"It's like a loft apartment over a really great party*."

My ninth-grade class will be taking the PSSS test next week. For those unfamiliar, the PSSS is the pre-PSAT. The PSAT is the pre-SAT. Thus the PSSS is the pre-test for the pre-test for the test. Full disclosure: I kind of feel like it's all a big racket for the Collegeboard to make more money. But my girls do need some practice with standardized testing. They've never done a fill-the-bubble test. I had one student who is very stressed about whether or not she will correctly fill in the little bubbles.

To save time and help assuage the anxiety, we took a day this week to fill in the name and address portion of the answer sheet. I had slated for this task to take us roughly 20 minutes, and it ended up taking every bit of the 80 minute class period I had with them that day. They had SOO many questions! While the OCD teacher-who-must-stay-on-task in my was screaming that I should just tell them I'd answer their questions another time, I couldn't help but take this chance to explain things like why you should put two number for your birth date, even if you were born on a single-digit day.

You can't blame them! As I've mentioned before, these girls have never received mail before. They certainly don't know their addresses, and the fact that their P.O. box is their street address really confused them. I had to explain that their second name is considered to be their middle name, even though some of them have 4 and 5 names. I ruffled a few feathers when I explained that they didn't need to put anything in the Social Security number section of the answer sheet, because they didn't have one.

"Are you sure?"

"...yep. Pretty sure."

"What's this number thing on our passport?"

"Don't know about that, but I do know it's not your social security number."


Anyway, when we finally got to the "State" portion of their addresses, it was a no-brainer that they would fill in the "other" bubble. But they were perplexed by the "U.S. terr." bubble.

"That stands for U.S. territory."

"What's that mean?"

"A U.S. territory is kind of like a state, but not really. It is sort of a foreign country, but the US government protects it. Some U.S. territories are...Puerto Rico...um...Guam..."

"--like Canada," one of my girls interjected, very confidently and not at all jokingly.

I laughed a little too loudly at that one.

"No, Canada is a country on its own. It's not a U.S. territory at all."

"Y'huh! Canada's a part of America!"

"Well, it's part of NORTH America, but that's a continent, not a country."

"I swear to you Canada is a U.S. territory."

...ok. Sure thing, kiddo.

Vicariously yours,

*The title comes from a Robin Williams HBO special that the Mister and I used to have on DVD.

I want my mommy!

I have greatly enjoyed (slowly) getting to know the Arabic language and the idioms and phrases that are used by my students. One that I love is the "yuma*."

"Yuma" is most commonly used as an interjection by my students. For example, last year, in my 7th grade class, we read the teleplay for "The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street" then we watched the Twilight Zone episode. I had no idea what a hit the old '50s TV show would be! They loved it, and the simple plot lines and language were right on their comprehension levels! So for our reward party days, I downloaded a bunch of episodes and they begged to watch!

I laughed every time the scary pig-faced people were revealed or the creepy guy popped up unexpectedly in the back seat because 5 girls would simultaneously whimper and call out, "YUMA!"

"Yuma" means "Mommy." So when my girls are startled, they call out for their mommies!

I get the mental picture of Daffy Duck suspended in mid-air over a deep ravine or off the edge of a skyscraper, eyes wide staring at the camera for a second and quietly crying "mother" before disappearing from the shot.

I love it.

The Mister says the boys do the same thing. I think it's hilarious.

Vicariously yours,

*No, this is not where the Native Americans of Arizona got the name of the town. This is just the transliteration of the word. 

From the mouths of babes

As I've mentioned before, I'm teaching social studies in addition to English this year. I'm ok with the change because I'm certified in both areas. The tough part is, in social studies, we aren't using traditional standards, we didn't have a textbook until recently, and we came up with the unit ideas before applying the standards.

Teacher friends will know that this is a little backwards. You're supposed to base your units on the standards and THEN come up with your units and THEN see what your textbooks and other materials have that will help you get the lessons taught.

Needless to say, for that reason, I've been a little (ok, a LOT) stressed out about teaching social studies this year.

However, now that I'm back into the routine and I've started teaching from a fantastic textbook (something I usually hate to do. I rarely like to use the textbook.), I'm remembering why I love teaching social studies to middle schoolers so much. Middle school is when your eyes are really opened to the world around you and you discover there are interesting cultures out there. And this subject is especially rewarding in Saudi Arabia, where my students are painfully naive.

In my 8th grade classes, we're looking at climate change. The textbook we are using has a fantastic approach to the material: all the chapters are set up like a case study. So we're looking at the effects (if any) of global warming on Antarctica. I love that the book has set up the information so the students reach their own conclusions. I'm not teaching global warming, I'm presenting real data from research stations in Antarctica and letting the kids decide.

We haven't been able to get into all that yet, though. I've only been able to barely introduce the unit to my classes because the girls are so blown away by what they're learning about Antarctica!

"What about the polar bears?"
"There are no polar bears in Antarctica. Only penguins*. Polar bears are only on or near the North Pole."
"WHAAT?!"

I LOVE IT!

*I understand that penguins are the only large land animals in Antarctica and that there are other, albeit a very few, forms of life on the continent as well. I decided to go with baby steps on this one.


The rough part has been trying to help them understand the facts that aren't in metric measurements. For example, there was one blurb we read that said the lowest temperature ever recorded on Earth was -129F and it was in Antarctica. I paused for a minute to let that sink in and I was met with a room full of pubescent faces that said, "...is that cold?"

Just like I have no concept of how hot 49C is, they didn't know that -129F was REALLY FREAKING COLD! So I quickly hopped on Google and found the conversion.

The reactions I got ranged from "WHOA! Is that even possible?!" to "Teacher, how did you do that so quickly?"

I'm broadening intellectual horizons left and right.

My favorite question so far in the unit has to be, "Teacher, can normal people go to Antarctica?" meaning could people who aren't scientific researchers go. Like tourists. If there's anything these girls understand, it's tourism in foreign lands.

