Waking Up in Cambodia

            And so begins week three of teaching the young-ins. It is barely past seven o’clock in the morning and already I am finding myself wiping the sweat from my forehead in between giving morning worship to my students. I am having the most difficult time fathoming how Cambodia could possibly become any more sweltering and humid than it has already proven itself to be. Still, all of the locals assure me that we are currently in “cold” rainy-season.  I believe it sure as ever seems as though Cambodia is as close to hell-hot as it can get, as it is already hard enough to breathe here….but maybe I am just still in denial.
              Today, I must admit that walking out of our apartment and coming to school took more than a stretch of my efforts and beyond the normal “we’ve got this” pep-talk from Alex. Don’t take me wrong, my students have already stolen my heart and I love them to pieces. I just suppose a whole part of me is still “at home” in any desire to find comfort, whereas I know that I should be wholly here.

In the beginning I comprehended the necessity of being present…here, where I physically was, not wherever my head was. I understood that it was going to be more than vital to completely and wholeheartedly throw every ounce of myself into this experience and for the most part I have attempted to do just as so, but I would be lying if I said that being here, any part of me being here, was easy. By no strains of the imagination is this easy. Nonetheless it is exactly what I signed up for.

            Waking up in Cambodia is hard. Leaving my unconscious “reality” and being hit hard by the actual reality that is around me every morning usually shakes me up more than not. The alarm alone is enough to shake up my world, then in addition so quickly more “abnormalities” come flying in every direction. Oh yeah, there’s the wild pack of dogs again that always seem to be fighting outside our window…oh right, every morning without fail I WILL wake up sticky and miserably hot, mhhmm, five o’clock in the morning really IS the middle of the night, I cannot even see my hand in front of my face….and the hardest morning realization of them all…I am quite literally a world away from anything that is comfortable to me.
              Inevitably I will allow these thoughts to overflow my mind state until the second “snooze alarm” hits me like a brick wall. Amber, you can do this. I am not completely positive how or where these words come to me each and every morning, but they do without fail. It is possible that my subconscious is doing anything it can to save me from what my unconscious mind could feasibly do…but I would like to believe that these words are from something greater than that. I would really like to believe that this is an example of God carrying me through this. I’d like to believe that He’s right there every morning without fail, flashing each of my students’ faces in my mind, reminding me to not only finish what I have started, but to master it.

              I do, with absolute confidence, know that this year abroad as a student missionary would be a thousand and a half times harder if I did not believe that God was here carrying me through each moment of every day. For that alone I am appreciative; I know that if I tried to accomplish this year on my own, it would be near impossible. It honestly is the craziest feeling, to know and feel Him working through me and the people around me. I am so blessed to have a God that cares about me.

               And so, as I sit here wiping the sweat from my forehead, my prayer is that I never forget why I am here, in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, how thankful I am that I will never have to do this alone, and that I always remember this experience is so..SO very much greater than a few pictures on facebook ..or a couple of check marks off of my bucket list; this experience is so far beyond my own self.

-amber

One down

Stuffing my suitcases to 49.5 pounds, Walmart and Target runs for the last minute "necessities," and saying my last goodbyes. All this was a month ago. Tomorrow will be one month since I tried to hold back tears saying goodbye to my sister, mom, and dad at the airport. It's been a month now since I've seen my friends, those who I spent 90% of my waking moments with or talking to. It's hard to believe that it's been almost a month since I stepped off the plane for the first time in Cambodia, looked at the girl I was going to be spending the next 9 months of my life with and said, in reference to the ridiculous 10:30 pm heat, "I'm going to die."

In this last month, I've already began to change. I'm starting to relax a lot more and be more spontaneous. This last weekend, we took a trip to Sihanoukville, or locally known as Kompong Som, the beach town here in Cambodia, about 4 hours away from Phnom Penh. We were planning on coming back from our long weekend vacation Monday afternoon, but around 4:30 Sunday evening, we decided we wanted to go back to Phnom Penh. We had thirty minutes to check out of our hotel and one hour to be sitting on a bus that we weren't sure even had room for us. We made it, barely, the whole time praying that we would get on the bus and get home safely. A month ago, I would never had changed my plans so drastically, so last minute. 

