K-Town Fun

Wedding - Title Page

2007-08-02T15:55:00.000+04:30

Every wedding in these parts should feature a camel, right?

New Blog

2007-07-31T11:31:00.000+04:30

July is when I, personally, change years.

This will be the last post on this blog. The new one already has it's first posting, http://year3inktown.blogspot.com/

If you don't get an e-mail from me soon, it is because your e-mail address is not in my files. Please update me.

There is a special myspace site dedicated to the wedding:

http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=220356659

About 80 Pics are posted there. Only a few repeats from here. Having troubles posting the videos.

Wedding Pix

2007-07-30T17:09:00.000+04:30

Behind us are my best man Otobeck, and his wife Gulnur, also recently married.
They didn't give us a chance to eat. I did, anyway.
Dancing (here with best man) is all about the hands.

Wedding Dance

2007-07-29T20:38:00.000+04:30

Local dancing involves more hand motions than anything else. Dance is not a sensual thing. Sister and sister in law in foreground, nephews to the right, Aunt in background.

2007-07-29T17:16:00.000+04:30

In the park we took some photos
where there were trees in the background
and flowers could be found.

In the park

2007-07-29T12:39:00.000+04:30

L to R. Otobeck (Uzbeki) Terry (Scot/Irish American) Hamroz, Tanya (Russian). Many believed that Tany is my sister in from the USA. She lives in Dushanbe.

A Wedding Tradition

2007-07-29T11:33:00.000+04:30

The bride gets prepared... And meets the groom outside her apartment...

Together they go to her father's house....

To receive his blessing.

The Man

2007-07-04T10:58:00.000+04:30

Bazaar III Jahongir Takes on the World

2007-07-03T17:44:00.000+04:30

Standing at the airport in a small Tajiki city you need language tutoring to pronounce, waiting to board the next desert-hopper jet that used a binocular-based navigation system, I was contemplating how boring a blog entry it would make to recount all our unusual trials and tribulations in making our marriage happen. Getting governmental permission was one thing – we are now partially-married in several countries. Sum total of “unreceipted tips” to government officials: $0.00. We navigate in and between countries that are “at war” officially and those that try to hide it; where we live – there is an American backed government, where we marry – layer upon layer of Soviet style beauracracy; Islam is everywhere and in between; we are openly Christian. Central Asian paper pushers make the Latinos look honest, efficient and conscientious by comparison. Buying each appliance and each piece of furniture is an adventure in international, intercultural and intertribal relations (gotta love those Pashtuns on Electric Street). We half-readied a house for the most diverse set of houseguests imaginable (another story for another day).
The potential for writing about all those close calls with death and eternal singleness, about divine appointments and angelic rescues was obvious. But all of those heart wrenching tales (with my heart the one wrenching) would come across as tripe because that kind of stuff embarrasses participating angels, who would rather do their work anonymously, and draws yawns from those believers who struggle to half believe it, anyway. So the morning had started with mundane trials - we had arrived late at the airport, having been confused by the half-hour time difference (don’t ask). I had brought enough cash for our entire wedding and honeymoon (not much of a banking system here). But I had not moved the cash from my luggage, where it belongs during our stay, to my person, where it belongs during our flight. And there we were, last ones on the jet, looking at our bags on the runway. Old luggage jockey’s saying, “No more room, I’ll cart ‘em back”, (or whatever it is Russian speaking people say when that’s what they have in their hearts).
No worries, based on how God had been providing lately, I half expected we’d get to see our luggage flying through the air beside our jet - nothing to write home about. But this time He did something so amazing, so unexpected, something that really manifested His glory on earth. As we sat there praying, the young flight attendant named Jahongir repacked all the luggage in the the rear of the plane, over the objections of his co-workers, until everything fit, even our late arriving bags. This Central Asian man took the initiative and went above the call of his job to make sure that everything worked out all right for everyone. No tips asked for nor received. We were stunned - wherever did he get an attitude like that? I told Hamroz I would write a letter about him (thinking of Tajik Airlines). She got out a piece of paper and said, “give him your blog address, so he can read it.” Exactly what I had decided not to do earlier.
The name “Jahongir” means “One who Takes on the World”. Let us pray he succeeds – his world could use it.
After the plane landed, we went to a bazaar.

Passionate Taking of Advice

2007-06-28T11:23:00.000+04:30

Several improvements were made through the counsel I received from my Principal. The spirit with which the counsel was offered was particularly helpful – it was not imposed but rather suggested - allowing me to not only change in the area under consideration, but also to allow a braoder change in my teaching style.

We use a spiraling mathematics system covering level 1 in 6th grade and level 2 in 7th grade. I have allowed advanced students to move on to level 2 and even level 3 (unused at ISK). The Principal believed that it would be better to slow the advanced students down, to hold them in level one with different activities. In spite of the fact that I disagreed, I devoted many hours to producing extra worksheets and finding games tailored to the objectives of each of the lessons in September and October. I firmly believe that the extra games and worksheets were inferior to work and problems already set out by the mathematical masters who composed the level 2 and level 3 texts. The principal was momentarily convinced and dropped pressure to change. This added a positive dynamic to our relationship, she had used persuasion and not command, and that left me in control of student learning, which was to pay dividends before the year ended.

Later, the Principal made suggestions about having the students rewrite all grammatical and spelling errors in their first attempts at five paragraph essays until they got them right. Because our Principal acts through persuasion, I considered myself at liberty to consider and apply her suggestions according to my own understanding, by the spirit, not by the letter. To me, having students recopy five paragraph essays would have been stifling – it would interfere with the flow of ideas. And, more important than that, teaching coercively was something I almost never did. In the inner city we have a name for coercive teachers; we call them ex-teachers, because they are gone by Halloween.

Free to consider the wisdom in her suggestion and apply it to the benefit of the students, I found what I considered to be more appropriate venues, such as the short answers on our reading comprehension, to enforce perfect writing rules – coercively – do it until you do it right. And I found that our students respond positively to these coercive assignments. That is a source of meditation for the upcoming school year. Thanks to a supportive Principal, coercion will be a more important part of my teaching repertoire, not just something I do in one area because I have to. We are both passionate for education; may we never completely agree!

