My Little Town

This was my third time in the village since Christmas, and things have gotten a bit routine. The bus ride is crowded, and other passengers are confused by my presence. My family is happy to see me, and I’m usually given a child to occupy within 10 minutes of my arrival. The evening centers around a church event, be it Bingo or a siva. I don’t sleep long enough for me, but my family thinks I oversleep by at least an hour. We hang out until the bus picks me up.

From a sociological / anthropological standpoint, it’s interesting to see how the town evolves from month to month. Being an outsider with a regular insider perspective provides a unique opportunity to witness the drama unfolding without being a real player in that drama.

Phil’s host father Isaako is the new Pulenu’u, or mayor. He starts his three-year term next week, succeeding K8’s host father, Malae. I asked Phil’s sister Tuese how the new Pulenu’u is chosen. She said that it involves the meeting of the 4 Laumatia families, who make a collective decision. I am unclear one how the 4 families are different and yet related, but I figure I’ll take things one step at a time.

The faleo’o in which I slept for my entire village stay has been remodeled. They took out the dividing wall so it’s an open fale once more, and then they added a smaller rectangular wing. Mele and Asolima and the 2 girls sleep out there now. The TV is also out there. The sleeping situation has been different every time I’ve been back to the village, and it makes me wonder what things were like before the Peace Corps rolled through.

Back in January, Phil’s sister Leata told me that she was planning on moving to American Samoa in February. Then in February, she told me she was leaving the first week of March. She told me not to tell anyone about these plans, so I felt a little awkward yesterday when I asked her sister if she’d left. “No. She’s at home. Where would she be leaving to go?” Later, Leata gave me a hurried explanation about her dad becoming Pulenu’u, and how she’d put plans off indefinitely. I like Leata a lot, but it made me sad.

The volleyball court was empty when I got off the bus yesterday. And the net was gone. The absence of the net was a little shocking too. We spent almost every afternoon last Fall gathered around the volleyball court, and with no net, the place seemed abandoned. Tafale and Tone invited me to walk to the next village over to watch the volleyball game there. When I asked what had happened to the Fausaga volleyball net, she shrugged.

There was another siva last night. When I attended the siva in February, there was a performance by a new local dance crew, the Vai Mai Boys. The VMB consisted of 5 solis I recognized from volleyball who had watched enough TV to choreograph a pretty good routine. At last night’s siva, the group was much bigger with about 15, and some of the original 5 had dropped. And that was only 4 weeks ago!

A different Laumatia was in town this week, and his presence was part of the reason for last night’s siva. When I was standing by the road wait for the bus this afternoon, he saw me and told me he was also going to Apia and said give me a ride. Which was awesome. He chatted me up on the way home. He owns a taxi service in Wellington, but plans on retiring in the next year and a half and moving back to Samoa. “This is freedom,” he kept saying.

So anyway, it’s difficult to say which changes are just going back to the way things were before Group 81 arrived, and which things are just the next step in Fausaga. But people were happy to see me, and as always, people I’d never seen before would call me by name and stop me on the road to say hello.

I hope people are saying hello to you. Pictures below. Happy birthday, Annie!
















The obligatory picture of Akanese and me.
















The baby has this sweet stroller where the seat can recline for a better sleeping position. There are airlines that should look into this.
















My remodeled fale.
















I brought fruit, a bottle of coke, and a couple bags of chips. So the fruit and the coke were neatly displayed next to my bed. Okay.

















Ioane during the siva. He's the nicest kid. And that's a grave behind him. It's pretty common for families to have a grave, or more likely graves, in their front yard. And it's common to sit or climb or run or play on them.
















Asolima did the Taupo dance. But I felt obligated to be the Manaia, which means you lay down on the floor in front of the Taupo to sort of grovel. So Asolima sat on me. And then she grabbed one of my legs and cradled it. The crowd ate it up.
















The VMB Dance Crew. Asolima and Tafale are not in the crew, but they found it hilarious to jump up and pretend like they knew the routine. It was amusing.
















I had dinner with Cale and Sara and Koa tonight, but I forgot my camera at the Peace Corps office. So I went back, and just as I got there, it started to rain. So I hung out. Composed the blog there. Saved it to my flash drive. And finally, I toughed it out umbrella-less through the rain... only to discover when I arrived home that I forgot my camera. Again. But I wanted to post pictures from the village. So I waited until the rain let up a bit and walked back to get my stupid camera. On the way home the second time, it started to rain hard again, and it wasn't until I was back at my school that I realized I should have brought my umbrella. And then camera's battery died when I was transferring pictures to my computer. So more village photos tomorrow.

Give Me Just a Little More

I from someone in the Peace Corps that transitioning into a new country is not nearly as difficult as re-accli- mating to the pace of American society, and for the most part, I find that to be true. I think my life is a lot slower here, and the idea of going faster than 50 mph is mindblowing. In the episode of “The Wire” that I watched last night, there was a Baja Fresh cup on the table at a meeting in the mayor’s office, and it made me shed a little tear (not really).

But there are some days in Samoa where the pace of life here becomes a little ridiculous. It all has to do with how things run minimally here because of the slow pace of life. Shops are closed on Saturday afternoons because people don’t shop on Saturday afternoons. But this creates a Saturday morning rush, and complicates things when you want to have a slow Saturday morning, and you realize that that’s the only sliver of weekend when you can really do any sort of shopping.