Twenty-three ESL kids, nineteen Pre-Algebra kids, and seventeen Algebra 1 kids are now my life. I said after my first day of observing that these kids were going to get me through the next nine months. No matter how tired I get of asking them to quit talking or to sit down, it is still true. Victory dances from my students after receiving 100% on tests and teaching me how to count to 5 in Khmer or sing the Cambodian national anthem, Amber, and clinging to God's promise to always be there and never leave me are what get me out of bed every morning and give me the energy to keep going. Some days seem to never end, while others are easier, but when I signed up to be a Student Missionary, I knew it wasn't going to be easy. 

Month 1 is wrapping up. Here's to 8 more!

-Alex

Skin.

Skin.

I have still yet to experience a day in Cambodia without my flesh being touched, examined, and questioned about.  In the States I am the tan friend, more than not the VERY tan friend. In Cambodia, on quite literally a day-to-day basis, I am discussed and reviewed as the “white girl” or as one of the “white teachers". I have been on a handful of trips outside of my country, but never has my skin been as conversed about as it has been here. If anything I figured I would blend in with this culture considering my nationality, but that’s not really the case at all.             
Originally I had found the whole “white girl” referencing to be rather hilarious solely because it was so different from what the norm is for me…but the longer I am here, receiving looks from everyone, and the more I am exposed to exchanges regarding skin color the more and more nauseous I become. 
 Yesterday in the classroom I about fell off of my seat from having a conversation with a couple of my ordinarily sweet and darling third graders. “Tee-Cha, you are beautiful because your skin is white, she (then talking about her best friend standing right next to her) is VERY ugly Tee-Cha, because her skin is black!!”My jaw dropped. I could not believe the words that had come out of this little girl. The demeanor of each of these two girls drastically changed in a matter of seconds, the typically sweet girl had become brutally nasty, and it especially changed in the one who had just been humiliated by her best friend. 

I was incredibly shocked and exceptionally upset over what had just happened.  Throughout the past few weeks I’ve been exposed to many uncomfortable things, MANY, but for some reason this was by far the most uncomfortable and upsetting situation I have come across....and it was between two of my most well behaved students. 

Immediately I told both of my students that they were beautiful, not just that, but also that in America their tanned skin would be highly desired. When I reference anything about America all of my students eavesdrop and put a halt to everything else they are doing because America is so highly esteemed to them. It is almost sickening. 

Soon after they ALL began asking what seemed like a million questions per minute. “Tee-Cha, WHY would anyone want to be dark?” “Tee-Cha, doesn’t being white mean you are rich?” “Tee-Cha, why can’t we look like an American?” “Tee-Cha, why do white skinned people have freckles? Why can’t we have freckles?” “Tee-Cha, why can’t we be beautiful like them.” I would solve some, ignore some, and try to come up with any possible affirmative answers I could to these kids about something so simple and yet so imperative: skin.                 
I was so frustrated, almost angry at the entire situation. I told them how sick it made me that they did not see the beauty that they ALL have and I am quite positive that by simply looking at my face the students comprehended how disappointed and disgusted I was about the discussion we were having. They slowly started to back off with the questions and began their schoolwork again. 
  I was not and am not angry with my kids. I was however, and am troubled with how revolting this world can be. It was not my students’ fault for believing that white skin is beautiful, just as we typically as Americans believe tanned skin is the most preferable. We've all been programmed throughout our lives to be insecure with our natural selves, and to desire something that we naturally lack, even if that something is ridiculously unnecessary. These kids have clearly been taught and trained to believe that whiter skin equals a higher status in society, and although some students' feelings were hurt it has been shown acceptable to say things as such, here in Cambodia. 

