Part of my job here as an ETA is to conduct “English Camps”. They are basically special programs for students that last for at least four hours. Most English Camps have themes, any theme is acceptable as long as you can create activities for them. People in my cohort are so creative, they have hosted camps with themes such as superhero, super-spy, journalism, cooking competitions, survivor, kindness camp, and girls empowerment. Last week I co-hosted a state-wide English camp with the four other ETAs in my state which was titled “Once Upon a Time in Perlis”. The goal of our state camp was to have 100 students from our 5 schools come together to bring to life 10 short plays based on popular fairytales that us ETAs grew up with. To be completely honest I was extremely skeptical about how successful this was going to be. It was a tall order. This meant getting 10 groups of 10 students who don’t know each other to act, direct, create props, backgrounds, costumes AND perform on stage in front of an audience in less than 48 hours! And everyone there to help them ONLY speaks English! The morning of the first day I mentally prepared myself for complete and utter failure. My students barely talk in class let alone ACT on A STAGE. The idea that they could even be loud enough for the audience to hear without microphones seemed absurd to me.
I carried my skepticism with me like a shield throughout the entire camp, I told myself not to expect too much. Sure, I pushed them to be loud and we all tried our best to help our students feel confident in this experience which was way outside of their comfort zones but I still prepared myself for disaster when performance time came. And to be completely honest I was totally blown away by just how successful our students were. Students were loud and serious and passionate, they took chances and adapted the plays in fun ways that we did not expect. They were creative and confident and we also had so much fun. Not only that but they were respectful and friendly to each other and we did not have many serious problems. At the end of the performances on the second day I felt like crying tears of joy and pride. I saw some of my students, who were so shy in school, get up on stage and act in front of their peers and they actually enjoyed it! Some of them had even volunteered for the leads! I couldn’t be happier. When I got back to school I had students telling me that it was “the best English camp ever teacher!” and I could have died of happiness. The student’s success at our camp was a real moment of affirmation for all of us. And affirmation is NOT something that happens EVER in this experience.
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| Group photo of all the students and ETAs in the State Camp |
And just when I was feeling confident about my impact and how my students saw me, the first class I had after the weekend quickly brought me back down to earth. First, the lead teacher told me five minutes into the class period that she wouldn’t be attending the class that day. Instead of having a lesson prepared for me to take over she handed me a SINGLE worksheet and asked me to help the students complete it. Needless to say that did not workout well. When I returned to class and informed the students that the other teacher was not coming, all of the students started to chant “GAME! GAME! GAME!”. I had to shout for them to quiet down and told them we had work to complete. As I transcribed the worksheet onto the board for students to complete, I realized it was way above their understanding (I could barely understand some of the instructions) and after revising the assignment on the spot most students basically refused to even try to complete the lesson. Instead they chose to mock me in a way that has become classic for this class in particular. They speak to me in rapid malay and then when I tell them I do not understand or ask them to speak slower they roar with laughter at my expense. It is a joke that got old (for me at least) a very long time ago. I left the class feeling defeated, sad, angry , and just plain tired of this shit that keeps happening. I got back to my desk and felt like crying. I wondered, “why is it that as soon as I have a good streak going something has to happen to make me question myself again?”
Just as I was about to allow myself to drown in my sorrows, my mentor came back to his desk holding a bag full of what looked like limes. (If you have kept up with my blog you know that my mentor and I have had quite an interesting relationship. At times I wanna hug him, most of the time I want to karate chop him in the throat, but he never fails to surprise me). Recently I have been seeing a lot more of a caring side to him. A few weeks ago he took his only child to college in Kuala Lumpur, just five hours away by car, but I think it made him see the impact that distance from loved ones can have on a person. I think he realized that I must be lonely.The day before he took his son to college, he sighed and told me to call my mom because “she misses you”). My mentor has never really been one to ask me how I am doing or actively try to cheer me up. But sometimes I think he knows when I am feeling down and he will tell me the latest gossip, invite me to eat with him in the canteen, tell me a story or folktale, or like to day, give me some new random food to try.
Today that food was Kebonbong, it is a fruit native to Malaysia and it is kind of hard to describe. It grows on trees—my mentor got a kilo from a staff member who has a tree in her back yard—and before it is peeled it looks like a bit like if an avocado and a lime had a baby. It is small, I can easily hold two or three in one hand, and hard like a rock. When you peel off the skin you can smell the sweet and tangy flavour. The flesh is white and stiff like an unripe pear. It crunches as you bite into it and the flavour is bitter, sweet, sour, and tangy all at once. When I eat it my nose scrunches and I hate it but I love it at the same time. My mentor peeled and sliced one and we shared it as he told me about different ways to eat kebonbong, how it is the oldest fruit in malaysia, and his undying love for sour stuff. He cracked a joke, filled me in on school gossip, and ended up giving me half the kilo of this fruit I both love and hate to take home with me. Our conversation sparked other teachers to talk with me about their opinions on the fruit and how to make sambal belachan, a sweet and spicy (and of course fishy) paste that most people eat with kebonbong. And I felt the day turn around just a little bit.
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| A handful of kebonbong :) |
This year has been full of ups and downs. As soon as I have a great moment in one class or a successful program something else in my life turns sour. But then the moment I just want to curl onto a ball in my bed, a teacher invites me to sit with them at the canteen, or a students comes a bit farther out of their shell, or my roommate makes me laugh so hard that i spit out my water and i feel a little weight life off my shoulders. Everyday here is like taking another bite out of a kebonbong: bitter yet sweet, tart but satisfying and I keep taking another bite, though I am not always completely sure why.
I have less than 100 days left as an ETA in Perlis. Tomorrow is the beginning of my 8th month in Malaysia and sometimes i’m just as unsure as I was on my first day. I came to the conclusion long ago that some things about this experience will never change, including some things I really don’t like, and I have made a certain kind of peace with that. But each day is a special experience and with so few days left I am starting to realize how much I will miss even the rowdiest, craziest, laziest students I have had the honour to (try to) teach.