For me today, I am running around like a headless chicken because I am rushing off to the village, but I wanted to post a blog before I do that. The busses only run until about 5:00, and given my lap-sitting experience last month, I was really hoping to avoid the last bus, the pasi mulimuli. As soon as I get this thing posted, I have a good 20-minute walk into town to get to the bus stop, and if I want to pick up any food items to bring to my family, we can add another 15 minutes of shopping on to that. In short, I am low on time.

This isn’t completely my fault though. True, better planning (pre-writing the blog, packing in advance, blah blah blah) would have made this moment less stressful, but when have you ever known me to pack in advance? I had actually allotted myself much more time to blog and pack and run out the door, but 5th period this afternoon, the math teacher came to me with a thick packet of paper and asked if I could type up the year 11 midterm exam for the EFKS schools.

I don’t like typing things for staff. I’m a big fan of them typing it themselves. Yeah. I’m gonna pull out the “If I give you a fish, you eat for a day…” line.

But I hesitantly agreed in spite of myself. “Ummm… Sure. When do you need it by?”

“Today.”

It would be one thing if I had to type up another paper for someone’s son’s theology class (Yeah. I had to do that once. It was 8 pages of broken English about sin.), but this was a math test. Not only was it a math test, but it included fractions, algebra, graphing, and square roots.

Don’t get me wrong. I love fractions and algebra. Yes. During my free time at CNET, I would jump on the algebra section of Yahoo! Answers to do homework for lazy middle schoolers. I could do it all day, and I would have aced that test.

Microsoft Word, on the other hand, loathes fractions. And if you want your variables to be italicized, you’re in for a chore. And for some reason, the Drawing function in Microsoft Word is a lot more painful than I remember it.

In any case, 3 hours later, I had a 10-page math exam ready to go. Fully equipped with fractions, algebra, Cartesian planes, and (thankfully) one radical sign.

But now I am forced to BS my way through this blog post, and then awkwardly walk-sprint across Apia to catch the pasi mulimuli on which I will no doubt be obligated to sit on a dude’s lap for 2 hours of bumpiness.

So I suppose adapting to the fast pace of American life will be difficult, but occasionally things can be pressed for time here. And it sucks.

I hope you are managing your time better than I. One picture below.
















My pule looking like a Samoan newscaster.

Odds and Ends Thursday 6

With all the partying last weekend, I’ve spent the week recovering, and I have yet to be able to catch up on sleep. I feel like the last couple days have been one yawn after another, counting down to Saturday morning when I can sleep in. It seems somewhat appropriate to teach high school in this state of mind since it’s essentially the same way I carried myself during my own high school career. Here are some other odds and ends from the week:

• Last Wednesday at the Chargés’ house, a man visiting from the American embassy in New Zealand proposed a parlor game in which we were to figure out who the only non-American was in the group of guys from the U.S. Navy that were there that night. He claimed it would be easy. The second part of the game to figure out where the man was from. He said we’d be able to narrow it to 2 countries easily. None of us actually solved this riddle, and no solution was ever provided.
  
• I went to paddling last night with Jordan and a bunch of Australian volunteers. I wore my Obama t-shirt, and left it on the sea wall when we went paddling out. Everyone else wore t-shirts on the boat, but I hate wet clothes. But when we returned, my t-shirt was gone. Biking home half naked is worse than a wet t-shirt.
  
• My bedroom here is hot. There could be hurricane winds blowing through Samoa, and air still wouldn’t circulate in my bedroom. I took a nap in there on Tuesday, and even with the fan on, there’s nowhere for the air to go, and it really felt like I was in some sort of slow-cook oven.
  
• The first Common Assessment Test for my year 12 students is coming up on 7 April. The test will be a file management practical in which they’ll have to create sub-folders inside of folders and save text files in specific places. So we’ve been practicing for that all week. Yesterday Vincent finished his task very quickly, and his partner Ofisa started his turn. I turned away for maybe 20 seconds, and Ofisa was finished. When I asked how they’d done that so quickly, Vincent rubbed his hands together and said with smile, “Technology!”
  
• I’m not sure why, but at lunch today, the year 13 math teacher asked me how to simplify a problem that involved radicals being added in the added in the denominator. So I multiplied the top and bottom by the difference of the radicals to get difference of the squares in the denominator. Done and done. The teacher asked if I wanted to teach year 13 math. No. No I don’t.
  
• The students working in the kitchen during Interval on Tuesday noticed that I finished my muffin quickly. So they brought me another one. And I finished that one quickly too. So they brought me a third. It was AWESOME. This situation repeated itself on Wednesday. But then today I only got 2. Most of the other teachers decline any additional muffins. Whatev. I’ll be the fatty.
  
• I was going to give my year 12 and 13 classes their final test in Computer Theory today, but when I went to write the test last night, I looked at Dylan 78’s and Sara 79’s tests, and realized that my students would cry if I put that in front of them. So I moved the test to next week, and then I gave them a “quiz” with Sara/Dylan caliber questions, hoping they can step it up. My year 13s took it okay. My year 12s took turns giving me nasty looks for the entire 50-minute period.
  
• I’ve had Queen’s “Fat-Bottomed Girls” in my head for the last hour and a half.
  
• There was an earthquake somewhere in the ocean near Samoa this morning, and around 9:15, I got a call from the PC Medical Officer telling me that a tsunami warning was in effect and instructing me to ride my bike uphill. But my year 13s were in the middle of the killer test. So I told the PCMO I’d go after class. She said to text her when class ended. I told my students about the tsunami warning. It took a couple seconds for them to translate my words. And then there was brief alarm. But then I assured them things would be okay and they should continue working on the test. And then before I could ride my bike uphill, the tsunami warning was canceled. Done and done.

