One of the things I have wanted from the very beginning of my Peace Corps experience is to grow into a stronger person. I realize now that I should have been careful what I asked for.
It is important to me that you, my dear readers, have an accurate picture of what my life is like here. So here is the absolute truth. Here is what life looks like, “on the ground,” if you will. The nitty gritty. The troubling details. Read on! (Warning: Cats ahead)
I have been to a handful of Expos in my life. Ski Expos. Art Expos. Marathon Expos. But never have I been to an Education Expo that also happened to celebrate Indonesian Independence (achieved August 17th, 1945). Nor have I ever been a celebrity at an Expo.
That all changed this past weekend.
MTsN 2 Paron at the Expo – looking pretty good!
My school and many of the schools in Paron, our local district, participate in a yearly Expo to celebrate the nation’s independence, raise some money for the schools, and get in a little good advertising.
Some of the gurus from my school in our stand, ready to sell jamu to the masses!
As my American readers know, U.S. public schools are usually based around school-districts. Here in Indonesia this is not the case. Parents and students have a variety of options to choose from. There are religious schools, regular public schools, and vocational schools to consider. Getting to see teachers and students manning their school’s stand is a great opportunity, I’m sure, for prospective students to get a feel for what kind of vibe the different schools have to offer.
Inside our stand. Happy 69th Birthday, Indonesia!
Stands sold everything from food to “jamu” (traditional drinks said to have many health benefits) to clothing to handicrafts made by the students. There were dancing competitions and rock bands. And it was PACKED. The whole community seemed to have come out. It was like a big festival of schools!
My school’s stand looked great with its rows of “jamu” bottles, piles of purses, colorful calligraphy, and student-made batik. Some of our students even demonstrated the batik designing process and invited visitors to our stand to try it out for themselves.
The jamu and food table.
Felt pins made by our students – super cute.
Students working on batik.
This year my school also had something that none of the other schools had: me. It is no exaggeration to say that I was literally the only white person. And I certainly was noticed.
Selling jamu with the students. Honestly, I wasn’t much of a saleswoman, but these lovely young ladies totally picked up my slack!
From a marketing perspective, it is important for my school to advertise that they have a native speaking English teacher. That is a hot commodity in these parts. And I want my school to succeed, so I don’t mind chatting it up with the Mayor and taking a bajillion pictures if it will help them.
Posing for pictures with the mayor of Paron.
Of course, when I was mobbed by a crowd of phone-wielding students in the claustrophobically small space of another school’s stand, I was a little overwhelmed. I’m not really the attention type. But in the end it was pretty amusing, and I certainly have a new appreciation for real celebrities. Dear Paparazzi, please just let Brad, Angie, and all their kids enjoy their trip to the grocery store in peace!
Overall, I thought the Expo was pretty neat. It will come as no shock to you that I think education is important, and it was great to see all these different schools, the energy of the teachers and students, and the creativity of what each stand had to offer.
This past week, I spent a much needed weekend-away in the city of Yogyakarta (pronounced “Jogyakarta”). Located in Central Java, Yogyakarta is the cultural capital of the island. According to Lonely Planet, “If Jakarta is Java’s financial and industrial powerhouse, Yogyakarta is its soul.”
My dear friend Mona (my host and tour guide) and me at Malioboro Street – a main attraction for tourists who want to do a little shopping and maybe take a ride in a horse drawn cart.
Yogyakarta is home to unfathomable depths of Javanese culture, and on my first visit I feel like I barely put my toes in the water. But even with just two nights to spare, the cultural richness of the area – which is still headed by a sultan – was immediately apparent. Although Yogyakarta is now home to many lively, modern restaurants and attractions (thanks in part to a large student population), the veins of the city’s history run deep. In short, this past weekend was a time to relax and calm my nerves over a Starbucks coffee, but also to get a little taste of Java’s vast cultural heritage – a combination that is perhaps best found in the city of Yogyakarta.
A trendy little back street – home to some pretty neat art-shops. Here you can see this modern wall mural making a nod to the past – the figure to the left is from traditional puppetry called “Wayang”
I hope you enjoy these first snapshots of my Javanese experience in Yogyakarta!
Taman Sari (Spirit Garden)
Also known in Dutch as “Waterkasteel” (or Water Castle), this palatial complex of pools, waterways, and hidden rooms was built between 1758 and 1765 as a pleasure park for the Sultan. Although much of it is now destroyed or in ruins (the result of war and an 1865 earth quake), the bathing pools have been restored. The ornate stonework that remains is nothing short of breathtaking.
My gracious tour guides – all students at a local university.
The stone work was amazing!
It’s said that the Sultan would choose his women while watching them bathe in these pools.
Here you can see a woman making batik fabric along side some examples of traditional Wayang shadow puppets (on the table). Both are traditional arts of Java and hold deep cultural and historical significance.
