My life has changed dramatically--I teach middle school now!

I have officially completed my first week teaching middle school at Aurora West College Preparatory Academy.  I also technically teach two freshman in high school, too.  I am teaching ELD (English Language Development) to 6th, 7th, 8th, and 9th graders.  I am definitely having more fun than I was the past three years.  I think it might be a) switching classes after 65 minutes and b) seeing all of my wonderful kids from Crawford.  There have been a few signs that I have come across that have helped me to feel like I am where I am supposed to be.  I will share the most impacting (names are not mentioned to protect ids of students :-)

#1 was one of my most challenging kids last year. He was challenging because he is pretty amazing but succumbs well to peer pressure. He wants to be good but would come in the morning and say, "I'm going to be bad today."  He is also the kid who will work hard for weeks for the poster sized Cougar ROAR I made for him.  So on my first day at West, I was in the auditorium for the 6th grade assembly.  As students are sitting quietly, I hear, "MS. MILLEN! MS. MILLEN!"  I look across the auditorium and standing up, waving, among everyone else sitting, is #1.  Yep, I am exactly where I am supposed to be.

#2 has been my most challenging student by far for just about the last three years.  I have had many laughs with him but also have shed many tears at his expense.  He's not necessarily my most challenging student, but rather my biggest challenge in teaching.  I have had to change my teaching style in numerous ways to support #2 in a positive way.  People ask me why I would want to have him again in my class, and as much as it would be easy to have a year off, I know that the relationship I have built with him will be so beneficial to a successful start to middle school (and high school) for him.  Plus, I do it for my students--all of them.  So Thursday after school, I was walking back to my classroom and I saw #2 in the hallway.  School had been out for 20 minutes and all that were left were stragglers.  #2 was walking confidently back into the school.  When I asked where he was going, he said to open his locker that he couldn't open yet.  I asked if he wanted help--"Yah."  So I watched him open it once.  Showed him how to turn it the right way, gave him some pointers and voila! He got it!  He tried it a few more times and said to me proudly, "Ms. Millen, I know it now."  As we were walking away, he said, "Let me just try it one more time by myself.  But can you wait over there just in case I need you?"  So I watched, thinking about how far he (we) had (have) come.  After he tried it by himself a couple more times, we went in opposite directions.  As I turned the corner back to my room, I glanced back and looked at him one more time.  At that moment, he turned away from the front door, headed back to his locker with a big smile on his face--dimples and all.

#3 is a student I knew in a much different capacity.  When her family moved to the US from Thailand as Karenni refugees two years ago, Meaghan, Adam, Kirsten and I were the family's mentors.  For background, here is a part of my Invisible T/EX application that shows what I learned first from #3:

Please discuss an experience that did not have the outcome that you expected or hoped for, and expound on it as a learning opportunity.
Last fall, I and three of my close friends became mentors for a Karenni refugee family from Burma.  After setting up their apartment and making sure we were prepared to cook their first meal, we went to pick them up at the airport.  I had expected people that I would eventually build a lifelong relationship with after getting to know them and supporting them in their new country.  Several things got in the way of this aspiration.  The first was cultural barriers.  We were never sure how to plan an outing or meeting with the family.  Although they did have a cell phone (which we helped them buy), we couldn’t call them because with our language barriers, the messages were always unclear.  We felt it was rude to just show up unannounced, but this seemed to be our only way to spend time with them.  When we did just show up, we would make a plan with them for the next time we would come over.  Sometimes, after planning that we were coming, they wouldn’t be home.  We also realized that the family was becoming busy and had less free time.  They had begun to build their own support system through other Karenni refugees in the community.  We would try to plan something, and our family was unable to attend due to other plans.  

What I had hoped to be a rewarding experience became disappointing as communication began to dwindle.  We eventually lost touch with the family completely.  It got to the point of being so long, that it seemed strange and awkward to do anything about it.  These were people that we had all intended to become close with, but we all knew we had failed.  I recently saw the father and youngest daughter as he was enrolling her at my school.  Despite us, they have acclimated to American society without losing their Karenni heritage.  Seeing the two again a year later makes me wish I could start over with them.  Looking back, I would have done the whole experience in a different way.  I would have been more independent and not so reliant on my friends.  I learned that I shouldn’t rely on others to change things.  If I want to see change, I need to be the advocate.  

