The People

We've finally had a little bit of time to experience some of the culture of Abu Dhabi.  Last night was a night that created memories that I will always treasure.  The nation of the United Arab Emirates is a young nation.  Yesterday they celebrated their 39th birthday as a nation.  And these people do know how to celebrate and how to have some fun.

I've read articles and talked to people about the National Day celebration on the Corniche.  The Corniche is a place along the gulf with beaches and places to visit with some little shops sometimes.  It's much like a boardwalk or like the Strand in Hermosa Beach, CA.  It's a place where the people gather for events.  We were warned to not go anywhere near the Corniche on National Day.  The traffic would be horrific and we could be stuck in a jam for hours.  However, the fireworks display would be magnificent and memorable.

So, of course we decided that we must experience the adventure at least once.  When else would we be able to see the largest fireworks display in the world?  We've seen the tallest building in the world, we needed to add this to our bucket list.  So, Doug and I planned and strategized and debated which would be the best way to go about our adventure.

We finally decided that worst case scenario we would park the car for a few hours until traffic cleared so we could go home.  We entered the Corniche coming in from Yas Island which is more north of the city and at the outskirts.  We armed ourselves with snacks and books and chairs then we entered the thick of things.  It was like nothing I could have imagined.

The traffic once we entered was bumper to bumper and just inched along.  We weren't entirely certain of our destination, we only knew we were caught up in the flow of traffic and there was no backing out.  Teenage boys were driving trucks and SUV's.  Apparently, the four-wheeled vehicles have an RPM regulator on them.  I don't know much about the mechanical aspects, but I do know this, those boys rev those trucks and push in the clutch and the trucks make a big noise and backfire.  At one point we had four trucks next to us revving and banging and boys were hanging out of sunroofs and piled in the truckbeds and they were having a good ol' time.  Stereos were blasting and crowds were cheering encouraging them on. 

And the cars and trucks were decorated.  I don't mean with a little bit of poster paint.  They went all out!  There was one truck completely covered with red, silver and green garland.  Many of the cars were actually covered in shrink wrap printed with flags and UAE slogans and images of the Sheikhs'.  There were red, green and black hearts and the number 39 was everywhere.  There were streamers and at one point I saw a small car with a flag rigged up like a sail with lights twinkling along the sides.

The cars and trucks were packed with families.  Dads were driving with toddlers on their laps.  Children were standing up and looking out of the sunroofs.  Boys would hop out of cars and run alongside the stream of vehicles and then hop back in for a ride.  It was wild, crazy fun and then there was the Silly String.

Entrepreneurs were hawking cans of Silly String for 10 dhirhams alongside the road.  They carried plastic bags full of cans of Silly String.  Of course we didn't escape the onslaught.  We were fair game and so getting caught up in the moment Doug flagged down a Silly String hawker and we joined in.  It was great fun to tease the kids in a neighboring car making silly faces at them and then returning fire when they aimed their cans at us.  I think we caught them by surprise.  I had to plan my strategy just right though by manually rolling down my window just a crack, aiming and shooting at just the right moment aiming for an opening in a window. I surprised myself by aiming quite accurately, I think!  Score!

One dad was quite surprised when I shot a stream of foamy string through his window.  His kids were yucking it up in the back seat.  I was having so much fun laughing at him, I didn't see the teenage boys sneaking up behind us.  Those crazy kids yanked open my door, sprayed me in the face and hair and ran away squealing with delight! And there I was with my face and mouth full of foam! What a hoot!  I spluttered and laughed while Doug shot a photo before it could all disappear.  Too much fun!

Of course, there was no real escape from the people we taunted and teased, as the flow of traffic basically remained the same.  That dad in the car next to me had great fun the next time we passed him miming the opening of my car door and motioning for me to roll down my window.  I kept my window rolled tight next to him and shook my finger from side to side the way they do here to say, "La, la, la!"  No, no, no!  However, I did learn from my mistake and locked my doors.  The next time those boys came near, I was ready.  They yanked on my door and seemed genuinely surprised when they couldn't get it open.  Curses. Foiled.  Tee hee.

And so, we inched along with strings of foam hanging from our windows clinging like globs of sphaghetti to our windows.  At one point, I think we were connected to the car in front of us by a gooey string.  I discovered that there are a few different types of the Silly String.  One kind, like I remember from my childhood, is just a gooey string shot out and in a jet stream, but there were other types.  Some come out of the can like big flakes of snow, so at one point it looked like it was snowing outside our car.    Another kind I had the honor of experiencing right up close is more like the consistency of shaving cream.  Not the most pleasant experience I've ever tasted!

For two hours we crept along, but eventually decided we had enough fun and didn't really want to continue having that much fun into the wee hours of the night.  At one of our first opportunities we were able to turn off of the main road, also called the Corniche, and we wove our way between buildings and back alleys to land a primo parking spot pointed in the right direction to make a quick get-away after the fireworks.

The sidewalks and walkways were jam packed with people.  Eventually we pushed our way through and claimed a spot on the beach.  By this time it was close to 9:00 pm.  Fireworks were scheduled to begin at 8:30 pm inshallah.  And very true to desert time, they started at 9:37 pm.  No problem.

 Doug and I were all nestled comfortably in our lawn chairs feeling quite smug at our clever ploy of bringing along chairs. The people were all settled nicely on the sand, awaiting the first sparkle and crackle and when it happened, the first thing they all did was STAND UP!  And, then, they all surged forward, towards the water like they were going to get a closer look.  Doug and I being the fireworks veterans that we are, looked at each other in disbelief.  What were they doing?  First of all, they were obstructing our view.  Second of all, they were obstructing our view.  And then, the fireworks changed all the rules by shooting off a display close to the horizon so that we had to STAND UP in order to see.

As we stood and enjoyed the view, glorious displays lit up the sky.  Doug enjoyed looking behind us to watch the brilliant reflections bounce off the glass on the building behind us.  And of course, it was all over too soon.  After twenty minutes and a spectacular finale, people  immediately began to gather their children and head back to the road.  I didn't believe it was over.  Two hours of traffic and two cans of Silly String, couldn't equate only twenty minutes of fireworks in my mind.  I told Doug it couldn't be over.  I even sat back down in my chair to wait for round two.  Always being the practical guy, he pointed out that it really was over, people really were leaving, and that five minutes sitting in my chair could equate to at least another hour stuck in traffic.  Sigh.  I had to give up my protest and return to reality.

We really did luck out and our parking space proved to be very advantageous.  We were home forty-five minutes after the fireworks ended.  Too cool.  When we pulled into our complex we searched frantically for our left-over can of Silly String to shoot at our security guard, but alas it was to no avail, it was hidden in the murky depths of our Yaris.  Curses.  Foiled!.

Orchestration

My life is good.  I am blessed.  My life is good.  I am blessed.  If I repeat myself enough, I'll be able to pull myself up by my bootstraps and buck up a little bit.  Again, I find myself avoiding my blog.  I'm afraid to dig too deeply into my thoughts.  If I even begin to scratch the surface the wall that I have been so carefully constructing may crumble and then poor Doug will be left with a blubbering mess of me.

Thanksgiving was wonderful and awful.  Awful because I had to work.  National Day is coming up and celebrations have already begun.  Our morning tabour assembly has turned into quite a production filled with skits, speeches, competitions, dances and demonstrations.  The boys show up in the morning with scarves, hats, waving flags and balloons.  Their faces are painted with the UAE colors of red, black, white and green. Our normal 15 minute tabour has turned into a 45 minute production. 

Yesterday morning after making my rounds and wishing my fellow Americans a Happy Thanksgiving, I found myself volunteering to be on one end of a tug-o-war rope.  When I volunteered and swished out in my long flouncy skirt to yank on a thick rope, I thought I was headed toward the winning side.  I was wrong.  I didn't pay close attention and while I was flexing my muscles at my boys, I missed the Arabic version of, "Ready, set, GO!"  Next thing I knew I was trying to dig in with my Birkenstocks on a slick brick courtyard floor.  I didn't even have time to kick off my shoes and coach my team mates with a rhythmic, "PULL!  PULL! PULL!"  We lost.  I was sad.  Personally, I think the sides were stacked against us.  Oh well.

It was hard to watch the celebration with all of the red, green, white and black and not see one single turkey feather, Indian headress, or Pilgrim collar and buckles.   This morning, though, after church, Doug and I made some stops in the city.  We ended up literally, going to three, yes, three, different grocery stores to get the things we needed.  At our second stop, I saw Christmas trees.  A store here called, Carrefore, had a good sized display set up near the entrance to the store.

I can't help but think of all the times at home when I have walked into Meijers, or K-Mart, or the mall and have felt unindated with all of the commercial hype of glitz and blitz and the not so subliminal messages of, "Buy! Buy! Buy!  Spend! Spend! Spend!"  And I have turned away, or shaken my head and tisked my tongue to grumble, "Oh, good grief,  what will they think of next?"

But, today, felt different.  Here it is Black Friday, the day after Thanksgiving.  By this time last year, Doug and I had already collected the mandatory lists from all of our children, we had strategized our plan of attack, and would have already been standing in lines wrapped throughout the stores with our coveted prizes in hand smirking at the latecomers rushing through the store doors.

