school of life

The objective for Egypt was simple-go, teach, travel, experience, enjoy but most importantly RELAX. Take a break, a breather, a vacation, a step away from the life I have back home. Not that it was a bad one, just filled with work, schedules, obligations, and responsibilities that eventually left me tired and resentful of everyone around me. So when I concluded I would go, I decided…. the objective for Egypt would be simple-go, teach, travel, experience, enjoy, but most importantly RELAX.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Since the day I arrived and practically the moment I stepped off the plane I have been eating, breathing, and sleeping work. The difference now, is it hasn’t left me resentful (tired yes) but for the first time I’m building something of my convictions. When I found out my list of responsibilities it left me scared, eager, stressed, elated, all at once. To fully understand and comprehend that list, I think it’s important to understand every aspect of my situation. So let’s begin from day 1.

After being retrieved from the airport the first stop we made was to the school. The street leading up to the school is an unpaved bumpy dirt road. The building itself is a 3 story old white mansion with black iron gates surrounding. You walk inside to an expansive great room with two sets of double doors one leading to a garden and another to the pool. A couple of rooms, an office, and a kitchen make up the first floor. Up the stairs are 4 bedrooms (converted into classrooms) all with access to separate terraces (most with views of the Nile, Banana Island, and a lone water buffalo that hangs out in the marsh behind the building and disrupts my class with his mooings).  The top floor is strictly a roof top with no awning or shelter to provide relief from the sun. I have decided this will be where I will begin my student gardens. There is a back outdoor area that has a small swimming pool, which the children are allowed to utilize at the end of most school days. To these children and myself it is the most precious amenity the school offers. For the children a chance to be in a swimming pool is a rarity, and for me, it is how I coerce them into semi-good behavior. I’ve only followed through in eliminating swim time once, which resulted in tears, but the following day the perpetrator never repeating the offence.

The first week I was in Luxor school hadn’t officially started, but my work load was about 2 weeks behind. When I showed up to the building it was completely empty with the exception of a couple oversized dining room tables, and a couple antique mismatched sofas. None of the school furniture had arrived due to Ramadan. The containers were being held in Alexandria, and no one had an exact date when they were supposed to arrive. This was Saturday, school was due to start the following Sunday (Egyptian school week is Sunday through Thursday), and the governor of Luxor along with the President of the school board, investors, and many affluent people in the community were expected to arrive the next Saturday for a viewing.  The furniture eventually arrived Friday evening and the night was spent assembling 35 white bookshelves, 18 desks, 18 chairs, 1 long art table, filling all the shelves with appropriate materials and books, and hanging posters and pictures on the wall. Basically doing a week’s worth of construction, organizing, and cleaning in one night.

   The next night was the big celebration for the schools opening. IDS or the Internationale Duetsch Schule is a chain of German schools in Egypt, with the one in Luxor being the ninth. The party was one of the grandest I’ve ever been a part of. There were speeches from the Governor, the owner (a hotel mogul), the head of the school board for IDS, and our principal Klaus. Since all speeches were given in English, Klaus asked me two days before the party to write his speech, a speech that was to be given in front of 100 plus people, news reporters, and the Governor.  The party was on the terrace of a fancy hotel, with fancy food, lots of booze, a performance from the children, and a stunning view of the mountains and the Nile in the background. I shook hands with some prominent Egyptians’,  politely smiled when I was introduced, schmoozed a lot, talked to newspaper reporters, tried to stay sober,  got in a boat, crossed the Nile and went home to bed.

   Aside from writing the speech for Klaus, and setting up furniture for an entire school, I still had to set up my classroom and a lesson plan. For whatever reason I was under the impression I would be working in the Kindergarten classroom. Of course not, because that would have made things too easy.  Things had changed around in the schedule, and I was now teaching English, Science, and Art in the Primary school. The Primary is split into 2 groups P1 (the younger children ages 5-8) and P2 (ages 9-12). I realized after the containers arrived from Alexandria that there were no materials provided for me, no books, no worksheets, not even art supplies. In three days I was expected to begin teaching 3 subjects, important subjects, with nothing to work with. I hadn’t a lesson plan, a schedule, or the faintest idea where to begin.  Panic flowed threw me, as I stood in my empty classroom on the verge of tears.  I went home that night, emailed my mother for advice, poured all my books that I had brought from home on the floor along with a pad of paper and a pen and wrote out a detail plan of action.

