I Hate My Voice

Here’s the thing: I hate my voice.

Sometimes at Christmas, we watch old home videos. There’s this one where I am six or seven years old, and I’m showing my sister Katie, who’s three or four, how to play piano. She’s just having a grand old time banging away on the keys, loving the drama and the noise. I smile sweetly and say, “No, no, Katie. That’s not the way. You put your fingers like this. Here is middle C.”

and this is how you hold a baby

 

The first time I saw this video as an adult, I cringed. And with good reason. Why was I trying to teach a three year old to play piano? Why was I such a stereotypical firstborn? Why was I such a damn goody-two-shoes? Why couldn’t I just dance to the chaos?

Recently I’ve started reading through my ten-year old journals. It was my first year out of college, and I was living in Southeast Asia, writing sometimes for myself and sometimes for my blog. Much of my writing has the same tone I had as a seven year old piano teacher: it’s sweetly didactic, and very sure of itself. I can’t stand it. 

 

From the distance of a decade, my naivete shines. The truisms I trumpeted (sweetly, (falsley) humbly) lacked depth or substance. They were sincere, yes, and usually true; but they were also awfully churchy and idealistic.Now, they just sound hokey, and ridiculous coming from someone my age, writing about things I really knew nothing about, railing against the materialism of the western church, coming up with bad metaphors about fireworks and stars and young nations and old nations.

 

Me, as writer and director of "A Cambodian Christmas Carol" at age 23

 

I don’t write much now, and in part that’s because I’m afraid of that voice coming out. I’m a teacher, after all; I often sound teacherly. Even if I tell stories, I can't get away from the lesson in them.

 

But who am I to speak? Who am I to say what’s right or wrong, with my youth and inexperience? Even if I’m right about what I say, isn’t it already obvious to everyone?

Won’t I be embarrassed, a decade from now, of anything I say with sincerity today?

“Not many of you should become teachers,” James warned. He was talking about Bible teachers. Sometimes I wish he had written that not many of us should be bloggers, or tweeters, or preachers with national platforms. (I really think not many of us should be teachers with national platforms.)

But sometimes I can’t tell if my silence is born more of humility (I don't want to be wrong, who am I to speak?), prudent caution (I don’t want to be wrong), perfectionism (I don’t want to be wrong), or fear (I don’t want to be wrong). Sometimes I want to add my voice to the cacophony, and sometimes I want to stay safe. Sometimes I think that of the making of many books (and blog posts), there is no end, so I’m just going to quietly fear God in my own little place.

 

When your heart burns within you, is that a time to speak, or a time to stay silent?

A question for you: How do you know when to speak, and when to stay silent?

five things I missed

With two weeks of school left, I'm astounded at how the semester has slipped away. Because I've been writing every week for Christ and Pop Culture, I've been neglecting this little space, but at least five notable things have happened that I haven't recorded.
1. We were confirmed as members of Gethsemane Episcopal Church.

2. I bought six chicks (more on that later).

3. Owen turned two. What I love about this boy is his sense of humor, his side-eye glance, his very cuddly nature, and the way he says seriously, "Oh, gotcha," after I answer his questions, or "cookie, yum, good, fun! Sis? Have cookie too?"

Owen's a little bit obsessed with sports balls.

My parents swung by for the birthday party. And an old friend from our ELIC days came by, too.

4. Taylor celebrated Korean Week.

5. One of my students presented original research (conducted for my class last fall) at an undergraduate research conference at Purdue. I accompanied her and a friend. We were all glad to get out of Upland for a night -- and I was very proud of Gowoon's bravery and hard work.

second languages

Today I have an essay at The Curator about how teaching English as a Second Language changed the way I speak the language of faith.  I hope you'll read it; it means a lot to me.

In the essay, I mostly talk about how my understanding of language and ownership changed while I was overseas.  Living overseas was the catalyst in pushing me toward ecumenicism, the understanding that each expression of faith weaves some unique color, some essential pattern,  in the tapestry of Christianity.  

Because of ecumenicism, I am forced to confess that my faith language is always under construction. I can never assume that I have the final say on what things mean.  

