English Language Learning as Product or Service?

Have you ever thought of language learning as a "product"? I  never had until recently. I'm not that well-read in education terminology, but I'd think of language learning as more of a service rendered than a product delivered. Of course, I don't associate teaching English with making money, either, but I'm only just learning about how big such an industry is, especially in places where knowing English as a second (or third or fourth) language can be the difference between a not-so-good job and a better job.

But about products and services.

Products are a one-stop answer. Moisturizer. Car wax. Bug spray.

Services seem to imply relationship. House cleaning. (I'll come to your house, check it out, give you a price and if I do a good job, you'll hire me again). Computer updates and repairs...checking, assessing, making adjustments... In short, with a service there is an expectation of dialogue (How many times a week? What seems to be the problem? Has it happened before?) Possibly even some kind of analysis in order to provide a better, more complete remedy.

It's taken me too long to figure this out, but while I don't agree with everything Michelle Kelly-Irving says, this article helped a bit and at least made me realize that I may not be jumping to too many conclusions. Her argument is basically that requiring English to be the language of academic writing has "downsides...that affect knowledge, science, policy and ultimately human thinking. This imposition of English upon the rest of the world, as well as being imperialism on a global scale, is also a form of cultural, and maybe even cognitive hegemony...".

At first, I disagreed vehemently with her assertions, but as I thought about it more, she does make at least one valid point. Speaking English in many countries is not the romanticized notion of "being one" with a world community, sharing and contributing ideas, or embarking on an empowered adventure of life-long learning; but possibly a feather in the cap of status and exaggerated sense of "betterness", if you will. I often see it on Facebook - heavy or potentially contentious conversations in Indonesian will be interrupted by someone using English that is usually constructed in such a way as to demean, ridicule, or "put another" in their place". I've also noticed that for quite a few, passing the TOEFL or IELTS test in order to study abroad is often not to learn, empower those at home and contribute to the universe of ideas, but as a means to gain a promotion or more posh position...sometimes even just to get away from it all.

The status associated with English speaking ability would be easy to blow it off as yet another vestige of a colonial past, but as the famous Indonesian author, Pramoedia Ananta Toer, put in the mouth of one of his characters, the Dutch were successful here because all they had to do was to tap into an existing social order, or hierarchy. Not quite a caste system, but it exists and is pretty obvious to a Southern American who grew up with something quite similar. People have a place and there are countless mechanisms to make sure it stays that way.

It's tiresome and as an English teacher with a conscience, I can't justify teaching skills that are often used in ways that further class divisions, put down rather than raise up, make money for someone with no real concern that students achieve a holistic mastery of the language, and that even promote "snootiness".

Teaching English can be a big business here. Of course, in order for that to happen, one needs to teach English as if it were some kind of product rather than a service; a package with materials and number of lessons. Services can include product, for sure, but a product without service and a commitment to building a culture of learning is nothing of true value.

Services empower and build relationship. Products will always need another application as soon as the first wears off. Services engage, build relationship and can build a foundation for life-long learning for all involved. Marketing English language learning as a product to be sold and bought is an affront to true education, an ineffective tool for true comprehension and objectifies one of the most versatile, powerful and beautiful languages in the world.

I want to teach English, but more than that, I want to inspire minds to use English in ways that truly empower, allow soulful reflection and develop an ability to make a contribution, contextualized and powerful,  to the global library of ideas.

There are so many amazing teachers here - they love the students and want to see them succeed - as learners, as educated people, as assets to themselves and their communities.

Being a native English speaker has its perks, but I'm not interested in using that to make a buck, but to make a difference. I want to empower people to use English. I want to make connections, build a conducive environment for teachers to do what they do best and for anybody who wants to learn to be able to learn.

I don't want people to think like me, but I do want people to think...and if they choose, to use English to express their thoughts in ways that inspire, inform, and empower others.

That doesn't sound like a product to me, but I do believe that it can be a service. And a good one, at that.

A Privileged Position, Revisited

This post from "Brainpickings" is a bit more detailed than necessary for my immediate purposes, but I did borrow this image from there and it is quite appropriate for what I'd like to share today.

I want to talk about privilege again because it is damn tiresome. It's a blessing, a burden, and something that I've always wished I could ignore, but can't.

Privilege can have many forms. The most obvious to many of us is White privilege associated with institutionalized racism, but I think there are more kinds in addition to that one; being an American, having a job, owning a house, being a part of the majority group (whatever/wherever that may be), and of course, having lots of money. 

I don't remember exactly when I first became aware of privilege. I'm sure it was when I was very young, though. Maybe it was that my mother could pick me up from school every day in a car or that my family always had enough to eat. Maybe it was our house, our activities, or our opportunities. As long as you're with others who have the same, it's not very obvious. It's normal. But when you're out of context; in a diverse school, on your own, or in another country, it becomes very obvious to anyone who is paying attention.

