Teaching.
To be totally honest, teaching was my least favorite part of living in India.
In fact, I wrote this in my journal the first month I was here: (Keep in mind, this is from my journal. I want to be 100% authentic with you all, so realize I was very stressed and frustrated when I wrote this)
The kids would not settle down today. I literally sat down on the floor until my fifth graders were so confused that they stopped talking...Today is Saturday, but in India, there is school on Saturdays. I think my least favorite part of missions here is not the bugs, not the sweat, not the smell...but school. Not only is there a language barrier and a huge learning gap...but the kids can hardly understand my accent. It is an English medium school, meaning that all the classes are in English, but the kids don't understand my accent. I feel stupid.
I barely understand the school system, much less the Indian school system and Indian customs in such a conservative area of India, where smacking disruptive students is OK.
There is no order, no plan, I have been put in classes where I don't understand the subject, I have been put in classes where the majority of the students are still learning English. I am mad at myself for ever thinking that teaching here would be a good idea. The children don't understand me and I am mad at myself for not being able to speak Hindi. How foolish of me for not knowing the language, what am I doing?!...
...I feel useless in school...I hate that I don't know what the kids are saying behind my back in Hindi or Oriya...
...I know this is where I am supposed to be right now, though. I feel like it would not be glorifying to God if I remained in America, and I don't know why...Sure, I would have hygiene and constant A/C in America, but it would be so unfulfilling. My desires are only satisfied in doing what He desires of me...and serving is what makes me really, truly, eternally happy and fulfilled.
I was looking out the window last night, gazing at the mountains, praying about staying until November, when suddenly, 14-year old Saroti (from the Children's Hostel I am living at) came up to me, hugged me and gave me a kiss on the cheek. We ended up hugging and looking out at the mountain for several minutes, just her little arms around me, like we were actually sisters. We talked about God and life and things that sisters talk about...
It made me realize that my heart is here. Every day is going to be hard. Language barriers exist, but soon I plan to jump over that barrier. I see that I am needed here, I know these kids need my input in their lives, shame on me for being so concerned about how "useless" I feel..."Oh, Father, use my ransomed life in any way You choose. Let my song forever be 'my only boast is You'"
Anyways, my main verse this week has been Psalm 118:6
"The Lord is on my side, I will not fear. What can mere middle-schoolers do to me?"
Ok, ok, OK. That is not how Psalm 118:6 is written, but...well...You know...
Since writing that, things have gotten more routine. A short-term team came to our compound for a week and they all teach back in the states. They helped us out more than ever and we are still really bummed that they had to leave so soon! They taught us many tips and tricks and, upon returning home, send us all a google doc with science experiments and other helpful things. What a blessing these guys were! Here's a picture of the team that visited:
We were having a lot of trouble with the old principal and my host dad hired a new principal who has set everything in order, calmed the chaos and made everything OK... It is much more routine and I semi-know what I am doing and I have been very committed to the 5th grade class. It has gotten to the point where I want to punch myself for ever thinking that the 5th grade class was the worst class for me...It is my favorite class to teach. The kids have grown accustomed to me and my horribly lame jokes and even come to class with little "biscuits" (cookies) or drawings for me.
Actually...I have found that my 5th graders are fantastic artists and are really creative. Here's some pictures of the class!!
I have grown to love these kids and I almost can't imagine myself doing anything different.
To be honest, if you asked me five years ago if I would want to be a missionary, I would probably laugh you off. I always imagined if I were a missionary, I'd have to be some super-conservative tight old lady with socks above her knees and frown upon happiness and good music.
Annnnd I was wrong. Granted, Brooke five years ago was 16 years old and planned on becoming a rockstar.
*coughing* aaaaanyways.
The longer I stay here, the longer I want to stay. It breaks my heart to imagine going back to America when all of these beautiful lives are here. I love teaching, I love loving on the kids, I love goofing of and living life in a real, genuine way. I love India. I love hugging and fixing boo-boos. I love all of it.
