[title of blog entry]

This has been one of those frenetically-paced weeks where I had hoped to sit and peck out a blog entry much earlier than now. So many little wisps of things, and threads, reminders, and run this way, and oh, yeah, don’t forget this, and can I have a meeting at 2:15 before the 2:30 meeting, and I-know-you-have-company-but-don’t-forget-dorm-duty weeks. On one of the days on what just felt like a looooong week, I thought, “this must be how my dear sister Elizabeth feels.” Sigh.

But it has been a memorable week—so many emotions, and quick checks on CNN, and so many glorious reminders of how good it is to be back in the classroom with my AP World History students—but as you can see from the pace and zigzag of this narrative, a pretty breathless and exhilarating/challenging week.

One of the most endearing stage shows I have seen in the last few years is about a group of thirtysomethings who try and write a musical for a competition and decide that the meta-thinking and meta-events of the process of working on a musical is fodder enough for a musical. “Should this be in the show,” they ask, and immediately that becomes a part of the musical they are creating. Eventually they have to mail in the script and score and wait to see how it all turns out after their emotional roller-coaster. One of the last things they work on is the title of the show. “Uh-oh,” after all this emotional outpouring it is hard for the group to choose a title. On the form for the competition is a blank and in the blank it says, “[title of show].” They decide—why not! How about that is their title, the empty brackets and all the possibility for what it means: [title of show]. As I was hoping to get a chance to write something this week, I had all these starts and emotional jags that would make for interesting (as far as I see fit!) reading. I actually like the challenge of coming up with the blog entry titles—it should be kinda provocative, kinda concise, and kinda sum up my current mood. But this was a tough week—so many emotional detours, I thought…

I will do an homage to that musical and call it—ahem—[title of blog entry]. It can be so many things to so many people this way.

One of the things that make this a topsy-turvy week is that I have a guest here at KA. My friend Christy, this one-of-a-kind-high-maintenance pal, has come for three weeks to visit me, and visit classrooms and schools throughout Jordan. She is a genius at understanding education and pedagogy, and we have long been soul mates at digging into the whole school process. We have been connected, on-and-off, for nearly 15 years, since I enjoyed my “Cinderella” year with the Klingenstein foundation in New York in 1994. It is fun having a guest, and it can be a little overwhelming with all the responsibilities of regular life (of course, I say this having just been a guest somewhere for the last month!).

Sunday dawned quite cold back in Jordan—luckily, I brought back my camelhair coat I like so much—the one that looked like the $800 dollar one in Lord&Taylor’s but that I got on the street and had a tailor clean up, all for a total of $150. Yeah, just to show off the bargain…

I had never had a month-long break from teaching before in over 20 years of teaching, so I wondered what the “splash-down” back into the “earth’s atmosphere” would be like. I planned to teach about a painting by Giorgione, from about 1500, called Three Philosophers as our re-entry into the world’s history.

There was a little difference in the three sections I teach—five students who had failed the exam in December had wisely decided to drop the course. There was then a palpable change in the vibe of the classes. Of the 42 students now in AP World History there was such an excitement, a veritable thrill to be back in the classroom, and we filled the entire class exploring this painting from the Venetian Renaissance and how it helps us understand the forces at work in the early modern period. (One student confessed that a friend of his had left the class, but he was so relieved since he could now really enjoy the class and not pretend to hate doing work!). It was probably the most exciting day in classes this school year. What a start to 2009!

But besides the giddiness in class, and generally around campus, there was a heaviness in the air as well. Last Sunday was the 10th day since the situation in Gaza had heightened, and this was the first day since Israeli ground troops had stormed across the border wreaking havoc. We had a school meeting to tell students that each day the school would keep everyone informed of the latest events. Our headmaster asked if anyone had something personal to say. A teacher I do not know very well, a lovely Jordanian science teacher named Muna, walked forward and confided, “I do not do well in public speaking, but for my heart’s sake, I must say some words.” She reminded everyone of the proximity of the killings in Gaza, but moreover, reminded us that “these are our sisters, our cousins, our aunts, our children, our neighbors, our brethren. They are like us. We must work today not to be guilty of our happiness of being in this wonderful school, pursuing the dreams of peace and harmony. But we must cherish the deep realization that it is a privilege for us to be in a school, back at our normal routines, working and growing and loving.” Muna spoke so passionately, and I wished I had had a pen to jot more of it down. Later, I went and thanked her for her moving words, and asked if I could make sure I got some of the main points I enjoyed the most. As we spoke she said, “There is some anti-American feeling right now, but most of us know that it is simply the American policy, and not the American people who would want innocent Palestinians to die. We know you rarely hear the other side of the story in the United States, but it breaks our hearts that Palestinians are always considered as terrorists.” Today as I turned on CNN and noticed that there was a new United Nations resolution urging Israel for a cease-fire and I saw that the Security Council voted 14-0 in favor of the resolution—with an abstention from the United States. I was a little ashamed that my home country could not come out more forcefully urging that Israel embrace a cease-fire.

