Kaleidoscopes

If I had the money and attention span to be a great collector, I know what I would like to amass: kaleidoscopes. I remember hearing a dean at Denison University in 1986 give a lecture about the kaleidoscope as a metaphor for the transience, beauty, and inevitability of life and I have never ceased to be amazed by this great invention. Of course, the kaleidoscope is a tube of mirrors containing small colored objects; as the tube is rotated, the tumbling of the colored objects presents the viewer with varying colors and patterns. Any arbitrary pattern of objects shows up as a beautiful symmetric pattern because of the reflections in the mirrors. Known to the ancient Greeks, it was reinvented in the 19th century and popularized as an indispensable toy in the era of the newfangled horseless carriage and wireless radio. When I taught a course on the 20th century at Hackley, I discovered the “re-invention” of the kaleidoscope at the turn of that promising new century and I used it in conjunction with the novel Ragtime as a metaphor to understand the changes, the music, the new patterns of life at the dawn of the 20th century. Certainly every week, often every day, and even every hour the slight turning of the KA kaleidoscope has made this year in Jordan wondrous and beautiful.

I haven’t written for a while about the progress of my gang in the state of “Poke,” as Adam designated it a month ago. They are doing well. Recently a young man, a new intern here at KA from Scotland, visited my class, and afterward said, “I couldn’t believe their excitement in class. There was one moment in particular when I just felt sucha rush.” Matthew referred to a day when we moved from the Enlightenment, a time of revolutions in thought, to the Industrial Revolution, a transformation in technology. I showed a slide of a brand-new, gorgeous machine (from sometime circa 1840) and I asked the class, “Which Enlightenment philosopher do you think would love this machine the most? Which philosopher…?” Hands ranged in the air, and many started shouting out names. I asked, “Make sure you can explain why your choice would love this machine with such devotion.” Matthew told me later, “I couldn’t believe they were saying all these philosophes from the days of the Enlightenment. They really knew the big names.” As we went through names like Isaac Newton and John Locke and Montesquieu, several students shook their heads in disapproval at those names. I forget which student first offered the name of Condorcet, but I remember how swiftly Rashed’s hand shot into the air, “Mr. John, it has to be Condorcet. He’s the man who kept saying that mankind is perfectible and he would say this machine is perfect and leads us to a perfect society.” Matthew couldn’t believe how sharp their evaluative skills had become. Yes, they had named the right names, but many went beyond just rehearsing the Enlightenment hall-of-famers. They were trying to take something so odd as this machine and connect it to the words and thoughts and hopes of these writers. It was one of those moments when you realize how beautiful the patterns of the changing kaleidoscope had become.

Another turning came on April 6 when we hosted a group of 20 or so from a school in Indianapolis, Indiana, a scant 100 miles from my hometown. A wonderful teacher, Margo, had set this trip up last summer so that our students could meet her students, and simply let our teenagers spend the day together and see what happened. They attended classes with a paired-KA student, attended co-curriculars, and in the evening we met and discussed world events and social issues before turning to Arab music and dance. First of all, Margo endeared herself to me by bringing me my two favorite kinds of girl scout cookies—hard not to be overjoyed when your mouth is stuffed with the Tagalongs!

That evening I facilitated the discussion with my dear colleague Fatina—another example of the American-Jordanian pairing. Instead of just having them in one big group, we started the evening with just the pairs discussing. Then we enlarged the groups to 4, to 8, 16, and finally, all 36 of the American and Jordanian students. They enjoyed spirited conversation, and of course, as we watched them, we enjoyed watching how many of the personality issues akin to teen-agers overlapped the nationality borders. Here are the questions that the American students brought eager to discuss with our students:

Questions from Park Tudor School students:
Are there any conflicts between different religions at King’s Academy?
As you become more educated at King’s Academy are there conflicts at home?
How do others view you for going to King’s Academy?
What do you think of the rules at King’s Academy?
More and more American youth are questioning religion or their parents’ religion. Are there atheists in Jordan? Do people feel comfortable challenging religion?
How many girls wear headscarves at King’s Academy?
What do you think about the rules for women in Saudi Arabia compared to a country like Jordan?
Why do men dress in tight jeans in the Arab world yet some women wear the hijab? Why isn’t the men’s dress haram?
What do you like about western culture and what do you dislike?
Do you like the westernization of Jordan—do you see it as a good thing or a bad thing?
Are people in the Middle East concerned about global warming and/or environmental issues?
Because of the war in Iraq, do you have a negative preconception of “me”?
Are Americans disliked because of their presence in the Middle East or because of specific values they hold?
Are you following the U.S. presidential race and primaries?
Are Jordanians sympathetic to Osama bin Laden? Why or why not?
What solutions do you see to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict?
How do you feel about parental involvement in your personal life? Would you accept parental involvement in your marriage? Are you allowed to date?
What difference can young people make in the world?
What is family life like in Jordan?
What is the difference between culture and religion?
How can one believe and practice their faith but still be tolerant of others?
What role should religion play in society?
What is your understanding of freedom?
How are young people in the U.S. and Jordan similar? How are they different?

In the last two nights there were more delightful turnings of the kaleidoscope—not major moments of groups coming together, but simply individuals coming together.

On Tuesday night I was leaving my apartment bound for the gym. Abdullah, Raja, and Adel stopped to ask some questions about a presentation they were preparing for class the following day. We sat down to go over the fine points of what they hoped to accomplish, and we just started talking about history courses and AP tests and being a student in general. About an hour later we moved inside and finished some left-overs from a “mixed grill” at Haret Jdoudna the night before. It wasn’t anything major, but another slight turning of the kaleidoscope, another moment of symmetry, another moment of unexpected beauty. I don’t think we solved any problems of the world, but we spent about 90 minutes just enjoying each other’s company and humor.

Last night I had been invited to an unusual dinner—the man Mr. Ziad, he of the famous carpet store in Madaba, invited six of us who have bought carpets from him in the last few months, invited us to his house for a feast. We met his family, met the groaning table laden with the Arabic feast, and spent the entire evening making merry and making music. It was unheard of to me to go to an entrepreneur’s house, and maybe he just wants us to visit the showroom again, but it was all just a magic turning of the cosmic kaleidoscope. Each day another turning.

The turning of the kaleidoscope is a little rushed this morning. In an hour I am headed to the airport, all set to jet over the thousands of miles back to the heartland of the US of A for Spring Break.

The colors of the particles will no doubt change, the arrangement of patterns, but the joy, and the pleasure of the simple turning of the kaleidoscope will no doubt delight. I will check in with you stateside.