Nepal Trip Post #3

I cannot seem to find the right words to start this. I know what I want to write about to envelop what can be said about this place, but something stops me from being able to untangle all the thoughts in my mind. Perhaps this inexplicable quality itself can properly represent Nepal. I have not understood much for this time, but what I do understand has made amazingly perfect sense.

                A few days ago on a home visit, a girl told me her favorite thing about living in Bhaktapur was the sense of family and unity between everyone here. If said about any other place, I would have dismissed such a common cliché. Even to someone who is slightly familiar with the city, this may have seemed crazy. Bhaktapur, like most cities, seems overcrowded, confused, and never resting. To claim that so many people, so busy, could possibly be anything like connected is a bold accusation. However, I know now that this city is the only one that deserves such an acclaim. Throughout all our time here, I have not seen an ounce of violence, conflict, or any sort of malicious happenings. Instead, everyone here greets everyone, helps everyone, and shares life with everyone. Teamwork and cooperation are not options because no alternatives even exist.

                What I have to thank for this is unclear, but I do know one thing: I have never seen a people so united by religion. At home, religion has become a topic of conflict, unease, and even hatred; no one trusts anyone if they different in beliefs. Here, this could not be more the opposite. Ironically enough, in Nepal, having a mixture of different religious thinking is not only accepted, it’s commonplace. More often than not, a person in Nepal will tell you they are Hindu, but practice Buddhism as well, or vice versa. Everyone prays together. Everyone celebrates together. Everyone is connected through common belief that whatever they believe is best for the world.

                That being said, I am still awestruck by the way that religion manifests itself here. The temples and shrines—many of which we have had the privilege of visiting recently—are so intricate and detailed and cared for; in terms of religion, I don’t even know what I don’t know, but I can tell you that the air surrounding sacred places here is enough to make me feel something. It gave me chills to admire the pristine white temple displaying the engraved story of a Hindu goddess, but it also comforted me. There is simply something that calms me about being in a place that people so deeply trust and put their faith in. Nevertheless, in Bhaktapur, this feeling is not just in the temples, it is the city itself. Walking down the streets, I feel the city itself sigh with love for its people, and I see the people care for it more than someone cares for only a home.

                Nepal has me perplexed. But, I trust that the connections I have made here need no explanation to me and are difficult for others to comprehend. The students, I care for them and wish them all the fortune in the world. I feel that I have now a greater understanding of life, as cheesy as that sounds, having met them. The people and land here will never be forgotten nor will they ever leave my heart.

Nepal Trip Post #2

Having a bad day at school stinks. Having a bad day of teaching really stinks. Up to this point in life, I feel as if I have matured to a certain extent in accepting personal failure. The reason that I know this being I have competed in a lot of karate tournaments over the past year, and admittedly, I lost. A lot. If I were to let myself become dreadfully disappointed in every loss, I certainly would not have had the heart to continue. That being said, I have grown to accept a new lens when observing my losses. I purely look for progress. I strive not for medals, but for the feeling that I was better today than yesterday, and I try to adapt this standard in all things I do in life.

                By those standards, Monday was an ugly, obnoxious, utter disappointment. The common themes for the day, sponsored by yours truly, included disorganization, confusion, and miscommunication. In several lessons, it felt as if every minute of my experience leading up to this trip packed up and left town. In my math lesson, for example, I was uncontrollably flustered and fidgety and skittish; not a good combination when you’re trying to teach any singular person any singular thing, much less with many singular persons and many singular things. None of the words that came out of my mouth took root in any student’s mind. And, though it may not seem so big a deal, I never had the time to do any sort of game or activity at the end. They missed a chance – and they don’t get many – to actually have fun while learning something, and I missed the chance to have fun with them. Most importantly, I broke a promise. I told them that the lesson would be fun and interesting. I also broke a promise to everyone around me that I would be my absolute best, a promise that I have been trusted to keep. I failed to make progress. The realization of this was overwhelmingly disappointing for me. As I have learned in life, however, sulking only does so much good for so long. The only path for me now lies clear and bright in front of me, rather than behind.

                Thankfully, the universe has sent me plenty of good to counter the not so good. Earlier this week, we introduced a week-long, school-wide project that concerns a topic that Nepal struggles with severely. Similar to most cities developing nations, the streets of Bhaktapur are horribly polluted. The comparison to many American towns and cities is indescribable. The underlying cause is not as obvious as many may think. No, the people of Nepal do not care less about their environment than Americans do. Nobody has taught them what to do to fix the problem of pollution. This is the reason why two classes of the day for each grade have been replaced with a class about environmental health. More specifically, we have been teaching students about reusing, recycling, and composting; topics that we have been told as common knowledge but have never been taught to these kids. Since the day that we taught our lessons, we introduced the project. The task is to come up with a solution to the lack of reusing, recycling, or composting in the community. By next Sunday, they will have finished projects to be judged by their class teacher and then by the principal of Lisha School and the CGA leaders. The class winners and overall winners will receive large prizes and may get help in putting their plans into action.