Today, when we entered the main aisle of Carrefore, off to my right, I saw it... the sparkle, the glimmer, the glow, the twinkle and the comfortable, good old feeling of  "home."  It was like adjusting my shoulders into just the right fitting coat.  For a moment, the tension seemed to leave that space between my shoulders and for a moment, I imagined I might be in the center aisle at Meijer Thrifty Acre.  For a moment it was good.  There were several Christmas trees set up, blue and red and silver and white.  My eyes drank in the shiny blue bulbs, the silver garland and the twinkling white lights.  Home.  I miss home.

I miss my children, I miss my family, I miss my animals.  I miss pumpkin pie and grape jelly and toothpicks with dental floss on the end.  I miss my colleagues and I can't believe I'm saying this, I miss my Reading Recovery On-going Professional Development meetings.  I miss being able to discuss theory and problem solving with my Reading Recovery colleagues.  It is a good feeling to be challenged and to be made accountable and to have to search through the writings of Marie Clay to find words of affirmation or words of wisdom to guide my teaching.

Each day in my classroom is a struggle.  I struggle to find the fewest just right words to communicate to my students what it is I want them to learn.  I struggle to hold their attention and to not become the Charlie Brown teacher sounding like the honking horn.  I struggle to get to each student.  I struggle to make my room a print rich environment with very limited resources.  I struggle to meet the high expectations of my employers and administrators.  I struggle with finding the time to plan and to find resources to use to teach the guidelines.  I struggle to find the patience to endure just one more meeting for "only a few minutes."  Well, I only have a few minutes everyday.  

I struggle with patience for well-meaning folks that want to provide me with activities to teach CVC words to my first graders with  early emergent writing skills.  I struggle with patronizing individuals who want to provide professional development to show me how to use a big book.  I struggle with people who want me to teach word families and to use only visual information and expect me to teach not using meaning and structural cues.   I struggle with what I know are best practices and with what I know are not. I struggle with keeping my integrity intact and my ego in check. 

And yet, I see my boys grow.  Sometimes, I look back over my day and I think of the conversations I've had with the boys.  Somehow, we are communicating.  Today, at least 3 or 4 boys let me know they saw me in the Tug-o-war.  I think they got a kick out of it.  Each day, we have conversations about where we are going and when we will go.  We have built things together, we do projects together.  I think they want to take care of me.  They have taken stacks of books out of my hands to carry for me to put them away.  

Two days ago, they were so wound up.  They would not settle down, it didn't matter what I did I could not get them all to listen, I was angry and frustrated and eventually I was literally moved to tears, and when they looked at me and saw my distress, they stopped, they settled and they began to listen.  I could see the compassion in their eyes and the age old "man-look" of panic and confusion and concern for the crying female, and could tell they just wanted to make everything better.

They know when they are being naughty.   Yesterday, I had a list of several boys that needed to stay in during their break for being disruptive.  I began by letting the boys go to break one-by-one.  Then, the rest of them ganged up on me.  Somehow, more than one slipped through the door and they were gone!  Like a pack of wolves out the door they went.  Well, I had already corraled two of the boys on the list and they stayed dutifully behind and put their heads down on their desks.  I was alone and couldn't chase after the other offenders without losing the two I had.  Within a few minutes, much to my surprise, I had one of my runner rule-breakers come straggling back through my door.  He had willingly given up his freedom and came back to pay his dues, or perhaps he was just returning to the scene of the crime, or perhaps, just maybe, I did get through to him some of my expectations.  I'm not sure how it all came about, and then, not one more, but two more of my buddies came back.  Of course they giggled and continued to cause me more grief before I could get them to settle down long enough to think they were being punished instead of me.  Maybe, just maybe we are making progress.

There are two things I know I am doing well with my boys.  Those of you who know me well won't be surprised.  First,they are beginning to write.  They love their journals, and I love their journals.  Yesterday, I told them to draw pictures of the UAE flag in their journals and to write/draw about the National Day celebrations.  Beautiful flags were made, but to my concern, mafi-letters (no letters) mafi words.  I could tell a mini lesson was in order.  With much difficulty and energy I gathered them all on the rug.  The next challenge was to get them to "shouf" look at me and then "ismak" listen.  Ten minutes later, I was able to introduce El Konin boxes and stretching words by saying the word "f-l-a-g" slowly.  I drew attention to the "f"sound, we made links to the Zoo Phonics fish by putting our palms together and wiggling our thumbs making the "f" sound, and then.... I drew the letter F.  "F_l_a_g" I said as I dragged my finger beneath the word.  "Flag/fish", I made links to the initial letter.  I saw lightbulbs go on!  The room was freakin' flashing with lightbulbs all over that room!  F's were drawn, flag was stretched and was written "f l g" , M's for mangos and B's for burgers were drawn and written and UAE started emerging on journal pages and finally to end the day, a pizza was drawn and when I pointed out the word, "PIZZA" next to the pizza on our ABC chart, awareness dawned and my writers emerged and a word, an entire word "PIZZA" was written and read aloud next to a drawing of a pizza, "Miss Sheri, Pizza!" Abdul Satar proudly read.  Meaning, structure and visual - orchestration of the three cues needed for reading. .

And so I struggle, but we are learning.

Scrags

I've been away for awhile.  I've been hiding within myself, just trying to hold on.  Life is not bad for me, it is just different.  Things are going on at home that occupy my mind.  First and foremost, the blessed arrival of Baby Ella.  She is beautiful and arrived without much muss and fuss, on my end anyhow.  Sadie and Jesse may not agree.  Each time I see a newborn baby in this land, I wilt a little bit, and I watch grandparents playing with infants with a great deal of envy.  Envy is not a good trait, I must try to count my blessings.

Doug is here with me now.  It has been difficult to find a quiet time and spot to be alone with my thoughts  and to blog.  My apologies.  We are not tripping over each other's space now.  We have moved into our villa.  I have lived for eighty-nine days in a hotel.  It was a nice hotel and encompassed at least three different moves into four different rooms and two different hotels.  I suppose my relief at having our home now does not define me as a world traveler.  It was fun a little while.  I never imagined I would be homeless for so long!  All is better now.

Our villa is out in the middle of nowhere, and I LOVE it!  We are away from the city.  It takes us at least 25 minutes to get to the outskirts of the city where we can get food and household items.  No more running to the mall next door for supplies for tomorrow's lesson or for tonight's fast food dinner.  I'm  going to need to be more organised in my thinking and planning.  That's okay.  We do have a new grocery store only about ten minutes away.  My favorite part of the entire store is the section in the back that is labeled, "Non-Muslims Only."  They stock delightful items like pork chops and pork loins and bacon and sausage and hotdogs and bologna and pork rinds and salami and all of the things that I have been deprived of since I left home.  They have ...... HAM!!!  Honey ham and smoked ham and deli ham, I have SO missed having my favorite ham and cheese sandwich.  I have to admit, I have had bacon for breakfast for the last three days.  It's all gone now, I think I'm okay with not having bacon for awhile.  I just needed to work through the feelings of deprivation.

I have so much to catch up on.  I will start with a little adventure I had at school one day.  We have a room called our LT room.  In this locked room, we have a bathroom and a sink and fridge and table and counters for workspace.  It's like a nice little teachers' lounge.  I may duck in there every few days to use the facilities or to snatch a few moments of peace and quiet.  One day, after hanging out for 10 minutes, or so, I was casually looking through some big books laying on the counter when I heard a little whimpering, "meow."  I looked out the window to the outside yard thinking there might be one of the wild cats outside.  No cat.  "Meow, meow, MEOOWWW," I heard.  At that point I determined my feline friend and I were sharing the same quarters.  So, I began to search about.  Obviously, he wanted to be found.  I lifted table skirts and peeked about, at that point I decided I needed reinforcements.  So, I went in search of one of our workers. 

She was busy with one of her never ending mopping chores, but she was more than happy to put aside her mop and help me with my quest.  She got down on her hands and knees and peeked beneath the counter, and sure enough, there was this little bit of scraggly thing.  Orange and white striped hugging the back wall just waiting for some one to find him.  Of course the whining, " meow, meow, MEOOOOW!!!"  helped with the search.  After some poking about with a broom stick, the worker lady snatched him out from under the counter and wrapped him up in a paper towel.  He didn't look quite so cuddly now.  Actually, kind of scratchy and just a little bit creepy.  He had one third eyelid that sort of refused to go back in place and covered part of his green eye.  He looked like he really needed some one to love him. 

I could have easily fallen in love with scragglepuss, but then I would be stuck with a problem.  It would be a big problem, because I would end up forking out big bucks to take the little feller home with  me when my time is up here.  Fortunately, I had a good idea for a home for him.  The worker lady and I stuck the little guy in a cupboard until I could commandeer a suitable box for him.  I sent a few text messages and talked to a few colleagues. One of my co-teachers warned me not to let him out into the courtyard because she was certain the boys would kill him....gulp. 

Plan A included Michelle.  Plan B involved letting him loose outside the school to fend for himself.  I didn't like plan B very well, Plan C was as a last resort bringing him home with me, I didn't think the hotel would look favorably upon Plan C, so I was really counting on Plan A working out.  Michelle texted back saying that, yes she wanted the cat but would have to talk to her husband first.  I anxiously awaited her next response.  Finally, at day's end, I collected my furry friend, now nicely deposited in a box with airholes, and called Michelle.  Well, she hadn't yet talked the matter over with her husband, but decisions were made in a hurry and before any minds could be changed, I quickly made my way over to her house. 

