Ankle Update

Ankle is healing rapidly, am able to put weight on it and walk around without crutches! There's still some swelling, and the bruising is amazing, but otherwise it's feeling pretty good. I have a brace to wear which doesn't fit into any of the shoes I brought with me, so i've been rocking the flip flops to school everyday. We had our staff Christmas party last night and a farewell fiesta for a Canadian friend who's leaving us for Burundi (sp?) and the DRC. We eventually landed at Press Cafe, a Haitian dance lounge. My ankle withstood the rigours of a night of Kompa dancing and is ready to roll again tonight. My stomach and head on the other hand are begging for the night off...we'll see what happens!

Good Morning Cankles...

 

It was bound to happen.

Every week I take to the Ultimate field with players who sport some sort of bionic body part: a knee, an ankle, a shoulder...and I feel smug that I have all my original parts, intact.

Yesterday, during the opening play of the game, I lost that smugness to a sprained ankle.

I'm not injured often, and in the past (when I was young and foolish) I would most often play through, hating being benched more than anything. That was not an option, in this case.

The most shocking thing about the whole experience was the noise my ankle made as I landed on it. The combination of hearing and feeling it happen was enough to make me want to throw-up, as the other players crowded around me to administer First Aid. As grateful as I am to everyone for their care and compassion, I found out first-hand why crowd control is so important at the scene of an incident. It was not only embarrassing but also totally overwhelming to have that many people in my face, as I was writhing and flailing around in pain. Eventually I was carried off the field and given ice, medical advice, and soft caramels. There was talk of physio and rehab, and that I was not to, under any circumstances, allow a doctor in Port-au-Prince to cast it.

The layman's prognosis: 2 months of R(est)&R(ehabilitation) till it's back up to working condition. I've got roughly half of that till I'm due to be snowboarding in Whistler. It was only once that realization set in that I started to cry. I'm choosing to think of that as worst case scenario. The power of positive thinking and all that...

So here I am this morning, icing, elevating, and creating my semester exams. I've stockpiled everything  I need (starting with breakfast) so I don't have to hop back and forth a hundred times.

 

Wish me luck in both my recovery and work!

My First Haitian-American Thanksgiving!

Because my camera has crapped out on me, I don't have any of my own Thanksgiving photos to accompany this blog. You will find a few on Ashley's blog though so I borrowed them. To check out her blog click here!

As my title suggests, last week marked my first American Thanksgiving, in Haiti. One of the teachers in our apartment complex organized the entire meal. We split the grocery list and signed up to purchase specific items (all with the help of a google doc.). When I noticed mini-marshmellows on the list I was both excited and somewhat leary of what they might be for. I had spent the week listening to students describe their favourite Thanksgiving dishes and there were some strange ones. Turns out the marshmellows acted as the topping for the sweet potatoes! A totally weird combination, but delish nonetheless.

We had a half-day on Wednesday, which marked the beginning of our long weekend. We got home and immediately Carrie got to work on the turkey. Unlike at home, where my mom is adamant that we all participate in the cooking of the meal, Carrie is the sole master of her kitchen. We were banished (or maybe we just unanimously decided to desert the field) until the final touches were being made to the table.

We ate outside, in the large upstairs alcove that connects my apartment to Carrie's. The spread was outstanding with something for everyone, including the gluten-free and vegetarian. Some of the gastroniomical highlights were the brussell sprouts (my fav!), mashed potatoes, creamed corn, sweet potatoes topped with marshmellows, turkey, cranberry, green beans, and stuffing. It was really fun to share a meal as a big group, and we did our best to include enough dysfunction to make it feel homey. One of the best things about the whole meal? No dishes. Our lovely housekeepers took care of them all!