I explained that yes, you can go as a tourist. I explained that you can take a cruise to Antarctica and get off the boat to see the penguins and walk on glaciers and all that stuff. (I know because during my senior year in college, my Assessment and Standards professor spent TWO ENTIRE classes showing us her pictures of her Antarctic vacation. Totally worth the $500 per credit hour my parents were paying her. I was miffed. ...but I guess in the end it did come in handy eventually...I digress).

"Like a cruise?" one of my angels asked.

"Uhm, kind of like a cruise, but it's not luxurious or anything."

"Is it like a Disney cruise?"

"...no. No it's not like a Disney cruise or any kind of cruise any of us have taken. You sleep on a boat in a tiny little room and it's a very small bed. There are only 3 meals a day. No midnight buffets or anything like that."

The whole room murmured a collective "Oohhhh." And they began talking amongst themselves about why anyone in the world would want to go on a cruise like that.

After a little while, another student raised her hand and said, "But teacher, why don't they just build a hotel on Antarctica?"

Haha! She wanted to visit Antarctica, darnit! And should couldn't understand why she would have to give up her usual creature comforts to do it!

I explained that a). Antarctica can only be visited 4 months out of the year, so building a hotel there wouldn't be very economical, b). building a hotel would dramatically change the ecosystem of the entire continent, and that would ruin all the research we're about to study.

"No, but just a small hotel! It doesn't have to be a big one."

Like I said. They are PAINFULLY naive!!

But darnit they're cute when they're learning.

Vicariously yours,

Odd oddities

It should come as no surprise that I expected some obvious differences between my American students and my Saudi students. I went from a coeducational classroom to a single gender. I knew there would be wardrobe changes, girly behavior for miles, and an abundance to language barriers. Those expectations have been the case just about every day since we arrived in the Kingdom. I figured otherwise, the students would be the same as everywhere else.

To a degree, that is true. I've shared stories of how my Saudi students have reminded me so much of my American kids. But there are a few oddities that my girls have that are so funny, I have to share. I have no idea if this is the case with all Saudi students, or if mine are just especially quirky, but these little peculiarities are often very entertaining.

They're perfectionists! You'd never believe it based of a cursory glance of the litter strewn about the floor and playgrounds, but when it comes to their work, my students are total fussbudgets! I have my students make a lot of graphic organizers in my class, just quick charts and bubble maps and things like that. I don't like to make the copies for them because I think having the kids actually do it will help them associate the skill with the logic behind why we use graphic organizers in the first place. But heavens! As soon as I said, "Make a T chart," the rulers were out and the anxiety went through the roof!

It's exam season again, and I proctored a geometry exam today. I was given a spiral pad of graph paper for the girls to use, and had to tear each page out individually. Nine times out of ten, as soon as I gave the paper to a girl, she got out her ruler, used it as a tearing edge and took off the little paper tabs that are left behind when you tear a sheet out of the spirals. So funny!

Everything has to be in pen. I think this is the fault of my girls' former teachers. Personally, I avoid using pens unless I have no choice. I make lots of mistakes, and I like the way pencil lead looks on paper anyway. As a teacher, I don't really care what my students write in as long as it's not an obnoxious shade of pink, purple or green. Blue or black ink pens, or pencils of any kind are totally good to go in my class. I have literally answered the question, "Can we write in pencil?" almost everyday since the school year started. One time I actually had a student respond with "You're so kind!!" when I told her she could write in pencil! I guess using graphite isn't common practice with their other teachers.

Everything is subject to white-out. Although I broke this habit with some of my kids by the end of the year, this quirk has slowed down so many lessons and tests this year. Despite being told repeatedly that they can just scratch out their answers and write the correct word, my students insist on whiting out every possible mistake! Even on simple worksheets that are meant to be a quick classwork assignment. And everyone hates the smudge that results from hastily writing over semi-dry correction fluid, so my girls will wait for it to dry completely before correcting their mistake. They don't use a little white out, so they often have to wait for a while.

The nose bleed fake out. Teacher/mom friends: When a child approaches you with a panicked look on her face, cupping her hand over her nose, what do you assume? She's got a nose bleed, right? Not the case in Saudi Arabia (with the exception of one student who actually would get nose bleeds in the winter months). The sniffle doesn't exist here, so if the girls have even a modicum of suspicion about the status of their snot, the hand goes over the nose and they simply cannot function until they have a kleenex.

In my world, if you get a simple little nostril blockage--possibly post sneeze-- you just sniffle a bit, perhaps swipe the back of your hand across the ol' schnoz. You don't interrupt class and give your teacher palpitations by giving the impression that you're oozing blood from your nose!

A tenet of Islam is cleanliness, so I assume this compulsive need to prevent any hint of snot anywhere south of the septum (not even outside the nostrils!) is borne from that.

It's been an interesting year, to say the least, and getting used to the little idiosyncrasies of my Saudi students has certainly added to the challenge.

And to the humor.

Vicariously yours,

Doesn't matter how old the students are, certain things will never change...

Spoiler alert: I'm about to totally geek out with teacher-ness right now. I apologize to my non-teacher readers for the copious use of jargon.

I use small dry erase boards in my classroom. They're a fantastic tool for formative assessment, and as I've previously discussed, they are great catharsis for those kids that need a doodling fix. They definitely present a classroom management challenge, one that I was proud of conquering in the States.

Welp, apparently I've lost my mojo since moving to Saudi Arabia.

Ok, I guess I'll give myself a little credit and admit that I didn't properly train my students on my behavior expectations. The boards weren't introduced to my classroom till the middle of my year when the ship had sailed and I didn't want to take the time to introduce some new procedures. I'll do a better job about that next school year, insh'allah.

ANYWAY

I used the dry erase boards with my 10th grade class today and it was like I had been transported back to my 6th grade classroom in the States.

Phrases that could have been heard in my high school classroom today AND my middle school classroom in the past:

"[Student], you're going to lose your board privileges if you don't start following directions and use the boards properly."

"[Different Student], please only write on the white part of the board. We're not using the back of the boards today."

"I'm over here, guys." --in response to half the class holding up their dry erase boards backwards.

