O-O-O-rientation…
We are nearing the end of the death march that is Student Orientation! The pace of activity is a bit frenzied, so that it makes a regular school day, which begins tomorrow, seem like a relaxed cakewalk (I never have really gotten that whole “cakewalk” thing—I have never done a cakewalk, seen anyone else do a cakewalk, but it is such a nice archaic expression to bring back…anyhoo…)
Our Dean of Student Life created a wonderful student orientation. Her most brilliant stroke involved bringing back our 110 returning students on Friday, enjoying a day unto themselves before welcoming the new students. I have never run a student orientation, but if I had been charged with the task, I imagine I would have just had the new people come first, and then squeeze the veterans in at the end. Instead, Wendy had the foresight to understand that it is actually a little hard for our pioneering students to relinquish the campus to more people. All morning on Friday the old students returned—there was such a cacophony of “I missed you Habibi!” and hugs and kisses to beat the band (somehow tonight I am excited to resurrect many archaic phrases). You remember that in Jordan men greet each other with a kiss on the cheek—to be more accurate it is a “single double.” There is one kiss on the left cheek as you face your friend, and then a double kiss on the right. But, there are exceptions—when you have not seen a mate for some time, there can be extended kisses on the right cheek. So with the swells of the 110 students returning, such happiness to be back at school the kisses and the wishes continued all morning. Indeed these remarkable students many of whom truly transformed deserved a day to bask in the friendships forged in our opening year before embracing the new students.
We met as a school one last time in the Lecture Hall, a place that holds about 125 people. We will never be able to meet there again since the number of students increases so much this year. We will meet in the large auditorium from now on. Our headmaster recounted some of the triumphs of the year. The faculty acted as waiters and table heads at lunch, serving our students, and enjoying the reversals of roles. The old students got their marching orders for the following day, so that they understood their significant role in preparing the school for Year #2.
I was tempted to re-read the blog entries from last August and early September, those days of semi-horror as we ventured into Scratch. No need. It was just a joy to welcome them back, eager to see how they would handle the next day and carry on the mission of the school.
Saturday dawned—wait, it is Jordan, we don’t need the weather report. It is sunny and hot and blue skies. The old students all had t-shirts to wear with “King’s Academy Moving Company” on them to help greet and move in the new students. Around 8:30 a.m. the new students began arriving—looking nervous and unsure about what a boarding experience really means. Our students grabbed hands to shake, and bags to carry, and led them to dorm rooms, took them on tours, waited on them in the dining hall, and served as exemplary role models. Wow. Even though we had loved our small intimate school of last year, they were ready to pass on the meaning of what KA meant to them.
After the parents departed about 7:00 everyone rushed in line for a BBQ dinner. All of a sudden we saw how much the school had grown overnight. There were now 267 students, and sadly, there was only one line for all these people. Somehow I must have had a little sign on me that said, “Why not cut in line here??” because I had a group of returning guys that cut in front of me—I suggested they go to the end of the line. A minute or two later, I saw them with plates in hand. So effective in my discipline! Then a group of returning girls cut in front of me. This time I played the heavy and walked them back in line. As soon as I was back in my place, would you believe it, the crown prince and his posse cuts right in front of me. I looked to my colleague and whispered, “We should say something, shouldn’t we? We’re supposed to treat him like everyone else.” She just smiled at me, so I put my arm around the prince and a buddy of his and said, “You know this is a pretty bold move on your first day at your new school to cut in front of a teacher. I mean we never forget things like this. Are you sure you really want to do this?” It didn’t seem to cultivate the kind of guilt I hoped, but they did offer to let me cut in front of them! I declined, and said, “all right just know I will be watching you, and if this happens again, we’ll be spending some time together at the back of lines.” I know I caved a little—but in my brain I thought, I didn’t make the first boys go back, I did make the group of girls, so it seemed sort of fair. Well, fair-ish.
This morning at breakfast I came up to a small group of the posse and I told them I appreciated that they were now waiting in line, doing the decent thing. The prince (he has a name I just want to protect him a little here—and we definitely don’t call him prince, we just call him by his name) turned and said, “Mr. John, it wasn’t this guy, just us two from last night. We’ll wait in line. Sorry about last night.”
So there.
Last night we continued a tradition from last year (does doing something twice make it a tradition?? My sister would vigorously agree!!) where the school comes together and each person takes a few seconds to introduce him/herself. Where you are from, your grade, your name, first/second year at the school. All 267 students. All 47 full-time faculty. All 15 Teaching Interns. All 18 Junior Fellows. It did take a little time.
Most of them are not terribly memorable introductions, of course, but you do get everyone speaking in front of people right off the bat. But there was one interesting—for lack of a better word—moment when a student introduced himself: “I am from a country that has been destroyed by that monkey named George Bush.” Oh. Little Awkward. A colleague and I turned to each other—we both had been on the Admissions Committee—and wondered, “is that a guy from Iraq or Afghanistan??” We have some students from both. Well, personal expression is a good thing, but there are better places of more appropriate discourse.
All the while during Orientation I have been preparing my opening packet for class tomorrow. I am teaching AP World History, and since it is a totally new course for me I started from that proverbial s-c-r-a-t-c-h. I always want to open an AP course dealing with a mixture of emotions, aiming to scare/intrigue/excite/caution/support/inspire them since it is such an undertaking. I wrote a little about the importance of trust in this course. Here is a little quotation from my opening packet:
Trust calms the fear that uncertainty breeds. In times of high uncertainty, we need to pay more attention to the source of trust—human connections and how we do what we do. Trust becomes, more vitally than ever, the currency of human exchange. And of course, trust begats trust. Trust brings groups together. I once read in a book about successful businesses a great acronym: TRIP.
Trust
Risk
Innovation
Progress
Trust is a heady concept. When I trust you, I am giving you the power to let me down or do right by me. I am taking a risk with this trust. But more importantly, trust is empowering to both parties. Trust is the engine that powers this TRIP. When trust is there, it enables risk, to leap higher. In a trusting environment everyone feels emboldened to take more risks, to venture into new territory, to solve problems. Innovation flows from this creative spirit. And of course, innovation leads to progress.
I had no idea last year at this time what to expect of the school year, let alone the first day of class. I have a pretty good idea that tomorrow we will begin pretty smoothly, and over the course of the year, I have an expectation of what these students can achieve. Last year their learning curve was steep. This weekend they proved that their transformation last year was not a fluke, but the beginning of a lifetime commitment to excellence. Our old students were punctual, dressed appropriately, and calm in the dorm. Last year we built this trust—one interaction at a time. It has changed us all.
Of course it is difficult to sum up what this experience has meant over the last 13 months. I mean there are almost 100 blog entries chronicling the ups and downs! But this whole experience reminds me of that old story of two guys doing masonry work on a building. The first one, when asked what he was doing, says, “Laying bricks.” The second one replies, “Building a Cathedral.” Some people see themselves merely as bricklayers, but we need to define ourselves less narrowly. Why not always aim higher and higher—to the sky even, concerning ourselves not just with what we are doing, but how we make it happen. We came here—to start a school from Scratch, and look at what we’ve got. We have the makings of a cathedral. I can see the skeletal structure. I wonder how high it will soar this year.
That image of a cathedral summons up visions of light and beauty, and also a Russian proverb: Education is light—lack of it darkness.
Almost midnight here, and time to rest before the first classes tomorrow.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
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!
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!
Saturday, August 23, 2008
What It’s All About
In a few hours I will get on a plane from my hometown in Cincinnati and make the trek back to Jordan.
I have had a 54 day sabbatical from the blog, and while, yes, I have taken a vacation from the tap-tap-tapping on the laptop, I have been steeped in the luxury and abundance of summer.
About two weeks ago I was in a beautiful 19th century house in Cambria, California, a bed-and-breakfast that Anne and I secured during our drive up the coast of California, and I looked over at the breakfast table and spied a coaster with the curious query: What if the Hokey Pokey really is what it’s all about?
I laughed and wondered what IT really must be all about. I looked back at my summer—a period of eight weeks of modest trips (Wisconsin, New York, and California) and memorable meals and meaningful conversations. Indeed, I decided to linger once more on what the luxury and abundance of the summer of 2008 held for me. I did no splashy foreign trips (I live in a foreign country now!) no intensive “National Endowment for the Humanities” seminars, neither labored over a major move, nor excavated stones or built walls. I ate and talked with people I hold dear to my heart and soul.
It was a quite a summer.
There was the dinner with Dawn, a friend since the Bicentennial of the United States, and we went to see our iconic high school AP history teacher, the irrepressible Mrs. Michaels. We three hadn’t been together in 20 years, and it was glorious reminiscing.
There was the night that Sylvia made her mouthwatering pulled pork for my family at her house, when summer was young and we had plans for movies and concerts and walks. There was a lunch at Sylvia’s just last week when summer began to fade, although I don’t think our friendship will. She invited her dear mother and our delightful high school English teacher, Mr. Justice. Lunch that day was about a four hour event. Dare I say we are Olympic lunchers?
There was the day deep in July when I decided to do a “Central Ohio Victory Tour” and drove nearly 500 miles in one day and got to enjoy three meals with three exquisite people. I met the divine Devane, my dear Sharon, at a Cracker Barrel to which we both drove hours just to catch up and re-connect. I then visited my 5th grade teacher, Miss Wilson, the woman to whom I owe the most in my educational career. Then I drove to Heath, Ohio, to see Tracey, the earth mother of the Denison Singers in my freshman year. I only got to spend 2 ½ hours with each friend, but what a day of sweet meals and conversation.
There was the bi-annual visit of old friend Tony to Cincinnati. He drives 100 miles to see me, and we go out for Indian food. This August was especially nice since we commemorated the 25th anniversary of our friendship. I can’t ascribe enough adjectives about his greatness.
