Observations | Teaching update, honey, girls' dorm

MY OFFICE – It never ceases to amaze me how God provides, all the time.

Almost as soon as I got here, I used my only worship I’ve ever done that I really, really like: the infamous Chiefs/Faith one (which, on a slow news day, I might post here…). I’ve flipped through my Max Lucado Bible and my copy of Oswald Chamber’s “My utmost His highest” every morning, finding the former to be too soft and the latter to be too condemning. I’ve tried to take stories of stuff that’s happened to me, catalogue it, and “stockpile” it for when I need it.

But then I wouldn’t have to rely on the Lord like I have. For morning worship, I rarely know what I’m going to speak on until a few minutes before, and I usually have a decent way of presenting it. Night worships have gone more… creative, I’d say. I’ve already told about the story I told to both dorms about my fictional sister dying. One night I explained the ACTS prayer, the pattern that many biblical prayers and psalms follow. Both of these lectures, among others, were things that my peers had taught me in academy. In time, I’d forgotten them, but God brought them back to my memory to (hopefully) touch the lives of my 50 guys.

Heck, people from home are still supplying me with stories and anecdotes I use for worships in the dorm. My uncle David doesn’t know that an email he sent me fairly recently was the subject of a talk for the guys. An AP photographer had taken a picture of a woman, holding out her government-issued Red Cross debit card with $2,000 worth of relief on it. However, the photographer forgot to blur out the card number and the expiration date. Within 3 minutes of the photo being published online, the vultures of the internet had drained the card down to 64 cents left. My “Jesus slant”: “Satan prowls like a roaring lion, seeking who he may devour.” (1 Peter 5:8) Thank you, Tio David.

How fascinating that God is with me, even in something as seemingly mundane as dorm worship. He isn’t going to let me down. Thanks to those of you at home, emailing me, keeping me updated with what’s going on. You might be telling a story to more people than you think.

Three Observations:

1. Ok, so maybe I jumped the gun a little… So I might have the hang for this teaching thing after all. The morning after I wrote about not feeling like I was doing too splendid of a job in molding our young minds to understand English, I found myself explaining adjectives and description to the Sophomore class. We went through a story filled with incredible detail and lots of visuals, simplifying sentences down to the “most boring we can possible make them.” I think the class really got how much better it is to write to “show, not tell”. Thanks Mr. Blake!
   
   In Senior English, I didn’t have as wonderful an experience, but not bad, either. One student was complaining to me she’d already gotten the assignment finished while I was leading discussion over the answers. Frustrated, I dismissed the class and was surprised to see all but the girl (and her whipped boyfriend) exit the classroom; everyone else wanted more help. It made me wish I could teach my own class – not just sub for someone else’s room – and make students come for worship and announcements, and then dismiss the class. If you don’t to be here, then leave. After the bad apples left, everyone else would go over the assignment.
   
   As for the Juniors, I’m still just overwhelmed by how they’re more mature than the other classes, but haven’t acquired Senioritis yet. They read The Crucible, and whenever a character “sees the devil,” they groan and roll their eyes and mumble “Whatever, she’s so dumb, I hate her.” Today, we finished the story, and I was pleased to actually hear gasps at the end when one of the main characters was hanged. Awesome kids, I tell ya.


2. “The first step is admitting you have a problem…” Last week, on our town trip into Nairobi, we found out that when served ice tea or lemonade here in Kenya, you’re also presented a “shot glass” of honey. The drinks here aren’t sweetened at all, and they’re incredibly sour and tart, so you need it to make your drink bearable.
   
   This week, on our trip into town, we decided to change things a bit and get some coffee from the other nice chain here, Dormans. My SM counterparts all ordered fruit smoothies, but I stayed strong, ordering another Kenyan coffee.When it came out, I was surprised to see I was brought the honey shot glass. It took a small sip of my coffee and realized that it was unsugared. The honey was to go in the coffee. Ewwww!
   
   I let the condiment sit on the table as I went through my cup’o’joe, never wanting to add it into my drink and destroy the taste. Valerie noticed and made a joke about it, and I retorted by daring the girl to “down it, down it!”
   
   Not wanting to back down from the challenge, Val picked it up, tossed her head back, and put the whole cup of bees’ goo down. The rest of us exploded into laughter, watching her try to process all the sugar that’d just entered her body. She set the empty goblet down, looking pleased that she’d just re-gained our respect and equally sick that she’d just downed a cup of honey.
   