Turns out that the tryptophan (you that stuff in turkey that makes you sleepy?!) works double-time in tropical climates. None of us could keep our eyes open for long after gorging ourselves, so it ended up being an ETB (early to bed) night, which suited us just fine since we were all headed off on long-weekend adventures the next day. Of course, I made the mistake of starting a book before bed. Divergent by Veronica Roth kept me up until 2am, when I had to call it quits or end up concussed from dropping my Kobo on my face one too many times. I'm on a dystopian teen-fiction kick and loving it!

Kreyol Lessons

Tonight will mark my third Kreyol lesson in two weeks. We've arranged for one of our local friends to teach us, in exchange for English conversation. As far as I can tell, we're getting the better end of that deal. We met Joseph at Giant, our favourite supermarket. He was a friendly, and constant face, and gradually we began to chat more at each of our trips to the grocery store. Joseph had asked one of the other teachers in our complex about English tutoring, in exchange for Kreyol lessons. While that avenue fell through, the rest of us were happy to offer our services. Now we meet twice a week (on Tuesdays and Sundays), at this great restaurant called La Reserve. The atmosphere is fantastic -like sitting on a patio in the middle of the jungle. It's dark and quiet, unless they're playing jazz-lounge remixes of 80s and 90s pop songs.

We're working out of a book that teaches the basics of Kreyol in 16 lessons. It's great having a native speaker to reinforce pronunciation and word order. There are some definite advantages to knowing French, however, the spelling of Kreyol is so phonetic that at times the French root word is unrecognizable. Pronunciation also differs greatly from French. It's exciting to learn another language though and the reaction I get to even attempting to speak Kreyol is well worth the effort.

My favourite word = bagay (stuff), pronounced BAH-GUY.

Media Literacy Unit & Mindset

I have recently launched a new unit in my Grade 7 & 8 writing classes on Media Literacy. I'm using an e-book that was purchased and given to me by another English teacher. In it are comprehensive lesson plans that break down different types of media and teach students to deconstruct the messages they are bombarded with on a daily basis. It's exactly the kind of vehicle I need to deliver my lesson on Jerry. If you've read my old posts, you'll know that Jerry is a famous graffiti artist here in Petionville, and that his work is displayed on the walls we drive by every day. It's gratifying to see how excited my students get about making connections between the images they see from behind their tinted, reinforced windows and the lessons they're learning in class.

While it's very helpful to have pre-made lessons to use, I continue to struggle with them. There's always something that doesn't quite suit my needs, could be worded differently, or just scratches the surface when I want to delve deep. There's no doubt that I'm a perfectionist, and anal about the formatting of my handouts, but there has to be some happy medium to be found. I often supplement these lessons with images or videos, but there is so much information out there that I get easily overwhelmed. As I teacher, I feel that it is my job to know what is a good versus mediocre resource and yet, I could spend days combing the Internet, looking for that "just-right" thing I'm missing. It's discouraging. At times like that, I have to remind myself that I have plenty of years ahead of me to change, improve, and perfect the lessons that I will teach.

I am definitely struggling with my mindset, and often think of the book Mindset, written by Carol Dweck. I like being good at things right off the bat, and have very little patience for myself when I flounder. Being a teacher is a study in organization, group-management, self-discipline, and compassion, and the learning curve is steep!

Marine Ball

Last Saturday (Nov. 10) I was invited to the Marine Ball, in celebration of their 237th birthday. To say this was an event, is an understatement! While I was incredibly excited to attend, I had neither dress nor shoes, appropriate for a black tie affair, nor did I have the foggiest clue of where I might purchase such items. Port-au-Prince is the antithesis of Rodeo Drive. From the streets, all one sees are the crumbling concrete walls and forbidding iron gates. Occasionally, if you know where to look, you might spot a colourfully-dressed mannequin, but window shopping here is like playing Where's Waldo or I Spy. Not an avid shopper to begin with, I quickly realized that my hastiness is accepting the invitation to a ball was ill-advised (I am always complaining that you can never be spontaneous in Haiti). What I needed was a fairy godmother!