So imagine my surprise when I see #3's name on my roster. On the second day of school, I asked her if she remembered me and she shook her head. I told her, "When your family came to the United States, I helped you. I helped you go to school and I went with you to East [Middle School]." Her reply was, "Jessica?" with a smile..."Yes, but now you have to call me Ms. Millen."

So the second thing I learned from #3 is that I never know the impact I make on my students. Even if it feels like I have failed in some way, I will never truly know. When she said my name, I had goose bumps. What seemed like a lack of support to me, had impacted her enough to remember my name.

And these testimonials are why I made the switch. Best. Decision. Ever.

Munu bye

So after officially being home for almost two weeks, I have really been able to process everything and think about the direction I am going in.  Justine had asked me a week before we left as we walked to the ICU office to shadow mentors, how I was feeling about the trip.  At that moment, I said that I felt like I wasn't taking it all in like I should be and I almost felt numb and needed to go home to process everything.  I had been thinking this for a couple of weeks and as soon as it came out of my mouth, I suddenly came to life.  After much anticipated waiting, I walked with Stella, an ICU mentor, to a home in the nearby village.  We met Muse Peter, the uncle and guardian of a Senior 4 Sacred Heart Student, also by the name of Stella.  Stella, the student, has been receiving the Legacy Scholarship for 2 years.  Invisible Children gives scholarships that covers school fees and includes a mentor to students who have potential for academic achievement and also have vulnerabilities.  Stella is a partial orphan whose father was killed by the LRA and whose mother lives in a village much further away.  Stella's mother is HIV positive.  Stella lives with her uncle in Gulu when she is not boarding at Sacred Heart.  Peter's legs are paralyzed from multiple strokes.  Despite this families hardships, Peter talked about his academic and professional career in the medical field and asked Stella (the mentor) to go into his house to get something.  What she came out with is 3 framed photographs of his children graduating from University.  He proceeded to point to the surrounding huts and houses, explaining how each of his children had succeeded in one way or another and were able to build their homes.  Peter was able to buy his land in Gulu after the Amin insurgency has ceased; it was previously owned by the government. Peter talked about how proud he was of Stella and his own children for working hard and going to university.  I told Peter how I was the only university graduate in my family and how proud I was of my mom for working hard and going to college.  He laughed at the differences in our cultures and ended with an Apwoyo ba!  As Stella and I left, Peter apologized that his chickens had recently died from some sort of chicken disease, but if he had had one, he would have given it to me as a gift for my visit.  Below is a photo of Peter and his granddaughter, Angel.

 
It has never been so hard for me to leave a place before.  In the past when I have traveled, I miss the place.  The people that I usually come close with are Americans or other travelers.  Of course I miss Acholiland and Gulutown.  Of course I miss the other 27 Americans and Canadians I lived with.  In fact, I think because of our close living quarters and our like-mindedness of being both travelers and teachers, it was definitely harder to say goodbye, especially to a small few.

Lauren and I

   Room 2 Girls: Pakou, me, Kellen and Erin

 Pablo and I at Layibi College in our Layibi uniforms

                                                                                                                  
          These people will always be in my heart and I truly hope our paths will cross again, either on a red African dirt road or else where.  I think what made my departure even harder was to say goodbye to the Acholi (and Lango) people whom I had gotten to know so well and so quickly.  Like the North Americans, spending so much time with like-minded people was overwhelming once it had come to an end.  Saying goodbye to Francis, Ario and Bua was unthinkable.  I tried on my last day at school and Ario said, "We must not say our goodbyes now.  You must come tomorrow.  For me, I am not ready."  And for me, I was not ready.

 Ochola Francis, Atim Jessica, Bua Geoffrey, Ario Gilbert

                                   

On Saturday, I said goodbye to Michael Jackson, Carol and Evelyn, the ICU staff that worked at our house.  I will miss Michael Jackson's kind heart, Evelyn's sweet smile, and Carol chasing me around in the morning, noticing that I haven't taken my tea; at night, standing next to the dinner pots and making me take everything.

And also, our Layibi boda driver and friend, Francis.  Francis told us before departing that he had told his mother about us. She told him to take a goat to give us as a gift for being his friend.  Francis explained to his mother that the goat would not be permitted on the transport back to the United States.

