This is a personal record for me. It's the first time I have posted 3 straight weeks in a row and started keeping up with something like this. So, in light of that, and how good the story is this time, give yourself a few minutes to read this one. I'm a storyteller, as I said before, and the best stories are the ones that give those little details that spice it up.
As some of you know, I was planning on going to Shenyang this weekend. My roommate and I had gone to the police station and filed our passports and then came back to the school where I assumed my passport was with the lady who went with us. I got up Friday morning, ready for my trip, only to find out a little later that the police still had my passport and there was no way to get it back in time for the trip. I was crushed, but refused to give up. After exploring some options, I was told some people would look into it and I began my day of teaching. As I walked down to class, I started thinking in my head "Father, I can't do this without You. I have no control over whether or not I can go now. I promise to make my focus the students today and teach them to the best of my ability. I just ask that You allow one of the alternative options to work out."
True to my word, I gave the kids every bit of myself that I could, all the while continuing to have my thoughts going in the back of my head "Father, please work this out." Halfway through the day, I was called into the office by the secretary and the lady who had taken us down to the police station originally. They informed me that they had asked for a rush job on my passport, but had no idea whether or not I would be able to get it in time. If I didn't have my passport in my hand and out the door by 3 p.m., and they said this was almost impossible, I would not be going on the trip.
My mind was blown. Father had taken all of the options and said "Chris, you don't give me enough credit; I will give you the possibility of having the passport you need. Do you trust me?" I then had to teach math before it was time to go. I once again taught math the best I could, while in the back of my mind asking Father over and over "Please, let my passport be done by 3 so I can go on this trip this weekend." The time came to go and it was myself and the lady going with me to the police station again. It was an extremely awkward drive. She was frustrated at me for not telling her sooner. I felt awful because I found out she dropped everything just to try and get me on this flight in time. And each time I apologized and tried to express my sincerest sorrow, she simply said that she only wanted to do what she could to have everything turn out ok. Her frustration was from me not telling her sooner and making it easier for her.
As we were getting close to the station, I remembered how many times I have heard that we need to be thinking specifically. I started thinking "Father, when we get to the station, I know I need the passport and I know it shouldn't be ready by 3, but please let it be ready within the first 15 minutes of us walking into the room. If it is not in Your will, please allow it to be done by 3." We walked in the police room and I intentionally looked at the clock. It was 2:12. I thought "Ok, Dad, 2:27. Let's do it." I sat down and less than 5 minutes later I had my passport in hand, shaking the hands and thanking those who rushed it, and getting into the car for a 3 hour drive. The lady assured me we could make it in the 3 hours and that Charis and Melissa, the two fellow teachers going with me, would be waiting there for me.
At this point, I'm just blown away, almost to the point of crying. How could I not have trusted Father to do this for me? As we start the drive to the airport, I silently praise Him over and over again, and beg Him to allow us to get there by 6 p.m., when I absolutely had to be there to check in. Ready for the kicker? I made it in 2 hours and 15 minutes, and beat Charis and Melissa, who were on the train that should have only taken 45 minutes. I got there so early, I even had time to sit down for a drink and a time of praise to my Father before they got there.
All this to say, we underestimate the power of our conversations with Father so often, and yet He continues to blow our minds. This is one more example of the power of our thoughts. I have had one of the best weekends since coming to China, and it should have never happened in the first place.
These are my stories...
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Friday, August 20, 2010
School of Hard Knocks
Hey again everyone. As this week went by, and I thought about what I wanted to write next, the one that weighed on me the most was my school. I absolutely love the school I am working at now. I've never felt more content with not only my fellow staff, but the administration as well. I'm in an environment where I am given space to teach in my style, but am also pushed to become a better teacher with each day. In just the week and a half that I have been teaching, there have been a few similarities I have noticed and, obviously, many differences I see, and that's where my mind is going tonight.
I'll start with the similarities because it is much easier to make comparisons than to find differences. This year is the first year of teaching all over. I can feel the weight of having to relearn a system all over again, I feel the pressure to have lesson plans written up because I have new curriculum I haven't worked with before, and I feel the tiredness or pushing myself each day in an environment I am not use to in the slightest. A second similarity is the desire needed each day. The days I go in with my motivation not at 100%, I feel like the kids do not get the best of me but, just like last year, when I bring all of me to the table, I feel like my students are walking away changed from what they have learned that day. Finally, the difficulty of teaching content I wasn't trained in is just as difficult here as it was in the States. Just because I have a year of teaching it, that doesn't mean I am trained well enough to know what I'm doing. I always have to be pushing myself to be better and better in those subjects I struggle in.