   I’m sure this is alcoholism’s first step.


3. The drama of a dorm… a girls’ dorm. On a very serious note, we’re having some pretty difficult issues here on campus, all surrounding the other dorm. Last week, Valerie had to twice investigate the room of a girl who’d lost her key. The first time, the vandals came in and stole money and a family heirloom (a jewelry box) from the girl. They left everything else in the room… just thrown onto the floor.
   
   Then, on Sabbath afternoon, the girl walked into her room to again find all her and her roomate’s stuff, tossed upon the floor. Nothing was stolen this time, mind you, but these girls still felt the need to “leave the mark.” We believed it was a pretty cocky move, and we vowed to catch the hooligans.
   
   Then, everything went down yesterday while we were on our afternoon off. We came back to find the girl’s room had been messed up again – with nothing stolen once more. The staff decided that we’d had enough – it was time for drastic measures. We voted to put the whole girls dorm under room-bound until the key was returned. A lady must be in her room unless she was in class, at work, or in the café, and in the cafeteria, they couldn’t sit with guys.
   
   Valerie was prepared to tell the girls the following morning, since Mrs. VerSteeg was on duty then. She, not VerSteeg, would be the bearer of the bad news. Wanting to keep our minds occupied, all the SMs went down to the elementary school to continue our tradition of watching a movie on the day off. Afterwards, we walked back to our places and said goodnight for the night…
   
   Or so we thought. Valerie called us about an hour later, describing the scene in the dorm. Apparently, right after rec, the dorm was unlocked and the girls flooded in. Two girls, different from the other two vandalized, entered their room to find their room messed up, but with a twist: pictures we thrown to the ground, notebooks ripped in half, and one girl (a good, honest kid) swore she saw a demon running by.
   
   Needless to say, the dorm was a borderline riot. Mrs.V spent the rest of the night – until midnight – calming the girls down. Everyone was in the chapel when Valerie came in, singing hymns, praying, cheeks red from tears. Apparently, a few girls have been reading “spiritually questionable” books lately. And the girl who’s great-grandmother’s jewelry box was stolen? Turns out that great-grandmother had toyed with witchcraft at one point. Great.
   
   So room-bound was put off for a while, to let the smoke clear a bit. I was a little cynical about this whole “seeing demons stuff;” I mean, how ironic, that the night before one of the biggest corporal punishments this school has ever seen, and people flip out. While I’m 100% sure that no staff told students, these are the rumor queens of Kenya. If something happens 6 hours away, the girls know immediately. They somehow could have heard about the lockdown and realized something drastic had to be done.
   
   However, Mrs. V insisted to me that wasn’t the case. Even she, seeing what had happened at the crime scene, felt the presence of evil, and after a few minutes straight of praying, it seemed to go away. She said the way the girls were acting, something supernatural was definitely going on. And at this school – an oasis of Christianity on the Dark Continent – we’re bound to receive extra attack angels from the devil.
   
   It’s a bunch of scariness, it is. It’s especially troubling to me, being on duty in this dorm tonight. Keep me, my kids, and my school in your prayers, please.

Ok, I am out. Again, remember to keep MAA in your prayers, and don’t forget to write! In case you forgot:

chrisw@maxwellsda.org chrisw@maxwellsda.org chrisw@maxwellsda.org chrisw@maxwellsda.org chrisw@maxwellsda.org chrisw@maxwellsda.org chrisw@maxwellsda.org chrisw@maxwellsda.org chrisw@maxwellsda.org chrisw@maxwellsda.org chrisw@maxwellsda.org chrisw@maxwellsda.org chrisw@maxwellsda.org chrisw@maxwellsda.org chrisw@maxwellsda.org chrisw@maxwellsda.org chrisw@maxwellsda.org chrisw@maxwellsda.org chrisw@maxwellsda.org chrisw@maxwellsda.org chrisw@maxwellsda.org chrisw@maxwellsda.org chrisw@maxwellsda.org chrisw@maxwellsda.org chrisw@maxwellsda.org chrisw@maxwellsda.org chrisw@maxwellsda.org chrisw@maxwellsda.org chrisw@maxwellsda.org chrisw@maxwellsda.org chrisw@maxwellsda.org chrisw@maxwellsda.org chrisw@maxwellsda.org chrisw@maxwellsda.org chrisw@maxwellsda.org chrisw@maxwellsda.org

Now you have no excuse. Later!

-cw