Noticed.

I can't go outside without getting stared at.

Moto drivers that sit outside the market know where I live although they have never taken me.

What I say is noticed.

How I react.

How I behave.

How I look.

Everything is noticed.

Today I was walking home with one of my students who works on the mission in the afternoon.

We saw fake $100 bills that had been put out for the spirits and I picked one up.

As we were walking the final road to the church a young man who lives down the street started walking next to me, bouncing a ball, and counting the bounces in Khmer.

I smiled and counted with him.

I saw him eye the fake $100 bill in my hand, glancing from my face to my hand and back again.

I debated handing it to him or tucking it into my bag. But I settled for crumpling it in my hand and pretending not to see his glances.

Everything is noticed.

Last week at school I was grumpy. My children were being terrible and I was having none of it. During break time they asked me, Teacher, you no happy today? Why?

The following break time I was presented with snacks and a "we love teacher annie" card.

Everything is noticed.

On Saturday night Phil, Olga and I were riding our bikes to school to go play games with the dorm kids. I tried to cross the street without enough caution and was hit by a moto. I have significant bruising.

On Monday at school a large number of students and teachers noticed the bruises on my legs and asked.

Everything is noticed.

We've had, not drama, but some situations in our SM group. It's not really something I want to discuss on the internet. But, we found out that is has been noticed. Some people outside of the foreigners have been asking questions about us.

Everything is noticed.

I am led to wonder if I am noticed for the right things. For the things that I came here to represent. I teach bible class every day in my room. But I know that in the end my actions will mean more than my words. Have my actions been enough?

Today I was in the back of my classroom getting ready to leave for the day while Olga was starting special choir. A few of my boys were talking and I shushed them and motioned for them to turn around and pay attention. They complied with a smile and salute.

Olga had them stand for prayer, it would have been just as easy to continue what I was doing quietly in the back of the room. But I paused what I was doing to bring my hands together at chin level and close my eyes along with the room full of students.

As I opened my eyes again, I heard one of my ESL kids whisper to another, Teacher Annie pray too.

As it turns out, everything is noticed.

Something in the Water.

The other week in church I was sitting with the dorm kids and everyone went up for childrens story. Except a few, including Joshua, one of my third graders.

Me: Joshua, why don't you go for children's story?

Joshua: [Turns to look at me with this incredulous look on his face, hits his chest with his fist, and says defiantly] I am a MAN.

The other night we were all in the apartment,

Phil: I am a MAN!

Me: You seem to say that a lot.

Phil: Because you people always seem to forget!!!

This Cambodia thing seems to be making men of all of us.

Tranquil as a forest
But on fire within
Once you find your center
you are sure to win
You're a spineless, pale
pathetic lot
And you haven't got a clue
Somehow I'll make a man
out of you.

Moments.

I suppose every SM as the same thoughts-- How am I ever going to put this into words? How can I phrase this so people back home can understand?

There is so much, and some of it is very little. And the only way to really know is to experience.

Today I was exhausted. The exhausted I usually feel on Friday. It is only Tuesday. Not good. During 5th period I had pretty much lost the will to live and was just sitting at my desk letting my kids do the Bible assignment from the period before and when they finished I gave them a crossword.

Noreak was sick and was asleep on his desk. Which was a refreshing change from the usual loud distracting behavior we usually are privileged to receive.

Vatanak and Lily, my Korean, were arguing about crayons in English. Lily: What is wrong with you?! Vatanak: Me?! They don't need to be in a line!!

Rotana who wanted to take the crossword to do at home was across the room, every few minutes, chaaaaaaaaaaa. Chaaa-AAAAAAA.

Lingphy was coloring and singing: This is my giiirlfriend that you boooyfriend one another. [to the tune of This is my commandment]

Boreach was laying on the floor humming the song Lingphy was singing.

Joshua was turned around sitting on his desk which I had pulled to the front of the room after he was doing too much talking. And he was yelling at no one in particular- You want to fight me?! I speak English! Why you speak Khmer to me?!

Joshua! Come sit next to me!

Lingphy! Stop singing or come sit back here.

They both come sit next to me and start singing together.

Well this solved nothing. I might as well sing along.

As class came to an end, they all asked me-

Joshua: Teacher, where you go for no school?

Vietnam.

Joshua: When?

Tomorrow.

Lingphy: Who will go to the library with me tomorrow?

I will. We're leaving after school.

Rotana: Who will I learn with on Tuesday?

We'll be back in time.

My kids: Sighs of relief.

This might make friends back home smile, or maybe fast forward to more exciting parts. But it fills me with joy and makes me laugh out loud.

These people, this life. I am blessed.

While I can't sum up my life, I can live, experience, and grow. And maybe in the end I'll have some some good stories about God's leading.

