Déjà Vu?

Our second day in Bangalore was so busy I actually heard my bed cry out, “Aeriale!” at its conclusion. It was perfect, though! The activities included an enlightening school visit with a lively, honest debriefing; an introduction to the Indian school system by our lovely and smart hosts from The Teacher Foundation; a talk about the history, culture and politics of India by former Indian ambassador to UNESCO, Chiranjiv Singh, who is a genius; a successful shopping trip (I bought a sari!) and another delicious Indian dinner.

I have pages and pages of notes. The journey could end here and I’d have enough material to post on this blog for months. I’m obsessed with so many of the topics we discussed today – high quality instruction, history, culture, colonialism, decolonization, etc., etc. And I really want to share the heartening small moments I experienced during our school visit. (It was such a wonderful experience I actually got chills!) I, however, think I’ll start with what we learned about the Indian school system.

As I wrote yesterday, our hosts are very open and forthcoming about the challenges India faces. Their presentation of the school system was equally rooted in hope and concern. They introduced us to the structure of the Indian school system, including the roles of the union (federal) and state governments and public and private schools. Some facts (and perhaps some could be interpreted as opinions) that resonated were:

  • The union government’s expenditure on education is 3.8% of the GDP in India ($140 per child per annum) compared to the federal government’s 5.2% of GDP in the US ($12,401 per child per annum).
  • The number of private schools is increasing astronomically causing the “systematic emptying of government schools, even in rural areas.”
  • Education is a fundamental right protected by law for children ages 6-14 and is the government’s attempt at “social reengineering” to combat the effects of the caste system, which is legally abolished but still exists.
  • Most Indian schools are simply “coping with poorer kids.”
  • Language is the single most divisive factor in Indian education.
  • There is a huge shortage of teachers in India due to the systematic undermining of the profession and disempowerment of teachers, including poor remuneration and lack of teacher voice in policy making.
  • Many teachers are inadequately trained both pre and inservice. Professional development is required, but often just skims the surface of what teachers actually need and is not ongoing or classroom-embedded thus ineffective.
  • The Indian school system has a systemic absence of vision, purpose, and urgency. There is a culture of convenience wherein schools are not action-oriented and fail to create collaborative, professional environments.

This information resonated with me for a reason. What do you think, US colleagues? Does any of this sound familiar? I don’t want to lead the witness, so I’ll just leave this here for now and wait for your comments below. Reflections later. . .

 

 

Advertisements

Bangalore: Reflections on Day One

I spent the majority of my first day in Bangalore exploring the back of my eyelids. After two long flights and near hour-long drive, we arrived at our hotel in the wee hours. I thought I’d collapse, but instead I tossed and turned in bed until I did what any good American would under the circumstances:  I watched the Indian equivalent of QVC. That 10-function chopper-dicer-slicer thingy was really tempting, but I managed not to pick up the phone. I eventually did slip into slumber as the sun rose at the start of a new day.

Ding dong. It was the doorbell that woke me up at 10 AM, two hours after breakfast began. I thought it might be my fellow travelers beckoning me to join them on an adventure, but it was a kind man asking if I had any laundry for him to do today. I didn’t, but I decided I’d like for someone to stop by and ask me that question every day in Kalskag! Any takers?

Since I’d missed breakfast, I decided I might as well sleep until my body woke up, which was when the same man rang the doorbell to offer cleaning services, after lunch and just before I needed to attend our opening session. I hurriedly showered and just barely made it before the first speaker began. So. . .yes, on the other side of the world, I’m still Aeriale. Sleep trumps food; I’m on CP time.

Our opening session and dinner were delightful gatherings chockfull of intriguing information and intimate conversations. As I returned to my room, I found myself excited for tomorrow because I want more! We talked about so much in our formal classroom setting and informally around the table of delicious food. But there was a common thread in all of our interactions:  honesty. Our brilliant host from The Teacher Foundation set the tone by presenting India to us as a set of paradoxes. She, for example, discussed how Indians are incredibly clean when it comes to their bodies, meticulous even, but some cities are incredibly filthy. As she spoke about her country, I could hear both how much she loves India and how much hope she has that it will outgrow itself, becoming a better place for all of its citizens. She didn’t mince words and her straightforwardness set us all free to continue speaking with veracity during dinner.

