My New Respect for Teachers

After volunteering in a nursing home in Costa Rica, I had my fill of the elderly and cleaning their wounds. Therefore, I signed up to do childcare here in Bir, India. I expected to be changing diapers but it turns out they don't even wear them but rather just take care of their business in the grass. I expected a room full of needy, crying infants but it turns out that toddlers here are more independent than feminist business women. They rejected almost all of my attempts to play. I felt very slighted. Since the childcare project had more than enough volunteers with three people and the two Tibetan employees looking after only 8 kids, I switched to teaching English. If I had known what I was about to get into, I may not have done so.

The little boys in my class are a rambunctious bunch ranging in age from 6 to 12 and not even remotely in the same educational level. Maree and I can barely handle them all. The first day teaching them proved so trying that it almost deterred me from future volunteering altogether. I walked into the run down classroom and was greeted by a whirlwind of little boys screaming, fighting, and running amok. The first day, we spent the entire second part of the day trying to teach them about six words: happy, sad, upset, angry, surprised and tired. After seemingly countless exercises designed to beat this tiny number of words into their memories, I asked one of the boys, Tenzin, to read the word U-P-S-E-T and he enthusiastically shouted "HAPPY!" I wanted to slug him. Happy? Are you serious? In what universe is that even remotely close?

Needless to say, I was discouraged by the time 3 o' clock rolled around. Maree and I commiserated about how we felt we would never get through to them. Then, she came up with a brilliant idea- bribe them. Leave it to a seasoned teacher to come up with such a sneaky plan! The system is so simple I never thought it would work. We listed their names on the board and every time they went above and beyond and demonstrated exceptional behavior, they earned a star next to their name. The student with the most stars at the end of the day earned one Monster's Inc. sticker. Of course, they tried to cheat our system of corruption by going behind our backs and drawing their own star next to their name. Nice try, boys.

Yet after just one lesson, Norbu, Tenzin, Rinchan, Lacchu, Phurpa, Krishna and Ram transformed from uncontrollable gremlins to quiet cherubs. I really had no idea that one measly Monsters Inc sticker was such a powerful incentive. They also went mental for our lesson plan that involved reading them a book, teaching them some vocab from the story and then doing exercises revolving around the words. Now that we have an infallible lesson plan, I am confident that the remaining classes will go smoothly. It will take some getting used to being called "ma'am" all the time. I have definitely started to fall for the sweet little munchkins. The amount of work they do is certainly admirable- from the get go they are expected to learn Tibetan, Hindi and English.

One comical thing about these little Buddhist boys is that they have no problem beating the crap out of each other, but when it comes to the smallest insect they treat it with more compassion than Mother Theresa. At one point, a little lady bug landed on Norbu's hand and it momentarily looked like he was going to smash it and I almost cried out "no, don't kill it!" before remembering that Buddhist's won't kill anything. Instead, he cupped it with both hands, gingerly walked over to the window, and set it free.

As if a day of teaching crazy Tibetan boys English weren't enough, we go to converse with monks at another monastery in the evening. The first day, a little monk not older than 10 scampered through the door and sat next to me. It turned out he was a flirtatious little Don Juan, asking me to be his girlfriend and marry him. I told him that unless he forks over a solid gold ring with a diamond inlay, there was no chance. I wonder if anyone has clued him into the fact that since he is a monk, he is never getting married.

So anyway, that is my routine here. It is going to be hard to leave these little kiddos at the end of next week, I have to say they certainly earned a permanent residence in my heart.

Bir (it's Pronounced BEER)

Bir, the little Tibetan colony in Northern India, did not welcome me with open arms. Instead, it welcomed me with folded arms and a turned up nose in the form of pouring rain, thick mud, and bitter cold temperatures making me yearn for the Delhi heat. The first day we remained cooped up inside due to the inclement weather and did not get to see the town nor get a view of the seductive Himalayas. It was an especially depressing greeting after such a drawn out journey to get here. After the bus ride, we still had to take an hour trip to pick up a volunteer at the airport only to find out her flight was cancelled due to inclement weather. Therefore, we had to turn around and head back two hours to the home stay. No one was particularly chatty and good-humored that day.

However, the next day the sun made up for its extended absence from the sky by brilliantly shining in a shimmering azure sky. I woke up to a bright day casting light on the seemingly thousands of prayer flags rippling in the gentle breeze. I saw, on that second day, what people meant when they compared Bir to Heaven.

Bir and Delhi are polar opposites. Delhi bustles busily at all hours in a state of mass chaos whereas Bir follows a slower calmer schedule. Also, its people are almost entirely refugees from Tibet and thus the religion is almost completely Buddhist. As many of the volunteers here before me said, Bir is not India, it is Tibet. During our orientation, we learned all about the Tibetan situation. We learned that 129 monks, many of them under 25, committed self-immolation (setting themselves on fire) within the last fews years in an act of protest against the Chinese control of Tibet. They know that they could never challenge such a powerful country as China, and therefore are not seeking independence but rather autonomy. Until today, they could not even be recognized as Indian citizens even if they were born here. Now, at least, they can apply for passports if they are over 25.

What a heartbreaking story. Misplaced people forced out of their native land and not properly embraced by another country. At least here in Bir, they have the ability to conserve their impressive culture and to speak their native tongue.

Despite my not-so-warm welcome, I feel at peace here. Every day after volunteering, we do yoga on the roof of the home stay and it is the most relaxing hour of the day. During the night, we help teach the monks English. The days go by at a spitfire pace, and I'm loving every minute of it.