It was love at first hiss.  When they lifted the cover off the box and made the first cautious effort to stroke the little darling, kitty reacted with a great big, "hisssspt!"  We all went, "Awww..."  Michelle had the biggest, happy grin on her face.  I knew they were going to be a happy family, and I beat a hasty retreat back to the city.

The next day, Doug and I went out to our villa to clean up and begin to get ready to move in.  Michelle and family just happen to live right across the street.  I was really afraid to call her.  I figured they would love me or hate me after 24 hours, I had visions of a wild fleabitten hellcat living next door, but I decided no news was good news.  I sucked it up and cowardly sent a message enquiring after the wellfare of  "meowface."   Michelle called right back and told me to come visit.  I tripped across the street and was met with the site of fuzzy little scraggly kitty all nestled up snug beneath daddy's chin.  That silly little cat is one of the cutest little ugliest little cats I've ever met.  When he's lifted up and his paws are reaching for something to catch, his legs stretch way out and are long and seem way out of proportion to the rest of his body.  His ears are just way too big for his pointy little head and puts me in mind somewhat of a gremlin.... Awwww..... I quickly dubbed myself  "Auntie," and received the position of Kittysitter when they go away on excursions.  Ahh, home sweet home.

It's been a pretty crazy two (or has it been three?) weeks.  Long story short, Doug is here.  Life seems better for me with him.  I don't feel the loneliness and emptiness I felt before.  I still have strong heart twangs when I see a newborn infant with a mother, or worse with a grandmother.  Although Ella has not yet arrived, I am already grieving the absence of the holding and hugging and cuddling moments I am never going to experience with her as an infant. Those are the memories I hold so dearly in my heart from raising my own children.  The milky fresh powder scent of a freshly bathed baby.  The warm soft weight of a contented infant asleep on my shoulder snuggled against my neck as we gently rock back and forth in my favorite chair.

I miss my horses, especially now.  This is my favorite time of the year to ride.  I miss the changing of the leaves and trailrides through the woods.  A few nights ago, I took Doug to a furniture store at the mall.  I had to show him the lamp.  This is not just any lamp.  I wish I had the luxury of just being able to purchase this lamp just to have it. This lamp is a plastic mold of a full size horse, head, legs, barrel, rump, tail and all.  To literally top it off, the horse has a lamp on top of its head, right between the ears, it sticks up and has a lampshade.  I can stand beside this horse and feel like I am standing next to a real horse.  I'm missing the entire tactile experience, of course, but it's about as close as I'm going to get to the real thing for awhile. 
I just tried to upload a photo of it.  I failed.  But, I promise I will try again later, I will prevail.

I also have a photo of three camels riding in the back of a truck in downtown Abu Dhabi.  Now, that is something I've got to see before I leave this country.  I want to know how in the heck they get the camels in the back of the pickup, and how they get them to  lie down, and how they get them to stay in.  It's pretty amazing to me! Those camel guys already have my respect as I think about all of the horse trailer loading episodes I've gone through!  I promise I will load that photo also.

This blog entry is short and sweet.  I have much more to say, but right this moment, the pool is beckoning.  More later. I promise. 

Daze

It's been quite a while since my last post.  I do apologize.  Every school day is a challenge.  Every evening after school is a new adventure and not usually in a fun or exciting way.  I know these difficult times will pass, I know I will grow.  I know I will emerge with new strength, but quite frankly, this part of the journey stinks.

Michelle implemented a rule that we could only take on one task, or errand each day.  Fighting the traffic in Abu Dhabi at certain times of the day is sometimes unbelievable.  If we can find just the right time of day to make a run, it is easy.  Other times, agonizingly slow.  One day we were out on a mission and with our objective complete, we headed toward the hotel.  We usually have a good idea of the general direction to move, unfortunately we made a turn too early.  At one point we could literally see the crown of our hotel only a block away.  However, construction prevented us from making a direct beeline.... 45 minutes later, we made it to the hotel.  Incredibly frustrating.  I think that was when Michelle made the one errand rule. 

There have been days lately since my last posting when we have had to break our one errand rule.  There are so many things that we have to do just to be able to get by here.  It seems that at some point, some one in charge decided that everything important, or even just slightly important, or even things not important to others at all needed to be made important.  Importance here from my perspective is defined by the necessity of a "letter from employer," and/or by a stamp.  Not just a stamp like a postage stamp we are familiar with in the states.  No this is the kind of stamp that is inked and delivered mechanically with a fancy little machine with a wooden knob on top and levers and probably hydrolics that lift the official stamp away from the stamped paper.  And, only an important person can personally stamp the unofficial paper to make it official and important.

Last week, Michelle and I spent many days visiting many offices after school in our long skirts to get things accomplished.  At one point, as we sat with our queue numbers in hand, because when you go to visit an office to get a stamp, or anything, there is a little machine that spits out numbers telling you when you get to see the "man with the stamp,"  ....  and... you have to make certain you push the right button on the number spitting machine to get the right man with the right stamp, or you have to start all over again.  There is a very nice "lady voice" that comes over the loudspeaker that says in a soothing British-South Afrikan-Australian accent, "bing.  Now serhving custahmeh numbah one-thirtee-five at counteh tw-elve."  So, then you know where you are supposed to go, maybe. 

So, as I started to say, at one point, as we sat with our numbers in hand, letting the ink smear from our nervous palms, I listened to the ka-chunk, ka-chunk of the stamp machines making things official.  It was really quite amazing to me.  I suggested to Michelle that we should count the number of ka-chunks we heard as we sat there waiting.  She didn't want to play.  Sigh.  I missed my husband.  Doug would have already been counting.  He would have been ten ka-chunks ahead of me.

At that particular time, we were in an office at the mall waiting to pick up our translated marriage licenses.  Of course they could only be translated after we paid the man at the counter across the room 160 dhirhams and then marched back across the room to wait for the man with the frown to come out of his important glass office behind the counter with his official stamp machine to ka-chunk our marriage license to attest that they were official.  At that point, it was okay to leave our original marriage licenses that have already been authenticated in the USA at the county, state, federal and UAE Embassy level with the nice man named none other than Mohammed, to translate from English into Arabic, so that some one at immigration can read that we are officially married to the men we say we are..... so that eventually, we can get visas for our husbands to join us in the UAE.

Which brings me to to lowest part of my journey.  Yesterday was beyond difficult for me.  It was the day in which all of my frustrations and emotions culminated to the point that I literally layed my head in my arms upon my desk and sobbed.  Once the tears started, and the sobbing commenced there was no going back.  I just had to let it all out.  Emster, where were you when I needed you?  You always know how to get me calmed down.  But, you weren't there, so I had to go it alone.  My colleague was there.  She saw the anxiety attack for what it was.  She is a wise woman and she knew I needed something.  Fortunately, one of the teachers at school who I consider a friend and acts as my Arabic co-teacher at times when she isn't stretched too thin between all of us LT's.  Imagine, one Arabic co-teacher/translator between seven LT's.  Unbelievable.  

Back to my emotional breakdown, it all started when I received a text message in Arabic.  I asked a colleague what the message said.  She said that it explained that Doug's visa was ready at immigration.  Yahoo!  I was so excited.  That was two days ago.  That day, I went to man behind the counter to find out how to get Doug's visa.  He said that the text only said that the visa was being processed and that it wasn't ready.  And that he had drivers that would get the visa and get it to me immediately.  I didn't believe him and I came away sad and disappointed with no visa.  Once I get Doug's visa, supposedly, I can get his ticket here the next day, we'll see.

So, I went back to the hotel and asked at the front desk to have some one read the Arabic text again.  That person told me the visa was ready to be picked up.  Hmmm. So, yesterday during my break I was determined to get to the bottom of where the visa was and how I was going to get my greedy little palm on it.  However, I didn't know who to call, or how to get them on the phone and then once I got them, I didn't think I would understand them and be able to communicate with them.  I was stymied. 

However, my breakdown came after a very frustrating and daunting morning in the classroom. Without an Arabic teacher in the classroom, the boys are very unruly and disrespectful.  I don't believe it is malicious.  I believe it is out of frustration and immaturity.  They don't know what we want.  They don't understand us.  When we want to take them to another room to reward them and show them a movie, they become distrustful and frightened.  They run. Survival mode kicks in and unruly behavior emerges.  It happens all day everyday.  And it is hard.  It's beyond difficult.  It's the hardest teaching assignment I have ever had.  Even worse than the year I had my own son in school, and that was the class from H - E - double hockey sticks!

The day before yesterday, I had boys literally climbing the walls.  Once one boy starts then at least two or three more follow.  I was so afraid that some one would get hurt.  I was in the room alone, and I was out numbered.  Eventually, my co-teacher came in, she's a very strong teacher and order was restored with Arabic language and communication.  Yesterday morning, in another LT's room, with two LT's in the room, one boy poked another boy in the eyelid with a pencil, fast.  Blood flowed.  With two teachers in the room, we couldn't stop it.  It was unnerving, to say the least.  Right after that, another LT brought a little guy into our room.  With tears in her eyes, she said she needed to leave him with us to keep him safe because the other boys were ganging up on him and trying to poke him with pencils.  Again, she was outnumbered.  It's hard.

