SISTERS

Once we were four now we are three,

Sisters, my sisters,

You mean so very much to me.

You are the younger sisters, I the older,

I always felt I had to be stronger and bolder,

Wanted to provide you with a strong shoulder.

But I know that I haven't always been there with you,

To help you with all the loss and pain you've been through,

I wish this big sister could always protect you like I used to do.

The first time I saw my new baby sisters I fell victim to your charms,

I helped to feed you, changed you, cradled you in my young arms,

I took you for walks, played with you, tried to shield you from harms.

You were still just children when your older sisters left home,

It seemed I just turned around and from girls to women you'd grown,

How did it happen that we all travelled down such different roads?

Time passed, we all got older and continued on our separate ways,

The time between visits with my sisters turned to years not days,

I missed you, felt your absence on my heart like a weight.

We have disagreed, been unforgiving, sometimes unkind,

But, always, in times of loss each other we would find,

That is what a family does, those are the ties that bind.

Kim, together we carried the coffin of our mother,

Sue, you and I bore the weight of another,

Whose loss left only three sisters and a brother. 

The thought of spending this Christmas alone could almost make me weep,

Only a sister could know how grateful I am for these last precious weeks,

Walking, talking, laughing until my sides ached and tears rolled down my cheeks.

Laughing at our own private jokes with all of our might,

Standing on the sidewalk with my legs crossed tight,

So I wouldn't pee my pants that hilarious night!

You both know me like no other can,

My history, my memories, who I am,

You can always know that at your side I will stand.

FAREWELLS, FRUSTRATIONS & FINAL DETAILS continued

Someone who hates goodbyes as much as I do should have been born and raised (and eventually die) in the same small town. That, however, is not my destiny; within me I carry the genes of a world traveller. I am a rolling stone, my home is where I hang my hat, my feet are itchy, and my heart yearns for adventure. I was a teenager when I first heard the saying"ships that pass in the night". That expression appealed to my young, romantic, traveller's heart and I naively envisioned and anticipated many such encounters over the years. My older, more sceptical, traveller's heart has learned that the excitement of meeting new people, sharing new experiences and opening your heart to new friendships is balanced by the sadness of parting and the inevitability of losing touch with many of those friends as the years pass.

I have been blessed to spend the last three months in an exotic location, doing the work I love and getting to know an interesting, well-travelled, eclectic group of people. I have laughed, argued, philosophized, empathized, and grown as a human being thanks to all of these 'ships that I have passed in the night'. I humbly say farewell and thank you to all of you, I must say a few extra words to some of you. David( who reminds me so much of a dear, Scouse cousin), thank you for the laughs, for watching my back, and for teaching me that honourable administrator is not an oxymoron. Flo and Rachel(two lovely young ladies from England and New Zealand), you are a credit to the parents who raised you, being apart from my lovely young daughters was easier to bear because of your light and laughter. Bruce and Gabby, my fellow Canucks(from Winterpeg, Manisnowba of all places!), our acquaintance has been brief but eminently enjoyable. It's been great hanging out with you these past two weeks, Gabby; and thanks for colouring my hair for me! Karl, Michael, Peter and Cathy, my afternoon tea buddies, thanks for the laughter, the colourful conversations(I've learned a lot about men's perspective on women thanks to 'the man from Wigan' and 'the man from Northern Ireland'!)the advice and support. Thank you Cathy for being such an easy-going room mate and thank you Karl for being my guide and 'chaperone' on many enjoyable walks. Sarah and Dea, two strong, caring, amazing, South African ladies, you have both touched my heart deeply. I feel that if distance did not separate us we could become close, life-long friends. Steven and Gideon, husbands of Sarah and Dea, respected colleagues; it has been a pleasure knowing you. Stay in touch, people, and know that if you ever make it to my 'hood you have a place to stay. Another famous quote comes to mind; "...parting is such sweet sorrow.." - sorry, William, you are wrong on that one - there is nothing sweet about it, there is only sorrow.

