remember this day

President Umar Musa Yar'Adua passed away last night. He was 58, and had struggled for several years with kidney problems and, more recently, pericarditis, for which he was treated in Saudi Arabia last November. (Is this reading like a BBC report to you?)

On some levels, this has been expected. On some levels, this was hoped for. As Yar'Adua was failing physically, Nigeria was stagnating. According to a few local sources, he refused to relinquish the presidential duties to his vice president, Goodluck Jonathan, until the Congress voted him Acting President.

That was back in February. It's now May, and while President Yar'Adua has been alive since then, it feels as though Goodluck Jonathan has been the (I almost wrote "our"...weird) president the entire time. I anticipate a smooth transition as former President Yar'Adua is buried in Katsina State today and as Goodluck Jonathan is officially sworn in.

Nigeria will continue with its regularly scheduled presidential elections next spring and President Jonathan will finish out the term until that time. (Phasing out of reporter mode in 3, 2, 1...)

I hope that together, Jonathan, his new deputy, and the next President can move Nigeria forward, in every sense. This is a beautiful nation, with 150 million natural assets, and by working together, I truly believe Nigeria can become a true force.

As a result of this news, school was canceled today. We did our market shopping and are off to dinner and movie with some fellow school staff members.

To end on a cuter note, here's a written apology I received Tuesday from a student who, together with another boy, was so disruptive during my class, I walked them both to the principal's office. The second boy was suspended, and I received this note from the first:

4/5/10 Sorry Miss Thomas

Sorry Miss Thomas for makeing noise in your class time. I will never make noise angin. If i do i will be going out of the school. I am very sorry plezz plaese please please forgive me.

Of course, he did make noise the very next day, but I went a little easier on him.

cheaters never prosper

...unless they're in government.

(Just kidding. Today's political humor brought to you by an American not living in America.)

I assigned essays to four classes over Easter Break. I know, I know, who gives homework before a holiday? But knowing these students, they need the extra time to do the research and writing process. A full week with no class seemed like a good opportunity. Besides, it was only a rough draft due when they returned from break.

Then a student who ordinarily struggles to put together a complete sentence produced a 3-page, single-spaced persuasive essay on the causes and solutions of air pollution.

WARNING DANGER RED ALERT

Hello, plagiarism.

I started typing in words and phrases into a Google search, and up popped the Wikipedia article. Directly copy and pasted. He didn't even bother with an introduction. Or a conclusion, for that matter. He literally stopped at the end of the third page, even though he was in the middle of an argument against gas engines. I took my highlighter to every word that was not his own.

Then I did the same with the next paper. And the next. And the next. 10 essays later, I was disappointed and frustrated. And a little bit stupefied that these kids actually thought they could pull one over on ol' teach here. I mean, two of them copied from each other. How dumb do they think I am?

Then again, that's not a fair rhetorical question. The better question is: how lazy are they? They had 11 days to type a 2-page double-spaced essay with two sources, neither of which could be Wikipedia. (They were astonished by the concept of reliable and unreliable resources.) It wasn't even a final draft! Only a rough draft!

Thus, their copying directly from Wikipedia told me that they were lacking in motivation. And I was determined to give it to them.

The next day, I passed back the 16 essays, 10 of which had yellow highlighter markings. I asked everyone who turned in an essay to stand up. Then I asked everyone who didn't have any highlighter to sit down. They totally bought it. They thought it was a game. While I theoretically cannot condone the shaming of a child, I spoke directly to the standing students and gave them a speech that went something like this:
"You're standing because the words in your essay aren't yours. They are someone else's and you copy-and-pasted them and put your name at the top. If I wanted to read what someone else thinks about these environmental issues, I would have gone out to Wikipedia, or GoogleNews, or CNN or BBC and read their articles. I want to know what YOU think. I care what YOU think. I want to hear YOUR ideas for solutions."

I then cautioned the entire class: anything highlighted must be deleted from the essay. For 5 students, this meant starting completely over. They have the rest of the week and the weekend to produce a final draft. If there's any further plagiarism, they'll receive a zero.

