Bizzaro World

Do you remember the Seinfeld "Bizzaro" episode? The one where Elaine hangs out with the opposites of Jerry, George, and Kramer. They all look similar, but have opposite personalities.

Well, I think I have entered this world. I have switched one group of 7th graders for another, but in so many ways they are polar opposites. My kids in the States had very rough lives, as some of you may or may not know. They had to deal with things adults shouldn't have to deal with, let alone kids. About 80% lived below the poverty line. There were single parents, parents with multiple jobs, and broken families. Gangs, drugs, alcohol, gangs, crime, abandonment, neglect, and all shades of abuse were (are really - I'm gone, but these things did not leave with me) daily intrusions into many of their lives. I guess I had become very hardened to it after a period of time. I kind of just took it for granted that that is the way kid's lives sometimes are. I really noticed this thought within myself as I was talking with a Kuwaiti colleague of mine. This woman runs our library, is perhaps in her early 50's, was educated in the US - doing both her undergraduate and graduate work there, and we have had a number of great conversations lately. Somehow the topic of my old school came up in relation to differences in culture and students and I told her about my experiences in my old school. Mind you it was only the Reader's Digest version, but I quickly noticed her face freeze and drop and her eyes tear up as I spoke. These are things she never really got to see even though she spent so much time in the US.

My students here are the Bizzaro kids to my students from home in so many ways. Chief among them is that these kids have never had to suffer for want (with few exceptions). They have everything they need, and more that they don't, at their disposal. I am doing a writing project right now and it is utterly fascinating. I having them write an extensive autobiography that will take nearly the first half of the school year to complete, and the side effect for me - besides the improved writing skills - is the amazing insight into their lives that I'm not sure I would have ever have gotten any other way. Here, in no particular order, is some random information about my current students. I'll start slow. Most have maids. Yes, maids, plural, four or maybe five. That does not count having a nanny and driver. They have things like TVs and computers in their rooms, which is not so unusual, until you learn that, in addition to that, they also own a laptop, an ipad, multiple gaming systems, and a couple of phones - you know, an iphone and a blackberry, like we all do. And don't think that having something new is good enough. Not when the latest model of whatever it is is out. I get lectured for having an iphone 4, when the iphone 4S is now out. I have to laugh when an 11 or 12 year old has to tell me about the superiority of said phone and tell me that I just have to get the new one.

We have been in the library typing the first six chapters of their autobiographies, and they are appalled by the outdated computers they have there, and rightly so. Their solution to this outrage? "Sir, can we just bring our laptops?" That's right. I am always referred to as "Sir" by the way. Apparently my school badge just has a picture of me with the name "Sir" on it. They will just all bring their laptops to school (I want my teacher friends at home to pause to catch their breath please. I know I could barely even imagine a world where that might be possible, let alone as easy bringing a pencil). And what else have I found out by reading about them? It's incredible really. I've lost count, but off the top of my head I think I have four or five kids whose dad's are ambassador's to different countries. Cuba, Nigeria, Hungary, Chile, and Kuwait (from Oman). I have a mom who a secretary to the king and a dad who is a high up in customs (his daughter found out I had to leave school for a half a day to go get a package that had been sent from home, she told me she'd give me her dad's number next time and then I guess "someone" would just be nice enough to bring it to me). There are dads that work in all sorts of high up government jobs. I have a dad that is the chairman of Rolex (hoping for a nice Christmas gift), and another that does some sort of work for both Rolex and Omega. The ruling family in Kuwait is named Al Sabah, and we have a number of students with this name at school.

They all travel. When they get to where they are going, they all stay in their house they have there. Whether that is there chalet at the beach, or their house in Paris or London. They have houses in any country you can name in the Middle East, and some have houses in Paris, London, and other places like Spain. I mean, how many people do you know that didn't send their teen aged daughters (you know, like 12, 13, 14 year olds) to Egypt to see Beyonce. It's enough for me to seriously start considering bribes. If you see pictures of me in Chamonix wearing a Burberry scarf, Rolex watch, Spyder

I'll save the topic of absentee parenting for another time though.

Decisions, decisions.

It's been awhile I know, but I'm a little lazy. I've also been a little busy. Busy trying to figure out all my vacations. Last year at this time I really had no idea I would be overseas. I mean, I always knew I wanted to teach overseas, but I hadn't started looking yet, and had no immediate plans too. But, conversations with coworkers who were looking to make the move lit a fire under me, and now here I am.