Fire in Math Class

2007-06-16T09:41:00.000+04:30

Righteousness has everything to do with relating to people. You can not be righteous when you are alone, but you can be a righteous (or unrighteous) son, father, student, wife, teacher, friend, man before God, etc. when you fulfill that role completely (or not). Every religion has rules for righteousness that define the way that adherents should fulfill life’s various relationships. But Jesus’ followers stand alone with the amazing declaration that righteousness comes through faith – not by obedience to a set of laws. Other “Christians” throughout the ages have denied this central doctrine, but the relational roles of Jesus’ true followers are counted as fulfilled through faith, not through religious obedience and ritual.

In sixth grade, I teach level one Math. Seventh grade math is level two. You should see the look in the students’ eyes if I decide to take their 6th grade book away and present them with the seventh grade book. There is a spark lit in the heart - they get pacing guidelines instead of assignments - and they take off. They “own” what they learn. Some parents complained that there is too much math homework. In every case, I hadn’t assigned their children ANY Math homework, they just wanted to be ahead of the guidelines, (and blamed me). Half the class passed every chapter test for both level one and level two (they will skip 7th grade math and go straight to pre-algebra). Three students passed every test in level 3. Two students maintained test averages above 100%. Not because of heavy assignments, but because that fire in their hearts was ignited and allowed to burn.

No one fulfills all of their relational roles on earth well – we are all “unrighteous” to some degree. But blessed are those who hunger and thirst for perfect righteousness, (they will be satisfied). God, in Christ, took our punishment on Himself, so that we could be free to let our hearts burn for righteousness, without fear of overwhelming punishment when we fall short. God is holy; He does not forget about sin – His wrath is heavy against it- yet we are free. Should any man decide to truly believe in Jesus Christ, then that spark of faith, that hunger for righteousness in every relationship, burns within him.

When a student fails a level 3 test they have a problem with me. Oh, they will have an A at the end of the year (that now depends on the teacher, not on the student – I saw their heart’s fire in action!!! No further evaluation really counts for the final grade!!!). They will have to remediate, they will have to go through something and face a similar test again. Their hunger and thirst for mathematical righteousness (not the rules in the lesson plan) wins them the blessing.

It was not through law that Abraham and his offspring received the promise that he would be heir of the world, but through the righteousness that comes by faith. Romans 4:13 NIV

For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith – and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God – not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works. Ephesians 2:8,9,10a NIV

High Standards

2007-05-31T08:37:00.000+04:30

Grade Seven Final Exam
Mr. Drew
50 minutes

Language Arts
Construct an original poem covering a deeply relevant and controversial theme. In the poem, ensure that you take one strong position and prove it true, using similies and metaphors. Ensure that the poem has perfect meter, rhythm and rhyme. Translate the poem into two other languages that do not share the same alphabetic system. Ensure that meter, rhythm, rhyme are maintained in each new language.

Math
Assume that the speed of light varies by the formula C’ = AU * C where C is the presently measured speed of light, C’ is the actual speed of light and AU is one astronomical unit from a solar sized star. Using E=M * C’^2 calculate the number of uranium atoms that would need to undergo fission to power navigation, sensing, and communications equipment (that you must design) for an enriched uranium-powered space probe on a 17,000 year constant speed voyage from earth to within 2 AU of Alpha Centauri. Recalculate the same power functions at 500 year intervals.

Science
Create life. Use of any organic materials will be considered cheating.

Social Studies
Take the evolutionist or the creationist position. If you are an evolutionist, explain how the existence of the life form that you created (in the science section) 50 million years ago would have altered the life forms that presently exist on the earth. If you are a creationist, explain how the relationship of the creator with the beings he created would have been altered by the presence of this life form at the time of the creation.

New House I

2007-05-23T10:00:00.000+04:30

The new house is just around the corner from the International School. It gives the optical illusion of being slanted away from whichever side you are on - the roof is flat and needs its own internal drain (and shoveling in the winter).

The garden has grapes (to the left), an apple tree (the trunk visible at the far right), nuts, veggies and pretty stuff. There is a well with both handpump and electric pump. Our water tank sits on our roof.
We have Pakistani wood that has a shiny finish inside. Nice trim.

New House II

2007-05-23T09:30:00.000+04:30

There is an elegant feel to the inside of our house. Even though the furniture hasn't been bought yet.

The International folks have been great to us. Here are some of the gifts that were "showered" on us.

Another view.

New House III

2007-05-23T08:58:00.001+04:30

We are buying furniture little by little. Notice the hotplates where a stove will eventually go. But Hamroz knows how to take care of business. Manzura, behind her, is a dear friend from Khujand who lives in the downsairs part of the house. Our renters are like extended family members.

You are not supposed to take pictures during prayer, but, as my sixth graders say, sometimes I am bad.

Eating outside next to the garden. You start to perceive that the house is a walled in compound - as are all similar houses in Kabul. To the right is Lydia, from Denmark. For years, she worked in Hamroz' hometown of Khujand with Manzura in an orphanage. Now, the two ladies rent rooms downstairs in our house.
From our balcony, looking out of the compound towards, "TV Hill". ISK security lurks off the screen, right around the corner

Classroom pix

2007-05-22T07:06:00.000+04:30

This is on one wall of our room - the sun putting energy into the earth's atmosphere in the form of boiled water.

And on the other side of the window, the energy comes out as the steam condenses back into water. The tectonic faults that I showed last year are all around, too, but - I posted them last year.

6th grade classroom before the kids come. The "leaves" still hang on the "tree" for mini book reports. We have been asked not to post pictures of children.

Mothers Day

2007-05-14T13:44:00.000+04:30

It was a Divinely orchestrated struggle to get Hamroz’ family to agree to allow her to marry an American. In the Soviet world view, there is a profound opposition to things American that goes deeper than logic. And their ethnic heritage demanded that they marry within their village clan – not just any Tajik family would do. The word, “foreigner” usually means, “Russian”. “American” is more alien than merely foreign. And no one could be happy living like that.