This sort of situation brings up some real issues for me in regards to standards of excellence here in Nigeria. Cheating, excuses, copying, missing work, late work, laziness: some teachers just smile and shake their heads, but I can't do that.

If you ask my Grade 6 for my test-taking mantra, they'll chant for you: "Talking = Cheating = Failing." If you ask my Grade 12 for my late work policy, they will tell you: "No late work. If it's late, it's a zero."

I know I'm the only high school teacher with a late work policy, but I can't compromise. These students can be held to a high standard. I agree I must make reasonable expectations for them, but expecting them to turn in work when it's due is not unreasonable.

Because we're starting the last quarter of the school year, I gave my students the following pledge:
No more zeroes. I will make sure of it. I will push you until you bleed. [The boys grunted their approval.] I will push you until you cry. I will push you until you hate me. [One girl in the back cried out, "We could never hate you, Miss Thomas!"] You will not fail my class this term. Cue the inspirational music...

But so help me, if those final drafts are plagiarized, I'm going to be handing out big fat zeroes, whether I want to or not.

Resignation, Evaluation, and Blooming Where Planted

I've reluctantly accepted that teaching is not my favorite hobby. Unfortunately, my voice is too loud and my fuse too short to be a good combination in a Grade 6 classroom.

Believe me, I'm trying. I'm trying to change my tone of voice. I'm trying to push my level of patience well past limitless. I'm failing quite miserably, to be honest. The amount of times I lost my temper this week is embarrassing and shameful. I'm a grownup; I should have better control.

The truth is I'm tired. I'm frustrated with my kids for being kids, and frustrated with myself for that. I really wish I could love this job AND have the incredible patience for it. In short, I've totally broken my New Year's Resolution. Crap.

Then I had my formal teaching evaluation. The superintendent observed 2 of my classes last week and later gave me the written feedback. You guys, the writeup actually contained the phrase "born teacher." The whole thing was so shiny and positive it could have been a gold star. Can that possibly be true, this week's meltdowns notwithstanding?

If she's wrong, it means my students are the issue. When she's there, they're angels. When she's gone, I burst a blood vessel.
If she's right, however, then teaching is something I may do well, but don't love doing.

Allow me to convey how much this catch-22 sucks. If I stop teaching, it will feel like a waste. I can see my students finally connecting to literature, and to walk away now will feel like abandonment. If I stay, burnout will be a very real issue for me. I don't like the idea of being that teacher who's really good when she's in a good mood, and terribly ineffective when she's mad.

I wish I loved teaching enough to make it enough to stay. I don't.

Edit: Despite my leanings, I have not made a final decision yet.
I'm holding out until the deadline. Bear with me.

Hump Day, Being a Valentine + A Quote

It's Wednesday. Only Wednesday. This week has dragged, but tomorrow is our last day of regular classes and Friday is Sports Day: no class, all fun, and I get to wear jeans.

Today, a student asked me to be his valentine. It would have been precious, but the student is in Grade 6, somewhere around 12 years old. I told him he's too young for me, so he put his arm around my shoulders (he's almost my height) and said, "But if I was your age...?" Um, still no. Nice try, though.

I started Jhumpa Lahiri's Unaccustomed Earth today (the Lit teacher reads in her spare time...can you imagine?). She's a favorite author of mine, having first read from her collection Interpreter of Maladies in a Creative Writing class, then again in my Senior Seminar class. In between the two, my best friend gave me the book upon her return from a semester in India. Lahiri's kind of a big deal in the literary world and I'm a big fan of her take on the human condition. I'm anxious to see how she continues to prove her mastery of short story in this collection.

It sort of had me at hello, however.

Check out the epigraph:

Human nature will not flourish, any more than a potato, if it be planted and replanted, for too long a series of generations, in the same worn-out soil. My children have had other birthplaces, and, so far as their fortunes may be within my control, shall strike their roots into unaccustomed earth. --Nathaniel Hawthorne, "The Custom-House"

They just don't write 'em like they used to. Sigh.