The great thing about teaching around the world is that affords the opportunity to travel, which I haven't really done since I was a kid growing up moving around the world with my parents. In the past, for vacations, I would always think local. Should I go to the beach, or maybe up to the mountain to go skiing? Usually day trips, nothing special. Now however, it is different. We had a week fall vacation for Eid (a Muslim holiday), and I found out very late in the game that I would be able to travel (long story short, I had visa complications, and I thought I would be Kuwait bound, but that is another blog story). Where would I go? Turkey, Egypt, Cyprus, Italy, and Sri Lanka all crossed my mind. Where to go? And what about Christmas? Spring Break?

Oh, how complicated my life has become. The choices are far too many, and everyone has their favorites. "Where are you going on break?" is the constant conversation starter. Everyone wants to compare and contrast. After much searching and several mind changes, I ended up going to Sri Lanka for Eid. Egypt is a little on the "exciting" side right now, Turkey had an earthquake, and the other places, while attractive, were very expensive at that late date. Let's just say I made a good choice.

Now, my choices are back again. I'm off to Bulgaria to do a little skiing for Christmas. Everyone I know is either heading home or somewhere else warm, but I want cold, snow and greenery (I guess I miss Oregon), so I am off by myself. I decided to land in Istanbul, and take a sleeper train up to Sophia to hang out there for a couple of days. Then down to Bansko for a week or so for Christmas (ever since I spent a Christmas in a ski village in Austria, I've wanted to do something like it again), then back down to Istanbul for New Years. Hopefully I'll get in some skiing, some snowshoeing, some steam rooms and massages, some R&R, with good food and drinks, and top it off with seeing some sights in two beautiful cities.

Now I just need to start planning ahead for Spring Break. I'm thinking either Portugal or Spain, but I'll take suggestions.

Tragedy: German Embassy runs out of beer!

So I get invited to a Canadian Thanksgiving dinner hosted by Canadians In Kuwait, and decide that I should attend. Pretty much every western person I've met here is from my school, and I feel like it is a good thing to branch out and meet some new people. Plus, I'm a sucker for turkey, gravy, and mashed potatoes, so I figured if all else goes south, I've got a little bit in my belly. I'm not really sure what I expected, but it was an interesting event. They locale was very plush. The event was held on a giant, dry docked ship. It was truly impressive in terms of both scale and craftsmanship (see picture below). The crowd was a bit odd though. It felt a bit like I was on a movie set where people were just extras pretending to be party goers. They were nice, as Canadians tend to be I suppose, if just a little bit stoic. We drank apple and guava juice out of champagne glasses like we were kids playing grownup. Yippee!

Into the hull of the ship we went, and grab a table at random where we knew nobody. We introduce ourselves, order more apple juice, listen to a speech from some attache from the Canadian embassy, and duly stand for a rather poor rendition of the Canadian national anthem, which sounded like it was being played by a group of drunk middle schoolers. We quickly struck up a conversation with the couple sitting next to us. He was German, and she was Canadian. They admitted that they were unhappy with the lack of alcohol at the function (much as we all were), and launched into a story about their previous night. They had been at some function at the German embassy and had had the great fortune of drinking heavily. The night turned into something out of college where they got hammered, drove home drunk (not remembering the drive), but stopping first to get Dominos pizza on the way home. She was on her way to being drunk again having smuggled in some hooch in her purse and pouring some into both her juice and her Coke (I liked this woman), while he launched into a story about his embassy.

He was particularly unhappy that he was told, when he went to get another beer, that the embassy had run out of beer. "Can you BELIEVE zat? Zay told me zat  zay had no more beerah! Since when do Germans ever run out of BEERAH?!?" At this point I have to nod and concede the point. To my knowledge, outside of the siege at Stalingrad, the Germans have never been without ze beerah. And now he is really worked up and enjoying his outrage from the previous night. He talked about how he threw a little bit of a fit and was confronted by the German Ambassador himself, who basically told him, again that they were out of beer. "What an azzhole!" he kept saying. "and he couldn't even speak English well. I agreed again saying that two things I hated were being cut off by those with poor English skills, particularly German azzholes. He got a big kick out of this and grinned broadly, buoyed by my support. Then he turns to his girlfriend and says, incredulously, "Zhen, she goes up to him, with ze BIG BOOBS and ze BLONDE HAIR, and he gives her a BIG hug and (that's right, you guessed it) MORE BEERAH!" I look again at her and indeed, she is an attractive woman who is clearly proud of her boobs, and I can see how she would garner a hug and more drinks. "Zey had more beerah for her, but not for me. Not for ze German. Zat guy iz an azzhole!!"