Although I would have rather have had this discussion come up on different terms…in the end the students came up with the conclusion that sometimes it is truly hard to be thankful with what we have been given but that we should be, as well as the importance of the need to appreciate our bodies, no matter the color of our skin. 
I somewhat naively want to believe that they absorbed AND considered at least something from our discussion that we had yesterday….. I hope to God they did…and if that is not the case I hope to God I was competent enough to learn something from my students. They are not the only ones to too quickly misjudge their significance, based on such a minor thing as skin or exterior appearance; I can absolutely consider myself guilty of that same fault….. because of this, I am absolutely going to try put effort into being more appreciative of the self that God has given me, many flaws included. 

          In conclusion, ALL I want is for these kids to realize their worth. ALL I want is for these kids to realize how beautifully significant they are. Especially to me. 

-Amber

Let Go and Explore

It's taken two weeks. Two weeks to step outside of our front door and go somewhere in this city we're supposed to be calling home for the next 9 months. We take the same route to CAS and back everyday, and that's it. We were standing outside one night last week, watching the rain, letting the apartment air out after I burned a batch of popcorn, and I was trying to put into words how I felt about getting out and exploring. Normally, I'm the first one to jump on exploring and getting out into a new city. My adventurous side has even got me in quite a bit of trouble in other SE Asian cities in the past. Cambodia, however, has been completely different. It wasn't the fact that I didn't feel safe, which would be a huge factor to many to not go explore. Not feeling the safest usually makes me feel even more adventurous. Cambodia is different because I don't have to jam everything I want to see in a few days, or even a few weeks, but instead, I have nine months to do what I want. I'm not quite sure how I feel about that yet. Leaving our apartment and exploring, in my head, was when I was really going to have to let go and realize that I'm not in America and am not going to be any time soon. I kept thinking to myself "I don't think I'm ready to let that go."

For the past week, we'd been talking about walking to the nearby coffee shop/restaurant called The Shop, and everyday, we decided not to go. Friday eventually rolled around and school let out at noon. Friday night marked two weeks of being here in Cambodia, and we decided it was time to get out. We ate lunch at the school, rode our bikes home, and started walking to The Shop. It was weird to be on foot, walking the street we usually fly down on our bikes, and having more time to take in the sights and smells we ride through everyday. I don't think I'm ever going to get used to those smells. After only driving past The Shop once on one of our first days here two weeks ago, I was rather proud of myself when we found it just in the location I had hoped, and prayed, it would be. We got inside and the smell of coffee instantly hit us. We walked in to the air conditioned section of the restaurant and sat down on this big comfy couch and enjoyed the cold water and free wifi. As I looked around, I realized we were not the only white people eating there. Even more to my surprise, the majority of people there were white! American, Australian and British accents filled the room. Not something you hear everyday in Cambodia, that's for sure. The passion fruit and pineapple smoothie I got was wonderful and we ordered a margarita pizza with pesto and mozzarella that we took to go and ate for dinner. The Shop is no more than a mile from our apartment, if that, and we will be spending quite a bit of time there I'm sure in the weeks and months to come.

Today was the day we'd been planning on to really get out. Faye and Ruth, the mission president's wife, drove us to a grocery store deeper in Phnom Penh that we hadn't been to yet, pointed out our location on the map, explained the streets, took our groceries for us and then showed us where we'd want to spend the rest of the day. We were dropped off at Wat Phnom, the place the city is named after and just like that, we were on our own, and a long way from home. We spent the next hour and a half or so wondering around the monument and the temple, taking pictures, and looking more like tourists than we have so far this trip. Almost getting lost wondering the streets, we found the Central Market and the mall Serya (a small Cambodia version of Bangkok's MBK). The AC in the mall was a huge relief and we got bubble tea, frozen yogurt, and water. Realizing we were actually hungry, we went to the Pizza Company for lunch and got seated right next to the window, 8 floors above the street with a fantastic view of Phnom Penh. We did some shopping and tried to get as good of a bargain as we could at the Central Market. I got a pair of pants and, my two favorites, a shirt that says "No Tuk Tuk Today" and a "Same Same But Different" shirt. Score! One of the first tuk tuk drivers to come up to us as we were heading out knew the part of town where the mission is and offered us a fair price, which doesn't happen very often. We hopped in and hoped he knew what he was talking about. I started noticing monuments and other landmarks we had passed earlier that morning, much to my relief. We successfully pointed the driver in the right direction through Toul Kork (our part of town) and got home in one piece, even high fived once we got through the gate!