Now for the differences. The main one is, obviously, the language barrier. With 8 out of the 12 students in my class being Korean, it makes things tricky. I find myself constantly explaining things multiple times, often in much simpler language than it is meant to be presented in. Combine that with the fact that 8 of my 12 students are ELL (English Language Learner) students who struggle heavily in both reading and understanding English, and it makes communication difficult.
A second difference is having a TA (Teacher's Assistant). Some of you talked with me about it before and can attest to me saying how awesome it would be having someone doing my grading and paperwork while I plan lessons and teach. I am quickly finding out that this is one of the most difficult parts about my job this year. I am the type of person that likes to control what happens in my classroom. Plus, last year, I had to learn how to be self-sufficient in getting my work done and so I learned how to do everything myself. Now, I have someone, that the school is paying, doing it for me and is eager to do her best. It's been hard to give up some control to her, but she is going to be a huge blessing as time goes on.
The final big difference for me is the interaction of the staff. Last year, almost all of my staff were people that were older with kids (sometimes grandkids) and families to take care of. I didn't feel like I fit in too well and, as a result, only connected so much with them. They were great, and I learned so much from them, but only one of the teachers on staff spent considerable time with me, and I spend time with her and her husband regardless of her working with me. I have a staff that wants to do dinner together almost every night, that looks for opportunities to spend time socializing, playing games, or just chilling out. It's been a wonderful experience, and one I am looking forward to for awhile to come.
Even with many of these things seeming like they could be negative, I have never felt more sure that I am where I'm supposed to be. The Father has placed me here for a reason, and He continues to remind me of it each day. This school has been the biggest confirmation in my mind and, even if I struggle to talk to them, I am making the connections with my students, the staff, and everyone I interact with. I can't wait to see what the next two years hold...
These are my stories...
Chris
I'll start with the similarities because it is much easier to make comparisons than to find differences. This year is the first year of teaching all over. I can feel the weight of having to relearn a system all over again, I feel the pressure to have lesson plans written up because I have new curriculum I haven't worked with before, and I feel the tiredness or pushing myself each day in an environment I am not use to in the slightest. A second similarity is the desire needed each day. The days I go in with my motivation not at 100%, I feel like the kids do not get the best of me but, just like last year, when I bring all of me to the table, I feel like my students are walking away changed from what they have learned that day. Finally, the difficulty of teaching content I wasn't trained in is just as difficult here as it was in the States. Just because I have a year of teaching it, that doesn't mean I am trained well enough to know what I'm doing. I always have to be pushing myself to be better and better in those subjects I struggle in.
Now for the differences. The main one is, obviously, the language barrier. With 8 out of the 12 students in my class being Korean, it makes things tricky. I find myself constantly explaining things multiple times, often in much simpler language than it is meant to be presented in. Combine that with the fact that 8 of my 12 students are ELL (English Language Learner) students who struggle heavily in both reading and understanding English, and it makes communication difficult.
A second difference is having a TA (Teacher's Assistant). Some of you talked with me about it before and can attest to me saying how awesome it would be having someone doing my grading and paperwork while I plan lessons and teach. I am quickly finding out that this is one of the most difficult parts about my job this year. I am the type of person that likes to control what happens in my classroom. Plus, last year, I had to learn how to be self-sufficient in getting my work done and so I learned how to do everything myself. Now, I have someone, that the school is paying, doing it for me and is eager to do her best. It's been hard to give up some control to her, but she is going to be a huge blessing as time goes on.
The final big difference for me is the interaction of the staff. Last year, almost all of my staff were people that were older with kids (sometimes grandkids) and families to take care of. I didn't feel like I fit in too well and, as a result, only connected so much with them. They were great, and I learned so much from them, but only one of the teachers on staff spent considerable time with me, and I spend time with her and her husband regardless of her working with me. I have a staff that wants to do dinner together almost every night, that looks for opportunities to spend time socializing, playing games, or just chilling out. It's been a wonderful experience, and one I am looking forward to for awhile to come.
