Heading Home

Well folks, it's been a good ride. I want to thank everyone for their support and help. Without that love and caring attention I would have never gotten here, only to turn around and leave again. All kidding aside, I have learned some invaluable lessons during my time here, and I have met incredible, one-of-a-kind people whose influences will stay with me for the rest of my life. I have so many people to thank, and so as not to leave anyone out I'll just say: thank you.

Please read my Resignation page for the full-blown answer to many of the questions people have asked and that I have had for myself about my decision to resign from Peace Corps service. Take care, and keep it cute. 

Not a Regular Day at School

SMP LB Negeri students and staff, plus me.

The incredible staff at SMP LB Negeri

On Tuesday I visited a school for the mentally and physically handicapped. But SMP LB Negeri turned out to also be a school for the incredibly gifted. I left from my house at about 5:15 AM on my bike and rode to the next town. Wahyu, my counterpart teacher and friend, met me at her sister's house near the train station. I parked my bike inside and we walked up the road to the station. We bought tickets for about $ 0.30 each and boarded the 6 AM train to Banyuwangi city. The ride took about an hour. After we reached the station we took an angkot (a van-like public taxi that runs on a fixed route) to the school. 

Wahyu and Yoga

Wahyu and I arrived before all the teachers, including Yoga, Wahyu's husband. Yoga specializes in working with the blind. He invited me to come to the school to meet the students when I first met him back in July (actually I think I invited myself when I heard about the work he does). On Tuesday our schedules finally aligned and I was able to visit. Some of the students were already there. They were somewhat shy with me, as Indonesian children usually are. Some had obvious disabilities, like blindness, cerebral palsy, or missing limbs. Others became apparent when I saw some of the kids signing to one another. I was very curious about the signing. 

I got to observe an art class with the children, led by the Vice Principal and Art Teacher, Mr. Jarot. They were mixing plaster and pouring it into little plastic moulds, drying the casts in the sun, and then painting them. The kids' projects were at various stages of progress. One student, Dwi, had just begun painting a plaster cast of a mask. She tried to get one of the other students to help her open the small tube of yellow paint she wanted to use but no one seemed to want to help, so I bent down and extended my hand to open it for her. I unscrewed the cap, making sure the inside seal on the tube was broken. I gave it back to her, and she signed "thank you." Wahyu told me another boy, who was working diligently painting a plaster strawberry, likes to act. I watched a boy, without lower arms or legs, paint a plaster leaf with dexterity, patience and care.

The two students in the video, Dwi and Fia, performed a traditional Javanese dance called Gandrung in another class I observed. I had the privilege of watching and recording it. 

Bu Isnaini with a BII dictionary

They can't hear the music so they follow visual cues from their instructor, the teacher of sign language and dance, Ms. Isnaini. Ms. Isnaini was very friendly and willing to show me some basics in sign language. I spoke with a few of the deaf/mute students, and they taught me the signs for asking for someone's name, and I learned how to spell my own name. They told me their names, some just with sign, others trying to sound it out verbally as well. When I wanted to ask them where they lived, I wrote it down in my little pocket notebook and showed them. Yoga photocopied the first section of an instructional dictionary in Bahasa Isyarat Indonesia (BII), Indonesian Sign Language, for me, which contains the alphabet (slightly different than the ASL alphabet), counting, particles, prefixes and suffixes, etc. So far I've learned the alphabet and how to count. I hope to get better so I can communicate with the deaf/mute students. 

Yason, a lively student with a bright smiling disposition, did a pantomime dance. He acted out a morning routine, from waking up, getting dressed, and eating breakfast, to riding his bike (and crashing), being late, and sitting through class. 

He can't hear, but he is incredibly talented and spirited. I was told he won first place in a miming competition. 

A blind boy gave me a massage. He started with my arms and then did my shoulders and neck. I didn't ask for it, I was simply told by one of the teachers that some of the students were learning massage. Then she went out and found the boy, led him in to me, and I gave him my hand. He told me his dream is to become a masseuse and work on the tourist island of Bali. 

