Year One of Teaching: CHECK!

Year One of Teaching: CHECK!

Written on 6/28/2015

Last week Tuesday I taught my last classes of the year! It was a sense of great accomplishment to have some students understand what I was saying in English without me having to translate. But more than anything, It was a great accomplishment to know that I stuck around and taught them when things got tough, and I know that they are at least a little thankful of the experience they've had this year.

For my last class, I mixed review with a little bit of fun. I had the students do exercises and if they got the answer write when they were chosen to write on the board, they got to ask a question (in Malagasy or English) about me and America. It was fun to share a bit more about myself and my culture with my class. And they had fun reviewing, which can always be a little challenging - especially with the energizing anticipation of Independence Day keeping their brains away from the classroom.

I answered some typical questions, such as: how old am I? How many brothers and sisters do I have? What are my siblings and parents names? But I also had some interesting and thought provoking questions.

For example, one student asked if the education was the same in America. I explained the different levels of education. What they found most interesting was that when you get to the middle school and high school level, the students travel from class room to classroom. Here, the students are stationary and the teachers of different subjects rotate in the different classrooms.

Another fun question was if everyone in America looks like me and my site mate Charlotte (white, blonde, blue-eyed). I got to explain a little bit more about America's history, and how its the same as Madagascar really. People from all different countries come to live in America, just as people from all different countries came to live in Madagascar. So some people are from Africa (even Malagasy people!), Europe, Asia, South America. Just like people in Madagascar are of mixed origins, so are Americans! It was fun to explain the diversity and have the students be excited that there are Malagasy people in America.

The last thing I did was tell the students to keep studying hard and make sure they open their notebooks and read the lessons outside of class to prepare for the exams. I then told them that next year, when they go onto the next level, they are always welcome to ask me for help in English if they need it. The students cheered and looked happy that even though technically my time teaching them is over, it isn't really over!

It was nice to feel that little bit of appreciation for teaching them. And now, I just have about 300 exams to grade.....

Girl Scout to PCV

Girl Scouts Shaped who I am.

Written on 6/25/2014

I was looking at my TimeHop App (an app that shows things you've posted on social media for the past years on the same day), and I saw that two years ago today, I was attending Girl Scout Camp as an adult volunteer for the last time before I set sail on my Peace Corps journey.

When I look back as my time as a Girl Scout, I am extremely grateful for all that Girl Scouts has taught me. The slogan of Girl Scouts is "Where Girls Grow Strong" and I know that one of the roots of my strength can be attributed to my years as a scout.

In Girl Scouts, I learned so much more than how to build fires, arch arrows, sew quilts, sell cookies, and all the other activities that filled my vest with badges. I learned skills that have helped me thrive in life, and as a Peace Corps Volunteer. Earning badges taught me that learning can happen in a million different ways, and that some things are easier to learn than others. I learned that mistakes are okay, and recognizing mistakes is not only important, but necessary to improve yourself and your situation.

Organizing events and selling cookies were cornerstones in my success in education and pushed me to grasp leadership positions because I knew I could handle them. I remember planning for the World Fair (where each troop picked a country to research and showcase in a booth) and being so excited that my ideas were heard and acted upon. We went to the library and combed through all the countries different books. We researched a country, picked an activity, and planned entire booth. Our ideas were never shot down, but shaped into possibilities. Our imaginations were never squandered but encouraged. We weren't called bossy, we weren't talked over. We were heard and shown our voices were important. We were given a space not only to learn, but to thrive.

My excitement preparing for small events like the next meeting or big events like a cookie selling both, World Fair, or Girl Scout camp, motivated me to keep planning and keep raising my hand to share my ideas.

The leaders I had throughout my time as a Girl Scout, most notably my mother, taught me that my gender doesn't hold me in limitations. The possibilities are endless. Through Girl Scouts, I met so many strong women that have inspired me to become who I am today. Being surrounded by Strong women that encouraged me to follow my dreams and helped me feel comfortable to grow in which ever way I chose and I am forever grateful for that.

I remember going to camp after a really difficult week and being surrounded by these wonderful, hardworking, strong, caring women filled me with so much love. With all these strong women around me, I felt safe. And that's what kept me coming back to Girl Scouts even after my years as a Scout had ended. I wanted to give back to the organization and the women that made me feel important, loved, and helped me grow into the strong woman I am today.

Most importantly though, I learned the value of volunteering. Sharing your time with others is the most valuable way to donate. Peace Corps is an extension of that very valuable lesson for me. Each day I spend here I am reminded that my time is important and my mothers tragic passing has showed me how important every day is.