So, that is what happened in class right before my break.  As I tried to pull myself together to address the issue of how to get Doug's visa, I lost it.  It all just became too much.  I didn't know where to start, or even how to proceed.  And then the tears started the anxiety ensued.  My Arabic teacher friend, and my other LT teacher friend, were able to coax out of me all of my frustrations and visa problems.  They sorted through things, phone calls were made, and it was determined that indeed the visa was done, but the man behind the counter lied to me.  They don't have drivers to pick up Doug's visa to get it to me immediately.  The visa will be sent through the mail.  Un-be-liev-able.  More days delay.  I could have had Doug's visa three days ago, I could have gotten his ticket for this weekend.  But no, now I'm waiting on the mail, and more sorting out.  I'm very angry, very frustrated, very, very upset. 

I'll get over it.  Doug will make it here.  We will have adventures in Abu Dhabi, Inshallah.  Today, I hate that word. 

School Days

Wow!  I have a few more followers!  I love that!  I am so sorry I have not posted anything for about 10 days.  I suppose that would be because I started school.  When I come home, I am whipped and my feet hurt!  Except for today, I wore my birkenstocks, much better on tile and on my toes! 

So, I suppose you want to hear about the schools, especially since that is why I'm here.  My school is beautiful.  There are many murals on all of the walls, and the windows are painted so they look like stained glass.  I teach in an all boys school with an all female staff.  We have around 500 students from grade one to grade five in my building.  The day is broken up into seven forty minute periods with five minutes between periods.  We share our students with an Arabic teacher, so normally the LT's (licensed teachers) have two classes, one in the a.m. and one in the late morning and early afternoon.  The Arabic teacher takes one class in her room, while we teach the other class in our room.  Last year the children switched classes every forty minutes.  This year we have moved to block scheduling, so we have the students for English, math and science for a total of about two hours and fifteen minutes.  Right now, that is plenty of time, but I know it's going to get tight once we start hitting the curriculum really hard.

The students attend activity classes throughout the day.  We have two sports teachers, two art teachers and two music teachers.  We also have IT teachers for computers, but I'm not certain yet how many.  So, the LT teacher gets a planning period while the boys are at activity class, and the Arabic teacher gets a planning period while the boys are at another class.  My boys today had sports and music.

We start school at about 7:10 a.m.  and the boys leave at 1:00 p.m.  We stay for another hour after they leave for professional development.  Kind of sounds like a piece of cake, but let me tell you, I have checked my watch often just to make certain it is still working.  The time can move very slowly sometimes. At 7:10 or 7:15 the music teachers begin to play music in the courtyard with drums and a  keyboard, and all of the students and teachers and administrators gather in the courtyard.  The boys line up in straight rows by their teachers, and the sports teachers have the microphone.  They have a routine of shouting commands and the boys respond with their arms above their heads, to their sides, in front with hands on the boy's shoulders in front of them, they clap, they stomp their feet, and they march in a 360 degree pattern in place.  Then, the musicians move into the national anthem.  I love to watch the boys sing.  They shout out the words with great pride and enthusiasm. Sometimes the principal makes announcements or older students recite readings.  Eventually, each class will present a skit or some type of presentation.  I'm not certain what exactly happens yet, but I am certain I will find out!

I know that my first grade boys can learn.  They are really smart about a lot of things.  They know exactly what's going on and how to get what they want.  These first few days have been very difficult for me.  The language barrier is very frustrating.  My boys are very good when their time is occupied and when they know what I expect from them, but it just takes one little stinker to get bored and to misbehave and then I've got five or six followers, and they think it is very, very funny.  I don't.  My greatest frustration is the "runners."

These little fellows are very, very fast!  To my great dismay and embarrassment, they will dash out the door.  I suppose they would be very good at stealing bases in baseball, because when I am away from the door they will make a run for it!  It is a very funny game to them.  It goes all against my grain, but we were told to not chase the runners.  The school is locked and the social worker will go after them.  They find them and eventually return them to our class.  But, then, when the door opens, out pops another runner!  And, it's not just me, there were runners all over the place the first day.  On day two, we were more prepared and we recruited more adult bodies to deter runners and return them.  If we have another adult in the room it is much easier to monitor and manage the class.  

They sound so naughty, but I don't think they really want to be.  I was in an Arabic class to learn very basic phrases for orientation and my head hurt after ninety minutes.  It was so much unfamiliar information.  I wanted to run, too!   So, I get it.  I understand, it is hard.  It's hard to sit, it's hard to listen to a bunch of words you don't understand, and I have found that when I plan right, things go very well... today.   Notice, I didn't say, plan hard, I said, plan right.  I planned really hard, and very thoughtfully after day one, and I met with some success, but boy things fell apart in a heartbeat on day three. 

It was hard.  I'm a veteran teacher.  I know stuff, I have experience, I've managed tough classes, I've worked through some tough kids, but this was tough.  However, I'm very fortunate that I have some very excellent colleagues and furthermore, I only have one class of students.  I am support for the other two first grade classes during my three periods without students.  Right now, that support has taken different forms.  On day two I was able to just be another body in another LT's classroom.  I've tried to just be where the trouble starts and put out fires so the teacher can teach.  That has been working very well and now things are starting to work better within the classrooms.  I think another adult in the classroom makes all the difference in the world.  Much of my time the last few days has been filled with discipline.  However, today I noticed a change.  It was good!

This morning, I was fortunate to observe my friend in the room next to me.  She is very good and I can tell she has taught ESL students before.  I believe her special education experience is a huge advantage.  I noticed how she is very good at conveying messages with her body language.  She uses facial expression and very concise phrases to get her message across.  She also has visual cues on her bulletin board.  I have always raised my hand and counted down from five to get students' attention, but she was awesome.  She had visual cues to tell the students what she expected to happen at each number countdown.  I totally stole her management plan and it worked fabulously for me this afternoon!  I did tell her I was going to use it, she gave me her blessing.  She really didn't need me for much today, she's got it under control, so next week, I should be able to start teaming with her to meet students needs academically and not just as a disciplinarian.

One thing I have noticed from my own little slanted view, is that it is very difficult to communicate with these little guys in English.  We use our cell phones to call in recruits for extra help.  Our building is so cool, we have several people who speak English as a second, or third language, very well.  It has been a huge help to me and to other LT's, especially in first grade, to have an Arabic person in our room to help explain things.  I can teach a lesson.  I can get my point across in a lesson, it's the management things that go awry.  It's getting the little tykes to put their papers in their backpacks, to get them to raise their hand when they need Miss Sheri instead of ganging up on me in a pack, or getting them to clean up and put things away and to not squirrel the science toys away in their pockets to take home, or to get them on the rug to hear a story, or to get them to leave their backpacks in their cubbies, or to let them know it's not time to go home when the bell rings between each period. They are very good when they know what's expected of them.

This is all new to me.  I'm certain anyone who has had experience teaching ESL (English as a second language) students is getting a good chuckle out of all of my bungling mishaps, or perhaps they are shaking their head and tisking their tongues.  Yesterday, I was very discouraged, I felt like a first year teacher all over again, actually not really because I had great confidence when I was a first year teacher, I guess ignorance was bliss then!  But, now, oh my goodness.  Yesterday, I felt like such a failure for needing to call in extra help.  I felt like my authority was taken away when another adult came in to help me restore order, but today, I managed my needs better.  When I requested help, I asked that things be explained to the students.  I had my expectations made clear to them, and I felt better, and I think my little guys felt better, too.

I was even able to get out manipulatives for them... puzzles and legos and blocks, and it was not a nightmare!  They were great!  They even helped restore order and sort everything out to put things away.  It was a great success.  They were so proud of the things they built.  I took pictures and I've got to print some out to display in the hall tomorrow.

Another thing that is different for me is their names.  I am embarrased to say that I do not know all of their names after four days of school.  How can that be you must be wondering.  I would wonder, too.  I've always known my students' names, usually after one or maybe two days.  But I do not, much to may chagrin.  Here's the deal.  There are many Mohammad's and Ahmad's and Abdullah's.   What happens when there is more than one Mohammad, or maybe it's Mohammed is that his second name is his father's name. So then I might have Mohammad Abdullah, or Abdullah Mohammed.  Right now, I think I have at least three, or four Mohammad's and a few Abdullah's and at least two Ahmad's.  It's all very confusing for me, and when they tell me their names, they are very quiet, cute, but quiet...and while I am crouching down to hear a whispered name....the door is untended... next thing I know... I've got a RUNNER!!!   Hmm, perhaps it is a conspiracy :)  Stay tuned and watch me grow.  I have so much to learn.

Sights.....

Yay!  I have more followers.  It's exciting for me to see my little list of followers grow.  I love it when you write comments, too.  So, please continue to feed my incentive to write. 

I've been wondering what next to write about.  Things are pretty quiet around the hotel, now.  It became quite festive on Friday, the first day of Eid.  Many, many families came to the hotel to hang out by the pool and to enjoy great meals and visits to the mall. 

