An abbreviated reflection on my first year of teaching (with a not-so-hidden agenda)

Today, at 10 AM, I officially finished my first year as a teacher. Okay, sure, I still have to do a little tidying up in my classroom, and a little book counting, and a little reflective writing (in a formal setting, not on the old faithful blog), but I am done with the actual teaching parts. You know- grading, lecturing, telling my students lame jokes.

So today, I am here to tell you a few things, with the not-so-hidden agenda of convincing some wonderful person in the world to come and help me teach next year! So here's my list on why you should come be a teacher in Malawi, Africa at African Bible College Christian Academy. (Also can be read as things I've learned this year.)

1. You'd be serving Jesus as a missionary, fulfilling the Great Commission, stepping out on faith, answering the Call.  Yep, I'm pulling that one out first thing.  The God Card. But seriously- I can think of no better way to increase your faith, deepen your relationship with Christ, lessen your attachment to "stuff", and live radically. Not to mention the opportunity you'd have to impact students from all over the world. And that's just in the classroom and on campus. Getting outside the walls of ABC multiplies those opportunities for growth and impact exponentially.

2. You'd be teaching under the most awesome headmaster I know. Brian Carlisle is an incredible man of God whose judgment and wisdom I deeply admire and respect. And he's fun! I've learned from him and been encouraged by him in a number of ways, and look forward to spending more time with the Carlisle family next year. (Especially with the upcoming addition of baby Nathan!)

3. ABC has the greatest students ever. Seriously have never been around a group of more incredible teens. If I'm honest with you, I'll say that teaching is probably not my life-long calling. I didn't always look forward to getting up and going to school. But I ALWAYS am glad to see my students. Sure there are times it's less exciting than others- (i.e. a Sunday afternoon surprise visit to the Quad..."Miss O, why are you wearing pajamas?) but even then my kids bring a smile to my face.  They're incredible people who are willing to learn. They don't think their teachers are the least cool people on the planet. They are willing to be seen with me in public settings. They willingly give me hugs on the last day before a break. They rarely, if ever, talk back to me. And they've even improved their courtesy laughs when you tell cheesy teacher jokes.

4. Malawi is beautiful.  I've learned as much from this country and culture and people as I have from the "missions" experience. The country is gorgeous and the weather is practically perfect 90% of the year. The people are gracious and love to laugh and dance and sing and share their culture with us azungus. The language is quick and fun, the lifestyle is relaxed and free. It's an experience you (and I) can never forget. As much as I'm looking forward to being in the States for a visit, I know every night I'll long for the African sunset.  I'll miss the cool breeze that blows even on the hottest days.  I'll cry for the smiles and hugs and handshakes I'm leaving behind (because emotions are nothing to be scared of).

5. Obviously, the reason that I know will win you ALL over: You'll get to work alongside ME! Okay, okay...I realize that's not really that big of a deal. But I will tell you that there would be a whole community of people here who would be thrilled to see you come.  Scott Borders, our history teacher, is looking at teaching 5 classes, as well as being head teacher for the upper school next year.  I, Allison, who has not a teaching degree and twitches a little bit at the awkwardness of 12 and 13 year olds, am also at this point planning to teach 5 classes (7th through 11th grade) of English/Literature/Language Arts.  Though the possibility of combining a couple classes is being talked of, it's not a favorable option when I consider the students' best interest.

I'll soon be posting a blog list of things I've experienced this year that I never thought I would. It'll be great. It might convince you even more.
So whoever you are out there...say yes. And if God's not calling you to ABC, but you're realizing right about now that you need to say "yes" to something else He's asking of you- please do so. And if you KNOW someone who might read this and even think about saying yes, will you please please please please please send this to them? Please? Or if you even just want a little more information on this place or the positions available next year... Email me! Facebook me! Leave a comment! I'll find you.

Why your prayers matter...