I hope you aren’t being canceled. Pictures below.

Update!: It turns out that earthquake struck near Tonga, which has been experiencing a lot of volcanic activity lately. The quake registered a 7.9 on the Richter Scale. Wowa. That's a big one! I would defend my ignorant bliss attitude from earlier today, but then I'd be on shaky ground. Get it? Ha.
















Stock image of the muffin and tea that we get during Interval. I could eat, like, 3 of them.
















This pregnancy test box was in the middle of my path on the way home from town the other day. I'm not sure why I was fascinated enough to take a picture, but I guess it's not every day that a pregnancy test lands in your path. Makes you wonder how it got there. But I do like that it was made in the USA.

Let's Chat

America Online made its first appearance in our house in 1994. I remember at the time I’d heard the catchphrase “chat room,” and the basic concept seemed easy enough to understand. You type, you wait, you read, you respond, you wait, etc. It’s one of those things were the user interface is so intuitive that it makes you wonder how this is any sort of technological advancement. Shouldn’t someone have thought of this years ago? I had a similar experience today with my year 12 and 13 classes.

Prior to today, I had used a function on NetOpps that made my computer screen appear on all of the students’ computers as the means for my year 12 quiz reviews. I would type a potential quiz question into notepad, and then they would have to write it down in their notebook, come up with the answer, and then raise their hand. The first group got a point, and we’d move on to the next question.

Today I was doing a quiz review with my year 13s, which is a much smaller class and playing large scale games feels unnecessary. So in adapting the game for them, I came up with the idea of opening a chat session, which NetOpps is also able to do.

Getting them to participate in the chat session was surprisingly difficult at first. I typed in the box first, and it appeared on their screens. Then I made Sinaumea do it, since he was sitting right next to me. But that was like pulling teeth.

“Type something in the box.” No response.

“Type something… like ‘Hello.’” No response.

“Anything. ‘Hello.’ ‘Mālō.’ Whatever you want. Type it in the box.” No response.

Finally I reached past him and typed it myself. Then I went to Tui, who was sitting next to him. She’s had computers before, and see was ready. She typed, “Hallo there!” By then, the ball was rolling and Kate and Marie were starting to get the gist of things.

So then I started typing in questions. It took about 2 questions. And then Pandora’s Box was open. It was like mid-1990s America Online all over again. It’s such a weird, exciting thing to type something and have it appear on everyone else’s screen.

My year 12 class was a little quicker to pick up on the concept, but the same Pandora’s Box thing happened again.

Marie in my year 13 class was the first to veer a little off task. She dipped her toes in the water of online inanity with succinct nonsensical statements like, “Pink bunny.” She’d type that in when everyone else was answering the question. And she had to know the rest of us would see it on our screens, but when I called her out, she got a look of satisfied surprise, as though up to that point she hadn’t believed the chat thing to be true.

Amanda, who is an overachiever in my year 12 class, stayed right on task. But there was an elevated level of tension and excitement. Amanda can get lost in the sea of other overachievers, but when her group was the first to respond correctly to a question, there was giddy, out-of-breath laughter. It was funny.

And then, of course, there were Matthew and Peresetene (funny that Matthew and Amanda are both in my year 12 and both were worth talking about today), who found it necessary to explore the boundaries of the chat room medium by sending swear words. I may not be up on all of my Samoan swear words, but I can recognize the basic ones. Nice try, kids. I’ll see you after class.

All in all, it was one of the more memorable days in my year 12 class. The only drawback is they aren’t copying the questions into their notebooks, so they have no way to study the questions after class. Oh well.

I hope you’re studying. Pictures below. Happy birthday, Juliana!
















Year 12 students sit 2 to a computer... So the system that most partners adapted to was one would do the typing while the other would look through notes and figure out what to type.
















These are year 13 students hanging out on my stoop in the middle of the day. I was on my way out to pick up my 11.4 class, and these goof balls are sitting around outside my door waiting for school to finish. Must be nice to not have anything to do.

O Fea Lou Teine?

“Where’s your girl?” In training, we were warned that we’d get this question often, and they were not joking. While I don’t get this question every day, I sometimes get it multiple times a day, so I’m going to say I answer this question about once a day on average. I get this question from my host family, from my pule, from other teachers, from shopkeepers in town, from passengers on the bus, from Peace Corps staff, and from whatever other random Samoan I bump into.

It seems to be the conversation starter of choice; a way to break the ice. And at times I feel like it’s the subsequent conversation when the cross-cultural connections are forged and reaffirmed. Whether or not the question is posed by someone I’m familiar with, the person has lobbed the ball of Samoan conversation over the plate, but the way I swing at the ball determines how it will be played.

The Ground Out

Weak responses yield weak conversation, the weakest of which is, “She’s in America.” You give that answer and you get a disappointed face. You were given a juicy opportunity, and you did nothing with it. The Samoan has little other choice but to respond with, “Oh.” You’ve killed the conversation, which may have been the objective, but in a boring and lazy manner.

The Fly Ball

Another response is “Leai se teine,” I have no girl. This response can be the equivalent of choking or a good sacrifice fly depending on how conversation goes after that. The Samoan is going to hurl it right back at you, “Why not?” If you shrug, you’re out. But if you come back with something matter-of-fact, and you say it in Samoan, the crowd cheers. “E tagata tele!” Too expensive! This results in a pleasant smile. Maybe even a laugh. Your runner on third just scored.