I've spent too much time, wasted too much energy in the last three months venting about how frustrated I am, how difficult things sometimes are. There is nothing like putting things down, in black and white as the saying goes, to help you put things in perspective. My frustrations pale in comparison to the richness that has come into my life through my students, my colleagues, and my experiences here in this country and in this culture that are so different from my own. I have been offered a position teaching English as a Second Language at Princess Noura University in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. I thought I would be there by now. I thought I would be settled into my new place - my own place! - on a western compound. I thought I would be in the swing of teaching my new classes. I thought I would be earning a new salary not long after I was last paid from this job. I thought wrong! The recruiting company that hired me has not, in my opinion, behaved well. I am still waiting for my Saudi visa to be sorted out and for a flight to be booked for me to Riyadh. In the meantime I am in Kuwait illegally(my visa expired on October 26), I have been told I can no longer stay in the apartment that was part of my contract(fair enough, I finished work at the school on November 3)and I haven't been paid since the end of October - it is time to move on. There was a time when I would have been a lot more frustrated and stressed out by these circumstances, I think I'm mellowing with age(when one of my daughters remarks on my passionate dialogue or my assertiveness - they've been known to say I am aggressive but I maintain that I am assertive - I tell them "This is me mellow, you should have seen me 30 years ago!). Tomorrow morning I am getting on a plane and flying to England. I am going to spend time(hopefully not too long because I need to join the ranks of the employed again soon)with family. I am going to embrace the sisters I have not seen in 6 years, I am going to have tea with cousins I may not see again for many years, I am going to indulge my appetite for pork(forbidden in this Muslim country)and imbibe a few rum and pepsi! I wanted to stop in England on my way to Kuwait last summer to see my family but that didn't work out so instead of being frustrated by the delays and stressed out about such minor details as money, a home and a job I am just going to go with the flow here. I am going to take full advantage of this opportunity the universe has sent me. Thank you universe! That takes care of the farewells and frustrations, I will update when the final details have been wrapped up!

FAREWELLS, FRUSTRATIONS & FINAL DETAILS

WHAT THE HELL HAVE I GOTTEN MYSELF INTO ?! (Part Two)

Before I forget, the picture that I posted was taken the first week I was here when a group of us were visiting the Grand Mosque.  We are all wearing abayas because women can't go into a mosque unless they are covered.  We were given a tour by a very friendly, informed young man, served with cold water afterward, and felt very welcome.  The mosque is incredibly beautiful-marble, Indian teak, glass windows from Italy, the best materials and furniture from around the world. 



Back to my Kuwaiti saga!  I've been silent for the past three weeks because I've been processing, reflecting, and considering my options.  I didn't want to update my blog until I had everything sorted out.  I don't have everything sorted out yet, but I feel it's time to get it down, put it out there.

Along with the ineptitude involved in arranging my flight, and the clocking in/out situation, one of the company administrators tried to enforce a policy of not allowing us to have friends of the opposite gender in our flats(that means our apartments for my Canadian people!) a move that was fought-and won-by our principal(bless his Scouse heart!).  Last Wednesday I came home from school(after a particularly bad day that had started with the principal telling me about not getting the esl position) and was informed-in very broken English- by the guy who takes care of our building-that I had a room mate!  I was put in a 2 bedroom flat when I arrived and knew there was a possibility of sharing but this was ridiculous!  I had been given no warning whatsoever.  This man had gone into my apartment when I was not there, taken my suitcases and some clothes I had put in the second bedroom and taken them into my bedroom-where I had 2 piles of dirty clothes(including underwear!) on the floor because I intended to do laundry as soon as I got home.  I was freaking furious!  This is indicative of how this company treats its teachers, which(along with the conditions at the school)explains the high staff turnover.  My new 'roomie' had just arrived after a long flight that originated in Detroit and must have wondered what the hell she'd gotten herself into when she encountered a hopping mad, crazy Canadian woman!  As it turns out my American colleague has friends and a fella here and didn't even spend one night in the flat(now living somewhere else), but that doesn't change how this situation was handled, or the fact that I could come home one day next week and find they have moved someone else in here!  And then there is the man they hired to run a building with a large, international, English speaking population- a man who barely speaks English.  It's really difficult to get anything fixed/sorted when you can't make yourself understood.  And the situation is not just frustrating for us; can you imagine not being able to understand English and being constantly bombarded by people speaking that language, making demands on you, and getting frustrated when you don't know what they're saying- and apparently being paid a pittance for the privilege?  The poor man wears a look of perpetual frustration. These are not the actions of a company that behaves with integrity, that cares about its employees.  I do not feel bound by a sense of loyalty to the company that hired me.



