Letters to Miss D.

Needing to fill a few minutes between lessons this afternoon, I asked my students to write me a letter when they finished their book work. Here's a general sampling:

Ms.D You are a WaNDrfull tech you are the Best techr in the Wlrd thank you For teching me Math Langig AnD BiBl.

But not spelling, apparently.

The distracted nature of the following letter is a blend of her butterfly-like personality and the rising action of the classroom at the time of writing:

To. Miss. Djerf.

I had a fun this Summer! I mist you that handwriting book is silly! I wish this was quieter. How was your Summer? I bett it was good. You should make a roull that people must be quiet exsept if you have a quwestden, coment or anser.

Rocken science lecen!

We should have rules? In a classroom? Are you kidding? But glad you liked the science lesson.

The following is probably my favorite:

Dear Miss D I really like your singing. And you read us great books. you write great. And you draw great

Yep, I'm forming a cult. The cult of the Miss Djerf followers. (Our motto: So we don't exactly listen to what she's saying, but we think she's great...) I think I'll pick this student to be the leader; he can spell.

Sound Bites

It's been an exciting seven days in first and second grade. The energy and noise which constantly exude from the eight boys, as well as the effect of my own directions reverberating throughout the room (rather than being absorbed by the students) are enough to make my ears ring.  In the midst of the hubub, however, I occasionally overhear bits that survive a retelling or two:

Yesterday morning, Grayson paused as he entered the room, threw his arms out, and announced, "Let the show begin!"  For him, life as usual. For me, an insightful moment.

Last Friday, in the middle of a Bible discussion, someone randomly interrupted, "Miss Djerf, what if Ashton was stalking you?" 

Fielding unrelated questions is in my job description. This time, I just laughed and lightly replied, "Oh, Ashton would never stalk me." 

Ashton, seated on my right, added, "Yeah!...Besides, I don't even know how!" 

When the gym teacher arrived in dress clothes instead of sweats today, my class piled on the compliments: "Mr. E, you look tight!" "Oh, Mr. E, you look handsome!"  My favorite was the first grader who said, "Mr. E, if you had sunglasses on, you'd look just like a guard at a party!"  (Is he thinking of a bouncer?)

The Opening of Kid-Quote Season

We had our first and second grade open house yesterday. A few kids came in to try their new desks and check out the new room arrangement (and see me, I guess).

My favorite conversation was with the second grader who happened to be the most quotable first grader in my class last year.

I hugged him, saying, "I missed you this summer!"

He sighed and replied, "I finally threw up."

While it wasn't what I was expecting, I did the best I could to roll with it: "You did? Were you sick?"

"No, I was brushing my teeth," he explained.

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that. Are you feeling better now?"

"Yeah, sort of." He paused, then ended with a flourish: "Miss Djerf, why is throw up always orange?"

I'm so glad he's back!

A Good Question to Ask When You're Singlehandedly Snarfing a Bag of Potato Chips

"So how old do you guys think I'll be when eating like this takes its toll on me?"

- Marissa during a recent road trip (to be fair, I must confess that I was assisting in the potato-chip snarfing)

Why I Feel Three-Fold Guilt Over the Passing of Another Brief Minnesota Summer

1. Yet again, I didn't make good on my resolve to be a better Twins fan.

2. My inner cheapskate won out over my inner State-Fair-goer.

3. During the only viable months for acquiring a natural tan, I failed to be outside long enough to get one.

I'm a terrible Minnesotan!

Fiction in Progress (or, What to do with a kidnapped Barbie)

"It's MY turn to be the set designer."  These aren't words you typically hear from a seven-year-old boy. I don't know where he learned the term, but he was employing it correctly; using my digital camera, we were shooting pictures for a story we've been working on.  And his nine-year-old brother HAD been hogging the set designer job.

I've recently spent several days with my four youngest cousins, and our chief occupation has been making a movie using pictures from my digital camera. The five of us collaborated on a story involving malicious Lego men who kidnap a Barbie princess and tie her up in some bushes above their hideout.  As each child has manipulated the plot, Barbie has escaped, fought off a gigantic spider, and made friends with a 3-foot-tall teddy bear. So far, so good. But now, we've run into a problem.

I've been told that the essence of writing good fiction is to create your character, stick him in a tree, throw rocks at him, and get him down.  We were following the formula perfectly until we came to the getting her down part. Turns out my cousins invent malicious plot twists so well that nobody wants to release our poor Barbie from the tree.

Today, the conversation with Mr Seven-Year-Old went like this:

Me: We're running out of time. We need an ending. How do we help her get away?

P7: All right, I've got an idea. We can have the lego guys re-capture her and hang her by a string over a fire!

Me: That's not an ending. That's giving her more problems.  And we don't have time to make a fire.

P7: OK, so then we could have the motorcycle guy come up to rescue her, only then he can turn out to be bad guy, so he cuts the string, and she starts to drop into the fire, only then her horse saves her.

Me: No, we're not doing anything with a fire. We need to do something different.

P7: OK.  (long pause) I still like my idea. Does anyone else like my idea?

Me: I like your idea, but we're not doing it. We're not doing anything with a fire.

P7: Hmmm... I still like my idea. Megan, let's just do my idea.

Me(mostly to myself): We don't need a fire, we need an exit strategy! 

His brothers and sisters agreed that a fire was too difficult. However, they suggested

- turning the decapitated spider into a snake which re-captures her, or

- having the bear betray her and turn her over to the Lego villians.