The Base Hit

The easiest way to hit the ball well is to explain exactly where you hypothetical teine is that prevents her from being present at the conversation. A small laugh and “E moe,” she’s sleeping, is a solid go-to. This will elicit a laugh followed by one or two follow up questions. “In your house?” “Oh yes. She sleeps too much.” This is gold. You’ll have them rolling on the floor.

The Homerun

The homerun is like the base hit except slightly more involved and also requires a bit more comic timing. “Leai to'atasi teine. E to'afitu teine… (pause pause)… Le Aso Sā, le Aso gafua, le Aso lua ….” That is, “I don’t have one girl. I have seven girls: one on Sunday, one on Monday one on Tuesday…” This one’s difficult to pull off because my Samoan isn’t that good. The little script above is a little incomplete. It requires gestures and intonation to really bring the joke home, so often, it’s not worth the effort. But when it works, it works well.

It seems like the rule is that the more outrageous my response, the better. Very rarely is the Samoan actually enquiring into my social life. It’s only a conversation starter, and if I can take their lob and hit it back with a joke, that’s sufficient. But even more than that, it’s a sort of social litmus test. Perhaps the ground out isn’t a big deal. But with the base hit comes feelings of good will.

So in the interest of public diplomacy, o fea lo’u teine? E moe lo'u teine i lo’u fale. E moe umi tele!

I hope you’re not sleeping too long. Pictures below. Hope you enjoyed St. Patrick’s Day.
















Police Awareness Programme this afternoon.





















I think these girls were crawling in order to hide from someone in the classroom, but it was bizarre so I took their picture. And then they were embarrassed and giggly.

I Get Around

I went surfing with Surfer Aaron about a month ago, and at the time, I was totally impressed by the beauty of that part of the island. Even more exciting was its proximity to Apia, and therefore to my house. In addition to its closeness, it is, of course, right on the ocean, so the path there is relatively flat and perfect for a bike ride. So I’d been itching to bike out there ever since, and finally Jordan, Blakey, and I did it yesterday afternoon.

We met up at the Peace Corps office at 4 p.m., and we headed out despite ominous clouds in the distance. The path was pretty flat. There were rolling hills to be expected, but nothing to steep—with the exception of one particularly abrupt downhill on the way out, which turned into one particularly steep uphill on the return, but all of us were able to handle it pretty well.

I think all of us were a bit surprised by the relative ease with which we could get to a part of the island that felt wholly different from Apia. After about a half hour of biking, things became quite green and rural.

It also become obvious early on that we had chosen an awkward time for the trip. Just as we were coming through rural villages on our bikes, people were heading down the street for afternoon church services in their Sunday best. This juxtaposition is awkward in American culture, but it can be downright rude in Samoan culture, and we were a bit uneasy about the whole thing.

The Samoans we saw along the way were pretty friendly though. Most smiled and offered a friendly, “Mālō.” We made a few stops along the way for water or to take photographs and occasionally we fell into longer conversations.

Time started to become an issue. The sun sets around 7:00 p.m., and by 5:30, we had made it to the destination village, Luatuanu’u, but not to the actual surfing spot. But the point of the trip had little to do with arriving at the specific destination, and none of us had a problem with forgoing the surfing spot in order to arrive home before dark.

And that was good because halfway home, it began to rain. I’ve noted this before, but you can literally hear the rain coming here. So when Jordan turned to me and said, “That’s rain a quarter-mile up,” I pulled over to the side of the road and stowed my camera in a plastic bag.

And it poured.

We stopped at a faleoloa for some temporary shelter, and when it died down to a steady sprinkle, we got back on the road.

It was a good, easy way to spend a Sunday afternoon, and I’d definitely do it again. Hell, I’d do it nearly any day of the week, it was so easy and accessible.

And then today…

I was at the Peace Corps office when Sara called and invited me to dinner. “Cale figured out how to make Gyros.” I was down.

The Peace Corps office is a ways from the bus stop though, but I did have my bike. So my original plan was to ride my bike to their house. There are a couple things that made this plan slightly undesirable:

1. Sara and Cale’s house is a fairly long ride from town;
   
2. It’s not good to ride a bike long distances after dark, so I’d probably need to get a taxi and pick up my bike from their house later.

I headed to the bank and then to the grocery store to pick up a bottle of wine, and on my way out, a bus for their village was pulling up to the stop. So I made a game-time decision and left my bike locked to the planter box in front of the grocery store. This seemed like a precarious arrangement, but it was easier logistically, and the timely arrival of the bus made it seem like fate was doing me a favor.

Cale’s gyros-from-scratch were fantastic. As was the conversation. I bought white wine by accident (damn you, poorly lit liquor section), but it was no big deal.

And then while I was standing on the road waiting for a taxi, one of Ryan 79’s tae kwon do students happened to be driving by and offered me a ride back to Apia. Bonus! So yeah. I get around.

Hope you do too. Pictures below.
















This pig was leisurely crossing the street. I had time to pull my camera out without coming to a full stop.





















The view from the spot where we stopped to turn around.
















If you look closely, you can kind of make out a rainbow in the upper left. It was cooler in person. You kinda had to be there.
















Waiting for the rain to pass.
















Cale's gyro and Greek potatoes.

Birthdays, Budgeting, and American Me

All of us in this picture had birthdays this week. Me (81), Christian (78), Benj (78), and Trent (80). And we all turned the same age. Really weird. Also weird is despite the constant gatherings of volunteers this weekend, the moment this picture was taken was the first and only time that the four of us were actually gathered in the same room. Part of the difficulty in assembling this group for a picture was that Benj was in Fiji until late yesterday afternoon.