There was breakfast with Debbie at First Watch—our regular breakfast meeting point and opportunity to revel in our 28 years of friendship since the 1980 All Ohio State Fair Youth Choir. It is a smile-fest as our gratitude beams.
There were meals and conversations in museums—with stellar Aunt Dot and Jim at the Cincinnati Art Museum café, and with wondrous Kate and luminous Fareeda at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and a fancy-schmancy dinner with Christy at the Museum of Modern Art in New York.
There was a picnic outside on the deck of the Polcari house with the Khosrowshahis—two families that have been kinder and more generous than I might have imagined.
There was an indoor picnic at Doris’ house—with her famed potato salad and roast chicken. You haven’t lived until you’ve tried that potato salad. This was a meeting of an old friend and a new friend as I brought KA friend Rehema in tow as we smiled and talked and heaped on the potato salad.
There was the rib and corn roast last week with my father and brother-in-law. For 50 years my father has gathered with this Police Masonic organization of grumpy old men as they try and outdo each other in consuming great brats, metts, corn and ribs. Many ask how my dad has stayed so thin…like I know?
There was the visit from the ever-lovin’ Sue, from northern Ohio—more of a “drive-by” visit since neither of us could fit in a “proper visit”—we stole some time away while she was shopping in Cincinnati. No matter—all good no matter what the time.
There was the late-night dessert festival with the amazing Unger family. If most of the family did not have to get up for work the following morning we might have just talked all night. A recipe for success—great dessert + great friends=great satisfaction.
There was the Italian meal with my Italian friends, the Canterinos. I haven’t taught a child of theirs in 8 years, yet every visit is fresh and alive and upbeat.
There was the evening with high school friends Doris and Sylvia at Shelley’s house, enjoying the low humidity that was the hallmark of this summer of 2008. Memories and the luxury and abundance of summer…enjoying the renaissance of friendship.
There were the California meals—with Anne and cousin Susan at Tom Ham’s Lighthouse in San Diego. Susan is one of those family members you wish lived so much closer so you could always call up and just start checking things out. Then there was the dinner with Anne on the beach at the “Del,” the Hotel Del Coronado, the beach resort of Some Like It Hot fame; or maybe the view was even more stunning up in the reaches of Big Sur, at the famed bohemian Nepenthe.
There was the family meal at Green Lake, Wisconsin, the place of annual retreat for my family, in days long gone by, and where my mother networked and learned with such passion on church missions ideas. We could feel the warmth of her her laugh and smile all over this oasis of beauty.
There was the steak dinner night before last with the Flowers—friends of my parents for 50 years, and as I have been told, I upstaged the bride a bit at their wedding, since this handsome infant was passed around with delight at their reception. They have stood by us and loved us since they forged their friendship a million years ago.
There was the spaghetti dinner with the Griley cousins—almost three hours of eating and talking and catching up. Eight of us sharing memories of the past, describing 2008 summer trips, and looking to the future for gatherings. Have I ever enjoyed them more?
There was the breakfast in the diner with Nancy, a mother of a dear student, but also a friend who offers loyalty and kindness at every turn. There was a breezy and beautiful lunch on the terrace at “the club” (always courtesy of the phenom Anne!) with Flavia, Meg and Diane. There was lunch with ebullient Diana, the math goddess, and another friend for the ages. Every time we part there is that ache again—how I wish we could teach together again.
So what did I do this summer? I ate. I talked. And with the conclusion of each meal, as the hugs ended and I sighed back to my car, every time, I felt blessed at the people I have in my life. It was the summer of the Great Meal and the Great Conversation. Of course I didn’t get to see everyone I love. I wish there had been two more weeks of summer so I could have enjoyed the Great Meal and the Great Conversation in the south: in Texas to see Judy and her clan, or Stephanie in Atlanta, or the Gastonia gang and the Charlotte clatch. But hopefully, there will be more Great Meals and Great Conversations.
I come by all this Olympian eating and talking quite naturally. For years my mother would whisk us off to school so that she could jet over to Frisch’s for her crucial morning coffee and visiting time. Now my father goes to the Imperial Diner 5 days a week (the “Institution of Higher Learning” as he affectionately calls it) where Pam presides over the daily meals and conversations of the ROMEO clique. (ROMEO as you might recall stands for Retired Old Men Eating Out). They revel in their self-proclaimed parallels to the fictional Boston bar in Cheers.
But I digress…the other morning I was talking with my dad’s friend Chris, a 93 year old man who has filled life’s bucket of joys and sorrows to the brim, and still smiles and cracks wise. I mentioned to him that my father had enjoyed the birthday breakfast party Chris had thrown for himself a few weeks earlier. He had taken about 30 friends out for breakfast, treating them himself. Chris leaned over to me, smiled, and said, “Well, you know John—friendship really is what it’s all about, now isn’t it?”
An exclamation point for the summer of 2008!
I have had a 54 day sabbatical from the blog, and while, yes, I have taken a vacation from the tap-tap-tapping on the laptop, I have been steeped in the luxury and abundance of summer.
About two weeks ago I was in a beautiful 19th century house in Cambria, California, a bed-and-breakfast that Anne and I secured during our drive up the coast of California, and I looked over at the breakfast table and spied a coaster with the curious query: What if the Hokey Pokey really is what it’s all about?
I laughed and wondered what IT really must be all about. I looked back at my summer—a period of eight weeks of modest trips (Wisconsin, New York, and California) and memorable meals and meaningful conversations. Indeed, I decided to linger once more on what the luxury and abundance of the summer of 2008 held for me. I did no splashy foreign trips (I live in a foreign country now!) no intensive “National Endowment for the Humanities” seminars, neither labored over a major move, nor excavated stones or built walls. I ate and talked with people I hold dear to my heart and soul.
It was a quite a summer.
There was the dinner with Dawn, a friend since the Bicentennial of the United States, and we went to see our iconic high school AP history teacher, the irrepressible Mrs. Michaels. We three hadn’t been together in 20 years, and it was glorious reminiscing.
There was the night that Sylvia made her mouthwatering pulled pork for my family at her house, when summer was young and we had plans for movies and concerts and walks. There was a lunch at Sylvia’s just last week when summer began to fade, although I don’t think our friendship will. She invited her dear mother and our delightful high school English teacher, Mr. Justice. Lunch that day was about a four hour event. Dare I say we are Olympic lunchers?
There was the day deep in July when I decided to do a “Central Ohio Victory Tour” and drove nearly 500 miles in one day and got to enjoy three meals with three exquisite people. I met the divine Devane, my dear Sharon, at a Cracker Barrel to which we both drove hours just to catch up and re-connect. I then visited my 5th grade teacher, Miss Wilson, the woman to whom I owe the most in my educational career. Then I drove to Heath, Ohio, to see Tracey, the earth mother of the Denison Singers in my freshman year. I only got to spend 2 ½ hours with each friend, but what a day of sweet meals and conversation.
There was the bi-annual visit of old friend Tony to Cincinnati. He drives 100 miles to see me, and we go out for Indian food. This August was especially nice since we commemorated the 25th anniversary of our friendship. I can’t ascribe enough adjectives about his greatness.
There was breakfast with Debbie at First Watch—our regular breakfast meeting point and opportunity to revel in our 28 years of friendship since the 1980 All Ohio State Fair Youth Choir. It is a smile-fest as our gratitude beams.
There were meals and conversations in museums—with stellar Aunt Dot and Jim at the Cincinnati Art Museum café, and with wondrous Kate and luminous Fareeda at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and a fancy-schmancy dinner with Christy at the Museum of Modern Art in New York.
There was a picnic outside on the deck of the Polcari house with the Khosrowshahis—two families that have been kinder and more generous than I might have imagined.
There was an indoor picnic at Doris’ house—with her famed potato salad and roast chicken. You haven’t lived until you’ve tried that potato salad. This was a meeting of an old friend and a new friend as I brought KA friend Rehema in tow as we smiled and talked and heaped on the potato salad.
There was the rib and corn roast last week with my father and brother-in-law. For 50 years my father has gathered with this Police Masonic organization of grumpy old men as they try and outdo each other in consuming great brats, metts, corn and ribs. Many ask how my dad has stayed so thin…like I know?
There was the visit from the ever-lovin’ Sue, from northern Ohio—more of a “drive-by” visit since neither of us could fit in a “proper visit”—we stole some time away while she was shopping in Cincinnati. No matter—all good no matter what the time.
There was the late-night dessert festival with the amazing Unger family. If most of the family did not have to get up for work the following morning we might have just talked all night. A recipe for success—great dessert + great friends=great satisfaction.
There was the Italian meal with my Italian friends, the Canterinos. I haven’t taught a child of theirs in 8 years, yet every visit is fresh and alive and upbeat.
There was the evening with high school friends Doris and Sylvia at Shelley’s house, enjoying the low humidity that was the hallmark of this summer of 2008. Memories and the luxury and abundance of summer…enjoying the renaissance of friendship.
There were the California meals—with Anne and cousin Susan at Tom Ham’s Lighthouse in San Diego. Susan is one of those family members you wish lived so much closer so you could always call up and just start checking things out. Then there was the dinner with Anne on the beach at the “Del,” the Hotel Del Coronado, the beach resort of Some Like It Hot fame; or maybe the view was even more stunning up in the reaches of Big Sur, at the famed bohemian Nepenthe.
There was the family meal at Green Lake, Wisconsin, the place of annual retreat for my family, in days long gone by, and where my mother networked and learned with such passion on church missions ideas. We could feel the warmth of her her laugh and smile all over this oasis of beauty.
There was the steak dinner night before last with the Flowers—friends of my parents for 50 years, and as I have been told, I upstaged the bride a bit at their wedding, since this handsome infant was passed around with delight at their reception. They have stood by us and loved us since they forged their friendship a million years ago.