Racism. Police brutality. Politics. Colonialism. Being biracial. LGBT, “hey, don’t leave out the Q!” issues. No topic seemed to be off limits on our side of the table. It was glorious. If all Americans were having the kind of open and honest dialogue my cohort had tonight, we could solve many of the problems we face. If we allowed one another to express our frustrations – and, yes, even anger – with the paradoxes of our country without crying, “unpatriotic!”, we might be able show some empathy. If instead of listening to respond, we listened to one another just for the sake of listening and continued to listen over time to understand, we might just be one nation under (no) God(s) – whatever your personal convictions are.

I am not perfect. India is not perfect. The United States of America is not perfect. We all have some incredible strengths and plenty of room for improvement. The truth is that every human being is an individual paradox existing within collective ones as citizens of our nations and the world. I personally believe we’d all be better off if we ultimately gave ourselves and others the freedom to embrace the reality that perhaps our truths are not dichotomous after all, but spectral. Let us empower one another to move toward whichever end brings us all our own beauty for ashes, whichever end is humane. . .whichever end is love.

 

Pura Vida: A Journey Through Costa Rica and Into Myself

Travel. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the many trips on which I’ve been and those I hope to take. Many factors have contributed to my thoughts. Facebook reminds me daily of where I was on this day in history. This time last year, I was watching the sun set in Oia. I’m still trying to catch my breath.

11221502_10153366227314962_3900464688875456790_o

I’m also currently in the midst of a summer full of domestic and international travel. From California to India, and many places in between, I’m racking up the frequent flyer miles in 2016. My current passport expires late next year and I’m determined to hit Australia and South America before I begin a brand new ten year journey around the world. Ten years, six continents. I’m not sure that’s the title of a travel writing bestseller, but I do like the way it sounds.

Some folks find fulfillment in quilting, playing sports, expensive possessions, and many other things. Me, I need to slide my feet into my Birks, throw on my backpack (or in the case of a three months long trip, drag my gargantuan suitcase), and hit the open road. Travel fuels me. Anticipating it is one of the things that gives me the energy to push through difficult times. Today might be rough, but soon I’ll be hiking through a rainforest, standing in awe of an artistic masterpiece, or exploring a historical site. Or perhaps I’ll be feeding my soul while meditating in my ancestral home.

10400468_86096134961_4093923_n

The act of traveling is indeed invigorating! The older I get, however, the more I realize that it is the inner journey, that both leads me to travel and is a direct result of my travels, that empowers me most. I don’t travel solely to be a tourist who sees and does really neat things, though that’s a part of it. But I travel more so because I have chosen to be a citizen of the world. I travel to discover the breadth and depth of nature and humanity. Consequently, on these journeys I learn a whole lot about Aeriale such as:

  1. I am both fortunate and unfortunate because, as an American, I have infinitely more than I need. This should influence my everyday life more than it does.
  2. My identity – every nuance of it – matters. I should spend more time thinking about what every aspect of my identity means to me and how they collectively and individually shape how I exist in the world. I do know that I have more power over my own life than most people throughout the world who look like me. This should compel me to take more action to empower them and on their behalf.
  3. Speaking of identity, I am SUCH A TEACHER. No matter how hard I try, I cannot turn it off. I trip over a branch in a rainforest and I instantly take a photograph because I see a math lesson in the patterns of its leaves. And why shouldn’t being a teacher influence my travels and vice versa?
  4. I am kind. . .and strong. Contrary to popular belief, these characteristics are not mutually exclusive. I need to continue to work on achieving just the right balance in my daily life.
  5. I am a much better version of myself when I spend an adequate amount of time in communion with the natural world. I love nature. I love how it compels me to engage all of my senses to truly experience it. I love how nature calls me to stillness, which forces me to think deeply.
  6. I hope that I will one day have someone special with whom I can share some of my travels. I am not lonely. I love to travel alone for many reasons. However, since being a world traveler and global citizen is one of my defining characteristics, I need to learn to share this part of myself with that one guy. . . Does anyone know who/where he is?

