Be Bold

Yesterday I was so busy I forgot to eat. 

Before yesterday, I honestly thought people who would say that “they were so busy they forgot to eat” were telling white lies. I was sure it was more like they thought about eating, but decided to finish what they we're doing instead of eating. I couldn’t understand that someone could be so focused on what they were doing that they could not notice their stomach growling. Don’t get me wrong I have been incredibly busy before yesterday. It is not as if yesterday was the first time in my life that I felt overwhelmed with deadlines and responsibilities, but I have never forgotten to eat. I have definitely chosen to put doing something I needed to do above feeding myself, but I have never just not realized that I haven't eaten for 10 hours.  But yesterday that is exactly what happened to me. I just… didn’t even consider food until I got home and felt like I might actually faint. (Don’t worry Mom, I did not faint. I made some peas and kidney beans and went to bed at 8:30 pm.) 

This week has been what I am considering my first real week at as an ETA at my school. The few weeks prior this one were epically boring. I did not have a schedule and so I had absolutely nothing to do. I did not know any teachers and therefore did not know who to ask about having anything to do. I considered blogging about my experience but it was so full of confusion, boredom, anger, frustration, stress and more confusion that the resulting blog post would have been riddled with more angst than the diary of a high school student. So I refrained. For both your sake and mine.  Because I was not in a good place emotionally and I did not want to subject you to reading about it just as much as I did not want to subject myself to reflecting on it. Just know that in my first three weeks I did very very little, was barely in the classroom, took several naps at my desk in the teacher’s room, finished a book and a half, and cried a lot at home (both to myself and to my housemates) because I could not fathom an entire school year filled with empty meaningless, directionless days like the ones I was experiencing. 

And then last week on Friday there came a light at the end of the tunnel: I finally  got my hands on the elusive schedule: this schedule was my key to feeling useful! I could go into classes with confidence because the schedule would tell me where I was supposed to be and when! I would finally meet some teachers other than the ones who sat near me and the few who were brave enough to strike up conversations with me in the canteen. I could really start my work! 

My feelings of elation and happiness quickly dissipated when I actually looked over this sad excuse for a schedule. I only had 5 hours of class a week. FIVE HOURS. (Keep in mind that I have to be at school from 7:30 to 2:35 Monday through Thursday and 7:30 to 12 on Fridays. Thats roughly 30 hours a week.) AND THIS SCHEDULE ONLY GAVE ME FIVE FREAKING HOURS OF ANYTHING TO DO AT ALL. Additionally, 3 out of 5 of those hours were in classes that were not English classes, which means they were conducted entirely in Malay. A language which I do not speak. I wanted to scream. I almost did. (I would have had I not been sitting in the middle of the teacher’s room.) I wanted to slap my mentor. I wanted to pack my stuff up, book a plane ticket home and get my butt back to the United States where at least I could understand what the heck people around me were saying. I was so defeated and so stressed out.  I did not know what else to do so I simply picked up my bag, and went to a history class that was on my schedule for the day, I sat through a lesson on the importance of learning history, conducted entirely in Malay, then headed back to the teacher’s room to respectfully argue my case to my mentor.  

My mentor basically told me I had to stay in classes that were outside of the English Department. Citing some vague rule from someone in some position of my school’s administration that I had to be an assistant for the entire school and not just the English teachers. But he also told me I was free to add and subtract from my schedule as I saw fit. This was my real saving grace. He basically told me I could make my own schedule. So I decided two things that day before I headed home for the weekend: first, I would not spend another day without getting into some classes, and second, I would stop waiting around for assistance or instruction.  

Side note: My New Year’s Resolution this year was to be bold. I decided that 2017 would be my year full of bold choices the night before I drove back to St. Louis from New Orleans with my sister. I had a conversation with a friend about holding back feelings for fear of them not being received well. It was during that conversation that I promised myself to be bold. Because nothing ventured nothing gained, right?  

So while I thought that moving to a different freaking country was a bold enough move. I was wrong. Bold choices were about to come from me left and right baby. Because sitting back and waiting because I did not want to step on toes did not get me anywhere. (Has that really gotten anyone anywhere ever? I do not think so.)  

