Elfreth's Alley

Elfreth's Alley is a little side street in Philadelphia that is called the "oldest residential street in the United States." It's a very pretty little street. The current homes were built between 1728 and 1836, but the street has been home to residences since 1702.

Museum Week

Independence Day is apparently not enough in this lovely city. Instead, we have had Independence Week. A number of museums contributed to the festivities by waiving their admission price for a day.

On Monday, I foolishly fell for the lure of free admission and went to check out the Franklin Institute. I'm glad I went but apparently every parent in Philadelphia with two or more children had also heard that there was free entry. It was packed with too many people, and the majority were children. Still, I got to say hello to Ben:

Thursday's experience was much better. Ben was once again sighted. He's everywhere!

I snapped a picture of the Mint:

and then made my way to the Constitution Center. The crowds were a little less chaotic and a little more mature. There was a wonderful exhibit of photographs of the Kennedy family, taken during JFK's campaign and presidency. There was also a great exhibit on the Bill of Rights and a beautiful display of the various state flags. 

I also inadvertently walked by Ben's grave and the Arch Street Friends Meeting House.

William Penn deeded the land to the Society of Friends for their use in 1701, originally to be used for burials. The Meeting House was built later and is still in use by the Quakers.

Fireworks!

I got my fireworks fix a little early this year. June 29th was the start of Independence Week here in the city of Brotherly love. My cousin was in the city for a conference, and she I made plans to meet for the festivities at Penn's Landing.

We found a pretty spot underneath a gazebo of sorts and enjoyed some life music before the fireworks barge moved into place. We ended up being perfectly located and the pyrotechnic display was lovely!

The finale was perfectly timed to end with a beautiful rendition of the Star Spangled Banner. 

Monday FUNday

Yesterday, my friend Ricci decided to visit Philadelphia on her day off. She and I are similar in a lot of ways. When she contacted me about visiting on Monday, I responded with a suggested activity that I knew would cement her plans: Trader Joe's! Ricci and I both love this grocery store, and since there aren't many in her area, we made plans to start our day by meeting for some grocery shopping!

After our shopping adventures concluded, we got some lunch and ate in the shade at the Rodin Museum. We paused for a few quick pictures with the Thinker.

After returning to my apartment to put all the groceries in the fridge, we visited the well-known Love sign at JFK Plaza and made our way to dinner. 

Ricci had suggested we do a nice dinner out, to celebrate my birthday (which was in March) and my graduation. Dinner was a delicious mix of swordfish kebabs and fennel salad, spanakopita, and figs and goat cheese drizzled with honey. For dessert, we went to a different nearby restaurant to share tiramisu and salted caramel budino. It was all excellent. 

It was a wonderful day and even better to catch up with a good friend. 

Just another pretty street...

There is something incredible about blending functionality with beauty. When on the vespa tour in rome, which I mentioned in my last post, our guide Valentino showed us a beautiful neighborhood of Rome. He told us that this was socialized housing. It was gorgeous. Homes were unique, well-built, beautiful. He told us that this came about during a period when politicians realized that residents would take better care of something that was beautiful, even if they didn't own it. It also sends a message that everyone deserves a clean, safe, and even beautiful place to live. 

I love that message. I think of it when I'm walking around cities now. In so many of our cities, the economic status of the neighborhood can be inferred from the exterior of the homes and the condition of the streets. There is a supposition that renters will damage a property and owners will improve it. Why is this?  I'm a renter, with no desire to buy an apartment or a house at this point in my life. But I have a desire to make my living space as beautiful as possible, in the same way that any home owner might!

Well, that was a bit of a tangent! I started thinking about all this on Sunday as I walked around the Old City of Philadelphia. Trees shade beautiful brick homes and small side streets. I love this part of the city, but I also know just by looking at the neighborhood that I can't afford to live there. It prompted the above thoughts, making me wonder why we think a higher income bracket should correlate with the beauty of one's home. 

This is just one pretty little street in Old City. I loved the raised brick flowerbeds on either side of the doorway and the contrast of the blue shutters and door with the red brick. As I walked by another alleyway, my senses were suddenly overwhelmed with the sweet smell of honeysuckle. (It was certainly one of the typical smells I have learned to associated with urban side-streets!) Still, it was a wonderful reminder to savor the moments of beauty that our Creator slips into our days. 

