Uppercase Caterpillars and Graphic Tongueplay

Not a terribly eventful week... here are the things that stand out.


• Uppercase caterpillar

I've been teaching my first graders to distinguish between and identify uppercase and lowercase letters. This week our "read aloud" book was The Very Hungry Caterpillar, in which (**spoiler alert**) a very hungry caterpillar eats a lot of things and becomes big and fat.



I'm reading it to my kids for the first time, and they are loving it. Each new thing that the caterpillar eats has them absolutely riveted. As I turn the page to the first illustration of the newly massive caterpillar, almost every one of the children begins shouting excitedly, "UPPERCASE CATERPILLAR! UPPERCASE CATERPILLAR!"



I kinda want to name my class The Uppercase Caterpillars now, but I don't think that will help in my efforts to convince them that the word uppercase applies only to letters. Boo.



• Make it rain...

"Zero break" is the term used at our school for detention... there are two 20 minute breaks in the day, and if someone gets "zero break" then they will be given a slip of paper which inexplicably has a dinosaur on it and they will have to serve their time.



Also necessary to fully understand the humor in the following story is the colloquial meaning of "make it rain"... it usually refers to dollar bills at a strip club... and I'll leave it at that.



In a moment of frustration as my 5/6th grade class kept speaking in Arabic while they were working together to block their scenes from Newsies, I may have silenced them and then shouted in a very threatening manner, "I will make it RAIN zero breaks! Make it rain."

• Chopfest 2010

My Thursday afternoon excursion included a trip to the store where I had bought the blender/food processor which so infuriated me last week. After a demonstration which assured the merchant that the product did not work, and after a dispute as to how much I had originally paid for it (in all fairness, I was combining shekels, dinars, and dollars for the transaction), I was told that he could not give me my money; the owner would have to come. A few hours later, the owner arrived, plugged it in, and with right-left-right-left-A-B-left-up-right-down secret combo, made the thing work. I spent the rest of the night chopping, slicing, and blending everything I could get my hands on. The culmination of my efforts and zenith of my joy was a fresh salsa eaten on freshly baked pita chips.



This was the highlight of my weekend.

• Palestinian census... or Hamas?

I was at home alone (or so I thought) this morning, and someone was ringing the doorbell. I'm not a fan of answering the door, considering that if someone is buzzing or knocking, I probably don't know them, and I'm typically terribly haram inside the house and would prefer not to have my haven of haram invaded.



These people wouldn't give up, so I finally caved and opened the door (after covering my shameful shoulders and thighs). Apparently our landlord had commissioned some gents to do some work outside, and they wanted me to take down the clothes hanging on the clothes lines outside. Growing increasingly irritated (because I'm a jerk), I take down the clothes my various roommates were drying and head back inside. Annoyed that there will be men out there for the rest of the morning, meaning that I won't be able to be haram near any of our back windows or on our back porch, I head into my room and re-haram.



I've barely had time to get my naked shoulders settled when there's another round of knocking at the door. Muttering a few things (which were definitely haram), I sleeve myself up and wrap a skirt around me to open the door, finding - to my surprise - a woman wearing an official-looking badge, carrying a clipboard and a suitcase. She begins asking me questions in Arabic as I return little more than a quizzical look.



"Do you live here?" she asks me in Arabic. "Yes," I reply. She continues down a line of questioning which seems rather odd coming from a stranger who has just arrived at your door, although I'm sure it would have made more sense if I had a broader vocabulary. I stop her.



"Who are you? Why are you asking these questions?"



In the end, I decided that she was telling me that she was administering the census, however the likelihood of such a thing occurring in the West Bank seemed a bit incredible to me.



In the end, I believe that I've either participated in a Palestinian census, or I've just sealed the fate of myself and my cohabitants in some way or another.



Time will tell.

• Things I should mention:
• Shapes have joined the Axis of A#*holes at the bidding of my colleague, Helen.
• I had a grown man stick his tongue out at me in an odd, licking fashion when I chastized him from the street for trying to run me over.  Strangest manisfestation of road rage I think I've ever seen.  Surprised and disturbed by the simultaneously graphic and childish display, I resorted to a more traditional response and flipped him off.  First time to do such a thing here, but I was caught off guard and it just slipped out...
• I'm teaching my kids to sing like the kids in Newsies.  "Not 'a Saturday night with the mayor's daughter', it's 'uh Satuh-day niyt wid da maya's dahw-tah'!" 
  Awesome.

That's it.  Bedtime in Nablus.

Cheers.

China has joined the Axis of A#$holes.

It's the end of another week.  Main events of the week include going to school, tutoring on the side, dinner with our principal, the continuation of Gossip Girl season 2, and the joy of having successfully downloaded some of the new seasons of 30 Rock and It's Always Sunny in Philidelphia. 