When asked if I am ready to leave, the answer was/is always no with tears in my eyes. When asked if I will return next summer, the answer is always yes with tears in my eyes.  When asked why I am not ready to leave and what makes me return, the answer is always the same:  I have never felt more welcomed, more at home and more safe in any other place I have traveled.  And yes, I know it is the people that makes me feel this way.  A few weeks in, Ochola Francis had given me my Acholi name, Atim.  He told me it meant one not from the original village.  At first I was disappointed, I didn't think it had anything to do with my personality.  After a few days, I had accepted it, thinking that it fit my expat wannabe lifestyle.  But now, looking back, there is nothing that sounds better.  Atim means that even though I was born somewhere other than Acholiland, I am still Acholi.  I have embraced the culture in a much deeper level than I have ever before.  For me, I am Acholi.  Acholi bye, for us, we will meet again.

  Although it felt bittersweet for out last weekend, we traveled south to Jinja for bungee jumping and rafting on the Nile.

I am in the third row, red helmet, face in the water

Invisible Children Blog

http://blog.invisiblechildren.com/2011/07/how-is-the-teacher-exchange-faring/

rain, rain, go away!

When it rains in Gulu, it pours—literally. Everything shuts down. When it begins to rain, you are basically stuck until it stops. I have seen many teachers cancel class due to the rain—not because they don't want to get wet but it is impossible to walk to class because the streets turn to red rivers and the rain pounds so heavily on the roof, you cannot hear the person next to you.

Monday, I was teaching a Senior 2 KOBS (Knowledge of Behavior and Self) class with Ario Gilbert at Saint Joseph's College Layibi when the rain came. My boda boda driver, Francis, had warned me earlier that the rain would come around 6. Boda drivers may as well be weathermen. The lesson, which was about friendship, went well with more than usual participation from the students. It is uncommon for students to discuss concepts and ideas in a Northern Ugandan classroom, so KOBS does a nice job of allowing students to open up to each other. Midway through the lesson, as I was explaining the meaning of sense of humor to the students, it had begun to rain. Luckily, we were able to finish the lesson. Although the lesson came to an end at 4:30, we continued well past after 5. I had wondered at first why we were going over the allotted time, but then realized that we were stuck—Ario Gilbert, approximately 70 students and I. No one said anything about the rain but continued teaching/learning as if it were not yet time. By 5:15 or so, the 40 minute lesson could no longer be stretched out. The students pleaded with Ario Gilbert for me to tell them something. I wasn't exactly sure what they wanted to hear, so I suggested that since they had just learned how to ask questions to new people they meet in order to make friends, they could ask me questions. They asked so many questions ranging from, “What changes have you experienced in Uganda?” to “Do you like Akon?” The students desperately wanted me to sing—which I can't—so I asked them to sing to me, “I'm not afraid/ To take a stand/ Everybody...” I love how education here seems so different than teaching in the US, but is always quick to remind me how similar it is. With 70 Acholi boys huddled around me, all talking at once, I suddenly felt like I was back at home in my own classroom.

So the rains continued, but around 5:45 we were finally able to leave the classroom. The classrooms are in buildings but the buildings are separated from each other. In order to make it to the gate, we would have to cross something just smaller than the Nile. So again, we waited—this time outside under an awning. My phone rang. As I searched for it in my backpack, I assumed it was one of the other Teacher Exchange participants wondering where I was. To my surprise, Francis, my boda driver, was checking to make sure that I was okay and to tell me he could come for me after the rains subsided. Every day I am amazed by how caring and hospitable the Acholi people are. I was able to spend the next 45 minutes simply talking with Ario Gilbert. We were finally able to make it to the gate where I waited another 30 minutes for Francis to arrive at Layibi. When we left, the roads were still very bad—flooded and muddy. All I could think was, “Please keep my on this boda in an upright position.”

At around 7:30 (three hours late), I walked into our house to hugs and greetings from my worrisome friends. It is so nice to know that we are like family here. But when it rains, be prepared to hang out for a while and it will be just fine.

P.S. Apparently, the lightning strikes in Gulu have made international news.  Although the lightning is especially crazy here, I am fine.  I refrain from showering outside when we are out of water :-)  The lightning strikes have been very close to our home; however, my mother raised me to be extra cautious so I always make sure I am indoors.  Also, the Acholi people insist that I should not use my cell phone during a storm.  Thanks for thinking about me and the many people who have been affected by the storms.

Uganglish

After officially being in Gulu classrooms for almost a week, I have been working on changing my American accent and the way I talk. `When speaking to Ugandans, us Americans have to speak with a fake British accent of sorts while annunciating and speaking at a slower rate. I also have to use words and phrases that are much different from what I would normally say. It is important to add transitions into all sentences such as therefore and in order to. I am always caught off guard when someone says you are welcome but I haven't yet said thank you. Sentence starters like “Let it be....1000 shillings” and “For me, I like...” are crucial. Teachers don't plan, they scheme, which sounds mischievous.