Abu Dhabi Mall is attached to the Beach Rotana Hotel.  We don't even have to go outside to get to it.  It's quite large.  The mall has a big food court, and a co-op, where we shop for food and necessaries.  The co-op has almost anything you might want.  It's a market and a department store all wrapped into one place.  And of course there are beautiful jewelry stores, and shoe stores, and many of the top name brand stores.  Most of us LT's don't shop at many of the stores because they are a bit out of our price range.  There are also furniture stores and a movie theatre.

Tonight, we finally made it to the far end of the mall.  There is a store with an item that many of us have wanted to find.  During one of our first days of orientation one of our speakers showed us photos that she took when she first arrived in Abu Dhabi five years ago.  One of the photos was of a camel resting while riding in the back of a pickup truck.  Another photo was of a lamp.  This was not just any ordinary lamp. It was a lamp of a horse.  It wasn't just a horse lamp, it was a life size horse lamp. Yep.  You got it. It really is real horse size.  We found it tonight.  Can you believe it's still there?  Five years later, that horse lamp is still there.  Go figure.

I haven't personally seen a camel in the back of a pickup truck, but I have seen three goats riding in the back of a truck.  I did hear a story today.  It's not a good story, but it's a story worth recording.  I did get the story second hand so please forgive me if I get any of the facts confused.  Apparently, some people went on a road trip yesterday. They went to one of the cities further away.  On the way home, the driver and the passengers spotted a camel along the road.  It was the first camel they've all seen.  So, the driver decided to circle back to get another look. 

It was not a good sight to see.  Once they arrived back at the camel sighting scene, all of the traffic was backed up.  The camel had been hit by a car and killed.  And, I can't confirm it, but I believe there may have been a fatality, too, in the ensuing  vehicle pile up.  Like I said, it's not a good story.  But, it's a story.  In Michigan, it's common to see deer carcasses alongside the road.  A deer can really mess up a car, but a camel?  I hope to avoid camels and cars.

Back to the mall.  Things were much livelier at the mall the last few days.  I avoided the mall Friday night, but it was busy.  It was packed with people and entertainers, and children ran to and fro.  The children carried balloons and met up with adults who gave them candy and money! 

Over the weekend, I did see drummers and dancers.  The dancers were men dressed in their long, loose white robes called kandooras with ghutras on their heads.  I think most of them had red and white checked ghutras.  The square ghutra is folded in half like a triangle and held in place with a black cord called an ogal, on top.  According to Ali, a local celebrity, the cords used to be used to tie a camel's legs together so it wouldn't run off.  Now, the ogal helps to keep the scarf in place. 

It's interesting to me to watch the young Emirati men as they wear their ghutras.  The fold is placed toward the front of their head. I don't know the answer to this question, but I often wonder if the ghutra is starched?  Many of the men wear white ghutras.  I have seen them carefully and oh so tenderly run their fingers across the folded edge of the material, as if they are shaping it to gently flow upwards like a small brim.  It reminds me of the good ol' boys I've seen back home shaping the bill of their baseball caps, coaxing just the right curve to get just the right fit.

I also am fascinated by the way the men mess with the long flowing tail of the ghutra.  I'm certain there must be a name for the part of the scarf that hangs down their back but I don't know it.  I've watched the men who have been invited to speak to us fold and flip and toss the sides of the ghutra back behind their shoulders.  An animated speaker may toss a side back and then repeatedly continue to do so as they move about.   Others will  layer first one side and then the other, carefully, gently as if to prevent wrinkles.  It must be a learned technique, because I have seen some ghutras slip back to hang down, and I've seen others stay in place, stacked just so and piled behind the head and off the neck.  I've yet to see a wrinkled ghutra.

And, oh my goodness, the abayas!  An abaya is the long black robe that the Emirati women wear.  I've seen very basic black plain abayas, and I've seen very beautiful elaborate abayas.  The ornate gowns can be adorned with sequins and jewels and laces and crystals, sometimes with black accents and sometimes with striking blazing blue, or pink, or silver or gold accents.  Lovely.  They wear a scarf on their heads called a sheila.  These also can be plain or elaborate. 

I don't get how they drape them to make them stay in place.  When we toured the Grand Mosque we were given abayas and sheilas to wear.  Some girls helped us with the sheila to wrap it around our heads. I was terrified that the security guards were going to whisk me right out of that mosque because I could not keep that slippery piece of film on my head.  My hair popped out and poked out.  I twisted and twitched the material to keep my hair covered.  I folded and adjusted and pulled it forward and layered and loosened and tightened and tucked all to no avail.  I finally settled on just holding the topmost edge and pulling it forward over my forehead.  So, there I stood, or sat looking like I was tipping my hat to passersby. I'm certain I missed most of the interesting information because of my preoccupation with keeping that sheila in place.   And Michelle, she looked so serene in her sheila.  It stayed so snug against her skull, no hair peeked out from her perfectly framed face.  Since that experience, I have noticed some women have a decorative pin, almost like a hat pin that keeps everything in place.  I'm not certain how I would get along with a sheila and a pin.  I hope to avoid sheilas and pins.

Change

Many events have transpired within the last few days, not all developments are encouraging and I don't want to appear as a whiner so I won't elaborate and embellish... or maybe I will. It all depends. I've heard that phrase often here. It all depends on when the moon appears as to when the three day Eid holiday begins, marking the end of Ramadan.

I received a wonderful email from my employer encouraging me to relax and to enjoy the holiday weekend. It informed me that I would not be kicked out from my hotel and that my stay has been extended for another ten days. That was good news. Also, I was told my housing paperwork was all in the right hands, more good news. Of course, nothing will be determined until after the holiday.

Many of us, myself included were, well, basically freaking out with our western ways when we noticed out the check out date on our key folder said our stay terminated on the 10th. Well, it was the 8th and I was beginning to wonder if I was going to be sleeping in my rented car, and if the AC would work well in a parking ramp. What I forgot to remind myself was that it was only the 8th. Not the 10th. I still had until the 10th. Why worry on the 8th when I still had two more days? Inshallah. I trust my employers, I know they want us to be happy and they want to make us feel safe, and that they want to take care of us.

On a more interesting note, a few nights ago, a friendly group of us trouped on down the road to a neighboring hotel that hosted a Mexican chain restaurant. Yay! And, to our joy we even found out the restaurant served all you can eat ribs, as in pork ribs. More cause for celebration. Yay! We even found baked potatoes. Yahoo! Life was looking good and our cause for celebration and merriment increased as the evening wore on.

Looking to carry on with pleasant chit chat, I asked my neighbor lady across the table about her hoped for living accommodations. As it turned out she was seeking a spot in the same complex as myself and my friend, Michelle. Now, Michelle and I have formed a loose allegiance to each other. She's my neighbor at the hotel, and we seem to end up as partners in many of our endeavors. We even were assigned living space across the street from each other at our, inshallah, future complex. Way cool.

Thinking we could be neighbors, I further inquired just exactly where in the complex the lady across the table from me might be living? She went on to explain in a very excited voice all about what a wonderful location it was, and how conveniently located close to the entrance it was, and how easy it was to find, and then I asked if she remembered the lot number? Of course she did and she pulled out a piece of paper with a map of the complex and pointed to it. It turns out she was indeed my neighbor. Her lot was exactly the same lot as Michelle's! Oh dear. The friendly tone at the table suddenly took a turn to awkward as Michelle sitting next to me whipped out her iphone and began to feverishly text our realtor.

Many texts and emails later, we still have unresolved ownership and rental agreements, as, you see, many things here "depends" on which realtor is the most savvy, and on whose paperwork is most accurate and on many factors of which we are just totally unaware. And so we wait. We wait for Eid to be over. We wait for businesses to resume work. We wait for teaching assignments. We just wait. We wait for the sun to go down a little bit so we can go to the pool.

The pool has become quite the place. It's the place to gather, to hang out, to catch up on the day's activities and events. We all migrate there around the same time. We shed our outer skins of long sleeves and long skirts, we don our swimsuits and either plunge, or tiptoe, into the cooled water. The pools are actually cooled here as opposed to heated back home.

We wade and stand on tiptoe or tread water, or some more vertically challenged (whom shall remain un-named) clutch children's styrofoam noodles to remain afloat. And our heads bob above water like turtles in a pond. We gather in groups and let the fears and frustrations of the day slough away as we cool off and either listen with empathy or interest. We talk about the day and logistics, we talk about home, we talk about work and families and what brings us here to this place.

Sometimes our floating circle changes as members drift off to hang onto the vertical wall that faces the Arabian Gulf. The wall is like a waterfall. The pool water flows over and down the wall into a channel and swimmers and watchers cling to the wall and sometimes pull themselves up onto the edge, again reminding me of turtles sunning on a warm rock at the edge of a pond.

And so, at times I drift away from the group. I cling to the wall and I watch. I watch the construction going on across the Gulf water upon an island. One of my friends told me about a woman she met at the pool. The woman apparently visits our hotel every year. Just last year, she said, that island that I watch was just desert. Desert with sand and camels on it. Now the island is occupied with many giraffe like cranes. Tall and long and bent cranes lifting large construction things into place. Steel rebar sticks poke into the air like bristols on a hedgehog's back. Concrete walls emerge daily, and glass walls continually climb the sides of buildings . I am amazed at the work that is done across the water from me. It goes on all the time.

In the evening, it seems the place comes to life, or perhaps we just notice it more then. The cranes begin to move in slow arcs. The lights come on and twinkle and shine, and muffled sounds creep across the water towards us. Modernization continues in Abu Dhabi and often I think, I would have liked to see that desert island with camels.

