Lessons on Fire Mountain

Mount Merapi at sunrise. 

Imagine me—an average, not particularly athletic or outdoorsy, midwestern girl who had never seen a volcano in person—trekking up the most active volcano in Indonesia at 3am in freezing weather, soaked in sweat and rain water, climbing towards (what I had expected to be) the most amazing sunrise I had ever experienced. Cant imagine that? I barely can either and that is exactly what I was doing one week ago.  

The sunrise hike up Gunung Merapi, “fire mountain”, seemed like a horrifying idea from the very beginning. I tried to play it cool when, in the group chat of the fellow ETAs I was traveling with,  one of the guys informed us that the hike was “only 4 hours each way”. I was terrified of the idea of hiking up anything, let alone an active volcano, especially at night. But, I reminded myself of the two mottos I have fallen back on during the various moments I have been overcome with extreme self doubt and fear of the choices I made to get me where I am: be bold and remain uncomfortable. Planning for the week long vacation in Indonesia—the first real vacation I had ever been on without a family member or close friend—a sunrise trek up a volcano seemed to fit the bill for a bold and uncomfortable move. I had no idea just how difficult the trek would be. Halfway up I started to seriously doubt the choices I had made to get me there. I was totally convinced I had had a moment of insanity when I decided it would be a good idea to pay to have to climb up and back down a constant incline for 8 consecutive hours, in severely cold weather with an even more severe wind, in the rain and hail, without a map, with a bunch of strangers and people I barely knew.  

This is not the kind of story where I get to the summit, look down into the crater below and sew lava and look up to see a beautiful sunrise which warms and revives me and I skip down the mountain with the realization that I can do anything in the world. If you know me, you know even my fairytale stories aren’t that much of a fairytale. (Like when, days after the hike, I along with two other friends, found an off-the-beaten-track waterfall and spent much of the day lounging in the fresh water pool at the base. I ended this fairytale adventure with a sunstroke and heat rash so bad I was out of school for two days upon returning to Malaysia.) But back to the story of how Mount Merapi whooped my butt: 

Obviously, the sun rose. But we couldn’t see it for the dense cloud of fog had surrounded upper part of the volcano. The magical sunrise I envisioned (which helped me power up the mountain) was more like the world just gradually got light enough for us to see without a headlamp. This sucked for two reasons: first, because of the thick cloud coverage it did not get any warmer and second, now I could see how high up I was and how far down I could fall if I accidentally toppled over the side. Oh and by the way, we did not even make it to the summit of the volcano. The wind speed was so high that our guides refused to take us to the summit, which was a plateau and would have not only been extremely cold but the wind was so strong and the fog was so dense that we could have easily been blown off. Not only did we not get to the top or see the sunrise, I was cold, and miserable and had a long way down. 

Even though Merapi was, for all intents and purposes, a bust without reaching the summit or seeing the sunrise, it was definitely an experience I am glad I had. Though I huffed and puffed my way through the whole thing (all the way in the back of the pack mind you), I felt so accomplished for not stopping and going as far as our guides (and mother nature) would allow. I felt extra satisfied when I talked to some of the more experienced trekkers and climbers in the group and they told me that it was a very difficult trek for them too. I had challenged myself and it paid off because now I realize I can do things that I never imagined I would be able to do. I spent a lot of time in silence, pushing myself to go higher and higher (and then to climb down which was a whole other beast in it of itself), and through all the torment I kind of started to see a glimpse of the reason behind why people love to do that kind of thing.  

The trek on Gunung Merapi taught me a few lessons that have already helped me to come to terms with my work this year and i’m sure will help guide me for the rest of my life. So here are some lessons I learned on Merapi: 

1. Not every step is going to be a sure one. 

I think this is the hardest realization to come to and a reason why I have always had an aversion to hiking, especially the coming back down part. I like certainty and stability especially when talking about literal things like where I placing my feet. Coming down from Merapi was a realization that not every step is going to be sure and that is okay. You have to trust the choices you make, the path you pick, and your ability to correct quickly or else you will do more harm that good.  

2. You will fall, and you might take some friends down with you. 

About halfway down we came across a serious patch of muddy land. Remember, the incline was steep so it was definitely going to be tricky. A few people went ahead of me with the guide’s help and then it was my turn. I took a couple steps, a guide reached out his hand to me I leaned to grab it an took another step and then I slipped and proceeded to slide about 10 feet down, taking the guide whose hand I held with me and the other guide who had reached fin to help when I began to slide down. I slid to a stop against a rock and hopped up howling with laughter. It had been both terrifying and hilarious. All my friends above me were laughing hysterically as well, one of the other girls slipped the exact same way I did but the guides were smart enough at that point to not let her drag them down with them. I was definitely embarrassed, I couldn’t stop apologizing to guides I had caused to fall with me. But they did not really care and totally shook it off with a laugh. I guessed it was not the first time a pretty inexperienced person on the trek had taken them down. Plus what’s a little more mud on your pants in the long run? Though I was embraced and significantly more muddy, I was not hurt and could keep going. Instead of letting the fact that I had fallen totally negatively affect me, I just decided to get back up and keep going and to be happy there was a rock there to stop me from falling too far down. 