Getting out and into Phnom Penh did give me somewhat of a reality check, but also made me realize that I need to be my normal self and get out and explore if I want to survive and enjoy the upcoming months. Week three is here and it's time to let go of America, and instead, embrace and explore Cambodia.

-Alex

We're Eating Well

Alex and I bake for the first time.

Mom Knows Best

           Literal equations and exponential functions…blah blah…distributive property blah.

A week of school has gone by, and I personally believe the greatest part about that fact is having one week of teaching high-school math out of the way! Each day the fifth period bell rings sending my heart on quite the marathon.

            High-school math, not too long ago, intimated me by quite a great deal, let alone the thought of TEACHING high-school math. I suppose that once upon a time I could have promoted arithmetic as my thing, my shining factor, my prime attribute. However, grade school has come and gone…and sadly my mathematic skills have gone along. They are unquestionably not brag worthy.

This week proved that fact. I had made it to Thursday complete with pretty smooth sailing along the way, teaching directly out of my special Teacher’s Edition book (which pretty much breaks down entire equations for the reader), and was finally feeling rather confident standing in front of the high-school classroom. I was even cracking jokes here and there, twirling the marker around in my fingers, Eh this is gonna be a piece of cake..I thought…..and then I was put in my place.

A small 10^th grader made her way to the front of the classroom, tapped me on the shoulder, and quietly pointed out a mistake I had made on the whiteboard. OF COURSE I thought. I quickly fixed the problem on the board and informed the students that I must have been checked out or something to make such a silly slip-up. None of them said anything, just smiled and quickly fixed the equation on each of their papers.

Not more than ten minutes went by and again, the same tiny girl came up and tapped me on the shoulder. “Tee-Cha…this answer can actually be reduced further….” At this point I HAD to laugh it off, “Okay, okay, I CLEARLY need to have help up here more often..” I don’t tend to get embarrassed too easily and in this situation that trait definitely came to aid in my favor. I found the whole situation quite comical and very much to my preference my students did too.

Okay, okay..this story isn’t too sidesplitting until you realize the factors lying behind it. My student’s name, the little 10^th grade student that put me in my place, is Mom. Her first name is MOM. Every time I hear other kids calling out her name or grade one of her papers I just get such a kick out of it. I cannot get over it! I want a friend named Mom!!   “And yet AGAIN class, we can realize that Mom’s are always a good thing to keep around!!” I think some of them fell out of their chair from laughing so hard, or maybe it just felt that way to me ;)

They must think I’m an idiot. We still have fun however and TRY to learn..well whenever possible. Even if my students did not absorb much of anything from me about calculations on Thursday, they and myself too were reminded that Mom’s always know best!!

-Amber

A lot of people have been asking for our address so here it is!

P.O. Box 488
Phnom Penh, Cambodia

First Time Teacher

I slept the best I had slept since I got to Cambodia. And that was a good thing. The long anticipated first day of teaching was here. With only a few days of observation, no other teacher was going to be in charge. Amber and I were. We rode our bikes to school for the first time, which is quite the adventure, and then were handed a set of keys and a huge stack of books, and we were off. At flag raising our kids were so excited to see us. They all started to ask where we had been the last few days, tried to get us to help tie their ties, and tell us about their weekend. The first hour went decently smooth, but it just kept getting more and more difficult as the day went on. By the time lunch rolled around, I was pretty excited for a break. We shoveled down the usual rice and vegetables and then went to grade. We tried to figure out the grading system for the next two hours, and what we got done didn't seem to make a dent. The last period of the day is sophomore Algebra 1. Since these kids are older, they are much more animated and like to joke around quite a bit. One of the boys quickly gave me the nickname Teacher Alexander Graham Bell. It's a mouth full for an American, think about a Khmer trying to say it over and over. When the bell rang to end Algebra 1 to end the class period and the day, we were rather relieved. Not preparing for Algebra 1 made the class period more stressful than we had anticipated, but we made it through. After a bike ride home, we were determined to clean our apartment and try to do laundry. We have a washing machine that looks like it could shred our clothes. But it's a washing machine, so I can't complain. As soon as we got our clothes out of the wash, huge black clouds rolled on in, and instead of cleaning our apartment, it's now covered with hanging clothes. A stack of Algebra 1 papers now lay graded, along with some Spelling and Phonics papers. The day is over.