Sometimes I'm so aware of the emptiness of the people and the commission on my life... I feel it physically...it's heavy. My chest constricts and my breath seems to come reluctantly... I can't help them all... The need is so great.

Making Memories

First, I must apologize for the terribly long silence.  I've tried to blog several times and because of internet, electricity, business, or writers block, this is the first time I've made it this far. But here I am!

Like the last post, I'm ashamed to say that it took me as long as it did to experience what I'm writing about today.  Life at ABC can be draining, to say the least, and for a long time, Aly and I were so busy and tired that we rarely made it outside the walls except for a weekly shopping trip or a trip to grab pizza or Indian food.  In the past few months though, our experiences have altered drastically, and certainly for the better. Aly's experiences have been different from mine, so I am only speaking for myself today.

Two weeks ago, Jan Harper and Mary McCormick, dear friends of mine from the States, arrived here in Malawi. Mary's staying with us until we go home, but Mrs. Jan was only here for a week.  The following day a team of college students from Arizona arrived, and we resolved to join Mary, Mrs. Jan, and the team for as many activities as possible.

Sunday we went to church with the Kysers at an orphanage in Bunda, about 30 minutes away. The Kysers have been getting involved with this orphanage and church, and they were glad to have us all. The church is pastored by an ABC grad and a current student leads music.  We were led to seats of honor in the front of a lovely small building with no real floor and windows (no glass) to let in the light.  It's quite nice, really, and the walls are painted and designed simply but prettily. Fortunately they sang one song we all knew, and we just smiled and clapped along for the rest. The sermon was preached in English and Chichewa, so we kept up pretty well there. After church we lined up for everyone to greet us, and then had lunch with the pastors.  We spent the rest of the afternoon playing with the kids who live at the orphanage there and getting tours of the facilities. It was such a blessing, and I'm already looking for ways to get more involved there in the future.

Fortunately, Monday was a holiday, so Aly and I took the day to kidnap Mrs. Jan and Mary.  I drove on my first road trip in Malawi! We made the trip from Lilongwe to Dedza- roughly 2 hours away.  First off, it's a GORGEOUS drive. It was the perfect sort of day for a road trip- not too hot, not too cold- sunny, but with occasional cloud cover. The drive is really pretty decent, with minimal police stops and I made it all the way there and back without hitting a single goat, chicken, child, pedestrian, or bicycler! In Dedza we dropped off our friend Ryan, a peace corps volunteer hitching a ride with us, and then went to have lunch and look at pottery.  Dedza is pretty well known in Malawi for it's beautiful pottery, and there's a lovely little place with a beautiful view of the countryside where you can have lunch outside and then look through the 3-room store full of Malawian pottery!  We all made a few purchases and I got the giraffe coffee cup I had my eye on the last time I was there. It's adorable. The end.

Tuesday we had to work, but in the afternoon we jumped on the bus with the team and rode down the street to the crisis nursery. The Crisis Nursery is a ministry in Lilongwe that goes into nearby villages and takes in babies who are struggling.  Perhaps their mother died or is sick, or for some reason the family is unable to care for the child right now.  The kids stay at crisis for a while, and if all goes well, they can return home within weeks or months.  The women who work here should be sainted. They're incredible. You can tell that they really love the kids and I've watched faces of the babies light up when one of the ladies walks into the room. I'd been to Crisis before, so I found my sweet baby Bridgette (I play favorites) and we had a grand time. She's been at Crisis since she was 2 days old, and she seems to be doing well these days. She loves to cuddle, and has an adorable habit of sticking her tongue out.  However laid back she may be, she's very aware of what goes on around her.  She's a darling.  We've met most of the children there now, and go as often as possible to play with sweethearts like Ulemu, Chikumbutso, Matteo, and Enoch.