She ended up manifesting in a multitude of forms: I got advice on where to shop from several of the local teachers, my apartment-mates were very gracious about letting me steal the car repeatedly, and my hair and make-up on the day of were courtesy of Ashley and Carrie.

The ball was being held at the historic Parc Canne a Sucre, a beautiful outdoor venue, near the U.S. Embassy. I was happy to have found a full-length dress when I arrived, as the women were decked out in some of the finest gowns I've ever seen. The men wore tuxedos and dress-blues. I was fascinated by the different adornments on the Marines's uniforms, and regret that I didn't get much of a chance to discover what they meant.

The U.S. embassador to Haiti was the guest of honour, and she read Hilary Clinton's statement from her recent visit to the country. It was interesting to hear about the role the Marine Corps plays in the security of U.S. personel and interests abroad. There was also a video presentation and the usual pomp and circumstance of the raising of the colours (some of this stuff should probably be capitalized). It made me think about Rob and his tours, the commaraderie that he has spoken of that comes with the dedication and unique circumstances of being a Marine.

There was cake, and dancing, and of the course the open bar, which proved to be my demise (and gives a whole new meaning to drinking the Kool-Aid). Despite the over-indulgence, the evening was a great success and a chance for me to get yet another glimpse of the glammour and glitz that the ex-pat lifestyle can entail.

My advice? If you ever get the opportunity to attend one of these events, don't turn it down!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Today is a great day to be reminded of all of the things I have to be thankful for...mostly because i'm experiencing a bit of a slump!

Here's the list thus far:
1. I have a great family who will Skype me despite preparing for this evening's festivities.
2. I have a challenging job, that I love (most of the time).
3. I am living a new and incredible part of the world.
4. I have a comfortable apartment, food in my fridge, and a really great friend just downstairs who doesn't mind giving me a pep talk every once in a while, when I need it.
5. I have a phone which allows me to connect to the rest of my friends, all over the world.
6. I'm educated, free, and healthy.
7. I can play ultimate frisbee twice a week.
8. I have access to running water and A/C when I need it.
9. I am earning enough to pay off student loans and still have a social life!
10. I live in a country where I can use my french, every day, and it comes in handy!

Now for the things that I miss:
1. My great family!
2. Shopping for Thanksgiving dinner at the IGA in Wilson Creek, listening to Mum lecture us about how we need to learn how to cook a turkey (for the 7th year in a row)
3. Getting dressed up for the occasion, even if it's just us at the table!
4. Watching Mum do the moon walk, after one too many glasses of wine.
5. The view from our back porch, looking out onto the Strait of Georgia
6. The fall colours and temperate weather
7. Camp and friends!

It's amazing to be here in Haiti, experiencing a new lifestyle, country, and career. I'm glad to have the privilege to be able to do so, and to meet new and interesting people. As I was telling a few people recently, the shininess is beginning to wear off and I'm finding myself staring at the weeks on the calendar until I get to come home to visit all the people and places that I love. I know this phase won't last and that it's a common stage in the expat experience, but I'm feeling the true brunt of it right now. With two long weekends coming up in November, I have many possibilities for travel to look forward to. In terms of my job, my routines can only become more familiar, more refined, and more efficient. Right?! I look forward to a time when I am a disciplined and seasoned professional...

Comments and Shout outs!

Last night my sister Hayley brought to my attention that she's been having a really hard time posting comments on my blog. She asked me to check my settings, to see if it was an issue on my end. Turns out it was, and I've rectified the situation. Anyone can comment, with or without a google+ account. Thank you Hayley, and everyone else who reads my blog, for taking an active interest in my adventures in Haiti. It's so comforting to know you care! Julie, I really appreciate all the feedback you've been giving me along the way. I so look forward to your facebook inbox messages, so keep them coming!

Reflecting...a hated buzz word.