Take the word prayer, for example. Growing up, prayer was ACTS: Adoration, Confession, Thanksgiving, and Supplication.  It was individual, personal, disembodied, methodical and conversational.  It was good. 

But I also needed to learn about prayer from the Catholic church, where prayer was something communal and liturgical and sensual.  I needed to learn about prayer from the desert fathers and mothers, where it was constant, a way of life, and bound up with mundane tasks like weaving and gardening.  I needed charismatics to share their new languages with me, to help me become open to emotion and to the power of the Holy Spirit in my life. I needed to learn about meditation from Buddhists, and to learn from Muslims how posture and practice affect prayer.

And so my faith language shrinks and grows, by turns.  But read the essay, and let me know what you think.  

Have a jolly Thanksgiving!

ESL graduation

Last night we celebrated the end of the year with our full-time ESL students.some of them will return as full-time Taylor students next fall, and others are headed back to Korea. We will miss them.

class party

Last night we had our students and some of their friends over for a party to celebrate the end of the semester and to watch the short films that the students created in my class this year. The semester went by quickly!

Also, I bought some meijer brand peppermint oreos for the party, but we have a whole carton left over, and I can't stop eating them.

34 of 52

I started this book because Nancy Pearl recommended it, and it sounded like the sort of thing I would love: the early memoirs of a woman who spent most of her life as a book editor in London. I finished it only because it was the only book I had in the house, and because of 52in52. While I enjoyed some of the writing, particularly Athill's descriptions of her childhood home and the influence that that place had on her - the kind of nostalgia one has for a place that profoundly shaped one's childhood - overall, I found her secular humanist worldview to be too depressing.

I really miss the SPL. How am I going to finish the 52 in 52 challenge without it?

In other news: I'm eight weeks and two days pregnant, feeling nauseous every day, and needing naps. Oh yeah, and I'm showing. Showing! Already! Life is not fair. I have not called a doctor yet. According to our insurance there are no midwives covered by our network within a fifty mile radius of Upland. However, there is a hospital with two birthing tubs.

And in still other news: I am almost officially adjunct faculty at Taylor for the fall. Soon as a few more papers get signed, I'll be ready to teach ESL one afternoon a week. Jack will come home to watch Rosie while I'm teaching. Hurrah!

Halloween Party

well...in a manner of speaking.

My Japanese student just passed me in the hall. "Oooh," he said in dismay, "Your stomach is going to explode."

this year's esl class

rainbow, picnic

shh... don't tell the grammar teacher

An excerpt from a writing assignment that was turned in today. This was by R.

My bad place is Room 222, because smell like a dead flower.
I just do my grammar, talk grammar, got listen, fix grammar, write grammar, and sometimes my feel is sad, sometimes dead, dead in my really? That way is more serious. if you what a good job, you dead flower will e good flower smell also call happy face.

------------------

A good white v-neck t-shirt is still my favorite item of clothing.

thoughts

R. is my oldest student. 17, Taiwanese, and autistic, he is actually a joy to have in class. He is obsessive about a few things: the scary Saw movies, his friend Ginny in Taiwan, and making sure everyone follows all the rules all the time. He thinks in formulas, and prefers to write sentences like "R. + Ginny = best friends." He wants to be a novel writer when he grows up, and every day for inspiration he checks two sources: the weather forecast and the real estate listings. Pretty creative.

This week we are doing a unit on high school sports in America. In Asia, highschool sports are uncommon. They might have PE class, but as one Chinese housemate told me last night, "Sports were not allowed because we had to study, study, study all day." The amount of time and money we spend on highschool sports is a little bit incomprehensible to them.

Yesterday in class we watched the movie "Gracie," about a girl who tries out for the boys' soccer team in New Jersey in the 1970s. Did you know that girls who play soccer in highschool are the cutest girls in the world? They are. They just are.

summer school

(I just got tentatively hired on for the summer ESL term at Solomon - July 14- August 29. Among my students will be the top ten academically ranked blind students from South Korea. Whoa!)

lesson planning

I realized, recently, why I like lesson planning. For one thing, it's a solitary activity, and I like being alone for large chunks of time. It's also a self-directed activity; I can apportion my time in whatever way seems best to me.

