The End

May 23, 2016 by Mackenzie

“Oh my god, I’m going home”

This thought crossed my mind as we begin the descent into Bali. And no, I don’t mean that Bali is home. It’s just the fact that it’s here. The day has come. It’s May 23rd. My Fulbright grant is over. I don’t actually head home for another two weeks but the closing of one door and the opening of another is huge. This journey I’ve been on for the last nine months has come to a close. I’m now on a new journey – a journey of traveling and fun adventures with my brother before I go home in 12 days. That’s just wild.

This thought came with a myriad of emotions – I’m so excited to see my family and enjoy the modern conveniences of life in America. I’m about to go on the most incredible two week vacation of my life. But I’m also distraught at the fact that at the end of this trip I’m not going back to my friends and kids in Palangka Raya.

The last week has been one of the most emotional weeks of my life. My leaving seemed to hit me on Wednesday as I said started my class. I said my usual, “good morning. How are you?” and then my voice caught in my throat as I realized that my opportunities to do this were quickly coming to a close. I started to tear up and I couldn’t speak. My students looked lovingly, but sadly at me as we all realized the truth – this was the end. I had to let Spencer take over and introduce himself as I pulled myself together to teach.

Thursday was 10x worse. I teared up again saying goodbye to my morning class. While I waited for my next class in the teacher’s lounge I noticed so much scurrying and whispers. Sure enough, Tisia told me to “go to class” but all the teachers followed me and instead of walking toward my class we walked toward the Aula (auditorium), where I realized they were surprising me with a farewell party. I walked in to the room of 250 kids singing my favorite Indonesian pop song and I burst into tears. I stood at the front as they sang and I cried. I sang with them, walked up the aisle to better see them all, and sobbed my eyes out. My sweet, sweet kids… This was it. This was the end.

My farewell party was beautiful. My kids sang, my headmaster, Tisia and several of my kids gave speeches. I gave an impromptu speech. I was given so many gifts and cards. I salaamed (shook hands/high fived/hugged/hand to forehead) all 300 students. I took a bazillion selfies. I went through my whole pack of tissues. It was so, so special and I couldn’t believe that this whole thing was for me. I truly sobbed through the whole thing.

Officially a Dayak Queen

Teachers of SMAN 5

Afterwards, all of the teachers in the school took me out to lunch. All 25+ of us piled into the back room of a restaurant and took over two huge tables as we shared one last meal all together. It was so special.

Friday morning was incredibly hard. I took Spencer to the airport and then went home to begin packing. I ran to the photocopy store for some last minute printing and got teary saying goodbye to them. Then driving back home I really cried. This was it.

I met Tisia for breakfast at Mama Ina’s – the tiny warung across the street from my school where I have eaten breakfast at least 5 days a week for the last nine months. We were both quiet as we ate, holding back tears. I gave Mama Ina a photo of the two of us in her shack and she stuck it on the wall – and then I actually cried. That was the end.

Mama Ina’s

I picked up my bag and began walking to class. As I walked down the hallway one last time I couldn’t hold back the tears. My sweet, sweet kids were hanging out everywhere and this was the last time I’d walk this hall and talk to them. That broke my heart.

I made it through most of my one and only Friday class. Tisia was conspicuously absent and I kept texting her asking where she was… she told me later she was hiding in the teacher’s lounge because she couldn’t bear to see my cry teaching my last class. So instead, after I finished teaching we both sat outside the teachers lounge and cried. I was done. I’d taught my last class.

Tisia, bu Yuyun, and bu Cristin took me out for lunch and batik shopping. The teachers all pitched in to buy me traditional Dayak batik but they wanted me to choose it – we wandered the store for at least an hour choosing our favorites and picking what I wanted. I finally settled on two beautiful fabrics – I can’t wait to get them tailored when I come back in August. Lunch was hard. I was so happy to be with them but so sad at the reality that this was our last lunch together. Tisia couldn’t even look at me. The few times we made eye contact, we would both become teary eyed.

We finally went back to my house and then it was just me and Tisia. She had told me earlier that morning that she was going to Banjarmasin that night. She couldn’t take me to the airport. It would be too hard. I gave her her gifts – a wooden sign with the quote “good friends are like stars, you can’t always see them but you know they’re always there” and a framed picture of the two of us. She gave me mine but wouldn’t let me open it – it’s in my America-bound suitcase to be opened there.

