I've been a bit bipolar for the last two and a half weeks. Starting when several good friends came to visit, I realized just how jaded I was getting with the grind. We then moved the party to Atar, where I promptly drained my precious endorphin supply until I was running on fumes, and finally, about a week ago, I returned to Nouadhibou.
Waiting for me were my students' second trimester exams, which only proved that either I'm a shit teacher or I'm teaching to blocks of concrete. It was a real low point, including repeated musings about what the hell exactly I'm doing here. I came knowing it wouldn't be Dangerous Minds, but that didn't really matter. I suppose I was a bit naive to think that even though these kids entered their 4th and 5th years barely able to string together a 4-word sentence (no exaggeration), I could somehow catch them up to the point the syllabus claims they should be at, and continue to aid them in their path towards fluency. Yeah. I know. Duh.
Anyway, I woke up a couple days ago and finally recognized the end of this leg trudging through the slough of despond. Actually, I'm pretty pumped about nothing in specific. And I want to hear from people, so this is a formal call for comments. I'm asking you to roll it out on this one, because otherwise, this is going to seem really, really pathetic. Remind other people. NYC, and specifically Brooklyn, I'm looking in your direction. 'Illadelph and Beantown, I'm looking in your direction. To the people grinding it out in the District's political, law, and liquor store machines, I'm looking in your direction. Chi-town, Bay Area, Portland and L.A., I'm looking in your direction. Paramaribo, London, Lahore, and everywhere in between, this means you. Hell, I don't even have to know you.
It takes about 30 seconds. Want a higher purpose? Consider it an apolitical way to show your support for a generation coming into power during a particularly crappy time in history. Prove the value of fruitless labor for the sake of the Good. Take the soapbox, or just say "yo." And if nothing else, answer the following question: It's 4:00 PM. Do you know where your moms' is at?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
21 comments:
This from the Bay Area:
Dear Nephew,
I really enjoyed the narrative about the Chinese restaurant. Your writing draws me right in. I can visualize you sitting in the establishment with the "antennae up." Many parts of your story could have taken place in parts of San Francisco! One day I should take you on a tour...
Sounds like teaching most of your students is like me getting people to floss daily. Difference is I make a living off people not following recommendations! Anyway hang onto the successes, and don't allow the disappointments to have more significance than their due . I'm certain you are having unexpectedly positive effects on others that you will never know about, and I am so proud of you because you care enough about the rest of the world to place yourself in such an environment in the hope of helping.
At 4:00 Grammy L (Mom to me) was at home with your mom with a big bandage on her hand from the carpal tunnel surgery. She sounds like she is recovering nicely.
Even though there is much sadness in the news, I am glad to be living now rather than at many other times in history. Still,I worry about what all the folks in your corner of the world are going to do as the Sahara continues to advance.
P.S. How many postings will it take to prevent you from looking pathetic?
THOUSANDS OF YEARS BEFORE SIGOURNEY WEAVER...
Hey John
Sorry for the long silence on your blog. I've been thinking about you lately because I have a journalist friend who may be coming to Mauritania later on this year. He wants to write about Islam and democracy and I told him I'd try to hook the two of you up together.
All's fine in Oxford. Lita and I are going back to Canada in May for a friend's wedding, and we'll both be in Africa this summer. I'll be in Nigeria and Ghana and she'll be in Malawi. Although I looked into it, there aren't routings through Mauritania... go figure. I guess it's not a big holiday destination for Nigerians.
I hope the voice recorder is working out -- let us know if you manage to do something interesting with it.
all the best
Geoff.
From Philly,
Chip covered nicely where my Mother was, so I have to find another subject. I so enjoy your writing. I agree with Caroline. Start that book.
The teaching is a part of what you are doing. You are also showing people that Americans are not all BMW driving hedonists or (with reference to the news) all crazies with no regard for the precious nature of life.
By the way what does Bobby's comment mean or is that the point?
We got your e-mail about trying to hook up and are giving it thought. We will get back to you on it soon.
I head off to drawing class soon. I will have to send you an e-mail with an attachment photo of one of my drawings. I love this class. In fact I may put a piece in a show at the art center in May. How's that for daring?
A thought- Is there any way for you to determine if any f your students really want to learn English and then form an English "club" outside class to reach those students? Sounds dorky as I write it, but who knows.
Time for class.
