Night Safari - tracking lions!

I've learned that anyone who goes on a safari hopes to catch sight of some lions. Watching lions under the cover of darkness, as they chase off a hyena in it attempt to steal their fresh kill, now that is what I call a lucky moment! Here is a video of just what we saw as my new friends and I waited, in the dark, on the outskirts of a thicket of trees at Madikwe Game Park. Johnny, our driver, had tracked three lions and brought us, just as the sun sank below the horizon, to the spot where they had dragged and partially eaten a wildebeest. My heart raced, and I couldn't stop the smile from spreading across my face as we witnessed this moment, sitting less than a hundred feet away in an open jeep...

(beware: the quality of this movie is not even close to oscar worthy, but it is pretty exciting!) 

International Food Festival

September 16, 2011

I don’t like seafood, I am not a huge fan of cheese, I’ll send back anything with mayonnaise or ranch dressing, forget about cream cheese or sour cream, and if it is pink inside – it better go back on the grill. I’m a picky eater. Everyone knows it and tries to encourage it out of me. I must say, despite the lack of credit given to me, I have made great advances in the world of culinary taste testing over the last couple of years. All this growth I have made was matched and exceeded at the International Food Festival today. The empty plate given to me as I entered the gymnasium was piled high with samplings of food from at least a dozen countries! If I do say so myself, in regard to growing less picky, I succeeded with flying colors!

In conjunction with the Parade of Nations, families from almost all 83 countries prepared traditional dishes for the AISJ International Food Festival. Spread across the entire gymnasium, tables were culturally decorated and topped with side dishes, main course, and deserts. It was incredible – the smells were divine, the options endless, and the plates weighted with more food than any one person EVER needs to eat: German chocolate cake, American turkey and chocolate chip cookies, Belgium waffles, Japanese sushi, South African milk tarts and biltong, Mexican tortillas and salsa, Indian samoosas, English scones, Hungarian sausages, Pakistani curried stew, Israeli falafels and hummus, Swedish meatballs, and so much more. Table after table of international cuisine that tempted and satisfied even the pickiest of eaters!

Following the smorgasbord, walking back to my class, I contemplated rolling down the hill because it would be easier than carrying my weighted load. Only two other times in my life am I ever that full: Thanksgiving and Christmas. The only thing that would make this Food Festival better would be if it repeated itself weekly!  

Parade of Nations

September 16, 2011

Walking down the hall towards my classroom this morning, I was greeted with the sound of good ol’ country music blaring from Sam’s iPod player in her classroom next door. With a big smile on my face and a feeling of home, I danced into her room belting out the lyrics! We both started dancing, and her “early to arrive” student stared at us like we were nuts! Dressed in cowboy boots and I in my red,white, and blue – we continued to dance like proud Americans!

Today was AISJ’s Parade of Nations – a day where students and staff were encouraged to dress in traditional clothing from their home nations. At 9:30, gathered on the field, we would parade as nations to celebrate our diversity. I layered up in my red, white, and blue and wrapped the American flag my brother gave me – which flew from his tank in Iraq – around my waist! The kids called me Captain America!

After leaving Sam’s classroom and our country line dance, I entered my classroom and immediately began playing Lee Greenwood’s PROUD TO BE AN AMERICAN. Singing as my students entered the room; I couldn’t help but smile and truly feel proud to be an American. Hope was first to enter the room. She was dressed in her traditional Japanese gown – complete with a large blue ribbon tied tightly around her waist and bowed in the back. She looked beautiful. Laughing at me as I was singing, “and I proudly stand up next to you and defend her still today…” Hope began to respond to the morning message.

One by one, my students filtered into the room dressed in their countries’ colors and traditional dress; each wearing a smile that suggested excitement and pride. In those moments and for the remainder of the day, I felt beautifully overwhelmed by the “world” around me. In one way, I felt so small – a tiny part of something so powerful, and in another way, I felt larger than life to be representing a country I am so proud to call home in another country that has welcomed me and so many other outsiders.

Down on the field, our entire student body (pre-k to seniors) was separated in groups along the perimeter of a large square – facing a gathered crowd of parents and community members who mirrored the colors and faces of those students about ready to parade. As I scanned the crowd of little and big alike, all I saw was a sea of diversity. Flags from 83 countries fluttered in the wind, smiles from 83 countries sat waiting their turn to march. In one corner, the red, yellow, green, and black of South Africa stood – neighbors with the red, white, and blue of the United States of America. Some areas were filled by large groups of students, who until now had never met; while others were filled with a single representative standing tall, flag in hand.

