Chaithra made my day a few nights ago when she called me from Bangalore to tell me 12th grade ISC Biology exam results... All were 80% or better!!!
Way to go!
Way to go!
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Moved
I recently took what I think will be my last trip to Hosur (the town closest to Shanti Bhavan School). And I realized how much I am going to miss the rickety old bus that takes me from just outside SB gates one hour to Hosur.
A 12th grader shared with me that her mother may have had a miscarriage as an indirect or direct result of riding a rural Indian bus. I now know just what she means. There are numerous times when the bus hits one of the hundreds of giant pot holes and my entire bottom leaves the seat for a moment hanging in mid air. It is a crowded, hot, dusty and dirty ride. The buses are either green or bright orange and appear to be built in the early 1970s. As much as we ramble along it amazes me how we never break down. Though in all this I also feel excited, even invigorated by our bus rides to Hosur.
There is the bus conductor who collects fares and distributes the tickets. Though I do not know his name, everyone else riding the bus seems to. He jokes and cajoles with the regulars in Tamil. I don't know what he says but it's obvious he loves his job. He has a whistle blown to signal the driver to a jerking stop for a new passenger. He seems to have a soft spot for old women who board the bus, as these are the only passengers he will help up the steep steps of the tenuous clamoring bus. He gently lifts them up and helps them find a seat among the colorful crowd. He is cheeky and playful with the school children. But my favorite quality about our conductor is the fluid grace he maintains while riding this bronco of a bus. He has mastered the art of balance; no hands while exchanging rupees for small red, blue, purple or yellow tickets. He holds rupee notes folded once lengthwise like a fan through the able fingers of one hand to make easy change. With an old worn leather satchel strapped across his body for the coins he collects, he looks like a trolley conductor of a time passed.
School children board the bus in the afternoon. Girls' hair plaited then pinned up to make two ovals of silky ebony braids just behind either ear. Each time these small knobby-legged students come face to face with Shanti Bhavan volunteers, we are met with wide-eyed stares of wonder and curiosity that then give way to shy smiles. Laura takes out an iPod, which causes the children to poke each other and stare with delight at the device-- so completely out of place in this rural setting, yet the children know what it is and how lucky Laura is to have it.
The women on the bus are regally beautiful with single long oiled plaits down their backs. Each woman's hair may have fragrant orange or white flowers in a string decorating the braid. Silty yellow gold is normal everyday jewelry-- nose rings, earrings, bracelets and anklets. Small children on the women's laps have bangles on their ankles and most have ears pierced. Each very small child has a dark smudge on his or her face. I am told this is because young children are so pretty and cute they must wear a blemish since it is boastful to be too attractive. Long and lean women wear saris of vibrant rich color in floral or geometric trim. The shape of this garmet so perfectly emphasizes the flowing line and curve of the feminine body. The women who spot SB volunteers aware their friends beside them and smile. The smell of soap and sandalwood fills the bus air and mixes with the sweet earthy smell of cows and hay.
Though most on the bus are barefoot, women's feet are adorned with gold while the male agricultural workers' feet are dry and caked with white-grey dust from the nearby quarry. There are two types of men that ride this bus. One is a western trouser, short sleeve button-up shirt business man, who works at one of the small businesses on the way to Hosur. They have somewhat shabby wear but are marked to all by their cell phones, from which they play Bollywood music. The other sort of man has sun-dried and wrinkled skin with grey hair from age, stone breaking or calcium deficiency. These men wear doti, a piece of fabric worn on the bottom half of the body, with a simple shirt and a towel over the shoulder. They work in the fields, quarries and brick yards. Sometimes they have small pieces of whatever crop they were harvesting in their disheveled hair. Always the look of exhaustion and resolve present on their faces. Accustomed to standing; being shoved and crowded in, bumped and swayed; with gaze toward sunburst fields rushing by, they allow their bodies to be moved.
A 12th grader shared with me that her mother may have had a miscarriage as an indirect or direct result of riding a rural Indian bus. I now know just what she means. There are numerous times when the bus hits one of the hundreds of giant pot holes and my entire bottom leaves the seat for a moment hanging in mid air. It is a crowded, hot, dusty and dirty ride. The buses are either green or bright orange and appear to be built in the early 1970s. As much as we ramble along it amazes me how we never break down. Though in all this I also feel excited, even invigorated by our bus rides to Hosur.