A love story like ours has never before happened; a home like ours will be has never existed before. Downstairs, two of Hamroz’ friends from the church in Khujand rent rooms from us (One a Tajik, the other from Denmark). Hamroz moved right into the house before it had any furniture, (though the finishings of the house are beautiful). I have made sure that she has always had the resources to buy the next thing, without worrying too much about what that might be. She needs the colors to match; I have been happy sleeping upside down on a submarine. Most of what has been done has been labor intensive.

While enjoying time with Hamroz, stringing up the freshly tailored curtains, my mind went back to childhood experiences of doing chores with my widowed mother. It was not as happy a time as the present day. I never learned as a boy to enjoy those times of providing, never understood that it was the pleasure of person I was with, not the completion of the task that was to be my focus. Though my relationship with my mother matured in my single adult years, she had become, by then, so much more self-sufficient.

Being with Hamroz has made me long, once again, for that one last conversation with my mother. That one last doing of laundry or moving of furniture that we can not share again. Rest in peace this mother’s day, Mom

Scooping CNN

2007-05-03T15:50:00.000+04:30

Good things are happening, so let me be the first to give you the inside news flash…

Kabul, Afghanistan. The International School of Kabul, with over 60% of the student body from Afghanistan, will conduct High School graduation ceremonies for the first time ever. The Old American International School was prohibited from enrolling national students due to the fears of foreign influence. During the troubles of the Mujahadeen and Taliban years, many Afghan families fled to nearby Pakistan, where International Schools abound. As a result, the local mullahs are now for the first time giving permission to families to obtain international quality education inside Afghanistan.

One of the amazing features of the new International School of Kabul is the composition of the teaching staff. Nearly all certified teachers, many with international experience, share expertise in the classroom. Over half the teaching staff is composed of single ladies – in a land where single ladies have many obstacles to overcome. Next year, more whole families are coming to pitch in.

Classrooms have been mixed in every sense of the word. The student body is mostly Afghan, but with a heavy mix of foreigners. Almost half are girls, well above the national average. Some are high-flying academic achievers, but many find themselves struggling with the English language only environment as well. Children of Parliament Members, High-profile Cabinet figures, obscure working families (with scholarship or outside help), private business owners and non-government aid organizations are all in the mix. Note that not many diplomatic children are here. Diplomats, apparently, come without families to this war zone.

Praises and Prayers

2007-04-23T13:55:00.000+04:30

My take on security may or may not be accurate, but it is still my take:
The Taliban’s spring offensive has not materialized. American and ISAF winter raids have taken away most of their weapons stashes inside Afghanistan. Since there is renewed tribal fighting in Waziristan (the Taliban’s Pakistani base) they can no longer cross the border with fresh supplies. Many of those who do cross seem to want to be captured rather than fight unprepared. They can, however, launch suicide/bombing raids. Just over half of those raids are being thwarted before anything explodes. Sometimes, the boys just kill themselves. The opium crop, which finances the local militias and Taliban, has been left for the most part intact for harvesting.

We have our house rented. Hamroz is living there now with two friends, one from Tajikistan, one from Denmark. The two ladies worked together for years in Khujand in an orphanage. Later, we will wall off their rooms from ours. Later, we will buy a refrigerator and oven. Later, we will buy furniture. The house is one block from the school.

God has restored rain to the land. The Taliban years were the driest ever. When I came three and a half years later in 2005, you could still cross the winding trash pit they called “Kabul River” anywhere without getting your shoes wet. Today it is flowing again, maybe twice the size of Pennypack Creek in Northeast Philadelphia. Electric power is rarely cut these days, (most of it being hydroelectric).

At school, we are taking Stanford Achievement Tests this week. This year, there has been no academic time lost due to:
1) Earthquakes
2) Explosions, nor
3) Riots
Every day, in every way, better and better.

Better and Better

2007-04-17T13:44:00.000+04:30

One of my old newsletters popped up, filled with reminders of the expectations and excitement in the air during the epoch of my arrival, "the Honeymoon Stage". It had been written in the London Airport on the way here almost two years ago.

"I attended the two week training at NICS headquarters only because it was mandatory but left grateful that it was. Cross cultural courses in Philly had left a bad taste for such things. What a difference it makes to be among brothers and discuss things from the Father's perspective!! "Third culture kids" (and adults) have some issues and grief that I had not considered before. As I met my ISK colleagues and judged their character and abilities it became apparent that we were not merely hired but truly selected from on high. Our task is formidable to the point of being hopeless apart from His help. What was, last year, a "Mom and Pop" school must reopen as THE school, not just nationally, but for the entire region. Word is out that we are IT and families, at great risk and cost, are actually moving into the war torn country to take advantage. Our newly rented building stands unoccupied, our curriculum and policies are non-existent, no procedures, academic or otherwise, exist for anything - we are writing the book as we progress. Yet we will hit the ground running in a few short weeks; I'll stake my Father's reputation on it. The hope brought through ISK will not disappoint."

The honeymoon never has worn off, with each passing month it becomes more tangible. The first year seemed like "recovering from a depression I was in denial I had." All of the events that it was my privilege to participate in can not be recounted here, suffice it to say that the school year revealed the above bulletin as prophetic. My Father's reputation is quite intact.

And the excitement level has not abated - if anything it just keeps increasing. After the second year, the metaphoric honeymoon becomes actual.

My promise to Hamroz is that I will do whatever is necessary to ensure that the feeling that we share now (that feeling that we have worked so hard to develop), will not peak this summer at the wedding. We will improve on it.

ISK motto: "Every Day in Every Way, Better and Better."

Hamroz and Family

2007-03-26T15:01:00.000+04:30

Hamroz' father is a retired computer engineer and her mother is a retired Math/Physics teacher. Her parents, two sisters, two brothers, sister in law, niece and four nephews share apartments within walking distance of each other.

