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.
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