And then there is my apartment.  I know, and appreciate that having free accommodation is not a perk that I would enjoy at home.  But in the world of ESL teaching and international schools it is part of the compensation package, and in most positions in the Middle East and Asia free-single-accommodation is provided.  I knew coming into this job that it only offered shared accommodation.  I wasn't wild about the idea but I wanted a job and assumed - obviously naively - that the apartment provided would have 2 separated bedrooms and bathrooms and a living area large enough for two strangers to share.  I have a good sized bedroom and being the first in here appropriated the large bathroom that has a real shower and bathtub (which also holds the washing machine room mates would share).  The second bedroom is an adequate size but is very close to mine, and the 2nd bathroom is what most westerners refer to as an 'Arab bathroom' - although parts of Europe have ones similar to it.  It is very small, with a sink, toilet and shower head in it.  That's right-I said shower head-not shower stall.  Whenever you shower the entire bathroom gets wet and has to be mopped out afterward-I would not be a happy camper if that is what I had to utilize for the next 10 months-and it is definitely not up to the standards expected by international staff.  The living space is totally adequate for a single person or a couple but not, in my opinion, for 2 complete strangers.  It is definitely not big enough for two teachers to set up laptops and spread out with all our marking and planning materials.  Adding insult to injury my apartment was in a disgustingly filthy state when I arrived.  Tired, jet-lagged, and adjusting to a new country and climate, I had to spend hours cleaning-this has been the case with most people I have spoken to.  I paid to have my living room carpet and the comforter on my bed dry cleaned and am considering paying a cleaning lady to come in and clean the areas I just haven't had the time or heart to get to.  This really isn't rocket science-if you want to attract-and keep-good, qualified teachers-take care of them!  The more I experience, the more convinced I become that I should look into starting my own recruiting business in a few years!

This sounds like whining(would you like some cheese with that whine?!), and that really isn't my intention.  There are definitely some positive aspects to my job and to life in Kuwait.  In Canada teachers get very little prep time; here we have specialist teachers for art(if they can find an art teacher!), music, p.e., ict, french/esl, arabic and islamic studies-so out of 50 classes per week we only have to teach 27-29 - that would never happen at home!  I really like my colleagues, my department head and principal seem to be people who support their staff, and, as I said earlier, despite everything I like my kids.  And I like this country; I like the warm nights, the salty smell of the ocean that reminds me of home, the palm trees and warm breezes I've been longing for, and the friendly people.  Last night I went for dinner with a large group of colleagues.  When I went to the washroom I encountered 4 young Kuwaiti girls who all said "hello" to me-one even added "good morning"!  They then offered their hands for me to shake and welcomed me to Kuwait-that evoked a smile that spread across my whole face-can you imagine that happening in a restaurant bathroom in Canada?

In conclusion, I have experienced positives and negatives, ups and downs, highs and lows, good days and bad days.  I have wrestled with my conscience, searched my heart, and tried to decide on my best course of action.  I may not have a choice in where I spend the next 9 months; remaining where I am may be my only option.  If that is the case I will make the best of the situation for myself, and do everything I possibly can for my students.  I will survive, as I always have, but I feel the cost-to my mental, emotional, and by extension, physical health-will be high.  So I have decided that if I am offered a position teaching English as a Second Language, particularly at the college/university level, I will accept it(providing they agree to my returning home for Alex's wedding and graduation).  I have two phone interviews set up for tomorrow, one with a university in Saudi Arabia and one with a university in Oman.  If I go somewhere else I know I could be jumping from the frying pan into the fire,  but at least I would have something on my resume that would help to get me a better position next year.  Whatever happens this experience has not been a wasted one.  I have learned valuable lessons-the hard way, perhaps, but that wouldn't be the first time and probably won't be the last time that my enlightenment has come at a price!  I know that I still possess a strong passion to teach, but I have learned that that passion does not mean I can be happy teaching anything to anyone.  I have learned that I cannot be in contact with children and not care - about their education, their well being, their happiness.  I have accepted that despite those feelings of care and concern, I have to make decisions based on what is best for my health and happiness, and-as callous as it may sound-my career. I have processed, and reflected, and searched my heart. I know my strengths, I know my weaknesses, I know what I can and cannot bear, and I think I know what I want. All I need now is the resolve and courage to follow wherever this path I am on leads me.

WHAT THE HELL HAVE I GOTTEN MYSELF INTO?! (Part One)