When I was in 6th grade, there was an assembly to welcome the new members to the Beta Club, a group of students who had achieved a certain (high) GPA. I hunkered down in my seat, embarrassed. I knew my name wouldn't be called. My grades were horrible. I knew that I had dropped the ball and that I could do better.

Imagine my shock when I was called to the stage. 

That was one of the first instances of privilege I recall. Apparently it was not only embarrassing for me, but for the school who would let the upper middle class white girl with a stay at home mom and banker father fall through the cracks so horribly. 

I'm sure I asked about it - was likely shut down - continued to make bad grades...and continued to be a member of the Beta Club. Even becoming Vice President, Secretary or Treasurer, I can't remember now.

Instead of being grateful for such things, I continued to make bad grades, rebel and speak out, often arguing in class and passionately asking questions that made everybody uncomfortable. 

I guess the reason I want to talk about this is because it's a system. It's maintaining the status quo. It's the way. And it's truly not fair. 

By the time I got to high school, unearned privileges like Beta Club membership ceased to exist, but there were other things happening then. There were the girls who were pregnant and enjoyed cover from the administration to deal with their conditions and decisions whilst maintaining a bit of dignity, and there were the girls who didn't. I hope that I don't need to tell you who benefited and who did not. If you're unsure, please review the 3rd paragraph and note the most obvious kind of privilege.

I just shared those recollections to note that if we pay attention, privilege isn't something dark and sneaky. It's right there in the open.

As an American living abroad, I now understand a different kind of privilege. Anytime anything happens that doesn't suit us, we get homesick or something goes wrong, we can just pack our bags and go home. No commitment, no suffering or prolonged heartache, no repercussions for our actions...we just go home. That's nice, I think, but it also causes problems. Remember when we were kids and there was always the one who would get mad, pick up their toys and go home? Maybe they didn't want to share, be told what to do, or even eat what your Mom had made for dinner, but they could just go home. As you get older, you know the kids who play that way and you treat them accordingly. Either the kid changes or eventually you'll stop playing with them. People don't want to get too involved with anybody that will just pick up and leave whenever they don't get their way. That's what it's like as an American abroad. We can just go home when things aren't going to suit us. There's no need to really try to build relationship, no need to try to make a "real" life - we can always go back to a "real" life when we're finished playing.

Don't get me wrong, the ability to go "home" is a blessing and I'm grateful for that, but I don't think that it should be used as a crutch to escape situations that may be uncomfortable or ones in which we're not getting our way. Going home whenever we get our nose out of joint or to escape is unfair and unfortunate for a couple of reasons. First of all, it treats other places and people as objects for fun and convenience. As soon as things get serious or we hit a bump in the road, we bolt. It's rather exploitative and disrespectful. It means the people with whom you've been building a life are only conveniences to be left as necessary. This leads into number two. By running "home" at every possible opportunity, we often have to leave the people in our lives who should come with us, even for a short visit. See, for US citizens, we can go pretty much wherever we want. Few countries require visas prior to arrival, we can get the proper stamps at the airport and be on our happy way. People in other countries don't have that freedom. There are restrictions galore preventing people from other countries (especially developing countries or countries with non-Christian majorities) from entering the US, even for a short visit. It just doesn't seem fair.

I haven't been home in 3 years. Of course I miss my daughter, my family and my friends. I also miss BBQ, Southern food and good pizza. I can't go home yet. I'm not playing. I didn't come here to have fun and go snorkeling, jet setting here and there, or to take advantage of the kind of lifestyle an American salary affords here. I didn't leave all that was, and remains to be, precious to me to play. Besides that, I haven't had an American salary, or any salary, for over a year. I don't have money to run around as I might like, but I have enough for now.

I know that shocks people. It shocks people at home and here, as well. An American who doesn't run home as soon as things aren't going her way? 

Things aren't going the way they were, but that doesn't mean that they're not good. In some ways, yes, harder, but also more worthwhile. I sleep better. More meaningful, intentional and honest? Yes. 

I'm aware of my privilege, but I'm also aware that I am not my privilege. I am Charlotte. And as usual, I'm just doing the best I can. 

Why Read? The Multifaceted Dimensions of Linguistics and Literature (Conference)

Earlier this week, I had the opportunity to share at an international conference held at Maulana Malik Ibrahim State Islamic Univeristy in Malang. As many know, I am a BIG promoter of reading. Reading rules. Reading can be incorporated into any aspect of English as a Second Language (ESL) lesson planning.  I've enjoyed watching students learn to embrace reading - either as something fun, inspiring and enlightening or as a more pleasant way to study their English. Reading is fundamental. Spread the love!

This is a part of the organizing committee. They did an absolutely stellar job!

Pleasant to walk on this campus...

Some cute students that wanted to play a bit - awesome!

Lots of places to park that leave lots of places for walking unhindered

There were four plenary speakers and it was hard for me to contain my enthusiasm as two of them promoted student-centered learning and student empowerment. Yes! The other two were engaging as they mixed Bahasa Indonesian and Javanese with English in order to drive their messages home.