In the music room was a complete drum set. I used to play, so I asked for a set of sticks. Another blind boy was playing the piano, and I started in with an accompanying rhythm. He quickly took up the beat, and we started to play together. We faltered a couple times (mostly my fault, it's been a while) but for a little while we seemed to sync up and we played a song together. I really loved that. 

Bu Rina, I'm told one of the best special
education teachers in Banyuwangi

Yoga took Wahyu and I around to the other schools for the handicapped children. There is a whole system there, with a grade school, Yoga's middle school, and a high school. The classes in the grade school are small, but they each have a devoted teacher. I met the principals and sat in their offices introducing myself. Yoga and Wahyu helped me explain why I was there, that I wanted to see what the schools were doing and meet the students. Most of the students were having their end of semester tests, but I got to sit in on a first grade class. Of the four students, one little girl was particularly talented. She is deaf, but she is learning to read lips. I'm told they learn this first, before they learn to sign. The teacher would say words, slightly over-enunciating, and the little girl would point to the object being named. As she pointed, she would also repeat the word, trying to sound it out despite not being able to hear herself. 

At the high school I met a boy, Dian, who I think may have been autistic. He took to me very quickly. He walked up to me confidently and shook my hand, saying "How are you?!" and asking me in English for my name. When he shook my hand, he didn't let go. I asked for his name, and he answered again in English. He seemed to be able to hear English and imitate sounds fairly easily, and he was enthusiastically willing to try (unlike most of my high school students). We spoke in Indonesian, he asked me a lot of questions about where I'm from, repeating some of my answers. Before we left, we took a quick photo with a group of the students. Dian sat down in front of me and leaned his head back against my leg, practically sitting on my feet. He had a few stickers stuck to his arm, and when he got up, he gave one of them to me as a parting gift. 

I also got to visit a private school for the disabled, which houses an orphanage. All the students were gone because it was getting toward the afternoon and there were no classes due to testing, but I met the principal and some of the teachers. The music teacher is blind, but he is still able to use the computer at the school thanks to some impressive technology I didn't expect to encounter. The computer has a special program that speaks each key stroke and describes the position of the mouse to the user. The teacher opened up the program for typing and typed out the alphabet and the first 10 numbers. The program then converted the text to braille and sent it to a large machine. This machine, the only one of its kind in Banyuwangi, is basically a giant printer for braille. It uses special, thick paper and punches the little dots into the page. They gave me the page of the letters and numbers to take home. 

Amazing kids

School's out, helping each other home.

As is the case in many instances, despite being such a special and unique school, the only of its kind in the whole regency of Banyuwangi, SMP LB and its fellow public schools lack the funding to buy basic things. SMP LB can't afford enough sheets for their makeshift dormitory. Some parents are not willing to send their children to the school unless the kids can live there, so SMP LB converted one of its classrooms to a living space. I was glad to see that despite funding difficulties, the school's priorities still lie with providing enriching activities for the kids. 

Makeshift dorm, in need of some
extra sheets

Jakarta also provides assistance in the form of donations, like musical instruments and IT equipment, sometimes instead of monetary support. I'm not sure how I could raise money for this school, but any ideas are certainly welcome, for fundraisers or other funding sources. Places like this suffer from the effects of corruption in government offices, and from being ignored by political leaders. But despite the difficulties, the strong leadership of principals and the devotion of teachers allow these schools to continue. I hope in the near future I can become part of the effort to help these kids. Wahyu told me that perhaps I can come and help with life skills development, which was a wonderful relief from the constant question of being asked to teach English, something I can say is not my passion (no one asked me that day). Despite the physical or mental challenges the children face, they greeted me with smiles and kindness. They were willing and open enough to show me some of their talents, and I was blown away by some of the skills they possess. I went home after meeting all these special people, and for the rest of the day I was wearing a smile, a welcome contrast from much of my recent time here. This was easily one of the best days I've had in Indonesia. 