My volunteerism throughout the years has brought me so much happiness and feelings of success. Helping change something or someone through spending time cleaning the streets, spending time with someone in a nursing home, helping someone pick out no-cost Christmas gifts for their children, or teaching younger girls how to build a fire..(among other amazing things) is not only a wonderful thing to experience while growing up, but a wonderful way to grow. And grow strong.

Twelve things for twelve months

12 months..12 cool things.

Written on 6/11/2015

I've been reflecting a lot about having spent my first year in the Peace Corps, and although its been very tough...positive (and really cool) things happened this year too. So I made a list.. of twelve of them.

1. I learned a new language and people actually understand me now.

2. I've taught roughly 250 children the first level of English.

3. I've helped get around 10 (and counting) people access to life-changing surgeries with my sitemate Charlotte and her work with Operation Smile and Mercy Ships.

4. I jumped off a mountain.

5. I held a python and a chameleon.

6. I had multiple lemurs sit on my shoulder.

7. I ran a 10K.

8. Helped run two Malaria Awareness festivals, one in a near by community and one in my own.

9. I went body surfing in the Indian Ocean.

10. Learned how to make rice...but seriously it hasn't been easy.

11. Realized I am a hell-of-a-lot stronger than I thought I was.

12. Made my mother really proud.

There is bound to be another year of amazing things ahead of me!

One Year in Country. I got this.

One Year in Country. I got this.

Written on 6/9/2015

A year ago today my adventure officially started. It was no longer just an idea, a dream, a thing that was about to happen. It was happening. I finished packing my bags and made my way to Philadelphia for staging.

It's been a whirlwind of a year. So much has happened that I can't believe its only been a year.

I'd love to spend my day reminiscing about all the life-changing events that I've experienced living abroad in this beautiful country in this past year, but more than anything, I keep thinking that a year ago today I gave my mother a hug for the last time...

I keep thinking that If I would've known, would I have gotten on that plane? Of course not. I never would've let go. But that wouldn't have been a life worth living. You can't hold on to everything and everyone as tight as possible in the fears that if you leave, if you let go, it might be letting go for the last time.

My mom wouldn't have wanted that for me. Instead, I spent my year making small, beautiful, inspiring changes in my community. And I know that's something she was and would be proud of.

I know this next year will not be easy, if there is anything the last six months without my beautiful mother has taught me, its that the pain that comes with grief never goes away. There will always be times I wish I could talk to my mother, that I reach for my phone to send her a message and remember she isn't there to receive it.

But at the same time, in these past six months, I have exceeded the limits of strength I thought I held. I always knew I was a strong individual, but continuing on with the life I'm living with the hurt I feel, I never would've thought I could do this. And I am doing it. Every day.

It hasn't been easy, of course. I've learned that giving myself time to reflect and be sad has been important, but more importantly, focusing on small goals has been helpful. Sometimes its just as simple of getting out of bed, going to the market, teaching my classes. Focusing on what I'm doing right now, everyday, instead of wondering how I'm possibly going to do this for another year, is helpful. If I can get through today, I can get through a thousand more tomorrows. If I can get through this week, I can get through a hundred more weeks.

And planning for my future has also been therapeutic. It's easy to get caught up in what's going on now but looking to the future and knowing that at some point I'll be reflecting back to this moment is helpful. Right now, I'm studying for the GRE, in the hopes to go to Grad School a year after I return and receive my master's in Public Administration so I can return to development work in a leadership position.

These next few years are not going to be easy. But if this past year has taught me anything, it's that I can do this! Here's to another year, however tough it is, of beautiful Madagascar. Here's to another year (and the many more years to come) of making my mother proud.

Do you have your papers?

Do you have your papers?

Written on 6/9/2015

Happened on 6/5/2015

Last week Thursday, while I was in Tamatave (a big port city up the coast), I was stopped by the immigration police.

True to form, when stopped at first, I was immediately sassy. To be fair, the law enforcement has cat called and creeped before. Also, the group of official looking individuals (in blue bottoms and white tops) looked like any casual group of higher ups taking a stroll through Tamatave after their lunch break. There was one male officer and a group of females were walking a few feet behind him.

He started walking toward us, chest up, and speaking what I only heard as a creepy cat call in French. He just kept following us and saying things in French. Because I don't know French very well, I only understood that he wanted to stop to talk to us and I assumed he was just being a creep. I replied in the only French I know, "Je suis American. Je ne parle pas Francais, azafady." (I am American. I don't speak french. Sorry).