In any case, confluence of 4 of us born within 8 days each other was cause for celebration, and with celebration comes spending money. Don’t get me wrong, other volunteers bought me drinks and stuff. There was an outpouring of generosity. But when everyone is working on the same shoestring budget, people can’t be expected to foot too many costs. And between meals, taxis, and a certain amount of celebration, life gets a little more expensive for the birthday boys too. At times like this, I like to call on my American counterpart, American Matthew.

As Samoan Matthew, I receive a monthly stipend from the Peace Corps, and I try and budget accordingly. But occasionally, American Matthew steps in to supplement certain expenses. American Matthew has very few living expenses. Since his existence is on hiatus for a couple years, he doesn’t have to pay rent or car insurance or phone bills. And even though he got laid off a year ago, he was able to get by on severance and such. So compared to Samoan Matthew, American Matthew is relatively wealthy.

But lucky for me, American Matthew is also generous. He pays my internet bills and most of my prepaid cell phone refills here in Samoa. And on special occasions, he does nice things. He took me out to dinner on my birthday. He bought the boxed wine for yesterday afternoon’s get-together.

Other Peace Corps are hesitant to rely on their American counterparts for any Samoan expenses. And I can understand that. Some people prefer to save that money or use it for traveling. The Peace Corps also frowns on using American money to pay for things. Volunteer stipends are calculated based on an annual cost-of-living survey, and volunteers are encouraged to live on the same economic level as a typical Samoan in the same position.

It would be inappropriate for me to get a big screen TV or an air-conditioner for my house or a car (Peace Corps aren’t allowed to drive anyway.). I think I follow this rule pretty well. I sewed my own curtains. I cook most of my own meals. I rarely take taxis anywhere. I only dip into rich American Matthew’s pockets for, like I said, internet bills, phone minutes, and special occasions.

And the weird thing is, Samoan Matthew actually saves enough money each month to cover all of these expenses. But American Matthew has a debit card and can therefore pay bills much more easily. It’s also nice for Samoan Matthew to have money saved in Tala for certain things (monthly variations in food spending, occasional large purchases, cash for stays in beach fales, etc.).

There’s a fine line that separates who pays for what, and Samoan Matthew sustains himself pretty well. And American Matthew is hesitant to pay for too much. But the 2 Matthews work it out. And in the end, everyone wins.

I hope you’re budgeting well. Pictures below.















You are all weirdos.
















Erin was among those hanging out at the Peace Corps office this morning.





















Peanut butter. The ones on the top shelf are 12 oz. for $8.40. The bottom shelf are 16.3 oz. for $8.55. Which is the better deal? Hmmm...





















This glove fell into this position by itself. Fight on.

Q&A: Phil, Supy, Blakey, Jordan

Lots of volunteers are in town for the weekend, and Supy, Phil, Blakey, and Jordan ended up at my house this afternoon. We drank wine and ate cheese and played Euchre all afternoon. At one point, Jordan and Blakey left to go to the store to buy bread for dinner. I needed to get going on today’s post, and I figured it was a good opportunity for a Q&A session with Phil and Supy. Here’s what was said:

MATT: So, what’s new?
PHIL: I bought a spear to go spear fishing. It’s the first thing that’s been actually exciting that I’ve wanted to do of my own accord in this country. Go spear fishing.
M: How much was it?
P: $133 WST. Tagata.
M: How about you, Supy?
SUPY: Not much is new with me. I am teaching that women’s committee class right now. It’s more work. I don’t want to feel more tied down to more work.
(Jordan and Blakey come in.)
JORDAN: What you writing down, buddy?
M: I’m doing a Q&A for the blog. How are things, Jordan?
J: Things are great.
BLAKEY: That’s a hard thing to answer in a cool way.
P: Supy and I managed.
B: I doubt it.
P: Matt can read it back for us.
J: Ask me a cooler a question. You can make up some answers for me if you want.
M: I don’t know. I feel like asking you how things are is the best way for you to take the conversation in some sort of direction.
J: Things are good. I like having people in town this weekend. We had 26 people in town this weekend for the party. It took 2 taxis. We had 3, 6, 9, 12 in each car. Plus me up front. Plus Dan and Erin. That’s 28.
B: I should call Erik to see how his party went. He has some books that I kind of want too. I don’t have his number.
M: How’s teaching?
J: See, that’s a good question.
B: I still feel pressured to answer this well.

(Long silence.)

P: I would say disappointing because I had to kick students out of class because they didn’t pay. And that sucks. Disappointing to deny someone the chance to learn. Because they don’t have 20 tala and that’s like $7 US.
J: 60 out of 80 failed my Microsoft Word test. Kinda makes you feel bad as a teacher.
S: Do they study?
J: Not really. Because grades don’t really mean anything. But I tried to tell them: this test is 20% of your PSSC grade and you have to do well on it to get do well at the end, and they just don’t care. The test was 6 pages of multiple questions. Questions like, “What is the formatting bar?”
B: I find that they move toolbars all the time on the computers. And I’m like, “You kids can’t double click, but you can move the toolbar all over the place? Weird.”
J: It’s just really upsetting that 60 of them – I got one person that got a 4.
S: How about the cheaters? They get zeros in my class, and the talkers get 1 point off every time they talk.
J: I’ve told them talking is cheating. And I’ve told them to bring one pen to class and not to use white out. None of this stupid perfectionism.
B: And they don’t call it white out either. They call it –
J: Twink!
P: It sounds like a euphemism for meth.
B: Maybe, but it’s kinda throws you off when someone asks you for a twink.
J: Or when they ask you for a rubber. It takes a beat before you realize that’s an eraser.
M: So what are you all doing tomorrow?
B: Not going to church.
J: Not going to church. Going on a bike ride.
B: Being asked why I didn’t go to church numerous times, and then eating some talo and going on a bike ride. Probably going to moe umi.
M: Moe what?
B: Moe umi. I speak in Samoan all the time. But not during class. Just to students and staff and teachers…
S: I’m going back to Savai’i.
P: I too am going back to Savai’i.
B: Are there busses to Manase on Sundays?
S: Yeah. There are busses on Sundays.
P: I’m going to not do anything because its Sunday.
B: Phil’s going fishing later!
P: Not on Sunday. But Monday, it’s on.
S: I get really tired after school.

