Switching Positions

Well, it has been a week longer than I thought that this update would take, but I guess that late is better than never, yes?

Much has happened in the past month, and the majority of it has to do with my transition into the role of "resource manager" over here at GES. Before returning, I thought that this role would be a nice, easy job that would provide me with a much more flexible lifestyle, complete with extra opportunities to engage in more directed ministry. Well, let's just say that that ideal situation is one that looms off in the horizon—it's a reachable goal, but there is a journey ahead of me that must be trod ere I rest at that haven.

It's funny to me, thinking as I do right now, that I actually miss teaching Math. Not so much that I am passionate about the subject—which I'm not—nor that I even enjoy the field—it was my worst subject in high school, and ergo, my least favourite—but the reason I find myself missing teaching Math is because I miss my students. It's funny how you can struggle & struggle, how you can bleed, cry & sweat through some of the most taxing (mentally) experiences of your life only to find that, having gone through the gambit, you take pleasure & ownership in leading others through the precarious maze. Yeah, I miss teaching math. I miss helping my students learn & grow. I miss interacting with the wide variety of personalities & I miss trying to reach each of them in a way that suits them best. I sure as heck don't miss marking Math assignments though. Man, math marking is the devil.

For all of you newbie teachers out there, hear it from the horse's mouth: everything gets easier the second time around. Yes, you may have been told this in your classes, or in a textbook or from people who know people who've taught for years, but coming from a guy who never had a stitch of teaching instruction and then teaching the most difficult content in all of high school—having him say that it gets easier after the first year might carry a little more weight [at least I think it does :)]. In fact, it was surprisingly easier: I didn't have to teach myself the content before teaching my students; I didn't have to shoot blindly in the dark with examples or methods of teaching. I had an arsenal of experience 10 months long with which I could begin tailoring my instruction for each student. It was great (minus the marking)... And then I got transferred.


Aaron, the new Math teacher came in to BKK for the first time ever with his wife, Lorrie, on the 5th of July. I was told that he was an Education graduate who majored in Mathematics. "Great," I thought, "This should be a smooth transition." I had previously been in e-mail contact with him & had given him access to online copies of our textbooks, and after a few days of getting over jet-lag, he sat in on some of my classes to observe how I had been running the classes so far. After one afternoon class, I asked Aaron what he thought & if he had any comments or ideas about how the class should progress. He replied to me saying that he pretty much had no idea, as he'd never taught a class before. "Surely", I thought, "an Ed. student would have had a practicum already!" and I asked him about this, only to discover that he wasn't a math education major—only ("only!" Ha! As if it was any less of a degree!) a guy with a math degree.

Now, this blew my mind & caused a radical paradigm shift in my noggin' as to what this year was going to look like. I now knew that I could (and probably would, if not at least "should") become a primary resource for Aaron to draw from as he took over the courses that I had designed through much strife & grief last year. I wouldn't want a soul to have to tread the same path that I had trod—especially if I could help him avoid the pitfalls that I'd tumbled into along the way. That being said, I hoped that he gathered some ideas from his observations & asked, from this conversation, if he'd be comfortable teaching a class or two that Friday. I'd observe & give comments about things he could work on in the precious few moments he had before flying "solo:" a dress-rehearsal for this year's Math Show, as it were.

Things went well for him that Friday, and I cleaned up the few remaining assignments that needed to be graded, and then I was officially cut off from the high school Math program (again, a bittersweet experience). The following Monday—this past one, in fact—I assumed the position of Resource Manager, the primary occupation of which was and is to operate the school's library. Unfortunately, there was no real orientation or on-the-job training or in-service or manual or... anything for me to have, really, before being cast to the rabid dogs. The only morsel that was flung my way came by the previous librarian's five minute show & tell of where the books were, how she kept the loan cards & records and what she did to manage overdues (there was a tiny bin wherein their overdue books' loan cards were filed, according to class but not to student). And then, the first class came in.


To say the least, it was a gong show, and it still will be until I find some sort of system that I can use to keep records & to manage the information exchange. Not only was the current record-keeping system for loans inefficient, but the actual book records were beyond nightmarish. None of the past librarians kept a consistent method of keeping records for books, as they are enumerated and filed by any of the following methods: under the author's first name, under the author's last name, under the book's publishing company, under the book's series, under the main title of the book, under the sub-title of the book, and even—I think—some filed under the first phrase on the first page of the book. Yikes.