There was the spaghetti dinner with the Griley cousins—almost three hours of eating and talking and catching up. Eight of us sharing memories of the past, describing 2008 summer trips, and looking to the future for gatherings. Have I ever enjoyed them more?
There was the breakfast in the diner with Nancy, a mother of a dear student, but also a friend who offers loyalty and kindness at every turn. There was a breezy and beautiful lunch on the terrace at “the club” (always courtesy of the phenom Anne!) with Flavia, Meg and Diane. There was lunch with ebullient Diana, the math goddess, and another friend for the ages. Every time we part there is that ache again—how I wish we could teach together again.
So what did I do this summer? I ate. I talked. And with the conclusion of each meal, as the hugs ended and I sighed back to my car, every time, I felt blessed at the people I have in my life. It was the summer of the Great Meal and the Great Conversation. Of course I didn’t get to see everyone I love. I wish there had been two more weeks of summer so I could have enjoyed the Great Meal and the Great Conversation in the south: in Texas to see Judy and her clan, or Stephanie in Atlanta, or the Gastonia gang and the Charlotte clatch. But hopefully, there will be more Great Meals and Great Conversations.
I come by all this Olympian eating and talking quite naturally. For years my mother would whisk us off to school so that she could jet over to Frisch’s for her crucial morning coffee and visiting time. Now my father goes to the Imperial Diner 5 days a week (the “Institution of Higher Learning” as he affectionately calls it) where Pam presides over the daily meals and conversations of the ROMEO clique. (ROMEO as you might recall stands for Retired Old Men Eating Out). They revel in their self-proclaimed parallels to the fictional Boston bar in Cheers.
But I digress…the other morning I was talking with my dad’s friend Chris, a 93 year old man who has filled life’s bucket of joys and sorrows to the brim, and still smiles and cracks wise. I mentioned to him that my father had enjoyed the birthday breakfast party Chris had thrown for himself a few weeks earlier. He had taken about 30 friends out for breakfast, treating them himself. Chris leaned over to me, smiled, and said, “Well, you know John—friendship really is what it’s all about, now isn’t it?”
An exclamation point for the summer of 2008!
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
The Year From A-Z
When I was a little boy, I loved to hang out by my mother’s desk in the kitchen. She was always planning something big—a party, or a mission festival at church, or an article she was writing—and I loved seeing what was strewn over her desk, seeing her thoughts and works in progress. On one side of her desk she had two framed “sayings,” the kind you might get in a Hallmark card store. One of them read, “Man cannot discover new oceans until he has the courage to lose sight of the shore.” Although my mother never did leave the shores of these United States, she cultivated a remarkable wanderlust, always yearned to discover new things, and instilled in me the desire to, as Mark Twain would say, “light out for the territories.” The other quotation on her desk was the John Donne saying, “No man is an island, entire of itself.” As much as my mother loved to be in charge of projects, she certainly understood that we are a part of a larger landscape of people, and most of what we do cannot be done alone. Like her curiosity with new places, she cultivated human connections. What lessons in those two little sayings...
As I look back on this last year—exactly one year ago today my father, brother-in-law, and I left my home in Tarrytown, New York, to unpack and store the gazillion boxes of my possessions in Cincinnati. Within a month I would be off for the adventure in Jordan; little did I know how much those sayings on my mother’s desk would bolster me, and reward me, as I navigated this change in life and career path. I discovered new places, new people, new smiles. And I reinforced the John Donne dictum that we need connections, that we must bridge the spaces between us. Indeed, relationships lie at the heart of who we are as humans. Though our jobs may make us wealthy, our relationships give us lasting value and enduring worth.
After today’s blog I will take a summer vacation—I will return in August, but it has been about 345 days since I started the blog last July, and it will be restorative to take a summer break. But before I begin the blog-sabbatical, I thought I would try and sum up this last year, with snapshots from A-Z. Here goes…
A As I learned Arabic words and phrases this year, it was very telling to me how many words in Arabic actually call on Allah, God. There are blessings for a fresh haircut, oaths, and cautions to get going fast, and of course, the wish that we will meet again, God willing, in the ubiquitous in’shallah.
B Oh, all right, I will show off my Arabic phraseology again with my favorite Arabic quip I learned this year: Bukra fil mish mish. This phrase is akin to our “when pigs fly!” declaration, or a more slacker version: yeah, right. It literally means, “Tomorrow, everyone will have apricots.” The phrase is also a good metaphor for some of the frustrations with bureaucracy in Jordan. It’ll get done, sir, bukra fil mish mish.
C C is for my extraordinary colleagues I worked with this year. The great Mr. Rogers once said, “The thing I remember about successful people I’ve met all through the years is their obvious delight in what they’re doing…and it seems to have very little to do with worldly success. They just love what they’re doing, and they love it in front of others.”
D D is for Damascus—which is a strange choice, I suppose, since I did not visit the ancient Syrian city this year. I had promised my father that I would not go anywhere he deemed ‘dangerous,’ and we got out the map to look at what that might mean. Syria was certainly on his hot-spot list to avoid, so I dutifully avoided Syria. But since many of my colleagues do go shopping in Damascus, I look forward to a trip there in Year 2, and so Damascus represents my future trips I will take this next year (along with Aleppo, Palmyra, Sinai, and Lebanon).
E If you are a regular blog-reader, you have heard of my BFF, Elizabeth. I delight in knowing her. She is a self-propelled wonder and a natural leader. Although she was a novice math teacher, she operated as if she had been doing this for years. She was always looking for new ways to approach math and present her material. She leaves us to start medical school, but the footprints that she leaves are golden.
F Last July 28, just before I left the US, my Aunt Dot had a party for our entire side of our Griley family. As if I needed reminding (!) this day was rich with family lore and connections, and offered me support and love to go out and discover some new oceans. How marvelous to have a family that imbues you with the courage to lose sight of the shore.
G Ahhh…the excitement of weekend get-away-trips from Jordan! From Petra to Kenya, Riyadh, Budapest, and Istanbul, it was a kick-in-the-pants to recruit, plan and revel in these trips.
H Haret Jdoudna is the default choice for a restaurant when living on the KA compound. It is just a 10-minute trip into Madaba, and the hot poofy bread, excellent dips, spreads and roasted meats in the stellar outdoor garden make it the go-to spot for guests or just an evening off-campus.
I This year I attended the Amman International Church whenever I was in town, and my trips there on Saturday represented one of those things we all crave in a new home setting: a routine, a hang-out, the regular thing we do. The laid-back protestant service was a wonderful way to spend the evening before the new school week the following day.
J Jabal Amman is the area in the old, old section of Amman that is fun to walk around with cobblestone streets, Turkish baths, good brunch spots, a view of the Roman section of Amman, and also the setting for the movie I loved, Captain Abu Raed.
K My student Rob offered one of my favorite comments of the year on his final exam. After his last essay his wrote, “Thanks Mr. John for giving me the key of knowledge this year. But you know, what you really did was show me that I had the key, and it was right there in the door all along.” Very gratifying.
L “Lubna’s Lounge” was the place-to-be at 9:15 every morning! After our first class, several of my fun rockin’ friends would meet in our faculty assistant Lubna’s office, have coffee, sing and dance and make sure our moneymakers were hangin’ in there. Chris and I would text each other as we walked over, trying to maximize our time together in our self-appointed lizard lounge.
M Mukawir is about a 30-minute drive from KA—and it is spectacular. On the wind-swept hill stand the remains of Herod’s summer palace, the supposed place where nearly 2000 years ago John the Baptist had his head lopped off after His Honor promised his wife and step-daughter. In one fell swoop you enjoy biblical history and a natural wonder of the world as the view screams down to the Dead Sea valley.
N You are thinking you have ‘P’ all pegged, don’t you? It has to be Petra, right?? Ahhh…I am a crazy minx, and I am shakin’ it up a little. Instead of celebrating Petra under the ‘P,’ I want to honor the architects of this wonder-of-the-world, the Nabateans. The Nabateans are the ancient civilization that created this city in stone, and a civilization we in the west have hardly discovered.
O O is for Onion. Hmmm…while roasted onions appear in many of the celebrated Arabic roasted fantasias, it is more the metaphor of the onion to which I allude. There are layers to an onion, and for the last year I have been peeling back the layers of Jordan, enjoying the discoveries in the successive layers.
P This spring I murdered Philip II with my 9th graders. I concocted this whole murder scenario and set these young scholars off to ferret out the suspects and the clues left at my constructed murder scene. They rose to the challenge and made it very exciting to be historical detectives.
Q Hamzah al Quda is one of the finest young men I have ever met. I have mentioned him often in blog entries, and must include him in my whirlwind tour of the year A-Z. Hamzah never aimed too high and missed. He made me love teaching every day.
R One of those friends of the heart is the marvelous Rehema. We went to church together, we laughed together—I know, it sounds like the makings of a “Lifetime” movie. Well yeah, so what! This woman from Africa who finished prep school in the U.S., took Harvard by storm, now adds a special re-re-radiance to our KA world.
S Remember last October? I, the camping-phobe went on safari in Kenya!
T One of the best mentors I have ever enjoyed is my neighbor in the dorm, Tessa. This remarkable woman has headed a celebrated school in Capetown, founded world-renowned organizations, and now is working with us in the trenches at KA. Her humor and her warmth are legendary. She embodies the John Bunyan quotation: “You have not lived today until you have done something for someone who can never repay you.”
U On one of the first nights in Jordan the entire KA staff went out for dinner and Arabic dancing. It was on this night I was introduced to the phenomenon of uulation, the exotic tongue-dancing. Maybe some time I will offer you my own little performance f this tricky exercise!
