Then he pointed at himself and said, “Saya (me) … small!” And then he pointed at me and said, “Miss Hannah … big!” We’ve been working on opposite words lately, and the fact that he remembered big/small made my day. He got a double high five (high ten, if you prefer) and then I was on my way. Wednesday sunshine, indeed!

Bali by the Numbers

2 – Sunrise yoga classes. When in Bali, do as the Australians-on-sabbatical-from-their-actual-jobs do.

15,000 – Price in Indonesian Rupiah of a soy banana smoothie I found at a street stall. (About $1.30 USD.)

5 – Soy banana smoothies I consumed over the weekend. (Also, please enjoy this soy milk joke.)

3 – Days I spent at least an hour lounging poolside. My homestay had a pool and I was not about to waste the opportunity. Priorities, my friends.

2.5 – Books read whilst lounging poolside. The Cellist of Sarajevo, The Geography of Bliss, and I’m halfway through my annual re-read of To Kill a Mockingbird.

4 – New friends. Two Danes, a North Dakotan, and a Californian.

15 – Kilometers trekked with these new friends through beautiful rice paddies.

8, at least – Women spotted reading Elizabeth Gilbert’s memoir Eat, Pray, Love. The Balinese economy owes that woman so much.

0 – Temples visited. No regrets. I’m still templed-out from Cambodia.

Many – Cups of coffee enjoyed. Real, not instant – this distinction is important.

1 – Pet monkey I encountered on the street. Her human informed me she is named Darling.

57, approximately – Times per day I was asked if I required a “taxi” – read: motorbike driven at breakneck speeds through the streets of Ubud.

3 – Types of currencies with which I paid the Indonesian exit fee.

24 Hours in the Cameron Highlands

Tea, strawberries, and cool weather. That’s about all I knew of the Cameron Highlands before I went there this past weekend, and actually those three things sum it up quite well. Temperatures in Mersing are still around 95° F during the day, and the polyester baju kurung I wear to teach don’t help the situation. So, the prospect of autumnal weather alone was enough to have me running (scooting) to the bus station to get a ticket, with a scarf optimistically shoved in my backpack.

There are no direct buses from Mersing to the highlands, so I spent Friday night in Kuala Lumpur and met up with my friend Joann. Saturday afternoon found us – finally! – in the land of high tea and scones. The main town of Tanah Rata wasn’t quaint as I’d been expecting, but it was small, walkable, and even had a Starbucks. While there were no pumpkin spice lattes to be found, the Indian restaurant next door served a mean masala chai that I’m still dreaming about and will attempt to replicate soon.

It was wonderful to spend a weekend exploring. We picked our own strawberries, hiked through the woods, visited the BOH tea plantation, and tried steamboat for the first time. (Basically, you cook your own soup at your table by dropping vegetables and noodles into a big pot of boiling broth. Delicious.) It was also nice to just talk with Joann about things: frustrating teacher moments, ways we’ve changed over the last 8 months, and what life looks like post-grant. I’ve realized that while I talk a lot in my role as a teacher, I don’t necessarily always communicate. Language barriers and cultural differences sometimes mean that I don’t understand or feel understood. So, I really value those times where I can freely express myself. Whether we were laughing at SNL videos, discussing books we’ve read recently, or suggesting new podcasts we’ve discovered, this weekend was full of the kind of meaningful conversations I’ve learned to not take for granted.

Oh, and another highlight was that I got to go to church. I haven’t been able to go a whole lot in Malaysia, and I miss it. There are two churches in Mersing – Presbyterian and Roman Catholic – but all services are either completely in Mandarin or Hokkien. The Catholic mass we went to on Sunday morning was in English, but hymns and prayers were also in Tamil, Bahasa, and Mandarin. Multi-lingual services are always so exciting; you never know what’s coming next. Nobody was falling asleep in those pews, that’s for sure.

So, it was a whirlwind trip to the highlands, with many hours spent in transit. But was it worth it? Definitely.

Strawberries galore!

BOH tea plantation

The cutest scone thief.

Malaysian Idol

Today, I had the distinct honor of guest judging a Form One (1st, 2nd, and 3rd grades) singing competition. Each class that decided to compete had to choose a song and organize their own choreography and costumes – not a small feat for 8 year olds. Malaysia recently celebrated Merdeka Day (Independence Day), so the theme of the competition was Merdeka. As it happened, I was the only judge, so after some intense deliberation with myself, first place went to … *drumroll please* … class 3G! I would be lying if I said the homemade costumes and Malaysian flag headscarf didn’t sway my decision.

Dikir Barat at SK Sawah Dato

I was walking through our school courtyard and caught some of my students practicing dikir barat. They perform this traditional dance at special events throughout the school year. We have so much talent at SK Sawah Dato!