Big thanks to SMP LB, the students and teachers, Yoga, and Wahyu for their help and introduction to such a great school and group of people. Photos and video posted with permission. 

Plastic Christmas Trees Can Grow On You

I dreamed last night about going home and majoring in film. I was in a boat on the lake near my house in Maine with some people I didn't know, and we were capturing footage. There was a girl in a boat, the camera zoomed in on a side shot of her face, and the lighting changed from normal colors to some kind of sepia tone. The instructor of the class said something to the effect of "it's all about the lighting!" I woke up not knowing where I was, briefly believing I was waking up in my bed back home. That hasn't happened to me since the first days I've been here. I think I know what kind of state my subconscious has been in lately. A urinary tract infection that took hold on Monday put me down for four days. Most of the time I just laid in bed. Monday night my fever spiked to 103.2 F. I've been on a 7 day course of antibiotics which seems to have knocked out the infection. For the remainder of the week, I was too depressed to go to school or even leave my house. Luckily testing has started so I didn't miss anything. Today, though, I decided to go out and do something.

So I biked to a Christian orphanage outside of Genteng that my host parents told me about, about 18 km from my site. I had asked a few weeks ago if there were any in the area. It's a very large complex built on a hill, with some dilapidated housing lower and near the road, the main structure better cared-for, higher and away toward the forest behind. There is a large church within the main building, and I attended a two hour service. I didn't intend to do this. I haven't gone to a church service on my own in almost six years. I'll spare you my complicated and confused views on religion, but I no longer apply a label to myself and my [lack of] understanding of the greater universe or the divine. I only went there to look around and see if there were any opportunities to help out with the kids, since it seemed like a likely place to find a worthy service project. I biked up to the building and was standing there tentatively when a little red van putted up behind me and the driver waved me on. Then he stepped out, and he appeared to be what I can only describe as the Indonesian version of my grandfather, the late Reverend Homer Martin. He smiled at me, a warm toothy smile in his well-pressed button-down shirt and his spotted tie, and I instantly trusted him. Even his presence, his way of carrying himself reminded me of the intelligent, confident man I knew as my Grandad. Mr. Tirka and his wife asked me where I'm from, where I live, and I told them what I'm doing here, that I was at the orphanage/church because I had heard of the place and wanted to check it out. They welcomed me in and said I could look around if I wanted, or I could attend the service that had just started. I hadn't taken into account the likelihood of encountering a service, since it was a Sunday. I hesitated, but they were so inviting that I timidly followed them. I stopped at the door and asked where to put my shoes, but they assured me it was fine. "This is a church, not a mosque," they laughed. I was still uncertain about staying so long. Then I saw the 6 foot tall plastic Christmas tree, decorated with 'Merry Christmas' signs and bulbs, a silver star and a flashing string of lights. I sat right down. Mr. Tirka introduced me to the two men sitting next to me. They were from Bali and live very near my site. The hall looked very much like any church, pews and the pulpit up front with the large cross on the wall behind. I took it all in willingly. I just wanted to be in a recognizable environment for a little while. I could see the church I attended with my family as a child for so many years. But mostly I could see my family, the fake tree my Grammy sets up every year for our Christmas Eve at her house with the little train that drives around its base and the hidden gifts and envelopes in its branches, and our tree at home, smelling of fir in a room of dry wood heat. I listened to them sing Christmas songs in Indonesian, mostly a rendition of 'Holy Night' they sang repeatedly. One girl performed it particularly well, despite the choral leader's falterings and lack of pitch. But they all had wonderful spirit and didn't seem to care that they had to stop and start a few times as they sang, just trying to get the rhythm and the notes right. After the service, I talked to the preacher, Mr. Tirka, and a few other church leaders. Then I went back to the front of the church and watched the kids sing another few songs. The group of orphans that live there all the time were singing their little hearts out, quite focused and incredibly cute. The older girls were more aware of me and were laughing as they sang, except for the one girl with excellent pitch who was also very focused and nailed the songs. An older boy lives there permanently as well, but he didn't seem to sing much. According to my translation of a kind but quick-spoken man who works there and was kind enough to show me around, the orphanage used to house hundreds of orphaned kids, whose parents were out of country working, so that the kids could attend school. But now many have returned with money and taken back their kids, so only a few remain. I left the place about three hours after I arrived, in far better spirits than I've been in all week. I promised to come back, and the man told me I may be able to help out with the Easter celebration next year. After I left, I headed back to the main part of Genteng. I biked to Timbul Jaya, the best baking store I've found so far in East Java, and bought some powdered sugar and food coloring for the cookies I still intend to bake for my kids (I was sick last week when I planned to do it). Then I went to Kalisari, a huge department store, and bought a whisk and some peanut butter. I went into the little restaurant they have there and bought some food, and an avacado juice and a soda float, because I can. Then I biked back home. 