There is the bus conductor who collects fares and distributes the tickets. Though I do not know his name, everyone else riding the bus seems to. He jokes and cajoles with the regulars in Tamil. I don't know what he says but it's obvious he loves his job. He has a whistle blown to signal the driver to a jerking stop for a new passenger. He seems to have a soft spot for old women who board the bus, as these are the only passengers he will help up the steep steps of the tenuous clamoring bus. He gently lifts them up and helps them find a seat among the colorful crowd. He is cheeky and playful with the school children. But my favorite quality about our conductor is the fluid grace he maintains while riding this bronco of a bus. He has mastered the art of balance; no hands while exchanging rupees for small red, blue, purple or yellow tickets. He holds rupee notes folded once lengthwise like a fan through the able fingers of one hand to make easy change. With an old worn leather satchel strapped across his body for the coins he collects, he looks like a trolley conductor of a time passed.
School children board the bus in the afternoon. Girls' hair plaited then pinned up to make two ovals of silky ebony braids just behind either ear. Each time these small knobby-legged students come face to face with Shanti Bhavan volunteers, we are met with wide-eyed stares of wonder and curiosity that then give way to shy smiles. Laura takes out an iPod, which causes the children to poke each other and stare with delight at the device-- so completely out of place in this rural setting, yet the children know what it is and how lucky Laura is to have it.
The women on the bus are regally beautiful with single long oiled plaits down their backs. Each woman's hair may have fragrant orange or white flowers in a string decorating the braid. Silty yellow gold is normal everyday jewelry-- nose rings, earrings, bracelets and anklets. Small children on the women's laps have bangles on their ankles and most have ears pierced. Each very small child has a dark smudge on his or her face. I am told this is because young children are so pretty and cute they must wear a blemish since it is boastful to be too attractive. Long and lean women wear saris of vibrant rich color in floral or geometric trim. The shape of this garmet so perfectly emphasizes the flowing line and curve of the feminine body. The women who spot SB volunteers aware their friends beside them and smile. The smell of soap and sandalwood fills the bus air and mixes with the sweet earthy smell of cows and hay.
Though most on the bus are barefoot, women's feet are adorned with gold while the male agricultural workers' feet are dry and caked with white-grey dust from the nearby quarry. There are two types of men that ride this bus. One is a western trouser, short sleeve button-up shirt business man, who works at one of the small businesses on the way to Hosur. They have somewhat shabby wear but are marked to all by their cell phones, from which they play Bollywood music. The other sort of man has sun-dried and wrinkled skin with grey hair from age, stone breaking or calcium deficiency. These men wear doti, a piece of fabric worn on the bottom half of the body, with a simple shirt and a towel over the shoulder. They work in the fields, quarries and brick yards. Sometimes they have small pieces of whatever crop they were harvesting in their disheveled hair. Always the look of exhaustion and resolve present on their faces. Accustomed to standing; being shoved and crowded in, bumped and swayed; with gaze toward sunburst fields rushing by, they allow their bodies to be moved.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Class of 2011
Congratulations to Shanti Bhavan class of 2011!
I had the immense pleasure and honor to teach 12th grade Biology for awhile this year. As we prepared for the Biology ISC Exam together I learned a lot about just how special and incredibly intelligent each one of these students are.
These are the students of 12th grade Biology 2011:
Lilly -- She is the only girl on the school soccer team where she not only plays but scores winning goals. Lilly is a perfectionist with killer dance moves who rarely answers incorrectly and carries herself with a steadfast sense of confidence.
Abilash -- With aspirations to become a herpetologist but dance moves like Michael Jackson, Abilash takes everything on full force. He loves a challenge, rises to the occasion, and takes it all in stride with a sense of humor.
Arrun -- He could easily become the next great cancer researcher or Nobel Prize-winning physicist. When he is not scoring on the basketball court, Arrun is exercising his excellent study skills and challenging me to think of Biology questions he might not know.
Chaithra -- Chaithra has more personality than a Bollywood heroine. Chaithra lights up a room, usually first with song and later with personality and smile. When she is not enjoying one of her many friendships or singing the newest pop hit, she is studying Biology with me.
Thank you for all you are, 12th grade.
Best of luck in college next year!
I had the immense pleasure and honor to teach 12th grade Biology for awhile this year. As we prepared for the Biology ISC Exam together I learned a lot about just how special and incredibly intelligent each one of these students are.