I need to hang out with this guy more often, and I need to get myself invited to some embassy parties. I need to go to a tailor and get a suit made so I have something to wear. I need ze BEERAH!

"Do you get seasick?"

He asked this of me when I stepped on the boat yesterday. "I don't know," I told him as I tried to think back. I have just never spent much time on the open water, but the times I had, I'd been fine. On the other hand, I am my mother's son (a brief note here: despite being a very experienced traveler, my mom does not do well with motion and gets sick at the drop of the hat. Trains and boats are particularly bad for her). I backed that up with a bold "I don't think so."

We headed out for the 45 minute trip to Kubbar Island where we would be diving for the day, and I would be doing the first two of my four dives for my dive certification. I settled into the back of the boat (mom, you may want to stop reading for a minute here) and got a beautiful view of the path we were traveling as I looked from my backwards facing seat.

No problem! We got to the island in no time. Kubbar apparently means"big" in Arabic, but it was not much more than island with two towers and some beaches that would take no longer than 10 minutes to walk around. There were a couple of yachts already anchored there for a weekend of partying. And I don't mean little pleasure boats, I mean yachts.We hooked up to the buoy anchor and suited up. The visibility was about 3 or 4 meters, but the reef is supposed to make this one of the better spots to dive in Kuwait. We went down about 10 meters or so and the visibility was poor. I lost my instructor once, but found him below and behind me when I saw his bubbles. The reef wasn't really much to look at, but some of the fish were really beautiful. Bright yellows, neon blues, all so close I could reach out and touch them.

I finished up with dive one and got back on the boat to get a new tank and it started to hit a little. I'm not sure what did it. Maybe was the headache from the night before, maybe it was being tired, maybe it was a lack of food, maybe it was the acid reflux that I get on occasion that was brought on  by swallowing a little sea water, maybe it was the rocking of the boat, or a combination of it all, but that feeling started to set in. But, it wasn't bad, just the start of stomach dissatisfaction. So, we start dive two and things are fine for awhile. I do all the underwater tests I was supposed to do, but the feeling kept coming on. I think we all know the feeling. That feeling that creeps up on us when we're sick, or after a hard night of drinking. We think that maybe it will go away if we just relax and ignore it. And I think we all know that feeling when that doesn't work, and the inevitable happens. That's when I hit that point and my mind started to do the calculate all the logistics of puking 30 feet underwater. I'd heard that it's not a problem to puke while diving, and I remembered that while I was down there, but that thought was not exactly comfort inspiring at that time. I was going to do this underwater, one way or another. I was too far down to make it up before I lost it. If you're feeling uncomfortable reading this, you're starting to get it. My instructor was always checking in with me to see if I was ok. I signaled that I wasn't and why. He signaled that we were staying put and that I should try to relax. My brain understood, but it is still a very unsettling feeling and my body was thinking that this was just not going to work. Mustafa - my instructor - did a good job of walking me through it, and after I puked about four times, I felt instantly better.

All's well that ends well though. We got back on the boat, I got some water and a couple pieces of watermelon, and after a few minutes, I was back to feeling normal. By this time, it was party central at the island with maybe 2 dozen yachts there for the young, rich, and restless Kuwaitis to blow off some steam. We headed back and the fast choppy ride back was actually more soothing than the rolling waves.

One last thing. We were stopped by the Kuwaiti Coast Guard on the way back. They checked for Civil IDs and were looking for Iranians illegally crossing the border. I still don't have my ID, nor did I have my passport, so I was starting to wonder what was going to happen to me. They took IDs from the other passengers, but never looked at me, or asked for mine. I guess I don't look much like an Iranian. It seems to be that it is still good to be an American in some places around the world. My companions kind of looked confused and chuckled when I asked what they would have done if they had asked for my ID and I didn't produce any. "What do you mean? You're American, they wouldn't have done anything with you."

I wish...

I was warned when I got here, along with all the other new teachers, not to make idle wishes in classes. They told us that often times, students will fulfill those wishes, and that within a day or two you will be presented with the item. You know, we all make little wishes out loud, or in passing that is more a thought than anything else. I wish I had a new belt. I wish I had a good pen that worked. That kind of thing. And bam! "Here you go sir." Always sir. The amount of disposable income these kids have is crazy. I've been told that it's not uncommon to get a brand new iphone or Blackberry, sometimes just because they may think your phone is just too crummy. A woman told me she complimented a woman's broach and the woman gave it to her.