The Waiting Game Continues

So sorry to belabor the whole waiting game bit.  However, it is becoming quite old.  It seems like I have gone from frenzied nonstop getting ready to go overseas to a screeching halt of inactivity.  I'm not quite certain how to handle the time I have on my hands.  And, I'm tired.  I don't know why.  I just am tired.  Perhaps it's the heat, perhaps it's the unmeasured time, perhaps it's the continual worry and wonder of where I will be, and when I will be there.  Perhaps it's the whole culture shock of not quite knowing how things work here.  One thing I have learned is that our pushy western ways will not work. 

Patience, I keep telling myself.  Live in the moment.  Enjoy the moment.  Enjoy knowing that I don't have to make my bed.  That breakfast will be served.  That the beautiful pool will be cool and refreshing... but then, those nagging thoughts break in...but, will my apartment be approved?  Will our advance come through?  Will I have enough money to get through?  Will I have to wash my unders in the tub again?   And, just what exactly am I going to do on the first day of school?  Will I have supplies?  Will I have resources?  Will I have books?  WILL I FREAK OUT AND LOSE MY COOL AND GET DEPORTED??  Will I love my school?  Will I get along with my Emirate colleagues?  Will my principal like me?  Will I teach 1st grade?  Will I be able to teach a classroom full of boys?

I love boys!  Of course I will be able to teach a bunch of boys.  I am a veteran teacher.  I have experience on my side.  I have training. I know best practices.  I know assessment.  I know how to know what kids know.  I know how to figure out what they need to know.  I know how to scaffold the learning.  I can feel the worry and the tension literally flow out of my fingers as I write all of my "I knows."

I can do this.  I am a survivor.  I ask questions when I don't know.  I am a watcher and a lifelong learner.  I will be fine.

Yesterday, my friend, my adopted daughter, my colleague and my navigator, Michelle, and I rented a car.  I believe it was the last car available from that particular car rental agency.  We were so fortunate because Michelle actually put out email feelers to a variety of agencies and the one fellow that called to provide information was American.  He was even from Michigan!  Yay!  This helps with the language barrier.  Sometimes I get so exhausted carrying this wide eyed lifted eyebrow expression on my face.  It's the face that says, "Huh?  I think I got most of that conversation, but I'm quite certain I totally lost the most important clause or phrase that is going to cost me grief in the form of money down the road."  Perhaps if I open my eyes wider I will be able to see and understand better. Perhaps if I just listen "harder"  I can understand everything.  Sometimes, it's exhausting.  Maybe, just maybe, that's why I'm tired.

And so, we rented a car.  I took a deep breath, said a prayer and got in behind the wheel.  Yikes!  Right away panic set in.  I didn't fit very well.  The seat was too far forward, the steering wheel too low.  I immediately longed for my Dodge Caravan.  The AC blew warm air.  Immediately, I began chanting, "I hate this car, I hate this car, I hate this car, I hate this car,  I hate this car!"  Poor Michelle, she saw the maniac woman in me emerge.  I ordered her to call them back get an upgrade, and began a tirade of everything that was wrong.  The poor girl, she was at my mercy, by this time I was moving into traffic. She had no choice but to do as I said.   So very calmly she requested an upgrade with my ranting in the background.  Sorry madam, we won't have any upgrades available until Sunday after the holiday, more cars will be returned.  Perhaps we could just bear with it until then.  In other words, suck it up, Sheri.

And so, by this time, other drivers were already requesting that I allow them to move in front of me. No problem.  We got to the end of the block made a U turn and entered the parking entrance for the mall across the street.  A security guard actually motioned us into a spot directly in front of the mall. SW-EET!  Until we were ready to leave after our shopping spree.  A van was blocking our way.  The poor fellow sitting in the van tried to no avail to move the van.  He didn't know how to drive a manual.  So we waited. Eventually, a driver in the car behind us waiting to get out jumped in and moved the van.  With a seven point turn, I made it out to the tune of taxi toots and beeps behind me. Inshallah.

With more prayers, a reminder mantra of  "I love my car, I love my car," patient directions from Michelle and only one extra lap around the block due to me missing the hotel entrance on a one-way street,  we made it back, handed the keys over to the valet and entered the safety and security of our beloved Beach Rotana Hotel. We were greeted by our smiling doorperson and our beautiful lobby.  Ah, hotel sweet hotel.

The Stories

Many things are running through my mind today as I begin to post.  First, I have a sadness, an emptiness within.  I miss my home and all the things that make it my home.  My animals, my people, my couch.  I miss my couch and I hate that stupid couch.  It's old, it's falling apart, I can't lay down on it to take a nap for the life of me, too many lumps and bumps.  But, when I sit.... ahh, all my parts find a place of comfort.  I can prop up my feet and read, or watch TV or write in my journal, or decline Rufus' plea to plop in my lap.  For those of you who don't know, Rufus is one of my dogs.

Rufus is half lab and half Australian Shepherd. He doesn't easily fit on my lap but he gives good hugs and is quite the snuggler.  Sniffle, ragged breath... I'm okay, Rufus is in good hands right now.  I'm quite certain he's happy to chase a frisbee, or take a dip in his pool. Yes, I have a kiddie pool for my dogs.  It's quite entertaining actually, for me, to watch his head pop up over the top of the pool as he pants away the heat taking a break from retrieving the frisbee or old soccer ball, or just watching over his herd of horses.  Life would be simple if I were Rufus.

But, I'm not Rufus, I'm not home, I can't sit on my creaky couch.  I'm in a hotel room.  I have hotel furniture, it's never quite comfortable, except for the bed. Ahh, the hotel bed!  I worried at first that it would be too hard.  Very firm indeed, but I have not had a bad night's sleep since I've arrived, when I actually sleep, that is.  I've not had a single day of awakening with a sore back except for the night I used the wrong pillow and then I only suffered a little bit from a stiff neck, but I soon worked out all the kinks.  Silly things to be concerned about, silly things to blog about.

So, now I will stumble about and try to come up with something of substance.  Hmm, what could it be?  Ah, yes, the stories.  I believe there are many stories to find here in Abu Dhabi.  A few days ago during orientation to develop our cultural awareness, a few people shared some of their stories with us.  Their English could be measured in varying degrees from broken to excellent. But, who am I to judge?  Who knows how many languages each of the speakers could own?  Ask me about my Arabic classes! HA HA!  I fail!  There could be no comparison.

One speaker was a mother who told her story reading word for word from her handwritten pages.  Her composure was stiff but her story!  She fled from her home country seeking safety for herself and her children, yet still she misses her home country.  Another spoke with great presence and confidence explaining how she came here to sing with a band, and to send money home to her family.

And another, an Emirate man spoke with great feeling, affection and compassion.  He shared his story of growing up during the time before the oil discovery.  He described being the youngest and being able to ride the camels during his family's move from one place to another.  How the camel's slow plodding, rocking gait caused him to fall asleep and his family worried that he would fall off, they then packed loud clanging pots and pans around him to keep him from falling asleep.  With a chuckle he explained when that didn't work, then they would find rocks to put in the pans to clank and make more noise to keep him awake and safe!

He told us how they would begin to travel early in the morning, and stop to rest during the heat of the day, then to continue on in the evening when it cooled down some, and if they were lucky and had moonlight they would go on into the night. Then, with a smile he explained how that journey might take them four days, and now with the highways and an Emirate's love of fast cars.... forty-five minutes.  

He showed us a photo of a Bedoin home in those days, made out of palm trees, similar to the Native American longhouses, built in a circle to provide housing for the entire family, the father, brothers, cousins.  In his words he said, "It was better, I think, in some ways then, to have the entire family together.  Not spread out like today."  Our facilitator then went on to explain how many villas or homes our speaker owns today, along with the six cars, not camels, in his mansion driveway.

Our Emirate speaker also shared with us a personal experience of his meeting the beloved Father of this noble country Sheikh Zayed.  After hearing his story my respect and admiration of Sheikh Zayed was deepened and my curiosity piqued.  Sheikh Zayed's vision and leadership took seven sparse tribal territories and united them eventually into the United Arab Emirates.  The UAE is a young nation, it became a nation on December 2, 1971.  Sheikh Zayed saw to it that the Emirate people were able to benefit and profit from the wealth of the oil wells.  He also saw that the oil wells will run dry someday, and that is what has brought me to this country.

I am here to contribute my tiny piece to UAE history. Educational reform has snagged me in and carried me across the world.  I can only use my meagre knowledge and experience to teach in one small classroom to maybe make a difference.  Our orientation has made it perfectly clear that we are not here to "westernize" the children, we are here to "modernize" the children.  In no way shape or form am I to take the Arabic out of the children.  Perhaps the children can instill some Arabic ways in me.

In many ways, I fit in here already.  We've been told that there is "Desert Time" and there is "English Time."  I think my "Sheri Time" is very closely linked to "Desert Time."  Over and over we've been told to be patient, to be flexible, to go with the flow, to be respectful, to save face and to never, ever publicly humiliate. EVER.  Our pushy western aggressive ways will only get us nowhere here.  I'm thinking the three P's, patience, persistence and politeness will work the best in most cases.  Now, if only I can remind myself of these three P's when I get into a jam, I may manage to not get myself deported!