Speaking in the classroom has been my biggest challenge with my accent. I spent my first day with Ochola Francis teaching Senior 1 Math (Maths in Ugalish) which is equal to 7^th grade. Even with my best attempt at the Acholi accent, Francis restated everything I had already said with, “What she is saying is she is from the United States...” The students mostly laughed and imitated what they believe an American accent sounds like, something like a short and nasally sound. It literally feels like I am speaking another language. Through one of my grad school classes this past semester, I learned that speakers of new languages cannot truly be themselves when speaking in the new language, having to develop a new language identity. This is exactly what it feels like—I can't really express myself the way I normally would. Especially teaching. My teaching style doesn't quite fit into my Ugandan English which will be a huge learning experience to me. I think that being able to teach while being conscientious about how I am saying things will be difficult.

Expect the Unexpected

Expect the Unexpected, not because I am on Big Brother, but ironically, Invisible Children's motto is also Expect the Unexpected and for good reason. It fits very will with TIA, This is Africa, always remembering that not everything is going to go as planned and, frankly, there is nothing you can do about it because TIA. Our expectations were cut short arriving at the JFK airport. Our flight to London was delayed which meant we would not make our flight to Entebbe. This ended up being a wonderful surprise as we were able to spend the day in London.

After what seemed like the longest 3 days ever, we finally made it to Gulu, dirty and smelly. We spent the week in orientations learning about Gulu, education in Northern Uganda, the conflict, and Invisible Children. The things that IC is doing here is truly amazing. I was aware of all of their programs but didn't realize the extent of how big they really were. IC is actually creating a sustainable NGO that is making a difference here. With only 4 expat staff, the IC Uganda office is ran by Ugandans. The community based projects support the education of students and the economies of the villages that they live in. It has been so wonderful to get to meet so many Acholi people and to have been “most welcomed” into their culture.

Monday Lauren and I packed up and made the 2 hour bumpy dirt road drive to Awere with Catherine, where we were supposed to teach. We drove through Odek, the village where Joseph Kony is from (LRA Rebel Leader, wanted by the International Criminal Court for war crimes against humanity) and it just felt plain eerie. Upon arriving at Awere, things were simply just not ready. Our housing accommodation wasn't quite up to our American standards of security. So we loaded everything back in the mutatu (bus-van-thing) and through Catherine's poised explanation, we headed straight back to Gulu. It was very shameful as the people of the village were very disappointed that the munus were leaving. When we unexpectedly arrived back at the house, I saw the 10 faces we had left behind in the doorway. I was overcome with an overwhelming feeling that we had returned to our family and our home. I knew then that we had done what was best for us. I spent the next day at Sir Samuel Baker Secondary School which is in Gulutown where I was expecting to be replaced for the summer. Again with the expectations! I walked in the door of our house to find Lindsey. She asked how I liked it. When I responded positively, she said great, tomorrow you will go to Layibi.

So here I am sitting outside the staff room at Saint Joseph College Layibi. I am a week behind, finally having my first round table with my 3 partner teachers and Catherine today. I will be teaching S1 Math (8^th grade) with Ocola Francis and KOBS (Knowledge of Behavior and Self) with Bua Geoffrey and Ario Gilbert to S1 and S2 (8^th/9^th grade). Layibi is like the Regis of high schools here in Gulu. It is currently the top school in everything they do in Northern Uganda. Before the war, schools in Northern Uganda were all in the top 100, many in the top 10. Layibi has just made the top 100 at #54 in the nation. It is an all boys Catholic boarding private school. There are about 1200 boys here. Everyday for lunch, Pablo, Jenni and I are escorted to a small room with a private lunch with our partner teachers. It feels kind of strange, knowing that the teachers eating in the staff room are eating posho and beans (posho=corn substance that looks like mashed potatoes but is harder). So everyday, I will ride a boda boda (motor bike-ish) for 2000 shillings and back to my house. Currently we live with 15 people until group 2 arrives in which case it will be 30 and Michael Jackson on security detail. I love it. I love everything about it. Every day and every person. Apwoyo ba!!   