V One of my favorite books this year is called Vermeer’s Hat, a book in which the writer uses familiar Vermeer paintings as a portal to understanding 17th century global history. I had never before taught a real world history before, and it was exciting connecting the dots, historically, in new ways. This book, from the KA library is as exciting as trying to grasp the enormity and connectedness of the world itself.
W One of the most beautiful elements of the Jordanian landscape is the ruggedly striking, valleys, known as Wadis. They look just like mini-Grand Canyons and are utterly breathtaking.
X This one was easy—Jordan, especially in August is: Xtremely Hot.
Y Yasamin is a student I would not have pegged as a scholar-in-the-making. When our schedules all switched around in January, Yasamin was transferred out of my class. But Yasamin went to the Dean of Academic Affairs, and supposedly said, “I want Mr. John. He makes me work hard, and I need that. I must be in his class.” As the months flew by, this actual model became a model for how some hard work can transform you intellectually.
Z Karim al Zein is a wily boy. He is my advisee and in my class, and for awhile last fall I thought he was just a cut-up, a goof-off—you get the picture. While he remained notorious for not doing much of his homework (his grade never rose to what it might have had he done the assignments) on the last day of school, this devil-may-care rapscallion took me aside, and asked, “what do you think I accomplished this year?” We talked about the growing pains in academic transformation, but his query revealed how very much he is working at becoming an effective scholar.
From A-Z…
I am reminded of the old story about two guys doing masonry work on a building. The first one, when asked what he was doing, says, “Laying bricks.” The second replies, “Building a cathedral.” Some people see teachers as merely attendance-takers, paper-graders, naggers of homework, and setters of traps for young people, or worse, just baby-sitters. Not me. I have the best job in the world, and my first year at KA reminded me of the exhilaration in creating a classroom.
Last July, in my maiden blog voyage I wrote of the American named John Ledyard who set out for the Arab world in 1776 “on a passage to glory.”
It has been a glorious year, and as that 18th century American John L. wrote, “My heart is on fire,” I can concur.
Remember the website address, and come back and visit me in about six weeks. I will be gearing up for Year 2.
Thanks for reading.
As I look back on this last year—exactly one year ago today my father, brother-in-law, and I left my home in Tarrytown, New York, to unpack and store the gazillion boxes of my possessions in Cincinnati. Within a month I would be off for the adventure in Jordan; little did I know how much those sayings on my mother’s desk would bolster me, and reward me, as I navigated this change in life and career path. I discovered new places, new people, new smiles. And I reinforced the John Donne dictum that we need connections, that we must bridge the spaces between us. Indeed, relationships lie at the heart of who we are as humans. Though our jobs may make us wealthy, our relationships give us lasting value and enduring worth.
After today’s blog I will take a summer vacation—I will return in August, but it has been about 345 days since I started the blog last July, and it will be restorative to take a summer break. But before I begin the blog-sabbatical, I thought I would try and sum up this last year, with snapshots from A-Z. Here goes…
A As I learned Arabic words and phrases this year, it was very telling to me how many words in Arabic actually call on Allah, God. There are blessings for a fresh haircut, oaths, and cautions to get going fast, and of course, the wish that we will meet again, God willing, in the ubiquitous in’shallah.
B Oh, all right, I will show off my Arabic phraseology again with my favorite Arabic quip I learned this year: Bukra fil mish mish. This phrase is akin to our “when pigs fly!” declaration, or a more slacker version: yeah, right. It literally means, “Tomorrow, everyone will have apricots.” The phrase is also a good metaphor for some of the frustrations with bureaucracy in Jordan. It’ll get done, sir, bukra fil mish mish.
C C is for my extraordinary colleagues I worked with this year. The great Mr. Rogers once said, “The thing I remember about successful people I’ve met all through the years is their obvious delight in what they’re doing…and it seems to have very little to do with worldly success. They just love what they’re doing, and they love it in front of others.”
D D is for Damascus—which is a strange choice, I suppose, since I did not visit the ancient Syrian city this year. I had promised my father that I would not go anywhere he deemed ‘dangerous,’ and we got out the map to look at what that might mean. Syria was certainly on his hot-spot list to avoid, so I dutifully avoided Syria. But since many of my colleagues do go shopping in Damascus, I look forward to a trip there in Year 2, and so Damascus represents my future trips I will take this next year (along with Aleppo, Palmyra, Sinai, and Lebanon).
E If you are a regular blog-reader, you have heard of my BFF, Elizabeth. I delight in knowing her. She is a self-propelled wonder and a natural leader. Although she was a novice math teacher, she operated as if she had been doing this for years. She was always looking for new ways to approach math and present her material. She leaves us to start medical school, but the footprints that she leaves are golden.
F Last July 28, just before I left the US, my Aunt Dot had a party for our entire side of our Griley family. As if I needed reminding (!) this day was rich with family lore and connections, and offered me support and love to go out and discover some new oceans. How marvelous to have a family that imbues you with the courage to lose sight of the shore.
G Ahhh…the excitement of weekend get-away-trips from Jordan! From Petra to Kenya, Riyadh, Budapest, and Istanbul, it was a kick-in-the-pants to recruit, plan and revel in these trips.
H Haret Jdoudna is the default choice for a restaurant when living on the KA compound. It is just a 10-minute trip into Madaba, and the hot poofy bread, excellent dips, spreads and roasted meats in the stellar outdoor garden make it the go-to spot for guests or just an evening off-campus.
I This year I attended the Amman International Church whenever I was in town, and my trips there on Saturday represented one of those things we all crave in a new home setting: a routine, a hang-out, the regular thing we do. The laid-back protestant service was a wonderful way to spend the evening before the new school week the following day.
J Jabal Amman is the area in the old, old section of Amman that is fun to walk around with cobblestone streets, Turkish baths, good brunch spots, a view of the Roman section of Amman, and also the setting for the movie I loved, Captain Abu Raed.
K My student Rob offered one of my favorite comments of the year on his final exam. After his last essay his wrote, “Thanks Mr. John for giving me the key of knowledge this year. But you know, what you really did was show me that I had the key, and it was right there in the door all along.” Very gratifying.
L “Lubna’s Lounge” was the place-to-be at 9:15 every morning! After our first class, several of my fun rockin’ friends would meet in our faculty assistant Lubna’s office, have coffee, sing and dance and make sure our moneymakers were hangin’ in there. Chris and I would text each other as we walked over, trying to maximize our time together in our self-appointed lizard lounge.
M Mukawir is about a 30-minute drive from KA—and it is spectacular. On the wind-swept hill stand the remains of Herod’s summer palace, the supposed place where nearly 2000 years ago John the Baptist had his head lopped off after His Honor promised his wife and step-daughter. In one fell swoop you enjoy biblical history and a natural wonder of the world as the view screams down to the Dead Sea valley.
N You are thinking you have ‘P’ all pegged, don’t you? It has to be Petra, right?? Ahhh…I am a crazy minx, and I am shakin’ it up a little. Instead of celebrating Petra under the ‘P,’ I want to honor the architects of this wonder-of-the-world, the Nabateans. The Nabateans are the ancient civilization that created this city in stone, and a civilization we in the west have hardly discovered.
O O is for Onion. Hmmm…while roasted onions appear in many of the celebrated Arabic roasted fantasias, it is more the metaphor of the onion to which I allude. There are layers to an onion, and for the last year I have been peeling back the layers of Jordan, enjoying the discoveries in the successive layers.
P This spring I murdered Philip II with my 9th graders. I concocted this whole murder scenario and set these young scholars off to ferret out the suspects and the clues left at my constructed murder scene. They rose to the challenge and made it very exciting to be historical detectives.
Q Hamzah al Quda is one of the finest young men I have ever met. I have mentioned him often in blog entries, and must include him in my whirlwind tour of the year A-Z. Hamzah never aimed too high and missed. He made me love teaching every day.
R One of those friends of the heart is the marvelous Rehema. We went to church together, we laughed together—I know, it sounds like the makings of a “Lifetime” movie. Well yeah, so what! This woman from Africa who finished prep school in the U.S., took Harvard by storm, now adds a special re-re-radiance to our KA world.
S Remember last October? I, the camping-phobe went on safari in Kenya!
T One of the best mentors I have ever enjoyed is my neighbor in the dorm, Tessa. This remarkable woman has headed a celebrated school in Capetown, founded world-renowned organizations, and now is working with us in the trenches at KA. Her humor and her warmth are legendary. She embodies the John Bunyan quotation: “You have not lived today until you have done something for someone who can never repay you.”
U On one of the first nights in Jordan the entire KA staff went out for dinner and Arabic dancing. It was on this night I was introduced to the phenomenon of uulation, the exotic tongue-dancing. Maybe some time I will offer you my own little performance f this tricky exercise!
V One of my favorite books this year is called Vermeer’s Hat, a book in which the writer uses familiar Vermeer paintings as a portal to understanding 17th century global history. I had never before taught a real world history before, and it was exciting connecting the dots, historically, in new ways. This book, from the KA library is as exciting as trying to grasp the enormity and connectedness of the world itself.
W One of the most beautiful elements of the Jordanian landscape is the ruggedly striking, valleys, known as Wadis. They look just like mini-Grand Canyons and are utterly breathtaking.
X This one was easy—Jordan, especially in August is: Xtremely Hot.
Y Yasamin is a student I would not have pegged as a scholar-in-the-making. When our schedules all switched around in January, Yasamin was transferred out of my class. But Yasamin went to the Dean of Academic Affairs, and supposedly said, “I want Mr. John. He makes me work hard, and I need that. I must be in his class.” As the months flew by, this actual model became a model for how some hard work can transform you intellectually.