These are the students of 12th grade Biology 2011:
Lilly -- She is the only girl on the school soccer team where she not only plays but scores winning goals. Lilly is a perfectionist with killer dance moves who rarely answers incorrectly and carries herself with a steadfast sense of confidence.
Abilash -- With aspirations to become a herpetologist but dance moves like Michael Jackson, Abilash takes everything on full force. He loves a challenge, rises to the occasion, and takes it all in stride with a sense of humor.
Arrun -- He could easily become the next great cancer researcher or Nobel Prize-winning physicist. When he is not scoring on the basketball court, Arrun is exercising his excellent study skills and challenging me to think of Biology questions he might not know.
Chaithra -- Chaithra has more personality than a Bollywood heroine. Chaithra lights up a room, usually first with song and later with personality and smile. When she is not enjoying one of her many friendships or singing the newest pop hit, she is studying Biology with me.
Thank you for all you are, 12th grade.
Best of luck in college next year!
Monday, May 30, 2011
Count the Mirrors
While lesson planning for a 6th grade physical science class I came across the following activity in the American textbook we use:
"A flat mirror is known as a plane mirror. Look around your home and count the number of plane mirrors."
Most of my students would not be able to complete this assignment at home. In some cases students might not have a home. And in the cases where there is a home, that space very easily might have no mirrors hanging on the wall. Students could however count the mirrors in their dorms here at school.
I have never, until now, read a textbook activity and considered the many assumptions writers and editors make there in the pages of the books. How do my 6th grade students feel when they read this assignment and realize there are no mirrors to count at home? Yes, textbooks are often written for the culture in which the books will be used. An American textbook would be, under normal circumstances, used in America. However there may be students in America who do not have mirrors in their homes. These students would be in the same situation as my 6th graders here in rural India when they read the words in this textbook. Do the tools of education assume a certain socio-economic background? If yes, are we as a society perpetuating the exclusion of entire populations of students? As the educators is it not our responsibility to recognize this?
I am trying my best to objectively observe my reactions to some of the students' life stories. This school is like any other in so many ways. Yet each day at assembly when the children sing I feel a special weight inside me. The stories affect me emotionally but that emotional response seems too little; too insignificant. Perhaps the stories scare me or worry me. Maybe I wish I never came across these histories. How should one carry the burden of knowing? How should I move through the initial emotional response and toward a contructive perspective? When I look at myself in the mirror I know people might consider what we are doing here at Shanti Bhavan good. But I feel I contribute only a small part. There is still much more to do.
Count the mirrors in your home. What do you see?
"A flat mirror is known as a plane mirror. Look around your home and count the number of plane mirrors."
Most of my students would not be able to complete this assignment at home. In some cases students might not have a home. And in the cases where there is a home, that space very easily might have no mirrors hanging on the wall. Students could however count the mirrors in their dorms here at school.
I have never, until now, read a textbook activity and considered the many assumptions writers and editors make there in the pages of the books. How do my 6th grade students feel when they read this assignment and realize there are no mirrors to count at home? Yes, textbooks are often written for the culture in which the books will be used. An American textbook would be, under normal circumstances, used in America. However there may be students in America who do not have mirrors in their homes. These students would be in the same situation as my 6th graders here in rural India when they read the words in this textbook. Do the tools of education assume a certain socio-economic background? If yes, are we as a society perpetuating the exclusion of entire populations of students? As the educators is it not our responsibility to recognize this?
I am trying my best to objectively observe my reactions to some of the students' life stories. This school is like any other in so many ways. Yet each day at assembly when the children sing I feel a special weight inside me. The stories affect me emotionally but that emotional response seems too little; too insignificant. Perhaps the stories scare me or worry me. Maybe I wish I never came across these histories. How should one carry the burden of knowing? How should I move through the initial emotional response and toward a contructive perspective? When I look at myself in the mirror I know people might consider what we are doing here at Shanti Bhavan good. But I feel I contribute only a small part. There is still much more to do.
Count the mirrors in your home. What do you see?
Monday, March 21, 2011
Holi!
Yesterday was Holi -- the Festival of Color. This festival involves a rainbow of brightly colored powder (originally made from ground up flowers), which is then thrown at revelling Holi participants. The color is sold in local markets (I have pictures of color piles at stalls in the Devaraja Market in Mysore). Though Holi is more of a northern India festival we celebrated it here at Shanti Bhavan after convincing our acting principal, Miss Beena, of the festival's academic and physical education value. The 11th and 12th graders were allowed to particpate with the volunteers.