While the word reflection elicits an eye-roll from most B.Ed candidates at Queen's (the word is bandied about so much) it is important. I'm not a big dweller and often would rather find the solution to a problem, than focus on the misery the problem presents. That being said, there are some definite patterns in behaviour that I've noticed over time. The one that is most relevant at the moment is my tendency to retreat when I feel overwhelmed. I become apathetic and intentionally isolate myself. My friend Sarah refers to this as my "disappearing act," and got pretty good at weathering it in our 4th year at Guelph. I've often wondered if I've adopted this behaviour to avoid poisoning anyone else with my awful mood or if it is simply how I prefer to wallow. I can only take so much before I get sick of myself and find the drive to take action. I've been thinking about it a lot recently because I have a need to write honestly about my experience, and yet want to refrain from being pessimistic or whiney.

This week has definitely been a prime example. For one, I owe my sister Olivia an email of epic proportions (Beowulf style). Second, I haven't been posting consistently, because everything I draft leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.  I'm obviously at the tail end of my wallow and am clawing my way out. Most people who know me can probably attest to the fact that I am incommunicado for long stretches of time -the reasons are two-fold: a) I'm literally the worst person at keeping in touch, b) I have a hard time talking about being bummed out, unless I feel wronged or am incensed at some injustice. I'm a work-in-progress and I hope that a little self-reflection, every once in a while, will help keep that progress consistent. I was once told by an employer, that I greatly admired, that I am very self-aware, but that I have a blind-spot that consistently gets me in to trouble. Maybe if I hold up a few mirrors at the right angles, I'll successfully make that spot smaller.

Time to get out of my head now!

Driving Ms. Lutes

Drove for the first time on Saturday.  The trip went well all-in-all. Ashley was my navigator and we made our way to and from Ultimate, relishing our independence. The roads are narrow and honking is a common way to indicate you're about to come barreling around a blind corner. We made it back to the apartments just before dark, sweaty and triumphant.  It's like discovering the freedom you feel at 16, all over again. Only here there are no rules to the road, you get to know the exact parameters of your vehicle very quickly, and parking? You just pop two wheels on the curb and you're good to go. Forget right of way too. You see your opening, you take it. Or, you end up on the wrong end of a tap-tap, overflowing with people, staring at the idiot "blanc," who clearly has no business being behind the wheel.

You can read a lot in a person's stare.  It's one of my favorite things about this country, the way people unabashedly observe each other. I don't know if it's each other, so much as it is me...Either way, I take it as an invitation to stare right back. It's fascinating what we miss, while pretending not to look. Mostly, I try to read people's faces as though they were maps, and the contours of their features are landmarks by which I hope to navigate cultural barriers. I'm still trying to figure out how far a simple smile will get me. While that sounds calculating, you'd be surprised at the variety of responses I've had to one. On a scale of 1 to Kissy Faces, there is lots of room for interpretation.

As I meet new people, I get asked the same, or some slight variation of the same, question: How do you like it so far? I'm never sure if "it" refers to Haiti, school, or teaching. Either way my response is the same. All 3 have their challenges but I love what i'm doing and where i'm doing it. It's hard to explain, how quickly we adjust. Ashley recently posted a blog about this very idea, after a conversation we had in the car on the way home from work. All of sudden the sights, smells, and sounds of our environment have become common-place. I'm no longer as affected by the rubble, garbage, and poverty on the streets, because I see that it's part of a way of life that works and makes sense here. The ditch pigs and street chickens (and goats) still amuse me, but I no longer search them out every morning on the drive to school, wondering if they were slaughtered for griot the night before. This shift, I hope, is indicative of an ascension to a more integrated existence here.

I am literally drowning in marking...and questions. Between 6 English/Writing courses and Progress Report deadlines, I have enough stacks of assessment pieces to build the next leaning tower. I have nightmares that all those stacks are going to come crashing down, like some vindictive paper tsunami, and annihilate all semblance of organization I have established in my mind. I'll never be able to distinguish which assignments belong in which pile and i'll have nothing to put on my students reports. How do teachers cope? I desperately need a system. Thoughts?