While in Tajikistan from March 16th to 23rd, the Tajiki language was similar to the Dari that has begun to become somewhat comprehensible to me. But most public conversations are in Russian. Hamroz' family was able to understand me, and visa versa, for the most part. We agreed that the wedding would take place, in the city of Khujand, on or about July 7, 2007.

Hamroz' mother, one of her brothers,her sister-in law and nephew.

Hamroz is linguistically capable. As a child, her command of Russian earned her a spot in the prestigious Soviet school system. In Khujand University, she earned degrees in English and linguistics. She has also been trained by the Summer Institute of Linguistics and has worked on important translation projects. Currently, she resides in Kabul as a language instructor.

Dushanbe

2007-03-26T12:49:00.000+04:30

Hamroz wanted me to take this picture because I teach Earth Science to 6th grade at ISK. But it wasn't the rocks that made the picture, was it?
Pre- Soviet jail. Family and friends could send down food.

This picture of Old Tajikistan reminds me of present day Afghanistan.

This "then and now" photo could also be a "Afghanistan today or Tajikistan then" photo.

The church in Tajikistan is not in hiding, as she is in Afghanistan. Teenage girls perform at a youth conference.

Ottobeck was a translator. He put the Russian into Tajik, and visa versa.

Pastor Andres' son, my competition for Hamroz' heart. On Saturday morning he called up Tanya and asked for the ladies to pick him up and take him around town. They could not resist.

Right to left: Hamroz, Tanya (with whom Hamroz stayed in Dushanbe), Pastor Andres and his wife.

Main drag in Dushanbe.

Ottobeck and his wife, Gulnur. I stayed with them.

Out and Around - Eid in Khujand

2007-03-26T12:11:00.000+04:30

We were in Khujand for the New Year (Spring equinox). This photo was taken from the river.

The men at either side of me are Hamroz' brothers. The others are cousins. Eid was a time to be out and around.

Hospitality in a Soviet Style Macrorayon

2007-03-26T11:26:00.000+04:30

When we were off the plane in Dushanbe, Hamroz was excited. Tajikistan. Freedom. Freedom from chadars. Freedom from people leering at and touching her as she walked down the street. Freedom to go to the market with a foreign man. "Look, there is our flag", (but I could see no flag)! When she went to make flight arrangements, I walked around until I found the flag.

The Soviets build Macrorayons for people to live in. An efficient type of large apertment buildings. They built them in Kabul (on the other side of town) and I had seen them from the outside. Of course, that is the main type of housing in Khujand.

Future mother-in-law.

Future father-in-law.

Preparations.

The table. Every meal was served from this table.

The table was moved for this photo.

New Nephews and niece

2007-03-26T10:56:00.000+04:30

Hamroz with Dildora and Manshoo.

Nawchop, the baby, the myth, the legend...

Amir Khan.

Dilchop.

Amir Khan with Dildora.

Dildora - everpresent

Trip to the Bazaar 2

2007-03-26T09:35:00.000+04:30

After promising never to make an entry about my trip to the bazaar, this is only the second time
I've compromised the promise. Khuhand has a big bazaar. Russian chocolate is delicious, but it doesn't fool me. They don't grow anymore cocoa in Russia than they do in France, Sweden or Hershey, PA.

You can find lots of whatever if you can find the whatever shop.

Never saw any motorized supply trucks, but I saw lots of these. The folks at the shoe shop did not even bat an eye when I started to help them unload one.

Hamroz shopping in the main bazaar. I try to hide when she shops, or at least act like I don't know her. Having me around makes everything more expensive.

I tried to explain that in the USA we don't kill animals for our meat, we just buy it packaged from the deli.

Someone asked Hamroz' brother who the guy with the camera was. "He's from the government, keeping things under control." Soviet culture is still deeply engrained.

Hungry?

Gives a perspective of the main bazaar.

Yup. That's us.

Let 'em Cheat

2007-02-22T19:30:00.000+04:30

Speaking skills are important in language arts, closely linked to the part of the brain that performs writing tasks. This from the draft of ISK’s 6th grade curriculum guide that I recently wrote:

6.3 Students will be able to verbally:
Inform, persuade, question, solve problems, share ideas and stories, and reach consensus

But the traditional ways that kids get to speak in class are so… boring. One child speaks, everyone else (sort of) listens. There’s the book report. There is the child explaining how they solved the math problem. To solve the, “one at a time problem”, there was group work, the new, “magic bullet”. Teacher defined roles, teacher defined objectives.

Then, there was cheating (no, let’s call it, “cooperative learning without a rigid structure”). Far and away the best way to get kids to use their brains when they talk.

I gave out an open book reading test (before the kids had read the story), and took it back 20 minutes later, before there was any chance of completing it. The next day, I had the kids read that same story with partners and told them they could discuss it, knowing that the following day, they would have time to finish the test (alone). Great, focused reading with small group discussions took place. Real life style talking.

Some teachers give the math lesson first, then have the kids practice the skill. I just can’t. My math class has two groups in different places on a spiraling curriculum. Every day I will give two different lessons, so both groups can never get their lesson first thing. The students got used to looking at new material and trying it themselves. There are small groups that formed spontaneously to figure things out, and they call me over when they have trouble. Now, I have learned not to give, “my” lesson until after I have been summoned. Sometimes, all I do is supplement the lessons the kids give to each other. The lesson given is thus often a response to, or even a participation in, the students’ conversation. So you see little groups of students discussing and sharing answers all the time. That’s what I mean by cheati… um… cooperative learning without a rigid structure. Whenever I ask for “Testing environment” all student chairs move.

On the one hand, all the cheating going on in my room looks bad (it has been suggested that I use straight rows to, “solve the problem”). On the other hand, you do have to like the progress the kids are making. I often ask, “looking at my grades, have you ever found a student who was incorrectly evaluated?” when cheating gets brought up. Grades go up because of this, “cheating”. The kids aren’t fooling me into thinking that they know more than they really do. It’s that they really do know more.