3. Friendship means support 

Three months ago, every person I went on this trip with was a complete stranger. I don't really remember talking to most of them during the two week orientation in Kuala Lumpur in January. But through this week long trip, I felt a connection with all of them both as a group and on an individual level. This was never more apparent than during the Mount Merapi trek. They were all so supportive, nice, and encouraging. From holding my hand when I got too shaken on the way down, to words of encouragement when I did something right, to laughing at my jokes, cuddling with me when we were all freezing while waiting for the sunrise, and never rushing me up or making me feel bad for having to take a few breaks and always being in the back. Most of the people who trekked Merapi with me were more experienced than I was but they never made me feel inferior for my lack of trying, instead they were all excited for me for gaining more experience with them. Maybe that is the nature of the trekking community, maybe I just got lucky to have some super amazing people to trek with, but either way the support I received was an integral part of my success.

 

In Yogyakarta, hanging out after eating Gado Gado, a traditional Indonesia dish of boiled vegetables, tempe/tofu, eggs and peanut sauce.  

4. Always bring an extra jacket 

The day prior to the hike a few of the girls and I bought additional jackets at the market. in the moment I put up a bit of a stink about having to shell out extra money. When we were up in the clouds and freezing rain, I was so happy I had spent the cash on the windbreaker and was kicking myself for not always investing in a poncho. 

5. Not reaching your goal does not mean you failed 

There were several reasons beyond our control, or the control of our guides, as to why we were not able to reach the summit or see the sunrise. Standing in the wet cold on Merapi I could say I was a little more than disappointed that we did not get the views we anticipated. But once we reached the bottom again we all concluded that we had a great story to tell and really interesting bonding experience. When I am older and I back think on my first trek up an active volcano (and definitely one of the most difficult physical activities I have ever participated in) the member is inextricably linked with the people who experienced with me.  The connection we all made and memories we share as a group is so much more important than just being able to tick and experience off our bucket list. 

All in all, I am so grateful for the experience I had both on Merapi and in Indonesia. I never considered that I would be in a position to casually travel to Indonesia for week long vacation, so it is still really amazing to me that I actually did! This whole experience so far has been amazing because it has opened up the world in a way I did not realize I needed it to be. I feel now, more than ever, the endless possibilities that this world has to offer. The longer I spend away from home in this culture that is very different from anything I ever knew in the US, the more I the desire to see what else this earth has in store grows within me. The value of this experience is twofold: in inspiring me to go places I have never gone before and do things that scare me, and in allowing me to make connections with some really amazing people along the way.  

In my first entry for this blog, I talked about finding comfort during orientation in the community of other Fulbright Malaysia ETAs after feeling so isolated during my preparation to come here. If I am being honest with you, the feeling of community with the ETA Malaysia program at large dwindled significantly once I got to my placement. I made a few friends at orientation that I kept in touch with over the ensuing months, but it was hard not to feel isolated from them and the other ETAs in my cohort, even the ones in my state. As soon as we got to our placements our experiences, which had melded into one big mess during orientation, became very individualized as we started to begin our lives at our own schools and in our own homes. Between the struggles of finding my place in my school, the small number of other ETAs in my state, and feeling like I was not really being acknowledged in the large scale group Whatsapp chats that were created in the frenzy to keep connections an communication going during orientation, I began to feel the familiar sensation of isolation again. The vacation in Indonesia not only provided me with a much needed reprieve from the challenges of my everyday life in Perlis, but it helped me to gain and solidify connections with people in the cohort beyond just being in the same program. I was able to create and strengthen actual friendships with seven of the people in the Malaysia ETA cohort and that made me feel a lot less isolated and a little less crazy for choosing to hike up an active volcano. 