So, the other day I was in class and we were doing a writing assignment about great vacations we had taken. They were kind of groaning about not having real "great" vacations, but rather just kind of dull, ordinary ones. I explained to them that I wouldn't be able to do this assignment with my old students, because many don't have the means to take a vacation, so, more often than not, they have never gone anywhere. "Watch this." my class assistant told me. "How many people have been out of the country?" Everyone raises their hand. "How many have been out of the Gulf?" Again, everyone. "How many people have been to Europe?" Yep, you got it. "When you go to Europe or somewhere else, who stays at the Four Seasons?" A sizable number of students raise their hands. "Wow," I say. "Rough life you guys, maybe next time I should go on vacation with some of you. Who wants to take me on their next vacation with you?" I say without thinking. I quickly realize what I have done as more than a dozen little Arnold Horshacks enthusiastically throw their hands in the air and shout that they want to bring me along with them. Time slows as I think about the dinner conversation that will be happening that night: "My teacher, Mr. A, wants to go on vacation with us. Can we bring him along!?" Shit I think to myself. How literally will they take this? "Or a belt!" I want to say. "I really need a new belt, " as I imagine the parent picking up the phone to ask the school why their teacher is inviting himself on vacation with the student's. It may be me, but it seems like it would be harder to give a poor grade to a student who has put you up in the Four Seasons in Geneva for Christmas break - "Hey, thanks so much, that was fun. Oh, by the way Bobby is getting an F in class, he needs to work to bring that up. Where are we going next?"

So far, and luckily, my vacation calendar remains open. However, I was informed today by a student that she ordered me a power bracelet and it should be here soon. Maybe I need to start working on my Christmas wish list.

Week one done.

I wrapped up my first week of school yesterday, and things are going smoothly. The school is different that what they told me it would be in the interview. I'm not really surprised though. I'm sure that they things many schools tell people are oversold in an effort to attract the best teaches. I don't think it is just my school. I'm sure we are often exaggerated to. For example, our technology was supposed to be top notch, and I'm sure that was probably true - back in the Clinton era. I think that was when my computer was made. It's slow and usually has problems communicating with the office printer which makes life tough. It's funny to watch all the young teachers fresh out of grad school, and in many cases, undergrad. They were raised with all this technology, and used it extensively in their programs, and now they are forced to teach "old school" style, using only a book and a white board.

Really, it's all fine though. I was warned by returning teachers that the kids were behavior problems and that I would really have to put the screws to them. I don't think they understand what behavior problems are. If my Lee coworkers are reading this, you know that you are on the front lines when it comes to behavior management training. We're kind of like the Seal Team Six of teaching. We're implementing CHAMPS (a classroom management strategy), and going about it all ass-backwards. But, it turns out that only two of us (both new to the school have ever used it before), so I am the senior person when it comes to using this program. I volunteered to help the people trying to institute it, and I have become the guru amongst them. They are seeking me out asking for tips on how to run their classes and asking if the school's teachers can come watch me. To be clear, I don't think it's so much that I am any good, it's more that they kids really are good kids and their "behavior problems" are really not problems at all. They are really just rich (and not just kind of rich) kids, with easy lives, that just need a little direction and a firm hand at times.

I was also told that the kids were from all over the world and that we had students from over 30 different countries in the building. Not so much. They are almost exclusively Arab. Kuwaiti, Egyptian, Lebanese, Syrian, and Jordanian, and many hold dual passports, which is where they get their numbers of these foreign kids. There are almost no kids from the US or Europe. For the most part, these kids are very young and naive for their ages. I teach 7th grade, and they are worlds away from the type of lives my previous students led. My current group has no idea that students their own age have such crummy lives and they would fall apart if they had to deal with some of the things my old students did and still do. It's refreshing though to have kids that are really still kids. I now know one big thing that would really help improve teaching in the US. Eliminate all the social problems of the students, and the lives of teachers would be much easier.