PIXes

2007-02-14T10:55:00.000+04:30

This was my bed - two sleeping bags, five or six coats, assorted blankets, etc. in a pile. You can see a hood hanging out right where my head would eventually be.
This was what I wore to bed. Winter PJ's.
OK so you read this far and realize that this post was made on St. Valentine's Day. Hamroz had to be here somewhere. There is no way to classify this stage in our relationship in a way that makes sense. Marriages are arranged, and we have decided to arrange ours. Since I have not been to Tajikistan to speak to her father yet, we can not say that we are, "engaged". Just say - we are in love.

Pix

2007-01-24T15:57:00.000+04:30

Lounge in the men's house. On the floor to the right of the soda, an electric heater cuts the chill down.

Sakhi, our cook.
We have lots of security. Unlike Philadelphia, it's not to control the students.
Outside shot of the men's house. The first shot of this post is on the other side of the lower right window.

Christmas Overseas

2007-01-21T15:36:00.000+04:30

While growing up, our mother would work Christmas Eve until afternoon. So in the mornings we (my three sisters, my brother and I) would sing Christmas Carols together as we strung up pop corn and cranberries for tree ornaments. After a rushed dinner (always grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup) we would carol around the neighborhood as a family. Falling asleep in Midnight Mass. Presents Christmas morning. Empty the stockings Christmas afternoon. Big late lunch like a repeat of Thanksgiving. Several days later, Aunt Betty would come over – last chance to pick up some presents. That was Christmas.

“Christmas” for me dwindled when my older siblings were no longer around Being the youngest, the downgrade began during my teen years. Elements of the original Christmas would still be captured one year or another. In the Navy, I was often at sea. There, the church services would fill up every Christmas – always had to have a good Christmas sermon ready. Plastic Christmas trees made out of radiation control material growing out of the main engines.

In Costa Rica, the long “summer” break began at Christmastime. Often, I would leave the capitol and visit families of my University bible study participants in the countryside. Again, I always needed to have a few good sermons prepared – those informal, “evangelico” meetings seemed to pop up all around – where I was welcomed, so was He. Central American tamales, horseback rides and riverside picnics.

Back in Philadelphia, one room of my house would be filled for the month of December with presents from GCCC. Every Christmas Eve, the van would have to be loaded up several times with presents. Packing and driving, arriving and surprising. Christmas dinner in NJ at my brother’s house. (Preaching at the table only.) A week later, at my sister’s. Christmas overseas (or on the far side of the river) was the routine. By June, all of the presents would be gone. Usually.

For the last two years, Christmas has been Dari language time. Most of the other foreigners leave. The International community is very tight, but it’s best to turn down all the invitations for fellowship in English. This year, I turned down the invitation to go to the Friesens five times before going. Later, Afghan friends came over my place, too - just like any other day. But you have to wonder, if the call really is to do Christmas here, what sould be constructed for Christmas when I am culturally mature?

How's the Weather?

2007-01-09T10:47:00.000+04:30

Many have inquired about the weather.

From a meteorological standpoint, the key things are our altitude and our proximity to the Himalaya Mountains. Weather patterns aren’t capable of pushing through here – when temperatures change, they've moved for the season. The best weather prediction is always that the next five days will be just like today – changes are gradual so it works year round. Summer gets as hot here as it does in Philadelphia (highs in the high 90’s F), but the blaring sun makes it necessary to find shade – you should get all your long distance running done before 6 A.M. Winter gets as cold here as it does in Philadelphia (highs around 20 F), but the blaring sun will turn snow into ice and make standing outdoors bearable. When you put wet clothes out, the sunny side dries and the shaded side freezes solid. One flip and they dry right up. Precipitation is scarce, falling mostly in the winter. But meteorology does not tell the sneakers-on-the-ground weather story very well.

Not that it gets too cold outside, but it stays cold inside – there is no escape, ever. Electric heaters or stoves for wood, coal, diesel, etc. will heat part of a room for a little while. Electricity comes and goes (It is always gone by 11 P.M.) and stoves run out of fuel. For the poor, nights are hard to survive – every day there are multiple deaths from carbon asphyxiation, fires and freezing; pick your strategy. On my bed are two sleeping bags, one inside the other. Above them are placed layers of covers interspersed with every coat available. With a couple pair of sweats on, I slip under it all. The coat with a hood is always at the head – so the hood can be worn laying down. Things are warm enough right after power goes off, but room temperature drifts towards outside temperature, no safe way of stopping it. Sometimes, by three or so it will be too cold to sleep.

In daytime, you often won’t notice that your knuckles are burning on one hand and the other arm frozen numb, because it's so cozy there in the middle. That is the way us rich folk live. More than once, I’ve taken my heaviest coat off the bed to brave the outdoors, only to find a nice day with a strong sun. Outside isn’t that much colder than inside.

This morning, the US military invited us over for the Ohio State – Florida game. Not many teachers are here, but Mike C. and I picked up several doctors on the way to the base, a few miles down the road. Local kickoff time: about an hour before sunrise. One of the doctors asked me, “What temperature is it outside this morning?”
“Same as it is inside.” We went on to compare frozen pipe stories. Excitement flooded the heart of one doctor's daughter because they have frost on the inside wall. She wrote home overjoyed because she is allowed to have snow in her room here. The US base is temporary construction, standard wood barracks tinged with tin. But it wasn’t the game as much as the creature comforts –no power outages, the rooms themselves were warm, omelets for breakfast, donuts. A wonderful change. It felt like we went somewhere different - a real change in the weather.

