Some Blood. Mostly Sweat and Tears.

Sometimes all you need is someone to truthfully look you right in the eyes, straight down to your soul, and say that they believe in you.

We are currently learning the books of the Bible in class. Each week I have assigned the students ten new books to memorize along with their weekly memory verse. In order to mildly shake up our somewhat monotonous routine, this week I wrote the new ten books onto the whiteboard in cursive. Every so often I have brought out handwriting worksheets to let the kids practice and they usually want to kill me for doing so; they think writing anything in English is already hard enough. However, I typically choose to counteract their complaints by explaining to them that learning new things may be challenging, but inevitably good for them.

One of my 4^th grade boys was almost in tears today as he looked up at my cursive handwriting on the whiteboard. “Cha, it is easy for you and very difficult for me!” he yelled out in desperation, hoping that I would change my mind over this assignment. The poor boy looked so hopelessly hopeless. I could not help but chuckle inside over his seemingly unnecessary tears, not to be condescending, but only because I know that he has some of the most beautiful handwriting in the class.

I knew he would continue to complain if I just ignored his appeals. So, I then got down to his level, kneeling down in front of his desk. I looked right into his teary, brown eyes and said, “You can do this, I know you can.” He quickly pleaded, “No Cha, I cannot at all!” I made a face of disbelief at him, and I think he understood that I was not going to change the assignment for him. I asked again, still kneeling down in front of him, to please try. I stayed there for a few minutes at his desk until he finally put his pencil to the paper and slowly wrote out….E….s….t…h….e….r. In between each letter he would look up at me; I am still really not sure as to why he did this other than to feel my support. He finished the last loop on the “r” and I gave him the biggest smile I could and said one word: perfect. He all of a sudden lit up with confidence; his previous tears now made his eyes sparkle.  “See, I knew you could do it,” I said.

I walked away from Serey Reach’s desk and watched him from mine as he quickly finished his assignment close to perfection. This was such a simple moment, and yet it burned so deep into my heart. I could not help but see myself in my student. So many times throughout the past five months I have found myself in tears, screaming and pleading for an easier assignment. I picture God up there, chuckling inside over MY seemingly unnecessary tears, not to be condescending, but because He knows I can do it. Just like my student, I am constantly in search and search and search for affirmation from every direction…and maybe that is selfish of me…but maybe it is also just human.

It is hard being here, I struggle…but today someone truthfully looked right into MY teary, brown eyes, straight into my soul, and said that they believed in me…and I felt like that was enough to let me know that God is not leaving me out to dry here in stifling Cambodia. He’s working away; He’s working through Alex’s and my own literal blood, sweat, and tears and in the end I’m thankful for my assignment because after all, learning and experiencing new things may be challenging but it is inevitably good for me.

For those of you who actually read this, I just want to say thank you. Thank you for your prayers and support because those things are what keep us going.

Much love from Cambodia.

-Amber

Survival 2.0

A couples months ago, when I was asked if I wanted to go on senior survival with this year's senior class, I just wanted to say no. “I’m surviving already,” I thought to myself, at the time, “I don’t need to add bucket showers, dirt and the outdoors to it.” Though despite my hesitation, I said yes. This week, instead of putting on my teacher clothes, I packed up the backpack and headed out into the woods with 15 CAS seniors, Amber, and two other teachers. I don’t teach the 12^th graders any classes, so the stress of learning their names alone was increasing my heart rate.

            We loaded on up and headed out to Jombok Hoas (pronounced in English Jimbok Hall) at an early 7 am on a Monday morning that was, for the rest of the school, a holiday. The week previous I had been fighting a monster of a cold, that had only got worse over the weekend, and the last place I wanted to be was sitting in a bus full of loud high school seniors yelling, laughing, screaming, and singing for four+ hours.

            Upon our arrival, I was pleasantly surprised to see that this senior “survival” was much less survival like than my own senior survival. We had a cabin to sleep in and staff cooking the food for us.

            The next morning started off the games and activities. We did a variety of activities including walking down a hill all while balancing on a wire, zip lining, and did other team building games. The last activity of that day was the giant swing. Having been on the giant swing at MiVoden multiple times, I decided I was done putting my trust in equipment that looked at little too sketchy and I was going to sit this one out.

That day the kids had been learning about different principles that they needed to use while doing their activities, as well principles they could apply to every day life. These principles included “Look and listen carefully,” “I can do it,” and four others. As the last student got on the giant swing, Amber and I started getting harnesses thrown towards us and a lot of “Teacher, you’re next!” We told them that we had done this in America and one of the kids looked at us and said, “Teacher. Don’t sit, get involved.” That was another principle. With those four words, we let our students hall us to the very top of the swing (twice as I as MiVoden’s giant swing), and watch us fly through the air.

The third day brought it’s own set of adventures and challenges. I had heard that the third day involved “big things,” but had no idea what “big things” actually meant. After two short games, we were lead through the woods to a tree that towered high above the rest. From there we were supposed to climb up a sketchy ladder and then repel down the side of the tree. Having to climb up or down a ladder is one of my greatest fears. Silly, I know. I was one of the last to go, and I slowly made my way up the ladder with Amber right on my heels. I was a little more than a little scared. Eventually it was my turn, and I started to lower myself down. The gloves I was wearing were too big, and I couldn’t get my hand in a good position to hold the rope tight enough to stop myself. Though I wasn’t moving fast, I wasn’t stopping, and instead of pushing off the tree, I was going straight down. The fact that I couldn’t grip the rope well enough to stop freaked me out. I don’t think I’ve ever been more scared in my entire life. The Leap of Faith was next (this also twice as high as the one at MiVoden). After just being thoroughly scared to death, I decided I was done with high trees that involved ladders and high platforms. Yet, once again, my students convinced me to go.

That night, the last night, we had some good ole’ classic fun scaring the boys in the forest and attempting an all nighter that lasted only to the first few hours of the morning. Of all the weeks I have had in Cambodia, I have to say this week was one of my favorites. Fifteen high school seniors can really teach you a thing or two. Without them pushing me, I would never have repelled down that tree or jumped for the handle that high in the leap of faith. Not knowing the students made the experience, for me, even greater. I had no idea what to expect from them. I thought learning their names in four days wasn’t even going to happen, but I learned so much more. The kids constantly had me laughing and kept me laughing the entire time we were there. They were supportive of each other and of us teachers. Watching them push themselves made me want to push myself as well.

Being on senior survival, I couldn’t help but think of my own class and my senior survival. It feels like so long ago, yet seeing my students do some of the exact same activities we did makes me feel like it was yesterday. It’s shocking how much life can change in 2 ½ years.

I never thought that getting out into the woods with a group of students I didn’t know would help remind me why I’m in Cambodia. It did, however, do just that. The moments I didn’t want to do something I had to keep reminding myself that I was, I am, here for the students. Though I am here for the students, I can’t even begin to explain the impact they are having on me, which could quite possibly be even greater than the impact I am having on them.

-Alex