Here is a Wayang puppet in progress. Made out of water buffalo hide, this puppet will later be painted to portray a certain character in the Wayang story-line.
The sign reads “Watch Your Head” – these buildings were not made for tall people.
Taman Sari has a series of hidden passages that lead to places like this. Not sure what it is for, but it looked pretty cool!
Some of the ruins.
Kraton (The Sultan’s Palace)
Inside the Kraton
The Sultan’s Palace is located within what is essentially a walled city that currently houses around 25,000 people, some of whom still work for the Sultan himself.
Part of the sultanate’s family tree – in traditional Javanese writing.
Traditional Javanese culture has a concept that power emanates from the center. For this reason, the Kraton’s innermost buildings are where the Sultan still resides – his concentrated power radiating to the rest of the Kraton and, indeed, to the rest of the island of Java. This part of the Kraton was constructed between 1755 and 1756 and is a very impressive example of traditional Javanese palace architecture. In the 1920’s, however, various stylistic touches were added that clearly show European influence.
It’s Javanese, it’s European, it might even be a little bit Chinese…but whatever it is, it represents the myriad influences that have passed through this island.
I wouldn’t mind being invited for dinner here…although I probably wouldn’t stop staring at the ceiling.
Traditional Wayang shadow puppets.
We just missed the performance – another reason to go back!
I look forward to going back to Yogyakarta, hopefully soon! There is so much I haven’t seen yet, and you can be sure that I will share it with you when I do!
We couldn’t resist a ride in a “dokar” – or horse drawn cart. Special thanks to Mona for showing me around! Vielen Dank!!!
Just as language and culture are different here in Indonesia, school is different. How different and in exactly what ways are still questions I am trying to answer (and probably will be grappling with for the next two or more years!).
Of course, in some ways, school looks the same. There is the school building with classrooms and an office. There are teachers and there is a principal. Students attend classes such as math, science, Indonesian, English, and P.E. My students, much like the American middle schooler, are awkward and endearing.
This is the view walking into my school.
But when I walk into the teacher’s lounge at the beginning of my day and am expected to shake all the hands of my fellow female teachers (who all sit on the same side of the room), but none of the males’ (sitting on the other side), unless they offer first, I know that I have entered a different world. In this world I am the only woman not wearing a headscarf. In this world teachers leave school grounds at 10am to attend a wedding. When the teachers leave at 10am, they are no longer responsible for the students – neither to ensure that they get home safely, or that they do not wreak havoc on the school facilities. And in this world the students manage to arrive home in one piece and, to my knowledge, abstain from wreaking havoc. This is not America, my friends.
Students performing a dance routine for our end of year competitions.
All of this means that I have had to do two things since getting here: observe and wait.
Peace Corps recognizes that we volunteers, some of us with very limited classroom teaching experience, are being plunged into an unknown world that looks sometimes misleadingly similar to the system we were schooled in back home. As such, we are expected to observe before taking on the classroom alongside our Indonesian counterparts. I settled with my counterpart on an observation period of two weeks. Pretty simple, right?
Apparently not in this world. This is where the “wait” part comes in. I have been here at permanent site for over two months now. The first two weeks students were taking end of year tests. Then we had a week of “class meeting,” which consisted of competitions amongst the students. Then we had a teacher’s workshop (that was quite good). Then two weeks of vacation. After that we had one week of school with a few sporadic, extremely short classes and lots of students running around and doing things to celebrate Ramadan. Then we had two more weeks of vacation. Finally, this week, we went back to school in what I thought would be full force.
Rookie mistake. While I have now attended a handful of classes – possibly adding up to a week’s worth of observation – this week’s lessons have constantly been interrupted by teachers being out, a wedding, and a meeting amongst all the Ministry of Religious Affairs teachers in our district for Halal bi Halal – a post Ramadan tradition of gathering and asking one another for forgiveness.
A more intimate gathering of just the teachers from my school and their families for Halal Bi Halal.
Before you, or I, jump to any negative judgments about the efficacy of this system, I want to point out that these are early days – both in the sense of the school year and my experience here. I see that it is important for teachers to feel the sense of community built around events like weddings and Halal bi Halal. I don’t want to diminish that in any way. I also hear that things will pick up and become relatively more consistent after this first week.
But, as important as it has been for me to observe these past few (sort-of) weeks of school, I am tired of waiting. I feel like the little kid on the edge of the basketball court jumping up and down crying, “Put me in, Coach! Put me in!”
Outside the classroom of Class 7 Accelerated, one of my classes – let’s get this show on the road!
Next week I will start teaching. I am slightly terrified, and I have moments when I feel terribly unprepared. But I am more than ready. My American might be showing, but I need to work. There is a whole commentary on societal priorities, identity, and work-ethic here that I will save for another day, but let us suffice to say that I have realized that without having some sort of active work to pour myself into, I definitely won’t feel satisfied.
So here goes! Wish me luck, and, “Put me in, Coach!”
Worth a Journey 