(Long silence.)

S: I feel like tomorrow’s a waste of a day. Nothing to do except travel, right?
P: Yeah. Sleep late and then take the boat.
S: Maybe we should stay until Sunday and then take the first on Monday. But I’m not a fan of that boat.
P: I’m not a fan of either boat.
S: And sometimes the bus isn’t there.
P: So how did you get back? Did you get to school on time?
S: Yeah. I get there on time. School doesn’t start ‘til 8:15.
B: You don’t have staff meetings? We have staff meetings every morning.
J: Every morning?
B: Every morning.
J: We only have them once a week and no one ever goes.

(Long silence.)

J: I really want to drink ava out of my ava bowl.
S: It’s like $100 tala, no?
J: It’s like $500.
S: $500 tala?
J: It’s one of the big ones. It’s so nice. I sanded it down. (Looks at me) Can you put a shout out in there too? It’d be really funny if my sister-in-law read it and saw it. She’d get a huge kick out of it. Is there room for shout outs?
M: Sure.

(Long silence.)

S: What are you writing now?
M: What do you mean?
B: What does he mean?! What are you writing now?
M: Literally? What am I writing?
J: Yes! What are you writing right now?
M: Here. I’ll read it back.

(I read it back.)

M: Anything else?
B: I noticed you didn’t include what Phil said about journalistic integrity.
M: Yeah, well…

Happy birthday, Aunt Kelly! Haha.

That’s all for now. Hope your integrity is included. Pictures below.
















Take 2. This time without Phil blocking Supy.















Today was fantasy baseball draft with bonus Skyping at a Lavaspot location on Beach Road.















Phil's spear.
















The lizard in the bottom left of the picture hung out in the sink while I washed almost all the dishes this morning. It disappeared sometime around the spoons. I didn't see where it went.

Friday the 13s

I’ve made friends with the year 13 students on campus. I feel like they’ve been more welcoming and made me feel more at home than most of the teachers on staff. Perhaps it’s because we are closer in age or because I come baring technology or because I am the arbiter of said technology. But for whatever reason, the year 13 students are really nice.

Most of the student body is really nice. It’s impossible for me to walk the 50 yards from my door to the teacher’s lounge in the morning without getting at least 15 “Morning, Mista!”s. I think more of them would be more cordial if they could sustain a conversation in English for more than greeting formalities… Or if I could sustain a conversation in Samoan beyond “Mālō!”

In the Samoan school system, most students don’t make it past year 12. At our school, we have 5 classes of year 12 students; somewhere around 200 total. Yet we only have about 30 year 13 students. So in essence, the year 13s are the cream of the crop and the year 13 school year is somewhere in between a college prep year and the first year of college. This may explain the collegially academic atmosphere I talked about yesterday in the caption of the last picture.

And it really does feel like they’re in college. I helped put together the schedule, so I know they have classes, but often they hang out on the stoop of my classroom, looking through notes and looking longingly past me toward the computers in the lab. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I sometimes ask.

They look at me, shake their heads, and then look past me toward the computers again. Hint, hint.

I admit, it boosts my ego to be the popular guy on campus, even if it’s only because I have the coolest toys. And I see these kids so often, I know their names. I had my 11.3 class today, and I know none of their names (Yes. I’m embarrassed about this.). But I know Mira and Filifili very well even though they aren’t enrolled in any computer classes.

My hope is that their interest and knowledge of computers will osmote to the year 13s who are actually in my class because, truth be told, I’m a little frightened by the lack of skill in my class. They have a huge test in 6 months, and they are chillingly ragtag. Today I glossed over drag-and-drop, assuming it to be a simple maneuver, and that turned into a 20-minute tangent.

And students are trained to answer “Yes!” to questions here, whether they understand the question or not. So I’ll ask, “Does everybody understand?” And I get a spirited and immediate, “Yes!” Riiiight. I am not nearly as confident as they are.

But the fun part of that year 13 class is there are only 5 students. So it really does feel like we’re all just hanging out. Last Friday I got bored with teaching computers and we didn’t have enough time for new material anyway. So we had mental math races.

It’s not to the point that I feel like I can set them free on the computers and we can all just chill for an hour, but if I can find a mildly educational way to pass the time and have fun and feel casual, I’m all for it.

I hope you are having fun in a casually educational setting too. Pictures below.
















Sometimes the Mavis Beacon typing exercises are just odd. In the one above, it asks you to type, "calm carrots, cars, children, chocolate, contains cows, cream. d,h,l,;. dangerous." What is this diabolical list?
















My classroom sits on top of the Great Hall. So I hear kids practicing the Sasa dance, which we did in training. Kinda fun.
