In my opinion, the best part of this project is tapping into the creativity of these students who, in the pursuit of learning, have been trained to read and memorize only what the book dictates. On the very first day, I was clear through the blank expressions and silent answers that thinking outside of the box was not common curriculum. Many students here have grand ambitions; most have told me that imagine themselves as doctors, engineers, or other professionals of the sort in the future. While I am proud of their hope, I still frown because it is difficult to see an engineer who is unable to try a new design or a doctor afraid to look for new answers. But I know that their imagination is not yet dead. It slowly began to crawl out of hiding when they were told to come up with any solution that they want to help their community. The ideas that are sprung when you tell them to just think for themselves are astounding. I saw plans I would never have thought of in a million years, and the eagerness that the kids have to put their thoughts into actions fills me with not just immense pride, but admiration as well. It is here that I am reminded of one of the great foundations of what CGA does. We have the resources to help students achieve new tasks, the will to push them beyond their imaginable limits, and, above all else, the insistence on showing them their own tremendous ability. I believe it goes without saying that I am excited about this project.

Never before have other people made me feel as deep feelings as I do on these trips. These kids have the unique talent of breaking my heart into a million pieces and also to melt my heart until it melts. And I wish, more than I wish for many things in my life, that the feeling I leave with them is a worthy one.

Nepal Trip Post #1

My expectations never warn me about color, but my memory is always eager to show it to me. Arriving in Kathmandu, I was not so awed by the mountains or forests or cars or anything else I expected. Instead, my eyes were held captive by every glimpse of color that winked at them. The red brick buildings, the blue sign or awning of a passing shop, and the dark brown wood skeleton of a once living, not yet crumbled house. I didn’t expect the colors to interest me so much, but they did because I remembered them. I remember the colors from Nicaragua, Cambodia, and Tanzania, and I remember how they manifested in the same form: the vibrant life of an impoverished city. I believe that people back at home, sometimes including myself unfortunately, often hear poverty and think of a dull, dreary existence, and yet that is never the case. On the surface, yes, many of these people live with very few material things to call their own, and nearly none of the luxuries we enjoy. In 2015, the universe decided to take more from the people of Nepal. No one talks about it, there are no signs advertising rebuilding and restoration plans, but everywhere, there are crumbled streets and crumbled homes. Despite all this, it is always the color that reminds me that though it may be a hard life, it is still life. Everyone everywhere is moving, selling, buying, and building. Here, life must go on, and the Nepali people have no choice but to live life.

As I sat in the Class 7 room – a bare cement, 250 square-foot room with one whiteboard – observing the lesson on the first day, I wrote one phrase in my notebook next to my notes. I told myself, rather I begged of myself, “Don’t forget this feeling.” For a small, wonderful time, I only stared and grinned as I watched the students so intent on learning what they could about health, of all subjects. I smiled because I could not contain a fierce excitement within me. I simply wanted to teach. Where this came from, I am not sure. I remember being in the classes in Tanzania, terrified beyond belief. Certainly, this was a change for the better, and I intend to use it. I feel my teaching has improved drastically from my last trip to this one. Nevertheless, I have yet to be satisfied with my teaching. From what I see of myself and what I have been told. I have much to work on. These faults are and will constantly be one of my top priorities because my students rely on me getting better and because I know I can do it. I was reminded at some point of a proverb that many teachers know that goes back ages and ages, and is one of the foundations of education: teaching is hard stuff. That’s right, contrary to popular teenage belief, teaching requires time and effort in preparation. Because of this, I know I cannot let myself relax until I know I have over prepared for every lesson, and when I see the results in action.

Finally, and most importantly, I must make an earnest attempt to describe the Nepalese people. I have to say, there is not a single student in the entire school who is not incredibly bright, which is part of the reason why I was so excited to teach. I simply get the feeling that everyone here is very smart, but I only wish I were more persistent and had the knowledge to connect with the people I meet. With the students, I feel I am inching closer to this goal. Just as in Tanzania, I learned here that energy put into the class directly effects the energy you receive. My favorite part of each day is when I get carried away with teaching something, most of the time it is something I dreaded in my own education, seeing the interest and excitement in the eyes of my students, and letting this snowball of excitement carry the time away. Today, one of my favorite games to play was a smiling game. When I had the chance, I just looked at a few students and smiled, and I would soak in the light that radiated from the smiles and laughter I got in return. I feel myself getting sucked in closer and closer to these kids.

So far, Nepal has not failed to show me kindness and eagerness, and I have surprised myself in responding to such an environment. I still have much I want to learn about this place and its people, and I have many improvements to be made in my teaching. All I know is that I want to do better, and I want more.