But more than that, it's a lot like research. You take a subject, and you figure out how best to approach it - how to take it apart and put it back together in a way that makes sense - so that kids can learn it. You use a bunch of different sources and pull out bits and pieces to make a better, comprehensive whole.

It's like a puzzle. It's like doing the research for your senior thesis, everyday. And that's the part I always loved the most anyway.

play acting

Yesterday, not a single student knew the words "judge," "leader," or "President".
This made it difficult to begin the book of Judges in ESL Bible class.

They could really use some bilingual instruction, but instead, they've got me, a drama coach.

So today I brought cardboard-and-duct-tape swords to class, along with milk, a tent, a tent peg, a hammer, a blanket, and pictures of palm trees and soldiers. Let the games begin!

Narrator: After Joshua died, God used people called judges to rule the people. They guided the
people in times of peace and times of war. They helped make sure the people did the right
thing and followed God.

One of the first judges was a woman named Deborah. She would sit near a palm tree and hold court, helping people with their problems. She was wise and faithful.

Deborah:I always sit under this tree and help people with their problems. Let me help you.

God: Hey, Deborah. Please give this message to the soldier Barak. Tell him to take some soldiers to the mountain. He will meet an evil man named Sisera and his army there, but I will help him win the battle.

Deborah: Ok, God. I will tell him. But I don’t think he will be happy about it!
Barak, come here please!

Barak: Hey Deborah. What’s up?

Deborah: God told me to tell you something. He wants you to take the army to the mountain and fight Sisera.

Barak: Oh no! I am too scared. I don’t want to go there. Will you come with me?

Deborah: Why don’t you believe God? I will go with you, but because you are so scared, God will not let you get the honor for killing Sisera.

Barak:Ok, whatever. Let’s go.

Narrator: So the army of Israel went to the mountain and fought Sisera’s army. With God’s help, Israel won. Sisera left his army and ran away. He ran by the tent that belonged to Jael.

Jael: Hello. You look very tired. Would you like to come into my tent?

Sisera: Oh, yes. I am so thirsty. Can I have a drink?

Jael: Sure. Here is some milk. Why don’t you lay down and rest? I will cover you with this blanket.

Sisera: Oh, thank you…(snores)

Narrator: When he was asleep, Jael picked up a tent peg and hammered it into his head. He died. Barak came by, looking for Sisera.

Barak: Excuse me, miss. Have you seen a man come running by here?

Jael: You mean Sisera? Yes, I saw him. Come into my tent. There he is!

Narrator: God took care of His people and helped them win the battle. He took care of all their
needs.. Barak needed to trust God’s plan. Deborah trusted God completely—not doubting Him even for a moment. Deborah sang a song to God to thank Him for helping them and watching over them. God heard their words of thanksgiving and they had peace for 40 years.

the new kid

I got a new student today, fresh off the boat from China yesterday.

This brings my class total to five. Including myself.

Only one day of class left!

Tomorrow is our final full day of Summer Camp. On Friday we'll have closing ceremonies, and we fly home on Monday morning. Whew! It's been a really fast month, and a really busy month. I think we're both tired and ready to be home (we haven't slept in our own bed since May 31, and we miss it.

The bad news I got today is that I won't be able to meet up with my former student after all. I had hoped to have a chance to see her this weekend, but it's not going to happen....details to follow.

The good news is that we've had a lot of fun with our students in the last week! Last weekend my class took Jack and me to the Museum of Ethnology, where we learned about the recent history of Hanoi as well as the cultures of various ethnic minorities in Vietnam. Here are some pics...

My class before our fashion show:


Outside the Museum of Ethnology:

This was the 1/2 floor of a 1 1/2 story bun bo restaurant. The noodles were delicious.



Last night was our "Thanksgiving Culture Night". One of our many special guests was Honest Abe, announcing the official holiday back in 1863.


We also had about 40 "Native Americans" and 40 "Pilgrims" running around.