Creatures Great and Small

Friends of mine were out of town for the weekend, and I had the opportunity to return the hospitality they have shown me on many occasions by house- and dog-sitting. Piper is a three year old Italian Mastiff and I believe she is just over 100 pounds of puppy. 

I miss having pets and it was a treat to get to have a dog for a few days. Piper is allowed on the furniture, and she makes herself comfortable wherever she pleases! She likes to push down the back cushions of the sofa and prop her head on the windowsill, surveying the South Philly street outside. 

When her curiosity wanes, she likes to move to the corner of the sofa for a snooze. The old adage does say, "Let sleeping dogs lie..." So I did! 

Roma

I think now that I have a little extra time on my hands, I'll catch up on some of the experiences from last year. They will likely be in no particular order. Writing on this blog has become a way of recording my adventures, big and small alike.

Due to the insanity of last autumn, I didn't take the time to write anything here. Every effort in writing was focused solely on my M.Ed. I can read for hours for school or work, but still enjoy reading for pleasure to unwind. Not so with writing!

When I was planning my thesis trip to the ME, I found out a friend was going to be Rome for a month. Part of her time overlapped with my travels. After a quick flurry of emails, I went to my favorite flight-booking website and found that adding a four day diversion to Rome would only add about $100 to my flight. With an offer of a sofa to sleep on, it was a perfect chance to revisit the Eternal City. So, after my six or seven week stint in the ME, I flew to Germany and then to Italy. The next few days, Meredith had language classes and I wandered the city on my own. In the evenings, Meredith showed me her favorite spots for dinner and for gelato. We splurged on a Vespa Tour of the forgotten spots of Rome. The guys at Dear Roma were wonderful tour guides.

I'm not even certain what the building is in this picture. Meredith and I were walking home from dinner one night and walked around the corner to see this gorgeous view of the moon and the dome. 

Piazza Navona

This is the Piazza Navona, as seen from the restaurant of the Museo Roma. It is beautiful, even on a rainy, overcast November day. 

 I love the many alleys and curving pathways that wind through old cities. I probably have countless pictures from all over the world. I'm also particularly susceptible to the beauty of vines clinging to old buildings. :)

Meredith endeared herself to several local restaurant owners in her neighborhood. While at one of these restaurants, the owner did his best to spoil us, bringing us complimentary cookies and even limoncello, an Italian lemon liqueur. I could only handle a few sips! It is often served as a digestivo, or a drink served after a meal to aid digestion. 

This picture was taken on our Vespa Tour. We hopped off the vespas to hear more about the Circus Maximus and Palatine Hill. History is amazing.

A few quick snaps with the Vespa guides!

Graduation! (A month late)

My Masters seems to be a distant memory already! The completion of my final project required major effort. I enjoyed my research and writing time overseas a little too much, and got behind on my actual development of my project. Upon my return last November, I had a new class to plan for, a chronic infection wearing me down, and my procrastination to account for! November and December were a haze of writing, planning, sleeping as much as possible, and a hopefully not too unhealthy balance of antibiotics and coffee. I remember being so anxious about completing my final project and even contemplated accepting an extension. However, thanks to support from many different directions, my final project was approved by the end of the fall semester, December 21, 2014.

It felt odd to transition into not having homework, but the class I taught kept me on my toes as far as researching best practices in ESL, methods in teaching literacy to adults with limited and interrupted formal education, and even additional research on the lives of refugees in refugee camps.

December graduates at our small school are invited to participate in the commencement ceremonies in May. That is what I chose to do. I graduated in December 2005 with my B.A. in Sociology and had spent my final semester abroad. It seemed silly to return to campus a full year after completing my last course on campus. This time around, I was still going to be in the area, so I decided to give it a go. By the time commencement weekend arrived, I would have preferred to cancel!

It was a hot day, with possible rain which never materialized. The humidity made our polyester gowns miserable, but we survived!