Here are just a few questions waging war on my over-stimulated brain.  Hopefully, if I can verbalize them, it'll turn on a lightbulb:

1. What is an effective system for keeping my course materials together, that does not involve a three-hole-punch?
2. How do I keep track of assessment pieces, log the results, and return them, without constantly lugging sheafs of paper around everywhere I go, thus running the very likely risk of misplacing one or two? Do all my marking at school. 
3. How do I keep track of work in progress, that I collect, at various stages? Wall-mounted folder holder thingys (Dean, i'm picturing yours with envy). Should I be collecting it or should I expect students to be able to keep track of it? What is my contingency plan if a student fails to bring their work to class and therefore cannot participate in the activity?
4. How do I effectively, and easily, keep track of participation marks?
5. What is an appropriate way to give credit for informal, daily freewriting? How do I get students to reflect on their writing in a meaningful (and interesting) way?

Piti Marche à Pied et Cascades

This weekend brought on a combination of much needed sleep, work, and (thank god) exercise. Twice a week, on Tuesdays and Saturdays, we have a date at Sun Auto, what seems to be an old car dealership, to play Ultimate on the bordering fields.

After lesson planning all day, Ultimate was a definite highlight. Few people showed up, so we played 5-on-5 and ran our asses off. By the time we drove home, it was dark and the city streets were full of music, people, and the scents of griot (grilled pork) and bananes frit (fried plantains).  Port-au-Prince takes on a whole new flavour after dark, and from the interior of the car, I am abundantly aware of the fact that I am unable to truly taste it. The remainder of Saturday night was uneventful, however, as we just got hooked up with cable, courtesy of the PTA, Ashley and I spent the evening watching Liar Liar. As I slept through the usual festivities on Friday night, the weekend itself was generally fairly tame. 

We broke tradition and ventured out on Sunday (today) to do a spot of hiking. Unless we're going to school, we generally drive down the "hill" toward the city. Today, we drove up the hill, toward Kenscoff, past a plethora of marchands, motos, and amazing vistas. We've become used to driving past our destinations, and today was no exception. The problem with Haitian roads is they are narrow and packed with people, dwellings, and rubble. As a result, I am continually impressed with David's (my roommate) calm behind the wheel. Not only was he the brains behind this mission but he's also the only one of us that can drive the car. It's a lot of responsibility to take on. We had to pull a dicey three-point turn, amidst the chaos on the street.  We're so lucky to have someone around who was here last year, knows the ropes, and wants to show them to us. Anyway, here are some photos from our hike!

A Lot Happens in a Week

It's been a full week since my last post, the longest amount of time between posts thus far. I apologize if anyone was dreadfully concerned, due to hurricane Isaac. Our internet provider, AccessHaiti, one of the largest internet providers in the area, only just come back online in the last 24 hours. The smart thing to have done would have been to write during the storm and post once the internet came back up (like Ashley did). What was I thinking?!

Today marks my first week as a teacher. It's pretty heady stuff. Ashley and I have been reflecting on the fact that Haiti teaches you lessons swiftly and with little remorse. Like ripping off a band-aid, the consequences of our ignorance (or inexperience, if you're feeling kind) strike us in one concentrated shot of "Ouch!". I kind of like it that way. Call me a glutton for punishment, but it's a cleaner and more succinct way of getting the point across. My experience at school has been much the same.

We were discussing the definition of culture shock, the other day, and wondering if we'd really sustained any, as of yet. I think the biggest adjustment has been in regards to the pace of change. The ball is slow to get rolling here, and never gathers much speed. Bucking the system is a sure-fire way to get what you want and doesn't seem to incur much wrath or resentment. Turns out it's a dog-eat-dog world, and I'm getting left behind for fear of creating waves.

