so please pray for me. I was bitten and headbutted today. And I had some kindergarten children plan a revolt against me. Two of them tried to steal some of the book fair items. I had to go through their bags and pockets to see exactly what they had stolen.
I also hate selling things; I am not a salesman, and half the stuff in this book fair is crap. I want to tell the children to avoid the nic nac table and buy from the limited selection of fine Australian children's literature that we have. By the end of the day, there were books all over the place, cheetos ground into the carpet, and children crying as the 'biter' had stolen their muesli bars. I tried to put a video on in the av room for some peace (a very low quality imitation of the Jungle Book) but they found pounding the piano more fun. I have a raging headache so I think I'll go find some Panadol.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Sars
Taree is the home of Saxby's, an Australian pop company. They make the Aussie favourite 'Ginger Beer' but also this, which I discovered at the Coles supermarket in Taree. It is Sarsparilla, or Root Beer as us North Americans call it. Aussies are famous for giving nicknames to things, and shortening names. This one is particularly ominous for Canadians, however...
I want to ride my bicycle
The Old Bar area is a fanastic place to go bike riding. We have a large nature reserve nearby that you can ride around for hours in and not see another soul.
Here I am with one of the road signs along Old Bar Road. I don't usually like photos of myself, but thought I should have one with my Indonesian bike in Australia... to prove I'm really here.
I got a bit stuck in this large puddle... I tried riding around but slipped into it. The bike is standing up on its own due to the thick layer of mud at the bottom of this small pond.
In Old Bar, they sell it by the bag.
When people ask you where you live, you are meant to turn your nose up and say in a snooty voice "ald baa... the seasoide huy-ven."
Here I am with one of the road signs along Old Bar Road. I don't usually like photos of myself, but thought I should have one with my Indonesian bike in Australia... to prove I'm really here.
I got a bit stuck in this large puddle... I tried riding around but slipped into it. The bike is standing up on its own due to the thick layer of mud at the bottom of this small pond.
In Old Bar, they sell it by the bag.
When people ask you where you live, you are meant to turn your nose up and say in a snooty voice "ald baa... the seasoide huy-ven."
Teaching
2 weeks ago I started teaching at a school where the majority of students come from disadvantaged backgrounds. I don't know half of the stuff that goes on at these kids' homes, but I have been told abuse, neglect, and instability is the norm for many of these kids. And they don't let you forget it! They show their scars in their words, their actions towards each other and to teachers. They don't seem like a happy bunch on the outset, certainly not a group that appears to enjoy school (at least as I have been indoctrinated that 'kids love to learn'). For these the school setting provides stability that is uncommon... adults who are trustworthy, have firm guidelines, who have standards and morals that structure the way they act and treat others. These first two weeks have been trying... I am exposed to and am aware of some brutal situations. These things make me uncomfortable. I am used to being surrounded by stable people and stable situations (even in Indonesia). Working at this school is unpredictable, stressful, and even emotional. I want to yank them out of their homes and maybe yell at their parents for the stupid things they do. As much as I may stress, however, I'm loving this job. The kids are genuinely lovable, and the more I am around them the more I enjoy them.
I wonder if maybe these are the kind of kids Jesus had around him. The ones that smell funny and swear and kick you and stab each other with pencils. I've always assumed the children that came to Jesus were the nice ones, the boy scouts and girl guides. Maybe some were, but if the kids that came to Jesus were anything like the adults that came to him, I suspect they were the ones with whom nobody really wanted to bother. Maybe that's another reason I like working with them. There's no pretension.. no need to impress them. They appreciate your attention, even though it may not be obvious. One minute they might be yelling swear words at you in the library, but at recess you can be throwing a ball with them in the playground. And every minute of positive interaction seems to cancel out those times of argument and rebellion. I hope these good times will gradually chip away at the shell they've grown to protect themselves and eventually see God's grace.
I wonder if maybe these are the kind of kids Jesus had around him. The ones that smell funny and swear and kick you and stab each other with pencils. I've always assumed the children that came to Jesus were the nice ones, the boy scouts and girl guides. Maybe some were, but if the kids that came to Jesus were anything like the adults that came to him, I suspect they were the ones with whom nobody really wanted to bother. Maybe that's another reason I like working with them. There's no pretension.. no need to impress them. They appreciate your attention, even though it may not be obvious. One minute they might be yelling swear words at you in the library, but at recess you can be throwing a ball with them in the playground. And every minute of positive interaction seems to cancel out those times of argument and rebellion. I hope these good times will gradually chip away at the shell they've grown to protect themselves and eventually see God's grace.
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