I just finished my 3rd week with my students and have yet to blog about the experience; I know some of you have been wondering at my silence.   I was asking myself the question "What the hell have I gotten myself into?" even before I met my class.  The first week of September was 'teacher's week' as we prepared for the students(actually, saying we 'prepared' is stretching it a bit), and had general staff/admin meetings.  At one of these meetings the subject of discipline was discussed for such an extremely long time-my first red flag!- that I wrote on my writing pad to the teacher sitting next to me(a young woman from New Zealand) "Are you getting the impression that this is a problem here?"  Well, the answer to that question is yes-it's a huge problem here. After days spent getting my classroom ready for my students(putting up posters, borders, arranging desks, sorting texts, notebooks, etc) came my very first 'real' day.  I arrived at school about 6:45am as prepared as I could be for my "5 Yellow" class of 16 students.  Every morning we have a staff briefing in the library at 7:10 after which we head straight to the quad for the bell that rings at 7:20.  We line our class up and take part in the flag ceremony(cheers, national anthem, reading from the Quaran in Arabic and English-done by students),then escort our class to our classroom.  After the briefing-and just before I had to meet and pick up my class-I was told we were down a teacher.  Instead of 4 year(grade) 5 classes there were now 3-my class was now "5 Blue"- 29 students, in a different classroom.  My briefcase and personal supplies were in my original classroom-couldn't leave 29 kids alone to go get them.  I had no idea where the teacher who had prepared my new classroom had put anything.  It was a chaotic disaster that only got worse.  In the afternoon a teacher came in to teach the Arabic(or religion-wasn't sure in the confusion!) lesson, while I was conferring with him two boys got into a fight-an all-out, punches flying  fist fight.  My colleague(a man) did absolutely nothing-while I was breaking up the fight a chair was knocked onto my foot, cutting the big toe on my left foot.  I was shocked, pissed off, and bleeding-not a good start to my teaching career in Kuwait.(three weeks later it is still tender, has a black bruise and I don't know if I will lose the nail or not).  I dragged myself home from school that day, the enthusiasm and hope of the morning replaced by despair.  I went online that night and responded to some responses to applications I had received just prior to arriving in Kuwait.  The next morning I spoke to the principal and told him that I didn't want to be a classroom teacher(has never been my first choice during this whole job search procedure), that my preference was in ESL, I knew the school needed an esl teacher(one of the ones hired had not arrived), and that I wanted to be considered for the position.  I also told him I was checking out other options.  He asked me to give him a week and he would see what he could do.  During that week(and continuing for the past two weeks)  I feel like I have been on a rollercoaster ride-and anyone who knows me knows I HATE rollercoasters!  One day I feel like I can't spend another day here, the next day I feel that there is no way I can abandon my students now.  And my students are not bad kids-despite the rough start I had.  They are not really much different from kids anywhere-they are kids-they talk too much, they don't listen, they constantly seek teacher attention, they drive me crazy!  They are, however, not mean-spirited kids-they are likable, and funny, and charming, and worthy of my time and my care, and I like them!  One-to-one, or in small groups I would have a great experience with them.  In a classroom of 26(my present class), in a school environment where the students have grown accustomed to a severe lack of discipline and consequences, in a culture that appears to tolerate behavior I am not accustomed to tolerating, my experience will be extremely frustrating to unbearable.  After a week my principal got back to me; the powers above him decided it was easier to find and esl teacher than another year 5 teacher so their solution was to do what worked best for them-keep me where I am and hire someone else for the esl position.  During that week I had pretty much decided that even if I got an offer to teach esl at a college or university(the work and experience I have been looking for all along) I would stay at this school if they offered me the esl position-because I don't want to abandon my students, and I don't want to abandon my colleauges(who I think are the friendliest, most welcoming bunch I have ever worked with), and I know I would enjoy working with Flo(a wonderful young woman from London), the other esl teacher.  But, I wasn't given that option, and in that refusal, came my resolve to do what is best for me, for my career.  Still, in these last 2 weeks I have grown closer to my students-even though I've had some really bad days-and it will be difficult to leave them if I go.

If the frustration of the students was the only issue it wouldn't be so bad-they are the same issues one finds anywhere-but there is so much more going on here.  The lack of resources is appalling-i have no teacher guides, no answer keys(that means hours of extra work just there), no basic supplies.  I can download resources from the internet onto a flashdrive and take it to school-but then there is no working computer or printer for me to use!  I am barely treading water keeping up with everything that needs doing. Classrooms are so small-some of them in terrible shape, the roof is leaking in one of the stairwells-an extremely dangerous situation.  The children(about300 of them at my age group-grade 3-5)  spend their two 20 minute breaks in a very small quad in the middle of the school.  It is technically outdoors-canvas roof, tile floor-gets quite hot.  There is no play equipment and they are not allowed to run!  They are in school from about 7am until 2:10-and during their breaks they have nothing to play on and are not allowed to run!  I supervise on break each day and spend 20 minutes yelling(only way to be heard)at kids to stop running(which i feel so bad about doing!), grabbing the kids who ignore me and keep running past me, and breaking up fights. At the end of that 2o minutes I am at the end of my rope, ready to cry. On top of that we are being bombarded with administrative demands-"your marking must be done like this", "you need to do long, medium, and short term goals and hand them in", etc., etc.  I(and everyone else) am frustrated to the point of despair-I don't have the tools I need to do my job-and yet I am being held accountable for doing that job!