Thanks to our wonderfully kind headmaster and head teachers, Aly and I managed to get the day off Wednesday and we went with the team to a village about 20 km from here. There's a young couple from California who were also here and who have come several times to work with this specific village, so they came with us.  They've worked to build a school and a well in the village, and invest time and funds to give the kids an education and make life a little easier for the people there. When we drove up, there was already a group of probably 40 or 50 kids waiting for us.
Now, I've told you we were with a team who had been in Malawi for only a few days at this point. Our friends Ben, Blessings, and Titu were leading this expedition, and they obviously speak Chichewa, but out of the "azungus" Aly and I had the advantage. Our Chichewa is pretty terrible by most standards, but we had more than any of the other white folks (we were clearly more popular than our Malawian friends leading the group) so the children flocked to us.  Within about 45 seconds I had 3 new friends, the oldest and most vocal of whom was a beautiful little girl, about 6 years old, named Memory. As one of the older students, Memory could figure out enough of my Chichewa to communicate basics and help us figure out names of other kids there. For the next 3 hours, she didn't leave my side, despite the little girl Mafa who wouldn't leave my arms. We sang and danced and laughed and colored pictures, and I fell in love with her sweet smile. Every few minutes, Memory would look up at me, grin, and say "mzungu" in the sort of voice you'd use for a baby who's just achieved something new or done something silly. She'd then collapse in giggles. However much I tried to convince her that I wasn't a mzungu (white person), she wasn't falling for it. Periodically when she said this I'd remind her of my name, and she'd call me Allison for about 2 minutes, and then resume the mzungu giggle sequence, to which I would respond in Chichewa, "Where?! Where are the white people?", earning laughter from all the little Malawians who probably now thing all azungus are completely crazy.

The week spent with the team (we did more with them throughout the rest of their time here) was one of the longest weeks I've had in Malawi.  I have never been so busy and so tired here. I was rarely home during the daylight hours, and stayed up late working to finish school prep or cheering on our basketball boys in their last few games before the summer. But I would venture to say it's also the most fulfilled I've felt since arriving. What is about serving that brings so much joy?  Isn't our God great?  He arranged it so that the most tiring and draining work is the most wonderful.  The more we pour out, the more He pours into us.  These are lessons we all learn at different times in our lives, but I guess you just expect to feel that way on the mission field.  I've been missing out.  Though I do derive great joy and fulfillment from teaching my students and loving them, Christ revealed to me that I wasn't truly serving Him with everything.  I've been selfish with my time.  Yes, I've made a big transition in the past year, and no, nothing about my life right now is ideal or how I imagined it would be.  Every day is still a struggle in some ways, but every day is also a blessing, and I've been missing out on so many blessings (and so many Memories) by refusing to be further inconvenienced. Despite everything, ABC had become a comfort zone, and I didn't want to leave it. But God pushed me out again and reminded me what it felt like to fall, exhausted, into His loving arms every night.  It wasn't an easy lesson, and it certainly involved some tears and some frustration.
And it all started with a little girl named Memory who held my hand and loved me shamelessly and reminded me what it's like to be carefree and completely trusting in a big, strange, scary world.

Watching the team do a skit

Chatting with Mrs. Jan- probably trying to figure out how to
say something in Chichewa

Holding hands with Memory and watching the parachute games!

New Things!

This week I had a new experience. I'm sad to say it took me this long, but yesterday I willingly subjected myself to the mode of transportation known here as "minibus".

You see, most of Malawi doesn't own a car, and right now, even those who do are hard pressed to find petrol (gas) to make that car go.  We are no exception to this rule, so yesterday, when Michelle mentioned going to the chitinge market, I was a bit confused as to how this was going to happen. However, when I realized minibus was the transportation of choice for the day, I decided I would go along.  Michelle's parents are visiting from the US, and I figured if we could all have the new experience at once it might be more fun.

