The Monkeys Outside My Window

There are langur monkeys outside my window. Many people have heard me complain about the monkeys on this mountain, so let me be clear: there are two major species of monkey on this mountain, the rhesus and the langur. The monkeys I encountered this morning are not the rhesus, the"raccoons of India", who stake their claims on the school quad and whose red faces terrorize children. These monkeys are silvery, with deep black faces. They are shy, and rarely seen, looking at human visitors with a bemused, tranquil expression.

Today, I awoke to find them outside my window. I heard a tap on the metal balcony outside, which I thought was the garbage man or my aya. Closer inspection, however, revealed a pair of langurs, moving from the balcony to the stand of trees close by. They used the balcony as a sort of highway, moving with ease from one tree stand to another, leaping, then sitting casually with each other, tails dangling below the branches. I stared at them for a while, awed by their presence, and then scurried to get my camera. I carefully parted the curtains with my camera and took a couple shots. The monkey in my view turned sharply to stare at me, and I paused, taken aback. What are you doing here, she seemed to say. Put the camera away, please. She wasn't rude or aggressive, but intense in her stare. Here was a monkey who knew her personal space, and I was invading it. We eyed each other a bit longer, until the sudden bark of the neighbor's dog startled her and the other monkey out of their particular tree and a little farther down the mountain.

As I looked through my sliding glass doors, a bit nervous to go outside (either for fear of scaring them or in fear of my own safety), I suddenly realized the backward zoo I was in. Humans have been colonizing the nature on this mountain for hundreds of years, yet here I stood, camera in hand, in a cage of a room with a window for a wall. I was simultaneously a specimen, an intruder, and a documentarian, exoticizing the beautiful wilderness that had been claimed for my sake years before. As I tried to rationalize my presence, I felt so rude being here. I suppose it's possible to chalk it up to meta-cognition in human beings. It's possible to explain it by indulging in human nature's curiosity with the rest of the world. But I have never felt so out of place as I did this morning, holding my camera against the glass of my cage, while the langurs went about their morning routine.

Observation Time!

The beginning of this week has marked an important step in the St. Olaf student teacher journey: the (often-dreaded) observation. Student teachers in the States have 8 different observations spread out over their one or two student teaching placements, but, since I'm in India, the observation happens once, and it happens early. A mere three and a half weeks into the school year (I haven't even learned everyone's names yet!), Professor Leer made her journey to India to observe at Woodstock and Kodaikanal, a school in south India.

Ironically, Prof Leer is one of the only education professors that I never really met during my four years at St. Olaf, so I didn't know what to expect. I was a bit nervous about being observed by someone I had never had much interaction with, but I've had a great time the past few days. Obviously, it's been hard work to make sure that everyone goes as well as it possible can (I mean, just kidding I do that every single day), and it's tiring to not only teach the lesson but talk at length about it afterwards, but the perks definitely outweighed the benefits. Let me elaborate:

1) I know I'm on the right track right away: when I first got the dates of my observation, I was a little panicky. I have no idea what I'm doing! I can have someone observe me now! But I thought about it and realized that student teaching is all about not knowing what I'm doing. This is THE PERFECT TIME for me to make a fool of myself, because I'm not getting paid and someone can tell me if I mess up. No hard feelings. Nothing has been even close to a disaster, given a large measure of meticulous preparation and a small measure of serendipity and happy accident, so everything's cool! And now I know exactly what I'm doing right and exactly what I need to work on.

2) Having someone watching me makes me more self-reflective: When someone is scrutinizing me, it's an automatic response for me to scrutinize myself. In the case of an outfit or a hairstyle, that's not so great, but in the case of lesson plan development and classroom management, it makes me a much better educator. It's also great to have someone here who's only job is to talk with me about myself. Even my host teacher, as wonderful and patient and willing to share as she is, has other things to do. Prof Leer's only job here at Woodstock was to watch me and tell me about myself. Awesome!