My academic advisor

Celebrating with Martha

The first order of business after the pictures was to take a cool shower and a nap! That evening, I was able to meet up with my dear friend Martha, who was my roommate for most of the time I was working on my Masters. She is nearly finished her Masters too, to be a Nurse Practitioner. We suffered through many crazy weeks together, cheering each other on to the end of the semester, only to take a deep breath before diving into another semester. We proof-read each other's papers, talked about ideas for research projects, and tried our best to balance busy work schedules, school and squeeze in some fun to keep us alive! 

Now, nearly a month has passed since graduation, and nearly six months since I turned in my final project. In December, I declared my desire to never write another paper, but those close to me know that likely won't be a permanent state. I don't have any plans to go back to school at this point, but I"m attempting to focus on foreign language study for now! We'll see where this goes!

First days in a new place

And I'm back in a city. The second half of May was a flurry of decisions and changes. A friend contacted about a vacant room in a three-person flat in Philadelphia, I began applying to jobs, and resigned from my teaching position. 

Saying goodbye to my class was very difficult, but there were many factors outside of the classroom that were making it more stressful. My manager was incredibly understanding and supportive. One of my students nearly made me cry. When I informed the class that I would be leaving, several students responded by saying, "No! We will miss you." Ana looked at me and said, "Will it be better for you, Hope?" I didn't want to diminish the importance of my life in Harrisburg, but I felt it was important to be honest. I told her it would mean chances for a better job and the opportunity to live in a big city again. She smiled, nodded, and said, "Then we will be happy for you." 

I had an interview on Friday for a teaching position, but after the interview, I felt it wasn't the right job for me. It seemed completely irrational to turn it down on Monday when they called to offer it to me, but it was the decision that gave me peace. I have been blessed by friends and family who have kept reminding that my Provider will bring about a job at the right time. 

This past Sunday was moving day. I've been attempted to reduce my belongings for several months now and that eased the packing process tremendously. Mom, Dad and I packed my things into my brother-in-law's pick-up truck, and off we went. Despite my father's jokes, we didn't resemble the Beverly Hillbillies...much. 

Most of this week has been rainy and cold. As a result, I haven't been out exploring very much. My apartment is on the tenth floor, and it has offered beautiful views of the city with shelter from the rain.

I made my way to one of several local coffeeshops today. (I felt I was in danger of becoming a hermit if I didn't leave the apartment!) The coffee wasn't fantastic, so I likely won't be returning. Given that it could have just been an off day, maybe I'll have to go at least once more! It has a nice atmosphere. Thankfully, I've got several choices in a several block radius around me, including an Ethiopian cafe and a Lebanese bakery (baklava, basboosa, and kanafe a few blocks away...oh my!) I'll keep you posted on my explorations and opportunities in the coming weeks! 

I can scarcely believe my last post was about snow days! The weather is now much more to my liking!

Lately, I've been spending a lot of time thinking about where I want to live my life. In the last two years, I have considered jobs literally all over the world, from Afghanistan to Zimbabwe (sadly, there are no ESL jobs in Zim!  I checked...just to be sure!). I've been offered some jobs, I've been ignored for others, and yet I'm still here. I don't believe that there is just one perfect job out there for me. I think there are a number of jobs that would be a good fit for me, and where I could make a difference in my students' lives.

I look at things like benefits and salary when I consider a job posting. Of course I do! And there are incredible incentives in some parts of the world. But what always stops me from jumping in is the question of how well I will get to know my students. There isn't a definitive answer to that question. In some contexts, I know that teachers are fairly restricted from contact with their students outside of the subject of English.

Those around me on a regular basis know there are days when I say I want to quit teacher and become a ___________ (The answer to that blank changes regularly but have recently included coffeeshop barista, tour guide, massage therapist, and environmentalist). Quite frequently, I grumble about lesson planning. I bemoan the inconsistent attendance of an adult ESL program and I pull my hair out over the challenges of planning lessons for students from an impossible range of levels. And goodness knows, it takes all of my willpower to drag myself out of bed in a timely fashion in the morning.

But those feelings vanish when I'm in my classroom. (Except the sleepiness. Sometimes that persists through my first cup of coffee.)