Today

...was a great day!

February is Reading Emphasis month at ICS, and grades K-12 are participating in D.E.A.R. (Drop Everything And Read), in which students drop whatever they're doing and read a book they've chosen (one appropriate to their own reading level). Grade 6 is my most out-of-control class, but today the kids settled right down with their DEAR books and it was silent--completely!--for 20 minutes. I was so shocked I honestly left the class to get my camera. When I came back--still silent! When I took a picture and a video--still silent! I could have cried for happiness.

Next was Grade 12. I've been struggling with this Brit Lit class,--blamed on a lack of interest and respect--but I put on a brave face today, determined not to let their antics ruffle me. A student affected this fake accent just to mess with me, so I mirrored his speech so he could hear how ridiculous he sounded. He gave up. Miss Maggie: 1, Grade 12: 0.

The rest of the morning was spent out of class for Sports Day Practice. I get a little intense about competition (a massive understatement) and my throat is scratchy after cheering on the Red Draco team this morning! We're number 1, not 2, not 3, not 4. We're gonna win, not lose, not tie the score...

The entire morning was punctuated by clobbering hugs from Grade 2 students. Niyi jumped me about 5 times. Feyi, Ugonna, and Seun fought over who got the frontal full-body hug. Getting loved on by 8-year-olds has to be one of the greatest feelings in the world.

As the morning practice wrapped up, one of the kindergarteners tripped and fell. She burst into these choking little sobs and I picked her up to examine her hand. The palm was intact - not even a grass stain - but I kissed it anyway. It totally worked. I'm not even a Mom yet and I'm kissing owies to make it all better. Oh man I love my life.

I can't wait to see tomorrow, because I loved today.

Follow-up and Chipmunks

I don't suppose that was very wise of me--posting about sketchy security-related events without providing any further news. Allow me to rectify the situation.

I'm fine. Abuja is fine. Everything is secure. In fact, roads were clear and safe by the time I left school yesterday. Nothing to see here; move along. I apologize that I gave any cause for concern.

I went to the movies today. Silverbird is a brand-new complex in the heart of Abuja, and it boasts movie theaters on the top floor, restaurants, shops, even a little bowling alley (which looks more like skee-ball at an arcade, if you ask me). Most of the store spaces are still empty, that's how new it is. Construction is still ongoing; there are cranes in the parking lot, and the access roads are not yet paved. Nigerians are impatient when it comes to these things (and this is the closest thing we have to a mall), so it's been in operation for the past few months.

Anyways, I went to the movies with a Nigerian friend. Said friend fits multiple categories: friend, little sister, neighbor, boss's daughter, 10th grade student, etc. Today, going to the movies, she was my friend. She chose Alvin and the Chipmunks. As a testament to my otherwise finite patience, I went anyways. (The last time I went to a kids' movie was 5 years ago and I was nannying 4 children under the age of 12.) Needless to say, it wasn't what I would have chosen, but that's okay.

So we're 2 of 4 people in the whole theater. Which was cool, until a massive group of youngsters came streaming screaming in. I rolled my eyes and hoped none of them would sit behind me and kick my seat. As they chose seats all around us, I thought I recognized a face or two. Don't be stupid, Maggie, I thought, and don't assume you'll recognize every black kid that lives in Abuja.

Then I realized I did know them. All of them. Even their names. Turns out my entire 6th grade class decided to meet up at the cinema today. And what's more, they all thought it was really cool that Miss Thomas was there, too. Score one for Miss Thomas. Hugs all around.

I wonder how fast this is going to spread through school: that Miss Maggie was at Alvin and the Chipmunks (which is pretty cute for a kids' movie, I guess) or that she was in jeans and a T-shirt, or that she was with a student. I'll tally how many comments I get on Monday and let you know.

Diving Back Into Life

I've been back in Abuja for all of 40 hours now, and I'm diving right back into life. Routine feels good. So did the clobbering hug I got from my 6th graders when I walked into class. It feels good to be missed, too.