I guess the moral of this story is that sometimes I'm having the worst possible time here, and then things let up a little bit. Something cool or nice happens. And I remember that this really isn't bad, it's just that I allow myself to follow that rabbit down the hole of depression, until it spirals out of control. This is the effect of illness on me here. When I'm healthy I can have a wonderful time. But unfortunately I seem to get sick a lot. When I get sick, I lose a very important basic need - my health - and everything else becomes unstable. It's all too easy to let my progress (that progress being in my own head) slip away as I retreat back to the safety of avoiding cultural experiences and the difficulties of teaching by hiding in my room. I need to be able to depend on my own strength, so that I can deal with the stress of going outside everyday, dealing with people yelling and laughing at me, staring, treating me like an alien, along with the pressure of being a teacher. It's like my father says: without your health, you have nothing. 

Thanksgiving and Teaching

The ID 4 + ID 5 crew, minus a few

Ryan carving the turkey, Robert
inspecting

Lovely layout. More food kept
flowing from the kitchen as we ate

We had a great Thanksgiving in Surabaya at the Consul General's house, man did we clean up the food. No leftovers from that meal. About 50-60 people there, half of them Indonesian, from various important departments and offices on both the American and the Indonesian side. There was an open bar which was awesome. We had some delicious American food, including turkey, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, stuffing, cranberry sauce, and pie and fruit, too.

A PCV's devotion to service

Maggie, a PCV from Colorado, was sick so I brought a plate of food to her after the dinner. Everyone thought I was crazy taking a whole plate of food from the Consul General's house but Kristin said I could. Before the dinner we had the option to participate in two service projects in the city. The first was at a home for the elderly and disabled. The second was at an orphanage. Below are the two orphan boys I worked with the afternoon before the dinner. They must have thought I was weird, since my voice was so hoarse from an upper respiratory virus I had. I didn't go to the morning service project because I was too tired and didn't want to burn out for the rest of the day. 

Hand tree of things we are
thankful for, orphanage

Working in my school is a heck of a job. The school is severely lacking in organization and leadership, so it struggles a lot, and the kids are mid to low level (all the higher achievers usually get into better high schools) so my classes are tough cases. Thankfully they're not like American kids, so their version of "bad" is more akin to acting like naughty but good-natured American children. But we're really limited by the behavioral issues in class. A lot of times we can't get through half a lesson because the kids won't sit down and pay attention.