Despite the fact I know I could make more money working elsewhere, it is humbling to teach these sweet people. Students have asked me to help them understand insurance plans, fill out job applications, write letters to their children's teachers, interpret notes from their children's school, talk to their doctors, listen to their voicemail messages, prepare for citizenship tests, decode their paystubs from work, determine if their electric bill is too high, if a car they want to buy is good or not....and the list goes on.

My students are adults. They are capable, intelligent people who are willing to work hard to change their lives and the lives of their families. I endeavor to respect that and foster as much independence as I can, encouraging them to practice their English by asking other people for help and not being afraid of linguistic mishaps. I always tell them, "I don't want to hear any of you say, 'I don't speak English.' You can tell some one, 'Please repeat. I am learning English' or 'I only speak a little English' or 'English is my SECOND language'. But all of you can speak at least some English, so don't say you can't!!" My classes always laugh at that but that is an important distinction.

But still, there are situations where they still need help. Patient confidentiality doesn't really exist in my classroom. I try, but there have been so many times when my students need me to talk to a nurse about a message or to understand a medicine label or to know how their health insurance works. We technically have a class rule that cell phones shouldn't be used during class time, but that's a joke! Normally, a phone rings and someone hands me the cell phone after answering, and I end up pausing class to confirm a doctor's appointment or to tell a telemarketer to stop calling. Is it a good practice for a teacher? Probably not, but for now, it's needed. My current batch of students have all been in the USA five months or less, with some joining class tomorrow who have only been in the USA since April 16. If I were in a different country, dealing with a new language, I would want someone else to answer my phone too!

Just today, one student asked to borrow my laptop to check something at our break. After a little while, I asked if she needed help, because she seemed frustrated. Her employer uses an online system to issue paystubs. Her HR department had her sign the paperwork agreeing to only using the online system and to no longer receiving a paper paystub. Her most recent paycheck was about $40.00 less than she expected and she wanted to know why. No one in HR had bothered to write the website she needed to go to in order to access her paystub. They had simply given her a paper with her username and password and a few other bits of information.

We worked at this together for about twenty minutes, which basically led to me googling for the company name and finally following enough links to get to the employee access page. For me, it was a matter of scanning for the words I knew I needed. For her, it meant hundreds of unfamiliar English words on webpage after webpage. We finally found the right part of the employee portal and looked at her deductions on her paycheck and figured out her question.

My heart skips a beat every time this happens. I've been handed social security cards, drivers licenses, green cards, passports, financial documents, passwords and usernames....all with the complete trust that I will be able to help. The majority of my students are older than me by at least one decade and have valuable life experiences. But in these instances, they know they need help. I try to teach about privacy and keeping personal information secure, but when the situation is now, they can't wait until they know enough English to handle these things on their own. Refugees and immigrants arriving in this country don't just need to learn English, they need to learn an incredible amount of cultural information and expectations. These demands outpace their language acquisition almost immediately and the result is incredible stress and anxiety.

And so, for now, each day at my job reminds me of the power of a teacher. I will always be able to grow and learn as far as methodology and techniques to teach English. But I know that there is a way to be much more than a good English teacher. It is evident in the little responses. Today, I brought in a big container of hard pretzels for our break. One Nepalese man danced a little jig of happiness as he smacked his lips, excited for a snack at break time! (He's our class clown.) Another woman came over to me, pretzel in hand, and gave me a thumbs up as she said, "Teacher. Good job! I like this one!" That made my day on so many levels. I frequently say, "Good job" as an encouragement and my students are picking up on that! We've been talking about different nonverbal gestures as well, such as thumbs up/down and high fives! I will probably still have days where I want to pull my hair out if I repeat a concept ONE MORE TIME and I worry about students not making gains on their assessments. It's worth it when I see the relief on someone's face when something important is explained in a way she can understand. The answer might not ever help that individual to do better on her next English test (but maybe it will). Those are the moments when I really feel like I'm making a difference.

Snow Days and African Violets

Two snow days in a row left me feeling a little bit of cabin fever, as properly diagnosed by my sister. Snow days are not nearly as much fun as a teacher. I may appreciate them just as much but my snow days start at the same time as any other day.