So as you know John, I work for a 9-11 museum in the city, and now am in the process of writing my thesis on none other subject than... yup you guessed it, 9-11. Much like my obsession with the Vietnam War, I have immersed myself in this undertaking and save for Saturdays and Sundays, it's pretty much what I devote my time to (even on the weekends I would like to discuss it, but it really doesn't go well over drinks. Go figure.) Anyway, every other Friday afternoon I meet with my thesis advisor to continually clarify my argument about the institutionalization of the memory of 9-11 (do I sound smart, or just crazy?) These sessions have become less like advising and more like therapy as he is probably the only other person as interested in this stuff as I am, or at least willing to talk to me about it outside of work.
Last week was the first meeting in which I had to hand in some writing. I wasn’t at all happy about what I wrote. Ultimately, I felt like I had chosen a topic that was so multifaceted, complicated, and sensitive that it was easier to rely on cynicism than it was to promote the possibilities of progress that will hopefully come out of it. It was the first time since I was declared “Class Pessimist” senior year of high school that I was so shocked by my own skepticism, especially in regard to a topic that I willingly pursued and felt I could appropriately contribute to in some “scholarly” manner. Well, towards the end of said session my advisor, who is heavily involved in writing about and creating exhibits about tragic/traumatic/difficult histories, gave me some of the best advise a cynic like me could ever get. He said, “Tell yourself that you want to see this succeed.” I know it sounds really simple and the practical response to the negative feelings I had, but it revolutionized the way I was approaching my paper and my job.
So I guess the moral of this story is that I am a cold-hearted, depressed weirdo who likes to pick things apart until they fall apart and complain about it in the process. But thanks for listening to my graduation speech and my apologies to those who actually read this whole response. Keep up the good work. You’re doing something that I wouldn’t have the guts to do.
Katie, I know you will be laughing at my intense comment and I apologize for not including a URL link to pictures of myself and my friends "living it up in the city." I just don't think I have the celebrity qualities they are looking for in Mauritania.
lovely john,
some more bk love for you.
it's not that i haven't been thinking of you/commenting on your previous bl'osts, i just wrote my other comments on paper and floated them down the hudson in a bottle. i thought it would be whimsical but i guess they didn't make it to you. sorry 'bout that.
i'll start with the fact that i miss you sorely, though gchat makes you feel not-so-far away, almost as though you live inside my computer and i yours. think of it that way, it's kind of funny, good for a chuckle, and you can imagine that i'm there with you in mauritania at all times. only as a thumbalina-sized recluse, cloistered inside a dark, electronic world. inaccessible, but still close.
that reminds me of a story that i used to tell my 5-year-old cousin, actually. i used to tell him that a colony of ants lived inside my ponytail and when he would beg to see them and i would look all horrified and tell him that i could never exploit their privacy like that. i think he liked it that way better.
so what i'm saying is, get in touch with your inner child, remix. you're doing awesome work, touching the lives of lucky lil brown babies. babies don't like to leeearn, they like to play and shoot sparkle, sunshine beams into the hearts of thousands via youtube videos on your blog.
i'm no coolio, but you're no michelle pfeiffer. take that for what it is.
<3,
sonal
John,
My car was broken into for the 3rd time in just over a month. Having some experience with break-ins, I left nothing of value in the car and left all the doors open. The criminals shattered one window, stole nothing, then locked all the doors. Hilarious.
The glass is getting repaired as we speak and I am now on a first name basis with the crew at American Auto Glass. They are nice people, they don't charge you tax if you pay cash. That saved me like 30 bucks so far.
With the previous two break-ins, I called the police and filed a police report. This time, I called the Police and asked if they had any "hot leads" (exact quote) on my previous two cases. After I said that, I took part in a battle of sarcasm with the officer over the phone. It went a little something like this..
"Oh yeah, right, we have tons of hot leads on your case"
"Good, how many detectives are working on it?"
"Ohh...5-6 at this point"
"GREAT, you might want to involve narcotics because my they stole my adderall last time"
"Oh, I'll put that into the file"
"Wait, isn't that in the file? I put it in the police report"
"Right right, its in the police report."
Frustrated, I conceded defeat.
"Well, f'it. I guess you have like a million murders to solve so I guess you should be focusing on that"
CLICK.
So, the police have failed me twice, where should I go from here?
"... If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you
can find them, maybe you can hire... The A-Team"
THAT SOUNDS PERFECT. I'd probably have a tough time locating them, so I'm starting my own team to bust these criminals.
However, the friends I keep are not "A" quality, so I'm starting a "C+ish" team.
The C+ish team will start some weekend night after many hours of drinking. I am considering purchasing the following items for the stakeout:
stunguns, ninja boots, missiles, katanas, flash lights, fireworks, grappling hooks, infrared cameras, motion sensitive cameras, attack dogs (to apprehend the criminal), attack bears (in case they climb a fence / mauling), an ounce of headdies, daggers, and timberland boots.