Z Karim al Zein is a wily boy. He is my advisee and in my class, and for awhile last fall I thought he was just a cut-up, a goof-off—you get the picture. While he remained notorious for not doing much of his homework (his grade never rose to what it might have had he done the assignments) on the last day of school, this devil-may-care rapscallion took me aside, and asked, “what do you think I accomplished this year?” We talked about the growing pains in academic transformation, but his query revealed how very much he is working at becoming an effective scholar.
From A-Z…
I am reminded of the old story about two guys doing masonry work on a building. The first one, when asked what he was doing, says, “Laying bricks.” The second replies, “Building a cathedral.” Some people see teachers as merely attendance-takers, paper-graders, naggers of homework, and setters of traps for young people, or worse, just baby-sitters. Not me. I have the best job in the world, and my first year at KA reminded me of the exhilaration in creating a classroom.
Last July, in my maiden blog voyage I wrote of the American named John Ledyard who set out for the Arab world in 1776 “on a passage to glory.”
It has been a glorious year, and as that 18th century American John L. wrote, “My heart is on fire,” I can concur.
Remember the website address, and come back and visit me in about six weeks. I will be gearing up for Year 2.
Thanks for reading.
Monday, June 30, 2008
“Wisdom and Wonder,” Part II
I am one of those teachers who save student papers. Hmmm…’save’ may be too mild a verb here, it would be more accurate to say I horde student papers. You wouldn’t believe the files I have accumulated over the years of student work! It is all stuff I had graded, but I managed to deflect student awareness over 20 years so that I might squirrel away papers for posterity from the hundreds of students I have taught But last year on this day, I finally cleaned out my classroom at Hackley, packing up the treasures and detritus of over a decade in one place. Unfortunately, as I packed up the Penske truck last June 30, I discovered that I could not take all those files I had been saving over the course of three schools’ work. The truck was not the size of a fort. Yes, it was pretty traumatic as I realized I was going to have to part with, simply abandon, papers going back to the late 1980s. But the truck and the car could only hold so much.
So now that you know that odd character trait (flaw? eccentricity?) about me, it won’t surprise you a bit that I stowed away the final papers of my young scholars to bring back to the United States. I may have cast aside dozens of papers last June 30, but I now have the beginnings of a new gold mine.
The other day I showed you some examples from my 9th graders’ final papers on The Giver. Here are a few more examples of the kind of thinking and writing these pioneer KA students offered this last month:
Karim: We read the article this year that stated, “Faith will unsettle politics everywhere.” This phrase talks about how faith will always disagree with the people on control and in this case Jonas and the Chief Elders. How Jonas started to believe and wanting change and that was faith and that unsettled the politics as it broke every rule and created disorder and that was the point….I personally regret all the times that I wasted instead of aiming for my best….Having most of the knowledge and then figuring things out and that’s what’s similar to Mr. John and the Giver. They let us set our own path, not follow the trail.
Jadallah: These memories have joy in them, but it fears me to allow my kids to go through what I felt. But the pain turned out to be a relief at the end of the day. The pain that put me down, and weakened my soul at that moment, has made me the man I am, and has strengthened every positive side of me and allowed me to be in control and has been worth the journey.
Maya: The one thing that Jonas and I share together is the love of learning, and the desire, that eager wanting just like a dictator and his want of power—of an education, of a future, will take you places, and make you someone.
Yasamin: As I read the back cover of the book I thought it was going to be another pointless fiction book with no true meaning, nothing to do with history and certainly nothing to do with my life….[However!] There are many parts of this novel that were like moments in history….When all the memories came out they looked to the Giver for help, like in the Great Depression when the Germans looked to Hitler for help.
Reem: As Martin Luther King wrote, “Many people fear nothing more terribly than to take a position which starts out sharply and clearly from the prevailing opinion.” This quote made me think about the book that we read in World History class….The thread that keeps the community together is “Sameness” and without this thread or if anyone wants to break that law they have to be “different” and most of the people would feel ashamed and won’t dare to be that way….One of the great historic figures that reminds me of Jonas…is Gandhi…Gandhi decides to take the path of “satyagraha” and it means the force of truth and it is no violence. This figure stood up against all opinions and achieved what he wanted without force.
Robert: [Rob re-writes the first paragraph of the novel amending all the references to Jonas with references about himself, showing a parallel to Jonas’ trajectory. Rob entitles his paper, “A Perpendicularly Parallel Life.”] We learn in the story about the glory of surprises, and that is the fun—they are surprises!
Hamzah: The Giver is a struggle of a boy with his own community, his own parents, and with his elders. Lois Lowry calls the main characters the Giver and the Receiver, but I see him as The Struggler, instead….The book says, “and still he did not understand.” It’s the same that happened to me when I became a student in KA. I was afraid, confused, I barely understood the teacher and what they wanted. Same for Jonas, he didn’t understand everything the Giver told him. However, when I spent more time with the teachers and in the school, I started to get everything right and completely understood what they wanted and how they wanted it….I stepped forward and said: I will take knowledge.
Thaer: Jonas’ discovery that all he used to be told are lies and his struggle to change his community reminds me of when the Soviet president Gorbachev cancelled the history exams in 1989 since all the textbooks were full of lies. Jonas’ discovery represents the historians’ further discoveries when they were allowed to look into the old Soviet files in the 1990s….Even our goal in history class is the same as what Jonas goes through—our goal is to feel what it is like to live in a certain era, and Jonas lived in those eras before Sameness and felt how life is there. My journey as a historian doesn’t differ from Jonas’—Jonas’ journey is crowned by a huge change in his community at the end….The capacity to see beyond is the most important characteristic required for a successful historian. Historians should be able to read between the lines and to speculate about the future. Another characteristic is to handle pain, and who says learning is not painful? However, if I handle the pain and insist on learning, like what Jonas did, I will be a successful historian able to change the world the way Jonas did….Like Jonas’ journey, in mine, I saw different colors in history class, and I have been experiencing beautiful events, such as the beginning of civilizations, the glory of Athens, and great moments of hope….What Jonas does after he knows the truth is what I’m trying to do; not to make people lie to each other and not to let history contain lies. Jonas succeeds in his journey, but will I succeed?
Raja: I look back at before I really became engaged with my history class and I realize that I was very silly, and quite stupid. Although I thought I was smart, and although I thought I was able to make wise decisions about things in my life, I really couldn’t….The equivalent of Jonas’ memories is the information I receive while in history class, the effect it has on me is similar to the effect of the memories on Jonas, astonishment, and then a sense of understanding. As I get information about things I am constantly reviewing it and analyzing it so I can understand….I love to analyze a moment in history. You first stare at it, more likely than not you are astonished by what is in front of you. Then you read through it, break it down, and then you put it all together to be able to make a statement about something. Jonas does all of this and his statement is clear….I think coming to KA in this day and age when there are so many problems, and so many more problems build behind closed gates that it is important for my generation to be able to know, to want and to be ready to make such decisions. If my generation does not look at things and make statements and make changes then it will be my generation and all the others after me that will suffer the consequences….When I understand, I too become a Giver….Looking back at the history of my student life that I never used to care about the knowledge about which I had little interest, however now I recognize the importance of all knowledge, especially the ones I find most boring because it means that I know the least about them.
Abdullah: We began the year in 1993, a year described by historian Howard Zinn as “in the summer of 1993, there is a general mood of despair.” However, I must protest, for in the summer of 1993 a small light of hope was born, and that light of hope was called Abdullah. The year is also the year of the birth of a very interesting book about a boy named Jonas. Throughout the 20th century mankind has made many of the stupidest mistakes it has made, and suffered, and still is, for them. These were made by stupid choices. What if one didn’t have to make these choices? How would the world be like if we didn’t have the curse/gift of making choices?....This Abdullah received a phone call that he had been accepted to attend KA—he would finally escape the usual memorization at school and actually have fun learning. He kept thinking about the courses he would take, and how they would be taught. He didn’t even think about History….The first lesson was longago and the only thing I remember is this: “Our goal in this course is to wonder how it felt like to stand in another historical era.” I didn’t quite understand that. The next week I remember Howard Zinn’s comment that, “I wanted to change the world, so I became a history teacher.” But I still didn’t understand, and I didn’t know it then, but Mr. John knew I didn’t….Jonas now sees the importance of questioning, of memories, of wisdom, of choices, and of history. He sees the reason the Chinese loved knowledge, and why Stalin only let people know what he wanted them to learn. He discovered that knowledge is the most powerful weapon, as I did this year.
So now that you know that odd character trait (flaw? eccentricity?) about me, it won’t surprise you a bit that I stowed away the final papers of my young scholars to bring back to the United States. I may have cast aside dozens of papers last June 30, but I now have the beginnings of a new gold mine.
The other day I showed you some examples from my 9th graders’ final papers on The Giver. Here are a few more examples of the kind of thinking and writing these pioneer KA students offered this last month:
Karim: We read the article this year that stated, “Faith will unsettle politics everywhere.” This phrase talks about how faith will always disagree with the people on control and in this case Jonas and the Chief Elders. How Jonas started to believe and wanting change and that was faith and that unsettled the politics as it broke every rule and created disorder and that was the point….I personally regret all the times that I wasted instead of aiming for my best….Having most of the knowledge and then figuring things out and that’s what’s similar to Mr. John and the Giver. They let us set our own path, not follow the trail.
Jadallah: These memories have joy in them, but it fears me to allow my kids to go through what I felt. But the pain turned out to be a relief at the end of the day. The pain that put me down, and weakened my soul at that moment, has made me the man I am, and has strengthened every positive side of me and allowed me to be in control and has been worth the journey.
Maya: The one thing that Jonas and I share together is the love of learning, and the desire, that eager wanting just like a dictator and his want of power—of an education, of a future, will take you places, and make you someone.