I wake up and struggle to convince myself that it really is important that I climb out of bed. Really, it's a must. (I usually fall back asleep, which is why I have no less than four alarms set for any given day.) By 7 a.m., my boss calls me to confirm that we will cancel classes for the day. Yay! But instead of getting to turn off any remaining alarms and saunter back to Lala-land, I instead need to notify all of my students. So, one by one, I call my students and let them know. Inevitably, this results in several return calls and texts as my students (very responsibly) confirm that their receipt of my message. Sometimes, I brave the cold air outside of my mountain of blankets to make coffee during my multiple calls!

The other day, Mom and I escaped the snow and ventured to a local oasis (read: garden store) and wandered through the rows of plants. There weren't any roses, but we certainly stopped to smell the gardenias and some incredible frangipani-scented soaps. I bought another African Violet.  I bought my first few African Violets two years ago, at the genesis of my horticultural escapes. (Those were my 25 cent words for this post!) Sadly, the other two violets contracted mites, but my purple one has flourished and bloomed repeatedly. I hadn't realized how much it had grown until I saw my new burgundy violet next to the purple one!

This coming week, several coworkers and I will venture north for a conference on Adult Basic Education (ABE), which includes adult ESL. Sadly, most of the sessions seem to be focused on other aspects of ABE, but I'm certain we will be able to glean some new information and practices. I love conferences, so I'm looking forward to it. Additionally, I just found out that there is a Barnes and Noble bookstore in the conference center, which makes me doubly happy. 

Jut to paint a picture of my current setting, I have to tell you that I can barely focus as I type. I'm at my sister and brother-in-law's house, borrowing Internet access to post this. My sister is attempting to do homework for graduate school while my niece is watching a cartoon. The result it is that we are both being subjected to what sounds like an operatic version of "Pop Goes the Weasel." I admire mothers everywhere for their ability to tune out extraneous noise. She seems to be more productive than I am at the moment. This might be the end of this post. And remember, tonight we turn our clocks one hour forward! Well, I will. Depending on where you live, you might not be doing so tonight! 

Find a Quiet Spot and Breathe

I have been complaining too much about the weather.  Today, it was time to look at the situation differently. This morning was a decadently slow Saturday morning. I made myself a homemade latte and oatmeal and actually sat at the kitchen table to eat my breakfast. 

 The colors in this picture soothe me. I love the vibrant green of the plants and my chitangi material, the bright yellow of the lemons. Although the picture doesn't show it, our Saturday snowfall had begun, and fluffy tufts of snow were swirling outside the windows.  

I am undeniably a warm weather woman. A perfect day, in my opinion, is one when the sun is blazing, windows and doors can be thrown open, and shoes are optional. Even in wintertime, I can't help but open the windows sometimes, just to freshen the air. A Swiss friend of mine told me that her family opens the windows for a few minutes every day, regardless of temperature, to bring in fresh air. I like that habit. I read that that we inhale 12,000 liters (that's over 3,000 gallons) of air into our lungs. We inhale and exhale 20,000 times each day. However, 90% of our day is spent inside.

That "90%" must be a cold climate percentage. When I think back to my childhood in Zimbabwe, I'm sure that my time spent outdoors was significantly more than 10%!

My kitchen is a peaceful little place for me. It isn't quite the spacious gardens of southern Africa, but it's a start. It's my little oasis of green in a wintery grey world. 

Did you know that NASA began considering using houseplants for air purification on space stations in the 1980's? I started reading an article about their top ten choices. They include aloe vera, peace lilies, African violets, and spider plants, which are all in my kitchen! :) 

Pinterest is one of my favorite websites for quotes, projects, recipes and ideas for just about anything. I recently came across this "Manifesto for a Simple Life." I don't know the author, Kelly, or anything about her, but I like her words! This Saturday, my part to remember was to find a quiet spot and breathe. It helped to turn my complaining into thankfulness, to remind me to be thankful for green plants, warm coffee, candles, and even pretty snow.