                                                                  Liza and Boreamey

It's been a long first day as a first time teacher. In the middle of the afternoon, I thought I was going to die. Amber and I were on our way to the library to grade papers, and a little girl, probably Kindergarten or 1st grader, walked past us and smiled a huge smile and giggled as she walked past us. It was just what we needed. It's incredible how a child can share so much joy and happiness with a little grin and laugh. We've only been in Cambodia for a little over a week, and only 4 days at the school, and we're already getting attached to our kids. If Amber or I don't show up somewhere, we're asked over and over "where is the other teacha?!" Two of my favorite girls Boramey (who Amber wrote about earlier) and Liza always brighten my day. Today Boramey wrote me sentence after sentence, making sure she had each word that was needed to form the sentence correctly. Liza taught us our names in Khmer and showed us how to write them. Once both girls finished their individual "projects" they would run back with huge smiles on their faces eagerly shoving the paper into my hand that they had wrote on. How can you not return a smile from such precious girls? The kids are going to recharge my energy everyday this year. They already have. One week in, and these kids already hold a huge spot in my heart. They are attaching me to Cambodia.

-Alex

Chanboreamey

I love my students. No, I cannot currently pronounce half of their names and in all honesty I cannot say that I even know the other half’s’ names….yet…but I love them just the same. I have only spent three days with my 2^nd-8^th grade ESL classroom, not even to teach but just to observe. Only three days and these kids have already made Cambodia more of a home for me.

            One teeny-tiny little girl has already discovered such an enormous space of my heart to squeeze into. Her name is Chanboreamey. Every day she runs up to me thrilled to merely say good morning. Chanboreamey holds this precious, radiant, smile that makes me want to adopt her as my little sister. She is brilliant; I can already see it.

Liza on the left, and Boreamey on the right. Such sweet faces.

            Each morning up to now Chanboreamey has wiggled her way over to my seat, reading silently until she comes across a word she is unsure of. “Tee-cha,” she says, “I do not know this word.” I will utilize shrugs, nods, smaller and simpler words, and anything I can muster up to describe these new words to her. Eventually I will see the light bulb click on inside her head and almost immediately that brilliant smile of hers lights up along with it. She quickly will write this new word down with a Khmer translation next to it, in order to not forget. She repeats this same routine, maybe up to 50 times in a couple of class periods, following me around the room with book in hand to get help in between the other students. 

            Here’s the catch, I know she recognizes and understands at least half of the words she asks me. Like I stated previously, she is a bright little girl. However, she still pretends to be oblivious in order to receive “help” from her Tee-cha. She is ravenous for attention, not in an aggravating and disruptive way, but in such a sweet and innocent manner. She simply wants reassurance.

            Last week, before walking out of the classroom, Chanboreamey wrapped her little arms around my legs and looked up at me with her big brown eyes and whispered “Oh, I just love you so much Tee-cha.” She has stolen my heart.

Here’s another catch; this little girl may be getting my “help”, but what she does not realize is that she is helping my sometimes empty, somewhat homesick, and pretty starved heart in such a greater and more incredible way that she could even imagine. Chanboreamey’s tiny heart holds so much joy. This teeny-tiny little girl  has already been enough; she has given me a reason to stay. 

-Amber