I attended additional sessions and was enriched and inspired by what I heard and saw.  So many smart and creative people!

I'm thankful for every opportunity to share and to learn, as well.

Knowledge may be power, but empowerment creates knowledge. I love doing all I can to empower, inspire and equip those who want to learn, and master, English.

Self-Righteous Indignation, Judgment and "The Struggle"

“You can safely assume that you've created God in your own image 

when it turns out that 

God hates all the same people you do.”

Anne Lamott

I believe that I've read somewhere that one should always struggle with their faith. Maybe I just think I read that because I want to believe that my struggle is justified. My faith, however, is never the struggle, but the way in which I'm supposed to operate in the world as a Christian? That's a big, endless struggle...

At first I didn't want to write about this because it seems negative. At least to my friends and family, I've shared how I've finally found a church that makes me happy and I can feel the love of God in the people and within the walls of the sanctuary. This is NOT about the church I attend or the people there. This is about what to do with ourselves when we are diametrically opposed to what another Christian presents and believes. 

Churches here are different. Coming from a background in which being Christian is (or at least, was) commonplace and is reflected in myriad aspects of cultural life, it's really different to experience Christianity in a way that  oftentimes seems to continue the traditions brought by "Western" missionaries from another time and place. I have trouble witnessing the perpetuation of an exclusionary superiority that presents itself in a heavy handed delivery of judgement, as well as an immutable concept of good/bad and right/wrong. Of course this happens in the US, too, but we have choices there. Different denominations, different churches, everything. The common thread of churches here, unfortunately, is that there isn't much diversity. In a communal culture, maybe, the majority rules and minority opinions are often silenced. The conservative/progressive discourse is happening here, but the progressive voice is not the one with power right now. This may not be evident, at first, but based on some things I've experienced and have also learned about, it's an unfortunate norm, rather than an exception, in many churches. I would also like to add that Christians in the US are currently fighting about what it means to be a Christian and that no group of people anywhere is ever immune to the fallout from people behaving like people like to behave. What happened today is of course based on interpretation that can be simplified into a conservative/progressive dichotomy, but I think it's more representative of something else. 

It's a reminder to us all that being a part of the Body doesn't mean that we're always going to agree...even if the disagreement is based on behavior that is colored by a self-righteous, angry, distortion of what it means to be a follower of Christ. 

That being said, especially with the judgement-laden terminology I chose to employ, I feel certain that many "self-righteous, angry, distorters" think equally harshly of those of us with a more progressive, Christ-centered perspective, and love-based religion. 

I'm aware that I chose to use judgement-laden words...that's a part of my point. We all judge. Those filled with hell fire and damnation are as sure of their words as I am of mine.

One of the main differences in the Reformed church here and the one with which I'm most familiar, the Presbyterian Church (USA), is that Elders here often give sermons.  They can even choose from a book of prepared sermons if they don't have time to create their own. 

I guess that's refreshing on one hand - distribution of power, new perspectives, and possibly giving the "real" pastor a break (but not really, pastors here often have to serve multiple congregations, so our pastor is serving another church when he's not delivering the sermon at our church). But on the other hand, it can promote a relatively untrained and self-serving finger-pointer into a supreme vantage point for pulling their self-righteous trigger. I guess I've experienced the origin of the term "bully pulpit"...

I served as an Elder and for me, it's about serving the congregation and rising above myself; my baseness, my agenda and my opinions. I never thought that I knew more than other congregants or was more worthy or righteous, I just felt called to serve and did.

At the English-speaking congregation in Jogja where I often attended services, I was invited to share some thoughts, reflections really, a couple of times.  It was always scary for me. Not because I didn't know what I was going to talk about and not even because I doubted what I wanted to say, but because who am I to get in front of people and talk about a relationship with God?  Who is anybody, for that matter?

Those without "real" theological training, Elder or not, giving sermons is problematical for me because  it's very easy to take things out of context, miss the big picture, and spread personal agendas using scripture as justification for such. Of course, "real" pastors can do and do the same, but there seems to be at least a semblance of theological integrity at stake for them, less so for others. 

This isn't as much of a problem for me if the person discloses that they have no theology degree and they talk about love, service and how to follow Christ...namely because I'd likely agree with them. But when "those others" deliver a message that allows them the position of judge, jury, and God's personal hit man, I get a bit uncomfortable. Angry, even.

And here's the struggle.

I used to accompany my Grandmother to her church. It was a different denomination from mine that is well known in the South and often, unfortunately contributes to the idea that the South is full of religious bigots and haters.

A part of my "home training" is to pay attention to the sermon. Listen attentively. Don't go to sleep, don't talk and don't play with other materials, books, or any similar distraction. My Grandmother often used to read the Bible during the service and I think I know why. When I would be so enraged that I felt the need to walk out, she'd be sitting peacefully reading her Bible.