My class numbers are between 20 to 26 students, which is outrageous by our school standards, but I know that teachers reading this at home right now would gladly kill to have these numbers. I teach the entire 7th grade, which is about 120 students. I teach 5 out of 8 periods, with a class time of about 45 minutes. I teach 1st and 2nd period. I have 3rd period off, which is when the Arabic teacher uses my room for his class, and then I have lunch. Then I'm back to teaching for 4th and 5th, then off for 6th when the Islamic teacher uses my class and then a prep period 7th. Then, I end my day with on last class for 8th period. Not too shabby of a schedule. My school day lasts from 7-3, which is not too bad, and I think my number of days I have student contact is about 165, which a school year of around 180 days.

I'm pretty good pronouncing the first names - though it's weird to go from Hispanic names to Arab ones. No more Jose and Esmerelda, and hello Jassem and Lulwah. It will take me a little while to get the names and faces down, and a little longer to get the last names, but they all seem good humored about it. I am sometimes call Sir, but more often just Mister. "Hey Mister," is about all I hear. Most can't pronounce my last name, but a few can very well. I am making them call me Mr. A if they can't, because if I don't, it feels like I'm just the hired help. "Mister, will you trim the hedges and edge the lawn?" Asking for the name adds a little more respect than just the title alone. Most have been in the school their entire school lives, so they know each other well, and have created a definite school culture. I'll have to shake it up a little bit. I have a couple of girls who have spent a number of years going to school in the US and Canada, so they are fun to talk to about the differences in the school and cultures. I have very few girls that wear a hijab in school. Everyone has to wear a uniform (and frankly, it's pretty damn cute to see the young elementary school kids in theirs), but the hijab

So we'll see if the first week was just a honeymoon phase, or if they will turn out to genuinely be great kids. Hopefully the later. If so, they will help me look like a really good teacher.

Everybody's working for the weekend

Things are a little different here. Since this is a Muslim country, they have a different holy day and different weekend. While you all are used to a Saturday/Sunday off, we get Friday/Saturday. But, up until about 4 years ago, even that was different. Friday is their holy day, so that would be equivalent to our Sunday. However, since good Muslims pray five times a day (hop to it you slackers!) it doesn't quite equate to the once a week church outings for most of you. The problem arose though, that businesses, particularly banks and those who worked in international markets, were losing 2 business days to the west (in reality, they worked those days anyway to keep up). To remedy this, the Kuwaiti legislature gave up having Thursday off in favor of Saturday. This helps by continuing to allow for the holy day (changing that was definitely NOT an option) and gaining an extra business working day with the rest of the world. So, while you are all working on Friday, think of me relaxing a little, and I'll make sure I give you all a wake up call bright and early on Sunday. Plus, when I get home from work on Sunday, it will almost be time to watch pro football.

No money, no honey.

True words spoken by Abdul, our local Bangladeshi cabbie who was spinning lines of advice like Jay Z. He was mortified that I was not married, and seemed unable to wrap his brain around the fact that I should be getting laid (he chose a different word actually) constantly by some "beautiful, sexy, Arab, Kuwaiti 19 year olds." Apparently I was unaware that this rap video style life existed here in Kuwait. I was under the impression that it was much more austere culture, and when I expressed doubt about easy access to this free-wheeling sex scene, and concern for my personal safety at the hands of said 19 year old's father or brother, he simply said, "No problem!" Ah, well there you go. No problem. I was then informed that for only "10,000 or maybe 5,000 KD (Kuwaiti Dinar, about $40K-$20K US) I could get a girl and I could have many wives. Doing some quick math calculations in my head, I quickly informed Abdul that even one "girl" would be out of my budget, and that under the current circumstances I was bound to die a poor lonely hermit. "But no!" he says, "you want to get the girl, to get the wives. It is good. It is like seeing good foods that you want to eat, so you you go get the foods. You don't want the chicken, chicken, chicken everyday. Some days you want the beef, of the Lebanese, or the American... You need different girls." At this point my cab mates are seriously confused. "Are we talking about food or girls?" they ask Abdul. I have to interject on his behalf at this point since, oddly enough, I am following his high speed ramblings. "Girls," I say "you know like you get bored eating the same thing everyday, so you want to eat different things. He says why [have] one wife when you can have many." "Yes!!" Abdul interjects excitedly. "Chicken, beef, Lebanese!" I shudder as I get a mental picture of an angry father coming after me. "I don't think so Abdul," I say. "I think we need to shoot for someone a little older." He looks at me, furious and bewildered at the same time. "No. Why? Life is short. It is only money and you should enjoy. No chicken, chicken chicken..." I look up to see our building appear a couple blocks away. "Hey! Look, there's our building now. Just pull over right there and we can get out. We're all good Abdul. And, as you said, no money, no honey."