I started really crying as the moment finally arrived. She was leaving and we had to say goodbye. She was so strong and held it together – I absolutely did not. Even now, three days later, I’m tearing up remembering this moment. She finally left and as she walked from my house, through the asrama, and to school – I sobbed, my shoulders heaving, as she walked away. It took everything in me to not go running after her, to not beg her to stay, to not beg her to let me stay, to not have to say goodbye. Once she had gone around the corner I sat on my bed and absolutely wept.

Once I was a little more composed, I hopped back on my motorcycle and drove to the last few places/people that I wanted to say goodbye to. I gave my mechanic a USA t-shirt – he always wears a Dayak t-shirt and I thought it would be a fun memory of me to have a USA t-shirt. Plus, he’s saved me so many times with my motorcycle. I owe him so much.

I stopped at my other favorite warung. I’ve only been there maybe 10 times but the family is so incredibly sweet and the daughter is the most outgoing little girl I’ve ever met. I love them. I brought them candy, pennies, and a big USA beach ball. They absolutely loved it all and we spent an hour catching up and saying goodbye.

Finally, I stopped at my favorite little cafe but instead of going inside, or saying something to the people who work there – I stopped because I wanted to say thank you and goodbye to the parkir (parking) guy. He was shocked – but I loved it. I thanked him for always having a smile through the rain and the heat. He’s always someone I can count on to make me feel a little less alone. I teared up saying goodbye to him. To the parkir guy!! You know you’ve found a community when you cry over your parkir and photocopy people.

A few of my girls helped me pack that evening. We ate one final dinner together in the dorm. I held it together as best as I could. A lot of girls came over that night to make s’mores and hang out. It was a night of memories that I’ll keep with me for a long time. Saying goodbye to them ripped my heart out. My sweet girls have made all the difference for me. We sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.

By 11pm I had sent all the girls home. I needed to finish packing, to write up a report for AMINEF, finish my letter for Tisia, and try and squeeze some sleep in there somewhere. I slept about three hours that night on top of only three the night before – so on top of my emotions I was just an exhausted mess.

Saturday morning dawned bright and early. I finished packing and brought all my stuff to the porch. At 6:15 my kids all lined up to march to school. Knowing this was my last chance to see them, I ran to the front of the gate and then waved goodbye to them all as they marched through. I took a video of it as they marched but it’s incredibly shaky because I’m sobbing through the whole thing.

Finally, with the kids off to school I got in the bus and headed to the airpot. Six of my sweet girls accompanied me to the airport and I sat in a daze, doing my best to hold back my tears, as we drove away from school one last time. The airport was so hard. All these strangers watched me sob through my goodbyes. I was a beautiful mess. After a lot of hugs, photos, and tears I let them go and headed inside. I was sitting at the gate when my phone rings. It’s two of my 12th grade students and they had driven all the way from the village to surprise me at the airport and say goodbye (they graduated two weeks ago). I ran sprinting back through the (tiny) airport to the front where I swept them both into a huge hug. These girls are two of the best English speaking students in the school and I had tutored them twice a week for several months. It meant so much to me to see them again.

Saying goodbye to my girls at the airport

Finally, I made my way back through the airport and onto my plane. I tried to call my mom but could only say two sentences before I broke into tears and had to hang up. I climbed up the stairs and onto the plane and realized with dismay that I was in a middle seat. I squeezed in between two older men and promptly continued to weep, at the sheer panic of the men on either side of me. Gosh, I’d love to be able to read their minds.

By the time I got to Jakarta I was drained. It had happened, it was done, I was on my way to the next journey. I miss them all terribly but I think having a fun couple of weeks traveling before heading home is just what I need to cure my downcast spirit. And hey, night one in this villa ain’t too shabby a way to start.

Dear SMAN 5

May 22, 2016 by Mackenzie

To my Family at SMAN 5,

I didn’t sleep Friday because my heart hurt so much. And now, as I’m completely exhausted and trying to sleep on the plane, I can only picture your faces and our memories together and I can’t sleep and can only cry. I’m stuck in a middle seat with two old men next to me and I think they think I’m crazy.

