April 18, 2008
fire and shoe polish
Today the ninth grade wrote in-class essays inspired by Mark Twain about experiences that, although painful at the time, are funny to remember. My two favorites were from unexpected sources. The first, son of a locally well-known comedian, hardly ever turns in assignments, and the second is a Chinese student hoping to find another way to improve her English than actually speaking it (seems to be a common problem among that demographic). But here both essays are just as they were handed to me.
The Hot FireThe day that it happent, but before I tell you what happent I have to tell you how it happent. It was on a friaday after school and me and may mom pickt up a friend of mine to spend the weekends. Kevin and I, Kevin is may friends name we love to play commandos and we had all the stuf you needed to be one. We had guns, knifs, walkietalkies we had every thing that you can tink of we even had a tree house. A series or a movie that we loved to watch where Rambo, Knight Rider, and Magaiver. On that friaday we had to help my dad whit some work, and we did it so that we could be free the next day. Before I forget I was only seven years old and Kevin was also seven years old I think. Well the next day Kevin and I looked at the television the hool morning until the evternoon. We looked at Rambo, Magaiver even Chips. So when it was about five in the evternoon Kevin ask me if I whanted to go and play outside. I asked may mother if we could, and she said yes but not near the fire. The gardener Theo, was burning some old leaves and stuf. Outside Kevin was standing on the other side of the fire, and he told me that he was standing in the fire. But I could not see if that was true. So Kevin told me that if I whant to be come a commando like Rambo I had to walk in the fire. And belief it or not, as stupid as I was, I did walk true that fire. And it was so hot I accadently learnd howe to break dance. I was screaming in pain, and I told Kevin to go and get help. Kevin then came back whit a botle of water, and I just started to scream more. Finaly may mom and the gardener heard and came to help me, they brought me to the hospital where I had to tell the docter that I was traing to be like Rambo, and he just started lauving and so whas every body who was there.
--D. B.
Shoe PolishI was very naughty when I was a child. In a summer holiday, I went to my uncle’s home. Uncle Joe was really a strict man, he required me to study and prohibited me to play games and watch TV.
He was always saying that education was the most important thing for a child. I hated him, because he gave me nothing funny but requires. I wanted to make him know I was not a girl without my own mind. I noticed that every morning Auntie Joe prepared everything ready for Uncle. She squeezed the toothpaste tube on the toothbrush before Uncle had waked up.
There was a “good” idea coming into my mind. I saw the white shoe polish in the corner of the room. I wanted to get up early next morning and carried on my great plan. But I got up late that morning. What a terrible thing it was! So I needed to get up early in the next morning.
At 6 o’clock, I got up quietly. I took the white shoe polish to the bathroom, but I was too short to got the toothbrush which was on the bathtable So I needed a chair. Everything that was ok. I squeezed the shoe polish on the toothbrush and back to the bed. But I did not fall in sleep. I wanted to know what would happen.
My uncle got up and then I heard he open the bathroom door. One minute, two minutes…five minutes, nothing happed: Until my uncle left home went to work, I went to the bathroom and found out what happed. Half an hour past, I forgot my practical joke. But when I brushed my teeth, oh, my dear, that was not toothpaste. I squeezed the shoe polish on my own toothbrush!
I was 6 years old that year, but I made a joke on my self, no one knew the shoe polish teast except me!--Y. C.
school | By cw | 9:36 PM
April 16, 2008
Sunday afternoon
marking my days | By cw | 1:52 PM
April 4, 2008
on living for God
Recent news from Suriname here. (English spelling is Surinam, but I always use the Dutch with the e.)
A plane went down yesterday with eighteen passengers, two of whom were children. As far as I've heard, which wasn't very clearly, the plane was coming down to land when the pilot saw another plane on the runway too late, and veered up only to crash into a hill. Since the plane was flying on instrument, the pilot was really not the one at fault. Casualties were total.
The same morning, my eighth graders were reading a true story in class about a plane with twelve people that crashed in the Alps, yet miraculously everyone survived. Today, we opened class in prayer as usual, remembering now the families of the victims and the investigation into the circumstances of the recent crash. Then we proceeded to discuss yesterday's story. Of course, they couldn't help but wonder at the coincidence. This led to discussing the present reality of death and the fact that each day we are alive is a gift, no matter how young or old we are. This makes it all the more imperative to live today for God rather than for self. And then one of the boys in the class said, "But the problem is I don't know how to live for God." As grateful as I felt to hear such a remark in the classroom, I couldn't help thinking in the first moment, "What else have we been trying to teach these kids? What do they think a Christian school is for??" But it is humbling to remember at such a time that no matter how great the accumulation of knowledge a student receives through my efforts as a teacher, it gives him no understanding until the Spirit weighs down upon his heart, and adds no blessing to his life until his heart is consequently enlightened. So how could I follow up on this? As though I could say how to live for God?
The night before, I had been reading through a seventh grade writing assignment entitled "My Interview with Thomas Edison." Most students had more interest in picking out menu items and drinks with Mr. Edison than asking him questions about his life and work. One girl even moved him to modern day, complete with spiked hair and an eye brow piercing, and I'm not positive, but I think that she and Edison hooked up after the interview. However, one student wrote a dialogue concerning the issue of faith as part of her interview. Although it was a tangent from the assignment, I was blown away by the depth of thought and understanding from this twelve year old. She asked Edison about his religious views, to which he replied that although his parents were religious, he himself had little use for it. From a scientific researcher's perspective, Christ is not so easily understood. He found more purpose in turning his mind to things which he could feel out for himself (since Edison was mostly self-educated). I wish I had copied it down, but I was up against a wall to turn them back today, so I'll just cut to what I can best remember. She explained that she herself struggled with similar hang-ups about the Bible, but has found that faith is necessary for understanding love, which is more essential to life than anything, just as the source of life and love is. (I may be adding my own inductions here, but that was her general point.)