Yasamin: As I read the back cover of the book I thought it was going to be another pointless fiction book with no true meaning, nothing to do with history and certainly nothing to do with my life….[However!] There are many parts of this novel that were like moments in history….When all the memories came out they looked to the Giver for help, like in the Great Depression when the Germans looked to Hitler for help.
Reem: As Martin Luther King wrote, “Many people fear nothing more terribly than to take a position which starts out sharply and clearly from the prevailing opinion.” This quote made me think about the book that we read in World History class….The thread that keeps the community together is “Sameness” and without this thread or if anyone wants to break that law they have to be “different” and most of the people would feel ashamed and won’t dare to be that way….One of the great historic figures that reminds me of Jonas…is Gandhi…Gandhi decides to take the path of “satyagraha” and it means the force of truth and it is no violence. This figure stood up against all opinions and achieved what he wanted without force.
Robert: [Rob re-writes the first paragraph of the novel amending all the references to Jonas with references about himself, showing a parallel to Jonas’ trajectory. Rob entitles his paper, “A Perpendicularly Parallel Life.”] We learn in the story about the glory of surprises, and that is the fun—they are surprises!
Hamzah: The Giver is a struggle of a boy with his own community, his own parents, and with his elders. Lois Lowry calls the main characters the Giver and the Receiver, but I see him as The Struggler, instead….The book says, “and still he did not understand.” It’s the same that happened to me when I became a student in KA. I was afraid, confused, I barely understood the teacher and what they wanted. Same for Jonas, he didn’t understand everything the Giver told him. However, when I spent more time with the teachers and in the school, I started to get everything right and completely understood what they wanted and how they wanted it….I stepped forward and said: I will take knowledge.
Thaer: Jonas’ discovery that all he used to be told are lies and his struggle to change his community reminds me of when the Soviet president Gorbachev cancelled the history exams in 1989 since all the textbooks were full of lies. Jonas’ discovery represents the historians’ further discoveries when they were allowed to look into the old Soviet files in the 1990s….Even our goal in history class is the same as what Jonas goes through—our goal is to feel what it is like to live in a certain era, and Jonas lived in those eras before Sameness and felt how life is there. My journey as a historian doesn’t differ from Jonas’—Jonas’ journey is crowned by a huge change in his community at the end….The capacity to see beyond is the most important characteristic required for a successful historian. Historians should be able to read between the lines and to speculate about the future. Another characteristic is to handle pain, and who says learning is not painful? However, if I handle the pain and insist on learning, like what Jonas did, I will be a successful historian able to change the world the way Jonas did….Like Jonas’ journey, in mine, I saw different colors in history class, and I have been experiencing beautiful events, such as the beginning of civilizations, the glory of Athens, and great moments of hope….What Jonas does after he knows the truth is what I’m trying to do; not to make people lie to each other and not to let history contain lies. Jonas succeeds in his journey, but will I succeed?
Raja: I look back at before I really became engaged with my history class and I realize that I was very silly, and quite stupid. Although I thought I was smart, and although I thought I was able to make wise decisions about things in my life, I really couldn’t….The equivalent of Jonas’ memories is the information I receive while in history class, the effect it has on me is similar to the effect of the memories on Jonas, astonishment, and then a sense of understanding. As I get information about things I am constantly reviewing it and analyzing it so I can understand….I love to analyze a moment in history. You first stare at it, more likely than not you are astonished by what is in front of you. Then you read through it, break it down, and then you put it all together to be able to make a statement about something. Jonas does all of this and his statement is clear….I think coming to KA in this day and age when there are so many problems, and so many more problems build behind closed gates that it is important for my generation to be able to know, to want and to be ready to make such decisions. If my generation does not look at things and make statements and make changes then it will be my generation and all the others after me that will suffer the consequences….When I understand, I too become a Giver….Looking back at the history of my student life that I never used to care about the knowledge about which I had little interest, however now I recognize the importance of all knowledge, especially the ones I find most boring because it means that I know the least about them.
Abdullah: We began the year in 1993, a year described by historian Howard Zinn as “in the summer of 1993, there is a general mood of despair.” However, I must protest, for in the summer of 1993 a small light of hope was born, and that light of hope was called Abdullah. The year is also the year of the birth of a very interesting book about a boy named Jonas. Throughout the 20th century mankind has made many of the stupidest mistakes it has made, and suffered, and still is, for them. These were made by stupid choices. What if one didn’t have to make these choices? How would the world be like if we didn’t have the curse/gift of making choices?....This Abdullah received a phone call that he had been accepted to attend KA—he would finally escape the usual memorization at school and actually have fun learning. He kept thinking about the courses he would take, and how they would be taught. He didn’t even think about History….The first lesson was longago and the only thing I remember is this: “Our goal in this course is to wonder how it felt like to stand in another historical era.” I didn’t quite understand that. The next week I remember Howard Zinn’s comment that, “I wanted to change the world, so I became a history teacher.” But I still didn’t understand, and I didn’t know it then, but Mr. John knew I didn’t….Jonas now sees the importance of questioning, of memories, of wisdom, of choices, and of history. He sees the reason the Chinese loved knowledge, and why Stalin only let people know what he wanted them to learn. He discovered that knowledge is the most powerful weapon, as I did this year.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
“Wisdom begins in wonder”
My student Lana thus began her paper on Lois Lowry’s fable, The Giver, with that choice quotation by Confucius. There are many wonderful things about Lana’s paper, not least of which is that she had struggled with the notion of ‘wondering’ throughout much of the year. I urged Lana to become a historian who “gives in” to a sense of wonder, but she had trouble seeing the purpose of that in a course that seemed (to her) to require only memorization.
I assigned this Newberry Award-winning novel as a summative achievement in our World History course, and asked my 9th graders to write a paper unlike any assignment they had had in a history course. The novel traces the journey of a young man named Jonas as he comes of age and uncovers certain truths about his society (I am going to be purposefully vague about the synopsis of this book in the hopes that you might read this absorbing tale if you have not already discovered its beauties!). I asked my students to compare what Jonas had learned to what they had learned in their first year at KA. I reminded them of the elements I prize in an A paper: evaluation, connection and reflection. Just so you know how to get an A from me, that means, I want you to evaluate the most pungent passages in the book (based on criteria you create and explain), connect to something we have studied in history, and offer reflection that reveals your own voice and insight. We had practiced these skills all year, and I looked forward to how this open-ended question would come off in my scholars’ hands.
During my 12-hour flight home to the United States on Tuesday I re-read their papers (due on June 11) and enjoyed, again, the wondering and wisdom they demonstrated. I thought you might enjoy some of the moments I most enjoyed.
Leen: Just like Jonas, I was living in a normal life country that I called home. [Oman] I thought I knew what my life would like look like for the next four years….However, there was an unexpected change and I had to pack up to a new country and new friends and a new life….In the start of my experience, I was trying to be someone I am not, I was trying to impress others and be someone that I never could be. However, as my experience began to show me who I really was, I knew that I should show everyone around me the truth of myself and show them the truth of my world and my life. Just like Jonas, I needed to show everyone the truth.
Omar M: Jonas and I are alike because both of us are daydreamers, we have many passages where Jonas talks to himself wandering about a recent event that happened to him. I do the same thing in class and when I read a book, I spend half my time thinking about a key word or phrase. This habit is good because you can think about something deeply and bad because you might miss another important thing….Jonas is isolated in his world just like Nelson Mandela and Gandhi in jail because they had the truth, after Jonas was assigned as a receiver, he was forced to get insulated from the world because he knows a lot that can make people revolt on the government just like Nelson Mandela and Gandhi. Therefore knowledge is not always easy.
Farah: Just like Jonas, at school here, we can never learn enough new material….At KA we learn equality, we learn that no matter how different our backgrounds were, we are all working together in the hope of achieving something great for our own community over the upcoming years….”Frightened was the way we had felt a year ago [page 1]” and walking into classes the first day of school this year is just like becoming a 12. You get this strange feeling of apprehension as many doors open up in front of us expecting us to enter, welcoming us to acknowledge what awaits at the other side. Jonas experienced things he had never known, and I myself experienced boarding for the first time....Mostly, Jonas felt love, one of the deep memories he experienced, where a family was seated joyfully together. At KA’s “family unit” not a day passes by without people feeling this love and this sensation of one family….Jonas leaves his community with the knowledge given him by the Giver’s memories in order to make a change. We leave KA this year with the knowledge no other might have, receiving wisdom from our own givers, knowing we will make a difference, holding the key to our future, and hungry for even more experiences.
Omar D: I would like to compare The Giver to the “anatomy of a revolution,” an anatomy of change, as Crane Brinton talked about….People read about philosophers Montesquieu and Condorcet in the coffeehouses which is in the book the place where like Jonas receives his memories….The image of Jonas going out from the community and giving all the memories to the people is like the image of Newton coming to the world and enlightening it, “Let Newton be, and all was light….”Reading this book changed my point of view to the world. I now see myself as Jonas….At my ceremony of 14 I was selected to go to the world’s version of the Annex (the place where the Giver and Jonas meet to share the memories—KA) and there I learned the memories of the world.
Karim H: Jonas and the Giver were the ones to awaken the community, exactly like how America had awakened Japan in 1853….I began to look at colors like something that can be lost, and not be taken for granted, there was some pain in some memories, there was a phrase that Mr. John told us of his friend who said, “real learning keeps the pain awake.” There were memories of love and during the year I learned to love other people and make new friends….[Karim compared the Five Guiding Principles of KA with the traits that Jonas needed in the book.] We need courage for many things at KA. Especially to stand up in front of other people and say something. This helps in learning, we need courage to achieve love of learning, because it needs courage to give a speech and deal with exams and assignments.
