tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64621264184641801892024-02-07T23:42:21.741-08:00Madame ou Mademoiselle?Stories from my adventures teaching & travelingAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03673383915431529436noreply@blogger.comBlogger248125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6462126418464180189.post-5374766145810291962014-05-04T16:13:00.003-07:002014-05-04T16:18:17.740-07:00Abdoulaye<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">After I visited the Vatican, I was exhausted and decided to take the train back to the hotel. I got on a train and then they announced that it wasn't moving from the station so everyone headed for the bus. I saw an African man and asked him if he knew which bus went to the station. He said he was also headed that way and would show me. He told me his name was Abdoulaye from the Gambia. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">We waited f</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; display: inline; line-height: 18px;">or the bus with an enormous crowd. I wanted to cram into one of the next three buses that came but Abdoulaye said we should wait for an empty one. He warned me to watch out because there were many thieves. Finally a bus came and we pushed our way to the front of the line and got seats. A German (?) family came and sat in the two seats across from us. The father struggled to fit both of his sons in the chair with him. Abdoulaye offered to let the boy sit in his lap so there was a little blond six-year-old balancing on his knee. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; display: inline; line-height: 18px;">During the rest of the way to the station, Abdoulaye told me of his journey from the Gambia, to Senegal, Mali, Algeria, Morocco, and then finally Canary Islands (Spain), and one year in Barcelona. For the past eight years he has sold handbags on the side of the road in Italy with many of his compatriots. He explained to me the three types of police, only one of which is feared by the vendors. When we arrived at the station the family was exceedingly appreciative to Abdoulaye and asked if they could take a picture of him with their son. I offered to take a picture of the entire family with Abdoulaye. I wish I had a copy of it. The family was so touched by a simple act of kindness, the likes of which are repeated many times a day in the Gambia. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; display: inline; line-height: 18px;">Abdoulaye is a hero; he sacrifices everything for his family and suffers in order to send money back home every month. He traveled a perilous journey they many people don't survive. He runs from police and hides yet never stops helping others and working to make everyone around him more comfortable. The world needs more people like Abdoulaye and people like him need to be more appreciated and rewarded in this harsh world.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">The next day when I was leaving the hotel an American couple returned from the station and had just been robbed moments before on the train. Someone stole the man's wallet from his pocket. I offered to let them use my phone (I have a free U.S. phone number through Skype) and I thought of Abdoulaye, who had warned me against cramming into a bus. Abdoulaye's generosity and thoughtfulness was a gift in many ways. </span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03673383915431529436noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6462126418464180189.post-36859124388379349042014-05-04T15:38:00.000-07:002014-05-04T16:27:05.797-07:00Shiro: The food of the people<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Every night in Rome I ate shiro, gomen, awaze and injera for dinner at "Asmara" restaurant down the street from my hotel. On my last night, I walked back to the station with an Eritrean named Ali who invited me for "chai" on the way. We went to a bar that was filled with Eritreans. I drank chai while Ali had a couple of beers. We listened to Tigrigna music and I met many new friends. Many of the gu</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; display: inline; line-height: 18px;">ys in the bar are living in a refugee camp in Rome run by the UNHCR. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">Most of them spent some time in Shimelba, the refugee camp where I worked for a short time in 2009. Ali told me me he's been unemployed for the past two months, even though he has lived in Italy for the the past nine years, spent 12 years in Saudi Arabia, visited Dakar and too many other cities to list. He is fluent in Arabic, Tigrigna, Italian, and English. I paid for his beers but couldn't do much else for him. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; display: inline; line-height: 18px;">The next day I saw Ali again, and a few minutes later found an Ethiopian supermarket. The other tourists I met told me it was strange that I came to Rome to eat shiro every night but to me it's the most logical thing in the world. I would eat shiro every night if I could. Hanging out with a bunch of Eritreans is a great opportunity for me. The da-dun-da-dun rhythm of their music is in sync with my heartbeat. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; display: inline; line-height: 18px;">Even though most of the people I met in Shimelba came to the U.S. and are living happier moments in their lives, I can't forget their pain and the unfair treatment they received in this life. No one chooses where to be born. I could be Eritrean, living on the margins, hiding from police, & struggling for work. Yet here I am, with my golden passport, traveling wherever I choose, a perpetual tourist. I will never be able to change the root of oppression or relieve the immense suffering of the people I meet. No amount of shiro can change this fact.</span></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03673383915431529436noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6462126418464180189.post-90892333374343635672014-05-04T07:40:00.000-07:002014-05-09T07:45:22.520-07:00Arrivederci<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I went to Rome, Italy for four days. It was just enough time to feel ready to leave by the end of the trip. Of course I wish I would have had time to visit other cities. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As soon as I arrived in the airport I took a train to the central "Termini" station, where my hotel was located. I found the hotel, dropped my bag off, grabbed a city map and headed out to see the city. As soon as I left the hotel I heard someone say, "Hi," and then "wallahi," which is an Arabic expression common in Senegal & Mauritania. I turned around and said, "nanga def" and two young men replied, "man-gi fi rek," the response in Wolof. Then I asked if they spoke Pulaar and they said yes. So we chatted for a while about life in Italy for "immigres" (immigrants) and they invited me for coffee. I politely declined, anxious to explore the city. Meeting new friends upon arrival was the best welcome to a new city I could ever ask for. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My strategy the first day was to walk as much as possible without stopping. The entire city is a museum with ruins, historic buildings, and beauty at every corner. Rome is spectacular. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On my second day, I went to the colosseum, pantheon, and explored until I literally couldn't take another step. I also got a haircut and pedicure and had a productive and fun day. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">During my third day, everything was closed because it was May 1st, the international day for workers. I needed a new strategy because I felt like I had seen a lot the previous day. So I decided that I would visit churches or anywhere that tourists visited. The art in every church is stunning so I was never disappointed when I opened the door. The paintings, sculptures and architecture was incredible. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs7AlqasmzxZKGOw80suzfyfNKmLBh6HMIVUk_w6hvLkSs4CmhIkuVLCJbZ5SZ0qHU8C0sT99Ko_kTObafEeCL1s2d6nJWKetKK4OOFFP_BBtwzCqnKEwDdGIm0rF2lQ-OphyYBr9cL6Ti/s1600/IMG_7317.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs7AlqasmzxZKGOw80suzfyfNKmLBh6HMIVUk_w6hvLkSs4CmhIkuVLCJbZ5SZ0qHU8C0sT99Ko_kTObafEeCL1s2d6nJWKetKK4OOFFP_BBtwzCqnKEwDdGIm0rF2lQ-OphyYBr9cL6Ti/s1600/IMG_7317.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At the end of each day I talked to the people at the hotel about what they saw and did. They explained the places they went and I was happy that I also visited the same places, even if I didn't know why I was seeing them. By following tourists wherever they went, I managed to see everything without any of the planning or research. I also had an element of surprise- I didn't know why I was climbing the stairs or waiting in line but I knew that there was something special on the other side. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Near the end of my third day I met many Senegalese people selling bags and I was happy to discover that one of them was from the same village as my friends (Bouki Jawe) so we had people in common and it made Rome feel like an extension of my travels in West Africa. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I thought I was going to a place where I knew no one and had no friends but from the moment I arrived, I found many friends and "family" members. It really is a small world! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Arrivederci, Rome! It was a truly marvelous visit....</span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03673383915431529436noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6462126418464180189.post-36969841321147938802014-03-18T15:37:00.001-07:002014-03-18T15:37:23.334-07:00Illustrating Idioms<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One of my favorite aspects of teaching is unleashing my students' hidden talents. The teachers I train are amazing artists - check out a recent activity we did to illustrate idioms: </span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03673383915431529436noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6462126418464180189.post-28928841687903414792014-02-18T08:03:00.002-08:002014-03-25T15:19:38.725-07:00Kif Kif<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I really like phrases with double sounds. Here are some of my favorites:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Kif kif (same same - Arabic)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Shweya shweya (small small - Arabic)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Seda Seda (small small - Pulaar)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Joni Joni (soon soon - Pulaar)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tuti tuti (small small - Wolof)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sawa sawa (ok ok - Swahili)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ndanka ndanka (slowly slowly - Wolof)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Waw waw (yes yes - Wolof)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cheb Cheb (cheap cheap - Mauritania) This phrase generally means that it was pieced together. So if you are doing many jobs, you can say your work is "cheb cheb" or if you buy something 2nd hand or slightly damaged you can say it's "cheb cheb." It can also be used to mean something of substandard quality. A cheap, knock-off phone, is often called "cheb cheb."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I guess in English we have "bye bye"!!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Can you think of any more?</span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03673383915431529436noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6462126418464180189.post-8051119843531782942014-02-01T03:43:00.003-08:002014-02-01T13:20:27.671-08:00Global Ambassadors<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"In humility, I realized I am a child of all nations, of all ages, past and present. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Place and time of birth, parents, all are coincidence: such things are not sacred."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- Pramoedya Ananta Toer</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We become global ambassadors for the countries where we live. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have lived in Kenya, Benin, Ethiopia, Mauritania, and now Algeria. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I still follow the news and current events there. I don't write my friends as often as I would like to do but I think of them every day. These countries are a part of me. I think about the similarities and differences between each country and my experiences in each place has helped me to understand the world around me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Often people ask me about my favorite country. I always explain that I don't have a favorite - no country is better than any other. All countries have amazing people and fascinating cultural traditions. I try to represent the positive qualities of each country because I saw immense beauty in each place, separate and unique. It doesn't mean I can't talk about the negative issues because of course there are many challenges to overcome in every country, and the United States is no exception. I want to share my love for the people and places in every country where I have had the privilege to live because I genuinely loved every day I was there. I am a better person than I would be if I had never lived in so many countries. It is a gift. </span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03673383915431529436noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6462126418464180189.post-59536924355121984792014-02-01T03:07:00.001-08:002014-02-01T03:08:34.102-08:00Youth Center Superstars<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This week I was invited to visit the youth center where four of the teachers in my program are working. The youth center is a large complex and has over 1,000 visitors per month. The Ministry of Youth and Sports named it the best youth center in the country. After spending the day there, I can see why.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My students came to pick me up in the morning at seven am and they dropped me off at nine pm. They showered me with gifts and treated me like a princess. It was a truly spectacular day. The highlight was to meet their wonderful students and see these brilliant teachers in action. It was a day I will never forget! </span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03673383915431529436noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6462126418464180189.post-25203182899558996062014-02-01T02:25:00.003-08:002014-02-01T02:25:37.904-08:00Jeo-Party!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I love organizing Jeopardy games as part of a celebration of hard work. This time my students wrote the questions and I brought tons of candy to help make a festive atmosphere. It was a very fun class.... </span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03673383915431529436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6462126418464180189.post-57234574331393818682014-01-30T02:16:00.000-08:002014-02-01T02:17:15.148-08:00Surprise in the Mail<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_P-X_E9k9aZQ5w4LCAVDysPlAyOk5U4OpJZOsPTDDs-nqlH6dxQdhtxihtGVUwdx4L1loFQk9bzVh2wcwxZ87olkoKvDF1CbifJNP8qi4nzALqcEi9rAePRXznxBTRtBtVsLRN5pi1OLQ/s1600/IMG_3244.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_P-X_E9k9aZQ5w4LCAVDysPlAyOk5U4OpJZOsPTDDs-nqlH6dxQdhtxihtGVUwdx4L1loFQk9bzVh2wcwxZ87olkoKvDF1CbifJNP8qi4nzALqcEi9rAePRXznxBTRtBtVsLRN5pi1OLQ/s1600/IMG_3244.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today I opened my mail box and had three slips for packages from the post office. I practically ran there to collect them. What a great day! There was no line and the staff were friendly and helpful. I am so excited to open these all of these gems! I love my family (and the Algerian postal system)!!!!</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03673383915431529436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6462126418464180189.post-69584044980829264642014-01-24T08:05:00.002-08:002014-01-24T09:33:42.727-08:00Stroke Survivors Club<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My father had a stroke in 2012. He survived but the trauma has taken away almost everything he loved. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Two years later and my father is still really weak; He can barely speak or move. He can't eat or drink, play guitar or harmonica. His friends come over every weekend and play for him, he smiles and taps the banjo. He is still 100% present. He understands everything and he is always listening. He is stronger than he looks and more resilient than anyone ever imagined. He is fighting to survive and he's beating all the odds. The doctors told my mom not to call 911 the next time he gets pneumonia. My mom keeps calling because my dad will decide when he's too tired to keep going. It isn't his time yet. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After spending five weeks in the intensive care unit with my dad and family, I had to return to Nouakchott to finish the school year. I asked my dad for permission before I left, he squeezed my hand and told me he would never want me to give up my life for him. I know my dad well enough to know that he wants me to follow my dreams. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In Nouakchott I learned that one of my close friends had a stroke. I went to visit him and was happy to see that he getting stronger everyday and had nearly recovered all movement. He resumed teaching a few months later. Last year one the father of one of my best friends had a stroke. I didn't get to visit him but I still keep him in my thoughts. He is recovering well and has nearly gained back what he lost. The last time i was in Kaolack I visited a friend of a friend in the hospital. She was only 32 years old and it was her second stroke. She was laying on the bed and her eyes betrayed no spark of personality. It looked like she was in a coma. I spoke to her and although she couldn't respond I knew she heard me because I asked her to squeeze my hand if she understood. Her grip was strong. Tears streamed down my cheeks because I knew she was there. I could only imagine how scared I would be to be in her place. The sour smell of the room, shared with five other women. Imprisoned in a body. I spoke to her for a while and asked her to please keep hope alive. I assured her that her children were taken care of. She passed away the following day. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It has been a terrible experience to watch my father suffer through brain damage and persevere through a broken health care system. It has been incredibly painful to see my mom maintain her dignity despite the heart-break of losing so much. Yet we are all still here, as survivors of this disaster. Whenever I hear of someone who suffered through a stroke, brain damage, or illness I feel a strong connection to them. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Many people I haven't spoken to in years reached out to me to share their stories of becoming care takers for their children, parents, husbands, wives, friends. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We share a bond that no one wishes to share. We became experts of subjects we never wanted to study. We are all part of a club we never wanted to join. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My father's immense network of fans and friends have rallied around him. He had no idea how loved he was. I believe this has been the source of his strength - the number of people cheering for him and the depth of the love around him everyday. He wants to recover for them. My father is selfless, even in his most weakest position, when he can barely speak. I will listen hard to his quiet, childlike words, and he will be saying, "do you have a ride home?" He is worried about others, while he is filled with tubes and connected to a vast network of machines. Yet through it all- we have become stronger versions of ourselves. We get back up and we keep going. Every breath my father breathes is an act of rebellion against the odds. We will not surrender. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Solidarity is strength. Thank you to everyone who has helped me get through this. I hope that one day I can help others as much as they have helped me. </span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03673383915431529436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6462126418464180189.post-33846477306769187692014-01-24T06:33:00.003-08:002014-01-24T06:36:42.084-08:00Bread: The Greatest Gift<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Last week I came back from Morocco to find that my water pump broke. It always seems like something breaks whenever I travel. I waited a few hours with high hopes it would fix itself. At 7 pm I realized that I needed help. I called my landlord who told me that the plumber would come in two days. The last time he said he would be here I waited two more weeks. I went downstairs to see if my neighbor could help. She is really kind and her son always offers to carry my heavy boxes, etc upstairs for me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I knocked on their door they welcomed me in and gave me freshly baked bread and salad. We talked about my trip and I heard all the updates on the family. They are everything I could ever ask for neighbors to be. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The wonderful son called his friend, a plumber, and they came over the next morning to fix my water pump. It's so important to have generous neighbors. I am so fortunate. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yesterday I saw the son in the hallway. He asked me to wait a second and then he came out with a warm loaf of bread. I love them.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03673383915431529436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6462126418464180189.post-52947465367522699132014-01-24T06:08:00.005-08:002014-01-24T09:35:27.571-08:00Dar Chebab<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today I learned a new word in Arabic - Dar Chebab means youth center. This week I visited one of my students at the youth center where she teaches. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The complex consisted of seven classrooms with basic materials- chalkboards, ping pong table, desks & chairs, a few old computers and a definite absence of books. Greatest resource available is the team of motivated teachers and administration. The children come to classes every day after school because they want to be there. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I attended two of my students' classes and met all of her colleagues. The children sang and laughed and loved every minute of it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Afterwards, my student invited me meet her family and they showed me incredible generosity. Her little brother kept bringing me candy and sweets. Her mom showed me how to make bread. They drove me home at 10:00 pm after. It was probably the best day I have had since I arrived in Algeria. It is too bad this family lives so far away because I would love to visit them every week. </span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03673383915431529436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6462126418464180189.post-57807638133831197222014-01-18T14:56:00.000-08:002014-01-18T15:02:40.548-08:00Multiple Intelligences<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Right now I am teaching about Multiple Intelligences. I think it makes a great framework to help teachers understand how to diversify their teaching techniques. Today we made "MI maps" in which the teachers represented the events that happened in their lives to help them develop one intelligence. I loved the various ways that the teachers made their maps, some linear, others represented as flowers, etc. I was interested to see that the teachers chose to represent mathematical, spatial, linguistic, and bodily-kinesthetic intelligences. These teachers are have so many talents. This was definitely a FUN day in class and I learned a lot more about this impressive group. </span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03673383915431529436noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6462126418464180189.post-63036761757505582012014-01-14T14:22:00.001-08:002014-01-24T09:34:36.733-08:00The Courage to Cry<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Last week I attended a conference for
English teachers in Morocco. It was a magnificent event organized by the
incredibly committed and hard working Moroccan Association for Teachers of
English (MATE). One of the highlights was the opportunity to attend the
workshops of my colleagues (the English Language Fellow program teachers in Bahrain & Morocco also attended the conference).
I learned a lot from them and it was also really wonderful to see their smiling
faces during my workshop. <span style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One of my colleagues, Julie, led a
fascinating workshop about literature circles. During the session we read a short story by Sandra Cisneros and then we participated in a simulation activity so that we could learn how to implement a literature circle in our classrooms. One of our tasks was to think of connections to the story.
Many teachers shared their connections to books and short stories they had read as well as their personal experiences. One
of the teachers made a connection to Dolly Parton's "Coat of Many Colors."
Julie, our amazing facilitator, had never heard this song (or maybe she was just
pretending) so of course we all had to sing it for her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A teacher sitting next to me told a story
about a student who came to class with a baseball cap. He asked
him to remove it and when the student refused, the teacher ordered him out of class. The student later informed the teacher that he had an injury on the
side of his head and didn't want the other students to laugh at him. The
teacher apologized and let the student wear his hat in class until his wound healed.