3) St. Olaf has a generous meal budget: Thanks to Prof Leer and the education department at St. Olaf, I was able to enjoy the delights of one of the classiest restaurants on the mountain on Sunday, and the wonders of the local Tibetan restaurant on Monday. So much delicious food, and I couldn't even believe that I was being treated to two dinners off campus in two days. And, since the Rupee has devalued so much in the past few months, the US dollar goes a lot farther! Woot!

4) I got to know a great professor: You guys. Prof Leer is awesome. I'm honestly really sad that I didn't have a chance to take a class with her, and I'm disappointed in myself for not introducing myself when I was at school. She's a super educator, a great supervisor, and she was fun to spend time with! What a great combo.

Now that my observation is over with, I have other assignments and things to complete before I can actually get my teaching license. I do feel like I've conquered a major step in this process, though, and I'm feeling good about what's coming next!

Jai Hind!

Tomorrow, August 15th, marks the first month I have spent in India. It is also, appropriately enough, the national holiday of independence! At Woodstock, the Indian Day of Independence is celebrated with a number of things. First of all, it's a day off from classes! Secondly, everyone is expected to wear formal dress (preferably of the Indian variety). Thirdly, there is a tent set up over the entire quad and special food is made. I can't wait to see everyone in their fancy saris and kurtha pajamas, experience the ceremony and taste the food. It's going to be a wonderful day!

I can't really believe it's been a month. I have done so much here already, I can hardly wait for the months ahead.

Tiny Airplanes

There are tiny airplanes in my sky.

Flittering Icaruses who fly
and crash
and fly
and crash
and fly again, undeterred.
They come from nowhere, quiet and solitary by day,
then find their GPS coordinates pointed unwaveringly at a bright orb
that ignites only after sunfall.
Greedy creatures.
They try to swallow something bigger than they can understand.
Their flight pollutes my peace.

Alas, the ceiling is too tall for Daedalus to intervene.

The light at the end of the tunnel

After about 4 days of rest--and the boredom that inevitably accompanies a four-day stay in a one-room apartment-- I am on the mend. I woke up on Friday morning and felt hungry (always a good sign), and managed to make it to school for the whole day! I haven't felt nauseous since Thursday, and I've been eating regular meals. My cooperating teacher even said that I had the color back in my cheeks, which was wonderful to hear!

During my time of recuperation, I was so happy to be in a community of people who know these kinds of illnesses like the back of their hand. Whenever people asked me how I was, it was with genuine concern, and when I described my symptoms, I was met with either steady nonchalance ("Oh, yeah. That sounds like what I had about 6 months ago") or some great tips from the top ("If you need rehydrating salts, I have a ton. Also, whenever you run low on probiotics, let me know. I do have some Vomistop if the nausea gets too bad..."). The entire campus, it seems, is a veritable pharmacy, and everyone is willing to share. In addition to strictly medical advice, I was aided by a fellow knitter who supplied me with some yarn and a pair of needles to keep my mind and fingers occupied, and a caring mother who ordered me thukpa (a Tibetan noodle soup) and momos (if you don't know what those are, you haven't fully lived) from a local restaurant when I was afraid I wasn't going to eat dinner.

This weekend, I am taking it easy. I learned how to cook dal (dahl/daal) from the woman I hired to clean my house; I don't speak much Hindi, and she doesn't speak much English, so we taught each other the names for different foodstuffs in each language. As she set about trying to make a meal with the meager stores and lackluster cooking tools in my kitchenette, I carefully observed her movements, the heat levels of the stove, and the length of time between each change. I think I have it written down in a way that will serve me well later on, but only time will tell. I'll have to get my hands on a pressure cooker when I'm back in the States so I can recreate this most basic of Indian dishes!

It's all fun and games...

...until somebody gets a bacterial stomach infection.