I guess that's why she never absorbed the message of hate and judgement that seemed to flow freely from the pulpit. 

Why did she attend a church in which she didn't even half listen to the sermon? I guess it was about community, about being a part of the Body of Christ, being with her friends, and maybe of showing her commitment to being a good Christian who goes to church.

Meanwhile, I'm sitting there trying to figure out if I should stay or go. 

I always stayed. I'd never embarrass her that way, but it was hard. 

Today I had the same feeling. I wanted to walk out. It's only happened to me about 4 or 5 times in my life, but when it happens, I am ready to hit the door. Today, as always, I did not.

Not because the message wasn't dumbed-down and oversimplified. Not because I agreed with what he was saying. Not because he didn't twist and turn the Word of God into his own small, hateful worldview. Even though he seemed to be experiencing some orgasmic manifestation of self-righteous superiority by spewing vitriol and judgement from the pulpit, I stayed.

I didn't walk out because I was struggling with how we as Christians are supposed to treat people with whom we disagree. Walking out is the kindest thing I could have done. Truth be told, I wanted to yank him down and smack his face for being so damn hateful. 

But then wouldn't I be just like him?

I often wonder whether I've twisted the notion of God's message of love through Christ into something easy for me to digest. 

It doesn't seem to be natural to be so comfortable with my relationship with God. So maybe I'm just like him, but on the other side of the fence.

Today I asked myself how my faith challenges me. 

Every time I'm able to keep my mouth shut, every time I don't give in to base acts of violence and every time I don't spew judgmental hate right back at the right wing haters that seem so comfortable doing the same, I'm challenged and struggling. 

I'm not a sweet tempered, passive person. I'm a fighter. I love action movies and I've always enjoyed a good argument.

But when I can rein all that in, control myself and try to be more loving, understanding, and patient, I'm trying to live my faith.

I guess we all are - I hope we all are. 

Meanwhile, I'll just sit and read my Bible.

Where is Home?

Last week I sold my house.

Built in 1948 and continually in need of cost-prohibitive maintenance, especially in the later years, I was happy to have the burden of a mortgage off my back.

At the same time, however, it was my home. My place. My refuge. My address. My stability.

It's gone now and I'm thankful, but now I wonder...where is home?

I've lived in Indonesia for almost 3 years, but I don't own a home (foreigners aren't legally allowed to own property...a good idea, I must say, based on the colonial past of this country). 

Charlotte, NC will always be my home. I was born there and I love it. 

When I was 3, my family moved from there to the "town where I grew up". Decidedly NOT my home. 

And here I am now. "The place where I live". But is it home?

If I follow the line of reasoning that says the place where you own property is home, then what about all the people in the world who rent? Have they no home either?

I don't think so.

I decided that I have many homes. If my home is where MY heart is, then my home is wherever my daughter happens to be. My home is also where my mother is, and even where my dearest and closest friends are. My memories may be in Elkin, NC, or in the NC mountains, or even along the coasts of North and South Carolina, but those places aren't home. I am sad to say that the city and neighborhood where I spent the happiest years of my life are no longer my home, either. 

I once worked for someone who told me that he'd never before met anyone as willing and committed to growing as I am. He was right; I will push myself and I will do all I can to grow into the person I should be. It's not easy, and it's certainly not easy right now as I ponder the meaning of home, roots, stability, and even purpose. 

The culture that nurtured me and formed my belief systems is like other places now, a memory. Now I have to consider what to keep and what to let go, what's valuable and what holds me back. 

While the places I've loved are memories, my home will always be where my heart is. And my heart is with many wonderful people, even within me.

I thank God for the love that will always make a place for me and will always provide my home. 

500 Words a Day (4)

This is supposed to be a stream of consciousness writing exercise for me, but today I actually have something to say.

For about a week and a half, I had taken on the responsibility of caring for 4 abandoned, feral kittens. I knew that the likelihood of their survival without their cat mom was next to nothing. I knew, for the most part, that it would be a futile effort,  but what to do?

The caretaker of the property where I live knows I like cats. He knew that 4 had recently been abandoned by the mother. A little sweet black one was chosen for me.

That night, holding the kitten and searching Google for information, I decided that there was no way that kitten would survive alone. Maybe with its brothers and sisters it had a better chance of survival. Maybe the mother would return.

We took the cat back less than 2 hours later to rejoin its siblings. The kittens were rolling around in the carport of a temporarily unoccupied house. It was COLD. The 3 of them were separated and crying in the dark. One lay weakly in the track where the gate slides. Not a safe place at all.

After climbing around the bushes and the gate, I collected the kittens and sat with them while Tatok went to get a shoe box. When he returned with the shoe box, we put them inside and put them in a place away from the wind where hopefully their mom would hear their cries and return. To entice her, we brought some milk and soft cat food to put outside the box.