Yazan: The story of The Giver was written in 1993, the year I came to life. In this community, the writer tells us that “rules were very hard to change,” just like Gandhi when he wanted colored people in South Africa to be equal to white people in South Africa. He reached his goal after a long period of suffering by using satyagraha which is a resistance of civil disobedience….In the book there is a line: “there will be changes.” This reminds me of August 5, 2007 when my parents told me I should go to KA. I didn’t want to be separated from my friends, but my parents told me I had to think of my own benefit and my own future. My father said, “You might be lucky enough to be accepted and it is your birthday, remember?” [Yazan remembers the line that Howard Zinn insists on hope, and in his paper Yazan compares hope to Jonas’ younger brother Gabe. Yazan writes that Howard “Zinn would insist on Gabe.”] Jonas wanted change, he believed in himself, he had great expectations and a desire for change which pulled him more to have a major change, what is called a revolution. His Majesty King Abdullah II is hoping to succeed in the peace process of Palestine, but he is trying to make sure that everyone is pleased and no one is offended, having preternatural expectations for the strive of peace.
Lana: “Wisdom begins in wonder.” By Confucius. Wisdom is not an easy thing to gain. Wonder is not an easy thing to do. But you can never gain knowledge is you don’t wonder. The whole time I was reading The Giver¸ I was wondering. At first I did not understand what was going on. I was wondering, wondering, wondering. Again this magic word WONDER that wisdom spins around kept repeating in my head until I understood the whole thing. If you are not thinking about your world, about the fact that it might need changes, you won’t get what wisdom means….I am reminded about the first day at KA when I kept repeating the same phrase to all the teachers which is I CAN’T! I never knew what I could do until I tried this great experience here at KA. I think the word that best describes Jonas and I is persistence.
Qusai: This year we wanted to be better historians and be able to analyze facts and determine in what way we can use them. In addition, we concentrated on standing in different historical eras to see, feel, experience what it would be to be a witness on very important historical events….Jonas’ “capacity to see beyond” is similar to The Treason of Images that was made by Rene Magritte in 1928 that showed how people should be able to see beyond the reality, beyond the limits of the human imagination, to have a clearer vision of the hidden goal in a journey, or to avoid the art of illusions that our eyes deliver to our minds to feel the satisfaction.
Mohammad: Jonas was confused. He was confused the same way I was on the beginning of the school year when Dr. Eric and Dr. Meera started talking about the principles of the school and when Mr. John started talking about the artworks from 20,000 years ago. I was confused because it is a new thing that I not used to so it is the same feeling that Jonas felt.
Rashed: This is the first book I have ever read in my entire life. And I actually liked it. It is a story about a boy named Jonas who was like me in the beginning of the year, a small flower, but as he grew older and his wisdom grew with him, he blossomed. [Rashed describes Jonas in several ways.] Jonas was enlightened by these memories and he began to question authority, just like Martin Luther who started a whole new aspect of religion because he questioned the authority of the Pope.
Faris: Jonas and I both love our bicycles. We can’t wait to get to them.
I will share another dozen students’ work with you in a day or two…
I assigned this Newberry Award-winning novel as a summative achievement in our World History course, and asked my 9th graders to write a paper unlike any assignment they had had in a history course. The novel traces the journey of a young man named Jonas as he comes of age and uncovers certain truths about his society (I am going to be purposefully vague about the synopsis of this book in the hopes that you might read this absorbing tale if you have not already discovered its beauties!). I asked my students to compare what Jonas had learned to what they had learned in their first year at KA. I reminded them of the elements I prize in an A paper: evaluation, connection and reflection. Just so you know how to get an A from me, that means, I want you to evaluate the most pungent passages in the book (based on criteria you create and explain), connect to something we have studied in history, and offer reflection that reveals your own voice and insight. We had practiced these skills all year, and I looked forward to how this open-ended question would come off in my scholars’ hands.
During my 12-hour flight home to the United States on Tuesday I re-read their papers (due on June 11) and enjoyed, again, the wondering and wisdom they demonstrated. I thought you might enjoy some of the moments I most enjoyed.
Leen: Just like Jonas, I was living in a normal life country that I called home. [Oman] I thought I knew what my life would like look like for the next four years….However, there was an unexpected change and I had to pack up to a new country and new friends and a new life….In the start of my experience, I was trying to be someone I am not, I was trying to impress others and be someone that I never could be. However, as my experience began to show me who I really was, I knew that I should show everyone around me the truth of myself and show them the truth of my world and my life. Just like Jonas, I needed to show everyone the truth.
Omar M: Jonas and I are alike because both of us are daydreamers, we have many passages where Jonas talks to himself wandering about a recent event that happened to him. I do the same thing in class and when I read a book, I spend half my time thinking about a key word or phrase. This habit is good because you can think about something deeply and bad because you might miss another important thing….Jonas is isolated in his world just like Nelson Mandela and Gandhi in jail because they had the truth, after Jonas was assigned as a receiver, he was forced to get insulated from the world because he knows a lot that can make people revolt on the government just like Nelson Mandela and Gandhi. Therefore knowledge is not always easy.
Farah: Just like Jonas, at school here, we can never learn enough new material….At KA we learn equality, we learn that no matter how different our backgrounds were, we are all working together in the hope of achieving something great for our own community over the upcoming years….”Frightened was the way we had felt a year ago [page 1]” and walking into classes the first day of school this year is just like becoming a 12. You get this strange feeling of apprehension as many doors open up in front of us expecting us to enter, welcoming us to acknowledge what awaits at the other side. Jonas experienced things he had never known, and I myself experienced boarding for the first time....Mostly, Jonas felt love, one of the deep memories he experienced, where a family was seated joyfully together. At KA’s “family unit” not a day passes by without people feeling this love and this sensation of one family….Jonas leaves his community with the knowledge given him by the Giver’s memories in order to make a change. We leave KA this year with the knowledge no other might have, receiving wisdom from our own givers, knowing we will make a difference, holding the key to our future, and hungry for even more experiences.
Omar D: I would like to compare The Giver to the “anatomy of a revolution,” an anatomy of change, as Crane Brinton talked about….People read about philosophers Montesquieu and Condorcet in the coffeehouses which is in the book the place where like Jonas receives his memories….The image of Jonas going out from the community and giving all the memories to the people is like the image of Newton coming to the world and enlightening it, “Let Newton be, and all was light….”Reading this book changed my point of view to the world. I now see myself as Jonas….At my ceremony of 14 I was selected to go to the world’s version of the Annex (the place where the Giver and Jonas meet to share the memories—KA) and there I learned the memories of the world.
Karim H: Jonas and the Giver were the ones to awaken the community, exactly like how America had awakened Japan in 1853….I began to look at colors like something that can be lost, and not be taken for granted, there was some pain in some memories, there was a phrase that Mr. John told us of his friend who said, “real learning keeps the pain awake.” There were memories of love and during the year I learned to love other people and make new friends….[Karim compared the Five Guiding Principles of KA with the traits that Jonas needed in the book.] We need courage for many things at KA. Especially to stand up in front of other people and say something. This helps in learning, we need courage to achieve love of learning, because it needs courage to give a speech and deal with exams and assignments.
Yazan: The story of The Giver was written in 1993, the year I came to life. In this community, the writer tells us that “rules were very hard to change,” just like Gandhi when he wanted colored people in South Africa to be equal to white people in South Africa. He reached his goal after a long period of suffering by using satyagraha which is a resistance of civil disobedience….In the book there is a line: “there will be changes.” This reminds me of August 5, 2007 when my parents told me I should go to KA. I didn’t want to be separated from my friends, but my parents told me I had to think of my own benefit and my own future. My father said, “You might be lucky enough to be accepted and it is your birthday, remember?” [Yazan remembers the line that Howard Zinn insists on hope, and in his paper Yazan compares hope to Jonas’ younger brother Gabe. Yazan writes that Howard “Zinn would insist on Gabe.”] Jonas wanted change, he believed in himself, he had great expectations and a desire for change which pulled him more to have a major change, what is called a revolution. His Majesty King Abdullah II is hoping to succeed in the peace process of Palestine, but he is trying to make sure that everyone is pleased and no one is offended, having preternatural expectations for the strive of peace.
Lana: “Wisdom begins in wonder.” By Confucius. Wisdom is not an easy thing to gain. Wonder is not an easy thing to do. But you can never gain knowledge is you don’t wonder. The whole time I was reading The Giver¸ I was wondering. At first I did not understand what was going on. I was wondering, wondering, wondering. Again this magic word WONDER that wisdom spins around kept repeating in my head until I understood the whole thing. If you are not thinking about your world, about the fact that it might need changes, you won’t get what wisdom means….I am reminded about the first day at KA when I kept repeating the same phrase to all the teachers which is I CAN’T! I never knew what I could do until I tried this great experience here at KA. I think the word that best describes Jonas and I is persistence.
Qusai: This year we wanted to be better historians and be able to analyze facts and determine in what way we can use them. In addition, we concentrated on standing in different historical eras to see, feel, experience what it would be to be a witness on very important historical events….Jonas’ “capacity to see beyond” is similar to The Treason of Images that was made by Rene Magritte in 1928 that showed how people should be able to see beyond the reality, beyond the limits of the human imagination, to have a clearer vision of the hidden goal in a journey, or to avoid the art of illusions that our eyes deliver to our minds to feel the satisfaction.
Mohammad: Jonas was confused. He was confused the same way I was on the beginning of the school year when Dr. Eric and Dr. Meera started talking about the principles of the school and when Mr. John started talking about the artworks from 20,000 years ago. I was confused because it is a new thing that I not used to so it is the same feeling that Jonas felt.
Rashed: This is the first book I have ever read in my entire life. And I actually liked it. It is a story about a boy named Jonas who was like me in the beginning of the year, a small flower, but as he grew older and his wisdom grew with him, he blossomed. [Rashed describes Jonas in several ways.] Jonas was enlightened by these memories and he began to question authority, just like Martin Luther who started a whole new aspect of religion because he questioned the authority of the Pope.