Why I can't speak Dari, Spanish, Anything

2007-01-02T14:37:00.000+04:30

Spanish and Dari end up mixed, mezclado, gd shd, in my mind. No longer able to speak Spanish, after all this time and effort, all this struggling and studying, I’m now down half a language. If my English goes bad (and there are some bad early indications that it is) it'll mean deep trouble. Instead of defending, the time to attack has arrived. Every year at this time I read through the bible once like it was a novel – this year I will read it in a Spanish translation. Meanwhile, I'm memorizing the gospel of John in Dari. That should force my brain to put the languages into separate storage and access spaces. I’ve been faithful to read large chunks of, “Dios Habla Hoy” every morning. Then, all day is left to:

Excuses not to Learn the Dari Language

1. Have to write e-mails (especially to someone special)
2. Ran out of coffee/sugar/hot chocolate
3. Eagles just won a game and need to read up on it
4. Just found RICY kids on myspace
5. Ran out of coffee/sugar/hot chocolate
6. Got a special e-mail from Tajikistan
7. Roommate stopped by for a chat
8. They hung Saddam and had to read up on it
9. Ran out of coffee
10.Made a special phone call
11.Flyers lost another couple of games and had to read about it
12.Had to go to bathroom
13.Ran out of water for coffee
14.Friends stopped in to drink coffee
15.Had to respond to e-mails
16.Dari teacher also came over, so we drank more coffee and watched a movie in English
17.Ran out of brownies/coffee
18.Went to bathroom - ran out of toilet paper
19.Had to pray about that lady from Tajikistan
20.Had to post this

I'm sorry ki esto fue cami dificil to famidan, blki ITS VACATION TIME.

It's Already Happening Again

2006-12-09T17:09:00.000+04:30

Christmas Break is starting to happen. It is well below freezing (temperature changes only by season here, the Himalayas do not lend themselves to passing weather patterns – no more warm days until March). Snow has hit the ground, and refuses to retreat. Snow plows are unheard of.

There are four Christmas movies per week scheduled over at the Marble Mansion.

My friend, (who does not like being mentioned), will be on her way home Friday. Her family lives in the region, but far enough away for that to be an issue. Please pray – (if I posted any details, it would mortify her. Even this post is risky.)

The only warm places are directly in front of space heaters and under blankets (oh, and the Marble Mansion). Showers are also warm if you get there at the right time.

ISK Elementary and High School have both put on Winter Musical Performances at the University of Kabul. Our staff Christmas party is also history.

Next Monday (12/18) is the last day of classes. Next Tuesday almost all the teachers leave (if the airplanes are flying).

This will be my first break WITHOUT auxiliary responsibilities. Perhaps I will start to become proficient at the local language?

Excerpts from: Open Letter to the AISK Community from an ISK Teacher

2006-11-22T13:44:00.000+04:30

You may have gotten the misguided impression that my sixth grade class last school year was representative of the new International School of Kabul. Last year we were in a rapid transition, a new staff increased student enrollment by over 300 percent in our first few weeks in country just before school began (and you will be aware of the problems encountered in one’s first few weeks in Kabul). Not all of our new students were properly tested for English proficiency. I took it as a compliment, a show of the administration’s confidence in me, that my sixth grade class became the destination of many students who would not have much chance for success in other classrooms. Over half of that class of twenty were linguistically challenged. Three students have withdrawn (two against my advice), four are with me for another year of sixth grade (two will surely be promoted this year, and the other two may or may not) and the rest are in our seventh grade this year. While some of our students were getting grounded in English, the others were not held back. Sixth grade scored its share of excellent rankings on the Stanford standardized tests, our primary measuring stick. What ISK accomplished last year was, in my professional opinion, miraculous.

This year, sixth grade is a much more representative group (though four repeating students is far above the school-wide average). Not that there isn’t a call to differentiate instruction. The Stanford exams are our “measuring stick”. The average Student is not expected to increase in percentile rankings as he/she progresses in years, the 50th percentile being the national average for each successive grade. By the statistical phenomena of the “Normal Curve”, you would expect most students to score around the middle and fewer approaching the lower and upper limits. But ISK student performances are reversed – few in the middle, most either struggling or excelling, leading to the quip that normal people don’t live in Kabul. Based on the progress that this year’s sixth grade students are making, I expect that in Mathematics, over half will score 85th percentile or above. Twelve of my twenty students are being prepared to skip 7th grade math and go directly to pre-algebra next year. Most of the rest are above average, and should be clustered slightly above the 50th percentile. Reading results will not yet be as impressive (linguistic problems are lessening, but still quite measurable). Perhaps one fourth of the class will have excellent scores. The rest should show an average jump of about 20 percentile rankings in reading. Those are my expectations – what I believe we are accomplishing this year.

In moving towards accreditation, ISK is defining our Scope and Sequence, what we must teach each year in each subject. What was necessary in 6th grade reading class last year (some students received instruction on a second grade level) will never again be allowed. There are some gaps presently being plugged by teacher expertise that will need more permanent solutions. For example, sixth grade Social Studies covers world history. But in our US produced text, The Persian Empire is mentioned only when it unites Greece (by a failed invasion) and during the conquest of Alexander the Great. I often retell some of the stories of Persia as told by Heroditus (especially the childhood of Cyrus). I attempt to point to Persia’s strategy of benevolence towards conquered lands as the predecessor to the Pax Romana. But in writing ISK’s Scope and Sequence, I will need to explain to all future ISK 6th grade teachers how to add Persian History into a text that rarely mentions it. Can AISK alumni offer any help or resources?

To Sustain or not to Sustain

2006-11-13T15:59:00.000+04:30

There is so little will to sustain anything right left in the US.

I used to wonder how Soviet Communism stood for so long. Now that I see what existed along its southern borders, no doubt Communism came off looking great in comparison. The church is not in hiding in nearby Tajikistan as it is here - a tribute to the liberating work of men like Joseph Stalin?

Will we stay the course for 25, 35, or 50 years? Probably not, though we could if we wanted to. So little resolve behind our desire to do good remains. There have been over 350 murders in the City of Philadelphia so far this year (2006), over one per day, but there have been far less than 300 American deaths from all causes in all Afghanistan, Pakistan and Uzebekistan combined since 2001. The price to do good can be paid for a season, but there is no sustaining conviction behind it. We probably will not stay the course, why put up with year after year of the same struggle on the news when on the other channel a good sports team can consistently produce a final victory in 3 hours?