"I'm not interested in your doodles, I want to see your answers."

"[Student], 'smiley face' isn't an answer."

"Well, [student], at least you're honest." --in response to a board with "I have no idea" written as an answer.

I was very nervous about facing the challenge of teaching high school this year, but if today has taught me anything, it's that high schoolers are just middle schoolers with a height advantage.

Vicariously yours,

There once was a lass overseas...

I've started a poetry unit with my eighth-grade class. As a disclaimer, I should tell you that I hate poetry. I'm sure that's going to cause a few of our readers to gasp, but it's true. I can't write it, I'm ambivalent when I read it, and I hate teaching it. I hate teaching it because I have absolutely no good answer when my students ask, "Why do we have to learn this?!"

Just the same, I've started a poetry unit with my eighth-grade class. I'm in Saudi Arabia, where they broadcast an American Idol-esque poetry competition where people across the Arab world could text their votes for the best poet. Poetry is big here. I had a few student squeal in glee when I told them we were diving into the genre.

Unfortunately, I think I may have snuffed out their glimmer of happiness already. We started lightly, or so I thought, with a few poems that had the typical literary devices: personification, alliteration, repetition. I was trying to get them to see why poets use these devices--no, the poem "Silver" by Walter de la Mare isn't about a woman named Moon-- but I could tell they just weren't getting it. Non-literal/abstract thought is not exactly their forte, I'm afraid. And if there's a word to describe English poetry, it's "abstract."

AUGH!

So we moved on to more humorous topics: the limerick.

They were relieved to finally see a poem they understood when I flashed "Hickory Dickory Dock" on the screen. They broke into song and chuckled with delight. See?! English poetry can be fun!

Then I ruined it all by bringing up syllables.

This is one area in which I can empathize with my students' plight. The whole concept of stressed and unstressed syllables is very confusing when 90% of the English you hear is spoken with an Arabic accent. Language learners often do well to get all the letters pronounced correctly, don't throw emphasis in there to confuse the situation!

But the meter is the whole point of a limerick! I had to bring it up! They didn't fully understand, so when I had the girls give it a shot by writing their own limericks, I also gave them a litmus test: "If you can sing your limerick to the tune of 'Hickory Dickory Dock,' you have succeeded."

Here is one of the more humorous ones they came up with:

There once was an Arab named Noaf

Who got some hummus and loaf

She ate it with a fork

Cause there wasn't a spork

So she went off and found a cool stove

Pretty impressive, considering the circumstances, right?! She has the AABBA rhyme scheme. It's pretty close to the correct meter. It's not as humorous as her first draft, but her first draft wasn't quite on point with the meter:

There once was an Arab named Fatooma

Who got some hummus and toaboulah

She ate with a fork

Because she didn't find a spork

So she went off to play with a puma

Here's another one that was oh-so close to being a real limerick. It has missed the target with the meter...and the storyline...but it still makes me laugh.

The long neck of a giraffe

Ate me and cut me in half

I though I would die

So I said my good byes

Then I woke up and laughed

Then there's this one by one of my angels who really labored over this poem and was so hopeful when she handed it over...SO not a limerick, but still very humorous.

There was a bunch of students who had to write a poem

They didn't know how to so the teacher had to show 'em

She started with the types, and then went to examples

They finally got it and as a gift they got apples

The gifts were definitely a surprise to them.

I love it!

I realize to the untrained eye this looks like a blog post about what an incredible failure I am as a teacher. But I look at this sample of poems and see learning.

And that's what makes me cooler than you.

Vicariously yours,

Stickers are like crack

I'm happy to say that a time-honored trick of teachers around the world works even in the Middle East: stickers.

You'd think that because I teach seventh grade, the adhesive accouterments would be a total dud. Oh no, my friends. Stickers are like crack to seventh-graders. All you have to do is start to open your desk drawer and they go crazy.

Such is always the case with my angels. It's a fantastic classroom management tool.

One day, I was giving out stickers during a quick review of the previous day's information. If the student got the question right, she got a sticker. That's literally all there was to it, but you'd think I was handing out rainbows and unicorns with the way they were freaking out. It was hilarious.

I was just picking the stickers at random, not even looking at what I was sticking to each girl. I loved the fact that after getting the question right, the girls would treat their sticker like it was a newfound friend, stroking it and holding it while looking at it with a loving smile on their faces.

One of my more squirrelly girls was engrossed in her sticker, practically talking to it like a proud mother to her child. I watched as she valiantly placed the marking of her success on her chest and looked around to compare her prize to those of her classmates.

She looked at the girl across from her, and her smile drooped.

She quickly looked at the girl diagonally across from her, and the smile disappeared.

She looked at the girl next to her, asking her to move a lock of hair so she can better see the decoration. Her head snapped back in my direction, a look that was a mix of horror and dismay on her face.

"Teacher!!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, student?" I've started answering them that way every time they just call me "teacher" in hopes that they'll see how annoying it is.

"Teacher, everyone's sticker says 'good job!' or 'great!' or 'nice work!'" she said, stabbing her finger at the offending badges, "but mine only says, 'much better.'" Her shoulders dropped and she gave me her best puppy dog eyes with those last two words.

I threw my head back in laughter, which probably only served to confirm her paranoia. Who knew that stickers could cause so much trauma!?

Vicariously yours,

I mean, I'm all for freedom of expression, but Scheiße!

Everyone remembers when they learned words like "Scheiße" and "merde" and started working these words into their vocabulary, feeling like a stealthy cultural renegade, right?

...no? Just me? Good talk.

Anyway, my point is a lot of people think that because it's a cuss word in someone else's language, it doesn't count as a bad word in mine! So if I want to say "shit" in German, no one will know what I'm saying and it's no harm no foul!

(Unless of course someone nearby sprechen sie deutsch.)

This flawed logic seems to be in effect among the students in Saudi Arabia. The only problem is, they're cussing in English...and just about every single student (and all the administrators...and a lot of the teachers) in the building speaks English. There's nothing stealth about this vulgarity, and the girls don't seem to care.

