So worth it.

I am a teacher. I used to teach in America, and I absolutely loved it. I now teach on the other side of the world, and I still absolutely love it. There’s something about helping people understand things that excites me. I love watching and experiencing growth.

Teaching here is ... different. I’m not quite as crazy in the classroom, and I don’t have to worry about checking dress code. I’m limited in my resources, and we never leave the classroom (as opposed to going to the library or outside or to the gym). I don’t have to make sure that my students have all eaten breakfast or break up fights in the hallway. Some things are the same, though. My students here also struggle with grammar and spelling. They look for encouragement and approval, and they get embarrassed when they don’t know the answer. They’re fragile and timid, but when they “get” a new concept, their smiles fill the room.

For the time being, all of my students are grown men. I have a small class - only five attendees. I have to be very careful of my conduct and how I present myself - absolutely no physical contact, avoid eye contact, no loud laughter or big movements, wisdom when asking them to interact with me. Coming from a loud and enthusiastic 6th grade classroom, this has been somewhat of a challenge. Sometimes I wonder whether my students here understand that I care about them and want them to succeed. Not only is there a language and cultural barrier, but because of the gender difference I’m limited in how I can express my care and concern. Are my efforts worth it at all?

Something happened last week that confirmed that it is, indeed, worth it. One of my students had missed a class, and so that night I stayed late for a few minutes with him to make sure he was understanding what he missed. As he walked towards the door, he said, “Thank you teacher......and sister.” My heart SOARED. He got it. He understood that I’m not some crazy single foreign woman doing who-knows-what in this city. I care and I’m trying so hard to love these men and women as my brothers and sisters. He got it. That one word, uttered almost so softly that I couldn’t hear it, meant more to me than any amount of fresh flowers or thank you cards. To know that my students are understanding my desire to be their teacher, friend, and sister, is so encouraging ... as is knowing that at least one feels the same way.