The next afternoon while walking our dog, we passed the house and heard the cries. The owners had returned and taken the box of kittens, as well as the dishes of untouched food, and put them in front of the trash bin.

We looked and all 4 were there; crying and pitiful. What could I do? I had to take them home and try my best.

The precious four in the beginning

Maybe I'm a bit unrealistic (NO LAUGHING!), but I tried as hard as I could to keep them alive. Three times we rubbed and loved the breath back for 3 of the 4. The two weakest ones lasted only a few days. My little black one died peacefully yesterday; even after a trip to the vet, special formula offered every 2 hours and a souped up sleeping area. Today the strongest of the four fell. He gasped for breath, he panted, even though he felt too hot, and the vet said his temperature had plummeted.  He died in my hands, held close to my chest on the way home from the vet.

Last night when he was beginning to slow down...

I'm notoriously hard on myself. Knowing that, I did everything I could to keep these babies going. I set the alarm clock to wake me nightly for feedings. We put a lamp over a cushy box for them to sleep. We took them to the vet. We kept them warm, fed them and loved them. 

Without the antibodies from the nutrient-rich mother's milk, however, little kittens barely have a chance. And even though I have had cats and kittens my entire life, I've never had any so young and fragile.

It's really hard knowing what to do in such situations. Should I have left those kittens there in front of the trash bin? Maybe, even after all that time, their mother would find them and take them elsewhere, or maybe someone else would collect them. Or maybe they would die in that box in the looming cold, dark night. 

When my sweet cat Kartini died (today at the vet we mentioned it and it sounds like it could have been a neuro-toxin used in rat poison) (Disclosure - this part is based on my experience where I lived at the time. It is not applicable to my current city) I really wondered why one should even bother to love an animal in such a hostile environment. I had heard the stories of dogs being poisoned, seriously toxic rat poison is readily available and regularly used - animals were just animals. It your pet died, you just get another. It's simple.

But it's not.

For American people, pets are like family. Some may argue even better - but animals are a part of our lives and we love them. We cry when they die and we mourn the loss.

So why did I collect those 4 babies?

I learned that when Raden Jinjibu Kartini died that we have at least two choices. We can close our hearts and not subject ourselves to the possible hurt of losing such a fragile gift or we can open our hearts and give them as much love as we can, fully knowing that our time together may be short.

So, those are the options. Protect yourself and your feelings. Keep your love to yourself...or open your heart. Let it hurt - be vulnerable, but enjoy the life and love of your pet. Take a risk. Maybe they'll make it. Maybe they'll live a long life. You'll never know unless you put yourself, and your heart, out there. When and if it's time for them to go, you know that you've done your best and given it your all. Rather than dying alone in a cold box on a curb somewhere, they can die with love in their hearts and hopefully, with a bit of peace and dignity.

500 Words a Day (3)

I was busy writing yesterday. Even wrote a real blog post, but only because I was inspired to do so. I'm still sticking to my 500 a day.

Yesterday after I wrote the one about sacrifice I was taught a bit about 3 kinds of sacrifice considered in theology circles. Atonement (seeking forgiveness through action), Scapegoating (blaming 1 entity for all the problems in society thereby relieving the society of any real responsibility to remedy the problems) and Swtiching (taking on the suffering of another as a kind of martyr)

I don't know if I got it right, but that's what I remember of that discussion. I'm not a doctoral student in Religious Studies, after all. I'm just a regular Christian struggling with how to be a good one. That's all.

Speaking of being a good Christian, the blog I wrote yesterday was in response to to 2 posts I saw on Facebook. One with 10 reasons not to become a missionary and the other was a short video expressing outrage over the mission work in Uganda promoting intolerance and even hate. My father used to say I was jaded. I guess I am. Not much surprises me anymore.

Well, I take that back. I am surprised when someone I thought was different completely fooled me. I always thought I was a good judge of character. One thing about trying to be less judgmental, though, is that judging someone's character is one of the "judge-y" things we have to lose. And that opens us up to surprises, both good and bad, so in the end, it's worth it.

I'm surprised at what's happening in my country, but I guess the good thing is that it yanks the stool of perceived moral high ground out from underneath me. I used to think America had it going on, if we were on the wrong path, I believed we'd be straightened out. I believed in our processes. Or at least our people. I guess we're like any other developing country now. Or maybe...let me think...what's that saying? Having money doesn't mean you have class. Yes. Like that. Sickening.

I think Oscar Wilde said that America is the only country that transitioned from barbarism to decadence with no civilizing in the middle. How astute!

I love my country. I always will. I don't love it for what it is or even what it was, but I love it for what it can be. The foundation is there, even though sledgehammers and dynamite have weakened it. Our multiracial society of immigrants and dreamers is there. The dream is there.

And so is the fight.