Another volunteer named Rashmi and I were busy prepping 10th grade Biology students for their ICSC exam all weekend, so we arrived at the Holi battlefield a bit late. By the time we got there water had already been added to the mix. Immediately I noticed that there was a serious lack of ammo for the volunteers as the students had commandeered the water buckets and the color. We quickly realized we would be the hunted instead of the hunters. (It's only appropraite after all the tests and homework we gave the students, right?!) Before I knew it, bright blue and hot pink were walloped at me from right and left. One of my 11th grade Biology and Environmental Science students, Praveen, then took it upon himself to drench me in dark navy blue color after he chased me around and finally wore me out. In the end, the kids and volunteers were completely covered in tye dye color head to toe. In fact, we are all still washing the pink and blue out of our nail beds, hands, feet, and hair.
I am so glad I was able to spend Holi with the students of Shanti Bhavan. I doubt any of us will ever forget it. And a BIG thank you to Miss Beena. We promise all the blue and pink spots that were not reached with our scrubbing will eventually come out of the assembly courtyard walls. Also thank you to Justin and Lorenza who treked to Hosur to buy the color for the fun. Had we known that one color packet was enough for four buckets of water...well, we all would be a lot less colorful right now. (We miss you both already. You are amazing people and I know on behalf of all the volunteers, we are lucky to now call you our friends. Safe and happy travels to you.) Happy Holi everyone!
Another volunteer named Rashmi and I were busy prepping 10th grade Biology students for their ICSC exam all weekend, so we arrived at the Holi battlefield a bit late. By the time we got there water had already been added to the mix. Immediately I noticed that there was a serious lack of ammo for the volunteers as the students had commandeered the water buckets and the color. We quickly realized we would be the hunted instead of the hunters. (It's only appropraite after all the tests and homework we gave the students, right?!) Before I knew it, bright blue and hot pink were walloped at me from right and left. One of my 11th grade Biology and Environmental Science students, Praveen, then took it upon himself to drench me in dark navy blue color after he chased me around and finally wore me out. In the end, the kids and volunteers were completely covered in tye dye color head to toe. In fact, we are all still washing the pink and blue out of our nail beds, hands, feet, and hair.
I am so glad I was able to spend Holi with the students of Shanti Bhavan. I doubt any of us will ever forget it. And a BIG thank you to Miss Beena. We promise all the blue and pink spots that were not reached with our scrubbing will eventually come out of the assembly courtyard walls. Also thank you to Justin and Lorenza who treked to Hosur to buy the color for the fun. Had we known that one color packet was enough for four buckets of water...well, we all would be a lot less colorful right now. (We miss you both already. You are amazing people and I know on behalf of all the volunteers, we are lucky to now call you our friends. Safe and happy travels to you.) Happy Holi everyone!
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Miley Cyrus?
The fifth grade girls (plus Bhavani and Angel Mary from 6th grade) asked me to teach them a choreographed dance for fun. I told them 'Absolutely! You girls just tell me the song and I will learn it and teach it to you.' I knew that they might pick an American pop song. What I didn't fully understand was the full arsenal that they could choose from. So (drum roll please) they picked--- Miley Cyrus, Hoe Down Throw Down.
And so begins the story of why I am teaching Miley Cyrus, Hoe Down Throw Down in rural India...
And so begins the story of why I am teaching Miley Cyrus, Hoe Down Throw Down in rural India...
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Voices of Shanti Bhavan: Shilpa
Shilpa is a composed and eloquent 12th grader. Her experiences, combined with personal resolve, have given her maturity and confidence that make her a leader among peers. I met her early during my time here at Shanti Bhavan when she asked me to help organize the autobiography she is writing. I sat with her for three hours while she told me the story of her life so far. The words were on the computer screen in front of us, yet she knew each one of them by heart. I listened to this seventeen year old recount stories amazing for me to hear from a girl her age. Shilpa's story is unique, even amazing, but her feelings and choices mirror the feelings and choices of young adults everywhere.
She spoke of bride burning*; of suicide and shame; of orphaned infant girls found in garbage heaps; of the difference between wanted and unwanted touches; of alcoholism, of difficult choices, of longing for home, anxiety and uncertainty, excitement and love, of exposure to new cultures and languages, and of other students, friends, no longer at Shanti Bhavan for various reasons.