Notes at the Coffee Shop

If you ever happened to visit my little corner of the world in Mersing, Johor, Malaysia, there is an excellent chance I would take you to get coffee at The Cake Shop. Now, this coffee shop/bakery/cafe does have an actual name and it isn’t the only place to get coffee and pastries in our town, but my roommate and I affectionately dubbed it The Cake Shop in the first few weeks here, and the name stuck. We were won over early on by its unbeatable combination of A/C (“aircon” in Malaysia), strong black coffee, and wi-fi. I come here a few times each week after school is over, to spend an afternoon lesson planning or writing letters.

I mean, you would be a regular, too.

Yesterday afternoon was cool (I never in my life imagined I’d think 78 degrees F “cool”) and rainy; a perfect afternoon to spend with a mug of coffee and a good book. (I’m currently reading “The Master and Margarita” by Bulgakov for a Fulbright Book Club we started in an effort to battle intellectual atrophy. Months of conversation with 8 year old non-native speakers of English will do funny things to a person.) After the 1 pm bell rang and I’d slapped about 58 good-bye high fives, I scooted over to the coffee shop in the rain, my blue poncho flapping behind me. As I usually do, I parked my scooter on the street in front of the shop with the two or three other bikes that are always there.

My status as a regular at The Cake Shop was confirmed when I walked in and the girl at the counter said, “Hi, teacher! Black coffee, no sugar, milk?” As I waited for my coffee, I thought about the routines I’ve settled into here and how I (usually) truly do feel like part of the community. So, it came as a surprise when my coffee was delivered with this note:

Well. It turns out that although I had been parking in front of the store for the past six months, along with many other people I might add, it isn’t technically a parking space and the sweet staff were all afraid I was going to get fined. (This would mean that the police would have to start writing tickets instead of hanging out at the bus station taking selfies, which is about the only place I encounter them, but better safe than sorry I suppose.) When I asked who wrote the note, shy Lily said, “I write note for you because my English is not good, and I am afraid to speak to you.” I thanked her for worrying about me, and I promptly went out to move my scooter to a more appropriate location.

When I came back inside, I told the girls again that it really did mean a lot to me that they wrote the note, but that I didn’t want them to ever be afraid to speak to me in English. They giggled and agreed, and told me to keep the note “as a memory.”

Lily and Ayu

I did keep the note. And you know, I’ll probably take it into school and tell my students this story. Because no matter how many interactive lessons I plan, no matter how many fun English games we play or silly songs we sing, I still get the question, “Teacher, whyyy we learn this?” And, one day, the fact that they know some English and aren’t afraid to use it could mean that they prevent a parking ticket and make a new friend in the process.

Teachers’ Day

Last week we celebrated Teachers’ Day here in Malaysia, and it was wonderful.

Now, while we celebrate teachers in the States, the holiday was taken to a whole new level here. There was singing, there were speeches, there was coconut bowling.

Some of my favorite parts of this happy day:

Matching batik baju kurung. A few teachers went to a meeting in Terengganu and brought back yards and yards of batik (hand-painted) fabric to make Teachers’ Day baju. One of the ladies in our school office is a talented seamstress, and she made mine. (It’s the first baju I’ve had tailored especially for me, so if I take one back to the States this will probably be it.) Each teacher accessorized her baju differently, and some even had sequins, beads, and piping sewn in. The male teachers all wore matching batik shirts.

Student presentations and teacher awards. The students signed up in groups to sing songs, and we heard about ten adorable variations of the chart-topper “Terima Kasih Cikgu” or “Thank You Teacher.” The students had voted for spoof teacher awards like Best Smile, Most Stylish, Funniest, etc. and the head boy and girl prefects announced the winners. My mentor got “Most Sporting,” and I got “Most Creative.” I received a mug as a prize. (“For your coffee, Miss Hannah!” They know me so well.) The last part of our assembly in the hall involved the students handing out presents to the teachers and many, many salaams (students taking the teacher’s hand and touching it to their forehead as a gesture of respect.)

Watching everybody let loose. After the assembly in the hall, everyone changed into sports clothes and the games started. I participated in an extremely competitive female teachers’ handball match, and the male teachers had a futsol tournament. It had rained the night before and the field was more mud than grass, so all the teachers kept falling. This made it even more hilarious for the hundreds of students standing on the sidelines cheering us on.

Then came perhaps my favorite part of the whole day: coconut bowling. The students set up 1.5 liter bottles filled with water, and the teachers had to knock them down with coconuts. I learned that coconut bowling is not one of my gifts, but I was on a team of coco-bowling sharks and we won! It was great to see students, teachers, staff, and administration all out on the field having a blast together.

And I will leave you with this poem, written by one of my Standard 2 students.

Happy “Thechers Day,” indeed!