Don't get me started on shelving & the organisation of the book collection. Let's just say that "general disarray" is the status quo of the library, and this literary warzone is going to need a great deal of TLC before the paperback shrapnel metamorphs into a viable pool of words.
Did I mention that there is no master catalogue, which means that nobody even knows what books we have & what books have been lost? Yep. That's right.


* * * * *

Anyway, the long drudgery of digging myself out of the slime pit aside, let's talk about other things that have happened in the past few weeks. Like going to Angkor Wat, for example.

As I write this letter, I'm sitting on a bus bound for Bangkok from the north-western region of Cambodia, wherein lies the renowned Angkor Wat. The place is spectacular. Utterly spectacular. Awe-striking and wondrously immense. Aside from the wat proper are several other temples and cities of stone peppered throughout the jungle, awaiting your wandering eyes & legs to grace the thousand-year old hallways. I can't say much more, because it wouldn't do service to the site—to the intricacies of the sandstone carvings worked out so immaculately that each of the several thousand 18" figures carved in the walls all had noses with nostrils & bellybuttons and eyes with pupils. And these are carved into stone blocks that make up walls, much less the more ornate sculptures & structures that make up the complex of Angkor.

One thing I will say about the place, however, is that in light of the amazingness of the place, I couldn't help but feel grieved. In many of the centuries-old corridors and in practically all of the temples' many sanctums were statues of Buddha. Some were sitting there, not having been moved for hundreds of years & still in good condition; others were decaying, having lost arms, legs or heads; still others were mere fragments of the statues that they once were; yet among the most grieving were the ones that were made of porcelain with the fresh coating of paint on them that stood beside half a torso of a former idol—each with an altar of incense in front of them & each wearing sacrificial garlands of flowers and each shaded by golden parasols to protect them. What place is this and what twisted reasoning exists in this that mere blocks of stone—even decayed rubble—get more attention, more love and more money than the hundreds of children & scores of war amputees that chase visitors around the park desperately trying to sell you their trinkets? It blew my mind & made me sick.

Yes, one thing of note about Angkor Wat is that every Cambodian and their dog in the park will follow you relentlessly to try & sell you anything that they can, be it postcards, cold water, skirts & bracelets or musical instruments that are too big & too fragile for you to take on the airplane. Much of the country's income comes through tourism, and Angkor Wat is the nation's primary international draw. Cambodia is easily the poorest country that I have ever visited; it makes Thailand look like a lavish land of hedonistic opulence (which, I guess actually is true of some parts in Bangkok).

Before this gets excessively long, I'll switch directions again. Ask me about the adventures of getting to & from Siem Reap, the city that hosts Angkor Wat—and if you ever decide to go, never believe the bus drivers: they're filthy liars. But do stay at the Potted Palm Garden Lodge: cheap rooms, excellent, honest, friendly & helpful staff—they redeemed Cambodia for me, and that's saying something when you bear in mind the bus drivers.


Things that you could pray about, if you're that type of person:

+Soda, one of my students of yesteryear, has left to go & live in Kentucky for a year as part of a language exchange program. Her sponsor family is putting her in Grade 12 when she gets there because—I can only assume—they want her to experience the life of an American Senior (that's a G 12 student for us non-Yankees). She barely passed 10th grade over here, receiving outside help from tutors who spoke her native language, so academically, this is going to be a difficult year for her (if she even tries). She'll get by quite well in the communication department, but her thirst for popularity might get her into trouble. Pray that she makes wise choices in the next year & pray that, as she moves from a Buddhist country to a nation that is considerably more Christian, she would see & experience the Truth and love that comes only from Christ.

+Pray for Aaron, the new math teacher, as he jumps in head-first into the world of GES without really any idea as to what he's doing. Pray for me, as I undertake the organisation, restructuring & operation of all resources at GES as well as taking over teaching the High School Computers classes [apparently, there was a hole that needed to be filled ;)].

+Pray for the students at GES. A few of them have opened up to me in the past couple of weeks, letting me in on some very personal information about things that have happened and, in some cases, still happen, in their lives. Pray that they would come to taste & see that the Lord is good; that He is the almighty Healer and that He is the true source of love.

Thanks for reading my letters & updates, and thank you for your prayers.

Daniel.