Being apart of this community of ETAs across Malaysia is definitely a strange place to be. While I do have a special tie to all 97 of the other people in the cohort—enough even to let them crash on my couch if there were ever in my city (either while in Malaysia or later when we are all spread out somewhere in the world). But, I would not necessarily say that I will come away from this experience with 97 friends. I expect the majority of us will go our separate ways, some of us without ever really getting to know one another, and never come face to face again. I think it is a really ambitious and pretty naive to assume that will all have the opportunity to forge a genuine connection with each other on a individual level before the 10 months are up. (Besides I feel like statistically, if there are 98 individuals then you are bound to not get along with at least 1 or 2 of them no matter how much you try.) There are definitely people in this cohort who have a lot more friends (or at least are a lot more well known that I am) and I definitely struggle with the desire to be well liked by everyone, no matter how unattainable that desire truly is. But after this vacation I can say, at least, my friend circle has expanded by 8 funny, inspiring, supportive, intelligent, talented people. And I have Indonesia—and especially Mount Merapi—to thank for it. 

On the way down on Merapi with some of our fabulous guides 

On Never Wanting to Be a Teacher

I grew up in a family full of educators. Almost every adult in my family has been a teacher of some kind at some point of their life. Whether it was my Nana who taught in Saint Louis Public Schools for decades, or my Uncle who, throughout my elementary school years, would sneak attack me with multiplication drills whenever he was in town. (I am certain he is the sole reason I know my 7 multiplication table as well as I do).  

My upbringing and education taught me the value of teachers from a young age. I recognized the importance of appreciating and respecting my teachers. One of the worst things I could do in school—which would surely get me in a ton of trouble at home —was disrespecting a teacher or authority figure. The adults in my family made sure I understood, as much as my young mind could, that my teachers worked hard because they cared about me and that I would not get far in life I did not learn the lessons they strived for me to understand.  

I was lucky to have a educational upbringing full of amazing teachers both young and old. They were passionate about their subjects and their students and they made me excited to learn the knowledge they passed on. I looked up to my teachers, even in the subjects I hated, because they would be just as excited as I was when a concept finally clicked and my confidence grew in the subjects that I could never consider pursuing more than the level required to pass the grade that I was in.   

Because of my respect for their position and my love of school, teachers often really liked me. I looked forward to parent teacher conferences because they were like scheduled sessions of praise for me throughout my school years. This is not to say that I had amazing relationships with every teacher I ever encountered and succeeded in every class. There were definitely serious hiccups throughout my schooling experience: teachers who I did not like , teachers who did not like me, times when I failed, times when I did not work as hard as a should, times when I was told I would not succeed. When I got to college there were classes, and professors, and whole subjects that I absolutely and completely detested with such force that it shook me. However, all in all I had an overwhelmingly positive relationship with school and educators throughout my life as a student, even including all the failures, missteps, misunderstandings, and boredom that I inevitably encountered.

While I have always had respect for teachers, I never really desired to be one. From my view point teaching seemed like a ridiculously tiring occupation: you're on your feet all day, you're always in class, you have homework every night, each year a new sort of emotional rollercoaster, and you don’t even have that great of a paycheck. I saw the toll it took on the adults in my family, heard the stories of successes and failures in the classroom, and thought it’d be better that I become a doctor, lawyer, or business person; something with less homework and better pay. I know you must be thinking it is pretty ironic that I have this view on the profession,  seeing as I am currently a teacher. (Members of my family will find in doubly ironic because they always say I would make a wonderful teacher.) But honestly, this experience has almost solidified my desire to not be a teacher (at least so far). 

I have spent several weeks in the classroom at this point playing different roles: lead teacher, co-teacher, assistant teacher, and sole teacher. Every time I step into the classroom I am wracked with nerves. Even when I am relaxed I stumble over what I am going to say, how I am going to say it, and in what order I am supposed to say it. It makes it doubly difficult that at best my students understand most of what I am saying and at worst they are staring at me with blank (and slightly frightened) faces because not a single word of what I have said has gotten through. The combination of my tendency to talk too fast when I am nervous, my strange accent, and my lack of knowledge of BM phrases that are functional for the classroom, causes me to seriously struggle. Nevertheless, students get extremely pumped when I enter their classrooms  (or even walk past their classrooms), I basically cannot walk around my school without being greeted with a chorus of “hi teacher how are you?”.  It makes me feel like a celebrity and also sort of like an alien. 

Everyday I am shuffling between two distinct ideas I have about what my focus is supposed to be here: that I am supposed to ensure my students gain knowledge of the English language and gain confidence in using English, and that I am supposed to ensure that my students have fun in every class I lead. I still have yet to strike the right balance to make sure both of these things are happening at once, especially because getting me students to actually speak in full sentences is akin to pulling teeth. Not because they do not have the language but because they are so gripped by the insurmountable fear of being wrong that often they would rather say nothing than to pronounce something incorrectly. Typically I simply embarrass students into answering questions or reading passages. (I enjoy the tactic where you get everyone in class to chant and cheer and applaud the particular student who refuses to speak until they just have to stand up and read the damn sentence or just melt into the floor.) But even then it is extremely slow going. I make a point to being extremely encouraging when correcting students written and oral work but there’s only so much I can do.  I struggle with the idea that I am not doing the best to help students, even though they are enthusiastic and seem to have fun (most of the time) when I am leading a lesson I constructed for myself. I get the overwhelming sense that students like having me in class because I am just different from the regular teacher and not because my lessons are particularly fun, interesting, or enlightening. 