Dr. Andy Page-Smith, AISJ’s director, began the ceremonies with the announcement that this year’s parade would be the school’s largest, representing 83 nations. Following his welcome, the elementary school’s student council president asked for all to remember those affected by the tragedy of 9-11, ten years prior. My heart skipped a beat as I felt, even deeper, the meaning of being an American. The school band and chorus joined together to lead the assembly in America’s National Anthem. It felt funny to stand on South African soil and sing the words of another country’s anthem. That didn’t stop me from proudly joining the collection of voices – standing a little taller as I did.

The parade took the format of the opening ceremonies at the Olympics. Each country, in alphabetical order, was announced and then walked around the inside perimeter of the square. Some countries had a single representative who strode along, while others marched seemingly endlessly. Little 4-year olds walked side by side with young adults. Cameras flashed and flags waved. It was inspiring to stand aside as faces from all parts of the world passed me by. I was reminded just how big the world really is, and yet how we are all so similar.  

Finally, it was our turn. Like a wave rolls onto shore, American students and staff spilled onto the parade route waving the stars and stripes. I giggled with happiness, walked with pride, and smiled with every ounce of home that filled me in those moments. It’s one thing to wear red, white, and blue on the Fourth of July in the states, but it’s completely different to wear the colors of a country I love so much in a world that is 8,000 miles away.

As the Americans trickled off the grass path, a child’s voice asked for all to stand as the National Anthem of South Africa began playing. Red, Yellow, Green and Black began parading around the square complete with loud applause. Flags swooshed through the air, painted faces smiled back at the crowd, and citizens of South Africa passed by all the foreigners who were temporarily calling this country home. I took a step back with a strong realization that for the first time in my life, I was a visitor to the country I was residing in. This was the first national celebration I have ever been to where my country isn’t calling itself host. It wasn’t a sad feeling. It was a reminder that I am not home but rather in a time in my life I will never forget – a place outside of my comfort zone where I can learn more about who I am, why I am proud to wear the red, white, and blue, and who I want to be in the future. 

Copy and Paste this link into your web browser to see my PARADE OF NATIONS photo album:

https://picasaweb.google.com/108109032757034854564/ParadeOfNationsAISJ?authkey=Gv1sRgCOLgmffRvpWaVA

Tour of My New Place

I FINALLY FIGURED OUT HOW TO UPLOAD A VIDEO TO MY BLOG!!

Here is a look around my new place. Thanks to our new friends Marcus and Beth, I finally have things on my walls! (It's nice to have friends with a serious tool box!) Chelsea lives right next door to me, so tonight (3 weeks ago now) we made dinner for Marcus and Beth in exchange for Marcus' hammer, nails, and male expertise! As we sat down to eat at Chels' table, I was really happy. It felt nice to be around good people with a good home-cooked meal in an apartment with "home" on the walls.

A Foreign Land for More Than Just Me

September 8, 2011

My career as an educator has been spotted with those students who excel at the English language both written and oral. It has been filled in the majority by students who are learning to properly write and speak the English language – essentially making these students English Language Learners. What separates all of my “English Language Learners” in the past from those ELL students I find myself challenged with here in South Africa is the defining characteristic of their native tongues. Learning English when your native language is English is natural. As a foreign student where English isn’t even your second spoken language, the challenges to your learning multiply! As a teacher with no true ELL experience, the challenges to my teaching multiply as well.

For over 60% of our student body, English is neither the first nor second language spoken in their homes – an incredible statistic for an AMERICAN International School. In my class alone, 5 out of my 15 students do not speak English as their first language. Of those five, two have almost no English and one has very little. I do my best to differentiate and address these students’ needs; however, the truth of the matter is, they will struggle. These students will quickly pick up the English language and the year will become easier and easier, but until then, it is painful to watch their frustrated faces grasp at every possible sound they recognize, complete activities incorrectly because they were honestly unable to understand the directions, or answer “get to know you” questions in a way that mimics another student’s response – ultimately not aiding in the whole “get to know you” process at all.

One of my students is from Portugal. Her English is very, very minimal, but I’ll be damned if that little girl doesn’t come in to class every day and try so hard you can see the exhaustion on her face. It is impressive to see these nine year olds sit through instruction day after day and not break down out of sheer exasperation. One little girl, equally as limited in her English, is from South Korea. Every morning she bounds in the classroom with a beautiful smile spread across her face, “Hi Ms. Akerley!!” When she struggles with directions it is, “Teacher! Teacher!” As I do my best to slow down my speech, approach the directions in multiple ways, and use visual clues, this little girl just smiles, nods her head, thanks me, and walks away. Most of the time, by some miracle, she gets me. Other times, the smile and happy nod stay with her to her desk as she incorrectly completes the given activity. As an almost 30 year old, I can say with confidence that I would not have the same resiliency if I were in this little girl’s position.

