The world needs more dump trucks and high-powered people fist pumping.

A friend and I decided to head out for a drink.  We walked outside our apartment where cabs usually drive by, and we waited… and waited… and waited.  Around the bend came a dump truck, and almost in unison we shrugged, “Why not?”

Moments later, I was struggling to get my foot high enough to reach the ladder of the beastly truck.  Off to the bar!

When I arrived at the bar, I ran into my homeboy, the Ambassador of Kuwait.  He is an older gentleman, who everyone seriously calls “Your Excellence”.  Obviously, I decided I needed to teach him something new.  The “fist pump” it was!  The memory of holding a glass of wine in one hand and pumping my other arm in circles to the song “I Got a Feeling”, all while His Excellence arm pumped in unison next to me, is a memory I will never forget.  It turns out, it is pretty fun calling out your friend’s name while arm pumping with the ambassador, and seeing the look of surprise delight on your friend’s face.  Forget teaching or charity work… how about being a good friend.

Why Shave Your Head? Ridding Yourself of Attachment While Wearing Hair Accessories

I am moving in a month.  Still haven’t found a place.  Tonight my friend told me about a place 15 minutes out of town.  It may be available if a monk is not living in it.  Supposedly, the home is a bit out of the "chaos" of the city and very quiet.  My friend told me I would begin to like cats because they are everywhere there.  While I am not convinced I will begin to like creatures, the place has come to sound very appealing.  When in Bhutan, right?

While the idea of moving to a small hut, meditating, and yogaing, sounds pretty damn nice, I think it also may be in the book What White People Like, right in between “moving to third world countries” and “watching kids in uniforms sing Buddhist prayers”.  Tonight, as I shopped at the mini-shop up the street, I asked myself if I would be better off ridding myself of attachment and social constraints by purchasing one of the many large, colorful scrunchies sold everywhere, and rocking it at all the local chillip hangouts.  It may even go nice with my beige shorts and ultra functional footwear that look like water socks.  Again... when in Bhutan.

But hey, I am blond, and my name is Jennifer Adams… white as they come.  Does this mean I conform to a white stereotype and become a crazy cat lady who retreats to a mountain getaway for a year?  Perhaps.  Or, with a name from the list of most popular names to give your 80’s baby, should I do a better job representing my decade of birth?

Taking votes.

I am a jerk. Maybe you like it.

What I have learned to do when people speak of ‘perspectives’ and think they are so enlightened they should teach everyone (a lot):

Zone out.  Say little.

What I do when I get called out for this behavior:

Respond accordingly.

Here is the message I received tonight after a long one-sided conversation:

Him: “Hey there, make my day, prove me rite - be a dumb blond and give me your cell number.”

(Let the pissing contest begin.)

Me: “Bummer you weren't in my class when I taught my students not to overgeneralize the "magic e". Rite? We all know overgeneralizing is not good.”

Cliffnotes of a long paragraph response from him:  Blah blah blah… “touched a raw nerve rite ... all this just comes from a culture that does not even have a word called - 'low self esteem'” blah blah blah… give me your number if you want to hear about me.

Me: “Heard all about it. Any other questions? Oh wait... Cheers. Goodnight.”

Maybe he thought it would be a better idea to hit on the English teacher and not the dumb blond.

Him: “So what is the magic e?  I always liked ornithology.”

Me: “The study of birds?”

Him: “No the study of words like ‘splash’ and ‘crash’.”

Me: “Well, I am teaching onomatopoeia next month after I teach the study of birds.  Onomatopoeia will be a 10 minute mini lesson because there is not much to it.”

Him: Can I come?  Can I get your number?

Me: “Gotta get to bed. Good times.  ‘Bam!’ ‘Crash!’ ‘Wow!’  I know how you like your onomatopoeia "Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!"

Him: “But no really… can I get your number?”

Dear bird loving, onomatopoeia scholar:


If you are reading this, please know that it is only a “perspective”.  All in good fun… and no, you cannot have my number.


P.S. I know an English teacher who can define self-esteem for you.

Teaching Compassion Through Confusion

I have a vivid memory of fighting with my sister as a young kid and my father walking in to break it up.  In anticipation of being scolded and having a talk, I can remember being horrified by the next thing that came out of his mouth. 

“Why don’t I just leave you guys in this room and lock the door until one of you kills the other one.  Then it will be solved.  It looks like that is what you are trying to do anyways.”

The words were so horrifying and so Mike Adams, that it made me realize how truly stupid I was acting.  He won.  The fight was over.

My students, "The Firecrackers", know that empty sorries are pointless.  We discuss the fact that it is nice to follow up a sincere apology with, “What can I do to make it up to you?”  They also know the importance of even checking in a bit later with, “Hey, are we still cool?”

As a teacher, I know that my hormonal mini people are still getting the hang of kindness and compassion.  It is my job to foster these communication skills.  It is also my job to stay sane by entertaining myself a bit…. Soooo… once in a blue moon, I switch it up.

The umpteenth time I hear ten kids come up to me and tattle about “one kid saying such-and-such to so-and-so, who said that he loves so-and-so who in reality, really loves so-and-so”, there is sometimes only one answer.  The answer is the less traditional mediation route, which involves bursting into a related song such as “Who Do You Love?” or “Love Me, Love Me, Say That You Love Me.”  All of this occurs as I fling my hands in the air to simulate dorky teacher dancing.  This usually solves the problem because the students either laugh until they forget, or figure I have greater issues than they do.

