Clothes make the woman...meet the man who makes the clothes

So I decided to save my last clean t-shirt for the trip back to Jakarta, and naturally I saved my favorite. Well, actually it was more that I didn't want my favorite t-shirt dripping with sweat after a day of sightseeing in Hong Kong. But then...

(A word about my favorite t-shirt: I bought it a couple of weeks ago at a mall in Jakarta. It has a picture of R.A. Kartini, an educated woman of letters of the 19th century and one of Indonesia's early pioneers for independence and woman's rights. It also just looks cool, and it's a way for me to say that I love Indonesia and its history.)

...in the airport in Singapore, a guy came up to me and told me that he's the one who makes the shirts (there's a whole line of Indonesia pride shirts that are similar). I told him that I love the shirt, and he wanted to take a picture, so I gladly obliged.

Cool, huh?

Not all I'm cracked up to be...

You would think that a somewhat experienced world traveler like myself would NOT:

• forget the map I bought especially for this trip.
• bring razor blades but not razors.
• panic for about 5 seconds about the multi-entry visa I need to re-enter Indonesia before remembering I took care of it more than three months ago.
• forget the 3 Hong Kong dollars that have been sitting on my desk in Jakarta ever since I got Hong Kong change in the airport when I paid for something in U.S. dollars.
• check two symptoms on the swine flu health form upon entering Hong Kong (I'm recovering from a cold not swine flu, and I could have told them that, but no one asked me), which earned me a face mask and an escort downstairs to have my temperature taken. It was normal.
• assume that "all plugs in Asia are the same" and not bring my universal adapter.
• forget sunscreen.

You would think....

But you'd be wrong.

It's been a crazy week, but...

I'm off to Hong Kong! I'm writing from one of the free Internet kiosks in the airport in Singapore, which means that this is going to be short because the sessions are only 15 minutes each. And yes, I know that I can restart, but my flight leaves here pretty soon. (Since third gate's the charm, I guess.)

The Singapore Airport and I are old friends, but I got to meet the Kuala Lumpur airport for the first time last night. The only notables were the square toilet seats (huh?) and the fact that a man seemed to have no problem coming into the women's restroom to aid with toddler potty training. Oh, and the guy I saw dressed head to toe in red. Jeans, jacket, shirt, belt, shoes, backpack, rollaway, and when I got closer-- eyeglasses, too. International travel affords plenty of opportunities for great people watching.

And I'm off! Pictures and anecdotes from Hong Kong coming soon!

The Promised Smattering...

Seen: Michael Jackson buttons on a messenger bag in the angkot.

Heard: "I love you cool!" (yelled at me from the street).

Released: A 2000 rupiah note. Worth about 20 cents U.S.

Bought: Dishes and silverware (finally.)

Taught: An unit on journeys. New thoughts on "The Road Not Taken" too long for this post.

Disciplined?: A swarm of students flicking flakes of sunburned skin off the peeling scalp of a surprisingly calm classmate.

Discovered: A very nice little lounge perfect for dinner, dessert, or drinks on a Friday night.

Ate: Indian food three times in one week.

Cooked: pancakes at school with a friend.

Laughed at: The name on my new tax id card--MAIL LAURA ELIZABERTH

Celebrating: Ramadan

Looking forward to: Wedding in Hong Kong. Two weeks. (Not mine, if that was unclear)

Dreading: All the papers to grade between now and then.

EArtHquAkE!

I had all these tidbits percolating in my head and brewing into a series of good blog posts, but they'll just have to wait while I explain that:

1) Yes, there was an earthquake near Jakarta today. 7.0 magnitude if you're curious.
2) Yes, I felt it.
3) Yes, I'm ok.

I was in the computer lab on the fourth floor with my last class of a busy day, when suddenly I had a weird feeling of vertigo. It took me a couple of seconds to realize that the feeling of unsteadiness was external and not internal.

Now, really I should have been more alarmed, but this being a Midwestern girl's first real earthquake (my mother tells me I slept through a modest one in Indiana at the age of 18 months), I was more curious. I did not climb under my desk, and what's more I didn't even give my students instructions to do so. I joined them at the window to watch the trees down below slightly swaying as though there were a breeze for the duration (15? 30? seconds)

The aftermath was actually more unpleasant than the earthquake. Students flooded the halls, and we didn't know whether to evacuate. The fire alarm (which unlocks the emergency exits) was slow to go off, the students don't take evacuation very seriously, and I ended up with a more grumpy and rushed end to my day than I would have liked.

But still: an earthquake!

I was wondering what effects my apartment had felt, and on the way home I was imagining broken glass on the floor, or the books on my unsteady shelf upset, but there was nothing. Not even the toiletries around my sink had been overturned. So you'll just have to take my word for it.

Makes All the Difference...Apparently

This morning, during class discussion in the library, I was leaning against one of these sloping walls, having sat there purposefully because otherwise the boys sit there and slouch into inattention. But I was slouching now, and I was getting frustrated with the students who weren't paying attention. So I sat up.

It was like a miracle. All of a sudden, the postures around the circle improved, and the behavior improved with it. The conversation wasn't perfect from there, but it was a lot better.

I have a new reason to sit up straight.

Warning: Reflection Ahead

I was humming a hymn in the hallway today, when I messed up the words in my head and sang "All things bright and beautiful, all teachers great and small." I laughed at myself, and then I thought about those stories of little kids mixing up the words of songs into something adorable and ridiculous. Like my mother who imagined the infant Jesus surrounded by vegetables when she misheard the line from "Silent Night" as "Sleep in heavenly peas."

Since I'm a little too old for that to be cute anymore, I started thinking about how I want to be a "teacher great," but more often I feel like a "teacher small." Someone asked me recently if I feel like a veteran teacher with a year of experience under my belt. The answer is no. Emphatically. I'm still waiting for the day when lesson planning comes easily, when classroom management is a breeze, and when I feel like I have enough time to teach/grade/prepare/review everything I need to.

In some ways, I'm a better teacher than I was last year. But mostly, I feel like I have a long way to go. In particular, I've realized how little I know about teaching English to non-native speakers. It's a different ballgame, and I'm still learning the rules. Sometimes, I feel sorry for these kids because they're my first batch, my experimentees, and I improvise a lot.

But here's where my reflection ended up: what I love about teaching is that I always have another class, another day, another week, another unit, another chance to do better. If nothing else, this job forces me to accept grace for my failures. And grace spurs me on to make myself a better teacher tomorrow than I was today.