Michael Jackson said "I'm a lover not a fighter". I used to like a good fight, or argument rather, but nowadays, I guess it's because I'm old, I don't care about playing with people who lose their tempers with other people and scream. I've had enough of that. I'm happy to have serious discussions and dialogue with people who think differently from me, but not if it's acceptable to yell and scream and point fingers. (I watched a video clip of an interview on The Daily Show and the person kept pointing at the interviewer. It was very rude, unnecessary and showed a serious lack of self-control.) Life is too short for that nonsense.

Really, we never know how long or short life is going to be, but why take chances and waste our time?


574

In Response...

I was on Facebook for no more than 10 minutes before these two items loaded into my newsfeed. One posted by a friend and the other by a page.

10 Reasons Not to Become a Missionary

Religious Missionaries Spread Homophobic Hate in Uganda

The topics in the first article should probably be discerned in the process to become a missionary. If those topics aren't discussed in detail and thoroughly worked through, I'd have to believe the pre-leave training is rather worthless. However, the post did make me think immediately of 10 Reasons to leave the paid profession of being a missionary. Here are my 10.

1. Do not stay in any situation in which the relationship is one sided. You go to serve, to help, and to build relationship. If the receiving body has different ideas on your purpose, if you can't be reassigned, maybe you should leave. The position is based on reciprocity and relationship. If it doesn't exist, how can you serve?

2. If the purpose of your being there is to provide a feather in the status cap of the receiving body rather than to fill the position in the job description, if you can't get a reassignment, maybe you should leave.

3. If the receiving body isn't honest with you and uses you as a playing piece in some game that does not serve God or even match the job description for your position and you can't get reassigned, maybe you should leave.

4. If the receiving body is more interested in you performing in stereotypical ways that have always been the way missionaries have behaved, i.e. Western privilege and attitude of cultural superiority, if you can't get reassigned, maybe you should leave.

5. If the relationship between the sending body and receiving body is not based on mutual respect, transparency and accountability, and you can't get reassigned, maybe you should leave.

6. If the situation is beginning to be stressful and manipulative and you have no outlet for counsel or mediation, you should leave if you can't get reassigned.

7. If you find that your presence is to reinforce norms established during mission work of a past era, i.e. Colonial, and you can't get reassigned, maybe you should leave.

8. If the work/service that you are asked to do is in direct conflict with the ethics of your profession and you can't get reassigned, maybe you should leave.

9. If the attitude expected of you is based on a conservative view of Christianity and you are a progressive Christian, and you can't get reassigned, maybe you should leave.

10. If you find yourself in a position in which you have to be dishonest with the people supporting you because you're not permitted to do the work that they're paying for you to do, and you can't get reassigned, maybe you should leave.

Unfortunately, because of the hell fire and damnation battle cry of missionaries during the Colonial era, many Christian churches abroad are still locked in the ideology of that time. Western ways of old are the "right" ways. There is a "pure" religion. Pictures of the blonde-haired blue eyed Jesus abound. Contextualization is not Christian. Basically, anything that does not reinforce the punitive and sacrificial aspects of  this perception of "pure" Christianity is heretical. People who sided with the Colonialists usually had a higher status than other people. Therefore, the status associated with Christianity is very high in some places. Status = power. People with power don't want to give it up, you know.

Progressive Christianity is not only about gay marriage and similar, it is based on a more LOVE based interpretation of the Bible. Less punitive. Less literal and more contextual. Less rule-oriented. And more empowering towards marginalized and outcast people.

That perspective does not go over very well in places that use Christianity as a means to keep people in line by selectively enforcing traditional and social values or even as a way of elevating status.

So the second link above is about the hate pumped into Uganda by right-wing conservative missionaries. I don't know why people are shocked about this. It's much easier for right-wingers to get funding to go abroad than progressive Christians. Right-wingers love to impose their beliefs on others and "evangelizing the natives" by teaching right from wrong and good from bad is right up their simple minded alley. The mindset of the Colonial era is alive and well in the 21st century.

Sounds pretty dreary, doesn't it? I'm sure that not all mission workers are incorrectly matched with their assignments, but when it happens, it's really a nasty situation. There are progressive Christians all over the world, but very few of them have the resources to push for the changes they seek against the moneyed conservative Christians who still wield the power.

The ugly side of mission work that we rarely hear about involves those who leave for service and support those systems of injustice. It can be hard to eschew a status based on "White is right" and therefore hard for someone in that position to NOT live the life of privilege, riches and even leisure such an unearned status grants. An American salary in many former colonies, such as Uganda and even Indonesia, allows for a quality of life that is absolutely impossible in the US.

So. I could write a book about this and still am not sure where to begin, but the fact is, being a missionary is not just going abroad to share the love of God that we know through Christ. It is a constant transitioning between cultures, between different corporate climates, language, what's accepted and what's not, what Christianity means, what is the most loving way to serve, and especially how to keep everybody's egos, cultural and personal out of the mix.