Having purchased a blender/food processor would be on that list, but the thing appears to be better suited for placement in a model home than actual use.  The instructions are in Hebrew, and I have received no response from my email to the Chinese manufacturer.  One of my roommates insists that this is an intentional FU from Israel, and I hold the Chinese culpable.  Either way, both countries have now joined my personal Axis of A#$holes.  I'm keeping a list.

As I wasted hours of my time fiddling with the homefill, digging around on the internet searching for answers, I kept hearing the nightly "booms" that we typically hear around 10pm, although this time they were followed by car horns and then sirens.  None of this deterred me from my quest, but my efforts were fruitless nonetheless.  To date, I have no idea how to use my blender, nor do I have any idea what those booms are.

That's it for now.  Below are some quotes from my life here for your enjoyment.

"Haram"-related quotes
The following things are haram:  exposed shoulders, kneecaps, the female form, the smoking of cigarettes in public by women, and a good amount of my normal activity.  *Note:  I'm not dressing like a pirate-hooker, but just wearing a tank top constitutes showing off my haram-bits.

• "Hey, if you're gonna be haram, stay in here.  The owner of the building is here."
• "Guys, the Arab staff isn't coming in on Saturday, so if you want to be haram, you can." 
  (pause)  "I think she's talking to you, Kelly." 
  "Yes, I was."

Things our kids say

• I taught one of my first graders to answer the question "How are you?" with the response "Straight chillin."  It's awesome.
• One of my 5/6th graders had been touching me too much, and I had told her frequently, "We don't touch Miss Jones."  After school she was touching me again, and I asked her, "What do we say?"  Her immediate response -
  "Life isn't fair." 
  "No, Karma, not our class motto; the other thing.  About touching me."
  (For the record, she wouldn't say "We don't touch Miss Jones" until I sat on her and crumpled leaves in her face.)
• "Miss Jones, Miss Jones?"
  "Yes, Nassir?"
  "Uh... Close only counts in horse shoes-es and... uh... what is it? Gredanes?"
  "Hand grenades."
  "No, it's just gredanes."
  "No, HAND grenades."
  (Miss Jones pantomimes pulling the pin of a hand grenade with her teeth and hurling it at Miss Jessica, imitating the sound of Miss Jessica exploding.)
  "Keep working on it Nassir. No Jone$ies unless it's perfect by the time you get in line."
• "Students, there will be no Jone$y Store this week for anyone because Nouraldeen didn't do his homework."
  (a collective groan comes from the class)
  "What should we do about Nouraldeen not doing his homework?"
  "We should kill him with a knife!"
  "No, Bilal, let's not kill our classmates with a knife.  How about we just remind him to do his homework."

Weekend wrap-up

Weekend in Nablus, which means I have the energy and time for an update.  I'll keep with the present for the most part rather than playing any catch-up on the time that I wasn't posting.

I spent the entirety of my last weekend at school working on lesson plans and preparations for the week to follow.  The difficulty I've had making lesson plans was rather surprising, but after co-planning my last week with my director, I feel that I have a better handle on what I should be doing.

In the midst of my marathon work weekend, I received an email notifying me that Josh Rake had died in a car accident.  For those of you who don't know, I basically grew up with my best friend, Melissa, after the age of 12.  Her brothers are like my brothers, and Josh and his twin Matt have been close friends of her younger brother Ryder for the last decade or so. 

Immediately after receiving the email, I got a skype call from my family, along with my 2 year old niece.  Seeing her smiling face, singing Itsy Bitsy Spider with her, and making faces back and forth allowed me to wipe away the thought of the painful news I'd just received. 

Josh's funeral was held two days ago.  Ryder was a pallbearer.  The Itsy Bitsy Spider's effects finally wore off on me by Thursday.  Not being around people who share your grief seems to compound it.  Not being there to comfort the people you love who are grieving sucks, too. 

The Strouds had another loss this week, Uncle Rick.  In less than a week's time, Bob and Ryder will both be pallbearers for their close friends.  If you are reading this, please keep the Strouds in your thoughts and prayers right now.  Please keep the Rake family in mind as well.  Josh's parents just lost their 20 year old son, and Matt just lost his twin.

My great-aunt Beverly just passed away yesterday, as well.  Beverly had been suffering, and we all hope that she has now found relief. 

On a lighter note, I heard Avril Lavigne's "Complicated" played on the banjo yesterday.  Must say that it was the highlight of my day, if not my week.

Love to all. 

Episode Uno.

My apologies for the lack of updates.  I was working on a video compilation about two weeks ago, but after my efforts being thwarted by technology, or perhaps by a defecit of skills on my part, I gave up.