I let my 11.3 class play TyperShark today. In the game, if you don't type the words or letters in time, the shark eats you (errr... the diver you embody on the screen). The kids find this hilarious and purposely start the game and press no keys, eagerly awaiting the shark attack. The best part, though, is when the game ends after the players 3rd death. A screen comes up saying, "Game over." And the three of them start calmly and politely applauding. Hilarious, and yet completely unproductive.

Odds and Ends Thursday 5

At the Chargés-Affaires’ house last night, a bunch of us were comparing notes on the weather, and we all agreed that the last couple weeks have seemed hotter than usual. Erin attributed the perception of heat to a lack of wind. And you know what else flares up besides the heat when there’s no wind? The flies and mosquitoes. Much easier to fly and bite when you don’t have to worry about air currents. Here are some other odds and ends from the week:

• Do you ever find it strange the things your brain remembers? During dinner tonight, I heard just a few of the opening chords, and I knew right away that the song was “Just a Gigolo” by Louis Prima. It was one of those out-of-mind experiences where by brain did a double take on itself. I was more weirded out that proud. How did I know that? Why did I know that?
  
• The printer in my computer lab is out of toner. I have no idea when it will be refilled. This is difficult for me. I don’t print much, but when I do print, I completely take it for granted that I can print. We ran out of toner on Tuesday morning, and I’ve sat down to type something or allowed someone else to type something at least 7 or 8 times before I remember that there’s no use in typing it up because we can’t print.
  
• During bike safety training, we were warned that dogs are a constant hazard and that they will chase you on your bike, and they often will bite if they catch you. Joey told us about a strategy in which you slow down while the dog is chasing you, and then take off as fast as you can. The change in speed confuses the dog and it will give up . Joey’s strategy TOTALLY WORKS.
  
• At the concert tonight, the bluegrass band talked about how they were greeted at the airport by a band of Samoans playing strings, and they were blown away by the vocal harmonies. They witnessed those harmonies again when a high school student body sang for them yesterday. I need to get one of those mp3 recording devices so I can post a sample here. It’s amazing.
  
• My favorite Louis Prima is his version of “Jump, Jive, and Wail,” which was prominently featured in a Gap advertisement back in the late 1990s. It was the “Everybody in Khakis” campaign where they used that still-spin effect (later made more popular by The Matrix franchise) with acrobatic swing dancers. It was a fascinating ad campaign illustrated by the fact that I remember it 10 years after the fact.
  
• I’ve heard some horror stories about the computer skills of school secretaries in Samoa, but mine seems pretty fluent. I typed up a job application for the son of one of the teachers, and we had to have the secretary print it because the toner’s out in the lab. I felt like a bit of a jerk trying to walk her through the printing process. She knew exactly what she was doing.
  
• Okay, I admit I’ve only implemented Joey’s strategy going downhill, but still, it works ridiculously well. In fact, I got it to work with 2 separate sets of dogs (they travel in herds) within the course of about 20 seconds this evening. I hate to anthropomorphize, but I swear the dogs already looked shocked when I hit the brakes, as though to ask, “That’s it? We’re done?” And then I took off again, and they completely gave up. “Screw it.”
  
• I’m not talking about having the kids at my school practice their harmony for a recording. I’m talking about any given moment. I swear I’m not exaggerating that if you walked down the street and picked 2 random males and 2 random females, more often than not, the 4 would have gorgeous harmonics with absolutely no rehearsal.
  
• It was just before Gap switched gears slightly with the string of arguably iconic ads where Gen-Xers sang songs and looked apathetic. The 3 I remember were the “Dress You Up in My Love,” “Just Can’t Get Enough,” and “Mellow Yellow” ads. Perhaps I watched too much TV back then, but I was a teenage male—the key demographic—and Gap ads were ubiquitous in my TV habits.
  
• I can’t figure out how we can be out of toner. We’re only 2 months into the school year. But the fact that it actually has been quite an issue in the 3 days since we’ve run out of toner, it’s clear that we do a lot of printing. I’m going to start charging students when/if we ever get new toner: 10 sene per page if you print, 50 sene per page to make a photocopy.
  
• I admit the downhill worked well because gravity assists in the accelerating part of the trick. I am a bit nervous to try it on flat ground, but the only reason I haven’t tried it yet is because the situation hasn’t arisen.
  
• They were iconic enough that the water polo team did its own parody of the ads with “Everybody in Speedos.” That was gold. I still have the VHS somewhere.
  
• Happy birthday, Margarita!
  
• The bluegrass band played a Paul Simon cover tonight, “Gone at Last” from Still Crazy After All These Years. The guy introduced the song by saying, “Those of you who know Paul Simon know he’s awesome, and those of you who don’t know Paul Simon are awesome too because you have something great to look forward to.”
  

That’s all I got. Hope you’re awesome. Pictures below.
















The bluegrass band, Student Loan. In addition to the Paul Simon cover, they did 2 Beatles songs. It was good.
















Me and one of the year 13 students. I admit I don't know her name. It sounds like Tsetse, which would be a bad-ass name on account of the poisonous insects, but I don't think that's actually how she spells it.
















This was my favourite part of the day today, I think. Today was Sports Day, which meant that about half the school left to go play rugby or netball. The last 2 classes of the day were canceled for the students who stuck around. Someone set up the volleyball net, and teachers and students played pick-up games. It felt more like the casual educational environment of a university rather than the ultra-defined student/teacher roles of American secondary schools.

Live Music? In Samoa? Mooooooooooo.

Mel Blanc used to do the voiceover for the Berkeley Farms radio ads, and I find myself in the same awe. Twice in as many nights I have gone to see live bands play real music in and around Apia. Either one of these bands would be a special occasion, but twice in two days seems excessive. Shouldn’t we be rationing this stuff?