So Monday morning, after a wonderful talk filled with endless support from my amazing housemates (shout out to  Jamie and Lalitha for helping me see the wins when I have been blinded by the losses)—I got to work creating the schedule that I really wanted. I basically went around to the classrooms for Form 1 and 2 students and looked at when they had English class on their schedule. Then would show up a few minutes before the class was scheduled to begin to intercept the teacher on their way to class and ask them if I could put it on my schedule. This plan actually worked much better than I anticipated! I now have about 12 hours of regularly scheduled classes in addition to the classes agreed to take on from time to time as a substitute teacher when teachers are absent. Through this method I also accidentally bumped into an art teacher and started chatting with her, and she said she was open to having me in her Art classes! Way better than history or Geography and still keeps my mentor happy because it is a non-English department class! I have yet to hit my goal of 20 classroom hours a week but I am slowly building more classes. I also started the process of convincing my mentor to allow me into the higher Form classes and I have a trial run in a few Form 4 classes next week! And because I have students that I will be teaching regularly I am able to start gaining interest for the English Language After School Club I am head of as a part of my position as an ETA. Win, Win, Win, Win!  

While I have been having a lot more wins than losses this week compared to the previous weeks, there are definitely still things that I do not understand/ get extremely frustrated by. One thing is the school schedule. While I know technically what time classes begin and end I am still not quite in the groove of the actually schedule in my school: I show up early and late to classes when I think I am right on time, I keep getting lost, and can only figure out how to order one thing in the canteen at school (But that one thing is delicious so I ain’t mad). I have also had several instances this week where I have a class on the schedule, go to the classroom, and there is no one there. Then I find out later it is because that class or that form of students has been pulled for an assembly or the lead teacher canceled the class without telling me. (I am sitting in the teacher’s room as I write this because I was supposed to have a class and no one was in the room and I couldn’t find any of the students to find out what was going on.)   

So basically, this experience so far has been exhausting and rewarding, confusing and  embarrassing, irritating and yet super fun. Any time I spend with students fills me with joy (even when I am fumbling around in front of a class because I prepared a lesson that requires a better grasp of English than the students have and they are just looking at me like I am crazy/from a different planet/speaking German). When I am feeling super down I just walk around campus and get bombarded with an enthusiastic chorus of “Hi Teacher!” as I pass students and it makes me feel a little better. Reminders of the student’s enthusiasm that I am here—even when they cannot understand what I am saying—is great because it makes me feel welcomed way more than anything else. The feeling of being wanted is so important especially when I am so far from home and so far removed from anything familiar. (But at least I can find barbecue potato chips here!) 

I guess my biggest take away from my time so far has been the lesson I have been learning over and over since I left the comfort of the life I had created for myself in New Orleans. That lesson is this: be brave, be bold, be yourself, and you will be happier for it. 

And now for some pictures:   

Me and some Form 5 students after a lively game of UNO during lunch break!

Lalitha, Jamie, and me on the day we found out our placements! 

Nasi Goreng Ayam (fried rice and fried chicken) aka the only thing I know how to order from my school canteen.

Strange Bird and Malu Malu Kuching (Shy Shy Cat): Reflections After Two Weeks in My School

The other day I had a student ask me for a lock of my hair. Like literally. She wanted me to pull out a strand of my hair and give it to her. I joked with her that if gave her some of my hair then she would have to give me some of hers, thinking that she would see how strange it was and that it would end the conversation. 

This one is crazy” I said to her friend who was sitting next to me, laughing lightly. 

“No no teacher please! Just a small small piece”, she begged as she reached under her tudong (headscarf) and pulled out a strand of her own hair to give to me.  

I panicked for a second because I was like totally unprepared in this situation. (Orientation had taught us how to reject marriage offers but not what to do when a student begs for a piece of your hair as a keepsake.)  

“No no!” I said, “It will hurt too much”, as I frowned in an exaggerated manner and patted  my head as if just the thought made my scalp sore. 