It's very arrogant to assume that just because an entity professes Christianity that they practice in the same ways. Yes, we all should be the Body of Christ, but as those of us from the US know (and need to remember when we think of doing ANYTHING abroad), the rift between conservative Christians and progressive Christians is not just a US thing. It's everywhere.

And we need to really make sure that we're putting our eggs in the right baskets.

500 Words a Day (2)

This morning I awoke from a record breaking 6 hour night of sleep to feeding baby kittens, cleaning the kitchen from a late night cooking adventure (tofu balls, sauteed greens and rice - and yes, it was DELICIOUS), washing the kitty blankets and accessories, prepping the intimates for washing later, and accidentally breaking a glass saucer (whoops!) and sweeping it up with care.

Sometimes I wonder how in the world I ever got anything done when I worked a "regular" job. At least I know now why my house usually looked as if a tornado hit it and why on a normal day, I was ass and elbows. Unless I wasn't. Stop or go. No messing around in the middle for me.

Today is a day that I won't leave the house. It is a sacred day for Muslims that commemorates Abraham's journey to the mountaintop, son and knife in hand. The day is marked by mass religious offerings of goats and cows, mostly. The entire process is prayerful and the majority of the meat is given to the poor. When a young student explained it to me, he made it sound beautiful. Truly religious people want to help the poor.

When I was little and in the car on the way to my Grandmother's house, I saw a side of cow being hoisted up into a barn loft. I was traumatized and then teased about it. If at all possible, I will not eat meat. Fish and chicken if I have to; meaning I need the nutrients because I can't get it anywhere else. Through smirking grins from my co-workers where I was first assigned to "teach English" here, it was joked I must be Hindu because I will not eat cow. Oh well. Of course I would be Hindu because I didn't represent anything else that made sense to them.

Anyway.

So. Sacrifices and offerings. As I was washing dishes I was thinking about that. I guess if your God is mean and hostile, it would be necessary to soothe Him with gifts. The Old Testament is FULL of sacrifice stories.
In this day and age, meat is mass marketed, shot up with steroids, chickens are stacked on top of one another with clipped beaks...in short, rarely do any of us have the opportunity to connect with the manner in which our dinners are prepared for the table.

To pray, give thanks and share the nutrition we receive from animals is a nice change from an industrialized meat market. Yuck.

But back to sacrifices.

Maybe I can say that the Muslim community views sacrifice in that way, to pray, give thanks and share.

In the Christian community, however, there's often a different take on what it means to sacrifice. Too often it seems that it's necessary to endure suffering, as Jesus did. That means that we are to endure being mistreated. One can almost gain a pious and righteous happiness when subjected to more suffering than others. (Adeline Hulot, Cousin Bette by Honore de Balzac, springs to mind) It makes one more devout. Suffering can mean foregoing your own will, wants, goals and dreams to accommodate the expectations of someone else. This can even mean enduring an abusive relationship, whether work or personal (friendships and marriages, specifically)

For me, Jesus suffered for us. He took our sins with Him to the cross. We are washed clean. I don't believe that God wants us to suffer and endure mistreatment. Just the opposite. We are to pray, give thanks and share. Pray without ceasing. Give thanks for every little thing. Share the love, grace and forgiveness that God gives to us. So sacrifice?

Even though God loves us and wants us to be happy (Benjamin Franklin supposedly quipped that beer is proof of that!), perhaps we should sacrifice something, but I don't believe that we are supposed to sacrifice as if we were the Son of man.

We should sacrifice our greed. Our arrogance. Our self-centered consumerism. Our love of material wealth The privilege of status, earned and unearned. The desire to dictate to others how they should be, how they should act and even dress.

For Protestants, the crosses that hang in our churches are empty. Our focus is on the resurrected Christ. We remember His sacrifice, but we should know that it was His, not ours. Ours is different. Ours is to pray without ceasing, give thanks to God for His goodness, and share His love, grace, and forgiveness with our neighbors.

743. :-)

500 Words a Day (1)

I read the other day that writers are a disciplined lot; or maybe that they should be. One writer said that he forces himself to write 500 words a day. The point, he said, was not to break ground on some earth shattering revelation, but just to get the words on the page and maintain a stimulated brain.

Usually when I write, I'm waiting be cause of some epiphany. Something important that I think really needs to be shared. As such, I have a long list of unfinished drafts. I get an idea, I begin to write about it and realize that I can't complete the thoughts...too much...too complicated....lost the inspiration.

Maybe if I write 500 words a day, I'll be able to complete those drafts and not be so inspiration dependent. Maybe.

There's a new Marlboro add here. Advertisements everywhere say something similar to

Maybe 

I'll climb that mountain

So maybe I won't write 500 hundred words a day. I will write 500 words a day.

It's so easy to fall back into a default mode of being. I'm always reading articles about how to improve any aspect of myself, how to act correctly, say the right things, try to cultivate compassion...somehow in all this scurrying around to be better, I'm wondering if any of those things fills another mantra I often scurry around worrying about which is how to be true to yourself. If I'm always trying to change myself to be better, am I still me? 