After telling this story, another teacher began to tell a
similar story about a student she taught who wouldn't take off his hat. I could
see from across the room that she was starting to get emotional as she told the
story. I got out of my chair to be close to her but it was too late to reach
her before the tears started to stream down her cheeks. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Her student had died a few hours after
her class while he was taking a math exam. She never had the chance to
apologize to him and she felt responsible for his death. Everyone in the room
froze. Reassuring words could be heard from every corner of the room,
"It's not your fault. It's not your fault. It's not your fault." She
had never told anyone about the incident and I don't think before that moment
she had realized how much it still affected her. As I wrapped my arms around
her, tears began to stream down my cheeks as well. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I asked her for the name of the boy so
that I could keep him in my heart but she said that she didn't want to repeat
his name because she has been trying to forget it for two years. All
teachers have stories of children we feel that we disappointed or didn't work
hard enough to help. I have so many, Juma, Daniel, Bobby... I could keep
reciting their names but I will never be able to bring them back or fix their broken lives. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The workshop continued while I sat next to this brave woman. She was embarrassed for her uncontrollable emotions. I was
proud of her for sharing the story that produced them. As teachers we are so
isolated in our classrooms, alone with our students as the only witnesses of
our joys, failures, frustrations, or successes. Yet we all need the opportunity
to share our experiences and reflect on our practices in order to grow
professionally.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">During the conclusion of her presentation,
Julie explained that literature circles can build a sense of community in the
classroom by establishing trust. Her workshop perfectly modeled these
principles; she provided a space for all of us to share our true selves. Afterwards
I felt as though I had become close friends to everyone in a room that was previously
filled with strangers. I wish that every teacher could have been there to
experience such a powerful demonstration of solidarity and support. </span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03673383915431529436noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6462126418464180189.post-58054057906069329982014-01-13T12:41:00.002-08:002014-01-13T12:41:26.273-08:00Teaching the Art of Collage<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I made a collage of my students' collages!</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03673383915431529436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6462126418464180189.post-6733836810642793452014-01-13T11:52:00.001-08:002014-01-13T11:52:38.220-08:00To Be A Teacher<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am so happy in the classroom. Seeing my students working, discussing, debating, and laughing brings me immense joy. I just love teaching! </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The teachers I work with travel from throughout the Algiers region to attend my trainings. Some of them travel up to four hours per day in each direction. They are so committed to the program and attendance is almost at nearly 95%. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I had a two week vacation while I was in Morocco for a conference. I sent emails to the teachers to remind them but most bounced back. I came to class early to prepare for the day and found only two teachers there. The coordinator from the Ministry was there and he said that we will wait in the lobby for the rest of the teachers. After thirty minutes, the time for the session to begin, I told him that I will just hold a class with the two who came and hope the rest come soon. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We walked across the compound to the conference room and I saw all of the teachers waiting for me. It was like a surprise party! I was so delighted to see them and I wanted to run and give everyone a big hug. There had been some confusion- someone at the conference center showed them to the room without passing by the lobby. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">During class we had a "gallery walk" of the collages we made before the break. It was so funny to see the staff from the conference center standing in the back to admire the collages, like a real gallery. They created true works of art! </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8J-SnfxcV1Ffwt5Z31CncsQIitYF8QYlT0zdgHHkt__OZnOUT8eP2iF9iRS95XLYI6uLPinTz4S99_F4VnMJf5XqyvWiXgaXU91kZf5VgDZeBW3ziIzJClYJkCmd2aZ7Bou5X_G87xB7G/s1600/IMG_2907.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8J-SnfxcV1Ffwt5Z31CncsQIitYF8QYlT0zdgHHkt__OZnOUT8eP2iF9iRS95XLYI6uLPinTz4S99_F4VnMJf5XqyvWiXgaXU91kZf5VgDZeBW3ziIzJClYJkCmd2aZ7Bou5X_G87xB7G/s320/IMG_2907.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am so fortunate to have an an incredible group of teachers this year. Seeing them is the highlight of my week. Today two students gave me gifts for the new year. Even though they said they had intended to give me the gifts before the break, it was fitting because today is the New Year in the Islamic calendar. One student gave me a beautiful pair of red rose earrings. I am already wearing them. Another student gave me a small book about the holy Qu'ran, as a way of sharing health and blessings for the new year. She wrote me a letter and explained that she thought it might be interesting for me to read about how to perform ablutions and other aspects of Islam. I was very touched by her thoughtful gift and very heart-felt words. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Friendship is universal, sharing and exchanging ideas is an essential part of cross-cultural friendships. I am so grateful to have met such wonderful teachers during my time in Algeria. Although I wish I was teaching every day, I cherish every minute I have with this magnificent bunch. </span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03673383915431529436noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6462126418464180189.post-38260492408732775882014-01-11T06:14:00.000-08:002014-01-20T11:02:48.774-08:00Long at last<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was invited to present a workshop in Cairo in 2010.... that did NOT happen. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was invited to present again in 2011. That also did not happen. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was invited to present in Burkina Faso in 2011- that did not happen either. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was invited to present in Togo in 2012- that did not happen, although for once not because of political unrest but due to a family emergency.