Faris: Jonas and I both love our bicycles. We can’t wait to get to them.
I will share another dozen students’ work with you in a day or two…
Monday, June 23, 2008
Waiting To Exhale
537 days ago I first met Eric, the head of this nascent school, KA in Jordan. We had dinner in New York, guests of my dear friends Anne and Peter. I held my breath as he relayed the vision of this school, and mused about how exciting it would be to work amongst the founding faculty of such a daring project. I held my breath as I dared think whether he would ask me to join in this venture. For so many reasons, I have been holding my breath for 537 days.
I held my breath as I wondered whether it was safe to go to live in the Middle East. I held my breath as I mulled over the offer to head the History Department at KA. I held my breath as I pondered whether I should leave the confines of my comfortable Westchester and Manhattan life. I held my breath as I worried how I would approach the subject with my family. I held my breath as I flew for a weekend trial visit to Jordan. I held my breath as I prayed for discernment about the direction of my life. I held my breath as I questioned my fears and insecurities. I held my breath as I resolved to start afresh, from scratch, at KA. I held my breath as I told my beloved students at Hackley that I would be leaving at the end of the school year. I held my breath as I braced myself to tell everyone I would become an ex-patriate and live between Iraq and Israel. I held my breath as I designed new courses for a student body I had never met. I held my breath as I introduced myself, via the cyber-waves of email, to soon-to-be colleagues. I held my breath as I anticipated the “last” of everything at Hackley. I held my breath as I welcomed invitations for dinners and lunches from soon-to-be former students. I held my breath as I concluded the final days of my courses. I held my breath as I cried through my last graduation at Hackley. I held my breath as I packed up the boxes—85 in all—of books I had around me in New York. I held my breath as I planned the minutiae of moving and shipping a life. I held my breath as I faced the panic attacks of starting over. I held my breath as my dad and brother-in-law arrived to spearhead the cross-country (well, from the east coast to the Midwest) drive. I held my breath as I bid adieu to friends whose hearts we had mutually touched. I held my breath as I typed up the first of what is so-far 90 blog entries. I held my breath as I got on that plane.
This is my fourth school in my teaching career, and whenever you are new, no matter how seasoned you may be, you hold your breath that entire first year. Up until that last meeting of the year, you are not quite sure what might be around the next corner. In effect, I have been holding my breath for 537 days.
Yesterday I completed the cycle of meetings. It was a long day—from several hours of faculty discussions to manic jags trying to secure financial reimbursements (like for relocating 11 months ago!) to a splashy meeting with new parents for fall course registration to a wedding party for a colleague, to packing and cleaning for the summer. But it is finished, and now in about an hour I will grab a ride from my great friend Sam, and he will whisk me to the airport in Amman and I will be home in hometown Cincinnati before midnight tonight.
To call this year eventful is quite an understatement. Everything was a first. Everything had to be named. Everything required a discussion, or at least a snap decision. We had a contest to name the school mascot, a contest to name the school newspaper, the new traffic circle, and the literary magazine, et cetera. We had the first sports defeat, the first sports win, the first expulsion, the first play, the first music concert, the first Ramadan, the first exam period—every single thing was new to somebody, either from an Arab perspective or an American perspective, or both.
The literary magazine was christened, Al-Majnoonah, and in the preface, our Dean of Faculty wrote:
“Al-Majnoonah—literally “the crazy woman”—refers to the flowering vine of the bougainvillea, remarkable for its ability to flower prolifically in vivid shades of orange, vermillion, magenta, and lavender. Its hardiness allows it to withstand difficult climactic conditions, and its numerous sharp thorns protect it from external depredations.
Blooming wildly, resilient, beautiful, eccentric, and occasionally prickly—these are the contours of our literary and arts journal…where we hope knowledge will always flower….”
This afternoon as I rushed to my classroom to hide the valuables (as was suggested) and take down the posters, I took from my desk drawer one of my so-called valuables to hide in my apartment for the summer. It was a gift from my sister from Staples, and it is the device, the magic button, that when you press the big red “EASY” disk, it calls out, “That was easy.” I had used it during the year on test days if a student was so inclined to push the easy button upon his/her departure from the test.
Last night, after the evening of Arab dancing and American karaoke (it was an American teacher and a Jordanian buildings-and-grounds man who married) I walked home, and of course, waxed a little philosophical. What had we accomplished this year? We implemented a plan for a school that was utterly progressive, utterly optimistic, utterly idealistic, and utterly necessary.
We coaxed this plan to come alive. We crafted decisions, often making it all up as we went along, that may shape the school for decades. We made history. We trusted that we would all show up and be consumed by the pioneering spirit. We defined what we are supposed to be doing in life.
In the last three days we met as a faculty about 8 hours a day, trying to refine the decisions of this first year, trying to steer this ship even more on course. These were long days—I had never had so many meetings, and yeah, of course you don’t like them, but they asked us for input, and after 20 years I had never seen meetings where faculty actually contributed and discussed and debated.
I arrived here on July 31, 2007. Today was the last day of faculty business. Essentially, it has been a 47-week school year. I’m sure there will be more reflection, but for right now, it is time to breathe.
Sigh. Whoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooosh…
That was easy.
I held my breath as I wondered whether it was safe to go to live in the Middle East. I held my breath as I mulled over the offer to head the History Department at KA. I held my breath as I pondered whether I should leave the confines of my comfortable Westchester and Manhattan life. I held my breath as I worried how I would approach the subject with my family. I held my breath as I flew for a weekend trial visit to Jordan. I held my breath as I prayed for discernment about the direction of my life. I held my breath as I questioned my fears and insecurities. I held my breath as I resolved to start afresh, from scratch, at KA. I held my breath as I told my beloved students at Hackley that I would be leaving at the end of the school year. I held my breath as I braced myself to tell everyone I would become an ex-patriate and live between Iraq and Israel. I held my breath as I designed new courses for a student body I had never met. I held my breath as I introduced myself, via the cyber-waves of email, to soon-to-be colleagues. I held my breath as I anticipated the “last” of everything at Hackley. I held my breath as I welcomed invitations for dinners and lunches from soon-to-be former students. I held my breath as I concluded the final days of my courses. I held my breath as I cried through my last graduation at Hackley. I held my breath as I packed up the boxes—85 in all—of books I had around me in New York. I held my breath as I planned the minutiae of moving and shipping a life. I held my breath as I faced the panic attacks of starting over. I held my breath as my dad and brother-in-law arrived to spearhead the cross-country (well, from the east coast to the Midwest) drive. I held my breath as I bid adieu to friends whose hearts we had mutually touched. I held my breath as I typed up the first of what is so-far 90 blog entries. I held my breath as I got on that plane.
This is my fourth school in my teaching career, and whenever you are new, no matter how seasoned you may be, you hold your breath that entire first year. Up until that last meeting of the year, you are not quite sure what might be around the next corner. In effect, I have been holding my breath for 537 days.
Yesterday I completed the cycle of meetings. It was a long day—from several hours of faculty discussions to manic jags trying to secure financial reimbursements (like for relocating 11 months ago!) to a splashy meeting with new parents for fall course registration to a wedding party for a colleague, to packing and cleaning for the summer. But it is finished, and now in about an hour I will grab a ride from my great friend Sam, and he will whisk me to the airport in Amman and I will be home in hometown Cincinnati before midnight tonight.
To call this year eventful is quite an understatement. Everything was a first. Everything had to be named. Everything required a discussion, or at least a snap decision. We had a contest to name the school mascot, a contest to name the school newspaper, the new traffic circle, and the literary magazine, et cetera. We had the first sports defeat, the first sports win, the first expulsion, the first play, the first music concert, the first Ramadan, the first exam period—every single thing was new to somebody, either from an Arab perspective or an American perspective, or both.
The literary magazine was christened, Al-Majnoonah, and in the preface, our Dean of Faculty wrote:
“Al-Majnoonah—literally “the crazy woman”—refers to the flowering vine of the bougainvillea, remarkable for its ability to flower prolifically in vivid shades of orange, vermillion, magenta, and lavender. Its hardiness allows it to withstand difficult climactic conditions, and its numerous sharp thorns protect it from external depredations.
Blooming wildly, resilient, beautiful, eccentric, and occasionally prickly—these are the contours of our literary and arts journal…where we hope knowledge will always flower….”
This afternoon as I rushed to my classroom to hide the valuables (as was suggested) and take down the posters, I took from my desk drawer one of my so-called valuables to hide in my apartment for the summer. It was a gift from my sister from Staples, and it is the device, the magic button, that when you press the big red “EASY” disk, it calls out, “That was easy.” I had used it during the year on test days if a student was so inclined to push the easy button upon his/her departure from the test.
Last night, after the evening of Arab dancing and American karaoke (it was an American teacher and a Jordanian buildings-and-grounds man who married) I walked home, and of course, waxed a little philosophical. What had we accomplished this year? We implemented a plan for a school that was utterly progressive, utterly optimistic, utterly idealistic, and utterly necessary.
We coaxed this plan to come alive. We crafted decisions, often making it all up as we went along, that may shape the school for decades. We made history. We trusted that we would all show up and be consumed by the pioneering spirit. We defined what we are supposed to be doing in life.
In the last three days we met as a faculty about 8 hours a day, trying to refine the decisions of this first year, trying to steer this ship even more on course. These were long days—I had never had so many meetings, and yeah, of course you don’t like them, but they asked us for input, and after 20 years I had never seen meetings where faculty actually contributed and discussed and debated.
I arrived here on July 31, 2007. Today was the last day of faculty business. Essentially, it has been a 47-week school year. I’m sure there will be more reflection, but for right now, it is time to breathe.
Sigh. Whoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooosh…
That was easy.
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