Ramadan

I landed in Kuwait smack dab in the middle of Ramadan, which, to Muslims, is their major religious event. It is a month long observance of the time Mohammed spent alone in a cave in the desert receiving the word of God. For Muslims, it is a time of fasting, prayer, and reflection. They do not eat or drink during daylight hours. For me, it means that pretty much everything has shut down, and that there is not much to do. It also means that I cannot eat or drink in public during daylight hours either. Smoking is also forbidden during this time, and even gum chewing is out. I can do what I want in my own home, but to do any of the above in public would be cause for certain arrest and jail time. Since Kuwaitis are fasting, about 95% of business are closed, including all restaurants and cafes, and they open after the last prayer call at 8:00pm - though some won't open until 9:00 to give their employees time to pray. 

After that, it is on though. They gather the family and eat like it's Thanksgiving every night. So, there is not much for me to do and a lot of time to do it. My work day is short, 9-2 with an hour lunch. Ramadan ends in the 30th, and then I get an Eid (a week long religious holiday) off before school starts.

I'm looking forward to be able to eat and drink while I'm out and about during the day.

My sheets suck.

That is the first thought I had when I entered my apartment. It was not so much the color - electric pink with purple and teal flowers, I can sleep on that - it was that they stiff and scratchy. Like sleeping on plastic. The apartment is not bad though. Just very white, from the walls to the tile floor, to the exposed energy saver bulbs. Accented only by navy blue couches and a red and white striped chair. First up. Shopping for new stuff.

How is Kuwait? Hot and brown. I have gone from one end of the spectrum of the other coming from cool, green Portland. I have learned that Kuwait City is the hottest city in Africa/Middle East, which is saying something, because there are some hot places out there. You know when you are cooking and open the oven and feel that hot blast hit you in the face? That is Kuwait. Hot and dry. There is a wind that comes through most of the time, strongest in the late afternoon and early evening which only pushes the heat harder at you. As for the brown, nearly every building (save our school and apartment building) is a varietal shade. Think of being in a paint store that has a palette of thousands, but only in browns and tans. And that wind often causes dust storms that turns the sky brown.

Another stat I've heard about Kuwait. There are apparently more driving fatalities here than anywhere else in the world. driving here is a little crazy. They have all the traffic laws that we do, the just don't follow or enforce them. Lanes seem to be mere suggestions, and at times you will find five lanes worth of traffic on a four lane road. Or two lanes of traffic on an on or off ramp. Entitlement is the rule for driving in Kuwait. I deserve to be where you are. I've already nearly been in one serious accident, but that's just the way it seems to be. And when crossing the street? One word: Frogger. Be decisive and be quick. Drivers do not stop and they do not swerve to avoid you. If the change direction or speed at all it is usually toward you and faster. Head on a swivel.

I don't mean to make this sound all bad, It just is. It is different than what most of are used to. I'm ready for change and I feel like I need it. I don't think I could have asked for more change than this. Also, I don't think I've been clapped on the back by so many strangers. Certainly not in such a short time. People here can be extremely warm and friendly.

Oh, and thank you Ikea for your sheets.

... and I'm off.

Next time I step off an airplane it will be into at least the 115 degree heat of the Arabian Peninsula. As many of you are well aware of by now, I am headed to Kuwait to teach 7th grade Language Arts in an American school. I have a little time on my hands as I wait in DC for my flight to Kuwait, so I thought I'd be productive and start what I have been telling you all I will do. I have been impressed with every one's support, excitement, and curiosity about my trip, so hopefully this will be a way for people to keep up to date if they are so inclined. In Portland, we see Keep Portland Weird signs and bumper stickers everywhere, and certainly it's citizens do not disappoint, so in honor of that mantra, I thought it would be appropriate to name this blog after what many people will undoubtedly consider weird. Hopefully through this, people will come to gain an understanding of a part of the world of which we know little.

I am excited by my new adventure, and have wanted to do this for a long time. But, it has only been since this spring since I have really gotten off my ass and decided to do something to try to make it happen. I grew up as a product of the system I will now be a part of. My parents taught in international school and I can't help but feel that was a real driving factor in my wanting to try teaching abroad as well. So, after sending out 40+ applications all over the world, I am now off to Kuwait to try my hand at a new school with a different kind of student and I can't wait. So, as they call my flight I will sign off and will write more as I get settled.