I watched Shilpa as she thoughtfully kneaded out the twists of chance that led her on a very different path than one of her former classmates. Shilpa's age, this former female student is no longer at Shanti Bhavan and now has two children, who work with her harvesting vegetables field to field in southern India. Shilpa spoke fluidly, like she had debated and finally decided on the words in her head or even out-loud that would perfectly fit this part of the story.
Her voice clear and strong, Shilpa drew the image for me of when she first came to realize her father was illiterate. I watched her hands trace the room's air as she described teaching her father, when she was in elementary school, to sign his name in the Shanti Bhavan visitor book.
There I sat mesmorized by Shilpa and the journey her voice has taken. Her identity, formed by the choices she made, makes, and will make, straddles both the world of her family at home and her family here at Shanti Bhavan. I am dumbfounded by Shilpa. I'm also incredibly lucky to have been her listener. She is a resonating voice of Shanti Bhavan and a prime example of the loving warmth this school radiates.
"Then a woman said, 'Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow.'
And he answered: 'Your joy is your sorrow unmasked. And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears. And how else can it be?'"
--- Kahil Gibran
*According to statistics 250 cases of "bride burning" in India go unreported and less than 10% of the cases see legal action. Bride burning happens as punishment for crimes such as failing to produce a son or grandson, infidelity, or generally shaming the family. In October 2006 the Domestic Violence Law of India was passed to protect the women of India. Yet in 2007, every six hours a married woman in India was beaten, burnt to death or harassed to the point of suicide.
She spoke of bride burning*; of suicide and shame; of orphaned infant girls found in garbage heaps; of the difference between wanted and unwanted touches; of alcoholism, of difficult choices, of longing for home, anxiety and uncertainty, excitement and love, of exposure to new cultures and languages, and of other students, friends, no longer at Shanti Bhavan for various reasons.
I watched Shilpa as she thoughtfully kneaded out the twists of chance that led her on a very different path than one of her former classmates. Shilpa's age, this former female student is no longer at Shanti Bhavan and now has two children, who work with her harvesting vegetables field to field in southern India. Shilpa spoke fluidly, like she had debated and finally decided on the words in her head or even out-loud that would perfectly fit this part of the story.
Her voice clear and strong, Shilpa drew the image for me of when she first came to realize her father was illiterate. I watched her hands trace the room's air as she described teaching her father, when she was in elementary school, to sign his name in the Shanti Bhavan visitor book.
There I sat mesmorized by Shilpa and the journey her voice has taken. Her identity, formed by the choices she made, makes, and will make, straddles both the world of her family at home and her family here at Shanti Bhavan. I am dumbfounded by Shilpa. I'm also incredibly lucky to have been her listener. She is a resonating voice of Shanti Bhavan and a prime example of the loving warmth this school radiates.
"Then a woman said, 'Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow.'
And he answered: 'Your joy is your sorrow unmasked. And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears. And how else can it be?'"
--- Kahil Gibran
*According to statistics 250 cases of "bride burning" in India go unreported and less than 10% of the cases see legal action. Bride burning happens as punishment for crimes such as failing to produce a son or grandson, infidelity, or generally shaming the family. In October 2006 the Domestic Violence Law of India was passed to protect the women of India. Yet in 2007, every six hours a married woman in India was beaten, burnt to death or harassed to the point of suicide.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Treasure Hunt
Today with my 5th grade English class we did a treasure hunt as part of the projects we have been working on after reading Stevenson's Treasure Island. The students loved it! It was girls team against boys team. A race to find the buried treasure first; hidden at some secret spot on Shanti Bhavan campus. Kishore said, as I walked on the sandy road that leads around campus with the boys team: "It's like we are walking on the beach. Doesn't it really feel like we're on an island, Miss? Look, we even have palm trees and coconuts."
Before the hunt I was nervous to have a cohort of 5th graders running and yelling around campus while ISC and ICSE Board Exams were taking place for some of the high school students. However, I discussed the need for quiet and good behavior with the students before the hunt. In the end, I felt extremely proud of their ability to follow direction while still managing to have fun.
After each team found their buried treasure I learned that the students had made individualized gifts for each other. They drew pictures on cards according to particular interests or special talents. Cars and tools or lilies and sunflowers. Compasses, pencils, erasers, and other small items were given wholeheartedly. My original prompt was to hide any item. In their free time the students had taken this direction to a new level. What an outstanding example of the love the students have for each other! They have truly developed a sense of family here at Shanti Bhavan. The energy and force of this love envelops. I am so thankful that the students have allowed me into the warmth of this family.