That was a response he wasn't happy with apparently and he started speaking in intense Malagasy saying we shouldn't speak to him that way and that he was immigration police looking for our papers....woooooooops.

Of course I immediately apologized and said we had just been "talked to" (aka whistled at) by a group of security guards near by and thought it was happening again because we don't know French. He seemed to understand my confusion, and my Malagasy (or at least he thought I was flirting with him and laughed off my initial sass).

He asked for our paperwork, but my friend and I didn't have it. We typically only carry around our paperwork at night because that's when the immigration people are usually out and have stopped us before. I explained to him that we have already lived here for a year and have never been stopped during the day so we left our paperwork at the hotel because we know there are many pickpocketers in Tamatave and didn't want our very important paperwork stolen.

He seemed to understand and said it was no problem but next time we should really carry around our papers because we could be put in jail for not having them (although as long as we had our phones we could call Peace Corps Madagascar's security officer and be okay).

Then he continued to ask me if I was married, had children, had a boyfriend, had a gasy boyfriend, how old I was, if I wanted a boyfriend.........

So wait, did he ever really need my papers?

ANYWAYS, After the incident, a new volunteer who was with us (and had his paperwork) said, "Wow, that really makes me understand how stupid Arizona's laws on immigration are!" At first, I had to think about it (it's been a while since I've been in the loop on American politics), but stopping someone for looking like an immigrant really is an insulting law. It really got me thinking.

In America, if we were there as immigrants, would we be expected to have our paperwork at all times? How frustrating would it be to constantly be stopped by the police for appearing to be an immigrant. Especially considering the diverse population of America, it could basically come down to stopping anyone who isn't white. Which is basically the definition of systematic racism considering even white people can be immigrants... in fact, there are people of every race who were born in America, and many whose families have lived there for generations and who are immigrants.

These are all facts I new before being stopped and asked if I had my paperwork... but it put a fresh perspective on what its like to be an immigrant (or apparently to look like an immigrant) in America or any other country with oddly unwelcoming immigration laws.

Beyond other things, systematic racism is an aggressively oppressive problem in America and should be considered in the making of every law. An important part of making an equal, welcoming, law system would be having a governmental body that more accurately represents the diversity of genders, races, ethnicities, religions, sexualities... in America.

JUST SAYING.

Unbearable Lightness by Portia de Rossi Review

Unbearable Lightness, A Story of Loss and Gain by Portia De Rossi

Written on 6/12/2015

Shout out to Rachel for sending me this book! :)

De Rossi wrote a brave and inspiringly honest book about her battle with disordered eating and her identity. She wrote it to help herself heal and to help others realize they aren't alone. That, in itself, makes this book worth reading.

By writing this book De Rossi makes a strong point that anyone can have disordered eating. Its not a disease saved for the famous, the beautiful models, or the exceptionally wealthy. Importantly, she talks about the difference between disordered and ordered eating. Ordered eating means eating when you're hungry and stopping when you are full. Its eating for enjoyment, for health, eating to sustain life. Disordered eating is an obsession about food. Restriciting your diet to foods that are good and foods that are bad. Ignoring bodily signs of hunger and fullness. That its important to be in tune with you body and to give it what it needs.

But, this book also could just as easily be seen as a novel about the pressures to be accepted, to be the best, to feel love.

De Rossi worried that she did fit in from a young age and worked hard to be exceptional so that people would look past her innormalities. After recieving fame, she realized that too often, "The preception of who you are is more important than who you are. You are what other people think of you."

So De Rossi decided she wanted to be the best, the prettieset, the thinnest. It wasn't until she realized that being that meant losing her life that she realized she didn't need to be the best. She only needed to be better than you used to be, by making small changes everyday to become who you really are.

Lastly, De Rossi talks about love. The importance of loving yourself, loving others, and loving who you want to love. In this novel, De Rossi speaks about her feeling of unacceptance towards her sexuality, from herself, from her family, from the general public. She was so afraid people would discover she was gay that she hid from any form of love.

When she finally became honest with others and herself, love was ultimately a big part of her healing process. She says, "healing comes from love. And loving every living thing in turn helps you love yourself."

Sugar, That Sweet Poison

Sugar...that sweet poison.

Written on 6/1/2015

A few weeks ago I read an article that is still freaking me out. It was in National Geographic, SUGAR (a not so sweet story) by Rich Cohen. What it revealed; Sugar is slowly killing us all. It's basically poison.

So it seems simple, just decrease the amount of sugar you consume. And, there's where I started to freak out. Checking the labels of my products from home, I saw that EVERYTHING HAS SUGAR. Even thinking that your are having sugary things "in moderation" is often still exceeding the FDA approved amount of sugar per day, about 25 grams.