And then there is the company that owns and runs the school.  We all have id cards and must clock in(at 7am) and out(at 2:45) each day-not what i'm used to, but i can live with it.  What i don't accept is that if we clock in one minute late, or clock out one minute early-we will be deducted a half day's pay!  I get to school between 6:30 and 6:45 every day, I leave between 3 and 5-depending on how much marking I have to do-and yet I face losing half a day's pay if i'm one minute late arriving or one minute early leaving!  That is not an acceptable way to treat a professional as far as I am concerned.

I really want to finish this before posting it but some colleagues are heading out for lunch(our friday is your saturday) and i could really use a break so i am going to join them.  i know if i try to save this i will end up losing it-so i guess i'll finish it when i get home!  adieu, adieu, remember me!

MOTHERS

Sometimes they are the women who give birth to us.  Sometimes they are the women who foster or adopt us.  Sometimes they are women whose paths may only briefly cross ours but who look out for us in a motherly fashion.  Sometimes they are women who see our need and take us under their wing, add us to their flock.

I have been fortunate to have had a mother who was there for me even when I didn't want her to be, even when I didn't appreciate her.  The woman who bore and raised me was a strong, proud woman who loved, nurtured, supported, and sacrificed for, her children.  But I am not even going to attempt to do her justice in this brief message, it will be challenge enough to do that in my book. Almost 18 years after her death I still miss my mother's presence in my life.  There is still an empty space in my heart, a little girl inside me who wants her mom.

 I have, however, been blessed in the last 5 years to encounter 2 amazing women who hold a special place in my heart.

 Minnie(who just turned 80) is a dynamic lady with a lot of chutzpa(my apologies if I spelled that incorrectly!)who started the James Bay Women's Group, which I joined about 6 months after moving to Victoria.  There were many women in that group who I admired and several who had a lasting impact on my life.  Minnie is receiving special attention here because the impact she has left is a mothering one.  She called me "kid"(which made me feel young again), told me she was proud of me(an accolade not frequently received), and even indulged in some "mama-bragging" (relating to people I don't even know what a strong woman and good mother I am!).  I thank you, Minnie, with all my heart, for the interest you took in my life and for the motherly fashion in which you looked out for me.  I miss you, but our connection hasn't ended - you haven't seen the last of me!  I will return to Victoria, and I still want to write that book - yours is one of the stories I want to tell!!

I didn't know anyone in Victoria when I decided to move back there in January, 2006 so I contacted old friends of my parents who live in Comox(about a 2 1/2 drive up island).  I stayed with Vicky and Chuck for 2 weeks while I scouted things out, went back to Edmonton to rent a truck and pack up my things, then stayed with them for another 6 weeks while I organized a job and an apartment in Victoria.  During that time Vicky took me under her wing.  She rescued me from a housing nightmare I had gotten myself into, treated me like family and mothered me in a way I hadn't felt since my own mother died.  I soaked it up like a plant that has gone years without rain.   In the past 5 years this strong, caring woman has become my second mother.  I've celebrated holidays and milestones with her family, received the same care parcels of toilet paper, stamps, food and other welcome staples as her children whenever I have visited her or she has visited me, been nagged and nurtured, even shared some eye-rolling and private, "sibling" jokes at her expense this summer(sorry, Vicky, but it was done from a place of love - and it is part of the package - we did the same to mom and my girls have done it to me!)  What I learned, and accepted with such gratitude, this last visit when I went to stay for a week and ended being there for more than a month(during which time children and grandchildren were arriving to celebrate Chuck's 80th birthday and beds were getting scarce!)is that Vicky(and the less verbose, but equally welcoming and beloved Chuck)didn't just treat me like family; she opened her home and her heart to me and accepted me as part of her family.  One of the things I love about Vicky is how much she liked and respected my mother, whom she always speaks of as being a real lady and to whom she has sometimes compared herself in an unflattering manner.  You and mom are different in many ways, Vicky, but you are alike in one very important one.  You both have mother's hearts - hearts that are open not only to the children you brought into this world, but also to the children of others, even adult children who still need mothering.  My mother was proud to call you her friend in life.  I know that her spirit, which still watches over her children, is grateful to you for taking one of her chicks into your nest, for the love and support you have given her daughter.  I am grateful, too.  Thank you, second mother, I love you!

 This post was meant to be published before I left Canada; I didn't get it done on time, but I guess it is better late than never!

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