Once again, I was at McDonald’s when I got the call from Erik yesterday afternoon. “What are you doing tonight?” He asked in a tone that implied the world might be imploding.

“I got nothing.” I replied.

“There’s a German band that’s going to be playing live tonight at the Rainforest Café.”

I should let it be known that the Rainforest Café in Apia is NOT a part of the Rainforest Café chain at where we went for Jenny Schwartzkopf’s 21st birthday. Rather, it’s an independent, upscale restaurant on the shores of Apia Harbour (Yeah. I said Harbour.). So I went.

In English, the name of the band was The Busker Princess and the City Pirates. In German it was Die Kleingeldprinzessin und die Stadtpiraten, which is pretty hardcore as far as German goes. In any case, I showed up and they were fantastic. By my calculations, if you add Jen and Derek plus Nena plus Manu Chao and throw in just a pinch of Nico, you get Die Kleingeldprinzessin, Dota Kehr.

I might add that she had a certain way of making contact with the audience that was a bit reminiscent of Marie De Salle. In any case, they billed themselves as “an original combination of German lyrics and Bossa Nova/Pocket-Swing sound.”

It was like absolutely nothing that I’ve heard live in the past 5+ months; i.e. brilliant.

***

Tonight was a completely different beast. A bluegrass quartet from Bowling Green, OH had been commissioned by the Kennedy Center to come and do 35 days of music and music education in the South Pacific. They are playing a concert on Thursday night, but the Peace Corps and some other Americans had the pleasure to share dinner and a sneak preview at the Chargés-Affaires’ house this evening.

I admit, the bulk of the evening was eating the caterered dinner (In which I am ready and able to participate at a moment’s notice.). It is always nice and rare to chat with Americans who are passing through. And in addition to the 4-piece band, who were really fun to talk to, we had about 15 seamen from the U.S. Navy who also happen to be in town.

So we ate and chatted about our disparate challenges in the workplace and smiled at each other as best we could. And then it was time for the band to play.

They only played 2 songs, but you hear 10 seconds of bluegrass, and for a moment, you’re not in Samoa anymore, Toto. Over that rainbow you fly, fully aware of the dessert of vanilla ice cream and strawberry jam that tastes just like crunchberries.

And for a moment, you’re there. In America. At the nightclub. Thinking you’ll order a Pabst for your next round, just to change it up. The harmony setting the tone, the chord changes so familiar, the halogen lighting just right. And there you are, caught in a dream, not wanting it to end, and heading back down to earth all at the same time.
















Juice next to boxed wine, which would have absolutely tortured Buster Bluth.
















The Student Loan. The bluegrass band who we all came to see.
















Naval officers who were there to judge?

Antisocial Promotion

In the aftermath of Michael Richards’ stand-up comedy outburst a couple years back, I remember reading an article that speculated that part of the reason he wasn’t able to deal with the heckler more gracefully was that he was an actor by trade, not a comedian. Though the two positions can be very closely related, there are clear distinctions between the two, and while conventional wisdom allows the two jobs to become interchangeable, the industry should be more weary of those who try the crossover.

This inappropriate mix of roles pops up in a lot of industries. When I was promoted from Account Coordinator to Account Manager at CNET, my roles were vastly different, and I don’t know that excelling at the former translated to much of any success in the latter. And I ended up being laid off in the AM role, so take that for what you will.

Anyway, another crossover that I’ve never fully understood is education. I understand that it’s good for administrators to have teaching experience so they can better empathize with their charges, but it seems to me that succeeding at one does not translate to being effective at the other.

That seemed to be the case today at the Samoan Ministry of Education, Sports and Culture’s New Teacher Meeting. The woman who led the meeting oozed an authoritarian air that was probably effective with fifth graders back in the day, but seemed out of place at our meeting.

She started off the meeting by going down a list of rules. “Attendance. We usually have a lot of people at these things in the morning, and then less after tea, and then even less after lunch. It is very important that you are here the entire day.”

Everything was said sternly with not even a hint of conviviality or camaraderie. “Our tea break is 30 minutes. It begins at 10:20 and ends at 10:50. You should be back in your seat by 10:50.” It was the kind of tone that eCivis would take: condescending and demeaning.

And then it got outright ridiculous. “Toilet tissues. We only brought 2 rolls so please only wipe so there will be enough for everyone else.” Dead serious. Direct quote. I heard it, found it hilarious, and wrote it down immediately because I wanted to be sure to remember. Micro-managing the Charmin. Wowa.

Later, when another of the facilitators asked for volunteers to participate in a short activity and got few hands, Ms. Whipple grabbed the microphone and said in that same disciplinarian tone, “This is not a sleeping hall. Please sit up and pay attention.” Way to inspire participation, Debbie Downer.

I’m being hard on this lady, but I should point out that I had the same experiences in Oakland. The women who ran the Teaching Fellows program were awe-inspiring from a teaching standpoint. But when it came to managing subordinates, they could not discern us from the eighth graders they used to know.

Some teachers make great administrators. My Pule here is well-loved by the staff, much because of his background in the classroom. Even my principal in Oakland, flawed as she was, was at her best when she could identify with me because of her own experiences. But some just don’t know how to carry it when working with other adults.

I hope you are using as much TP as you need. One picture below.
















Koa and Jordan volunteered. They had to choose the next "Ms. Samoa" from the audience of teachers and explain why they chose that particular woman. The exercise illustrated how each of us has different criteria and it is inherently difficult to find a common grading system. It was funny and meaningful.