I did say that I was looking forward to going back to the basics, finding out how lean I could live. I didn't think of how that might affect my classroom or teaching style. I've finally received shelves for my classroom library, although i'll need more. I don't have a white board. Or an extension cord for my projector. All of these things seem trivial until they are missing. My tool box is incomplete and i'm using a screwdriver, where I need a hammer. The silver lining here is that I am being forced to discover just how creative I can be. How do I mask what feels make-shift to me? My job as a teacher is to fill the gaps with meaningful, authentic, and enduring learning opportunities. Do I need a whiteboard to make that happen is the question. Right now it feels like I do, but I'm hoping that in a little while I will have filled my tool box with alternative, practical, effective solutions.

I'm starting to feel as though I'm creating a routine. 5:30 wake-up, breakfast and coffee at 6:15, out the door and at my desk by 6:50. Miraculous silence until 7:30 when I go down to the school yard to greet my grade 7s. Homeroom. Periods 1, 2, lunch, 3, 4. A solid hour and a half of work, again at my desk in blissful peace. Home, or Geant, our local grocery store -unless it's tuesday (my favourite day of the week), in which case ULTIMATE! Once home, my productivity takes a bit of a dive. Invariably there's a glass of wine involved and dinner, before I get back to lesson planning. Bed by 9:30 (if we're being realistic, it's more like 10:15). I'm starving for more physical activity but the logistics are hard to iron out. Eventually, the routine will expand and solidify but for right now, it's nice to have some sort of consistency to which to cling.

The comforting thought to which I also cling is that daily life in Haiti will never be this hard to figure out again.

First Day O' School Part 1

First of all, my sense of time is all messed-up. Why isn't it September? Why aren't the days interminable, and the air tinged with youthful disappointment that summer has failed to, yet again, last forever?

Oh that's right, because I'm in Haiti. At 19 degrees north of the Equator, we may as well be sitting on it, the heat and humidity are so intense. The days begin at 6am and end at roughly 7pm. There are no leaves to watch change colour and the air will never crisp up, as winter encroaches on balmy fall evenings. And yet, here we are, the first day of school, August 22, 2012. A definite record for me!

This morning, I was up before dawn. Because traffic in Port-au-Prince is atrocious, we tend to leave a good 30-45 minutes before we're scheduled to be anywhere, and since opening assembly started at 7:45 this morning, it made for a really early wake-up call. As I was hustling out the door, I couldn't remember if I had brushed my teeth or not...so I grabbed what I needed and took my (gong) show on the road. Fortunately, we arrived at school with plenty of time to spare -enough in fact, for me to (brush my teeth AND) learn how to tie my roommates' bow tie from a youtube video. Some might say i'm a woman of many obscure talents....I digress.

I had a few last minute things to take care of in my classroom, before heading downstairs to greet parents and students. As the number of people bussing cheeks became overwhelming, I hid behind the table full of croissants and made friends with the ladies who run the PTA. I was recruited, introduced, and thoroughly questioned. These women, as it turns out, are the true movers and shakers at the school, and I was in total awe.

At 7:45 we rounded up what I hoped were our students and proceeded to settle into our seats at assembly. What I expected to be a staid affair, quickly turned into quite the party.

Wednesday Warnings.

The predicted hurricane or the first day of school...I could not tell you which is more terrifying at the moment. Both shall pass, I just cross my fingers that it'll be with little damage and less scarring!

“It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door… You step into the Road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to.” The Fellowship of the Ring -J.R.R. Tolkien.

I woke up this morning to a spider bite on my swollen eyelid and I thought "Great, I get to look like Quasimodo, on the first day of school." As it turned out, it was a omen of worse things to come. Hunger, general crankiness, and the overwhelming sense of being behind on a job that has yet to even begin. The good news? My belly's now full, my eyelid has shrunk to it's usually proportions, and I can all but hear the Zzzzzzs, as I crawl into bed. 

"The world breaks us all. Afterward, some are stronger at the broken places." Farewell To Arms -Ernest Hemingway.

Tomorrow, my task is to decorate my classroom. This quote is going above the door, so that all those who exit my class, will take this promise and carry it with them for the three minutes they have until their next lesson begins." 