Before the hunt I was nervous to have a cohort of 5th graders running and yelling around campus while ISC and ICSE Board Exams were taking place for some of the high school students. However, I discussed the need for quiet and good behavior with the students before the hunt. In the end, I felt extremely proud of their ability to follow direction while still managing to have fun.
After each team found their buried treasure I learned that the students had made individualized gifts for each other. They drew pictures on cards according to particular interests or special talents. Cars and tools or lilies and sunflowers. Compasses, pencils, erasers, and other small items were given wholeheartedly. My original prompt was to hide any item. In their free time the students had taken this direction to a new level. What an outstanding example of the love the students have for each other! They have truly developed a sense of family here at Shanti Bhavan. The energy and force of this love envelops. I am so thankful that the students have allowed me into the warmth of this family.
Friday, March 4, 2011
Cultural Sensitivity
"If you can't see that your own culture has its own set of interests, emotions, and biasis, how can you expect to deal successfully with someone else's culture." --- Arthur Kleinman, Chair of Social Medicine, Harvard
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Gotta Love Biology
I have rediscovered my love for Biology here at Shanti Bhavan; and in addition, the sheer joy that comes with teaching it.
Here in India high school students take a series of exams in 10th grade and 12th grade. They are lengthly exams that will determine the next course of study. In 10th grade, certain scores in specific areas move the student into a science-track or a non-science track. In 12th grade, the exam scores, similar to the SAT II's, will significantly weigh-in on the college each student attends.
10th grade BIO pre-board scores have come in: Shashi 98%, Prem 93%, Nickhil 92%...
So excited for 10th grade! The actual Board Exams for BIO are coming up in about two weeks. Preparation is coming along excellently. Enthusiasm great. Attitude even better. More to come...
Here in India high school students take a series of exams in 10th grade and 12th grade. They are lengthly exams that will determine the next course of study. In 10th grade, certain scores in specific areas move the student into a science-track or a non-science track. In 12th grade, the exam scores, similar to the SAT II's, will significantly weigh-in on the college each student attends.
10th grade BIO pre-board scores have come in: Shashi 98%, Prem 93%, Nickhil 92%...
So excited for 10th grade! The actual Board Exams for BIO are coming up in about two weeks. Preparation is coming along excellently. Enthusiasm great. Attitude even better. More to come...
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Environmental Education
I'm not sure if it's because I've been teaching long 11th grade Environmental Education classes lately, but I am recently stricken with India's natural environment.
Yesterday at lunch we had a red beet salad. Tom Robbins was right --- something so complete and fulfilling about a rich, metallic, earthy red beet.
In fauna news, I am proud to say that I have figured out why each cow I see is undoubtably accompanied by a white egret. As the cows eat grass, it stirs up the insects in the grasses for the egrets to feast on. Luckily for my Environmental Education class, this relationship served nicely as an example of symbiotic commensalism.
That's all for nature news. I wonder what's for lunch today...
- India is home to 2,000 species of orchid, only 10% of those found worldwide.
- Like cows, lions are sacred. The goddess Durga is said to use a lion as her special means of transportation.
- Hibiscus flowers are vibrantly abundant as summer approaches. These flowers are offered to the goddess Kali. Kali is associated with eternal energy and as the students tell me, known as the lordess of death. She is a fierce goddess. Perhaps the fiery hibiscus flower parallels her fearsome nature.
- Dhatura flowers are offered to Shiva.
- A recent article describes a tumeric-derived drug found to be useful in stroke patients or potential stroke patients according to Cedars Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles. India Aryvedic Medicine has been using tumeric for centuries to treat similar conditions.
Yesterday at lunch we had a red beet salad. Tom Robbins was right --- something so complete and fulfilling about a rich, metallic, earthy red beet.
In fauna news, I am proud to say that I have figured out why each cow I see is undoubtably accompanied by a white egret. As the cows eat grass, it stirs up the insects in the grasses for the egrets to feast on. Luckily for my Environmental Education class, this relationship served nicely as an example of symbiotic commensalism.
That's all for nature news. I wonder what's for lunch today...
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
'The Germans are coming!'
Word around campus was: "The Germans are coming!"