And then there is the difference between the actual resources I have at this school compared to the resources I was exposed to during my education. I was blessed to go to a school with a TON of resources: smart-boards, high speed internet, endless art supplies, laptops for every student, projectors and computers in every class room. At the school where I teach there is not a projector anywhere, the internet sometimes works, I cannot assume my students have access to internet or computers at their homes, the library is small, and any art supplies I need I will have to purchase and bring with me to class. So it makes it basically impossible to mimic many of the projects and lessons I did in high school even if I wanted to do them on a simpler scale. Add that to the fact that the majority of the time when I am planning a lesson for a class it is, at the most, a couple hours before the class starts and, at the least, walking to the classroom when I bump into the lead teacher and they ask me, “So what are we going to teach today?”. Add that to the fact that using art integration and creative expression in lessons is basically an alien concept in schools here (and basically the only way I know how to teach) and it has me sweating (more so than the heat already does) and trying hard not to pull my hair out. It makes for a stressful situation to say the least. I do not say this to complain about the Malaysian Education system or to brag about the schools I attended, but just to say that it is layer of being a foreign teacher that impacts my ability to be an effective teacher. Naturally, I anticipated that I would have challenges adjusting to and fitting my abilities into the system of my school, but it was not until I had to operate in a school that was vastly different from my own experience that I realized how much the teachers I had influenced my understanding of what teaching looks like and what it means to be a good teacher. 

But to be clear, this is not my way of telling you guys that I am quitting or giving up. I have never in my life felt so consistently exhausted both physically and mentally. I get home at the end of the day and just collapse into a chair at the kitchen table for hours before pulling myself up to workout and make dinner for myself. In the mornings I drag myself out of bed cursing my schedule that forces me to be up and out of the house before the sun rises. But I get so much joy from spending time with my students, it is amazing to watch them open up to me more and more as the weeks have passed. This work is like a complicated puzzle and when the pieces fit together and students understand me and enjoy what we are doing and are broadening their confidence and skills, it is an incredible high. But just like when solving a complicated puzzle, most of the time the pieces don't fit and I'm constantly turning and twisting (and flipping and standing on my head and doing backbends) to get my students understand me and encourage them to use full sentences. 

When I express my insecurities and downfalls to friends and family in education they assure me that a lot of my nerves about being affective, being likable, being engaging, being respected etc are super common, especially for new teachers. And I know they say it to make me feel better but it honestly doesn’t. It just makes me feel a little crazy for thinking I could do this in the first place. It makes me even more sure about my decision to never choose a career in teaching full time.

More than anything this experience has given me a serious reality check to the struggles educators go through. When I get home from school I often talk to my roommates about how in awe I am about the strength of character (and physical strength) teachers have to have. I am not even a real teacher, I don’t have to deal with so much that an actual teacher must deal with and I am completely overwhelmed every single day. But at the same time, the moments of joy and appreciation are so warm and genuine from students that I do get a glimpse into the reasoning behind why teachers go to work everyday.  

If nothing else this experience so far has renewed my belief that education is power and my respect for the people who decide to make education their life’s mission. I have always appreciated my teachers, mostly because I was raised to. Now that respect is colored with a sense of understanding that I did not have before. When I think about all the teachers I had in my life I feel both awe and gratitude. I did not understand the  magnitude of the sacrifice they were giving to me. Not only did they share their knowledge but they gave me their sleep, their happiness, their mental health, their physical well being, their relationships, their free time, their money and all they asked for in return was that I made my best effort. Teaching is a profession of altruism. Teachers, everyday, expect to give more than they receive. It takes a strength of character of heroic proportions. I have always thought back to my favorite classes and teachers with fondness, but now even the classes I completely hated and felt like pure torture when I was in them are colored with a new sense of appreciation and genuine pleasure for having gone through them. 

If I could implore you to do something it would be this simple thing. The next time you take moment to be appreciative, to thank the people who sacrificed for your success. Remember to think of your teachers, from both in and out of the classroom, who gave themselves to you knowing full well and not minding one bit that you might never understand the gift they were giving to you and how much of themselves came with it. 

Thank you for all the educators who modeled what a good teacher was for me. More than anything I hope that I can make you proud!