Some of my favorite moments in class has been those when my Portuguese student is aided in her understanding by another student of mine who speaks Spanish. Studies show that translating for ELL students is not helpful. My opinion – if those moments of clarity can help this little girl keep her sanity – go for it! As I sit back and listen to their Spanish/Portuguese dialogue, I am not only in awe of the language piece, but impressed by my Spanish student’s ability to support and clarify for a peer.  The translation has not stopped with the Spanish languages. One of my male students, who has a better understanding of English but it still very limited, has begun supporting my South Korean student. This little boy traveled to South Africa last year from South Korea, and he has clearly taken it upon himself to help support his culturally matched friend. Today, as I was trying my best to explain directions to my Portuguese student, this little boy noticed the South Korean student needed assistance, and before I knew it, he was standing at her desk reviewing directions with her. Adorable!

Given time, these students will need less and less support. English will always be more difficult for them, but I am confident that things will improve for them. Already I can see the mimicked responses lessening and the students finding strategies to help themselves. Yesterday, in an attempt to explain something she was proud of (our Closing Circle question), my Portuguese student was struggling to find the words in English for what she wanted to say. My ever-so-helpful Spanish speaker stepped in to assist. The Portuguese girl looked at the Spanish girl and said, “Nada, Nada,” which I took to mean she was going to get this on her own. Brave girl!

There are many moments where I feel extremely helpless with these students and wish I had a translator at my side. Learning that I had this many ELL students made me nervous and very apprehensive about this new teaching opportunity. However, as the year has begun and my awe increased at the courage of these nine year olds, I am glad to accept this new learning opportunity! 

"Who am I, Your maid?"

September 2, 2011

I spend my days reminding 4^th graders to pick up after themselves. Push your chair in. Somebody throw that piece of paper away. You are not ready to be dismissed until your tables look ready. You dropped that – pick it up. I remind myself that when I was their age I left trails of crap behind me just as much. I can still here my mum asking, “Who am I, your maid?” as I left messes or didn’t replace items to their homes. 

Today, as I returned home from work, I thought of those words moms and teachers are so good at spitting out, and I answered to no one: “No, you’re not, but Maria is!”

Allow me to introduce Maria. I have actually never met Maria in person, but I know she is a South African woman and she likes tea. She is a hard working woman who spends her week bouncing back and forth from apartment to apartment here in my complex. Maria is my new maid. As hypocritical as the previous statement may be, let me defend myself by saying that my decision to have a maid is directly improving South Africa. As a temporary citizen of the Republic of South Africa, I feel it is my duty to do my part to stimulate the economy. Not to mention, I am providing a salary for Maria. AND, let’s face it – I am not that messy of a person, so it can’t be that hard to clean my place! ;)

So, how does it work? Well, Chelsea and I actually split Maria’s time one day a week. She comes on Fridays from 8 until 3pm. We each pay her 100Rand a day, which amounts to just over $14.  She washes the dishes, mops the floor (which is great because I HATE mopping, and I have all tile/wooden floors!), cleans the bathrooms, dusts, vacuums rugs, and does the laundry. She washes, line dries, and even irons – EVERYTHING, and by everything, I am including my undies!! One day, she even cleaned Chelsea’s running sneakers! It’s like magic. On Friday mornings, I leave my apartment somewhat a mess, and when I return home – voila! It’s immaculate! My favorite part (aside from the ironed underwear) is the absence of breadcrumbs under the toaster! Sounds silly, I know, but that is an area in my former kitchens that has always been neglected!

I never imagined I’d be the kind of person who hired a maid. I pride myself on cleanliness and responsibility, but as I sit here with an overflowing laundry basket hovering in the corner of my room and breakfast dishes waiting in the sink, I can’t help but wonder – has South Africa changed me?! J

It Exists!

I found Skippy Peanut Butter at the grocery store!! No more chalky Black Cat! South Africa has Skippy! Enough said.

Oh, and speaking of vices, for those who know me well - I have only had ONE Diet Coke in the past 6 weeks, and it tasted like regular Coke - so, looks like my addiction may (temporarily) be a thing of the past!