Don't believe me? An apple cider mix for an 8 oz mug of hot apple cider = 20 grams of sugar. One tablespoon of Nutella = 17g. A Nature's Bounty Oatmeal and Honey granola bar = 12g.

But why is something that is "naturally" found so bad for us. According to the article, at one point during human evolution, our species lived in an area covered in fruits. We ate fruit, and there for sugar, regularly to keep us going. Then, a drought eliminated the plentiful amount of fruits and our ancestors that survived were ones that could slowly metabolize fruit and store it into fat. The adaption caused us to decrease the amount of sugar we consume to a very limited amount, but our addiction to the sweet things around us still grows stronger.

There is too much sugar. In everything. This extreme sugar intake is a likely cause of many diseases in the modern world: heart disease, cancer, and as we know, diabetes..just to name a few. A big part of the problem is processed sugar. Its already so easy for us to digest that our pancreas can't keep up and filter what we don't need out. So its goes quickly from our stomach to our pancreases to fat. And because there is no nutrients being absorbed, we feel lethargic, which causes a lack of exercise, which causes us to become overweight, which causes disease.

Its not just the fat content of a food like we've been repeatedly told. In fact, things with "low" fat, often have high levels of sugar to make them taste better. So, as stated in the article, we are eating things that don't taste as good to be healthy, and by doing that we are actually eating things that are really bad for us, and still don't taste as good. GREAT.

See why this whole sugar thing is stressing me out? I try, admittedly I could try harder, to take care of my body. I try to eat smaller portions of fresher, healthier food. But I never knew sugar was so bad. And now that I know, I'm not even sure how to decrease my intake to below 25 grams a day. I could only eat the most natural of things, which seems easy enough.

But the problem I have is that sugar is delicious and I love it. Should I give up something that I love now to make sure I'll live an extended healthy life? Or keep eating it because, hey, its tastes good...great... and you only live once.

I suppose it all comes back to balance just like everything else. Do I really need to put sugar in my coffee or tea? Do I need a coca-cola? No. Is it okay to indulge in a sugary delight like ice cream occasionally? I think so. I suppose being aware of the sugar problem we all face was just another reminder that its important to take care of yourself and know what you are consuming.

So, it seems, its less about deprivation entirely, but more about restraint. Not eating a entire bag of Twizzler's in one sitting. Not just "in moderation" but only occasionally in manageable amounts.

Although, I can't help but wonder if I could go a day, or maybe even a week avoiding sugar (excluding sugar in fruit). Especially here, it seems simple enough. Vegetables and fruits are inexpensive and easily available to me. I cook for myself almost every day. Maybe a sugar-free week will be a blog post yet to come.

I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou Review

I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou

Written on 6/1/2015

Maya Angelou's main characters are just like all of us, they are complex. They cannot be summed up with a single phrase or idea. Her writing reveals layers of overlapping identities that make us all who we are. They highlight the complicated and confusing intersections of our identities. No one person's identity can fit into a single box, and Angelou's truthful interpretation of life confusing events is inspiring.

Marguerite Johnson, the main character of I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, is complicated. Her trials and tribulations take the reader on a path of what it was like to grow up as a young black woman in the 1950s. But its not just that simple, in the 200(ish) pages of this novel, Marguerite survives a sexual assault, struggles with the confusing time of puberty, questions her sexuality, lives with a group of homeless teens for a month...the list could go on and on. I think every person reading this novel would grasp on to something different.

For me, the main idea of this novel was this struggle with identities. The identities we are connected to, the ones we wish we had, and the ones that were forced upon us. As the chapters float by, Marguerite is discovering her identity one page at a a time, and the reader is right in the confusion of who Marguerite is with her. This novel was about the inevitable experience of growing up and discovering who you are.

And, as we all know, its not all rainbows and butterflies. It takes a lot of strength and perseverance to grow up and become yourself. Angelou puts it fairly perfectly into words;

"To be left alone on the tightrope of youth unknowing is to experience the excruciating beauty of full freedom and the threat of eternal indecision. Few, if any, survive their teens. Most surrender to the vague but murderous pressure of adult conformity. It becomes easier to die and avoid conflicts than to maintain a constant battle with the superior forces of maturity"

Growing up, sometimes you succumb to the boxes we are told to put ourselves in so we make more sense to the world. When, we all know, who are are doesn't make any sense. But even within the boxes, like a bird in a cage, we can still find hope to express ourselves. We can still sing.