"Promise me you'll always remember: you're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think." Winne the Pooh, A.A. Milne.

Ugh...or as they say in Kreyol...oush!

First day of classes starts Wednesday. I haven't even been into my classroom, i've yet to see a class list, and here I am, postponing my early bedtime, posting blog entries about lesson plan ideas that I won't be implementing until, like, November...at least my few Kreyol words have an opportunity to be used, even if it is in exasperation.

Jerry: Tagger Extraordinare

I've recently been noticing the amount of graffiti on the walls of my Péguy-ville neighbourhood, in Port-au-Prince, Haiti. I've decided to use it as part of my grade 7 English course curriculum. One of the standards to which I must teach, is "students describe persuasive messages in non-print media [...]". Because students drive by these messages everyday on their way to school, I figure it'll be a relevant and tangible source of material for this goal. I will post the lesson plans that pertain to this particular project as soon as they are finalized -will also post a quick note about how it went over! 

Below is the work of graffiti artist Jerry Moise Rosembert on walls in Port au Prince. You can find his social-politically inspired work all around the capital. Jerry cuts a fine line with his images by portraying the suffering of Haitians without directly criticising anyone in power. He doesn't speak out against individual politicians, but many of his images imply criticism of the way the country is run. 'All those parties they never do anything for the country,' he says. 'If you want to help the country, help it with your heart, not by getting played by a system.' More...

For more information on Jerry and to see more of his work check out this blog entry! 

The Hundred Languages of Children

The child is made of one hundred.

The child has

a hundred languages

a hundred hands

a hundred thoughts

a hundred ways of thinking

of playing, of speaking.

A hundred. Always a hundred

ways of listening

of marveling, of loving

a hundred joys

for singing and understanding

a hundred worlds

to discover

a hundred worlds

to invent

a hundred worlds

to dream.

The child has

a hundred languages

(and a hundred hundred hundred more)

but they steal ninety-nine.

The school and the culture

separate the head from the body.

They tell the child:

to think without hands

to do without head

to listen and not to speak

to understand without joy

to love and to marvel

only at Easter and at Christmas.

They tell the child:

to discover the world already there

and of the hundred

they steal ninety-nine.

They tell the child:

that work and play

reality and fantasy

science and imagination

sky and earth

reason and dream

are things

that do not belong together.

And thus they tell the child

that the hundred is not there.

The child says:

No way. The hundred is there.

-Loris Malaguzzi, Founder of the Reggio Emilia Approach

Favorite Education Quotes

"Education is not the filling of a pail, but the lighting of a fire." 

-William Butler Yeats, Irish poet

"I have never let my schooling interfere with my education." 

-Mark Twain

"I'm not afraid of storms, for I'm learning to sail my ship."

-Aeschylus

"Much education today is monumentally ineffective. All too often we are giving young people cut flowers when we should be teaching them to grow their own plants."

-John W. Gardner

"I like a teacher who gives you something to take home to think about besides homework." 

-Edith Ann

Ultimate in Port-au-Prince!

Yesterday (Saturday), Ashley, David, and I set off to play some Ultimate in a friendly, mostly expat, league in PaP. When we got there we made the rounds, introducing ourselves by name and nationality. Turns out there are quite a few Canadians that play regularly! For the most part, everyone works for an NGO or an embassy. It was interesting to speak to people who had been here for spans of time ranging from 2 months to several years. It certainly seemed like I am fortunate to have such a good set-up and support network through the school. There was a fair amount of cynicism and exasperation going around about Haiti and peoples' experiences in the country. The adventure is still very fresh for me, but somehow, I have a hard time believing i'll ever be as jaded as some of the people I spoke to yesterday. I guess I should be thankful that I have youthful resilience and idealism on my side...