For example, I was sitting in the English cluster during recess the other day and the upper high school girls were participating in a little public speaking contest. This is a VERY big deal for the girls, and they were very nervous. As one girl was reaching for the door knob she let out--crystal clearly and at a conversational tone--"Oh shit."

I mean...YOU'RE IN THE ENGLISH CLUSTER!! Directly in front of teachers! If she had said it under her breath, I could have let it slide, but seriously?!

Someone doesn't get the grade she was expecting on a test. "Oh, dammit!"

A girl is surprised by a tidbit of gossip at lunch. "What the hell!?"

I haven't heard anybody blatantly drop the f-bomb, but I'm sure the day is coming. And I'm sure it'll get dropped just as unapologetically as the rest of the expletives that are already carelessly flung through the air.

I'm positive the girls don't think they are breaking any social rules with this behavior. In fact I had the luxury of getting to over hear a conversation today between a few 11th and 12th graders debating the vulgarity of words like "hell," and "damn" and "shit."

"I mean, they're just words."

Classic argument. Foolproof.

Let's just hope the girls can remember to turn the filters on before any college interviews or important events.

Vicariously yours,

Stupid Irish People

I've been working on spelling conventions with my eighth-grade girls this week, and the other day we were working on the "i before e except after c" rule. After breaking down the rule and its exceptions, one of my girls tried to find yet another loophole.

"Well, what about piece?" she asked.

"ie." I said (she was thinking it is spelled "peice").

After a few seconds, she came back with, "What about field?"

"ie."

"Chief?"

"ie."

"Thief."

"ie."

"NIECE!" she was sure she'd caught me with this one.

"ie."

"Huh, I guess you're right."

So glad I can tell my parents that the 4 years and several thousand dollars they spent on college has paid off!!

After that we discussed the word "leisure" and I gave my estimation that, yes it doesn't follow the rule or its exceptions, but I think that's because it's spelled according to the English pronunciation as opposed to the American.

"But teacher, why don't the Americans just change the way it's spelled?" one of my lovelies asked.

"Because we didn't invent the language, so it's not our change to make," I said.

"You didn't?!" she said, a look of genuine shock on her face.

"...no! The English did."

"Then why do Americans speak English?" she asked. I couldn't help but let a little laugh squeak out with that one. I was thinking a few other people in the room would join in on the laugh, but instead I was faced with 14 expectant students waiting for my answer and wondering what was so funny.

"Wait, ya'll really have no idea why Americans speak English?" I asked.

"Christopher Columbus!" a voice called out proudly.

"He was Italian and sailing on behalf of the Spanish," I said.

"Oh."

"The Boston Tea Party?" another voice ventured.

"eh, closer," I said, holding up two fingers to indicate how close the answer was.

"OH! It's because the potatoes in England all tasted bad, so everyone left!"

That one, by far, was my favorite answer. I doubled over laughing, apologizing and explaining that while the answer was wrong, it was also incredibly funny and cute.

I then gave a very abridged history of my country--Pilgrims, Thanksgiving, colonization, etc. The class gave a collective "OOOohhhhh."

"But, Teacher. I have two questions."

"Lay it on me."

"One: Why do Americans hate the Irish..."

I was stumped already.

"...and two, why do Americans sound different than the British?" That second one made a little more sense. I could at least follow the train of thought on that one.

"Well, I'm not sure why the accents are different. It's probably for the same reason that Egyptians sound different than Saudis. Distance."

They all nodded, satisfied with that answer.

"But why would you think that Americans hate the Irish!? We practically all have some Irish blood in us!" I asked, shrugging my shoulders.

"Because! One time I was in New York and I went in a hat store and I saw a hat that said, 'I hate Irish.'" she said.

....

"What kind of hat store did you stumble into!?" I asked with a chuckle.

"I don't know!"

"OOH! Do you mean it said, 'Fighting Irish'?!" I said, holding up two fists.

"YEAH! That was it!"

Again, I was doubled over in laughter. "No, that's not a declaration! There's a university--Notre Dame--its mascot is called the Fighting Irish. So the shirt was in support of Notre Dame, not in protest of the Irish."

"...oh."

I wonder how many other misconceptions about American culture are out there because of misconstrued college paraphernalia.

Vicariously yours,

That's definitely not a "Yes, of course!" kind of thing!

I got suckered into co-sponsoring the reading club. Actually, I'm always a sucker for a student who comes to the English teachers and begs for a reading club where she can, "read books and write about what we've read." She actually asked to do more reading and writing...IN ENGLISH! Yep, I'll get behind that.

Anyway, today was the first day the reading club met so it was a get-to-know each other kind of day and getting our feet wet.

The highlights of the meeting include:

My co-sponsor: Welcome to the reading club. Just as a warning, if you don't like to read, this is not the club for you.

Student: Wait...we're actually going to READ?!

My co-sponsor and I both looked at her, dumbfounded. Then she finally cracked a smile and said, "I'm joking, I'm joking!!" I am so excited to have a club member with a great sense of humor.

The highlight of the club meeting, though, didn't come until the end. We'd read a short story and were discussing it when another one of the students bust out with this doozy: "I once had a cat with...what's it called? ...Autistic?"

"...your cat was autistic?" I said with a chuckle.

"Yeah! That was it."

"What do you mean your cat was autistic? How do you even prove that a cat has Autism?"

"I don't know!" she said, throwing her hands up. "That's just what the doctor said. He said he put my cat in a room with a bunch of other cats, and my cat didn't like it. He just wanted to be alone. So he must be autistic."

The fun didn't stop there. Somehow the topic of travel came up and someone mentioned her cat's passport.

I kid you not.

"I'm sorry. Did you just say your cat has a passport?!"

"Yes! Of course!"

"This is definitely not an 'of course' kind of thing! Why would your cat 'of course' have a passport!?" I said, perhaps a little too incredulously.

"Because, when I travel to Turkey and I take my cat with me, she has to have a passport!"

How could I be so silly?! Duh! The cat has to have a passport! "What do you mean, you take your cat through immigration and she gets a stamp?"