So when confronted with the dilemma of how one lives for God, what can I say but that it takes your whole life to learn how to love something other than yourself? Keep seeking Christ out, knowing he's the only way there. Seek him in prayer. Seek him in counsel. Seek him in the Word. Answers so often repeated, but the only ones that don't lead to the pitfalls of hypocrasy and formalism, which were, by the way, part of the twelfth grade's discussion today over our reading from Pilgrim's Progress.
school | By cw | 3:39 PM
March 9, 2008
"Desperate Moments"
Good news this week--the sixth grade teacher found his way back to Suriname on Wednesday, so we were all quite relieved to have him back in school the following day.
Quarter finals are not only over (the most boring two days of my life!) but they are also graded!! Not all by me, though. Here is one of the best essays from the ninth grade, entitled Desperate Moments using at least ten Latin vocabulary words to "write about an accident (either an aircraft crashing or a boat stranding) describing your, as well as other survivors' struggle for survival."
Desperate MomentsAn aircraft crashed in 1980, and there were only two survivors. I and Ben were faced with torment and were exposed. Both of us had to go on an interview in Europe, but that was no longer possible. The aircraft crashed because there was a great snow storm. We crashed in the middle of no where. All we saw was snow. Ben walked for five hours trying to find help. He finally met a man who was a scientist. Ben made arrangements, and asked for permission to stay in his penthouse. Ben came back for me with a helicopter, because I injured my leg. When we got back the scientist told us stories of his country that was fertile in wheat. He also told us, that he was a convert, who became a Christian. The scientist took us to a near by island. Ben and I went to a hospital to fix our injuries. When we were healed, we took a ferry and went to our interview. I was employed, but Ben was not. He became invidious and never spoke to me again. Ben left me and I had a job; however, I only had one leg.
school | By cw | 7:16 PM
March 2, 2008
God cares for you
Today was “girl’s day” at the Mohamed house. I agreed to do hair and make-up in exchange for a massage, but instead got my hair and make-up done. Oh, well…pictures here.
Nalini told us about a Surinamese cops story that came to a climactic conclusion right in their street. It all started the night before last when the director of the new cellular company, Digicel, was on his way to dinner at one of Suriname's upper end restaurants. Unfortunately, the restaurant appeared to be closed, but outside was a group of men up to no good. They forced him into a car and sped away, apparently with the intention of holding him for ransom. Somehow, the cops were notified, and started tailing the kidnappers. As the chase continued, more and more cop cars joined in and finally managed to shoot the car's tires out. The chase ended on Cheron Straat where the driver fled the vehicle. I don’t know how many were involved in this or whether some got away, but I do know that one of them ran behind the empty house next door to the Mohameds where the cops sent off a volley of gunshots till it was certain he was dead. This happened around three in the morning, and of course, woke the whole street with the commotion. The man who was kidnapped is fine now, and does not see himself in especial danger since he believes that he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Nalini said that although she wishes her family didn’t have to be exposed to such things at home, she appreciates the fact that such crimes are not taken lightly here as they are in Guyana, where the crime rate is much higher since the lives of criminals are in no threat from the police regardless of how such people endanger the lives of others.
Continue reading "God cares for you"
| By cw | 7:38 PM
February 17, 2008
25
It has been a very rainy end to a sunny week. Yesterday, no one came for art class due to illness, inclement weather, etc. So AG and I used the time to mount everyone's still life drawings from last semester on the library wall. I thought about putting them up in the classroom at first, but everyone warned me that it wouldn't last two hours without getting defaced. I'm excited about the students seeing their work on display tomorrow.
I had a nice birthday on Tuesday. LV had strung up fifty balloons in front of my door, which kind of scared me when I came out of my room in the morning. Then there were more hanging from the lights in the common room. The night before I had heard one pop in his room, but when I asked if everything was OK, he said he had dropped a textbook, so I didn’t think anything of it. He also got me a white board, just as I told him to do, which is part of my endeavor to become a better, happier, and primarily more organized teacher…and person. FK got me a beautiful bouquet of tropical flowers that were sitting on the counter along with a little porcelain jewelry case. I got a number of other nice pretty things, but it would get boring to list them all out here.
The tenth graders brought food for the last period of the day to throw me a surprise party. One of them came into my class exclaiming, “MISS! Ana Lisa is outside hurling ALL OVER THE PLACE! She’s REALLY sick! You have to come! NOW!” Knowing this student’s reputation for dramatic flare, I grew suspicious as she dragged me outside by the arm. For once, I didn’t take away any cell phones being used as cameras for the occasion. The whole class had put together for a cake, a pan of tiramisu, Indonesian custard, plus the usual rice-chicken-noodle fare. Besides presenting me with a very big birthday card and taking pictures, no one had planned anything to do, so I taught them how to play pictionary, which we played a few rounds of before the bell rang, and I had to go give some make-up tests in the office.
I waited till yesterday to put together a party at home since so many people were down with the flu this week. AM spent the night and we made blintzes in the morning for a breakfast crowd of fifteen (including five kids, some of whom ate the crepe and left the filling). It was one of those times when I wasn’t organized at all about it, but with a little help from my friends, everything came together perfectly. Mr. P. came in last night, so he got a blintz, too.
All in all, I’m looking forward to seeing what God had planned for me in year twenty-five.
marking my days | By cw | 8:11 PM