The New Year is a really really big deal here, much more than I expected. Christians go to church on New Year's Day, people set big resolutions, and "Happy New Year" has totally replaced the standard Nigerian greetings. Now I understand why people were so shocked that I left America on the first day of the year!

My 8th graders asked me about my New Year's Resolutions. (I think they were just trying to delay starting class, sneaky little things.) Their query gave me pause because I rarely set New Year's Resolutions; I generally shy away from imminent failure. Now that I've had a few hours to think it over, I've come up with a few small resolutions (lowercase r because I'm still hesitant to declare it with as much finality).

1. Stop using cliches. I've noticed that my blog post are disgustingly and shockingly overrun with the most trite phrases in my vocabulary. If I want to be serious about my writing and be taken seriously, I need to learn how to state things in an original way!

2. Practice more self-control in the classroom. I'm sure this will shock you, but one can lose one's temper patience quite easily in a room full of middle-school children. I don't want to be a teacher that gets red-faced when students won't settle down. I want to be the teacher who makes Literature so alive that my students don't have time to be distracted. I've seen a few "enraptured" moments happen this year, and it leaves me feeling quite triumphant. For their sake, if not for my own selfish pride, I want to see more of those moments!

3. Figure out my passion in life. I feel like, at 22, there is no overarching or uniting theme to my life. I feel very much like an anthology of loosely connected snippets and scraps; the only connective tissue is the grace of God. My life is full of people who know their life passion, and I want the same direction. Being blindly obedient has brought me many blessings, but this whole "I have no idea where I'm going be in 9 months" thing is more than a little frustrating. That being said, I will continue to follow God wherever he leads me, regardless of whether or not I know where we're going. It worked for Abraham...

Little things: It's hot here. KLM lost my bags; I don't have deodorant or a hairbrush. Our whole house is a hot dusty mess from Harmattan.

Big things: God is still faithful. I'm where I need to be. Amen and amen.

Fully Alive

The following stories, anecdotes, and glimpses into my new life cohere together to create a feeling my best friend Laura calls being fully alive. (Shout-out to Saint Irenaeus of Lyons, who coined it first: "The glory of God is man fully alive.") I am, perhaps for the first time, in that state of feeling fully alive, and it is so glorious (pun intended) I don't ever want to leave.

First: Spanish. I have always loved this language. Even when the subjunctive verb tense threatened to undo me, I still thought it was beautiful. Moving to Nigeria, I realized, would not give me much opportunity to use my Spanish, but here I am, nonetheless.
On Sunday I remarked to Jan (my flatmate) that I might like to introduce a Spanish language and culture club to the school in the Spring, because I miss speaking it so badly. Maybe some of the students would enjoy learning a new language, in addition to the French they already take in school.
But then again, my God knows me well. Even before a word is on my tongue, my Lord knows it altogether. (Psalm 139:3-4)
Yesterday, ICS received a new student in 3rd grade. He is from Cuba, and doesn't speak any English at all. Guess who his new ESL teacher is?! I've been designated to help him find his feet as quickly as possible, and couldn't be happier with the prospect.
I found him on the playground today and introduced myself in Spanish. He didn't say much, but then after school when his father came to pick him up, Gabriel brought him to me and introduced us. We had a full conversation in Spanish, and I managed not to confuse my verb conjugations too much!
This is fully alive - using a passion that God has given to benefit someone else. Glory to God!