As far as I can tell, our heroine is still in a tree, and we're still throwing rocks at her. This movie may turn out to be darker than I expected.

Having Church

We could hear the singing from outside the gate. Inside the compound, it became clear that the "congregation" had started the service without us! At the door of the classroom, David motioned for us to follow him through the crowd of singing students to the front bench, the only empty one in the room. Although the song was in Swahili, we clapped and danced with them, joining in the spirit if not in the language.

We'd heard that the services at the high schools were full of life, but the students at St. Valentine's Mixed Secondary School exceeded our expectations. Two young men were at the front of the crowded room, leading out in song and dance in the call-and-response style. Another student laid down the beat on a goatskin drum in the corner. Had you peeked into the room, you never would have guessed that the students had been herded to the service by the headmaster! (David, one of the Scott Theological College students assigned to this high school, told us that since STC started sending students to run the service, the headmaster believes that he's observed a positive change in the students. Therefore, even though it's not a Christian school, he forces everyone to attend.)

When they were finished singing, another student came to the front and called various individuals up to the front for "presentations."
Students came up and sang songs or read Scripture for the group. The songs (which were in the hip-hop/R&B style mixed with African church music) were met with wild applause from classmates.

Presentations by the students were followed by presentations from the visitors. Each of us stood, introduced ourselves, and took a few minutes to encourage the students from a passage from the Bible. I spoke from Hebrews 11:6: "But without faith, it is impossible to please God, for the person who comes to God must believe that He exists, and that He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him." I challenged the students to seek to know God above all else, because when we make Him our goal and our treasure, He does reward us. I don't know how well the students understood my English, but they were responsive and quite welcoming.

The best part of this trip has been connecting with other believers here -- the ABO orientees, and the Kenyan believers. Our lives are so different (most of my life in the States is inexplicable to the high school students I talked with today), but we share the same God and the same Bible. The seminary students here at Scott are particularly noteworthy. Their passion for Christ and love for others is contagious!

Tuk-tuks, Boda-bodas, and Piki-pikis (or, On The Road Again)

Two weeks from Thursday, I will be back in the United States. After five weeks in Africa, I think one of the strangest things about coming home will be having my own car all to myself again. I've missed it occasionally (mostly when I've craved solitude), but mostly, I've enjoyed trying new forms of transportation here. Here's my basic African transportation primer (for further, more official information, see Wikipedia -- I tried to include links to pictures, but couldn't do it):

The Matatu
My Kenyan friends and I took a few matatus (small buses) when I was in Nairobi. According to Kenyan regulations, all matatus should be painted white and comply with the set passenger quotas. Some do; however, there's also a large fleet of matatus run by young men who use theirs as a form of self-expression. I rode in one which was painted bright purple on the outside, plastered with the likes of Foxy Brown and Jay-Z on the inside, pounding with rap music (the sound system must have been monstrous), swerving in and out of traffic as it hawked more customers, and filled with the lovely fragrance of diesel exhaust (cough). Good times.

The Tuk-tuk
A tuk-tuk is what you would get if you crossed a scooter and an old VW Bug. Last Thursday, after shopping in the open-air market in Machakos, my roommates and I paid 20 shillings each to squeeze into a tuk-tuk on our way back to the college. We had six people in ours, which seemed to be a strain on both the engine and the frame, but it made the driver quite happy to have acquired so many passengers.

The Boda-boda
Yesterday Sarah and I persuaded Viola to join us for another trip into Machakos, this time on the backs of boda-bodas (bicycle taxis). For twenty shillings each, we perched sidesaddle on padded platforms behind our lean, tooth-challenged "drivers." Turned out to be easier than it looked, even in a skirt (we decided that if everyone else can do it in a skirt, so could we). I even got out my camera and took a short, very bumpy video.

Some of the missionaries love the boda-bodas because you can talk with the drivers as you ride; others dislike them for the same reason. Last week, a boda-boda guy proposed to one of our British girls after bringing her back from town, telling her, "I'd really like an English wife." When she explained that in her country, people don't get married unless they are in love with each other, he countered, "But I do love you!" Mine was silent; he must already have a wife.

The Piki-Piki
After shopping and enjoying samosas in Machakos, the girls persuaded me to add another form of transportation to my list of new experiences: the piki-piki, or motorbike. We dug deep and paid fifty shillings each to again sit sidesaddle, only this time behind a helmeted driver who wore boots instead of flip-flops and revved his engine instead of ringing a bell. I climbed up first, grabbed the small handle at the back, and away we went...through an alley, not to be followed by either of my friends! Shortly, however, we came out on a road I recognized, and fell into line with the other two piki-pikis. My driver had simply taken a shortcut. Whew.

African Signage

A few of my recent favorites (I'm really sorry I wasn't able to upload the photos):

Please do not wash your shoes in the sink.

- in the women's bathroom at a church in Nairobi.

Notice:
Please do not misuse the toilet paper.
Pocketing toilet paper is STEALING.

- on the bathroom door in the T-Tot Hotel in Machakos. (I admit that I rejoice whenever I find toilet paper in an African bathroom, but not so I could STEAL it!)

J. K. STORES BOOKSHOP
We sell cows

-This is a huge sign above a store in Machakos. Considering that you can buy a refrigerator, underwear, a charcoal iron, luggage, and furniture at the grocery store, I wouldn't be surprised if you could buy a cow at the bookstore.