I know I’ve cried a lot over the last few days – you say “jangan menangis” (don’t cry) but my love for you is overflowing and I can’t keep it inside of me. These tears are my love.

You are my family. You’ve been there with me through it all – my highs, my lows, every moment of every day in these last nine months. I wouldn’t trade living in the asrama for anything. Not a mansion, not a beachside villa, not even my home in America. My home is with you and I’m leaving a huge chunk of my heart there.

Thanks for saving me from scorpions (shout out to Loge!) and rats, for making pancakes and s’mores with me, for playing UNO and Bananagrams, for always inviting me to eat at your table in the RM (dining hall), for singing and chanting at all hours of the day, for teaching me Bahasa Indonesia and Bahasa Dayak… I’ll carry these memories with me forever. Whenever someone says, “Selamat Pagi” (good morning) I’ll be waiting for you all to shout, “SELAMAT PAGI!” (shouted – military style)

I’ll never forget our Scout Camp, when you all hugged me and got me covered in mud and then we swam in the swamp together. And then you walked all night long and I was waiting for you in the roundabout but I fell asleep on the ground before you got there. When we did aerobics and the penguin song in the morning and then as you were all lined up, someone played “Timber” and I started to dance. I messed up your apel (announcement ceremony at the end of each day) as we danced together and you laughed. These are memories I’ll keep forever.

All my love,

Miss Mackenzie

Each of my nine classes on our last day together

My last night in the dorm – we made s’mores, played bananagrams, laughed, and cried

Last day of school – I totally interrupted and messed up their afternoon military ceremony 😛

Saying goodbye to my girls at the airport

I love you SMAN 5!

National WORDS Competition

April 20, 2016 by Mackenzie

My last post was about our local WORDS competition – and now I get to share with you about the National WORDS competition!

The Palangka Raya girls set off Sunday morning for the big city. We stayed at a fancy hotel in downtown Jakarta which was a treat for the students but a REALLY big treat for us ETAs! Hot showers, bath tubs, the biggest and most delicious breakfast buffet I’ve ever seen… Three days was not enough there…

Sunday evening we all dressed up in our fancy clothes for the welcoming dinner – it was fun to watch the students mingle shyly with each other and size each other up before the competition the following day.

I was part of the Pesta (party) People 2k16 team that organized some fun activities for the kids throughout the weekend. After the dinner we organized an oleh-oleh exchange, where the kids each brought some kind of special food or gift from their region and we randomly paired them up so they had a new friend to exchange gifts with! It was adorable watching them introduce each other, share about their gifts, and then continue chatting and making new friends.

Pesta People 2k16 (Bryan, Kendra, and me)

Counting off students… I’ve gotten real good at that as a teacher this year 😉

My student Telsy, and a student from Manado, exchanging their Oleh Oleh

Love this shot they captured of us!

Monday morning was a blur of nerves and excitement. One by one the students delivered their speech and talent before the panel of judges and audience. They were all incredibly impressive and so fun to watch. I’m glad I wasn’t a judge!

Nervously awaiting our turn! #27

The two palangka raya girls quickly bonded!

Finally, it was Telsy’s turn! I gave a short introduction and then she took the stage! Telsy’s speech was about wanting to motivate people, become a tv producer, and be a tourist ambassador of Central Kalimantan – and so she wore a beautiful traditional Dayak costume.

She sang a beautiful traditional Dayak song called Itak Gumer

Wow-ing the audience with her mandau knife – all the ETA boys immediately looked at me and said, “How did she get that on the plane?!” “Indonesia…” I replied.

I was so proud of her. She delivered her speech flawlessly, sang beautifully, and danced to perfection. It was all I could have asked for and more <3

All the ETAs and their impressive students!

Afterwards she was even taken aside by the media for an interview!

After the competition, the Pesta People 2k16 took the crew out for an evening of lasertag and mini golf. None of the students had ever done laser tag before and they LOVED it. We were hot, sweaty, and happy!

The next day, after the students had toured Jakarta and the ETAs had a debriefing meeting – we took the kids out to go ice skating! Unfortunately, traffic kept a lot of ETAs and students from making it there before it closed but at least some of the kids got to try it!

Carlie and Fati (her student) ice skating and Telsy and I watching them from above!