Last weekend we had a special weekend full of festivities sponsored by all of the German companies in Bangalore. Funds go towards the school and the students' college educations. Employees and their families came to Shanti Bhavan for sun and sport in the shape of a weekend soccer tournament. The students here prepared all week before the big event. They were to perform classical and Bollywood dances, various Tamil plays, piano solos, and choral pieces. In addition, the Shanti Bhavan soccer team boys (and girl--- go Lilly!) drilled for the big tournament.
It was a wonderful weekend full of bbq (a rare meat-eating event for our vegetarian campus), sunburns, family, soccer players, cheerleaders (the girls had the misfortune to be under my care and still managed to cheer their team to victory), face-painting, and music!
Last weekend we had a special weekend full of festivities sponsored by all of the German companies in Bangalore. Funds go towards the school and the students' college educations. Employees and their families came to Shanti Bhavan for sun and sport in the shape of a weekend soccer tournament. The students here prepared all week before the big event. They were to perform classical and Bollywood dances, various Tamil plays, piano solos, and choral pieces. In addition, the Shanti Bhavan soccer team boys (and girl--- go Lilly!) drilled for the big tournament.
It was a wonderful weekend full of bbq (a rare meat-eating event for our vegetarian campus), sunburns, family, soccer players, cheerleaders (the girls had the misfortune to be under my care and still managed to cheer their team to victory), face-painting, and music!
Monday, January 24, 2011
So Much
I have been in India for seven days now. In an effort to get you all caught up, here is a free verse bit about those seven days (and what a seven days it's been!):
Snow storms
Oh, Chicago winters!
I know the best places to sleep at O'Hare;
The ones that don't get vacuumed at 3 am.
Stacia and I talk about my Polish last name
in broken English and body language.
Vince Vaughn and I waiting for our plane's engines
To be tip-top.
We both want to get to London.
He is wearing Vans and carrying two legal pads.
What movie are you working on, Vince?
Coffee.
More coffee.
Chicago to Delhi
One book: Writing As a Way of Healing.
Social Network
Never Let Me Go.
Stay at The Grand
(Thank you American Airlines)
In the room for five hours and
Decide to take bubble bath since I know
it's a luxury I won't have for some time.
I eat the most juicy kiwi I've ever had.
Indian cookies in room
Spice is unplaceable
But familiarly Indian.
BBC news.
Off to Bangalore.
Crossing my fingers for my luggage to be there.
Hoping against hope that my delayed and changed flight
pattern will be communicated.
Communication.
Will there be a driver to take me two hours outside
Bangalore to the school?
Must change money over to Rs.
No bag. I loose it at this point.
Foreign country. Strong accents.
Going two hours from airport where I'm not sure
whether there will be telephone or internet
communication.
Find my driver
patiently waiting,
thankfully.
Sigh of relief.
Separate myself from physical items in my bag.
(Try to.)
Must.
Weather like California
Pulls me in and hugs me close.
Driving in India is like being inside
a video game
whose designers have decided to throw
each and every possible
obstacle at the driver
in an effort to make him crash.
Cyclists. Motorcycles. Mo-peds.
Auto rickshaws.
Taxis. Cows.
Grandmother with rice on head.
Child barefoot. Water jug. No hands!
Middle of intersection.
More barefoot children. Garbage.
Red red red dirt.
Man urinating in middle of next intersection.
Does green mean go?
I guess red doesn't mean stop.
Cow. Garbage heap. Are we still in our lane?
Are there lanes?
Cows with painted horns.
Wait! Look out for that ---!
Cars coming the other direction.
Cows. Cows. COW!
Goat crossing.
Police with whistle.
Cow.
Construction.
Light out.
Pot hole the size of small crater.
Water leak. Cow.
Cow.
Cow cow cow.
Finally make it Shanti Bhavan.
Peaceful Haven of light.
Veggie gardens
Palms
Pastoral.
Monkey. Goat. Cow. Parrot.
Piano music and children's voices.
Newly energized,
Taking tours.
The kids all know my name!
Kicking myself for not taking a pen
on tour.
Want to write down the students' names.
How will I remember?!
Is that Shilpa with an "S" or a "C"?
Am I saying that correctly?
Second graders make me want to
Never ever stop smiling.
Why would we ever stop smiling?
"Miss Leah. Miss Leah."
Bursting with love
Love. Light. Warmth.
