First Day of School

The principle, her glasses hanging off of her long nose, leaned down and with a thick accent asked, "Would you like to say something?"

I stood there, half expecting them to rush the stage, and leaned into the microphone to address them, but before I could begin, a quick hand grabbed it at angled it up toward my face. Giggles.

"Selemat pagi, semua," I said, flexing my Bahasa Melayu muscles. More laughter. I didn't know that 'good morning' was funny.

I managed to jerk out a few words about feeling excited and welcomed in Malaysia and how much I looked forward to working with them in the next few months. I would be teaching in this school as an English assistant for almost a year and although I was eager to get started, I had no idea what to expect, or what exactly my responsibilities would look like. Did they expect me to single handedly reverse years of history and English language neglect or was I merely a figurehead for forward thinking and "our best effort"? Long after I sat down the students looked at me with a combination of awe and amusement. Most of them have never really known a white person, let alone an American.

I after a few meetings and introductions, I was told I would be under the wing of several different people in the English language department: Puan (Mrs.) Nor Azahan, Puan Aminah, and Encik (Mr.) Farid. As it turns out, these are the three people that make my life livable. Farid is my computer man. He helped me install and pay for an internet connection in my apartment, find supplies and stores, and lent me a laptop when mine went into the shop for repairs. Puan Aminah, who I call Kak (sister) Min is my organizer. She gives me my weekly schedule, takes care of any supplies that I need in school or in my apartment, and drives me around town so I may do my shopping without falling subject to the American pricing scheme. That is, when I walk into a shop and start speaking English, the prices of everything triple. Last, but not least there is Puan Nor Azahan, or as I call her: mom (or mak as it is said here). I would probably be dead without her, or at least severely uncomfortable. She is the one who takes me to the clinic at midnight when I have a fever, brings me food if I don't have time to make it out to the grocery store, and gives me a ride to and from the bus station when I travel. She is my foster mother around here and it is with her that I feel closest to home I am amazed at how warm and open she has been with me and how quickly we became close. I regularly receive invitations to have dinner with her and her family, although I have noticed that her daughters are never present.

Separation of the sexes is another thing that I find interesting. Unmarried women above the age of twelve are not permitted to touch men by custom, religion, and culture. That means no handshakes or high fives and that I must be careful when handing one of my students something. As a teacher, I must be perceived as having the highest moral character for two equally important reasons: first as a role model for the students and second as a representative of the United States. And not only on school grounds either. Chukai is a small enough town that when I go shopping I meet no less then five people that I recognize from school or that will come up to me the next day and say, "Did you have fun at the arcade yesterday?" I cannot be seen drinking, smoking, or having inappropriately close contact with locals or my reputation will quickly sink in the eyes of those around me. Now personally, I think the separation of genders is taken a little too seriously, after all, how are girls and boys supposed to find their partners when they are always shooed away from each other? But on the other hand, if I am going to affect any kind of positive change while I'm here, both in the department of English proficiency and the view of the United States (which is somewhat hurting here as of late), I have to adhere to the cultural norms. Sometimes I am tempted to have a beer with dinner in Chinatown (the Chinese drink) to ease in the idea of differing customs, but all in good time. I think I will take more risks as I near the end of my grant.

In the classroom, I see roughly 1500 different students on a monthly rotating schedule, all with different levels of competency. Some cannot even say "my name is..." or tell me their favorite hobby. Others are capable of literature discussion groups and have a thirst for novels and conversation. The spectrum of skill can be a challenge sometimes, but if worst comes to worst, I just play charades with the class and we all have a blast. I have my own room, luckily, and access to both the internet and an lcd projector when I request it. These are serious luxuries compared to the condition of the rest of the school and I think my presence sometimes makes experienced teachers feel rather unappreciated. They have to rotate from class to class and some of the rooms don't even have a proper set of chairs. I truly get treated like combination of a celebrity and a long-lost family member, even by strangers on the street and by the people I work with at my school. After class, some even ask for photos or an autograph. No joke.

I have never experienced such open curiosity and warmth, but I quickly got used to it. I think the hardest part about returning to the U.S. will be the return to normalcy after living in rockstar status for so long.