However, seeing as the rink was in the middle of a mall, that meant we had the whole evening to explore the mall! I don’t think our girls had ever seen a mall like this – maybe only in the movies! We wandered through every floor window-shopping, buying any treats the girls wanted, and meandering a bookstore where I was inspired to try reading a book in Bahasa Indonesia. I crazily chose The Girl on the Train as my beginner novel… And the girls laughed at me as I tried to read the first paragraph and couldn’t make out anything but a few words here and there. But I’m determined! I’ve now read a whole two pages in the week since I bought it 😉

Ice cream filled crepes

Trying Korean Odon noodles for dinner! And it was their first time using chopsticks 😀

Her first starbucks!

Mall crawlers

We truly had a blast – it was a weekend of so many firsts for the kids and that made it so special. I was sad to say goodbye to Carlie and the girls on Wednesday when they headed for home, while I stayed a few extra days in Jakarta to prepare for next year’s incoming cohort with the other SETAs (Senior ETAs).

It was a fabulous week!

WORDS Competition: SMAN 5

March 27, 2016 by Mackenzie

As ETAs, most of our work is done at our schools, independent of the rest of our cohort. However, there is one event that all of us ETAs are required to do at our schools – the WORDS competition. Every year, each ETA hosts an English speaking competition at their respective schools and then the winner from each school gets to travel to Jakarta with their ETA for a national competition against all of the other ETAs’ students. It’s an incredible opportunity for our students – many of whom have never been to Jakarta, or maybe even left their island. The competition occurs towards the end of the school year so it’s a great chance for ETAs and their students to put all their hard work into practice… writing and delivering a speech.

Our “Superlative” Winners – best costume, talent, speech, dancer, singer etc

My kids started preparing a month ago for the competition. After announcing the competition in every class, I made a poster board and hung it in my house. For any student who signed up to participate, I would write their name on the poster. I had no idea how much this would mean to the kids… The first day, a few kids came over to work on homework and when they saw the poster and told me they wanted to participate, the look on their faces was one of shock and disbelief when I stood up and wrote their name on the poster. “Really?! You’re going to write my name on there?!” “Of course!!” “WOW, Miss! Thank you!” And it continued… every time someone came over, they saw the poster and were motivated to participate.

The theme this year is “Three Wishes: If you could change something in the world, in your city, in yourself… what would you change?” In addition to their two minute speech, students are encouraged to perform a talent – it can be anything from singing to dancing to telling riddles… And in total, each student should take no more than 5 minutes (I didn’t stick to that rule in my local competition… oops)

The week of the competition was a flurry of preparation. Tisia and I were busy printing banners, a photobooth backdrop, name tags, participant numbers, and scoring rubrics. Meanwhile, my students were finishing their speeches and working to memorize them. Every evening a handful would drop by my house for last minute corrections or pronunciation help… this is why I LOVE living at school.

Our best costumes!

The night before the competition I was as nervous as my students. I drempt I slept through the competition, I drempt the aula (auditorium) flooded (not an idle threat – it had flooded the day before, we spent the whole previous afternoon cleaning it, and then that night it started to pour again)… but Saturday morning I awoke thrilled and excited. I raced around setting up, answering last minute questions, driving in to town to pick up Carlie and print the nametags that we had forgotten to do before…

Awesome photobooth

And then… my kids stole the show! We had 19 participants and every single one was so so good. I was so proud of them. We had crazy costumes, and modern dance. Traditional costumes and singing. It was one of my happiest days at SMAN 5!

The crew! Minus a few who couldn’t stay for the whole three hours 😀

Our top three!

In the end, the judges’ decision came down to three students – each were exceptional in their own way but they had to choose one. They eventually chose Telsy as the winner because her pronunciation was the clearest and you could easily understand her speech – in addition to her speech being entertaining and inspiring, and her talent (singing and dancing to traditional music) was beautiful! I cannot wait to bring her to Jakarta with me in a few weeks!

Theresia doing story telling as her talent

Escool’s pantomime was incredible!

Instead of giving an oversized check to my winner – I found this $$ pillow case at a tiny store in Palangkaraya! It was a hit!

Thanks to the judges and English teachers for helping us!!

A favorite moment 🙂

Congratulations!!