Wish classes were this small! My
English Club, before a game

 Some days I have to really work to restrain my strict side from coming down hard on them. It's not all bad for sure, I love my kids, and my one awesome counterpart is my guiding light in the darkness here. I've been doing a lot of standby to assist her with little things, not so much in the teaching role lately. Next semester I go back to teaching two grades and double my number of students to around 400, so it's going to get interesting again. I'm confident enough now where I don't freak out if I'm left alone, and the 11th graders have actually complained that I'm not there, saying their teacher just does boring workbook activities, so I have that to boost my confidence. He's the reason I stopped teaching 11th, because he would leave me alone with no planning, but now that I know what's going on here I'm cool with that. I'll just play games with them the whole class. If he doesn't like it he'll have to stay in class and spend time planning with me beforehand. As I am now, I actually don't want to go home. For the first six months I was praying for some mistake in my paperwork or a natural disaster to send me stateside, but now I'm dug in pretty well and want to get some things done before I leave. I'm working on a semester plan for the spring (end of rainy season?) semester. I don't want to start next semester without having some idea how it's going to go, and how it's going to end.

More updates as they come!

Subbing in the States

I was reading through some older journals and found my substitute teaching log. I'd like to share some of the logs with you. I thought the experiences were even more interesting now that I can see them through the new teaching perspective I've gained from being here. I struggled with some of those students and with the teaching situations at a few of the schools. I was still a real green horn, and each day I was very nervous going into class. I think I would do things differently now that I've been through a lot here, though teaching as a sub may seem more difficult after this, since here I'm afforded unheard of flexibility whereas subbing is usually pretty rigidly structured. As difficult as this job is, the freedom I'm given is something I won't easily let go of. Enjoy!

2/11/11 - Orono High School, Orono, ME

Grade 10/12 Teacher, Bio/Chem - I administered a test to the Bio students (AP Bio finished a lab, talked and slept). There was a chem class not on the roster (I was not given any paperwork, and no schedule for the day, just a roster that was not updated), a basic one-semester chem for the "slow" kids. I did my best to talk about the vocab words they were covering but it was largely just me giving them the answers. I had two classes where I lost my temper and raised my voice at the students, and one class where I swore at a student ("Do you want to go to the office? Do your damn test.") after he made a wise crack about rape. I felt largely as though I had failed the students, just being a mean and controlling sub because I wasn't really in control, as opposed to someone they can really look up to. There was  a lot of disrespect and misbehavior, however. One student told me that the regular teacher is constantly "yelling" at the two difficult students in the "slow" chem class. 

Chem class - two girls, one in NHS who wants to become a baker of goods without gluten, and is going to attend a culinary arts college (she has celiac); another student told me that she wants to find a bunch of odd-named towns and then go on a road trip to visit each one while taking pictures with disposable cameras, and then go on to art school in Boston. These students were the few shining lights from that day. 

2/10/11 - Bangor High School, Bangor, ME

Grade 9/10 Teacher, Algebra - full day with five periods of Algebra. Algebra I, II, and II Honors (two of each I and II). Successfully managed the classes and taught the majority of the concepts such that students could understand. Was unable to teach one particular graphing concept until another teacher explained it (by then the students were gone). Upon explaining operations in dealing with nth roots to a student who was talking after coming into class late, he remarked that I just explained what took the other teacher three days in about 30 seconds. He then went on to explain another problem to a student who was having trouble. One of my students in an Honors class, Doug, was a student I mentored while working for Upward Bound the previous summer. 

2/4/11 - Cohen Middle School, Bangor, ME

Grade 7 Teacher, Acc. Reading and English - had classes ranging in size from 15 - 22 students. The kids were very well-behaved relative to what I've heard about middle schoolers. They accomplished the work almost too quickly, and I mostly allowed them to work on their computers (playing games with zombie-like stares on their faces), and I read to them chapter 25 from Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath. One boy was a diligent worker and told me he liked Steinbeck's Pearl because of the descriptive language and the images. A young girl named Ray was the only student of two English classes to volunteer reading her rendition of two poems after putting in her own punctuation. 

1/26/11 - Viola Rand Elementary School, Bradley, ME

First Grade Teacher Sub - Worked with 13 first graders for a full day. Very challenging, kids hadn't had recess outside in days due to cold. Most rewarding aspect was helping the children with their individual math assignment. Had them do yoga as a reward for being good in the morning. Regret: not allowing them more freedom.