"Yes!"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Stop it! You're kidding! What, goes on a cat passport!?"

Judging from the faces around the room, the questions were just getting stupider and stupider. "Her picture, her name, her last name, her mother's name, her father's name..."

"I'm sorry, did you just say that there's a picture of your cat on her passport? And her mother and father's names?!"

"Yes!!"

The whole thing was too comical! The mental picture of taking your cat to get her passport photo taken is just hilarious. I still can't believe it's true.

I've asked for physical proof.

Vicariously yours,

it's a conspiracy.

My students love conspiracy theories. They love them. Everything that they talk about is either about the Masons, Illuminati, or some kind of crazy American government plot. This is extended to basically everything that we have studied or not studied this year. Everything from 9/11, the founding of Israel, America in Iraq (pretty much any event in history) to the music industry. There is a theory that Eminem was once a member of the Illuminati, but got out because he thought they were doing evil things and that's why everyone is out to get him. I mean...wow...

Anyway, after a heated conversation about 9/11 today after class, I was left thinking. Why is it that conspiracy theories are so popular? I had a conversation with my incredibly intelligent sister about this and I came to two conclusions: people believe in conspiracy theories because ignorance allows any truth to be possible; people believe in conspiracy theories because they have a vested interest in believing whatever the conspiracy is.

Firstly, ignorance allows any truth to be possible. One of my students today maintained that everyone knows that there were explosions (like charges or something) that caused the World Trade Center towers to fall like they did. This student is not an engineer. I am also not an engineer. I can safely say that I do not know the physics behind what caused the towers to fall the way they did. Now it occurred to me while I was listening to this student that because neither of us really understand how these things work, anything could be possible and true. If we expand this idea to any other conspiracy theory, say, the "faked" moon landings, we discover that there's a lot of variables that prevent you from having an easy idea of how these things happen. I understand why people think that we faked the moon landings...I mean...no one has been there but 14 astronauts. They're really the only ones who have really experienced the conditions on the moon. So how the flag waves in a vacuum or how the lighting on the moon looks really is something that we have to do some crazy mythbusters type investigations to test. Usually people who believe in conspiracy theories are simply thinking based on public information...or youtube videos that have been proven wrong (yes I'm looking at you "loose change"). So ultimately, for my students and for myself, trying to argue about things like this are kind of pointless. I mean, yes, we need to get these things out in the open and discuss them, but if the student or the teacher cannot really intimately describe the mechanics and physics involved in something as complicated as a building collapse...then perhaps it's not a credible point to make in an argument.

Secondly was the point that my sister brought up. People want (or need, in some cases) to believe in said conspiracy. If my students believe, honestly believe, that 9/11 was an American government/Illuminati/Masonic plot then it lets Islam off the hook. They become the religion that is getting beaten up on; the victim. I know, and I like to think that most Americans know, that it was a group of very disturbed individuals that committed the atrocities of 9/11 in the name of Islam. Just like all Christians do not condone the bombing of abortion clinics or violent action against homosexuals, most Muslims abhor the attacks of 9/11. I had a conversation today with one of my colleagues about the perceptions that westerners and Arabs have of one another. It's built on Fox News and terrorism for most Americans, and American TV and the invasion of Iraq and US support of Israel for most Arabs. What this leads to is a desire to shut out the west and keep them at a distance, while Americans are both afraid of and intrigued by Arabs. Getting back to my point, sometimes people believe in a conspiracy because they want it to be true, and not investigating further is their way of allowing ignorance so that it can be (see how I tied it back to the other idea? You're welcome.)

I'm sure I'm gonna get some comments on this, but it's something that I have really been thinking about and talking about a lot with my students. Our understanding of each other is very limited, and even when we seem to get close, we realize how different we are.

Vicariously yours,

English games are hard!

I like to hang out with my students. I've said it many times before: I enjoy teaching middle school and my students crack me up. One such case was a round of speed Scrabble with my seventh graders the other day.

Speed Scrabble (also called Bananagrams) it meant to be a high speed game where players create their own personal scrabble boards in front of them. ...sorta. There's more to it, but all you need to know for this story's purposes is that players have to know how to spell a wide variety of English words. It's a good game for language learners because they can set their own pace, and it can help them build spelling skills.

I explained the rules and passed out the games (I have a class set) and the girls immediately dove in. If there's one thing I will say for Arab students, it's that they are VERY competitive--even if they don't really understand how the game works.

As I was circling the room, helping kids out, answering questions, explaining how to spell some words, and laughing at this hilarity they were coming up with.

I caught sight of these gems:

• It was early in the game, so a girl just had three words on her board: fire, inside, her.
• One girl had the word "mol." When I asked what they word meant she said, "You know! 'mol.' Where you go shopping."
• One girl had the word breast on her board. "Breast?!" I said. "Yeah, like chicken breast." Whatever you say, kid.

My favorite interaction of the day, however, was when one girl needed to make a word that ended in a "c." (The whole concept of crossing words on one letter was a bit of a stretch for them to understand, so they got stuck on the idea that "if I need to use the letter, the word has to either begin or end with the letter--no two ways about it.")

"Teacher, what is a word that ends in 'c?'" she asked, tapping a Scrabble tile on the desk in thought.

"COCK!" one of her classmates cried out triumphantly. Around the table, heads nodded as if to say, "Oh yeah! Cock! Why didn't I think of that!"

"um, well, that word ends with the 'c' sound, but it's actually spelled with a 'ck.'"

"Oh."

Hilarious.

Vicariously yours,

Climate Change, Shmlimate Change

Students are the same all around the world. No matter how dedicated they are, every one wants an unexpected day off now and then. Saudi students seem to have perfected the art of finding a reason not to do work.

Lately, the weather has been the scapegoat. While North America is getting battered by snowstorm after snowstorm, the Middle East gets rain. We've had a total of 3--count 'em--THREE days of rain over the past couple weeks. This is a very exciting reality for the students, and on the first day of straight downpour, the girls took it as a cue to go out dancing in the rain Gene Kelly style. This, of course, resulted in girls with sore throats and a heavy case of the chills asking for an extra free period so they could cope with their wet skirts and frizzy hair.