A Day in the Life: Scout Camp

March 14, 2016 by Mackenzie

What kind of school sponsored event results in 150 students being sick the following Monday? Scout camp of course! Scouts is big in Indonesia… it’s mandatory for all students from elementary-high school. My kids were shocked that I had never done scouts in America and when I said it’s popular mostly for elementary-aged boys they couldn’t believe me!

As an enthusiastic teacher and supporter of my students – I of course told my students I would watch them participate in scout camp – what I was not prepared for however, was participating in scout camp…

Saturday, February 27

I can hear the kids chanting and preparing at 7am but I have no intention of getting out of my bed just yet. It’s Saturday… my one day to sleep in, and I’m taking advantage of it. Especially because I know I will be getting very little sleep tonight.

I mosey around in the morning, finish my lesson plan for the upcoming week, and run out to pick up my laundry – clean jeans are clutch, seeing as I can only wear pants around my school which means I wear the same pair every single day after school and they are sweaty, dirty, and smelly. I have since made the quality investment of a second pair from the local department store – they aren’t quite long enough for me but I roll up the bottoms and I’m good to go.

Around noon, I head over to school to join the fun. What I see as I exit the asrama and enter the school grounds, is 30 tarp-tents, pitched on the only dry area of the field (which turns into a lake every time it rains). The kids see me and I suddenly have kids calling at me from all directions, “Miss! Come look at our tent!” “Miss! Come over here!” “Miss!” I tour the tents and end up settling down with my favorite 11th grade girls. All the kids are split into teams of 8 and it so happens that my favorite 8 girls are all on the same team… 100 selfies, and promises of sleeping in their tent with them tonight later, I meander over to the school to where the teachers are.

After lunch in the canteen, we assemble the students and march over to the challenge course. Now, I’ve done a lot of challenge courses in my years of summer camps and school outings, but I’ve never seen anything as intense as this. 7 obstacles have been created in the empty area behind some of the classrooms and these are your stereotypical challenges, but on steroids. The third challenge was by far the most intense – a 30 yard army mud crawl in the nastiest of mud ditches.

Team by team, the students began the challenge course. I laugh and cheer as I run from obstacle to obstacle screaming out every form of encouragement I could think of. After completing the mud crawl, many of the kids attempt to grab me and get me all muddy and I run away screaming. But after a few attempts, one of them finally catches me unaware, and gives me a big muddy hug. And from there, it was all over. Kid after kid would emerge from the mud and bear hug me, to shrieks of terror from the other teachers and shrieks of delight from the other students.

When another team of “my girls” finished the course, I jokingly join their military line and head off towards the dormitory with them, where I think we will be showering. But no… the course wasn’t over yet. One by one, the kids jump into the swamp that sits in the middle of the asrama and swim across to the other side. I have been told this swamp is home to the scorpions that invade my home – I am not enthused about jumping in the scorpion-infested swamp, but alas, in I go!

The girls go back to the dormitory to clean up and I return to the course to watch the other kids. I’m a tad less muddy now, after my swim, but it doesn’t last for long.

Finally, after 100 more bear hugs, and two more swims across the swamp I stumble back to my house, enter through the back gate, strip off my ruined clothes, creep through my house to the bak mandi (shower). My floor turns brown as I scrub myself clean and I pray that there is enough water in the water tank to get me clean again. Finally, I am better – certainly not clean, but no longer black. I make my way back to school where all the teachers laugh hysterically as they point to all the mud I didn’t see – my neck, the backs of my arms… (I don’t have a decent mirror in my house so I can never see what I look like). Ah well…

We eat dinner in the canteen and the students all begin to assemble around a massive pile of branches, which is soon to be our campfire. Darkness has set in but there are torches around the field and soon enough, the campfire is blazing. All 200 students or so are standing arm in arm in a gigantic circle – and I’m pleased to be invited to join them. We sing, chant, march, and dance before the circle dissolves and everyone gathers together to watch each team perform a song or dance.

It’s 9pm or so by this point, which is typically nearing my bedtime. But the night is far from over. The students are allowed to go back and rest in their tent for awhile and us teachers end up lying on the floor of the nurses room, where I promptly doze off.

At 11:30pm we all wake back up and the students assemble again. They are back in their scouting uniforms – girls in skirts and black mary jane shoes – I’m feeling bad for what they have to do next (they don’t know but I do…)

Team by team, they come to the front and the scout leader gives them their instructions. Exit the school, turn right, and continue walking until you find the first post. Off they march, single file, into the pitch black night (and I mean PITCH BLACK – there are no street lights on my rural road haha)

At 1am, after about half the teams have departed, I climb into the car with a few of the teachers and we set off. As we pass each team walking down the dark, empty road, I stick my head out the window and enthusiastically cheer them on. A few give a little wave, but most just nod and look straight ahead – military procedure. There are four posts spread between our school set on the outskirts of the city, and the city center – the bundaren besar or the big roundabout. The roundabout is 6km from our school and the students march into the night… completing physical and mental challenges at each post and walking and walking and walking. By 2:30am, most of the teams have arrived in the roundabout. They spread out in the grass, strip off their shoes and socks, and are told to meditate for awhile. I meanwhile, roll over and fall asleep on the concrete path. At 3:45am I am awakened by the sound of singing, I sit up and see that all 200 students are now sitting clumped together, holding candles, and singing. I’m exhausted but I can’t imagine what they are feeling right now.

When the song is over, the teams set off again, to walk the 6km back to school. Once they have all departed, I climb back into the teacher’s car and we drive back to school. We get home at 4:30am, and I deliriously roll out of the car and cozy back onto the floor of the nurse’s room where I instantly fall asleep.

At 5:45am I am awakened by the sound of music blasting out of the shittest speakers you’ve ever heard. I groan but sit up and walk outside to find the teachers already scurrying around. Pretty soon, the students are reassembled, looking haggard but amazingly cheerful, and we begin doing exercise aerobics. I’m of course told to join, so I jump into the line and crack up as 250 people do exercise aerobics at 6am after no sleep. I’m terrible at it but my kids are pros and that makes me laugh even harder 😀

Us teachers eat breakfast in the canteen again and then I excuse myself to go home and take a quick shower. I’m thankful I live at school and I can walk home in about three minutes. At 9am, the students assemble again and someone plays “Timber” by Ke$sha and in my half-dazed state, I begin to dance. The students are standing at attention in their perfectly straight, military lines and I am 20 yards in front of them dancing to Pitbull. Their exhausted faces break into smiles and then into giggles and pretty soon everyone is giggling at me and some are breaking their rank and dancing along with me.

But the music stops, and it’s time for the ceremony. The Scout Leaders bring in large buckets of brown water with some little flowers on top. They look disgusting and I ask what’s in it… “oh, just coffee grounds, flour, dirt, some spices, and… you know what” WHAT?! Yes… shit. This was shit water and it was about to be poured on my poor student’s heads as their induction into scouts (I would classify this as hazing but who am I to judge?)

I make it through about 20 minutes of the ceremony (and about 5 heads doused in shit water) before I almost tip over from exhaustion and decide that it’s time I call it a day (or two). I wave to a few teachers and sneak out… walking quickly across the field and back into my cold air-conditioned bedroom. It’s 10:00am and I am so, so ready to go to bed. I sleep until 4:30pm when I am awakened by hunger pangs. I haven’t eaten anything since 6am… I venture out for some food, and just as I settle in to my nasi goreng and tempe, the power goes out. Mati lampu… of course. I sit in the dark for a stifling four hours before the power finally returns at 10pm and I slip back into a deep sleep.

I made a short, cheesy video combining all the snapchats I took that day if you want a peek at what it was really like!

A Day in the Life: Military School

March 13, 2016 by Mackenzie

When I was maybe 13 years old, I used to love to play the SIMs computer game – you remember the one where you direct the Sim’s life and build them a house, get them a job, etc? Well, I remember how if you didn’t take care of the children, then they would be shipped off to “Military School”… Well, 10 years later, I’ve been shipped off to military school too 🙂

My military school happens to be in Indonesia and it’s not for “bad” kids. In fact, it’s a highly regarded school for those who want to go into the police or the military (or was… supposedly the school was a top notch school five years ago and it’s been on the decline since. But nevermind that now). My Fulbright year is encapsulated by my experiences here at this military school – and it’s high time I gave you a picture of what life here is really like… so, here’s another “Day in the Life” but military school style.

Welcome to SMAN 5 Palangkaraya

Tuesday:

3:38am – chanting and stomping. Hundreds of students pounding outside my house as they run in a circle and spiritedly sing the school song. This used to make me laugh really hard when I woke up to this every Tuesday and Thursday morning, now I just pray that it rains on Tuesday and Thursday nights so they don’t run and I can sleep peacefully. However, this has led to more 3:45am snapchat videos than I have ever taken in my life. Six months into boarding school life, they definitely still wake me up but I’ve gotten a lot better about falling back asleep through their chanting.

5:45am – chanting again. This time as they line up for breakfast and march into the dining hall. I wake up, and promptly roll over and fall back to sleep.

Marching to school after breakfast – Also note the shaved heads for the boys and the short hair on the girls. They all look identical and I had a hard time learning their names but I’ve gotten a lot better at it 😀

8:00am – After a (refreshing?) nine hours of sleep (which pathetically never satisfies anymore… I think the heat just kills me here…), it’s time to actually wake up. I don’t have school until 10:30 on Tuesdays so I get to relax a little on Tuesday mornings and check a few things off my to do list – lesson planning, skyping with family, sweeping the previous night’s cockroach carcasses out of my house…

Around 10:15am: I head the short distance through the asrama (dormitory) to the school. I call “selamat siang” to the security guard, “good morning” to the 10^th grade students sweeping outside their classrooms, and wave merrily to the students across the field who are desperately trying to get my attention.

I teach two classes on Tuesdays, both 10th grade. While I haven’t had the privilege of attending any classes of my fellow ETAs I know from their stories that military school makes my children seem like angels. If they aren’t in class by the time I walk in, I can lecture them once and it will never happen again. When I call for quiet, I get quiet. There’s no guitar playing, no side conversations, no disturbances (except for the one time a student had a 2 day old kitten hidden in her desk) – and I’m thankful to military discipline for that.

Unfortunately, military discipline hasn’t quite sunken in to my coteachers. They may or may not be at school when it’s time for class, and while we, as ETAs, aren’t supposed to enter the classroom without our coteachers, we would only have class once a month if I stuck to that rule…

The class periods are not nearly as regimented as I would like for military school. Classes are theoretically 90 minutes long, but who knows when the bell will ring to end class – it could ring 20 minutes into class and there goes your perfectly crafted 90-minute lesson plan… This happened to me twice last week. GRRR.

Starting off class with a fun game where they match US tourist destinations to the corresponding photos – to go along with our lesson on Descriptive Text and Tourist Destination

On this particular Tuesday, I start class, as usual, with a game, because after waking up at 3am my kids are pretty sleepy by 10am. If I can make them get out of their seats or make the game competitive, I know I can wake them up so they’ll be good to go for the rest of my class. Today we’re teaching about recount text and after the game, I pass out handouts with a short story of my own that I thought they would enjoy – titled Bule Falls in the Latrine. Their laughter when they receive their handout is better than any game I could have started the class with.

This game is running dictation – teams can only send one student up front at a time to read the text and then must memorize part of it and go back to their team to write it down.

1:30pm – After classes finish, the students march to the front of the school and line up in their rows, class by class. I walk back to the teachers lounge and usually watch the “announcement ceremony” until it’s finished and then follow the students as they march home. During these ceremonies, there are usually a number of announcements from the teachers and a lot of chanting and saluting. Occasionally however, there are punishments. Today, it is the 10^th grade. The other classes are dismissed, while two or three classes of the 10^th graders remain on the field. They all begin to stack their backpacks on the side and then the boys drop to the ground and start hammering out pushups. The girls go to one side and begin doing squats (in skirts! no thank you). This is military school style punishment. As I walk home behind the other classes, I chuckle, sneak a few pictures, and continue walking home. I have to awkwardly pass right next to the students and I give them a sympathetic smile and receive a cheery wave in return. These kids are awesome.