It can happen, and it has happened already when an expat lost his cool waiting.  I really don't want to be deported.  I want to see what's in store for me.  Some of my challenges in the near future will be to get my marriage license and my driver's license translated into Arabic.  This entails perhaps taking a cab to a certain street, locating a little shop and finding some one to literally write out in Arabic calligraphy my marriage license and my driver's license.  This will help when I need to get Doug a medical card for insurance and when I go to the Arabic equivalent of the Secretary of State to get my UAE driver's license, after I receive my UAE ID card and my residency visa.  So many steps and hoops to jump through. 

But first, I need to be free of this five star hotel!  Ah, life is SO difficult at times.  My greatest pleasure I look forward to is to have my own refrigerator.  We went shopping for appliances yesterday.  Ah, the joy and the thrill I experienced when I discovered the ice tray in the freezer compartment!  No, nothing quite so sophisticated as an actual ice maker, but (do you hear the bugles blowing?) an ice tray. I typed those two little words oh so reverently and slowly.  ......i....c....e.......t....r...a....y.   Where I can fill the little cube trays full of water and twist them over, they have their own little compartment with a twisty lever knob, where once the water is frozen into cubes, I can dump them into an   i....c....e......B.....I.....N!  Collecting oh so many frozen bits and chunks of ice!  All that I want, to use as I want, I can fill an entire glass full of them if I want and pour my Arabic Coke Cola Light over them and I can replenish them if I want. I can have an ice cube frenzy if I want, when I have my own place.  It's the little things that matter to me.

And then, there is the ....w..a..s...h...i...n...g........m....a...c....h....i...n....e.  Deep inhale..exhale. I won't take you to the murky depths of my thoughts there.  And with that thought, I will leave you as I must go wash my delicates in the bathtub, or perhaps the bidet, before I take myself to the five star pool.

Apartments

You want to know about apartments.  It's really different from the US.  There are hotel apartments which are pretty neat if you want to live in the city.  They are completely furnished with things in the kitchen, pots and pans and stuff.  They have 24 hour security and doormen.  A maid will come in a few times a week and clean for you.  Some of the hotel apartments have some pretty good perks.  One here will supply all of your water and soft drinks and once a month you can get a complimentary night at a hotel in Dubai.  That's pretty cool.  Some of them have underground parking or parking passes, but many also had very little parking available.  A few may have a workout room, and maybe one might have a pass to a pool at a nearby hotel.  I may be wrong, I've seen so many of them.  Usually the hotel apartments I've seen have one bathroom, one bedroom and small kitchen and a living/dining area.  They also come with all of the appliances already installed.  Oh, yes, and usually utilities are included in the rent, and once in awhile, internet.

The apartments are an entirely different deal.  They range from all sizes and all prices. Usually, they are unfurnished, with no appliances.  So, once you obtain an apartment and keys, you have to find your own appliances.  Also, a big plus is if you find an apartment with built in wardrobes, or cupboards.  There are usually no closets.  Usually there are lots of bathrooms.  Many of the apartments I looked at had a bathroom for each bedroom, which is pretty cool.  Often I've noticed parts of the apartments can be closed off.  Heavy doors are on each room.  I'm assuming this is for conserving energy with AC.

It seems like the further out away from the city you range the bigger the apartments, or rather, villas, become.  Often landlords are splitting up huge villas into several apartments.  But, we have to be careful when we rent because now each apartment needs to have its own utility meter.  There are certain regulations that have to be followed, and we aren't always aware of them.

I am currently awaiting approval for my housing.  We found a place and then had to get paperwork from the landlord and then submit it to our employer.  Now, we are waiting approval from our employer.  Once that happens we are hoping we will get our furniture allowance and a key to get in.  Over here employers have to provide housing for legal employees. It's kinda cool.  But, if both spouses are employed, only one can get the housing allowance. 

Now that we have gone through our orientation, this week we are are preoccupied with getting our housing approved and finding things to put in our apartments since most of us arrived with 2 suitcases filled with who knows what?  Some people opted for teaching supplies, some for clothes and some for a bunch of shoes!  Personally, I chose mostly clothes with a few choice teaching materials, and, um, yes, uh, shoes.  Shoes can be more difficult to find if you are up in the size 9 range, like me.  The Emirate women seem to be very beautiful, and very petite.

So, Inshallah (God willing) our housing is approved, we will scramble around to purchase appliances and a bed.  I think laundry soap and towels are going to be high on my list of necessities and probably a drying rack and iron and ironing board.  The dryers here mostly just spin out most of the water.  The washer I'm looking at is a washer/dryer combo all in the same appliance.  It's kinda cool.

My hope is that I can get my apartment this week and get it all stocked up and livable, and then my next big challenge is going to be to find transportation to and from work.  My school is out a ways from the city, and so is my apartment Inshallah. There are many other LT's who will be working near me, or beyond me and we're hoping to find spouses who aren't working to make a run delivering us to our schools and then picking us up at the end of the day.  We are learning to share resources and information in order to live conservatively and economically until we become settled.

Last night was fun.  My hotel room is on the 2nd floor and I have a small patio that runs into a large patio with lounge chairs and benches.  It's quite different from the normal balconies that most of the LT's have here.  So, a group decision was made that since I had the coolest digs that I should host an evening get together.  Since resources are getting slim here, we all decided to bring whatever refreshements we had available to us and to gather in my room.  It was quite fun.  We had a gathering of five ladies and we pooled all of our goodies together and actually ended up with quite a feast.  We exchanged stories and experiences and had a few giggles.  Good times, good friends, good food.  I still think the best is pretzel sticks dipped in Nutella.  Yum.

The Waiting Game

Today, I’m feeling a little bit blah. I’m starting to miss my green lawn and my flowers and my dogs and my horses and my kids and my husband…who else have I left out? I think the reality is starting to set in. The honeymoon phase is almost over and we’re going to get pushed out into the real world to sort out our differences and to make our way.


At times, I am a very social creature and that is fine when I first arrived. It was fun to approach a group of people and ask all of the typical questions, “What’s your name? Where ya from? Where are you teaching? “ Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. It’s all really good and really interesting, but like too much chocolate, it soon gets old, or I grow weary and I begin to search for something old, something familiar, something that feels like home, something comfortable.

I’m waiting. I’m waiting to see if my townhouse will be approved. I think it will, so that’s not really a worry. I’m waiting for 6:45 so I can go out to dinner. I’m waiting for tomorrow to find out which school I’ll be in and what grade I’ll teach. I’m waiting for a bank card, which should, Inshallah, come out tomorrow or the next day. I’m waiting for the realtor to get back to me with a lease agreement. Waiting is okay. I’m not complaining. I’m just practicing patience.

I’m waiting to find out how to get Doug over here, or when I can get him over. It doesn’t seem right for me to want to get him here when not even all of the teachers are here.

Television Trials and Tribulations

Okay, so some people have been asking me about TV in Abu Dhabi. I have a story. It was day two, or three here for me and I have decided that the women here are definitely not size XXL. So in order for my ego to survive I need to do something about that. Ramadan has helped because it is illegal to eat, drink, or smoke in public during this holy month. The Muslims are fasting from sunup to sundown. Once the sun reaches a certain point the people come out and celebrate. The malls and businesses are open until 1:00 a.m. and they have great feasts called Iftar.

After browsing through the CO-OP clothing racks and noticing that the XL shirts might fit a medium sized gal back in the states, and then getting all excited when I saw a tent that might fit me marked XXXXXL (yep, count ‘em, I did) FIVE X’s ! I decided it was time to hit the Beach Club. So, I moseyed on over early one morning past the pool and the running stream stocked with Choi fish, through the big glass doors and up the marble winding staircase to the gym. I scanned the area. It looked safe, only a few people, lots of my personal favorite machines, the treadmill, and I began to set myself up to… eh-hem, “workout.”

I strapped on my MP3 player, plugged the headphones into my ears, straddled the conveyer belt and started searching for the way to make the machine go. Ah, yes, “START.” No problem. All was going well for awhile until I began to scan the TV’s mounted on the wall. There were several and I noticed that the screen two treadmills down the row from me was playing Two and a Half Men! Yay! I was so excited to see Charlie and Allen that I decided I must immediately search for their channel on the TV screen on the wall in front of my treadmill.

Eventually I found their channel and then set about multi-tasking to simultaneously unplug my headphones from my MP3 player strapped on my arm, walk, locate the headphone plug on the treadmill, walk, plug the tiny little long silver prong into the tiny little silver prong hole on the treadmill, still walking, when I met with success! Headphones plugged in, but… no sound from my TV on the wall, well apparently that wasn’t going to work, so I decided, still walking, that I should listen to my MP3 player and try to read Allen’s lips, and I then began the task of hooking the darned little silver prong into the little hole in my bouncing MP3 player on my arm, still walking, when suddenly much to my surprise and chagrin, I found my feet deposited on the gym floor. I suppose I’m not much good at multi-tasking when athletics are involved.

Once I wiped the surprise off my face and giggled a little bit with the coordinated woman next to me, I resumed my walk and my search for American TV with Charlie and Allen. About that time a fit young man with a worldly accent came around with a remote and started to mute all of the TV’s in front of me. I asked him if that could have been the reason I couldn’t hear Charlie picking on Allen, at which point, he became oh so helpful and concerned about my welfare and needs.