No change of clothes
But all the warmth I need
Right here
in this place.
Shanti Bhavan.
Snow storms
Oh, Chicago winters!
I know the best places to sleep at O'Hare;
The ones that don't get vacuumed at 3 am.
Stacia and I talk about my Polish last name
in broken English and body language.
Vince Vaughn and I waiting for our plane's engines
To be tip-top.
We both want to get to London.
He is wearing Vans and carrying two legal pads.
What movie are you working on, Vince?
Coffee.
More coffee.
Chicago to Delhi
One book: Writing As a Way of Healing.
Social Network
Never Let Me Go.
Stay at The Grand
(Thank you American Airlines)
In the room for five hours and
Decide to take bubble bath since I know
it's a luxury I won't have for some time.
I eat the most juicy kiwi I've ever had.
Indian cookies in room
Spice is unplaceable
But familiarly Indian.
BBC news.
Off to Bangalore.
Crossing my fingers for my luggage to be there.
Hoping against hope that my delayed and changed flight
pattern will be communicated.
Communication.
Will there be a driver to take me two hours outside
Bangalore to the school?
Must change money over to Rs.
No bag. I loose it at this point.
Foreign country. Strong accents.
Going two hours from airport where I'm not sure
whether there will be telephone or internet
communication.
Find my driver
patiently waiting,
thankfully.
Sigh of relief.
Separate myself from physical items in my bag.
(Try to.)
Must.
Weather like California
Pulls me in and hugs me close.
Driving in India is like being inside
a video game
whose designers have decided to throw
each and every possible
obstacle at the driver
in an effort to make him crash.
Cyclists. Motorcycles. Mo-peds.
Auto rickshaws.
Taxis. Cows.
Grandmother with rice on head.
Child barefoot. Water jug. No hands!
Middle of intersection.
More barefoot children. Garbage.
Red red red dirt.
Man urinating in middle of next intersection.
Does green mean go?
I guess red doesn't mean stop.
Cow. Garbage heap. Are we still in our lane?
Are there lanes?
Cows with painted horns.
Wait! Look out for that ---!
Cars coming the other direction.
Cows. Cows. COW!
Goat crossing.
Police with whistle.
Cow.
Construction.
Light out.
Pot hole the size of small crater.
Water leak. Cow.
Cow.
Cow cow cow.
Finally make it Shanti Bhavan.
Peaceful Haven of light.
Veggie gardens
Palms
Pastoral.
Monkey. Goat. Cow. Parrot.
Piano music and children's voices.
Newly energized,
Taking tours.
The kids all know my name!
Kicking myself for not taking a pen
on tour.
Want to write down the students' names.
How will I remember?!
Is that Shilpa with an "S" or a "C"?
Am I saying that correctly?
Second graders make me want to
Never ever stop smiling.
Why would we ever stop smiling?
"Miss Leah. Miss Leah."
Bursting with love
Love. Light. Warmth.
No change of clothes
But all the warmth I need
Right here
in this place.
Shanti Bhavan.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Branching Out
I woke up this morning in my comfortable bed, went for a run, took a hot shower, ate a nutritious breakfast and thought, for the first time in a while, about how lucky I am. I noticed these everyday routines this day of all days since today is the day I leave for India. I have never been to India. And though I've studied much, and read even more, India seems worlds away. It will take me twenty four hours to get there and three airplane rides. When I arrive in Bangalore, it will be Wednesday. (What exactly happens to my Tuesday, January 18, 2011?)
I will be teaching science, English, and dance at the Shanti Bhavan School just outside of Bangalore, India for the New York organization called Artists Striving To End Poverty. The impetus for this experience is the need to bridge my self and what I may offer to others in a very real and direct way.
Though blogging and I have had a love-hate relationship, I decided I need to process my thoughts and adventures not only for my friends and family, but for myself.
A bit about the title. Anastomosis. Anastomosis is a Greek word meaning intercommunicate. It describes two or more paths or branches coming together as one. Some use it to describe rivers, tree branches, sap vessels, or blood vessels. While reading Body of Work: Meditations on Mortality From the Human Anatomy Lab by Christine Montross (an artful and awe-filled book about the human body, written from a poet-physician's perspective) I noticed that Montross was inspired by the loveliness and utility of medical terminology. One word she marvels upon is anastomosis. I thought: What a perfect title for my Indian adventure! Let this experience be a coming together. Two paths merging, growing as one.
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