Basic Rules of Education, and skip the eel unless you love it

Dear Friends, Family and other notable companions on this journey through Life.

I feel as though I am running a risk of making these letters more personal than informative and knowing that that is the surest way to lose my reading public, I will attempt to share some observations about life in general or Cambodia if you wish.

Tonight I shared a meal with a Cambodian family which was at the worst, surreal, and at the best, a grand display of Cambodian hospitality. My colleagues from the Special Education Office in PP and I are conducting a workshop in Prea Veng on Accelerated Learning. I am including myself in this description inasmuch as I gave an opening talk yesterday about myself and what we are doing in the Special Education Office and two subsequent brief messages on educational methods and values. Today I commented on the concepts of accelerated learning, (not very much) and shared my views of education in Cambodia as compared to America. I gave them my seven (eight?) basic rules of education, which in summary can be described as;

1. Be prepared, plan and carry out the plan even if no one checks on you.
2. Be on time and be at school. The children cannot learn without you being there and what you demonstrate to them, they will do.
3. Unless you know of a very good reason why a child would benefit from spending another year in the same grade, promote him or her. There are countless examples of 16, 17 and 18 year-olds being in first and second grade. Usually they have dropped out for a few years, maybe as many as ten or twelve, before returning.
4. Catch a child being successful and show him or her that you are aware of them being clever, smart and talented. It is always true and the child will grow up to write poems and compose songs singing their praises. This is a paraphrase of what the Homewood schools had emphasized about catching a child being good.
5. Include and incorporate the parents. Find out what talents or skills the parents have and bring them into the classroom. Each teacher might even get lucky and teach a parent or two how to read or do math. At the very least it will be another pair of hands.
6. Incorporate everything into your lessons. Math and Khmer are critical, but science and social studies are also vital. For example, you do not want to repeat some history, especially in Cambodia. I thought this was a little edgy but I seem to have gotten away with it. Use recess and life at home to use math and listening and writing skills daily. Even if you have to scrawl something in the dirt. UNICEF will get you more materials if you show that you will do something with them.
7. Keep your classes lively and above all active. Never allow more than 15 or 20 minutes to pass without a new activity, preferably something involving movement. With 50+ students in a class, this requires good planning
8. Try to never teach 50+ students unless it is a lesson that will work best being taught to a whole group. But never let it last so long that the kids get tired of you. See the previous rule. Break the class into groups and rotate the groups often. Ten groups of five are easier and better than one group of 50. Control the groups and insure that the four or five children (or ten or twelve) with special needs are always in a group with someone who can support them or help them. Check on them often and when something is not working change it. This will be as hard as good lesson planning, but will get easier over time and will in fact allow you to get to know your students better. Use the parents to get adequate information.

I was surprised that the rules went over as well as they did but then again I generally tend to underestimate the power of teachers to take simple concepts and make golden rules of them.

Education is a different system in Cambodia and it is struggling to make a go of it. The ministry of education is almost entirely dependent on donor aid to survive and the impact of certain NGOs like Krousar Thmey (“New Family” in Khmei) training teachers, and teaching blind and deaf children is awesome. The Helen Keller Foundation is also here but their work is mainly in the areas of nutrition so as to prevent blindness. Catholic relief services are a valued agency and of course, “Concern”, an Irish organization, is doing its bit as well.

Ten or twelve years ago, the United Nations at a series of international meetings adopted a concept of Child Friendly Schools. At first glance this seems like such as obvious choice of philosophy that it beggars any argument. However the simple basis of the scheme was to stop hitting and punishing kids routinely. Also show some of the kids work on the walls. A big move forward was to include kids in the exchange between teacher and student. Before it had been mainly the teacher telling and the kids listening (?).

The concept grew to include gender awareness, community mapping to find out where the kids were who should be in school and inclusive education or “Reaching the Unreached”. They are now talking about building schools with ramps for more than just driving your moto up into the classroom or under the overhang. Teachers are beginning to plant gardens and promotion and retention rates as well as statistics on how many girls are enrolled are being kept. The retention rates which were at one time near 30 or 40 %, and that is just for the kids who were in school, are dropping to 12 or 15%. Teachers charging for snacks, extra tutoring, uniforms, and other sundry items which often spelled the difference between a family being able to afford to send their child to school or not, is slowly eroding. The ban (that’s right, a ban!) on hiring women teachers with disabilities is not a law yet, but it is moving in that direction.

I continue to study and try to understand the Khmer people. It is a slow and difficult process and I think I understand it is a task that would require far more social science training than I have had and many more years than I am willing to give to the task. However, in order to make sense of my world I need to look for clues as to why groups act as they do and at the same time try not to either be judgmental or casual in making allowances for traits I find curious or outright negative. That said, I should end this portion of the letter now because I realize that I will fail in all of these efforts and at the risk of being deemed a racist or bigot, I will share some thoughts.

