Friendly disclaimer: This blog post is quite long. I needed to get it out of my system due to several lovely friends wanting to know what my day looked like. So, I beg of you to bear with the lengthy nature of this post.
I have survived almost 7 weeks being away from the life we built in Atlanta and so far I can report that I am doing pretty good thus far. Certainly I have had bouts of self doubt and homesickness, but nothing a comforting cup of chai and a long Skype call cannot dispel.
I think I have attempted to express to my beloved compadres back in the States that this is not a 9 to 5 and that the experience will officially teach the over organized, often tense, and occasionally anxious Deborah how to relinquish control of factors beyond her scope.
As I sit on my pink yoga mat outside on my balcony, of which I a so thankful for, I try to collect my thoughts for this post. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breath in. Breathe out.
It begins with the call from the local mosque. The call to prayer. Daylight trickles under my bedroom door and the sounds of vehicles passing outside our apartment building remind me where I am. India. I roll away from the door and try to gain some calm so I can slip back into sleep. The echos of the neighborhood pack of dogs barking, intermingled with the local banana man's call to residents as he pushes his cart down our street put an end to that notion. It is now 6am and I find myself standing in the kitchen with one eye open. Coffee? Yes, yes that is what I used to drink every morning. Now it is tea. Boil water, add cardamon, tea, sugar, milk into the pot, bring back to a boil, strain and then drink. Second eye begins to open, however slowly. Awareness of the roach crawling across the counter sets in...squished. Another one bites the dust. I boil more water to make oatmeal and then wander to the computer to Skype with Jerome and collect my thoughts about the upcoming day while taking in the sounds of birds, rushing rickshaws, hammering of construction, and the whirling of our blessed ceiling fans.
6:30am I skype Jerome, check out twitter, respond to emails, waste time on Facebook stalking other fellows, check bank account ect.
7:00am-8am Wash the oil from my face that covers it each night, get dressed for school: leggings, kurta, and dupatta. Then check out my todo list for the day. Surveys? Check. Questions to ask Sir? Check. Emails to be made to various fellows ect? Check. I pack my lunch which consists of a peanut butter and honey sandwich on wheat bread and an orange.
8:00am Say goodbye to roommates and begin walking to the bus station.
8:10-9:00am Wait for the 113 bus at the station and ignore the stares from both men and women while also checking out various saree fabric for later inspiration. The bus arrives and I jump on and discover there is actually a seat available! Exciting! After two stops I give up my seat to an elderly man with crutches. The bus pulls up to my stop and I hop off and I begin the last stretch to my school. Dodging rickshaws, buses, cars, and motorcycles while I cross the busy street and then turn right onto the road that leads to the slum of Amberpet. I walk through the small vegetable market, and then pass the two tone green temple where goats leisurely lay on the steps watching pigeons aimlessly wander around. Amberpet's cricket ground is adjacent to the temple and men are already playing both cricket and volleyball (yes volleyball). The cricket ground is basically a giant dirt field the size of an NFL football field surrounded by a 4 foot concrete brick wall with wrought iron work atop it. A dull looking red rubber cricket ball flies over the fence and rolls to a stop in front of me. I pick it up and throw it back to the man on the other side...he nods. I will take that as a thank you. Continuing on my way down the road and pass the police training barracks where the new recruits are marching around a field to my left while some police in training stroll to the shower on my right, which is a line of faucets attached to a 4 foot concrete wall about 30 yards from the road. I keep my eyes straight and walk a bit faster. Passing though an opening in a 10 foot wall, which separates the police training property from the backside portion of Amberpet, is the last stretch of my morning commute. It is always fun to watch motorcycles, scooters, and people on foot take turns entering and exiting this odd little space in the wall. Ignoring the dead chicken on the side of the road, and the smell, and I turn a corner and I am there. Hymavathi High School.
9:00am - 3:20pm
I will give this in a brief bullet point form because this portion of my day alters daily and so does the exact time I leave.
Attend the last portion of the morning assembly which takes place in the street between two adjacent buildings the school uses for operations. Small Indian flags hang in rows from yarn strung between both buildings, while the children also stand in neat rows repeating their prayer to the goddess of education before dismissing the students to class.