 

Nonverbal communication

Monday was President's Day, and a holiday for my class. Tuesday's class was cancelled because of winter weather. Somehow, after only two days of class, the week still feels exhausting. 

I went to get my students this morning, taking a snap of Moby and I as I waited for the massive vehicle to warm up at least a little bit. Yep, you can see four rows of seats, two car-seats, and just out of the picture is the most unhelpful ice-scraper ever made. The ice scraper might be more helpful if I 

could fully reach the windscreen when standing on the ground.

Most of the caseworkers don't like to drive Moby, so I typically get the pleasure of driving him. At first, I was afraid, I was petrified (...Did you start singing too???) but I've gotten used to it. It makes me chuckle when I turn the ignition only to have our solitary cassette tape start blaring Nepali music.

Most of our students/clients live in a housing complex not far from my teaching site. We've established a meeting point at an old gas station. Almost every morning, I pull up to the gas station and see two of my most faithful Bhutanese students, waiting stoically in the cold, occasionally smoking a cigarette. 

For the entire first month, their faces were always serious and almost dispassionate. They rarely came to class in December. Their caseworker called them finally, asking if they would come to class in January. The caseworker (who is from the same cultural background) told me, "They said they will come. But you have to remember, they might not come. Culturally, they will always say yes, but that doesn't really mean yes." 

That first day in January, I drove to the gas station, wondering if I would have any students at all. It always makes me smile to see my students standing in a line outside the gas station, patiently waiting for me in front of the "No Loitering" sign. The men dress in Western clothes, although sometimes they are wearing the traditional cloth hat called a topi. The older women are always awash in colors, wearing traditional cloth wrapped around their thin bodies in blues, reds, and yellows.  

Since that day in January, there have always been at least two men waiting for me at that stop. Sometime in January, despite the arctic temperatures, something thawed in our relationship. Now, Naina Singh and Sher Man return my smile and wave as they finish their smoking and climb into the van. As new students arrive, these two men shepherd them into the van, showing them how to buckle seat belts or open the door. They proudly say, "Good morning, teacher!" 

I should add that my conversations in the van are hilarious. By the end of my trip to collect students, there are normally at least two languages being spoken, and sometimes as many as five or six. Most of our students live in proximity to others who share their language. If absent students are part of the Nepali community, I'll normally ask Sher Man or Naina Singh if they know if they are coming. The response is a flurry of Nepali directed at me, which is completely incomprehensible to me, and then a much more helpful "Go" or a hand gesture to wait longer. 

There are several new students who live in a housing complex adjacent to the apartment block. One woman, Dil Maya (which is an incredibly common Nepali name judging by how many Dil Mayas are in our program), has been running late most days. As a result, I've begin to drive by her building on my return trip, hoping to hurry our departure a little bit. She wasn't at the gas station today, so I asked my regulars if she was coming. I got shrugs in response and gestures to drive past her house. I acquiesced and slowed down as I drove by her house. A man was standing on the stoop, smoking a cigarette, watching us with mild interest. Sher Man caught his eye, and through entirely non-verbal communication, managed to communicate that we were wondering if Dil Maya would join us today. The man went into the house, came back out, responded with a hand wave of his own, and Sher Man informed me, "She not come today." There was no need for a cell phone! 

I had to share this last picture. I keep reminding myself that I need to slow down. I have misread a number of things because I'm reading really quickly. I was substituting for another English teacher a few weeks ago. Her class is held in a local Baptist church. As I got on the elevator, I glanced at this sign:

At first glance, I thought it said, "Please do not pray on the elevator!" That seemed a trifle odd, particularly in a church! 

On cold days like today, I'm especially thankful for a roof over my head. (For those not in this area, today is a chilly -12 C.) I certainly will always have one with my family, but another roof has also been provided. At the end of January, I contacted an organization I used to work for, that has two apartments for international staff who routinely return to the USA. Since one apartment was empty for the next few months, they agreed to let it to me. So, on Feb 1, I moved into a "new" apartment. Ironically, it is the same apartment I moved into on February 1, 2012, when I moved back from the UK. (Could that have been three years ago?) This will be home for another two months. After that, we will see what doors open!