Tonight, as I said, I shared a meal with a Cambodian family, the daughter of whom was a student of Saroeun, my friend from the SEO office. Everything was thoroughly Cambodian from the menu to the sitting style to the conversation and assortment of people in the room. I was the only westerner in the room which was large and filled the role of being the living room, dining area and sleeping quarters for at least two or three of the people present. One of them was a female paying guest who is attending our workshop and could only afford to come by renting a room and meals for 8000 to 12000 riels ($2 to $3) a day. What she saves on her per diem of $5 a day she can use to pay for her transportation and if she is really lucky, supplement her income of $30 a month by a few more dollars. The room I mentioned she is renting, is in reality a bamboo mat on the floor but it is not unusual for family members to have the same sleeping arrangements. This same woman had earlier in the day gotten sick and barfed all over the floor and outside the nearest doorway. It was right after my talk about the seven rules of education. I refuse to think I had anything to do with it. Her performance drew at least half of the audience of 40 participants to watch her chuck her groceries. Then they unceremoniously “hauled” her to a table where they applied the ageless cure of “coining”. This is taking a coin and vigorously rubbing the arm or chest to rid the offending humors from the victim. At the same time a few of the women and men were massaging her back and legs and occasionally feeling her forehead. I thought it would be a good idea to hold a mirror to her mouth but she indicated life by moving her shoulder when one of her well-wishers stopped rubbing it.

When she regained consciousness it was decided to take her home or to the place where she was staying. Coincidentally, it was the same place that my four colleagues and I were going to have dinner that night. My friend Saroeun had the only car so we took her and two other women to the house. Saroeun and I stayed downstairs while they made her comfortable, and we chatted with the girl who was going to have the dinner for us. She had also been with us the night before matching all of the Khmei men drink for drink and not only holding her own, but also forcing them to back down. Since I was only drinking beer while they were drinking wine and I did not engage in all of the “Cheers” and “Chee-ups” that precede every drink, I was in great shape to be an observer. I also taught them “slainte” and made sure they understood it was Irish, not English or American.

Anyway, when I asked if maybe the dinner was postponed due to the convalescence of the lady, Saroeun replied that it was on, why would it not be? I mentioned that maybe the lady will die and that might cause a loss of good will in the household. Saroeun didn’t think that would happen so we stayed on to have dinner.

The room held ten of us, including the convalescing lady who at one point groaned painfully but later recovered enough to have a couple of plates of food given to her. I did not include the young boy in the count because he seemed to come and go and not be a constant member of the dinner party. There was a really old guy (86), older than me as many would point out often, who was there but spent most of his time watching me. Of the ten there was only me and two others who spoke English and since all of the conversation was in Khmer, I was generally a reader of body language more than anything.

The dinner was superb. A hot plate that utilized charcoal as a fuel, rice, noodles, and several different dishes. I had a plentiful amount of eel, which I really don’t like because it is too bony (spine-like articulated bones), and regular fish, which I really do like, once I get past the bones. Dessert was mangos and bananas, which were good. I half expected some Lambanoug, which is a palm wine in the Philippines and rather potent, but none came and I was pleased. I finished with a complimentary toothpick, again traditional, and thanked my hostess profusely for making me feel at home. The ailing lady by this time was sitting up and telling us about her sister who married a Canadian and lives in Canada. Her husband is way fatter than I am and her sister is only 45 kilos, about 99 pounds. I didn’t bother to mention that Love is blind.

Now I am back in my $4 a night hotel room. I always get a room by myself wherever I can since I am rich and can afford to pay extra. My per diem is twice as much as the lady at the conference – a whopping $10 a day, which I have to collect receipts for if I wish to get compensated. This computes out at $6 a night for a room and $4 for food. After six days here I will probably be another 10 to $15 over my budget because I bought the drinks the night of the drinking fest. This trip is definitely not life in the fast lane and I will be very happy to get back to my new digs and kick back. I will share more about that later.

In the meanwhile, stay loose and enjoy life and skip the eel unless you really love it. I remain, Paco, the chauffeured Barang in Prea Veng, Cambodia.

P. S. I forgot my camera and am going crazy with all of the missed photo ops.

Chinese New Year

Dear Friends, Family and other notable companions on this journey through Life.

Another brief note on the ways of Phnom Penh and in turn, Cambodia. I continue to marvel at the ways of drivers both foreign and domestic in this capital city of Cambodia.

The traffic, which I have always found to be similar to rush hour in downtown Chicago with a fraction of Chicago’s population, has shown me the Ying and Yang of traffic influences. First, the Ying. On Chinese New year (February 6-7-8) a cannon shot down the main thoroughfares would certainly have hit someone, probably a Barang, but it would have an equal chance of hurtling a long distance before it did find its mark. The city was absolutely churchlike in its silence and respect for the holiday. The huge public markets were for the most part closed, which doesn’t occur at other times of the year in my impression. I will defer further judgment on a similar happening until the Khmer New Year which is April 13-14-15. In my research I have discovered that it is estimated that 80% of the Cambodian people are linked somehow to the Chinese. This is either being of full Chinese lineage or a large percentage of their ancestry. They all claim to be Cambodian but whether they are Khmer is speculative. The semantics on this whole topic area arguable since to be Cambodian is to be Khmer, but to be Chinese is to be culturally significant.