Drop off my bag in Sir's office and say hello to Uma, the gent who is responsible for data entry and to Fatima, who is the 18 year old school clerk, and the slew of parents who have come to make a payment for their child's tuition.
Locate my owner and follow him as he conducts his "rounds" to each classroom between both buildings. His role is two fold: Owner and Principal of the school. During this time he may issue punishment to late students, or offer additional comments to the teachers regarding their performance.
Sit down with Sir in his pale mint green office and discuss what I have going on that day: distributing surveys to 10th class, trying to work out a date for JA to come to the school, meeting with 9th class to introduce the Design for Change competition. Then I proceed to ask him a few questions. During this exchange no less than 10 people have entered his office at various intervals to resolve a "doubt". Doubt = question. Sir is very available and as there is no structure that says he cannot be approached...yeah, speaking for more than 5 mins without an interruption is wonderful progress.
Inspire. "You must INSPIRE them!!! My IDEX Fellow will inspire!" No pressure right? Inspire to my Sir means I pop into classes and say hello, offer words of encouragement, reiterate they must be on time, have good habits, and study. Oh and "tell nice things to them". The looseness in this interpretation is laughable.
Introduce Design for Change to 9th class. More to come about this on Monday.
Eat lunch. Eating a peanut butter/honey sandwich with a group of 3rd class students who have never eaten a sandwich in their lives is pretty entertaining as each last one of them is eating rice. Peanut Butter? What is peanut butter? Such a mystery. After eating it is necessary to walk around proclaiming I did eat my lunch. Why? Every last Indian man, woman, and child within 10 feet of me will ask "Did you eat your lunch? Is it completed? Is that ALL you have? Surely a sandwich is not enough."
Observe the computer lab. Help students play around with the program paint.
Shake several hands in the hallways when teachers are not looking. The kids love this but the teachers frown on it because they believe I am distancing myself as a professional in doing so. "You are looking as a child." Well, I shake hands anyway because it brings a smile to the children's little faces. I have a soft spot for smiles.
Observe a few classes and make notes about rote teaching methods, the level of spoken English the teacher maintains, the discipline of the age levels (discipline is a term I will need to define in a separate post).
Hope it doesn't rain because I left my umbrella at home.
Try to reformat a parent survey in Sir's office from my jump drive. Realize that because Sir has an older version of word it is going to take far too long. Decide it is going to take too long and give Uma usage of the computer again.
Sit with Joythi , an incharge in my school, and learn about what her role is a bit more and just speak openly with her. Half of my job is to gain trust. Cultivate a rapport with the teachers and incharges so when I need support to make small changes they do not bauk at my ideas but rather trust me. This is easier said than done and takes sitting in silence while they work occasionally. Bringing printed articles lend to their belief I am "working" while they grade notebooks. This therefore gives me a reason to be sitting with them and is a small way into understanding the education system a bit more.
Use my iphone to show Joythi where her brother lives in LA and where I live in Georgia using Google maps. Giggle with her as she dreams about going to teach in America one day. Joythi is almost 40 and says she sees me as a friend. That is a big step. Progress is being made. But when to make a move...that is still unclear.
Wander around from class to class, hall way to hallway, smiling and complementing teachers as I can. The saying "Flattery will get you nowhere" is not true here. They love hearing how I love their sarees and bangels. A 50 year old woman giggled when I complimented her saree. I smiled inwardly.
Notice that it is 3:15pm and find my way back down to Sir's office. Meet Sabita, a younger incharge who leaves daily at this time. I climb on her Activia scooter and set off for the bus station to catch the 113 bus that will take me on the 30 min+ journey to my flat in Adarsh Nagar.
The rain begins.
3:30pm Run after the bus in the rain hurdling a giant puddle and climb aboard while it is still moving.
4:00pm. Home. Make tea. Shower.
5:00pm - 9pm Research, update twitter, respond to emails, facebook msg, edit documents, create to do list for tomorrow based on what I actually accomplished today, drink more tea, go to a working group meeting, go to an IDEX meeting, make dinner, do laundry, ect.
It ends with me on my balcony once again. Legs folded on my pink yoga mat. Listening to the music drift down from the Birla Mandir temple and the echos of my watchman's (guard) 5 children playing cricket in the alley next to our building.
It began with a call to prayer. It is my turn to finish it with a call to prayer.