Classes are going well, as ever changing as always. My regulars are doing really well, truly making me proud of them. On Tuesday, I might have as many as eight new students, nearly doubling my roster. Several of my students have progressed to being able to hold simple conversations with me, which is a vast improvement from when I would get blank stares in response to anything I said.

I don't teach on Fridays. Instead, I supervise intakes and assessments for new students. It is nice to at least get to meet my students before they pitch up in class, and I think it reassures them to know it will be a familiar face. This past Friday, I wore a necklace from India, one with several strands of small blue beads. Two caseworkers, both originally from Nepal, commented on my necklace. The first man, Lol, looked at my necklace in shock and said, "Where did you get that?" I told him that I bought it from friends who live in Goa.  "Wow," he said. "In Nepal, a man would give that kind of necklace to his wife when they are married.  Usually, it's green, but it's like that."  He proceeded to introduce me to the two students I would be testing, who were both Nepali/Bhutanese. They looked confused by my name, until he said in Nepali, "Aasha."  Both faces lit up with smiles as they nodded approvingly at me.

After I began the assessment, a different caseworker popped his head into the conference room.  "Can I say something to them quickly?" he asked. Interruptions work both ways between our departments of Employment, Resettlement, and ESL, so I nodded. He had a quick conversation with my future students, and then did a double take when he saw my necklace.  "Can you wear that necklace?" he asked me teasingly. We rehashed essentially the same conversation, ending with Rohit telling me that my Nepali students would all think I was married.

As I've been writing, another friend has been messaging me on Facebook. He speaks Arabic and always calls me Amal. I love having a name that translates into other languages. Inevitably, my students' faces light up when they hear my name in their language. To my Spanish-speaking students, I can be Esperanza. To my Nepali speaking students, I can Aasha. To my Arabic-speaking students, I can be Amal. I haven't had any Somali students call me by my Somali name, but I believe it is Rayeyn. Some of my newest students speak Tigrinya (from Eritrea) and Kurdish, so perhaps I can learn how to say Hope in two more languages soon!

The New Class

As I wrote earlier, my new position included a new class. My currently class should come equipped with a revolving door. It is open enrollment (accepting students at any point in the year) and multilevel (from non-literate students to students who already have an intermediate level of English). To complicate it further, my students are newly arrived. When I began the class at the beginning of December, my students had all been in the country less than a month. 

Since my students are so recently arrived and do not have licenses or vehicles, our program provides transportation to the class. I got to be the lucky person to do so. So, each morning, I climb (literally) up into Moby, our older-than-me massive van, and drive to meet my students. 

I don't mind driving Moby anymore, although I was nervous the first time I tried to maneuver around the parking lot. I've gotten used to the beast that he is, and we've even ventured onto 83 today and reached speeds of up to 65 miles an hour without falling apart. We can even listen to NPR together, although I have to turn it off when my students climb in. The speakers only seem to work at the back, and I wouldn't want to deafen anyone! There seems to be an unspoken competition between my students to see who can sit in the passenger seat. I can't blame them...it reminds me of sitting on the upper deck of London buses! 

My new position unfortunately meant that I needed to surrender my old class, the one I have been teaching since July 2013. I stopped back to visit my class when I returned from the Middle East. It really brought so much joy to my heart to sneak into class and hear eruptions of excitement from my students. I got hugs and handshakes, compliments and a whispered "Teacher...do you have a boyfriend yet? No? Ok, I'll keep praying." 

I'm thankful that we've been able to keep in touch, even though I'm not their teacher anymore. I was showered with Christmas cards and Christmas presents. We're trying to find time for a "class reunion"! And last Friday, I met with one of my dear friends for coffee. Her English has improved so much. It really reflects her diligence and perseverance. She's now taking classes at a local community college, but she still comes to our English class a few days a week. She tells me that the other class is good, but our class is full of friends. Those words make me feel as though I've done my part. Life as an immigrant or a refugee can be very lonely and isolated. Everyone should have a place where they will be missed if they don't show up, someone to call if they need help, and someone to laugh with about mistakes and funny moments. I had a very unique combination of students in that class. While I don't think every class will have the same strongly developed sense of community, I hope they come close.