So, here's the process:
1. Walk to the front gate and wait.
2. Flag down a minibus going the correct direction. Now, this sounds easy, but ya gotta know just how to do this. There's a special technique that involves flapping your hand around like a dying fish. It's great. The buses carry signs in the front that tell you what area they're travelling to, so that's how you figure out which one to take.
3. Decide if YOU think there's actually room for you in the bus. Let me explain: These look like your typical 15-passenger church bus type thing from back home. Fairview folks, picture the old tan van. Except white. And they're about that old, too. These are in various states of disrepair, and the amount of black smoke coming out of the tailpipe is irrelevant. Now, when you ask a Malawian how many people fit in this bus, they tell you between 18 and 21. I am here to say, we beat that. 21 adults and 2 children, one of the adults (Michelle's dad) being 7 feet tall.
4. Squish into a seat with your new best friend!
5. Pay the "conductor" somewhere between 100 and 200 kwacha, depending on how naive you look and how much petrol is in the country.
6. Say a magical phrase in Chichewa that convinces the conductor to tell the driver to stop and let you off in the correct place!

Seriously, in the past I was not super thrilled about this concept, but it was much less terrifying than I anticipated. I actually kinda enjoyed it. However, I did have wonderful Malawian friends with me who knew all the magic words to say to make things go smoothly. I think I'd be a little more intimidated alone.
In fact, we had great plans of doing the whole thing over again today, but after a 30 minute wait with no luck finding a bus with vacant seats, we gave up. Clearly I'm still very American- but an American with one more Malawian experience under her belt!

Story Time: The Cracked Pot

     Once upon a time, a water bearer in Malawi had to large pots. One hung on each end of a pole which he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it, and while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water at the end of the long walk from the stream to the master's house. The cracked pot arrived only half full. For a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water in his master's house.  Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, perfect to the end for which it was made.  But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do. After two years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream.  "I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you."
     "Why?" asked the bearer. "What are you ashamed of?"
     "I have been able, for these past two years, to deliver only half my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your master's house.  Because of my flaws, you have to do all of this work, and you don't get full value from your efforts," the pot said.
     The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and in his compassion he said, "As we return to the master's house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path."
     Indeed, as they went up the hill, the old cracked pot took notice of the sun warming the beautiful wild flowers on the side of the path, and this cheered it some. But at the end of the trail, it still felt bad because it had leaked out half of its load, and so again it apologized to the bearer for its failure.
   The bearer said to the pot, "Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of the  path, but not on the other pot's side? That's because I have always known about your flaw, and I took advantage of it.  I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back from the stream you've watered them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my master's table. Without you being just the way you are, he would not have this beauty to grace his house."
-a Malawian folk tale, told to me by a friend

Amazing, isn't it, how God takes our imperfections and works them for His purpose and glory?  Embrace the beauty that comes with being flawed.

homesickness

     Seven months ago yesterday, I left my home and got on a plane to go to Africa.  Prior to this trip, the longest I'd been away from home was the 10 weeks I spent in Chicago doing summer missions. There were times I felt homesick in Chicago, but the circumstances were different, I had reliable internet, and there was no time difference.  My parents will tell you, though, that I've never been one to get homesick. I think it probably disappointed them a bit when I was younger. I'd show up after children's camp and their excited inquiries of "Did you miss us?!" were met with, "nope!"  As I got older, I learned to amend that answer to "of course!" to assure my poor parents of my need for them.  And in reality, I was always glad to see them when I returned from any trip.  However, they raised me as an independent first child, and as a result I've always enjoyed getting away from home and exercising some of that independence.  For some reason, I've just never been very attached to home. Something in me longed for a new and different place.  I think this desire has, at times, manifested in a disdain for my hometown, especially, but looking back, perhaps that was just a symptom.  I think I've always known that God had somewhere else for me- that Columbus wasn't really my home.

     Having said all this, I must admit: after 7 months in Malawi, I can honestly say that I've experienced homesickness in a way I never had before. But it's mixed with this very real love I have for the place that I am living.  A friend of mine who is studying in London said recently that his homesickness is much more related to people than home itself- that we should call it "people-sick" instead. Admittedly, that sounds quite odd, but I'm realizing more and more how true it is. I don't really miss my house and my stuff back home. In fact, thinking about how big and open my house is makes me a little uncomfortable. But I miss my family. I miss my friends. I miss certain foods. I miss the drive from Clinton to Columbus. But those last two are beside the point, I guess.