Second: representing Wheaton. The college fair went well yesterday. I think there were a few hundred students there with their teachers, from schools all over Abuja. We brought our 15 10th-12th graders, but there were easily 10 other schools there. I gave my little presentation in the morning session ("Deadlines are fixed, not fluid...") and everyone was very attentive. I wasn't nervous, but my kids told me afterward that I spoke too fast. I suppose some habits die hard.
When the tables were open later in the day, I settled in, expecting a few kids to stop by and ask a question or two. I did not expect the floods of students flocking to me because they'd seen me on stage, or the rapid-fire questions about studying medicine and law in the U.S., or the frenzy to sign up on the Wheaton list, even though they knew nothing about the school! I recognized some patterns in them that I've learned are classically Nigerian, and I finally refused to give them handouts unless they listened to my explanation of Wheaton.
Oh, my dear friends, please tell me how to explain the concept of a liberal arts college to a young man who wants to get to America at any cost, regardless of the fact that his English is virtually incomprehensible. Please also tell me how to inform two Muslim young women that Wheaton is a Christian school and accepts only Christian students. Given the dual nature of this city, I found that a particularly difficult burden.
The fair was organized like any typical American college fair, but the students brought the Nigerian flavor. Most of them approached my table and held out their hands, face-up, for whatever paperwork I would give them. Most did not greet, or ask questions, or even bother to look at what college I was representing. They just wanted the information, quick and dirty.
As frustrated as that left me, I thought about the possibilities of that day. Even if just one student follows up on the information I gave him, and goes to the website, or emails the Admissions Office for more information, it will be one more student that would never have heard about Wheaton otherwise.
And that's all my job is - to tell people about an experience that changed my life and that could change theirs, too. Besides, I don't think the Admissions Office can afford to send a counselor out this way very often, and since I'm already on the ground...
This is fully alive - to testify to the ways God changed your life by using the college you attended, and to know that the telling brings glory to the One who ordained it.

Third: Drama Club. We're already preparing our presentation for the Christmas program - The Nativity. Today, I taught 20 1st-3rd graders the song "We Three Kings." Then I convinced Kamsi to be an innkeeper, Tasneem to be a Wise Man, and Anisa to be a shepherd, even though all 3 wanted to be angels. Kamsi and Tasneem didn't take much convincing - I just told them that the angel parts require very little acting, so we needed to utilize their incredible acting talents for the more difficult roles (which, let's be honest, was speaking a little prophetically).
Tasneem's response? "You mean you give me the important part because you know I can do it?" Yes, my dear little one, and because the birth of Christ was attended by more than just 20 Nigerian angels.
Little Anisa didn't want to be a shepherd, but when I asked her if she was a very good big sister, she assured me she was. "All right, then," I explained, "Shepherds have to be very responsible people. They have to protect their sheep at all costs. And in the drama, they have to lead the other students onstage. Do you think you can handle that responsibility?" In response, I got a huge smile and the sweetest little neck-strangling hug there ever was.
This is fully alive - making my precious little ones proud of themselves. His Kingdom belongs to such as these, I get to love on them and receive love in return. Glory to God!

Fourth: Sixth Grade. This class can be talkative to the point of disrespect, and mischievous to the point of amusement. Days with them are a toss-up; it's just as likely to end in frustration or glee. Today was tough. The four loudest boys could not keep their mouths shut. While I followed the guidelines Mrs. O taught us yesterday at our staff training on discipline and told the boys to talk to me after class, they still didn't quiet down. After class, I sent them all out into the hall, and before I could even open my mouth to tell them how disappointed I was in their behavior, I began to affirm them. Respect and love, not anger or disappointment, controlled my voice, and I found myself telling the boys that they steer the behavior of the rest of the class. "You four boys are a very powerful group," I told them, "and if we work together, everyone else will follow you, too. But if you're distracting, no one else will listen to me. I need you to help me keep the class attentive. Can you do that?" Of course, the boys nodded, they will help me keep order in the class, because I told them they have the ability to do it.
Now, tomorrow, we'll know if that approach worked, but I loved that I didn't have to yell or get angry or even show my disappointment in them. We ended the day on a happy note, those 4 and I, and that left me grateful.
This is fully alive - encouraging a child to his highest potential and expecting them to live up to it. To call out the best in someone else because God calls out the best in you makes me feel purposeful and satisfied. Praise the Lord.

And I just showed up for my own life
and I'm standing here, taking it in,
and it sure looks bright...
- Sara Groves