Gal 6:9
Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. NIV

I watched a documentary movie about the Battle of Getysburgh. The men had a certain dedication that is lacking today. If, in each area of ignorance, we posted 2,000 men of peace, willing to risk to do what is right, and made it clear we would sustain our efforts until victory, hundreds of millions of souls would be free within 3 years. But no way we're going to pay that kind of price, so it will take longer. Perhaps by the time ignorance falls here, it will have a grip in the west - she is looking so very tolerant these days.

Back to Offense

2006-11-10T18:44:00.000+04:30

A private conference with the Principal kicked off the new year. She asked me not to differentiate instruction unless I first documented the need. After documenting the need every subject area was, to some extent, differentiated. Particularly uneasy about the fact that over half of my class is on pace to finish sixth grade math before Thanksgiving (as 6 out of 20 did last year), she called a meeting of all math teachers, sixth grade and above. Since ISK has not yet produced a scope and sequence, she wanted to ensure that our instruction is coordinated.

During the meeting, it was explained that I have three years of math books available that spiral – reviewing the same topics but with slightly more depth each year. When students move ahead, they simply end up spiraling back to the same topics in more detail. The second book is in use for seventh grade math (which my top students skipped last year – and are succeeding in pre-algebra). The third book is in use by no one except me.

She asked if I might not be covering material too superficially. That is a criticism of the spiraling system which we purchased, but I provide more depth than the books. And advancing to another year is what is designed provide more depth. My advanced students do that quickly.

She was concerned that I was trying to push Algebra on my students before they were developmentally ready. But everyone in Middle School claims to teach algebra these days. X + 2 = 5 is algebra. Unit 1 in the sixth grade book is called, “Number Patterns and Algebra”. No getting around it.

The meeting ended with me no longer on the defensive, but rather being asked to produce a scope and sequence to standardize what I have been doing. One impossible task deserves another.

As of yet, no one has shown concern about the way my Language Arts class is differentiated. I’ll have to step up my efforts there.

No Bazaar in Saygon

2006-10-30T13:54:00.000+04:30

My Dari linguistic capability is not there yet; therefore the perspective from which the post is written is of reality unfolding in ways that at first were misunderstood, and probably still are. The promise not to write about, “my trip to the bazaar” stands, and though a fall vacation week account could fit into that category, I might get away with it this once - because there is no bazaar in Saygon.

The night before we left, a dear friend, living in Kabul, from nearby Tajikistan (whom I wish was as interested in me as I am in her) spoke to me. We have had cross cultural communications issues, and there are now three options:
1) Give up.
2) Go West. See each other and talk – a lot (this goes against her cultural grain).
3) Go East. I’m confused as to how, but think that I would end up owing something to someone.
We agreed to try option 2 after the trip, which set the tone for where my mind was at.

I was invited to Aaaaa’s house in Bamyan. He lives in Saygon, outside the Provincial Capitol, and there is no Taliban activity between here and there. Aaaaa bargained with the bus driver, and at 4 in the morning, off we went in a mini van with about 7 others. Half were University of Kabul students. Bbbbb, aaaaaa’s room mate in the U of K, happened to be there - we had met before, but there were 18 others in the room at the time. His mother lives in Pakistan and what he said when I asked him why he was going to Bamyan was not understandable. He gave me a cap, and would not allow me to return it. My western head needed to be hidden as we passed through the towns with open Taliban activity.

In this part of the country there is nothing but huge, dry, rocky mountains and small, dry rocky valleys. Water is very scarce; streams, when they can be found, can usually be crossed without bridges. “Roads” are rocky trails winding around ridges carved into steep canyons. Upon arriving in Bamyan, it became apparent that we had no plans of what to do nor where to stay. Bbbbb had come to spend the time with us, as did Ccccc, whose family lives in Bamyan. Aaaaa kept bargaining for arrangements, asking me first what to do. My role was to confirm his decisions, pay the lion’s share of the bills, and act like everything was my idea. What great preparation for marriage! Couldn’t get that Tajiki girl out of my mind.

After late lunch in a Bamyan hotel, we took another long trip to Aaaaa’s house in Saygon. Several interrelated families have a commune-like arrangement farming a beautiful 100 yard wide canyon ridge with a stream. Everything that we ate there came from the farm. The meat was from a goat slaughtered for our visit. The vegetables and grain for bread were home grown. The salt was mined from the mountain. The coke was bottled from the stream.

It took almost to the end of the trip to gain the sense that basic life functions were manageable– knowing how to get water, where to relieve myself, where to get food, etc.. We slept one night at Aaaaa’s house in Saygon, one night at Ccccc’s house in Bamyan and the rest of the nights not in a hotel, but in an office (friend of Aaaaa) in downtown Bamyan, that was closed for the week. No water, no electricity, just cushions laid around an office. Just as in Costa Rica, I am learning how to get around by spending time with College age students.

I won’t bore you with stories that are better told on internet sites:

Taliban Masacres
http://www.hazara.net/taliban/genocide/bamyan/bamyan.html

Buddhist Mountain Worship Center
http://www.hazara.net/hazara/geography/Buddha/buddha.html

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Buddhas_of_Bamyan

Suffice it to say that we constantly passed by the seemingly omnipresent graves. Aaaaa was friends with one of the archeologists working to preserve the Buddhist ruins in Central Bamyan, and after and hour of tea in his office, we were lead to tour the cliff wall with unrailed trails that connect about 100 caves where monks used to live around the statues. I invited the archeological team to visit ISK (International School of Kabul), and hope that they can come.

The landscape looms breathtakingly vibrant, the mountains’ rocky lunar-like lifelessness broken occasionally by browning patches of slender subsistence valleys. I took a swim in a lake (rare find) whose steep canyon sides made it impossible to touch the bottom anywhere. No one else in the party knew how to swim, water sports not being the norm here. Bad location for beginner’s lessons. Bamyan itself is as impressive as anywhere else God created. I enjoyed her beauty without craving it. What I had come for was the fellowship of the group, the education of how to survive a vacation week Afghan style. Male bonding and coming of age as an Asian were the dual purposes of the trip, both of which, though off to spectacular starts, are still works in progress.