     Right about now you are probably wondering to yourself, "Well, what IS the point, Allison? Surely you're not just stating the obvious reality of homesickness."  And you would be correct. So here's the point: (in a roundabout way, of course.)

     Last night I dreamt about going home.  I saw my mom's face and talked to her and was really excited because I had so desperately missed her.  I hugged my dad.  It was great.  Needless to say I was a little disappointed this morning when I woke up.  But you learn that things like that happen, and you just kinda move on. But then, in church today we sang "How Great Thou Art." The last stanza says,
When Christ shall come with shout of acclamation
and take me home, what joy shall fill my heart!
Then I shall bow in humble adoration,
and there proclaim, 'My God, how great Thou art!'

Singing these words, for the first time in my life, I glimpsed what it meant to be homesick for Heaven.  Having experienced the longing here for what I cannot tangibly have right now, I saw the comparison in a new light. Heaven. Home. My real home. The home for which I will always be homesick. And it occurred to me that I can love this Earth and the things and people on it in a very real way. I can feel the attachments here and enjoy being where God has put me, because He has work for me now here, in Malawi, and eventually in some other place.  But I will never be finally home until I'm with Him. That as much as I long to see my family, or even the physical place of Mississippi, my soul longs infinitely more to finally find it's rest with it's Creator and Lover.  This longing is good. It's natural.  It's inevitable.  Heaven- not the physical place, if there is such a thing- but the condition of being forever with my Savior, face to face, veil removed....
Oh, what joy shall fill my heart!  Then I shall bow in humble adoration and there proclaim, "My God! How GREAT Thou art!"

School Days

Hi guys! Someone mentioned wanting to know more about school around here, so I thought I'd dedicate a post to talking about academy life.  For those of you who might not know, I teach 8th, 9th, and 10th grade language arts and literature at African Bible College Christian Academy.  My day starts at 7 and ends at 2:30. The upper school has the longest day- the little kids get out anywhere from noon (Kindergarten and Reception) to 1:15 (6th grade). In the past, the upper school day has ended at 1:30, but this year they decided to extend they day for an additional period, so we now finish at 2:20. The decision to add a 10th grade class is also new, so I'm the first to teach 10th grade World Lit around here. I have to admit, 10th grade is probably the easiest for me to teach. I think this is a fantastic age where students are starting to be old enough to think on higher levels and make some larger connections. I can lecture without losing them entirely, but I can also leave them to do a lot of independent work, and they're totally capable.

My 10th graders always exceed my expectations. They're a really brilliant class of 12 students: 6 guys, 6 girls. We've gained and lost a few over the past semester, but at this point, the guys are Malawian, American, and Norwegian. The girls are a bit more varied- 2 girls are American but have lived in Ecuador most of their lives, 1 is ethnically part Indian, but has lived here most of here life. 1 is American, 1 is Portuguese, and 1 is Norwegian. I think that covers everyone. All this to say- they're a very diverse class. But they get along splendidly. So far we've read Hemmingway's The Old Man and the Sea, where I asked them to think of it as an allegory and write a paper explaining the symbols. They wrote their own journey stories for me, where the main character starts in one place and ends in another (these were quite entertaining), and then we moved on to Lord of the Flies. Overall, they really enjoyed this book.  We talked a lot in this about fear and the nature of man. Are humans inherently evil? What is the author trying to say with this book? Do you agree with him or disagree? The class had a lot of opinions to share on these subjects, and I really enjoyed thinking through it all with them. We then moved on and did a poetry unit, which was fantastic.  90% of the class cared very little for poetry at the beginning of the unit, but by the end, I think they all had a new appreciation for it.  I probably should've read more poetry with them, but I really wanted to get them writing, so we focused a lot on form and style in their own poetry.  I gave it to them as a way to explore their own personal emotions and thoughts. Told them this was a fantastic and creative way to really reflect on what they're thinking and feeling. They all presented final portfolios after Christmas break and I was blown away. I have a class full of poets! We're now reading The Screwtape Letters, which is proving to be a challenge, but is forcing them to stretch themselves a little and to reflect on their own spirituality, which is a neat thing for this age.  One of my students is especially quizzical and is always questioning and challenging what Lewis has to say, which makes for some good class discussion. So that's 10th grade.