She looked extremely disappointed but dropped it (for now at least). 

This is the same student who has asked, at least three times now, if she can touch my hair. Which I always oblige because I recognize she probably has had very little if any contact with black people and I honestly don’t mind if she lightly grazes the back of my fro from time to time (always with my permission first). She is not the only student who has made the request in the two weeks I have been in my school. The students always ask politely, touch gently, giggle, and compliment me so it is all around a good experience: they get to see what black hair feels like, and I get a little ego boost.  

During orientation I felt seriously self conscious about going to my school as a black woman ( I know many POCs felt a bit weary about it as well). The discussion always centered around having to combat the idea that, for a  person from outside of the United States, an American person is a blond-haired, blue-eyed, white person. (But honestly this is not just an international problem, the idea that white culture is true American culture is a misguided belief that permeates American thought as well.) But honestly, I haven't really felt any disappointment or disinterest from my students or teachers because I am a black woman with natural hair. Though the experience with the girl wanting a lock of my hair made me realize that I must be even more of a strange bird for my students than the two white ETAs before me.  

Whenever I am at my school the normal interactions I have from students range from totally unashamed staring, enthusiastic or extremely timid  shouts of “hi teacher!” followed by a fit of giggles (and sometimes scurrying away as fast as possible), to questions and conversations about where I am from, if I am married (LOL), and how I find the Malaysian heat and food. The longer the conversation the bolder the student, and the more confident they feel with their English language skills. While I love talking and actually interacting with students my favorite interactions have been with the kids who are too shy to do anything more than simply stare at me. They are normally the younger students, form 1 and 2, who are small and if I say hello to them they look extremely embarrassed/shocked/mortified as if they can’t believe I noticed them looking at me for five minutes straight. Normally I will laugh and say they “are too malu malu” and they will smile because my small use of a simple BM vocal word I learned at orientation. There is one girl, who I think is in Form 1, whose name I do not know because she literally refuses to speak to me and will whisper in the ears of her friends if she is near enough to me that I would be able to hear her voice. She is the epitome of a “malu malu” student. If I am sitting with students playing bananagrams or UNO she will come and sit in the outside circle around the group playing the game (the circle of students who are extremely curious but way too nervous to join in) directly across from me and just stare unabashedly. If I stare back she giggles and hides her face in her tudong, if I talk to her she will jump up and run away, then slink back after a few minutes in hopes I don’t notice her return. Which I always do. 

I like the shy but curious students because they present a challenge to me. I know they want to talk to me but they don’t have the confidence yet (though most of them do have the vocabulary). Building these student’s confidence enough to at least greet me and answer “how are you” will be the type of small victory that will make my time here truly meaningful. The US Embassy reps tell us we are here as bastions of American diplomacy as tangible representations of positive American culture and values, The Malaysian Department of Education reps tell us we are here to increase English language skill so that our schools score higher on standardized testing, the Malaysia American Commission on Education Exchange reps tell us we are here to expose Malaysian youth to native English speakers. While that all is true to some degree, the real reason I chose this program, the way I will feel like a made a positive impact, lies in how I am able to boost the confidence of both my students and my fellow teachers in their ability to communicate effectively across race and cultural lines while using the English language. If I can come away from my time as an ETA in Malaysia saying that  my students feel more confident in themselves than before, then I will consider myself successful—and hopefully I will make all the different commissions and organizations that are I technically work for happy along the way.  

**Notes on the phrase "malu malu kuching"** This is a term that means "shy shy cat" in Bahasa Malaysia (BM) that we learned at orientation. I quickly learned during the first few days at my school that no one actually says it and instead will just say "malu malu" which just means "shy shy". For instance ,if a student is not speaking to me or just giggles when I say something to them one of their friends might say, "Teacher, this one is shy shy".  This is a harmless (and kind of adorable) example of the confusion and mistakes that happen when trying to learn a different language. A native English speaker would never say someone is "shy shy" but a Malaysian student will look very confused if you say someone is "malu" when trying to describe them as timid, the phrase is "shy" and "malu malu" for English and BM respectively.