To be totally honest, teaching was my least favorite part of living in India.
In fact, I wrote this in my journal the first month I was here: (Keep in mind, this is from my journal. I want to be 100% authentic with you all, so realize I was very stressed and frustrated when I wrote this)
The kids would not settle down today. I literally sat down on the floor until my fifth graders were so confused that they stopped talking...Today is Saturday, but in India, there is school on Saturdays. I think my least favorite part of missions here is not the bugs, not the sweat, not the smell...but school. Not only is there a language barrier and a huge learning gap...but the kids can hardly understand my accent. It is an English medium school, meaning that all the classes are in English, but the kids don't understand my accent. I feel stupid.
I barely understand the school system, much less the Indian school system and Indian customs in such a conservative area of India, where smacking disruptive students is OK.
There is no order, no plan, I have been put in classes where I don't understand the subject, I have been put in classes where the majority of the students are still learning English. I am mad at myself for ever thinking that teaching here would be a good idea. The children don't understand me and I am mad at myself for not being able to speak Hindi. How foolish of me for not knowing the language, what am I doing?!...
...I feel useless in school...I hate that I don't know what the kids are saying behind my back in Hindi or Oriya...
...I know this is where I am supposed to be right now, though. I feel like it would not be glorifying to God if I remained in America, and I don't know why...Sure, I would have hygiene and constant A/C in America, but it would be so unfulfilling. My desires are only satisfied in doing what He desires of me...and serving is what makes me really, truly, eternally happy and fulfilled.
I was looking out the window last night, gazing at the mountains, praying about staying until November, when suddenly, 14-year old Saroti (from the Children's Hostel I am living at) came up to me, hugged me and gave me a kiss on the cheek. We ended up hugging and looking out at the mountain for several minutes, just her little arms around me, like we were actually sisters. We talked about God and life and things that sisters talk about...
It made me realize that my heart is here. Every day is going to be hard. Language barriers exist, but soon I plan to jump over that barrier. I see that I am needed here, I know these kids need my input in their lives, shame on me for being so concerned about how "useless" I feel..."Oh, Father, use my ransomed life in any way You choose. Let my song forever be 'my only boast is You'"
Anyways, my main verse this week has been Psalm 118:6
"The Lord is on my side, I will not fear. What can mere middle-schoolers do to me?"
Ok, ok, OK. That is not how Psalm 118:6 is written, but...well...You know...
Since writing that, things have gotten more routine. A short-term team came to our compound for a week and they all teach back in the states. They helped us out more than ever and we are still really bummed that they had to leave so soon! They taught us many tips and tricks and, upon returning home, send us all a google doc with science experiments and other helpful things. What a blessing these guys were! Here's a picture of the team that visited:
We were having a lot of trouble with the old principal and my host dad hired a new principal who has set everything in order, calmed the chaos and made everything OK... It is much more routine and I semi-know what I am doing and I have been very committed to the 5th grade class. It has gotten to the point where I want to punch myself for ever thinking that the 5th grade class was the worst class for me...It is my favorite class to teach. The kids have grown accustomed to me and my horribly lame jokes and even come to class with little "biscuits" (cookies) or drawings for me.
Actually...I have found that my 5th graders are fantastic artists and are really creative. Here's some pictures of the class!!
I have grown to love these kids and I almost can't imagine myself doing anything different.
To be honest, if you asked me five years ago if I would want to be a missionary, I would probably laugh you off. I always imagined if I were a missionary, I'd have to be some super-conservative tight old lady with socks above her knees and frown upon happiness and good music.
Annnnd I was wrong. Granted, Brooke five years ago was 16 years old and planned on becoming a rockstar.
*coughing* aaaaanyways.
The longer I stay here, the longer I want to stay. It breaks my heart to imagine going back to America when all of these beautiful lives are here. I love teaching, I love loving on the kids, I love goofing of and living life in a real, genuine way. I love India. I love hugging and fixing boo-boos. I love all of it.
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