My 9th grade class is perhaps even more diverse, with students from Malawi, America, China, Korea, Portugal, Lebanon, and South Africa. This is probably my most diverse class academically, as well. Although they're all very bright, the levels of English vary in this class, which makes things more difficult at times. We've also had 3 students drop out since the beginning of the year, which has been kinda tough. We really miss those guys. This started as my largest class, but is now down to 11 students. My challenge with this class is simply keeping them motivated. They're great kids with a lot of potential, but they tend to want to do the bare minimum. (Of course, I know nothing about that.) It took me a while to warm up to this group, but we've all gotten to know each other now, and we get along grandly. We started the year reading Bruchko, and then moved to Peace Child.  Both of these novels are missionary autobiographies, and really are excellent stories of faith.  This class is less willing to get into deep spiritual discussion, but we were able to really see the gospel and admire the faith of some brave men in those stories. Considering this is also probably my most diverse class in terms of religion, that was a neat experience. Our last book of the first semester was Jules Verne's Around the World in 80 Days.  I wasn't sure what my students would think of it, but they really enjoyed the book- perhaps simply because it was so very different than the previous two they'd read. We had a lot of fun with this book. Right now we're working on Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, which quite frankly, is hilarious. These kiddos aren't overly fond of Shakespeare, but they LOVE laughing at Romeo. They've been highly amused by his declarations of love for Rosaline which were so quickly cut short by his adoration of Juliet. As a side note, they also find it highly amusing to try and set me up with any single men they know. 23 is so old, don't ya know? Obviously I need a husband.

My 8th grade class is made up of 7 girls. 1 from Malawi, 1 from SA, 1 from New Zealand, 1 from Zambia, 1 from America, and 1 who is truly African-American. . Ethnically, they've got a bit of everything, but in reality, most of them have lived here longer than anywhere else, so they have a lot in common.  Now, I have to say, 13 year old girls are not my specialty. This class is a real challenge for me, simply because of their age.  They're great individuals with a lot of excitement and potential. They're smart and beautiful, and I really do love them. I can't wait to see how they each grow up.  I started the year off with The Giver, which is a fantastic book. It's my favorite, and I was excited to read it again with these girls. Whether they wanted to admit it or not, they loved it, and aced the test on it. I was proud of them. :) We then read Treasure Island, which was tough for them.  It's a boyish book, and it had a lot of vocabulary that was unfamiliar to them. We made it through it, though, and they all took something away from the book.  Next on the list was A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens. Again, not an easy read. They did really well with it though, and I think they mostly enjoyed the story.  Because I'm awesome, we watched A Muppets Christmas Carol when we finished reading the book. They weren't overly impressed with the musical nature of the Muppets, but they enjoyed the story and I think the story stuck with them a little better after actually seeing it.  We focus a lot on grammar in this class, because 7th grade somehow missed out on getting a grammar curriculum.  The girls would say it was the bane of their existence, if they knew what that meant. Perhaps I'll teach them that phrase today. As much as they dislike it, though, I'm seeing progress. I encourage you to pray especially for this class's relational dynamics. If you know any 13 year old girls, you know that it's just a hard place to be. These girls are learning a lot about the world and each other, as well as learning about themselves, and that puts a lot of strain on their friendships.

So there ya go! There's a little about my life as an ABCCA teacher. Hope you enjoyed it!