Thursday, August 28, 2008

Can you hear me now?

Can you hear me now? I have been waiting to use that line as a blog entry title for months! And the really funny thing (well, funny to me, at the very least) is that I have no real through-line for that title. I mean, I have no philosophical-metaphorical plan for that title. Sometimes I will get an idea for a title of an entry, and then magically or poetically it is linked or wrapped or connected to something else. I just think it’s funny to ape the funny cellular phone tagline as I come back to Jordan, resume the writing of the blog, and shout back to my friends and family in the United States: Can you hear me now?

Anyway, I am back in Jordan having arrived exactly 100 hours ago as I write this. I enjoyed the smoothest flight/transition yet on this partiular return to Jordan. By this time, I have finally learned what can and cannot be packed in carry-on luggage (Campbell’s Bean Soup is certainly not allowed according to FAA rules, and btw, the TSA agents do not like discussing the reasons why not) and how to judge the 50 lb. rule on checked luggages. My father now always brings “emergency bags” to take home anything that tips a bag over 50 lbs. since we are not a family prone to pay fees for excess baggage! Just so you know (he says with smugness...) I guessed well—all three of the checked suitcases weighed 48 lbs. each. Now the supreme smugness would have surely been if I had been sharp enough to know I could have stowed away a few more pepperoni sticks. But those “emergency bags” went home with my father empty.

I have also gotten savvy to the security process at the airports in Cincinnati and Chicago. When I fly USAirways or American Airways to connect to Royal Jordanian, I have a big, bold “SSSS” emblazoned on my ticket. The first couple flights it was little rattling how invasive the security measures were for this designation. I mean they take every single, little thing out of the carry-on bags and wipe their mysterious cloths over everything. I have to stand in a certain place, and I have always been told that if I touch anything—at all—the whole process would start all over again. Last year, in 2007 on that maiden flight to Jordan I had no idea how long this process took and I really almost missed the flight to Chicago due to the laborious process to secure my magazines, DVDs, and sundry carry-on stuff. This year I allowed enough time, kinda sauntered in, and said, “Okay, everybody. I have one of the SSSS marks. I figured out what it stands for. I’ll bet it means, "Super Secret Security Shuffle.” Those sweet TSA agents chuckled, and somehow the process seemed to be over in only about 10 minutes. We’re all old friends now…

I had my flight plans arranged so I could fly from Cincinnati to Chicago (rather than JFK in New York) so that I could enjoy the lay-over with my remarkable friend Elizabeth who has forsaken KA to start medical school in Chicago. We met, screamed hellos, and got in the car to go have pizza—with pork products before the “embargo” began once in J-country. It was a great reunion, and I loved her attitude: she loves her new school, roommate, apartment and everything, but she kept saying, “Don’t forget to send my love to Sam!” followed by “Don’t forget to send my love to Tessa!” followed by “Don’t forget to send my love to Lana!” followed by “Don’t forget to send my love to Hamzah!” followed by “Don’t forget to send my love to Arthur!”—you get the point. She had such fondness for the people that crowded their way into our hearts, and I was getting to go back and see them shortly, and she was getting to begin that journey of medical training that is so important to her. For those who are faithful blog-readers, this Elizabeth was that instant friend who followed my donkey on her donkey during that infamous donkey kerfluffle up the gazillions of steps in Petra last August!

I got on the flight, and actually slept for half the flight.

I returned around sunset to KA and spent the few hours left of the day greeting friends, hugging, and checking out new apartments and suntans. I went in search of Greg, someone who will probably figure prominently in this year’s installment of my blog. Greg is a former student of mine, a member of the fabled class of 2004 at Hackley, and a sharp historian. I taught Greg in his junior and senior year (in different courses—he didn’t fail the course and have to take it over again!) and as I remember, our History department awarded him the prize as best historian at the end of his junior year. Ahhh…I loved being department head and getting to arm-wrestle my colleagues as to who should win awards). Last spring I pestered Greg as his senior in college came to and end, hoping he would join us at KA as a teaching intern. He agreed! I think he was just interested in becoming a connoisseur of hummus!

I found Greg—welcomed him to Jordan and beamed as I pulled him around to introduce him to my friends.

So here it is 100 hours later. Last year at this time I had written 4 blog entries already, I think. But of course everything was so new, so strange, so foreign, so full of the unknown. I miss somewhat that marvelous-unnerving-unfolding feeling of it all, but I also welcome the familiarity of returning and seeing dear friends and sitting back during faculty orientation feeling quite pleased that I know the ropes here.

Our first day back, on Monday, we enjoyed a dinner, just like last year, under the stars in a beautiful courtyard. Where to sit??? When you know 75% of the group it is much more fun and aggravating deciding with whom you want to break pita. And last night was the gala dinner in Amman with the entire employee staff at KA. It is in the same place as last year, and I was told there aren’t many places that can accommodate a party of 300! From the headmaster to our faithful landscaping team to the kitchen staff and the registrar, KA faculty everywhere. The drive to Amman was familiar, and while there isn’t that new “luster” anymore, there is that beauty of comfortable surroundings.

We have four new members of the History department, and it has been fun to meet, finally in person (you can’t fly out candidates as easily here) Nancy, Lucy, and Anna. We worked collectively on the 9th grade world history course, ironed out details and plans for the 10th grade Middle Eastern history course, discussed where to begin the U.S. History course for juniors, and I worked solo on the AP World History course. It is a good few days of tweaking syllabi, mulling over introductory statements and hauling books over to our rooms.

Today was the last day to get things in place because—tomorrow—they come back! The “old” students arrive and spend the day getting moved in and back together before welcoming the many new students on Saturday. So today was that day-before-Christmas rush of getting everything organized, finished…in the middle of the day as I walking from one building to another all of a sudden a Broadway showtune popped into my head. (Doesn’t that happen to you???) I had the lyric buzzing:

Four weeks, you rehearse and rehearse
Three weeks, and it couldn't be worse
One week, will it ever be right?
Then out of the hat it's that big first night!!


That lyric is from Cole Porter’s Kiss Me, Kate! and I spent the afternoon humming this bridge of the tune, smiling as we prepared for the Return tomorrow. This evening I enjoyed a relaxing dinner on the patio of newlywed friends Tiffany and Hassan, and I shared this musical stream-of-consciousness with my five friends. Rehema just turned to me and said, “Are you sure you don’t have ADD???”

Well, in any event—I never have been tested for it. I am bound for bed now, for in but a few hours it will all begin again. I will see Abdullah and Maya and Jude and Karim—and the fabulous lot of them all. Interestingly, there is only one student not returning from last year. Otherwise, they are all on board for the launching of the Second Year in the Life of KA. I’ll be reporting as best I can.

As I type save and then jog on over to the website to deliver the posting, I will leave you with the rest of the Cole Porter lyrics that danced through my head today…

Another op'nin, another show
In Philly, Boston, or Baltimo'
A chance for stage folks to say hello!
Another op'nin of another show.

Another job that you hope will last
Will make your future forget your past
Antoher pain where the ulcers grow
Another op'nin of another show.

The overture is about to start
You cross your fingers and hold your heart
It's curtain time and away we go -
Another op'nin
Just another op'nin of another show!

No comments: