I wanted to share a video of an amazing presentation of Saudi Arabia done by my students recently. Our school activities director gets students of different countries to do a presentation for the school every so often, and this was one of the most elaborate! I’m proud of these guys!

The topic of the unit I was teaching that week called “Party,” and my class, which has a majority of young Saudi guys who will cheer at anything from the pronunciation of ordinal numbers to Noun & Article Jeopardy on the Smartboard, broke down into a wild dancing party at the end on that Friday afternoon. I have to add an extra cheer to that day, as my new niece, Jesse Renée was born, just before this crazy dance ensued.

Here‘s a glimpse at what this is all about. Be sure to check out the video!

I hope to have the time to update this more often (thanks for the reminder today, Diogo–glad someone cares!), but we’ll see what happens. It’s looking like it’ll be a busy (but exciting) few months while this course takes off. You can keep in touch and keep up with current news through Facebook, and I’m hoping for (yet not promising) time to make more posts in the near future!

As I arrived, having just discovered the type of crowd I’d be drawing at this function, I prayed a quick prayer for strength of heart, because, even though I’ve had the patience, compassion, and creativity to entertain groups like this in the past, I currently find myself lacking in those areas.  With an average amount of ability and compassion, I drew many patients, spouses, children, and grandchildren, not too different from any other job.  As my time there drew to an end, I settled in to draw my last caricature, an old couple, referred to as “the lovebirds,” by their grown children as they excitedly brought them over to my table.

I sketched in some graceful curves of the lady’s very round, smiling face with my brush pen, trying to carefully etch in her delicate hairline of neatly permed, very fine, bright white hair and her shining eyes framed with the kind of wrinkles that come from joy, not from weariness.  Then I chiseled in the long, angular features of the gentleman, doing my best to envision and capture the correct, and more flattering tilt and expression of his face as he was unable to hold up his head or close his mouth.  Deciding to do a simple head-and-shoulders sketch, I blended together the colors and necklines of the sweaters of the man and woman, thinking of the idea of “the two shall become one,” and marveling at the love in the eyes of the woman, whose husband of many years likely couldn’t even speak her name.

As I began to color the drawing, the singer of the band introduced a song she had written, a change from all the classic cover songs she had been singing throughout the event.  It was a tender love song, asking if this was “the one” to spend a lifetime with, to share the cold nights and the dark days together.  Listening to the song and studying the faces of this beautiful couple, who have walked alongside each other “for better or for worse, in sickness and in health,” and are now walking through the heartbreaking ordeal of Alzheimer’s, and seeing their happiness as they cuddled with each other, their kids stroking Dad’s head and helping him lift up his face, suddenly and strongly moved me to tears while I worked to finish the drawing.  They were both tears of joy for the beauty of the couple’s relationship, and tears of longing, loneliness, and questioning about my own future.   It’s a good thing I was wearing sunglasses, or the colors would have been smeared by some huge drops, besides the first one that i managed to wipe off the paper before it caused too much damage.  I wasn’t alone, as a few of the couple’s grown kids got choked up over the song and the moment as well. I prayed a weak, silent prayer over the couple and their family as I finished the drawing, and mustered a smile as I gave it to them, acknowledged their happiness with it, guiltily accepted the tip they offered, then cleaned up, thanked the client, and ran, crying to my car.

I’m not sure what I was supposed to learn from this moment, and I can’t really say that I was encouraged or strengthened by the experience, as tears have been ready and plentiful all weekend long as went from event to event with little rest in between.  “Cleansing of the soul,” a friend said at church that evening.  But tonight, after ending a busy weekend in front of the computer trying to find creative ways to teach verbs with infinitives that require objects, I was deeply touched by a story I read on Boundless, a web and radio publication for young adults discussing issues of Jesus and life and culture…Check it out if you like.  I don’t really have anything profound to say, but am just journaling some thoughts.

If I make it to old age, whatever my condition, I hope I’ll be able to reflect some of Jesus’ love to those around me.

Check them out if you haven’t already.  They’re definitely worth seeing.  I might even crash their show at Lasell College next week (though tonight’s the best venue to see them at!)…anyone wanna come with me?

Team Azul!

Brega!

I spent last weekend in New Hampshire with a bunch of wonderful, crazy Brazilians from the church youth group I attend. It was a fun, spiritually refreshing time with the theme of “Intimacy With God.”  Between a campfire, churrasco, a brega festa (an “ugly fashion show”–as best as I can understand to translate it), some competitive games, multiple worship gatherings with theater, dance, music, preaching, and prayer, as well as just some times of rowdy fun and fellowship, God met me in some significant areas.

Here’s a video of a choreography from that weekend done by the church’s theater group, to the song “Quem Sou Eu?”/”Who Am I?” It really touched me.

(Here is the original by Casting Crowns, in English)

One of the speakers at camp spoke about God changing Jacob’s name to Israel, and the significance of that identity.  It got me thinking about my identity and my calling in Christ, which, in turn, dealt with some deep-seated fears that had been inside me.  Realizing this in a fresh way that weekend brought some powerful healing, (sometimes the stuff I already know, after hearing it in English strikes me in a different way when I hear it in Portuguese!) as I saw that these fears and the depression that I sometimes struggle with are not part of my identity in Christ, and have no place in my life.

I think the song portrayed above reflects this as well.  I marvel at God’s love for me and my “ever wandering heart,” made known through Jesus, who died in my place to restore a relationship broken by my rebellion.  Because of this, I celebrate, telling Him that it’s “not because of who I am, but because of what You’ve done; not because of what I’ve done, but because of who You are.”  The grace that He freely gives is all I need.  He’s called me to Himself, and given me a new identity in Him.  In Christ, God has not given me a spirit of fear, but of “power and love and of a sound mind,”  And “His divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness.” Gaining a fresh awareness of this has given me new sense of freedom from fears and depression that would fight to hold me captive.  I belong to Christ. Whom shall I fear?

Quem sou eu?

Eu sou Teu!

Here’s a promo film for my school. If you look closely, you can see me and some of my colleagues teaching with Smartboard technology (“Good job, Erdem!”–you’re a good sport and a fellow actor!)  

I have to say that I was at first reluctant to make the switch from good old dry-erase boards to the Smartboard, never having been very technologically savvy.  And I will still say that there’s nothing like the fine tip of a chisel dry-erase marker when it comes to writing a quick sentence or drawing a cartoon illustration on the board. However, I’ve come to love Smartboard technology, and have found so many ways to create fun, inductive, visual, kinesthetic, student-centered presentations with it.  

I’m thankful for my background in art, with training in design and experience in Photoshop, which has helped me create strong visual presentations.  Yet however effective the technology is, it’s really the people who use it that make a difference in learning, and I’m proud of my school, our motivated students, and my dedicated colleagues who have been given high ratings, not only for competitive use of technology, but also for just being outstanding teachers.  I’m grateful to work for Embassy!

Here is a clever critique of the English language.  I always tell my students that English is a “strange” language, and that I respect them deeply for working so hard to learn it. 

I believe this was taken from the introduction to Crazy English: The Ultimate Joy Ride Through Our Language, by Richard Lederer:

English is the most widely used language in the history of our planet. One in every 7 humans can speak it. More than half of the world’s books and 3 quarters of international mail is in English. Of all the languages,it has the largest vocabulary – perhaps as many as 2 MILLION words. Nonetheless, let’s face it – English is a crazy language. There is no egg in eggplant nor ham in hamburger; neither apple nor pine in pineapple. English muffins weren’t invented in England or French fries in France. Sweetmeats are candies while sweetbreads, which aren’t sweet, are meat.We take English for granted. But if we explore its paradoxes, we find that quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig.

And why is it that writers write but fingers don’t fing, grocers don’t groce and hammers don’t ham? If the plural of tooth is teeth, why isn’t the plural of booth beeth? One goose, 2 geese. So one moose, 2 meese? One index, 2 indices?

Doesn’t it seem crazy that you can make amends but not one amend, that you comb thru annals of history but not a single annal? If you have a bunch of odds and ends and get rid of all but one of them, what do you call it?

If teachers taught, why didn’t preacher praught? If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat? If you wrote a letter, perhaps you bote your tongue?

Sometimes I think all the English speakers should be committed to an asylum for the verbally insane. In what language do people recite at a play and play at a recital? Ship by truck and send cargo by ship? Have noses that run and feet that smell?

How can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same, while a wise man and wise guy are opposites? How can overlook and oversee be opposites, while quite a lot and quite a few are alike? How can the weather be hot as hell one day and cold as hell another?

Have you noticed that we talk about certain things only when they are absent? Have you ever seen a horseful carriage or a strapful gown? Met a sung hero or experienced requited love? Have you ever run into someone who was combobulated, gruntled, ruly or peccable? And where are all those people who ARE spring chickens or who would ACTUALLY hurt a fly?

You have to marvel at the unique lunacy of a language in which your house can burn up as it burns down, in which you fill in a form by filling it out and in which an alarm clock goes off by going on.

English was invented by people, not computers, and it reflects the creativity of the human race (which, of course, isn’t a race at all). That is why, when the stars are out, they are visible, but when the lights are out, they are invisible. And why, when I wind up my watch, I start it, but when I wind up this essay, I end it.

Copyright © Richard Lederer.

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During class the other day, I was randomly struck by the scent of my honeysuckle lotion, the sudden whiff of which, combined with the environment of a classroom, brought back strong, yet sweet memories of last spring/summer, teaching English in the little old Plummer building on Lasell campus with its squeaky floors.  It was during that time, in my first year of teaching, that I became confident as an English teacher, and had a wonderful, fun class in a great campus environment, before the school relocated downtown.  Last summer was also a time of enjoying the company of some visiting Italian friends (while refreshing my dormant Italian speaking ability), entertaining tourists in downtown Boston with caricatures in the evenings, dancing, and discovering how close the beach was to my house.  This time of year, I work at a lot of all-night high school graduation parties, drawing caricatures.  And driving home in the quiet, pre-dawn allows me to experience the scents of late-spring blossoms in a way that most people don’t get to enjoy.

For each time of the year, and certain months in particular, there are particular scents that are dense, full of meaning, rich with memories.  The scent of holly blossom in St. Mary’s City still makes me think of my friend Justin, who brought a blooming sprig to my dorm room just weeks before he left us.  Early fall has its share of scents and memories, as well, which I blogged a little about last September.  And even winter, the season I dread, has its own beauty that is seen and smelled in surprising ways.

I wrote a poem, several years back, just one year after graduating from high school, that expresses a little of these ideas.  It’s not my usual rhyme and meter, but the words speak nonetheless.  Enjoy, and stop and smell the…whatever…

June Memories

I feel the breath of summer on my shoulders

Its mist is all around me, and I inhale the scents of seasons past

The music, the colors, the feelings all grip me again

A grin trickles down my face like hot fudge

My feet swing easily through the warm breezes, dancing to the made-up rhythm of a forgotten song

The colored ghosts with their glowing smiles return once again,

And I smile and I think and I sigh,

And a rich tear rolls down and splashes through the warm enchantment