Ultimate was exactly what I'd been missing since arriving in Haiti. It was the first real physical activity I have had the opportunity to engage in, and getting my heart rate up helped clear my head. I could feel the endorphins pumping throughout the ride back to the apartment complex! Nothing like running your ass off in 30+ degree heat. I don't think I've ever been so sweaty. The caliber of ultimate is slightly lower than what I became accustomed to in Kingston, but I can't wait to go out again next week. Our teams were microcosms of the population of Haiti and at any one time you were guaranteed to overhear at least three different languages being spoken. There are quite a few players that are new to the game so teaching the fundamentals will be fun. There are very few girls who play, so marking for us is easy but getting our hands on the frisbee is a little tougher.

What I'm most excited about (besides actually playing) is the additional dimension the league adds to my social life. Everyone at the apartment complex is great but it'll be nice to get away and interact with different people on a regular basis.

The down side to playing Ultimate in Haiti is the wind. She was ablowin' something fierce! Made more some frustrating plays, and apparently it keeps up like this until October...which makes sense given that hurricane season lasts until November. Just one more example of why the expression "This is Haiti!" was coined. Not even something as simple as a game of Ultimate can be uncomplicated for long in this country.

A Few Quick Tidbits...

1. The Haitian currency is a gourde. 42 gourdes = $1 USD. There also exists a third "mental" currency called the Haitian dollar. Back in the day, the gourde was much stronger and $1 USD = 5 gourdes. This simple rate of exchange stuck and thus emerged the Haitian dollar, which is still used today despite the decrease of the value of the gourde.

2. Haiti is technically in the same time zone as Toronto. However, according to most digital devices it should be an hour behind. The President of the Republic of Haiti, Joseph Michel Martelly, decided to advance the national time by 60 minutes on the second Sunday of March from 2:00 AM. This schedule change was made ​​in order to optimize energy consumption in the country during the summer. By the same decree dated March 7, 2012, the President of the Republic also decided to decrease the time by 60 minutes on the first Sunday of November 2012. 

3. In Haiti, people take great pride in their appearance. Everyone is impeccably groomed and well dressed, not a wrinkle in sight! Grooming activities are considered social events because they can be found everywhere and are inexpensive. 

4. Haitian people expect to be greeted often throughout the day, and saying "Bonjour" or "Bon soir" is considered a must in order to maintain a good relationship. Like in France, Haitians will exchange kisses on the cheek as a greeting. Often they will just kiss one cheek but occasionally they'll go for the other as well. It is good practice to get to an event early so that, as people arrive, they come to you to greet you. Upon arrival, you must kiss everyone who is already in attendance, otherwise you risk offending someone! 

That being said, I have to get to bed. There will be lots of kissing tomorrow, as it is the first day of all-faculty training. All teachers, new and returning, will be prepping their classrooms, updating their moodles, fine-tuning course outlines, and attending meetings. I hope my classroom has finished under-going it's facelift...nothing like a fresh coat of paint and a white board to spruce up the place!

My 1st Taste of Culture Shock and it's Sweeter than Expected!

So how’s this for culture shock…maid service is part of the housing package the school puts together for their “import teachers”. It’s a bit misleading as we are responsible for their wages, however the cultural norm is for the upper echelons of Haitian society to employ women to clean their houses. This is probably one of the very few places in the world where teachers rank among the wealthy.

Lucienne cleans our bathrooms, our kitchens, does the laundry and ironing, will go to the marché for us (she gets the sweet deals and amazing local produce, as she can haggle in Kreyol and I cannot…yet) AND cooks us three meals a week.

I’ve gone around and around with the weird hierarchy that is involved, the guilt at having someone else do my dirty work (pun intended), and the trust issues that come up with giving unrestricted access to your home (including money, ID, and belongings) to a relative stranger.

The conclusion I’ve reached is (and this is based on feedback from several members of our staff team both Haitian and American) that while I will have to be vigilant regarding my belongings, be clear on my expectations, and maintain a distant but respectful relationship with Lucienne, it’s a pretty sweet deal. Although I think it's self-serving, it was pointed out to me that it also provides much needed jobs for people who may not otherwise have them.