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was invited to present at the Morocco teacher association conference in January 1-4, 2014. I was nervous the conference would be cancelled. I heard someone mention that there were floods in Tangiers and figured that the fates were against me. Miraculously, the conference was NOT cancelled and I was able to present my workshop. It took over four years to have the chance to present it, but it was worth the wait. </span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03673383915431529436noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6462126418464180189.post-23792562651333969952013-12-19T10:59:00.002-08:002014-01-14T14:32:40.071-08:00Petit a petit<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">These are twelve basic life skills I didn't have before I went to Africa that everyone else in the world seems to have: </span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Properly greet people every time I see them (shake their hands and ask about their health, work, life, and family) and always greet people before talking about business, etc. People first! </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Be a good host by welcoming people with snacks and drinks every time they come over (and always make sure to have both of these on hand in case anyone stops by)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Eat with my right hand without ever touching my fingers to my mouth (or dropping any of the food)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Clap extremely loud by cupping my hands together</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Woo-looo-looo ululate with my tongue</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Peel a potato without a potato peeler</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cut an onion without a cutting board</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Wrap fabric around my waist like a skirt without using any pins, clips, or strings</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Turn on an oil lamp</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cook using a gas tank and change the tank when it's empty</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Bargain for prices</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dance to Congolais music (it's all about the knees!)</span></li>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03673383915431529436noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6462126418464180189.post-25241846370853316772013-12-18T14:20:00.000-08:002013-12-18T15:28:14.979-08:00Spectacular Kindness<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I had an incredible day, from start to finish. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Morning - I arrived at the Embassy and my colleagues helped me collect magazines for a class project and make photocopies of a resource I want to share. Everyone was smiling and helpful. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I left with three overstuffed bags and a large box of books and magazines. I thought I could walk home but after a few minutes I had to stop for a little break</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(everyone told me it was too heavy but I can be extremely stubborn...)</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">. One of the Embassy staff was leaving work and he asked if he could help. He carried the box to the main street, called a taxi, paid for the taxi, and insisted on carrying the box to the front door of my building.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> The words thank you will never be enough. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Afternoon - I showed the film "Amandla" to the students at the business school. I walked into the room to find 75 enthusiastic and energetic students and teachers waiting for me. One of the members of the student association even made a slideshow with pictures and music to watch while we waited for everyone to arrive. It was brilliant. Another student introduced me and made a wonderful speech. After we watched the film, I led a discussion. The professors told me about how Miriam Makeba came here and they went to her concert in the 1970's. Makeba was even given an Algerian passport. It was fascinating to hear their first person accounts of those difficult years from an Algerian perspective, a country that showed real solidarity with South Africa.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Evening -</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I like to go to the vegetable stand each evening and buy the things I want to eat at that moment.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I bought an enormous bouquet of deep green celery. The bottom is covered in dirt and it seems like it was only picked this morning. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The vendor tied string from the ceiling to create small, colorful clusters of oranges, dates, and bananas. He smiled as he inspected his work, and said, "tomorrow, this" and he held up a small melon. I will have to stop by soon to see the new decorations. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Before leaving, I commented on the beautiful Asian pears, painted red on the stems and wrapped in tissue, like precious gifts. The vendor said they <i>were</i> gifts and he gave me one to take home. I came home and unwrapped it. I carefully studied the bright red paint on the tip and ate it slowly to appreciate each bite. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today was filled with moments that made me so grateful to live here and experience the spectacular kindness of everyone I encountered. </span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03673383915431529436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6462126418464180189.post-75828142556439751332013-12-17T00:16:00.000-08:002013-12-17T00:26:33.992-08:00Oneness<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today I am thinking about my father. He is back in the ICU after 49 days at home. Basically, he is in the ICU every month. I think of him always and wish I was close so I could hold his hand. The life I have chosen for myself is far away and I know my dad wouldn't want me to give up and come home, even for one year. I spent two months at home this year and nearly four months last year. It's not enough, and it will never be enough, but it is what I can do. I make the most of my time at home and spend all day, every day, at his side. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What I want to write about today is the response of the people in the places where I live to the illness of my father. Because family relationships are so important in the places I live, the first thing people do when they meet me in Mauritania is to ask my family name. This is a way of finding out if I am connected to them, if I am one of "them" in some way. In a small country like Mauritania, there is a good chance that most people of the same ethnic group are some how related. As a foreigner, they think I may have married into their "family." When I tell them my last name, it is clear that I am an outsider. Usually, they will "give" me a name, thereby making me one of them. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sometimes just for fun I say the name of the family I visit. So I will say, "My name is Delia Ba." Then the person will ask where I am from. I will say, for example, "Feralla." Then, if the person has any family or even knows anyone named Ba in Feralla they will ask me, "do you know XX?" If I do know the person, we have become "family" through the association. If not, the search for someone in common will continue. By the end of the conversation we will have found a connection.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> This is a way of building a relationship and establishing "oneness." </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I may be wrong about this because I have actually never asked anyone or talked about it but it is just what I think. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As you can imagine, after we establish "oneness" people will ask about how my family is doing (remember my relations are now their relations and vice versa). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In fact, asking about family is so entrenched in the cultures of every country I have lived in (Kenya, Benin, Ethiopia, Mauritania, Senegal & Algeria) - and probably most of the "developing" world - that everyone I meet asks about the status of my family every time I see them. People are genuinely interested to hear about my parents, siblings, nieces and nephews. When I tell people about my father's illness, they are so concerned. They call me later to see if he is better. Once I tell someone about my father's illness, that person will remember and ask me about it every single time I see him/her. It is as if the entire country cares about my father. The level of compassion I witness on a daily level is striking. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We choose how we define family. We are all connected. If we had a greater sense of "oneness," the world would be a much better place for everyone in our extended "family."</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03673383915431529436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6462126418464180189.post-22562714612185744172013-12-16T00:09:00.001-08:002013-12-16T00:10:11.858-08:00The Olive Branch<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbGQqvdvnrAKrfwPuAKTEsDfAnp9TdptWwELjGOEWhTrwAyGGQy0F5zgtriCUe2tUlWEFHvYfS-K9GLyDmcrP1aHNPslCUEkGZY2b6ru9nWgqAZHeKqPgBWHXpdBtGBzbXRauOh__C3DZg/s1600/IMG_1855.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbGQqvdvnrAKrfwPuAKTEsDfAnp9TdptWwELjGOEWhTrwAyGGQy0F5zgtriCUe2tUlWEFHvYfS-K9GLyDmcrP1aHNPslCUEkGZY2b6ru9nWgqAZHeKqPgBWHXpdBtGBzbXRauOh__C3DZg/s320/IMG_1855.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Director drove me home at the end of class today. I saw a small branch in his car and asked him what it was. He said it was an olive branch. I was so excited to see one for the first time in my life that he said I could have it. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I told him it was a beautiful symbol for our new training. </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03673383915431529436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6462126418464180189.post-34409399426044969742013-12-15T23:58:00.002-08:002013-12-16T06:44:00.169-08:00Glamorous Life<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yesterday I had my first class. I will train a small group of teachers from the Algiers Region two times per week for seven months. We started the first weekly session today. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am so happy to be in the classroom again. We meet in a beautiful conference room. The sun shines on all all day through a wall of windows. There is a white board, pens, and endless reams of flip chart paper. After each class we are treated to a beautiful three course lunch with salad, soup, and a main course (chicken, fish, etc.). They even prepared a special meal for me. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLK3ERO4vis-zZqsiiNjSbWkWMg30sQfhHzWxSumkh5GeQb1bphX0VKEL-z81EZXVbwsfYHobjkNo65QSWuzXP-Gil_Rgf-lrAZrxQo3fpJQiLX4Xl2onozFlEpNTEWwpDOSG9liObXSbL/s1600/IMG_1851.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLK3ERO4vis-zZqsiiNjSbWkWMg30sQfhHzWxSumkh5GeQb1bphX0VKEL-z81EZXVbwsfYHobjkNo65QSWuzXP-Gil_Rgf-lrAZrxQo3fpJQiLX4Xl2onozFlEpNTEWwpDOSG9liObXSbL/s320/IMG_1851.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One of my Ugandan friends told me he came here for the free University education provided by the Algerian government. One year of housing and food costs just 400 dinar - $5! There is unlimited bread, fruit, salad and a main course each day (chicken three times per week). There is also free transportation provided to students who live off-campus. In Algiers alone there are over 2,000 free buses allocated for higher education. Of course the tuition is free. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Incredible.</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03673383915431529436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6462126418464180189.post-42211625539460990712013-12-14T01:41:00.000-08:002013-12-14T01:52:48.906-08:00Intercultural Iceburg<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOLXKsZFJT_ZvWa9DN6WzozYfANgrGFFuSWJDIXWuAb6D97Sc9lq_wVQ1l2dbfyLZgHIqzllspEKMHErxImqrcZ7wZLi5mG-N1X_7K4mULDUTqGVUuW21V6G3xOFFinoHDPzLSSbi3dD9Q/s1600/Cultural-Iceberg-opengecko1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOLXKsZFJT_ZvWa9DN6WzozYfANgrGFFuSWJDIXWuAb6D97Sc9lq_wVQ1l2dbfyLZgHIqzllspEKMHErxImqrcZ7wZLi5mG-N1X_7K4mULDUTqGVUuW21V6G3xOFFinoHDPzLSSbi3dD9Q/s320/Cultural-Iceberg-opengecko1.jpg" width="260" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">During the "Effective Business Communication" training last week, we learned about the iceburg model of culture. The presentation focused on how we adapt the items above the "water" to be effective in our changing environments, while the factors below remained unaffected. For example, we can change our clothes to be effective but it doesn't necessarily reflect a change in our values. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The factors below the water are often where real cultural "clashes" take place. Effective </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">intercultural communication needs to move beyond the visible by understanding the values and beliefs of each side. In order to truly value diversity, we need to establish mutual respect for each others' "iceburg."</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03673383915431529436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6462126418464180189.post-89143136793177636172013-12-13T02:22:00.000-08:002013-12-13T03:58:10.187-08:00TENOR: Teaching English for No Obvious Reason<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkYwUjbmAkEniduTIejenj89IA-k1AvT0ZPTtPju8os2REKbJSElKwfwnqUSb0BzAjHWAvuPNChHeM_IzbcR0VruXUWA-DMuzeOyzGMTuDTh-mB6xQ_sixJQXM6MJcshHHK1rok32_YBog/s1600/IMG_1812.