So, I got that going for me, which is nice.
I'll keep you updated on the C+ team. You can join the team if you want. But you gotta be ready to take a bullet, get beat up, or get arrested for investigating my car being broken into. I hope you don't have a problem with that.
MARC CIUCCI
COMMANDER/OVERLORD/DRUG CZAR, C+ TEAM
the scene:
morning circle in kindergarten.
the players:
- harper, a fair skinned, red headed pixie of a five year old girl
- 14 other runny nosed, fidgety, interrupting 5 year olds
- me
harper: miss b, i know what s-e-x is.
me: that's nice harper. who can tell me what day of the week it is today?
harper: but miss b do you know what s-e-x is?
me: yes, harper, i do know what s-e-x is and we can talk about it later but not right now
harper: s-e-x is how two grown-ups, usually mommies and daddies, but not all the time, make babies and it's not appropriate for children.
me: it also means boy or girl. like when your mommy or daddy is filling out an important piece of paper, they have to say if they are male or female. male if they are a boy and female if they are a girl. that's what s-e-x is.
harper: i know, miss b, but that's not what i was talking about.
---
p.s. the word sex was never actually spoken. only spelled
p.p.s i don't know about you, but teaching is a breeze :)
from brooklyn:
still getting text messages about the new york mets. funny thing is now they are actually winning, so my demeanor has improved somewhat since that dark era in my life where i was bombarded by text messages constantly informing me about how much my home team blew.
i've been working on my scrabble game so when i see you next i won't get absolutely dominated. i've started to get better, but by the time you're done there you will have read 6,876 books and watched very little TV. therefore, you're getting smarter while i'm getting dumber. figures.
also, you'll be very happy to know that i am investing serious time into Final Fantasy XII. i have played through about twenty hours of the game. unless you actually want to play the game yourself, i was thinking i could write you a weekly update of tough battles, new enemies, and plot twists. would you enjoy and appreciate such a service?
anyway, we all miss you. i miss you so much that i am going to the video game store today to purchase a copy of tekken 5 to start practicing for your return. I figure a year and a half is about enough time.
talk to you soon man.
What a blatant call for attention. Boo-hoo John, Boo-hoo. So you’re stuck in a desert crap-hole masquerading as a third world country. You wanted a life experience and now you’re stuck with it. So hike up your man-dress (or whatever it is they wear out there) and quit your bitching. I think if the kids aren’t going to learn any English you should teach them some wacky things just for fun. How about telling them day is pronounced douche?? Hopefully you can influence a large portion of the country to respond to foreigners with “Have a nice douche!” in parting. I think that would be an accomplishment that no PC member could ever top.
Ahh Kyle, the trademark "tuff love." I expect no less. Still, you may want to consider the fact that your mindblowingly clever suggestion, used in a French-speaking country, would only drive the children to wish people "to have a nice shower." Which is admittedly slightly awkward, but hardly the effect I think you were looking for.
Oh Mama, I'm in fear for my life from the long arm of the law Law man has put an end to my running and I'm so far from my home The jig is up, the news is out
They finally found me
The renegade who had it made
Retrieved for a bounty
Never more to go astray
This'll be the end today
Of the wanted man
Oh Mama, I've been years on the lam and had a high price on my head
Lawman said 'Get him dead or alive' and it's for sure he'll see me dead
Dear Mama I can hear you cryin', you're so scared and all alone
Hangman is comin' down from the gallows and I don't have very long
The jig is up, the news is out
They finally found me
The renegade who had it made
Retrieved for a bounty
Never more to go astray
The judge'll have revenge today
On the wanted man
Oh Mama, I'm in fear for my life from the long arm of the law
Law man has put an end to my running and I'm so far from my home
The jig is up, the news is out
They finally found me
The renegade who had it made
Retrieved for a bounty
Never more to go astray
This'll be the end today
Of the wanted man
-Isaac
i forgot to add...remember when we ate ice cream over the river in paris.
John,
It is the encounter with YOU that is important, not the English. If ever a student should visit an English land, s/he is much more likely to remember you, and have a warm and wonderful impression of you, than to remember English vocabulary and grammar. What English they do remember will be an asset but not necessarily essential to the experience.
Which I imagine you tell yourself 100 times a minute, stop for a while, and then start all over again.
from Togo...
Walking down the street.
Me: silent stroll
Togolese kid: "Hey Motherfuck fuck!"