what draws me to uganda

http://www.active.com/donate/teacherexchange2011/texJMillen
I have always supported Invisible Children and its cause.  Since the moment I discovered the teacher exchange program about 4 years ago, I immediately knew it was for me.  I had recently taken an interest in Africa but unsure of what my role could be.  It surprised me to learn that so many children were being abducted and forced to commute to remain safe.  I began to read memoirs written by writers who had grown up in East Africa.  I was heartbroken but at the same time inspired to do something.  I couldn’t fathom the idea of what it meant to be an internally displaced person.  I knew about refugees, but the idea of being forced to remain in your country but away from your home and still not be safe was something so foreign to me.  In college, I had studied Ethnic Minority Studies and had focused much of my learning around Latin America.  I had strong understandings of dictatorships and the need for a country and its people to have a fair and just government.  After learning about Invisible Children, I was able to really start to understand the true conflicts that cover Africa.  Each region’s conflict is different, but is ultimately the same.  I remember the feeling I had when I first stumbled upon the teacher exchange program.  I felt excited with and immediate rush of adrenaline that soon turned to fear.  I knew I was not ready.  I had just graduated college and was looking for a teaching job.  I was unsure of where my future would lead me, but was convinced that this opportunity would go beyond my capacity.  Who was I to think that I could change something so grave?  Well, in time and with experience, now I wonder, “Who am I not to think I can change something so grave?”

            I have had many experiences since that day that have led me to where I am now.  Only a few months later, I found my perfect job.  I would teach half time in a classroom and the other half of my day would be working with second language learners.  It seemed perfect and has thus far been both my greatest achievement and biggest learning experience.  Working at Crawford, where approximately 80% of students are second language learners and 90% of students receive free and reduced lunch, I am challenged everyday with outside factors out of my control that students must overcome in order to be successful.  I would have never imagined these obstacles that my students face in my own school experience. 

            Our school community has had a recent influx of refugees.  The first to come was a Somali family who had lived in Kakuma in Kenya.  My first year of teaching, I met Mohamed.  Mohamed, who didn’t know any English or how to write his name, spent his days sobbing.  He was bullied and thought everyone was against him.  I got to know Mohamed about three months into his enrollment because he was in my beginning English Language Development class.  Still hardly knowing any English, he was timid and trusted no one.  Eventually, Mohamed began to feel safe and started to acquire English.  With time, he began to smile, make friends and enjoy school.  My second year, I had Mohamed in my 4^th grade literacy class.  At the same time, our refugee population began to expand.  My classroom had drastically changed since the year before.  Instead of just having Spanish and English speaking students, I had Mohamed who spoke Kiswahili, Bhutanese refugees who spoke Nepali and Burmese refugees both from the Karen and Karenni groups.  Although these newcomers have challenged my thinking both professionally and personally, they have become my passion.  I realized just how impacted these students were after having a conference with Mohamed’s dad the second semester of Mohamed’s 4^th grade year.  He told me that Mohamed was born in Kakuma and had never lived anywhere else.  He had never been to school.  This was surprising to me because even though I knew Mohamed was a refugee, he had always said he used to live in a big house in Nairobi.  The next day, I told Mohamed that his dad had told my about Kakuma and that I hoped he would tell me about it sometime.  Suddenly, he was writing and talking about Kakuma all the time.  I knew he finally felt safe.

 I currently teach 5^th grade math, science and social studies.  I continue to work with second language learners as an English Language Acquisition Teacher Leader.  In my current classroom, nine out of twenty-five students are refugees, including Mohamed (who happens to be one of my highest students).  Most of these students are newcomers and have very limited English.  I am grateful for the opportunity to work with these students because I know they have tremendous stories.  They also have hope and perseverance.  They are able to come to school every day, smile, laugh, learn and know peace.  They are the lucky ones that have been afforded a new life outside of their conflict zones.  Through these experiences, I have learned to always have hope to change something.  Just the other day, one of my refugee students was wearing a shirt that said, “Out of Chaos, Hope”.  It was an inspiring reminder that regardless of where or what someone comes from, there is always a possibility to better one’s life.

I want to go to Uganda because I believe that every child should have an equal right to a quality education no matter where or what they have come from.  I have realized my passion lies in not only teaching, but helping those who have known conflict find peace.  Students cannot learn if they do not feel safe and education is the only way to make a systematic change.  Now, without any doubts, I know I am ready for this challenging opportunity.

I expect this trip to be challenging and trying.  I expect to learn about myself as a person and as an educator.  I expect to learn about Ugandan and Acholi culture.  I expect it to be unforgettable.  Everything else will surprise me.

http://www.active.com/donate/teacherexchange2011/texJMillen