This is not an exhaustive list (I don’t need to tell y’all everything), but it covers a lot of what I’ve been pondering while I’ve been in Costa Rica. #costarica2016 has been an incredible journey. I am thankful for experiences like having to run away from a monkey who was throwing things at me from the top of a tree. I am also thankful for the brilliant conversation about cross-cultural relationships I had with a Costa Rican last night. Most of all, though, I am thankful for how every part of being here caused me to get a little closer to myself and discover the capacities of my heart, mind and. . .sometimes. . .my asthmatic lungs!

Pura vida, indeed.

13403959_10154318949124962_7011979705167104899_o

Killing Me Softlier

Nearly eleven years ago, I was purging, selling, and packing up my life in Florida to begin anew in America’s Last Frontier. That single decision has changed my life’s trajectory and me in ways I couldn’t have visualized then. I had a little background knowledge and even fewer experiences. I moved above the Arctic Circle and I had never even seen snow! This is the kind of thing I do. It’s my shtick. I like to call it pulling an Aeriale. I discover something that piques my interest and chase after it with all my might without considering the potentially negative consequences until I’ve crossed the finish line, after I’ve already said yes.

I’ve pulled many Aeriales over the past decade and every single time, I recycle the same emotions, though with a bit more maturity each time. I wrote the blog post below on July 29, 2005. As I revisited it tonight, I thought, “yep. That’s it right there! Not quite as intense, but that IS it.”

As I prepare to embark on the last leg of my journey as a TGC Fellow and my newest adventure as a Heinemann Fellow this summer, I can’t help but be uncomfortable with leaving my comfort zone. Today I read an article about India’s current extreme temperatures and imagined my Alaskan body sprawled out on the ground, half dead, while the brilliant folks in my cohort shook their heads. I’ve pored over my Heinemann Fellow application ad naseum since I got the invitation call wondering why they selected me, asking myself if I’m worthy. I agonize over these thoughts until my body is in distress and I become. . .sad.

At this stage in life, I know it’s just fear manifesting itself as anxiety and depression. As a vagabond, it is my plight. Perpetual movement and constant growth require that you bulldoze yourself sometimes in order to expand. I also know, without doubt, this too shall pass. My life is about to change for the better, in ways I am presently unable to visualize. I’m going to have to tear some old things down in order to give rise to the new. And I will because I want it. Whatever it is. . .

Eleven years from now, I hope I’ve pulled many Aeriales and that doing so continues to kill me a little “softlier” each time.

(I hope you can endure my e.e. cummings phase below. . .)

killing me softly

july 29, 2005

overwhelmed. yes, boys and girls, that is the word of the day, the week, no actually, the month. my equilibrium is off. i am suffering from emotional vertigo. save some sort of divine intervention, i am undoubtedly about to tumble gracefully into the doldrums. it is not so much the leaving, for that was my choice, but the stress of the process of changing that has catapulted me into an abyss of sadness.

as an experienced special educator with undergraduate and graduate level training, i am privy to the symptoms of a myriad of disorders. such knowledge makes one a clinician who is apt to diagnose both others and self. i’ve labeled myself with just plain crazy disorder. it’s a combination of adhd, acute anxiety, and a heart that’s empathic to a fault. generally, people with such issues need to have structure in their lives. though this is mostly true for me, in an apparent attempt to make reparations for inflicting me with emotional disturbances, the cosmos gave me a brain that i love, the kind that requires continuous stimulation. hence i am in a perpetual predicament: in order to prevent enduring the misery of intellectual ennui, i must suffer the ephemeral pain of demolishing and rebuilding my life’s structure. me, myself and i are currently in the demolition phase. and it’s killing me softly.

in a nutshell, it is not the change itself that vexes. it is the process of disconnecting, trading old for new, familiarity for the unknown, stagnancy for kinesis (and jon stewart for going away gatherings) that is so painful.