Two boys being punished by the teachers…

Everything is done military style… even their jogging during PE is done in perfect lines

The afternoon is filled with chores. Students (particularly the 10^th grade) do everything from refilling water gallons to sweeping the dirt. Here at military school we have a very strict hierarchy (much to my dismay), and the 10^th grade students are made to do every menial task – and also live in fear of the 11^th and 12^th grade students. The older students can enforce punishments on the younger ones – they can make them do pushups, squats, run, stand in a corner… What I most dislike, is the deference that the 10^th graders must give the 11^th and 12^th graders. If I have 10^th graders at my house studying with me or preparing for the WORDS competition, and a 11^th grade students comes over, then (despite my protests) the 10^th grade students will automatically leave and let the older students work with me. I find this ridiculous and wish that my house was a neutral zone where anyone felt comfortable working with anyone else inside… but in the six months that I’ve been here… I haven’t managed to break that hierarchy.

12th grade boys punishing the 10th grade boys in the asrama

5:50pm – Dinnertime is it’s own affair here at SMA 5. At 5:30pm or so, the 10^th grade boys start lining up outside their dormitory. They begin chanting at 5:40 when the 11^th grade boys begin to line up as well. (The 12^th grade can do whatever they want – it’s all about the hierarchy). My front porch looks right at the area where the boys congregate, while the girls’ dormitory is on the other side of my house, but they are doing the same routine. At 5:50pm they begin chanting and marching into the dining hall and I know it’s my cue to come as well. I run back into my kitchen, grab my fork and spoon, and head around the swamp. The boys are marching towards the dining hall and when they get there, they stop, resituate their lines, do some more chanting and do a fancy little military turn. It cracks me up every time. They head down the short hall, with me behind them, and grab a plate from the kitchen with a tiny piece of chicken on it and go back to one of the three dining rooms. One is for the 10^th grade, and the other two are for the 11^th and 12^th grades. I make my way back to RM1 (ruang makan satu = dining room one), scoop some rice onto my plate and join one of the tables of girls. Of course, the room is divided with boys occupying the tables to the right, and girls on the left.

We sit, turn to face the doorway and wait for the student leader to take his or her position. This student steps in front of the doorway and calls, “SIAP. BERDOA.” Ready, pray! And all heads bow in prayer. After about ten seconds, the students calls “BERDOA SELESAI. MAKANAN MULAI.” Prayer finished. Meal begins! The students give a little stomp of their feet and then we altogether call, “SELAMAT MAKAN!” (Happy eating? Not sure how to translate that.) Now, we are allowed to begin eating. But it’s rushed. We shovel food into our mouths in the general quiet (except for my table, where I always break the rules and make my table talk to me ~ teacher privileges) and about seven minutes after we began eating, the student leader makes a quick sweep of the tables and returns to their position. All forks and spoons are set down immediately and our backs are straight and upright in our chairs. The student leader calls “MAKANAN SELESAI. BERDOA MULAI.” Meal finished. Begin prayer. and we pray again. After another call from the leader, we all chant, “TERIMA KASIH!” Thank you (shouted to the ibus who cooked the meal sitting in the other room). Table by table, we get up, scoop the remaining food off our plate, stack the plates and cups in a large garbage bin, and wash our own spoons and forks in a bucket of soapy water. The students then march out of the dining hall and reform their lines, and after a few more chants and fancy turns, they march back to the dorm while I saunter home behind them.

9:00pm – Several times a week we have yet another “ceremony.” Sometimes it is separated by boys and girls, and sometimes the whole school gathers together. Oftentimes, this takes place about 20 yards from my house, and it is an hour’s long chanting, singing, marching, and stomping.(This is literally happening as I write this right now – it’s 9:01 on Sunday evening. Someone just “clanged” the flagpole and all the students are assembling and the chanting has begun again…) Occasionally however, it has happened literally at my doorstep – the dorm leader (a military soldier from the nearby base) lives in the house across from mine – and the students will all congregate between our two houses. This is not my preferred location as it feels like all 350 students are about to storm my house.

10pm – By ten o’clock the asrama is usually quiet. Unless of course, they are practicing for a scout competition and there are then 20 students chanting, singing, and playing instruments 20 yards from my house until midnight. But it’s the constant sound of students… of laughter, of singing, of chanting… that will be some of my strongest memories here. I am with my students 24/7 and while at times, it is exhausting, I wouldn’t want it any other way.

We even have a special military uniform. I think my kids look extra sharp in that uniform 😀

Mackenzie

A Look Back