Even with many of these things seeming like they could be negative, I have never felt more sure that I am where I'm supposed to be. The Father has placed me here for a reason, and He continues to remind me of it each day. This school has been the biggest confirmation in my mind and, even if I struggle to talk to them, I am making the connections with my students, the staff, and everyone I interact with. I can't wait to see what the next two years hold...
These are my stories...
Chris
Friday, August 13, 2010
Thoughts of a Storyteller
I am not a blogger. Anyone who knows me will tell you that. But I do consider myself somewhat of a storyteller. And anyone who knows me will definitely agree with that. Most times, I have a story for almost every situation or group of people. My mind tends to remember a lot of details that get lost in the translation. So here's to hoping this will be more of a collection of stories in this new chapter of my life.
Already, in my first three weeks here in Wuxi, I have experienced so much and could write on any number of things, but there's one thing that has really jumped out this past week: the Market. I have been to the Market 3 times this week for dinner or just passing through on my way home and it fascinates me. First of all, the food is incredibly affordable (an entire dinner for less than a dollar!). The fruit is fresh, and the bread is baked right there on the spot. The boutsa, rolls filled with different things, are warm and filling. The chicken is friend with a very different seasoning that seems like it should be spicy, but has a sweet flavor as well.
But it's not just the tastes, because all 5 senses are active in the market. The smells are interesting. You can occasionally smell the sun soaked-waste in the canal, but when you enter the Market, it is lost in the smells there. The smell of food, the smell of fragrances, the smells of certain stores; it's wonderful to experience. The sights are very intriguing! I will see one booth where they will take food off of a pan and cook it in a skillet right in front of you, one booth has 15 bowls of ingredients you choose to have mixed for a salad, and one booth makes rolls with either meat, noodles, or veggies cooked inside of them.
As far as touching goes, I'm out of my bubble here. In America, everything has to meet up to certain cleanliness standards but, in the Market, it's all about efficiency in delivering the product. That's not to say my food is dirty, but their stands are right out on the dirt road, and they make sure that the food is the best they can make. That is their number one concern.Finally, there's the sounds. I am slowly picking up words as I notice what people are indicating, or as I am interacting with the Chinese, but it's a very frustrating process. Other than the language, there's the constant sizzling of food being cooked, or the whoosh of a fresh batch of boutsa (see the description of rolls above) being whisked out onto the table.
There's no way to call the Market anything less than an experience. And it's just one of a hundred experiences I have already been through in the past 3 weeks.
These are my stories...
Already, in my first three weeks here in Wuxi, I have experienced so much and could write on any number of things, but there's one thing that has really jumped out this past week: the Market. I have been to the Market 3 times this week for dinner or just passing through on my way home and it fascinates me. First of all, the food is incredibly affordable (an entire dinner for less than a dollar!). The fruit is fresh, and the bread is baked right there on the spot. The boutsa, rolls filled with different things, are warm and filling. The chicken is friend with a very different seasoning that seems like it should be spicy, but has a sweet flavor as well.
But it's not just the tastes, because all 5 senses are active in the market. The smells are interesting. You can occasionally smell the sun soaked-waste in the canal, but when you enter the Market, it is lost in the smells there. The smell of food, the smell of fragrances, the smells of certain stores; it's wonderful to experience. The sights are very intriguing! I will see one booth where they will take food off of a pan and cook it in a skillet right in front of you, one booth has 15 bowls of ingredients you choose to have mixed for a salad, and one booth makes rolls with either meat, noodles, or veggies cooked inside of them.
As far as touching goes, I'm out of my bubble here. In America, everything has to meet up to certain cleanliness standards but, in the Market, it's all about efficiency in delivering the product. That's not to say my food is dirty, but their stands are right out on the dirt road, and they make sure that the food is the best they can make. That is their number one concern.Finally, there's the sounds. I am slowly picking up words as I notice what people are indicating, or as I am interacting with the Chinese, but it's a very frustrating process. Other than the language, there's the constant sizzling of food being cooked, or the whoosh of a fresh batch of boutsa (see the description of rolls above) being whisked out onto the table.
There's no way to call the Market anything less than an experience. And it's just one of a hundred experiences I have already been through in the past 3 weeks.
These are my stories...
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