"But teacher, we're so cold! We can't concentrate in class!"

"Wah. You should have thought of that before you spent your entire recess puddle jumping and rolling around in the rain."

On the second go-round with the weather, we were preparing for exams. The veteran teachers were telling me not to expect to have first period because so many students would be late. Even though we were expecting it, a few of the teachers still took a firm stance when the girls came crawling into the cluster asking for extra time to prepare for their tests.

"But teacher, it was raining today," one of them pleaded with a colleague. I, of course, was eavesdropping.

"Yes, and it rains every year around this time. You're a teenager, rain is not a new thing."

"But teacher, please! It's not our fault. Our drivers, they don't know how to drive in weather like this. They don't know what to do about the rain."

"Really? Has global warming changed things in Indonesia that much? Doesn't India still get a monsoon season? Didn't the Philippines get a lot more rain over the past 10 years than Saudi Arabia? How long has your family employed this poor driver that he's forgotten what his home country is like?!"

I loved it! The drivers are always to blame for half the girls' problems, and for once we were able to fire back with a response the girls couldn't refute.

Vicariously yours,

Stuff Arabs Like #6: Thick Rim Glasses

You read the title correctly, folks. "Geek Chic" has gripped the middle east and my middle school and high school students can't get enough!

Mind you: My middle school students at home had been bitten by the nerd bug, but they weren't rockin' Dior's versions of this fad. No, my kids at home just poked the lenses out of the glasses you get for 3D movies at the cinema. But here, if it's not Chanel, Dior or Dulce and Gabana, there's no need to wear it, and that goes for their glasses too!

Another difference between Geek Chic here as compared with home is that the fashionable nerds at home wear the Urkel look-alikes because it's ironic and hipster. I get the feeling that the kids here rock the Buddy Hollys because it's popular in the States.

What I'm not sure the kids here realize is that a lot of the Geeky Chic people at home are just wearing the frames. They don't actually need the glasses, they just need to LOOK like they need the glasses. The kids here legitimately have vision problems ("It's genetic. Everything here is genetic" as my principal once put it with a hearty eye-roll). I guess you can't blame them for wanting to fit in.

Isn't it ironic that looking like Poindexter will save you from being made fun of. Ah, how things have changed!

Vicariously yours,

Learning is fun!

This year, I'm teaching 3 different grade levels. I've taught different ability levels before, but never 3 completely different curricula at the same time. It's proved to be a considerable challenge. Despite the anxiety and stress it has caused me, I still get nearly daily reminders of why I am a teacher: hilarious student moments.

My girls are really funny, actually. Most of the time they're funny without meaning to be, but they provide me with lots of chuckles nonetheless. Here are a few examples.

Me: ...and our last vocabulary word is "scrutiny." Does anybody have any guesses as to what this word might mean?

Student: Isn't that what pirates do?

Me: ...no. No, that's "muntiny," which is a little different than "scrutiny."

Me: Look at the way "odious" is spelled. It's got a random "u," so don't forget it during the spelling portion of the test.

Student: Teacher, isn't odious how Mexican people say goodbye?

Me: ....

Student: My doctor told me that I keep breaking my hand because I don't drink enough milk.

Me: So have you increased your milk intake?

Student: Ew, no. I like Coke.

Student: Miss? Do you know anything about Idaho? [keep in mind that this question was asked in the middle of a lesson about prepositions...obviously an enthralling lesson about prepositions.]

Me: ...the state?

Student: I don't know. Is it a state?

Me: [insert a brief description of the highlights of Idaho...so insert a brief description of potatoes here]

Student: Oh. I think that Idaho is not a center for fashion and culture.

Me: That would be a correct assessment.

Student: Miss? Obama is the first African American President, right?

Me: Yes.

Student: So who was the first woman President?

Me: ooooh, too soon.

Student: Teacher, another meaning for diminish is to disappear, right?

Me: No, that's "vanish."

Second student: Oooh! I told you!

Me: ...So in this sentence, "hat" is the direct object.

Student: No, teacher, I don't think that is right.

Me: ...uh..yeah. It is.

Student: No. I don't think it is.

Me: ....

Trying and stubborn as they may be, I really do enjoy my students. If I hadn't been faced with the challenge of teaching so many grade levels at one time, I would not have gotten the chance to have funny moments like these.

Vicariously yours,

Let's Walk

Last night was possibly one of the most fun nights I've had since arriving in Saudi Arabia. And I spent it with high schoolers. This is either a sign that I have an unhealthy need to be 18 again, or proof that the students at my school are such cool, interesting creatures and I love hanging out with them. If nothing else, last night proved that teenagers are the same all around the world.

Our hostesses were three 12th-grade girls who are in my colleague's Global Issues class. They are truly remarkable young women with amazing aspirations and insight. Anyway, they took us to this "resort" that is just down the coast from where the Mister and I live. I think at home we would probably call it a country club, because this resort just basically consists of villas and suites that people can buy or rent, there are a few restaurants, a spa, a marina. What makes it so much like a country club is in order to get on to the property, you either have to own a villa, or know a member and be on their frequent visitors list. There is a screening process to become a member and, as one of our hostesses says, "Only fun people are allowed here. The very conservative are not allowed."

It's a Saudi pleasure island!

Abayas and hijab are optional. Teenagers are allowed to mix, within reason. There are jet skis for rent, a women-only beach where the ladies can wear whatever swim wear they want, a water park, and a work-out facility that overlooks the water. It really was an amazing place that felt like a whole different country, but it was right down the road!

So when we arrived, the girls showed us around the center of the resort where all the teenagers hang out. It's this area next to the marina with an ice cream shop, a '50s diner, and a coffee shop.

A "Friends" themed coffee shop. Unfortunately, the only thing Friends-y about it was the fact that it served coffee, and it played episodes on a big flat-panel TV behind the pastries. I was really hoping it would be a replica of the Central Perk, but no luck.