As the week wore on, Jet Lag became such a menacing force. On the first night back I had four hours of sleep, then the next night two hours. The night after that—just one hour of sleep—yikes—what was happening! It strains the nerves and provokes—well, it is difficult with that. Rehema provided me with a little help in the form of a real sleeping pill so I could get some real sleep. Others, though, said it was the worst time for jet lag.

This week I have also enjoyed a trip-down-memory lane as Denison Singers friend-for-life Tracy emails me each day with the itinerary and memories of our Denison Singers’ European tour from January of my freshman year. So as I deal with the escalating violence in Gaza, the Renaissance in history class, dorm duty, guest duty, food committee duty, et cetera, I have the fun of reading Tracy’s emails and remembering our fun from many years ago on our European tour.

My brilliant friend Tessa knows how to galvanize our students and tap into their empathy and sympathy. She started a fund drive for the victims in Gaza, and figured out how to use the money in the best way possible. Aramex, the Arab world version of FedEx, has offered to ship medical supplies for free and take them to needy families in Gaza. All they need is the money for the supplies. Each morning Tala, one of our junior girls, would relay what her grandmother in Gaza had told her on the phone the night before of the travails of the citizens of Gaza. We never lost touch all week, and our boys wrapped boxes in the familiar black-and-white scarves that symbolize Palestinian heritage. You know, it is the same kind of scarf that Rachael Ray, the cooking show maven in the US, was forced to remove in an ad for Dunkin’ Donuts—some people thought that even wearing the checked scarf marked you as a terrorist. Of course perky Ray complied, but these are the same scarves that our students who proudly, and non-violently, claim Palestinian heritage wear each cold day. Students and faculty dropped money into these scarf-encased boxes, and after just two days, Tessa and her army of volunteers had raised hundreds and hundreds of dollars to send medical supplies to the desperate people in Gaza. It is hard for me as I watch the images on CNN or hear the reports not to feel like the people suffering in Gaza seem so much like the Jews in the Warsaw Ghetto in World War II. And so much of the sadness reminds me of the play I have done more than any play, I Never Saw Another Butterfly, the harrowing tale of how children suffered during the Holocaust. A heavy heart indeed.

A student came up the other day and proudly said he had watched Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol for the first time. Yousef was so excited and wondered what I thought of it. Of course I wanted to teach him a few new word or two, and wondered if he knew what a ‘curmudgeon’ was—of course, in Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, the central character is everyone’s favorite curmudgeon Ebenezer Scrooge. I told Yousef that as a little boy I saw so many variations on this irascible man (think about the range: from Mister Magoo to Bill Murray and George C. Scott, but most people agree that the 1950s version with Alistair Sim portrayed this guy at his most heartless and miserly core) but I love thinking about his great name, Ebenezer Scrooge.

Later that day, as I sighed onto the couch, wondering if I had to start grading yet, or should I write those report-card comments, I came back to that great name, Ebenezer Scrooge. I realized that years of imbibing the steady diet of Ebenezer Scrooges have spoiled the true meaning of that character’s name—Ebenezer. The original meaning of this name, and a lovely dollop of Dickensian irony, actually comes from the Old Testament when the Israelites erected a stele as a reminder of God’s help in battle. They named the stone pillar “Ebenezer,” which means “Stone of Help” to remind people of how God rescued them from the travails of life.

Of course by the end of the story Mr. Scrooge has transformed into a beneficent, humbled, self-aware man. I pondered the profound Charles Dickens and the emotional roller-coaster week, and fixated on the teachable moment of that name ‘Ebenezer’ and the promise of the beautiful help coming from the Lord, and it reminded me that we must erect our own Ebenezer in 2009 to help us in the travails of life.