He started pushing buttons on the monitor screen on my treadmill. Ah ha! TV shows started appearing on the monitor on my treadmill. It took him some time to find the right channel. He needed to go to other TV’s to get the right channel and then he had to push many more buttons on my treadmill, and by this time I probably only had about two minutes left to my 30 minute regime. I managed to smoothly transfer headphones once again from MP3 player to treadmill and…. Yes! I could hear them, Charlie and Allen….speaking…in Arabic. No subtitles. The English channels have Arabic subtitles. So long Charlie and Allen.  Sigh.

Spreading Our Wings

So, up until now, we've been sticking pretty close to the hotel.  Venturing out every so often to the mall attached to our hotel, or splitting fares to take a taxi to another mall across the city.  Malls are safe, tourist-y, easy ins and outs. We've discovered the pharmacy where we can go and talk to the pharmacist behind the counter and get something for a sinus infection, or a bug bite.  Not so bad.  We've been learning about the two phone companies and how to use our visa and passport to get a pre-pay phone.  We can't get a contract on a phone, or lease or buy a car until we have letters from our employers and our residency visas.

We're even getting quite competent with our conversions of dollars to dhirhams.  I've gotten so that I don't quite freak out at spending 15.75 dhirhams for a bottle of hair conditioner.  I've just got to remember to tell myself, "Divide by three, Sheri, divide by three."  So, a bottle of hair conditioner is about $5.75.  Not quite so bad, or maybe even a little bit less since the US dollar is worth about 3.68 dhirhams.  I've got to remember to start training.... er, I mean telling Doug to start thinking when he pays say $3 for something at home to remind himself that it will probably be about 9 dhirhams in Abu Dhabi, or his frugal nature will suffer quite a shock!  So much more to share, but I am tired.  We returned late from being fingerprinted at the police station. 

Da Plane! Da Plane!

How exciting! I have 4 followers, yay! I've always been a wannabe writer. So, yesterday we checked out hotel apartments, and today we had our medical check. Tomorrow we are scheduled to be fingerprinted and have our police check.


So much to say, and yet I feel I have so little time. Many folks have asked about the flight over. It was long. The service was excellent. Since it is Ramadan, food was served in plenty throughout the night. During my 14 hour flight I received 2 meals, a snack bag of crackers, and a Klondike bar! Sandwiches were offered and drinks distributed often.

We had a monitor on the seat in front of us. We could track our flight from Chicago to Abu Dhabi. There were a variety of views. I was pleasantly surprised to see Jackson, MI on the flight path. I didn't realize until we were beyond Jackson, but I could have zoomed in for a close look as we flew over. Pretty neat!

I lucked out. I chose an aisle seat in the back near the bathrooms, so I had room to get up and stretch often. And, as luck would have it, the two seats behind me were not occupied. Thinking ahead before take off, I asked a flight attendent if I might be able to move if the seats were still empty at take off. She replied that there was only supposed to be one empty seat, but she would let me know, so I wasn't too hopeful.

Well, a little man quickly spied an opportunity and planted himself in the empty seats. My lovely flight attendent immediately supplanted him out of the seat and directed me to the double empty spot! I loved her for that. Prior to moving to my roomy spot, a nice young Pakistani man in the seat next to me initiated conversation. He was very pleasant to chat with for a few minutes. I was a little bit worried that sitting next to a woman would make him uncomfortable. Apparently not.

There were movies and games and TV shows to choose to watch and play and radio and music. I was delighted to be able to watch 2 episodes of Big Bang Theory that I hadn't viewed before. Other than that, much of the flight was a blur for me. My mind was pretty numb and I felt much in a daze. I honestly don't believe that I slept at all, except for the last 15 minutes of some movie that I hadn't seen before, so I backtracked the movie and tried to watch the ending, but alas, it was time to land. I'll just have to be left with the unknown. Sigh.

I was very glad to note that my arm didn't swell from my lack of lymph nodes, and my ears didn't plug up like they normally do when I fly. But, best of all, I didn't collapse into a blubbering blob of emotion on the plane. I thought for sure I would have been a wreck. My mind keeps going back to the final moments at the airport when I clutched my carry-on to my chest and hugged and kissed Mom and Dad and Sadie and Em and Jesse and Doug. I felt myself turned in circles hugging and consoling the sniffles and tears and choked back sobs. I totally felt like Dorothy clutching Toto and saying goodbye to the Cowardly Lion and Scarecrow and Tin Man. Good-bye! Good-bye! Well, I'm not in Kansas anymore.

So, the flight was fine. We were met at the airport by ADEC people and handed our VISAS and herded into one line or another. The first stop was a retinal scan, some one told me it may have been to check for HIV, although I wouldn't want to say that was for certain. Next, we were hustled through customs and our carry-ons were X-rayed. Our VISA's stamped 2 times and then off to collect our luggage. We pushed our bags through hallways and by-ways at some point receiving a rose, until we exited the airport building to a HOT, humid, muggy, evening. We loaded luggage onto a truck and boarded busses to take us to our hotel.

Once again we were herded into a room, collected our room keys after turning over our PASSPORTS, but we had been forewarned about that, so I was okay with it. At that point porters and all available clerks began the task of unloading all the luggage from the truck. Zoom, zoom, zoom! It reminded me of the poor valets collecting keys and cars for our mass exodus from the national Reading Recovery conference last year. Those folks were hopping! I identified my luggage and went to my room. Sleep was a huge priority for me at that point, and I was not disappointed!

Abu Dhabi Day 3, 8-22-10

Here I am, in Abu Dhabi, UAE. I've even managed to set up my own blog... well, with a little help from my friend Michelle. I couldn't figure out how to get my webpages to show up in English instead of Arabic. It's all good now, "No problem." We seem to be hearing that phrase often.


Before I go into all of the exciting activities of my life, I need to thank some people. There are so many people who have helped me to be sitting where I am right now. Thank you Mom and Dad for letting me fly whenever I've needed to. Thank you Doug for not letting me back out of my dream. Thank you Jake and Sadie and Emily for giving me your blessing to go. All three of you said these words to me, "Mom, I think you should go." I saw the worry and the pain in your eyes. I wonder if you also saw the guilt and the fear in mine?

Jesse, oh my goodness. Thank you for pushing me to hold that stinkin' yard sale. It had to be done, but it sure wasn't fun. Derek, thank you for all of the scanning and carrying.  Mel, thank you for understanding. Jeffrey and Andrea thank you SO much for letting us have Roman last week, what a treat.  Jeff , you win the patience award for setting your dad up on facebook, whew!  Scott and Amanda thanks for all your techno support.  Joy and Eric thanks for the hook up on the blog and the international phone.  I do not know how I am going to do all alone on the other side of the world, I guess I'm just going to have to stretch my wings and fly.

Jeff and Joy and Scottie, thank you for letting me drag your father halfway around the world. Roman, you little stinker, thank you for letting me be the chosen one for just a few hours and thanks for all the sloppy smooches and hugs.  The list goes on and on.  I'll just mention a few more names and you'll know your part: Thanks John and Kim and of course, Mom and Dad once again, and ANGIE!  Wish you were here, you'd love it!  Molly, Maeghan and Josh, thanks for the stellar references on such short notice.

I wish I would have started this blog earlier to be able to share what has been running through my mind all summer long. The summer has been busy. I believe I have accomplished more since the close of the school year than I have in the last four summers combined. I feel like I have been putting out fires since I signed my contract with ADEC, (Abu Dhabi Education Council.).

ADEC, oh my goodness.  Some of you may know this all started when Tammy mentioned that Angie was going to interview in Toronto for an overseas position in Abu Dhabi.  I didn't even know where Abu Dhabi was!  But, that night was sleepless for me.  Abu Dhabi ran through my mind over and over and over.  It wouldn't leave.  Just for kicks, I decided to pull together a resume and cover letter to see what transpired.
Crunching 22 years of teaching experience into one small page was only the beginning of the challenges that lay in wait for me.  Thanks Joy and Angie for the cover letter advice.  Sadie Kay, thanks for all the organizational work with all the paperwork.

I submitted my resume and application on Tuesday, then received a phone call from Teach Away to submit another more in depth application.  The phone interview followed on Thursday with an In Person Interview scheduled for Saturday morning in Toronto.  Thanks Doug and Sadie. 

The contract arrived in my email the following Tuesday and I had to sign and return by Friday. Crazy, life changing events all because one lady said, "Abu Dhabi."

So, you might say, just the words Abu Dhabi?  Not only that, but Em goes off to school next week.  I've been toting some one to school with me everyday for 22 years.  Jake and I started our first days of school together.  He went to kindergarten and I faced my first class of fifth grade students.  So, I basically dreaded the thought of not sending some one to Western with me.  My house might seem so empty.  All the fledglings had flown the coop.

So, here I am, and here I shall stay for a while.  It is an unbelievable feeling knowing that I am so far away. It is nothing like I had imagined, and I had imagined the worst.  But, I knew God wouldn't send me so far away for this not to be rewarding. 

It is now 1:30 a.m.  I believe I have a tour of accommodations tomorrow, I'm just not certain what time.  I found out where I will be staying, more later!  Stay tuned!