We Don't Need No Education

The English Teacher's Room

After six weeks of teaching I have become a comfortable fixture at SMK 1. There are two kinds of public senior high schools in Indonesia- SMA and SMK, SMA being a general public high school and SMK being a vocational high school. Students are placed in either an SMA or SMK based on an examination; students who do well on the test are recommended for SMA high schools and a university track, while students who do less well are recommended for SMK schools and an employment track.  Within SMK 1, my students are divided into fields of study such as tourism, accounting, business, and administration. I teach eleven classes of first grade students (10^th grade in America), Monday through Friday; so, I have a little over 300 students. All of 

them are sweet, eager to learn English, and excited to have me in their school- which makes me feel bad about not knowing any of their names.  Every day I walk down the halls to choruses of “Good Morning Miss, you’re beautiful” from the girls and “Miss, do you love me?” from the boys.  Many of the students are musically inclined, and my favorite thing is our male a capella group who not only sing, but beat box very well. I also have a small group of boys who sometimes sit on the steps outside of my office and serenade me with their guitars. My student’s levels of English vary from those who can hold a conversation with me to those who speak to me quickly in Bahasa Indonesia and then laugh at the blank expression on my face. Resources are limited, so all of my lessons revolve around a white board and board marker, sometimes even finding a printer is difficult.  Even with the mixed abilities and the lack of resources, teaching is a joy and I expect that my situation would make any other teacher jealous. As an assistant I am not required to grade or assess my students in any way; so, my job consists of only the fun and creative aspects of teaching.  I hope that I don’t get too spoiled (or conceited); but, for now I am enjoying every minute.

Selamat Datang Pekanbaru

     This Friday marks one month since Brian and I arrived in Pekanbaru. The time has passed quickly, but what a time it has been! In only four weeks I have had the pleasure of meeting not only the Mayor of Pekanbaru, but the Governor of Riau province. I have attended two traditional Malay weddings, and have made friends with several locals. With nothing more than my status as a buleh (white foreigner), I have become an instant celebrity.
    The city of Pekanbaru is far from the largest city on Sumatra; but, it is nevertheless as industrious as any other major city. Pekanbaru boasts three large malls that rival those in America, a huge library, countless salons, and bakeries intermingled with traditional markets and street vendors. I have been able to find pretty much everything that I need within the plethora of shops around Pekanbaru. There is a two-story Ace Hardware where I can buy American cleaning and household products, and Pizza Hut and KFC if I get a craving for Americana. There is even an ice cream truck and a bakery truck, and I can hear their jingles driving down the street. It is a joke among the people who live here that Pekanbaru has no mountains, no beach, and no attractions; so, Pekanbaru has shopping.

     I enjoy walking around the city, and I often go exploring after school. As one of the only bulehs in town I am easy to spot and everywhere I go I am greeted by shouts of “Miss, how are you?” or “Hello Miss, where are you going?” The only person I have found who speaks to me normally, without bursting into a fit of giggles, is the woman who does my laundry. I think that washing my dirty underwear has taken me down from my American pedestal. I have found most people to be extremely friendly and helpful, and those that speak English are eager to practice with a native speaker. Twice I have been engaged in English conversation with strangers who then insisted on buying me dinner afterwards. The hospitality of these people ceases to amaze me. 

                                                     

My Life as an Indonesian Sitcom

A week ago I found that one of the bananas from a bunch on my counter had been nibbled, not nibbled exactly, more like gnawed about 1/3 of the way gone. I tried to mime a mouse trap to my landlady, but I don’t think that got through. After finding more poop on my counter on Monday, I decided to take action and Indonesian dictionary in hand I went in search of a trap. The next morning I was curious to see if I had caught anything, and upon cracking my bedroom door I came face to face with a rat, not a mouse as I had hoped. The rat was still, but as I exited my bedroom, it began to struggle (note: I could only find a sticky trap which DOES NOT kill). It about scared the life out of me and sent me sprinting. I contemplated leaving it for the day, but decided that leaving it would just mean I would have to deal with it later, and what if it somehow got free in that time? Heart-pounding I armed myself with several plastic bags, and proceeded to double-bag the rodent and take him to the outdoor trash bin. That night with the rat still fresh in my mind, I was awakened by a rattling in my bathroom. I found a mouse in my trash can frantically trying to hop out. Screaming some choice words, I ran and got my broom (I’m not sure why I thought this would be helpful) only for the mouse to jump out of the trash can at me and scurry around my bedroom and out of sight. Needless to say I did not sleep well. The next morning I awoke to stomach rumblings of the worst kind, most likely mouse-stress-induced.  I went to school anyway convinced it would work itself out. At lunchtime when my Ibu got out the lunch she had made for us I kindly explained about my stomach. She seemed to understand, but then proceeded to ask me about  five times why I wouldn’t eat. When I finally snapped, she looked very serious and declared that the mouse and sickness were too much for me and that I needed to go home with her for the night. Too tired to argue I let her load me into the car. Unfortunately my Ibu had other plans to nurse me besides taking me home. First stop was to pick up my laundry and take it to my house; second, the tailor to pick up my school uniform; third a Chinese restaurant to get me Bubur Ayam ( a rice porridge with egg and chicken) and hot tea; fourth the bakery to buy me an assortment of pastries filled with banana (I had tried to explain the BRAT diet and apparently banana was the only thing to get through). Finally back to her house I realized she only had a squat toilet, so I took a nap in her son’s bed whom she had kicked out of his room, and prayed that I would not get sick again. After two nights of sleepovers with my Ibu, I was ready to spend some time alone on Friday. However, my favorite English teacher had plans for me to meet her mother. In lieu of English words to tell me how much she liked me, Ibu Yut’s Mom, Omah, decided to buy me things. So my Friday evening was spent following Omah around various shops and stores while she bought me random things and gave me advice in Indonesian.  I’m beginning to feel like I’m a part of a bad Indonesian sitcom; but, I think it’s a good thing that everything is so ridiculous- it definitely makes it easier to laugh, and it’s always better to laugh than to cry. Lessons learned this week: 1. If you use a sticky trap be prepared to take care of WHATEVER is stuck to it. 2. Suffer the D in silence. 3. Marry a doctor or a pilot (a piece of advice from Omah)