So, here I was, not exactly celebrating the New Year, but thoroughly enjoying the quiet, the run of the streets on my moto, and the general calm that existed throughout. Unlike the frenzy of the International New Year, which exists here as well as in the States or at least the major cities, this was celebrated with stores closing, people going to pagodas or “pak odahs” as it is pronounced locally, and a few firework displays. I could drive down Noradom, and Monivong, and Mao Tse Tung and only have a few motos and cars for company. I could travel one end of the city to another and the traffic lights would either only be blinking or all green, or off and no confusion or problems at any intersections. The more serious traffic would be on the side street intersections where the random crisscross of traffic would have the car and/or motos come across each other in a surprise occurrence that rarely would be serious since everyone for the most part has learned, (yours truly, included) to be cautious at any crossing. The use of the omnipresent horn is for this circumstance.

Now for the yang. This week I have been afflicted with the bane of the tropics, intestinal issues, or in more common layman’s language, chronic diarrhea. It manifests in the usual format but also carries the added burden of flu like symptoms, that is, head ache, severe fatigue, and the added cross of never wanting to be very far from a toilet. I managed for a day or two and then went to our company doctor and she prescribed – no work for three days, serious antibiotics (flagyl and cipro) and lots of fluids. Today is the last of the three days off of work and I will be glad to go back.

But not to digress too much, I did go out for meals starting yesterday to get a change from the soup and sandwiches I was eating, again according to doctor’s orders to eat something – anything, to assist the pills I was taking. I made the mistake of leaving my house about 5 Pm and after chatting for a few minutes with my landlady, I drove off on Street 63 toward the complex of restaurants and shops in NGO Land that my part of town is known by. Street 63 as I may have mentioned earlier is a quiet, tree lined, very small town-like, French colonial residential street that is a pleasure to look at and walk down. Yesterday however I was amazed at the sheer volume of traffic. It would have been easier to walk than to try and drive anything even a bicycle. And at certain intersections it was absolutely gridlocked. I turned off beautiful Street 63 because I thought it was a local condition, but every street I tried was the same. Finally I got to the little vegetarian roof top restaurant I have discovered which gives me a nice view of the main drag of Sihanouk and Norodom and it was like watching a circus and a grand parade and a political convention all rolled into one. My analogy of the river still holds true for traffic but this river was turgid, and choked with fallen trees and at full flood stage. Traffic moved, but ponderously, and with very little incentive. This lasted for a good half an hour or so and when I left, it was better but still full of all sorts of vehicles and traffic. I have to add trucks to the mix at this point. I don’t think I have mentioned them previously because I never really noticed them before. But now they create an even greater influence because none of the traffic wants to be behind them and no one wants to give way and everybody is reluctant to challenge them too severely. So you have a continual series of “chicken” being played, with the trucks inevitably winning and moving along like dinosaurs heading for their last round-up. That’s the ying and yang of traffic in Phnom Penh.

These months are good for lots of plant life in Cambodia, but since I am such a city guy I can only speak directly to what I see outside my apartment or from my balcony. In my courtyard there is a mango tree, which I can reach from my balcony. Across the little street is a palm tree with coconuts growing on it. Down the street is another mango tree. I have attached photos in what I hope will become a more visual experience in my future newsletters since I am afraid you will be bored with incessant descriptions of traffic, personal life, Yatta, Yatta, Yatta. The mangos are becoming bigger and riper each day and soon I will be able to just pluck one and add a sour shrimp paste or whatever goes with mangos (raw is good) and have a treat. The coconuts I will leave to whoever likes coconut milk (I don’t) and the meat, which is good for Amok, which is Khmer for many dishes, made with this liquid (which I do like). When I first arrived in Cambodia and heard about this type of cuisine I though it was an adjective for the state of life, but I soon changed my opinion.

Next week I am on my own in the office because my office mates are all off to Bangkok to present a paper on Bilingual education. They are truly saddened that I am not going since I helped a lot in preparing the paper but VSO is undergoing dramatic budget cutbacks and I was not authorized. If I had thought more about it I should have just gone ahead and joined them anyway. Next time. When they return however, they and I will head out for Siem Reap for a Deaf/blind conference. I am not sure which area I represent –probably the dumb, since I will never have full confidence in my language skills. That will cover a couple of days. Then back to the furnace of activity in Phnom Penh and more of the same old, same old. In the meanwhile, Continue being yourselves and know that I miss you and care for you.

Your wandering pilgrim, Paco the not so agrarian type.