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkYwUjbmAkEniduTIejenj89IA-k1AvT0ZPTtPju8os2REKbJSElKwfwnqUSb0BzAjHWAvuPNChHeM_IzbcR0VruXUWA-DMuzeOyzGMTuDTh-mB6xQ_sixJQXM6MJcshHHK1rok32_YBog/s320/IMG_1812.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This week the U.S. Embassy brought a Specialist (a consultant for English programs sponsored by the State Department). The Specialist specialized in Business English and came to help the business college redesign their curriculum. Since I haven't started teaching yet, I was lucky to attend the sessions. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On the first day she taught the group that there is ESP (</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">English for Specific Purposes) </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">and TENOR (teaching English for no obvious reasons). As everyone was laughing, I was thinking to myself, "I'd rather be a TENOR than anything else."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvVMw26K_7QG0k1nVOE3vYqLKL4dAtTMPAYzcCjCSKeivuMZAOu30jg2eJKjRlbnJnltwiu-f0yxVm_gf06m40QYuOYnwim0y4KJD2XharuCrOtW_38jOq0szMGj2YZ34Rie1oTP5moQfI/s1600/IMG_1739.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvVMw26K_7QG0k1nVOE3vYqLKL4dAtTMPAYzcCjCSKeivuMZAOu30jg2eJKjRlbnJnltwiu-f0yxVm_gf06m40QYuOYnwim0y4KJD2XharuCrOtW_38jOq0szMGj2YZ34Rie1oTP5moQfI/s320/IMG_1739.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: justify;">It was fun to have a visitor in Algiers and although it was a bit exhausting, I met a lot of new friends and already have a plan for to return and work with the student association there. After lunch one day they had a concert for us and sang songs in Berber, Arabic, and English. They organized a blood drive on the first day we were there and they have many other activities. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfu-o2xil7_Z-ByOxeGU3_t7RIVyoBYcV7n0pF2sbodMiZkGi7WtkA-6VxRWvzMd3-MTo6HRWC2Le1hg9fr9nfjywl3BvlDYxH2neJ8FyqdnO-ZGRdaPdF9VC2-UU9Nl649VNRtbLNwTEx/s1600/IMG_1741.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfu-o2xil7_Z-ByOxeGU3_t7RIVyoBYcV7n0pF2sbodMiZkGi7WtkA-6VxRWvzMd3-MTo6HRWC2Le1hg9fr9nfjywl3BvlDYxH2neJ8FyqdnO-ZGRdaPdF9VC2-UU9Nl649VNRtbLNwTEx/s320/IMG_1741.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The business college will soon move to a new campus and we had the chance to visit. It's located about 40 kilometers outside of Algiers and there is a beautiful view of the surrounding mountains in every classroom. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8k_8nVxLdCdHp-coRr9RXzW2L3ZtBfTFkvH0l8C242Ox2dPyXjkP0o2R_fSVLFa9i5aKwhXg0_UnMluhe-V7zG-2z5Ub7R4bYLPYP0LeS9R6MLrLgLl6krIHobFYAoAO8fT23CSNxZd30/s1600/IMG_1730.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8k_8nVxLdCdHp-coRr9RXzW2L3ZtBfTFkvH0l8C242Ox2dPyXjkP0o2R_fSVLFa9i5aKwhXg0_UnMluhe-V7zG-2z5Ub7R4bYLPYP0LeS9R6MLrLgLl6krIHobFYAoAO8fT23CSNxZd30/s320/IMG_1730.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There are five amphitheaters, 60 fully equipped classrooms with projectors, and three brand new computer labs. It is amazing. It also showed me how many resources this country has. The government spends 30% of the national budget on education. The Minister of Higher Education proudly explained to me, "While some see education as an expense, we see it as an investment in the future." If only all governments could think that way! In contrast, the U.S. government <a href="http://febp.newamerica.net/background-analysis/education-federal-budget">allocated just 4% of the federal budget to education</a> in 2012.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On the last day of the training, my host institution called and informed me that I will start on Sunday. MachaAllah!</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03673383915431529436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6462126418464180189.post-76354761965243847932013-12-11T01:51:00.000-08:002013-12-13T01:58:42.921-08:00Kirikou, mon ami<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm in love with Kirikou. Who isn't? Sing along with Youssou N'Dour: </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By Youssou N'Dour</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dans le village, l'eau et les hommes avaient disparu</span></div>
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Les femmes pleuraient et tremblaient devant la sorcière</div>
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Kirikou seul savait où trouver notre grand-père</div>
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Kirikou, mon ami… Nous a redonné la vie</div>
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Kirikou n'est pas grand, mais il est vaillant</div>
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Kirikou est petit, mais c'est mon ami</div>
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Kirikou n'est pas grand, mais il est vaillant</div>
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Kirikou est petit, mais c'est mon ami</div>
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Sur la route des flamboyants</div>
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Du haut de la case de Karaba</div>
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Les fétiches surveillent le village</div>
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Kirikou demande pourquoi - Karaba est si méchante</div>
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Kirikou, mon ami… Nous a redonné la vie</div>
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Kirikou n'est pas grand, mais il est vaillant</div>
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Kirikou est petit, mais c'est mon ami</div>
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Kirikou n'est pas grand, mais il est vaillant</div>
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Kirikou est petit, mais c'est mon ami</div>
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Kirikou est petit, mais c'est mon ami, mais c'est mon ami</div>
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Kirikou n'est pas grand, mais il est vaillant, mais il est vaillant</div>
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Kirikou n'est pas grand, mais il est vaillant</div>
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Kirikou est petit, mais c'est mon ami</div>
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Kirikou n'est pas grand, mais il est vaillant</div>
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Kirikou est petit, mais c'est mon ami</div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Last year I watched Kirikou in Pulaar- the video spread throughout fuuta (the name of the region where Pulaar speaking people live) in record time and every house I visited had already seen it. It is really fun to sing the song in Pulaar (kirikou wonaa mawdo, kono ko sehilam). Here is a clip:</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03673383915431529436noreply@blogger.com0