Yesterday was the official one month mark in Nablus.  It's been a good experience thus far, with a smattering of the requisite frustrations.  I'll start with my first week - Enjoying the Honeymoon.

During the first week, my co-workers and I were basically just settling in.  At this point there were five of us.  Greg (from Colorado, the People-eating State) and Delphino (a small boy trapped in the body of a giant wall of a man) were the two who I met at the airport.  When we found our way to our new place, Jess, our house-mom/Assistant to the English Director/First and Second Grade Teacher Extraordinaire was there to welcome us.  We all chose rooms in the spacious 4-bedroom flat, although at that time it was uncertain who would be staying there, as the final roster of Team PBS was not yet settled.  The lower level of our place is occupied by our fearless leader, He Who Is the English Department, "Dr. Sean". 

The boys and I took a trip to Jerusalem a few days after arriving to pick up our newest teacher, who we were to meet at the Damascus Gate in Jerusalem.

In front of the Damascus Gate in Jerusalem

There were a few issues with our plan.  It was the last Friday of Ramadan, and on that day, Palestinians who might not usually be able to get into Jerusalem are permitted so that they can pray on this very special day.  Well, despite this, the checkpoint at Kalundia was shut down.  We arrived to a mass of cars, taxis, and people on foot crowded on our side of the cement blockades, and Israeli soldiers on the other.  I have a short video below that I tried to take discretely. 

We followed Sean's lead, who has found in his four years of living in the West Bank that when all else fails, repeat the word "American".   With a wave of our magic blue passports, the soldiers let us to their side of the baracades and we were free to make our way to the waiting area with the turnstiles to take part in the spectacle 50 people trying to get through 3 turnstiles, each of which actually let someone through once every 5 minutes, typically to turn them away.  Apparently, those younger than 60 would not be permitted entry, despite the rumor that the cut-off was 50, and likewise no entry after 12:00 noon, as the entry allowance was for that prayer.  After finally getting through myself, I told my co-worker, "I haven't felt so happy to be an American in a long time." 


Now through, we made our way to the Damascus Gate, where we were to find the newest member of our team in a sea of hundreds of people.  Sean and I were the only two to have seen his picture, and Delphino and Greg were instructed by Sean to "just look for a black vampire."  And so it went that we searched for Blade in the Holy Land.

After seeing this sign, I realized why people didn't understand where I wanted to go when I asked which way to the Damascus Gate, having litterally translated those words.  The litteral translation would have been "baab dimeshq" - the gate of Damascus.  In Arabic it's actually called "baab al-a'amood" - the gate of the column.

Street in front of the Damascus Gate.  Note the guy with cart impeding traffic.  There was some honking involved.

Five hours later, no vampire sightings, and I was apparently sitting in an open-air urinal.  Fortunately my sense of smell leaves something to be desired... with the exception of this case, in which I was pleased to be able to sit in the one available shady spot without being driven away by the (apparently) overwhelming odor. 

We finally gave up on Blade, assuming that he would not come out while the sun was up, and we made our way back to Nablus.  The return journey included a ride in a shared taxi bus ("service") with fewer seats than people, and I ended up riding in a hole, balled up on the floor.  I might note that it had plenty of seats, simply one less than the driver wanted to cram in, and I was not forced into the hole but chose it myself after deciding that it was the only way the bus would ever start moving.  My attempt to crawl into the hole was, in true form, less than graceful, and assumingly left the other passengers with the renewed belief that all ijanib (foreigners) are classless/tactless/inappropriate/goingstraighttohell.  If only I could assure them that I offend sensibilities equally in the West. 

By the time we had reached our destination, I had a fantastic opportunity to practice my Arabic, translating for Sean's belligerent confrontation with our taxi driver regarding the price of our transport.  It was an extra 5 shekels that day due to the high demand (it being the last Friday of Ramadan and all), which displeased Sean, to put it mildly.  Finally, after telling him that I did not intend to translate the word "theif" into Arabic, Sean threw his 20 shekels through the window of the van and walked off.  I politely handed the man my own 20 shekels, as did the others.  I wish that I had this on video.


Well, that's it for now.  Although that only gets you into the first week, I'm going to stop with that adventure and get some work done for school.  Next time on IPS - Our cast of characters expands... and then contracts; adventures in the souq; and Kelly's attempt at being a teacher.  We'll make our way to present day soon, where you'll hear about my weekend in Tel Aviv, my newfound addiction to Gossip Girl, and the difficulties and joys I've encountered in my first attempt at being an elementary school teacher.  Once we catch up, I'll try to keep this updated more regularly. 

Much love, y'all.

Kelly out.