PIX

2006-10-25T21:12:00.001+04:30

The entrance to the Administration Building at ISK. "Growing in Greatfulness" is our theme for the year. The window to the left is the Principal's Office. The Director's Office is directly above that. In the back of the upper floor, you will find the Administrator's Office and the Director's lliving quarters. The secretary will greet you as you walk in the door. Behind her desk is our new library. Downstairs is a small auditorium.

Sixth grade cleaning up at the end of the day. Notice the light coming in from the windows facing south!!!!! Very nice when the power goes off.

Cars line up on the street adjacent to the Administration Building to pick up students. We have a significant investment in safety, and the cars can not make it into this line without being previously stopped at our security check point.

B Building in the foreground, The Marble Mansion in the background. Since the new High School Building has opened, B Building has been devoted to Kindergarten and specials. Upstairs is the computer lab, and our satelight connection, supplied by PAC TEC, is on the roof. The Marble Mansion houses over half of our single female teachers.

Humiliating Incarnation

2006-10-03T16:55:00.000+04:30

The only miracle of Jesus’ life was the incarnation. If we understand what happened when God took on a body, we would not think it miraculous that blind men should receive sight, that the wind and the sea should obey Him nor even that He should rise from the dead. (It would have been a miracle had they killed Him, but they could not – He laid down His own life.)

There is a round of applause for me from the expatriate community because of my intermediate ability to speak Dari. I converse, often getting and receiving real ideas. After the ninth or tenth sentence, some expect that I will have, “had enough” and drop out of a conversation with nationals, but I can hang in there indefinitely, hour after hour (giving the illusion of understanding). I am progressing in the "impossible" Persian script, though with difficulty, now in the national second grade schoolbook.

How far would Jesus go to understand us, to share in our experiences? I can imagine the heavenly host applauding as He became a human fetus – no member of the Godhead had ever gone so far. Now that He had existed in a fleshly body, fed on nutrients supplied by His mother’s blood, He would understand us forever. Perhaps He would then and there declare, “Pineapple accomplished” and return home to live in the Spirit in heaven. But He did not. He was born a boy, and took the pains to grow in favor with God and man.

It was suggested to me (by an ex-pat), that I no longer was in need of formal language instruction. She did not pick up on the severity of the only two language related problems that I have left to conquer: When people speak, I do not understand them and when I speak, they do not understand me. Perhaps the locals should be given Dari lessons – so that they will understand my "excellent" speach.

How far would Jesus go to understand, to become a participant in, human society? Even after the, “done deal” declared that men could be made holy, Jesus again took up His body. He is still God incarnate today. Across 2000 years of history He has resided in a body, interceding for us at the right hand of the Father. In John 17, looking straight at us through the eyes of His disciples, Jesus said, “As the Father has sent me, so I am sending you”. How far should we go to understand, to participate in, human societies?

Achieving an Intermediate language capacity is a dangerous position for an American. We, who are internationally notorious for our poor language learning efforts, will applaud and declare each other, “finished”. Learning a language implies so much hard and humiliating work, it is an attractive option to start thinking, “Pineapple accomplished”. Is a second grade reader the point where one should rest? My mind is made up – I’m sticking with the hard and humiliating work. Don’t look for me in the USA this Christmas, either.

Inverse Bell Curve

2006-09-28T15:43:00.001+04:30

A bell curve usually describes student performance. Most students perform close to average (the curve is high in the middle around the 50th percentile). Very few students are incredibly capable nor incredibly incapable (the curve gets lower to the right and left towards the 99th and 1st percentile, forming the bell). Good lessons are planned around the 60th percentile level (drawing students up) with some differentiation for more advanced and trailing students. Then, there was ISK.

There are a number of highly capable students here (curve is high on the right towards the 99th percentile). There are a number of students who struggle in our English-only environment (curve is high on the left towards the 1st perentile). There are no students in the middle (normal kids don't come here). A perfect inverse bell curve. Then, there was me.

There is no middle ground to teach on that makes an sense to me. All of the middle ground is 1)too far away to be reached by most students on the left of the curve and 2) tends to draw the advanced students towards the middle. I can't see any case for teaching a, "normal" 50th or 60th percentile lesson, when I have few/no 40th or 50th percentile stiudents. So I differentiate the whole thing - at least two groups, at least two lessons. All students being taught within reach, all students being drawn forward. Like a one room schoolhouse. Then, there was the ISK administration.

Seems that they did not envision a one room schoolhouse in the ISK sixth grade. Got a complaint from the Principal the other day because she noticed that I was on page 250 of the Math book halfway through September. This has never happened to me before in all my years of teaching in Philadelphia- an administrator read my lesson plan!! Isn't that cheating? I explained to her that, (as we had briefly previously discussed) only 11 of my students were halfway through the math book and 9 were struggling valiently (and likely to get B's and C's) on the first few lessons. She went positive and noted how much I liked teaching Math, but complained of a lack of balance. She said she would speak with the Director and get back to me.

In the meantime, though I appreciate her positive outlook, I did not take the, "out of balance" comments sitting down. Too much math? Didn't she notice that I run a reading program worthy of being complained about, too? I've revamped language arts, redone it into three groups, and might even shift some math time into reading. Complaints should be, if nothing else, well balanced.

Pray for the Principal. She has to put up with living in a city where terrorist bombings are becoming more common. Our security team often wakes her up when they converse outside her window before sunrise. One of the members of Parliament, who wears a long beard, speaks Pashtun, wears a big turban (just like the Taliban), has a security team that carries automatic rifles and complains of his "workers" being killed by the US and ISAF in the farmlands, lives on the other side of the fence in her yard. She has to deal with the electricity going off, dust that settles hourly on everything, mines blown up daily around noon, housing a High School until October (when the HS building should be finished), rumors of a Taliban advance, an earthquake plan that has everyone going out and a terrorist defense plan that has everyone going in (she has implemented both - for real, not for drill - in our first year). She is responsible for keeping the kindergarteners from peeing on the toilet seats and the teachers from being abducted by Al-Qaida. And she has me teaching her sixth grade (it was NOT her choice).

No normal people ever come here.