Times like these are equally as fun when a child knowingly asks me a ridiculous question.  I have found that now and then, when the kids can find their own answer, it is alright to bypass the teachable moment.  Instead, I reference something that will fly over their head and get them to stop asking stupid questions.  The more ridiculous the better. For example:

“Why can’t I stand on the chair next to the two story window?”

“Because then Eric Clapton may have to write another song.”

“Madam Jennifer, are you and Madame Jessica (teacher and my roommate from New York) friends?”

“Ever since Biggie died it has been a little rough.”

“They won’t share the basketball.”

“The phone goes green, green, and I pink it up, and say ‘yellow!’”

Please know, that nine times out of ten, my students hear a traditional, hearts and flowers response in regards to making friends.  The other one time, I can’t lie.  I enjoy seeing the kids shockingly smile and laugh when their teacher use a less traditional approach like saying, “Save the drama for your mama,” or “Excuses are like butts, everyone’s got one.”

You Know You Are in Bhutan When: Part 3

You are sitting in clock tower square, soaking up sunshine, and eating delicious ice cream from the only ice cream parlor in Thimphu.

You have no water in your apartment for 48 hours

People throw the word “love” around very liberally because there is no Dzongkha word for “love”, and they haven’t quite gotten the hang of it.  There is also no word for “goodbye” or “cheers”.

Nobody is ashamed to tell you they need to go to the bathroom because they have diarrhea or a “runny tummy”.  If a kid has to go to the bathroom, they say, “I am very pissy” or, “I am very shitty”.

You are drinking whiskey with the Ambassador of Kuwait and he makes a joke that “Kuwait is not the country you are bombing”.  As the party goes on, everyone gets saucier, and he asks you to teach him the appropriate time to cheers and the appropriate time to drop an F bomb into conversation.

You buy a bag of eggs, only to find that they are all rotten.  (I will laugh very hard the next time I see someone return brown lettuce at Trader Joes.)

Giardia is to Bhutan as Chlamydia is to Isla Vista.  A quick round of antibiotics and you are all good.  You are not afraid.

You are having drinks at a bar after hours and the King’s brother walks in.  The weekend after, you have drinks with his cousin.

You see a kid taking a dump on the side of the road.

One of your students asks for your parents' contact information because her mother will be visiting CA and would like to meet up.  Why is the student so striking and familiar looking?  She is related to the Queen Mother.

You see a group of children playing and spinning each other around in an old cement mixer, as if it is a merry-go-round.  You imagine the lawsuit that would happen in the US.

You get excited when you come across Herbal Essence Shampoo and tampons with applicators.

Your are running up a mountain covered in prayer flags.

Players Gonna Play

A student came up to me one day out of the blue and told me that it is a shame we all grow old.  He said he thought it would be better if we all started out old and grew younger.  I liked this thought.

When I was just getting into the field of special education I applied for a job doing at home therapy.  The awesome woman who interviewed me told me that all was a go, but the only thing she needed was a video of me playing with a kid.  She explained that she could teach me all the skills I needed to teach the children, but playing is something you either have or you don’t.  As I continued in the field, I came to find this fact very true and a little bit sad.  As adults, pretend play becomes unnatural. I know this is true because there were days I would leave work more spent than the kids.  Creating silly and fun moments is something kids are good at, while I had to expend more energy because it is something I was relearning.

I’ve recently noticed that play has a strong relationship with inhibitions.  Small children could care less what people say or think about them.  We learn insecurities as we grow up and these insecurities fight with our ability to be silly and create new ideas.  We start with no inhibitions, and as we grow, we become more aware of the "cool factor".  Basically, we have the ability to mess around and we lose it.

My teens and early twenties were the highlight of my "cool factor" years.  Now as I get older, I have begun to give less of a rats ass about looking cool and I have begun to have more fun.  I have learned that a good player is somebody who goofs around for their own joy and not the joy of those around them.

When I started out, I played to engage students.  I played to build relationships.  I played to be the cool teacher.  The more I taught the more I played.  Practice, practice, practice!  Now I can officially say that I go out to the playground because I feel giddy when I tap a student on the shoulder furthest from me, and hide while the student looks in the wrong direction.  This makes me laugh.

My skills have taken hours of practice, but I know they have paid off because my laughs have become more guttural, my repertoire of cheese ball jokes has flown off the charts, and I officially play for me!  I am happy to say I feel as though I am moving backwards and growing younger.

Mindfulness

I recently heard a teacher described as a strong teacher for the specific instances he turns into teachable moments.  This has stuck with me over the past week.

Everyday the teachers at ELC are served tea during the first break.  Today, a student came hauling into my class, bumped into me and spilled my piping hot tea down my arm.  I seized the moment.  In my pained state, I loudly asked the class to return to their seats despite the break time.   I did not mention the fact that my hand was crispy, so as not to embarrass the student.  Instead, I took a deep breath (maybe more than one), and I calmly explained that we all make mistakes, but our school emphasizes mindfulness. 

“What does it mean to be mindful indoors?”  It was not hard to elicit the proper response: move your body slowly.

Seeing as though many religious rituals serve purposes, Bhutan makes you realize that mindfulness has its place in life.  Don’t be careless or you may step off the curb and fall several feet into Bhutan’s drainage ditch system. If you don’t mindfully consume your food, you may bite into a rock as my roommate did and find out that it takes 3 people, 2 Novocain shots and 1 hour to yank a tooth.

More importantly, I have learned to be more mindful of precious moments I know I will never experience anywhere else.  Where else will I be shaded by a flowering apple tree, listening to a quad of students sing the afternoon prayers in Dzongkha, while I am gazing out toward the beautiful clouds hanging lower than the mountaintops?  Visa extension please?