That's right, folks. It finally happened. I am becoming fully indoctrinated into the Indian system. I won't go into the gory details (certain, ahem, bodily samples were involved), but I've been diagnosed with a good old-fashioned stomach infection. I'm currently taking doses of anti-biotic and pro-biotic at the same time (hmm...), and I've been home and in the health center for two days. There's not much to worry about; it's pretty low-grade from what I can tell. Just a few waves of nausea and some hot and cold spells.

It can't be all sunshine and monsoon lilies, can it?

The one thing that has really gotten to me, aside from the sheer boredom of being alone all day in my one-room apartment, is the walk up the hill when I decide I can't do school anymore. On a good day, my trek home is an energized 12-minute power walk with a stair workout at the end. The past few days, however, it's taken me about a half hour to make it from school to my apartment. On Monday, the first day I really felt sick, I made it up the road to my stairs, which look like this:

These look fine, but they quickly devolve into a rocky path
and a switchback.

I began my ascent and stepped onto the first two stairs. I realized then how much effort it would actually take me to get up to my house and my bed, and I started to cry. I stood there for about a minute, hyperventilating like a pouty 3-year-old, trying to calculate how long it would take to get home vs. how long it would take to find a coolie* and pay him to carry me to my door. I decided that, while a coolie could probably easily carry me up the hill--I've seen men carry office desks up the mountain on their backs-- it would definitely be the less-dignified way to get home, so I trudged on. (In hindsight, I'm not sure that stumbling up the hill while whining like a toddler was any more dignified than the coolie option, but what's done is done.)

I've been trying to take it easy, but many of my college friends know how bad I am at keeping still while I'm under the weather, so it's a constant struggle. In lieu of teaching, I've been trying to put together lesson plans for the future, and I've also started really planning my month of travel in November! There will be more information to come regarding my travel plans soon. Right now, though, I'm going to concentrate on slamming this stomach infection so I can get back to teaching those kids!

*The term "coolie" is not a derogatory term here in India. I'm not being disrespectful in this sense.

The First Week of School!

Alright, people. It has begun. I'm officially a student teacher!

The students arrived on Saturday and Sunday, school started on Monday, and it's been crazy ever since. I've been observing the general music classes, and starting on Wednesday, I've been teaching rhythm reviews to each grade. Since I'm mostly used to a choir classroom that focuses on repertoire, I'm excited-- and a little nervous-- to be working around a set of concepts instead. Flipping between ages and developmental levels has been fascinating so far!

The colorful general music classroom!

The names are the hardest thing for me right now, I would say. There are so many children from all over the world, and they all have such unique names! Some of the phonetics, especially with the Chinese students, are completely foreign to me, so it's tough to keep everyone straight. I've asked my 6th graders to start quizzing me when they see me in the quad, and I think that's helping. Regardless of their difficult names, they're amazingly sweet kids and I can't believe how well-behaved they are!

Teaching here is a very different experience than in the States. The classes are smaller, so it's easier to manage a classroom, and the students are (typically) more well-behaved than students I've had experience with in the past. In addition, the boarding system means that this school is incredibly tight-knit and close. Some of the students have started boarding at grade 4, which was unthinkable to me, but it seems that they're doing well. In the senior school, groups of students are assigned to advisors on the staff, and it's not unusual for the advisors to invite their student groups over to their homes and provide dinner and team-building. When I first heard that, I was taken aback; in the States it seems like if you even touch a student you're in trouble, but that's not how it is here at all. I'm finding it to be a warm and inviting place to learn. I really like it a lot.

The quad from the third level balcony.
This is right out the door of my classroom!

This weekend, I'm taking a bus with some staff down to Dehra Dun (the nearest city down the hill). I'm going to do some shopping and just hang out with some of the staff ladies! It'll be great to get down the mountain and spend some time just socializing. There are a couple get-togethers this weekend as well, so let's see if I can actually get some lesson planning done! Fingers crossed!

And, just because, here's a shot of the view from my front door.
It's the monsoon, so when the clouds clear and the sun comes out,
you have to make sure it's well-documented.