 I would start with sandpaper letters. This would help my P1 children (most of whom don’t speak English) learn the alphabet and letter sounds. Sandpaper letters are every letter in the alphabet cut out of sandpaper and glued to a thin flat sheet of wood, pink for consonants and blue for vowels. The child runs their finger along the letter saying the sound out loud. Then they match a picture or object to the appropriate letter.  In the states to order these from a Montessori supply company would cost at least 300 dollars and take a standard week or more for shipping. Since I didn’t have the time or money for that I decided to go to the hardware store and make them myself. I have traveled a fair amount, and have been to a few pretty foreign places, with the intent on going to many more, but let me be very clear when I say NOTHING will be more foreign than an Egyptian hardware store. This wasn’t like going to ACE hardware or Lowes where some friendly sales assistant in an orange vest named Bill comes up to you and just happens to be the expert in making sandpaper letters. This is a dark dusty garage, dominated by men shouting in Arabic while smoking hand rolled cigarettes. I walk in and head down a narrow cement hallway with floor to ceiling shelves filled with opened boxes of nails and screws of all sizes. Rolled up chicken wire is leaning against the wall on one side of the hall while pieces of plywood along the other. I slowly walk down that hall trying to avoid stepping or scraping my feet against anything for fear of Tetanus.  At the end of the hall are three rooms, with the same amount of un-organized chaos. Floor to ceiling (approximately 20 foot ceilings) of dusty boxes all opened and picked through, various tools laying about, rusty dusty paint cans, ornate door handles and knobs on one shelf, and ( my ah hah moment) sand paper. Seeing how not only am I the only female in this place (probably  the only female to ever step foot in this place) but also clearly a foreigner, I come to the conclusion that I’m going to majorly get fucked on prices. So I stand up tall, assertive, look the man behind the counter in the face and ask in my best Arablish “how much?” “Eight pounds per meter,” he replies. That seems fair I think to myself. I cut two meters off and set out looking for wood. A young man named Ahmed, came over to help me. His English was about as good as my Arabic. We began to play a really pathetic game of Charades. I was trying to tell him I needed wood, really thin wood. I kept saying “wood” “WOOD” you know “WOOOOOOOD.” He would look at me confused, and then a light bulb went off in his head. “Ohh ok ok follow me.” I followed him through another Tetanus filled hallway, into another room, he knelt down picked something up off a low shelf and handed me more sandpaper.

 “No, No WOOOOOOOOOOD.”

   Finally he got the picture, and showed me their “not so impressive” collection of mismatch lumber. I told him I need thin sheets, but cut into small rectangular pieces. After explaining this for about an hour he said “wait here.” Left me and returned with a saw and said follow me. He led me out the shop and down the back ally. I followed close behind looking around as we became deeper and deeper intertwined in the barrios. Garbage and dirty stray cats filled the street. I could hear babies crying in the distance and could feel Egyptian men eyes on me as they were silently wondering what I was doing in this part of town. As I walked I kept staring at the saw in Ahmed’s hands thinking this is the beginning of a Tarantino movie. Finally we stop in front of a storage unit; Ahmed unlocks it and opens up to show me a bigger cluster of mismatched wood. I step in, and examine all that is offered. After thumbing through the wood for nearly 30 minutes, I find what I need and explain that I want 26 pieces cut into 7 by 5 ½ pieces. “Ok,” he says picks up the wood and begins walking down the alley. I follow him, a little unsure, and he leads me to a wooden door and through that door is another narrow ally that opens up to a small outdoor garage area where I meet Neghi.

 Neghi, is a carpenter who quickly became my friend, because he has made painting easels for my art class, my movable alphabet, boxes, and cut the wood for my sandpaper letters, all done cheaply and beautifully. (Note to self, get a carpenter friend when you get back to the states, they come in handy). Every day, I come back to Neghi’s shop with a detailed picture of something else I need. We make small talk, while he works on my projects, and I smile politely when other men come into the shop to use his table saws. I told him I was a teacher, and all these things are for my class. He offers me cigarettes and asks the three basic questions all Egyptians ask when they first meet me.

“Where are you from?”

“California.”

 “Where do you live?”

”West bank?”

 “Are you married?”

 “No.”

Then with a serious look on his face he says, “You don’t marry Egyptian man, they will take your money and LEAVE YOU!” Thanks Neghi duly noted.

Along with the wonderful work Neghi has done for me, most of the time until now has been spent downloading  at least 200 pictures from the internet for matching games, making posers pertaining to subjects at hand, writing up worksheets, printing papers, laminating papers, cutting papers, organizing papers, writing a calendar of events, scanning pages out of books to use for references, writing daily lessons on the handmade calendar, translating weekly vocabulary words in English, translating the IDS website into correct English, writing every students name on their school supply box, folders, paper trays and organizers, running around Luxor trying to find various art supplies, trays to hold art supplies, different materials to use in science experiments, then racing back in time to attend staff meetings held entirely in German, and at the end of it all I’m told I have to teach in British English, not American English.

      So finally school has begun, and I am reminded that anywhere you go in the world children are children, loquacious and full of smiles with all their idiosyncrasies.  Little boys pretend everything (pencils, sticks, rulers ect.) are guns and tease little girls and little girls want to hold your hand, play with your hair, and comment on how pretty your nail color is. The children were excited when they found out I was from America, because America to them is Hollywood. I spent most class time the first day explaining that the Golden Gate Bridge isn’t made of Gold It’s actually red, and cowboys and Indians don’t fight in real life. The kids are rowdy and loud, but bright and interested. I’m lucky because the subjects I teach allow room for creativity and fun, and my boss gives me a lot of freedom. So I let them get messy in Science, work on the floor in English, and I play Bob Dylan while they work on art projects. At the end of this first week I was exhausted, drained, and had become hoarse. I spent all weekend lying around the pool sleeping and relaxing mentally preparing myself for the following week.

    I never wanted to be a teacher, in fact I majored in everything but education, but at the end of the road I think this is exactly what suits me. I’m extremely happy around children, and nothing makes me feel better when I know they are enjoying themselves and learning too. Every child deserves the opportunity to go to school, to be educated, and to demonstrate their capabilities. I want my students to have the education I had. Live and think outside a narrow margin, explore options and realize what opportunities lie within this big world.