Anyway, the thing to do when one goes to this resort is to walk--promenade, really. The teenagers literally just do laps around this little shopping area while their parents get a table at the patio of one of the restaurants. My colleague and I laughed when the girls told us about this custom, but then I realized that this is just a different version of what teenagers do at home. Instead of a mall, they have this little...area where they can strut their stuff. And because it's in this resort, they can also show off their outfits and cute accessories.

They're technically still not allowed to mingle freely. The boys aren't allowed to stop and flirt with the girls, but they can stop and talk to their cousins or siblings.

So we sat and had dinner on the patio like old folks and then one of the girls asked if we wanted to take a lap. "You bet we do!" was our response.

I have never felt so cool in my life! This is definitely one difference between American teens and Saudi teens. It was so cool and not horrifyingly embarrassing for these girls to be seen with their teachers on a Thursday night. We of course ran in to a lot of my students, and they were thrilled to see me!

At one point, we rounded the corner and a beautiful young lady with sandy brown curly hair exclaimed, "Oh my God! HI! What are you doing here?!" as she kissed my cheeks and hugged me lightly. "Hi! So funny to see you here! How are you?" I responded congenially, and that was it. We were on our way. After she was out of earshot, I admitted to my company that I had no idea who that child was! She wasn't one of my students, and I don't think I've ever seen her in the halls! But she certainly knew me!

Anyway, after we did our lap, we went --wait for it--BOWLING!

This was Sandra's bowling name. The other names were "TheHijabHottie," "KSAKiller," and "Lois Lane."

They only have bowling alleys on the compounds or at resorts like this, so it's an actual treat, not an ironically hipster thing to pretend to enjoy like at home. It was such a small bowling alley, only about 6 lanes, and we were the only people there without children of our own accompanying us, but we had so much fun!

Sandra, my colleague, had the idea to change the "rules" each time we went up to bowl.

One time we had to sit on the floor and send the ball down the lane. Isn't it funny to see someone in the abaya bowling? Such a fun combination of East and West.

Another time we had to stand backwards and launch the ball.

It was a lot of fun and certainly spiced up a game that these girls probably haven't played since they were in middle school.

After taking another lap or two, and stopping for tea at Friends, we called it a night. We were told that our being sighted at the resort would be all the girls would talk about on Saturday. Too bad we won't be there to bask in the glory of our fame.

Vicariously yours,

They really do impress me every now and then.

**WARNING: in order to fully understand this entry, you should be familiar with the short story "There Will Come Soft Rains" by Ray Bradbury. I've linked to a pdf of the story below.**

Today's entry was brought to you buy: The Author Ray. Thanks, Ray Bradbury!

Welp, we finished reading "There Will Come Soft Rains" today in my 7th grade class. It really is a very tough piece for these girls to try to fully understand because their grasp of the figurative aspect of the English language is so underdeveloped. They were troopers and trudged through the tough vocabulary and astonishing imagery for which they had no/limited prior knowledge.

I read the story aloud to the class in an effort to help them comprehend through the tone of the story if nothing else. I did the typical teacher thing and stopped and did think-alouds at the appropriate places. I stopped at the line "One, two, three, four, five voices died" (it's on page 4, about a quarter of the way down the page on the pdf I linked above) and thought aloud, "Five voices died. We heard about 5 people or animals that lived in this house. I wonder if Bradbury counted out these 5 voices so his readers would infer something here."

My teacher friends and fellow literacy nerds will appreciate the light bulbs I saw going off around the room. I watched as one, two, then three faces went from puzzled to enlightened in the course of 5-7 seconds.

"Oooh! I get it!" one of lovelies exclaimed in a hushed and amazed tone.

"What? I don't get it? Tell me," her classmate said, still confused, from across the table.

And then, in one of the most goosebump-inducing moments I've had as a teacher, my darling student explained to her classmate what I hope was Ray Bradbury's intention when he wrote that line (Ray, if you're reading and my class and I have totally misinterpreted your work, please accept our apologies): "There were 4 humans and a dog living in that house, but when the bomb went off, the humans died, and then the dog died because the humans weren't around to keep feeding him. But the house kept 'living' because it hadn't been blown up. So then the house catches on fire, and it's trying to save itself, but it can't. So when the house 'died' it's like the humans finally died too."

I. could. have. cried. I was sooo proud that she was able to make that massive connection, and then to explain it to a classmate! I'm seriously choking up now as I relive the moment sitting at my computer in my office hours later.

For those readers who are not teachers or don't get what I'm talking about, forgive me for this geeked-out blog entry. I just thought I should share that sometimes learning actually does occur in my classroom, and this is one example.

Vicariously yours,

Um.....no.

In my seventh-grade class, we're about to start reading Ray Bradbury's "There Will Come Soft Rains." This short story was written in 1950 during the Cold War and is Bradbury's commentary on how he thought nuclear proliferation would affect the world. It's actually a pretty heavy composition for 7th graders, especially 7th graders as naive as my girls. Seriously.

One of them today was wholly convinced that Manhattan was her favorite state in the USA. Given the fact that they are so totally clueless in regards to geography, you can imagine how rusty their history is! I knew I had to do some heavy introducing of the time period in which this story was written in order for it to make any sense to the girls.

So I put together a PowerPoint. About the Cold War. And nuclear weapons and their effects. It was a really jovial task. I tried to make it as attainable as possible without getting into too many scary details.

Their. minds. were. blown. I think the past two days were the first they'd ever even heard about nuclear weapons, Russia, radiation, and atoms. It was so difficult to resist the impulse to turn my class into a history class for a few weeks so they could fully understand everything we were talking about. But I pressed through and explained Hiroshima, Nagasaki, radiation sickness, "Duck and Cover," and other such things that were commonly on the minds of people around the world during the Cold War.

I showed the girls pictures of Hiroshima after the bomb was dropped and explained the things that are alluded to in "There Will Come Soft Rains": the flash, the shock wave, and the fires that can result from a atomic bomb explosion. At one point, I put a picture of a Hiroshima survivor on the screen and we talked about the radiation burns that were all over his arms and torso.