Me: stunned stopped dead in my tracks
staring at each other, he waves with a smile, "bon soir le blanc!"
I WILL see you soon, John
Remixalot, illadel sends it hello.
I fell off my bicycle this weekend and did a baseball slide at 20mph down the middle of the road. The left side of my body is a road-rashy mess. it sucks. i strongly reccommend avoiding such situations whenever possible.
Whats the deal with the geolocation game, i have been eagerly waiting its release, and while i may be the only one to participate, i still think it will be entertaining.
I have been doing some volunteer work with inner city kids at work, trying to teach them engineering. these students i imagine are much more capable and educated than those you work with, and yet i find myself getting frustrated rather often. While i have no idea of the magnitude, i sympathise with what you might be feeling.
Dear John,
A projection screen flashing Fergie’s botox addicted lips mouthing G-L-A-M-O-R-ous took up most of the balcony, while my hair took up the other half. The Hotel Victor in South Beach served mojitos including enough alcohol that the Russian character Misha in my current reading selection (Absurdistan) would have appreciated.
I was wearing an American Apparel Dress, skin tight, its hem around my armpits, when I engaged in a battle of “walking it out.” Two men, coincidentally from DC, and I became fast friends as my hair continued to frizz and my dress at this point looked more like a headband it was up my body so high. I slide across the Hotel Victor’s wooden balcony floors in my stilettos soaking in Miami’s amazing temperatures and “anything goes” attitudes-hoping to by accident bump into Dywane Wade or Young Jeezy. All truly was G-L-A-M-O-R-ous, until I asked these new-found friends to teach me how to Crypt walk.
“Gurllll..you want some Blood to shoot us down? You crazy girl! We ain’t showing off that shit!”
Unfortunately, the mojito (the eighth, no, no, tenth of the evening) interfered with an appropriate response on my part. Instead I shouted,
“I want to keep DC black too!”
Silence. Me smiling with my sweaty hair off to the left (I’m growing out my bangs or they would have been curled for sure) so proud that I referenced a t-shirt I have recently noticed appearing in a lot of the MTV jam videos. The silence continued...Then, a tap on my shoulder. The friend we were staying with informed me that my boyfriend was at the bar, with his pants down around his ankles, standing in sushi covered boxers, looking for his favorite waitress to take a picture with. A few short girls with white shorts and gold sequined tops standing around him were laughing and taking pictures while he held up his double fisting coronas and said that he was looking to bang out all of them and that his girlfriend like doing things like that.
So, it was this Spring Break Cancun like misbehavior that saved me from probably the most embarrassing and awkward racial tension moment of my life. I sashayed over to the bar and watched while my boyfriend, introducing me to his fans, then showed me his technique for bowling for the wii spilling beer all over the plush purple sofas and outdoor ferns while he demonstrated. We were kicked out shortly after.
The tab at the end of this evening: $500.00 Although, it would take us two days to remember exactly the name of the hotel, the fact that it was indeed there that we left our credit cards, and the discovery that our tab was so high.
I return to DC with amazing tan lines, no money, an array of photos that I will NEVER post on the internet, and lots of sand still in my pants.
-Katie
P.S. Caroline. Your comment was fabulous. And, now that you have reached 21 albums on facebook, I would say your life is MORE than happily chronicled by photos.
P.P.S. John, the second paragraph of this post reminded me of Ludacris’ “I’ve got hoes…in different area codes….” 20009 will always belong to you.
Annnnd cut! Thanks, Katie, for all that, imagery.
And for the record: Katie, its 'Crip' walk, not 'Crypt' walk. Men don't die on the streets of LA just to go back to their gang leader (after knifing some unsuspecting blood) just toe be called a Crypt.
Just lookin' out...
last as usual....
just wanted to get in on the action, although i don't have the talent nor the energy to match the comments of my predecessors.
i did want to share however that sometimes i wonder if you went to mauritania at all. sometimes i'll pass a guy on the street with a well-worn t-shirt and a few earrings, dark 5 o'clock shadow type. never with a nine year old western sizzler hat that once was red but now is pink, but still, close enough to make me do a double take. sometimes i expect to bump into you on the corner of 16th and R, or maybe in the village, now that I sort of live in NY. and i think to myself that you could totally pull it off. you could announce your departure, hold your going away party, post some pictures and blogs, and totally skip town for two years. it might even make for an interesting book: Lessons in Writing a Fake Memoir. i don't doubt that you went. i just wonder sometimes if maybe you didnt. maybe its wishful thinking. anyway. this is kind of a useless contribution to your blog. but i just wanted to say hi.
Post a Comment