And finally, the Mayflower itself...

please slow down

Our typical weekday schedule:

up at 5:30
breakfast at 6:15
walk a half mile to school at 7:00
teach from 7:30-10:30 or 11:00
walk to hotel for lunch at 11:30
lesson plan
walk to school to lead "games and activities" from 2:30-4:00
walk to hotel, lesson plan together and dinner at 5:30
team time from 6:30-7:00
walk to school for "culture night" activities from 7:30-9:00
sleep at 10:00

And this week we also taught Saturday morning, to make up for a short week that started on a Wednesday. We're tired. Teaching in the mornings is fairly low-prep, and there aren't any papers to grade (YES!). But we spend a good bit of time planning our culture nights - skits, games, and songs teaching 200 kids about "American Romance" and "American Holidays" and other fun subjects...

Our students are 11-16, and they like studying. In fact, they prefer studying to games. They didn't like ultimate frisbee as much as they might have, mainly because of the heat. The heat. I don't know why we even try to play in it. I sweat through my clothes - completely through my clothes - just standing in the classroom under the fan. The air just condenses on my skin the moment I step out the hotel door.

Our students also LOVE "HIghschool Musical." They get the Disney channel here, and they watch the same shows my brother David has watched - The Suite Life of Zach and Cody, Hannah Montana. etc. They like to drink bubble tea too, a habit our team of teachers is happily adopting.

Our team is doing great. They like the food, and they love the sugarcane juice! A couple were really down after the first day of teaching -- they felt pushed beyond their levels of competency and outside their natural giftings. But they're improving and gaining confidence every day. Several went shopping with groups of students yesterday afternoon, and had a great time seeing new parts of the city.

We've been in Hanoi for more than a week. We just have three weeks left with our students, and so many relationships we want to develop.

Hopefully our energy will last!

every morning i can't believe i'm really in vietnam

Day One:
We arrived at the Hanoi airport around 10 am after about twenty hours of travel. Nervously gripping our passports, we survived customs to be greeted by about twenty of our students and the headmistress of the school. They welcomed us with flowers and took us to eat pho bo (a Hanoi specialty - beef noodle soup with lime and chile) at a restaurant near our school. We toured the school and got settled into our hotel.

Day Two:
The same group of students met us at our hotel at 7 am, where a bus picked us up for the tour of Hanoi. First we braved the crowds and the heat at the Ho Chi MInh mausoleum. In two single file lines, we walked around a well-manicured museum campus until it was our turn to enter the building and silently pass by the preserved body of Bac Ho (Uncle Ho). According to the students, most Hanoians will visit Bac Ho once a year. They don't want him to get lonely. This is also a first stop when people from the countryside visit Hanoi.

On the the Van Mieu (Temple of Literature), the first university in Vietnam. This place was built a thousand years ago! Now it mainly serves as a memorial to Confucius and the great teachers of Vietnam. Finally, we visited the oldest pagoda in Vietnam and ate lunch at a lakeside restaurant (the first of many, many seafood feasts our weekend would hold).

Day Three:
As a way to thank us for coming to teach this month, our school arranged for us to take an overnight trip to one of the most beautiful spots in Vietnam -Ha Long Bay. The bus arrived to pick us up at 5 am. After about three hours on the road (and stopping at those cute little tourist bus stops where you know your tour guide gets a cut of the profit for bringing you there) we stepped onto a luxurious boat for our trip through the bay. This is our team on the boat. Back row - Chris, Adam, and Susan. Front Row - Marie, Mike, Dani, Nikki, and Jenny. They are such a diverse and interesting crew!There are 1969 little mountains like these in Ha Long Bay, supposedly caused by a vocano how ever many gazillions of years ago. The bay leads to the China-Vietnam border. Some people groups live on houseboats in the water.

We made a couple of stops during our boating expedition - first to an underground grotto carved out by water and adorned with stalagmites and stalactites. Climbing down into and through the grotto led to a mountain path with beautiful views.And we swam.

We spent the night at Cat Ba island, where our vegetarians had to deal with liver and intestines (or tofu imitations of?) in their vegetable dishes.

Day Four:
This time, we road a "speed boat" (that made most of us nearly sick) to the bus that took us back to Hanoi. And today, our fifth full day in Hanoi, we are lesson planning like mad. Classes begin tomorrow.

ps- sorry about how the pictures and text aligned on this post - i'll try to make it prettier next time.