Here's where the title of this entry comes into play, get ready.

One of my girls cocked her head to one side, kind of furrowed her brows, and slowly raised her hand to ask a question. It was clear she had a doozy of a query brewing in that noggin.

"Teacher, the shock wave--the blast--is that what makes his eyes...like..." she trailed off as she pulled the outer corners of her eyes to make them look the same as the bomb survivor's hooded peepers.

I was at once struck by the potentially racist comment this child was making, then dumbfounded at the realization that I was pretty sure she was seriously asking the question. I think she legitimately thought the blast from the nuclear bomb was so strong that it had made the eyes of the people of Japan go slanted.

"Um....no. No, the man in the picture is Japanese. Japanese people are Asian and that's a physical attribute of Asians. They are born with slanted eyes." It was the best answer I could come up with without getting into the details of basic genetics.

"But we are Asian and our eyes don't look like that," another one of my darlings piped up.

Touche, my dear. Touche. I didn't have much of an answer to that one.

Vicariously yours,

My apologies to Madam Rau.

Like every other American high school graduate, I was required to take a language in order to get my diploma. I enjoy the eclair and Beauty and the Beast was a personal favorite as a kid, so I decided to take French as my language of choice in high school.

I really did enjoy the classes. Because French has the same roots as English, it helped me understand my own language a lot better. I felt very exotic repeating phrases such as, "Where is the restroom?" and "Are you my driver?" But I was honest with myself. I was never going to use the language outside of the 4 required semesters. I just needed these classes to graduate, so I just did the bare minimum. Surely the teacher understood that.

I would just like to go on record and publicly apologize to my high school French teacher for being such a punk. Madam Rau, you were a great teacher, and I sorely regret not applying myself to my studies more when I had the chance. But most of all, I apologize for making you feel like you were completely wasting your time and that your choice of career was a foolish one. Because that's certainly how I feel sometimes when I work with some of my students.

For example: Amber says, "Class, we're going to work on these vocabulary words this week and you'll have a test on them on Wednesday."

The students respond, "Whaat!? Oh no, teacher! Please! Teacher please we have a math test that day. We need to study for the math test. Please teacher please! We have so much to do!"

Amber hears, "Look, lady, I'm only in this class because I have to be! I'm not actually interested in learning this language. Just be a good girl and give me the A I need and I won't bother you with completed assignments and all that mess."

Amber says, "It'll be easy. I've spent hours creating resources like games and research-based manipulatives that'll help you retain the information without having to work that much at home! Come on! It'll be fun."

The students respond, "But teacher we never use the workbooks. Why don't you do like our other teachers and just give us book assignments and let us work alone in class?" **This was literally a complaint I had from a student**

Amber hears, "Woman, you've got to get it straight. We just want to get the grade, finish the work, and then just sit and talk. In Arabic. So just put your little games and kinesthetic activities away and start boring us to death!"

It's so frustrating because I can kind of sympathize with the kids, but I also know how much I regret not really mastering another language! Granted, these girls already speak English leaps and bounds better than I ever spoke French, but golly does it ever make me feel like I'm toiling in vain trying to conquer these girls' literacy issues!

So students, if any of you are listening, at least pretend to be interested. Study for the tests. Don't complain when your language teacher puts in a little effort in the classroom. Because every time you complain, a little piece of her soul dies.

Vicariously yours,

Parent/teacher conferences in Arabia: What they don't teach you in college

I distinctly remember having a few college class sessions about how to conduct a parent/teacher conference and I've applied those lessons in my classroom each time PTC day has rolled around. Professors told me to 1. lead with something positive, even if it's hard to think of 2. have an anecdote or two about the student, it makes the parents feel like you pay attention to their student 3. break the negative news and immediately follow up with how you, the student, and the parents can fix it 4. don't let the parents commandeer the conference with rants and/or verbal threats. Stay cool.

I was running these guidelines through my head as the first of my mothers walked through my classroom door (since we're an Islamic school, the dads can't come to the conferences for their daughters, only the mothers). I went into my schpeal, saying good things, breaking the bad news (which really isn't all that bad), yadda yadda yadda, and I could tell that my first mom had kinda glazed over and was looking at me like, "Why are you still talking?"

I quickly figured out that they just wanted to hear the first bit: "Your daughter is a pleasure to have in my class." Some asked if there were areas for her to improve and I got the typical "That'll change" with an "insh'allah" added at the end. After that they were ready to go. Khalass. Why does this white lady keep telling me stories about my kid? I gots other places to go!

There were a few exceptions, and of course a few awkward moments.

A mother and her two daughters sat down in front of me and I commented, "You all look so much alike, it's like I'm talking to three copies of the same woman!" and the mother laughed and said, "Well, my husband looks a lot like me, so...." (for those who don't know why that's funny/awkward: Arabs marry their cousins, and marrying your first cousin is not as rare as some would like to think. So the gene pools are pretty shallow over here)

A few weeks ago I had a phone conversation with a heavily accented mother who proudly proclaimed "I am not like the other Saudi mothers. I want my daughter to have homework. More homework! Homework just for my daughter, no one else!" She was very passionate about putting her daughter to work...which was ironic because her daughter rarely had homework ready on time.

Anyway, I got to meet that mother face to face, and I found that her message had not changed. This time I was prepared for it when she passionately declared, "I want you to boosh my daughter. Boosh her and boosh her. She needs a boosh every day."

When I first heard this "boosh" word during my phone conversation with this mom, I was slightly taken aback. I wasn't even sure that her request was legal in this country! It took me a few minutes to realize she was saying "Push her" as in "challenge her." There is no "P" sound in Arabic, so Arabs substitute the closest thing they have: the b.

This time, I was more than a little tempted to reply, "I'll be sure to boosh her every day."

All in all, I was very happy to meet the mothers of my girls. I was greatly encouraged by how many of them were happy to have me here and teaching their daughters. I hope I live up to their expectations before this school year is over.

Vicariously yours,