When I was younger, I was often guided me with words such as "yes, but fill in the blank (nice people, educated people, Southern people, WE, etc.) don't do that", so maybe it's such a part of who I am to contain what I would naturally do, because, well, nice people like I should be don't do things like that.

The hardest thing I've ever tried to rein in is my temper. I'd love to just unleash on somebody sometimes. Right now with all of the shutdown craziness in the US, I'd like to get on Facebook and start a war calling names, making ridiculous accusations, being an emotional reactionary - I know how they feel, but I also know that "educated people don't act like that". I guess I don't act like that. I'd like to though. I wonder why I always hold back. I guess because I know that I shouldn't be stupid or say stupid things. 

Most of all, it's because I know things are never simple enough to argue and yell about. Without dialogue and an attempt at mutual understanding, it's a waste of time. 

If I'm going to waste time, I'll just play Bejeweled.

I love to waste time. That seems like some kind of cardinal sin. I don't want to take my life or my days for granted, but I just like to zone out sometimes. 

I think too much. I always have. There's probably some medication for that, but I don't want it. I guess it's how I am supposed to be - hopefully some good will come out of it one day.

Right now I'm hoping 500 words a day will help bring some good out of it. 

And I don't mean maybe.

That was my first attempt and I'm at 478 words. 22 more. Hm. 

You know what I've been thinking today? Why made South America ripe for liberation theology to be born? I wonder if anyone has ever compared the administration of Gus Dur to that of Obama. And finally, I wonder if there's so much confusion in the world because we try to use a particular academic framework, i.e. Western with serious critical thinking, and never from the another perspective free of said influence. Hm. 

621. Day 1. Check.

A Privileged Position

Privilege is a touchy subject. Oftentimes, it can be relative and dependent upon the players involved. Sometimes it even just depends on where they are.

I don't consider myself privileged. I'm not working, i.e. not rolling in money. I'm a woman and that is only beneficial if it's attached to a role I would play, namely as a spouse or a mother. I'm not in my own territory (country), so I can't say anything, or at least I have to be very careful, about sharing things that I may feel, believe or presume. I'm not a member of any majority group (unless you count Arema supporters, arguably the best local soccer club in Indonesia - woo - may catch it on that one!) In short, I don't feel very privileged.



How I feel, however, and what I say really doesn't matter, because the fact is, I am privileged. Just because of my skin color and my nationality I have unearned privilege. It doesn't mean people will like me, help me, or listen to me, but when most people see me, they think I have money and sometimes even that I'm luckier than they are because I'm a foreigner and I'm somehow "special".

It seems that some people with such perceived privilege come and eat that up. They enjoy the extra attention. They enjoy being able to say things authoritatively and actually just being paid attention to.

I don't like it. I don't want to be treated differently. I don't like to be with Indonesian friends who are waited on after me or who are treated as if they were my hired help. Yep, I don't like it one bit.

And when I don't like things do you know what I can do? I can say something (already touched on how that may work out) or I can go back to the US. And that is privilege. Whenever anything happens that I don't like or agree with, I can go home.

And sometimes I think that's one reason why I haven't gone home ... yet. Not only because I don't want to flaunt that privilege, but more than that, I don't want to reinforce the stereotype that foreigners just come here to see what they can get and then leave. That's not OK.

When I came here, I made a commitment. Not to stay as long as it was fun. Not to stay as long as I was making BIG bucks. Not to stay and try to save the world. And most of all, not to take advantage of an economic system that would allow me to live a life much more luxurious than I could live in the US. I don't think that's cool.

My commitment was to come here...and to be here. Be here. Not DO here. Be here. That's hard.

I've joined a group of Indonesian English teachers on Facebook. I love the exchange of ideas, the thoughtful input from friends who teach, and even the affirmation that things I've noticed really happen.

That being said, it's hard not to have some pretty concrete ideas concerning the ills of the education system here. I like to share, but not to bash or judge, because it's really not my place. Additionally, from all I've been reading lately, the state of public education in the US is in the tanks, so I have no business saying anything about anybody else's system. There are a couple of native speaker teachers, however, who have shared too freely and have raised the ire of some of the members of the group. They were speaking from an assumed position of privilege.

Privilege is a touchy subject.

Being a teacher here affords an elevated status. Being a native speaking English teacher? Well, that's even a notch higher. Being a male, native speaking English teacher? Well, that seems to hit the jack pot!

Teachers are expected to have the answer. All the time. I was once advised by a very smart college professor here that if I don't know the answer, just give it my best shot. The students expect me to know and I can't seem to be uncertain about something or they'll lose confidence in me.

So, there's pressure to step into that place of privilege and "play the part", but for some of us, we know what a slippery slope that is.

I don't want to do it. I won't do it. I just hope that I'll know what to do when I need to.

And I hope that it'll be the best thing possible for someone in such a state of privileged flux to do.