I seem to keep waiting for the struggle. Aren't SMs supposed to struggle? Shouldn't I want, need and miss so much more?

I feel a little guilty with the amount of happiness I was alloted this year.

So I won't waste an ounce.

I won't have this forever. This year is passing all too quickly.

So it's time to LIVE.

FIRE.

I'm learning to be thankful for little things in Cambodia. Today I was thankful for fire.

Yesterday we ran out of gas in the apartment.

That means no cooking.

Which translates into yogurt and toast.

Breakfast, no big deal.

At school I forgot to go tell Augusta. I was too busy giving spelling tests and making children run for talking during their spelling tests.

And then during fourth period we usually watch Veggie Tales. But today I said no, because they were loud and disrespectful today. My children were maaaaaaaad. Which was a whole new crisis.

I need to work on keeping a straight face when discipling. I need to channel my inner Karsten Cook.

I got home after school, starved, with twenty minutes before I had to be out the door again.

I was quickly going to make something, but alas, we have no gas.

Crisis!

Ok, ok. Why do we have nothing we can eat cold?! Fine, yogurt and oatmeal squares. No problem. I'll tell Augusta on the way out.

I discovered soon after that Augusta was in staff meeting at school and I wouldn't be able to tell her until after I got home again.

Oh no. It's going to be Sabbath soon, which means we're going to not have a stove until Monday.

Crisis!

Once I got home again, I called Fay, who walked over to Augusta's house, who called the guy, who brought the gas.

I was surprised when someone knocked on door with a tank over his shoulder. It's not too late!

He hooked it up, and knocked on the door again and said, finish!

I said, THANK YOU. Acoon shuhran!!!

I turned on the stove and there was a FIRE!!!!!!!

And for a moment, I felt a little like Tom Hanks in Cast Away when he first makes a fire.

AHAHAAAAHAHAA! FIRE! I. HAVE. MADE. FIRE. Or, I called Fay, who told Augusta, who called a guy, who brought a tank and plugged it in. But, regardless, I TURNED THE STOVE ON and there was FIRE.

So today I am thankful for fire.

What are you thankful for?

Shoe-less and Satisfied.

In Cambodia, taking off your shoes is a sign of respect.

Every Sabbath there are piles of shoes outside of that sanctuary, because that is how you show respect.

During parent teach conferences, most parents took their shoes off before entering classrooms as a sign of respect to the teachers.

Whenever you enter a home, you take your shoes off, without question.

At school, in the office, you take off your shoes.

The same is true in other Asian countries too, I think. In Thailand we went to an old palace, and we had to take our shoes off first. I made a comment about how lucky the tour guides were to have a job where they didn't ever wear shoes. One of the other SMs looked at me and said, don't you also have a job like that?

This is true.

I don't wear shoes. Really ever. I put them on long enough in the morning to get to school. And then for the rest of the day, expect for the bathroom or crossing to the other building, I am barefoot.

At first my kids questioned, Teacher, where are your shoes?

But now it's more of a, Teacher, why do you have shoes on?

There is something completely wonderful about not wearing shoes. There is a freeing feeling in it. Maybe I'm the only one that thinks so, but thats fine.

Sabbath is my favorite day for a large number of reasons, but one being, shoes.

I live about the church, so I leave the house and go down without putting shoes on, join the mass of people barefoot in the sanctuary. If I can make it through an entire Sabbath without putting shoes on, it's been a good day.

And Shona's comment a few weeks back made me laugh, I walked into vespers, shoe-less and she said, you're just loving this Cambodian thing aren't you?

Maybe this is how I embrace the culture, or maybe it's my own version of crazy.

Whatever it is, I am satisfied.

An Ode to Grade Three.

I teach twenty-five students, from grade two through grade 8, five periods a day, each day. All of my kids bring something wonderful to the table. Sure they cheat and they don't do their homework and they don't know how to raise their hands or stay in their seat, but we're working on it. One of the grade seven boys, Noreak, he is one of the worst, cheating and not trying and ah! But then he smiles this wide goofy smile at me and I love him all over again.

But we're not here to talk about grade seven. I would like to take a moment to talk about my favorite group, because lets be serious, every teacher has favorites, grade three.

The only way I could accurately convey how much I love these people would be through large gestures and interpretative dance. But I'll do what I can.

This is them. In all my grades there is fights, spats, arguments. Except in grade three. In grade three there is helping, and smiling, and completeness.

Rotana is the only girl of the five. She is also the smartest one of the bunch. Sometimes when we're working on something and the boys are just being so silly she'll look at me and we'll roll our eyes and laugh. She can write in cursive better than I can.

Even though she is the only girl, she is in charge of the boys. She takes care of them a little.

When I tell her she is beautiful she has this smile that just lights up my life.

She wants to be a doctor. She will be a doctor.

Pannha. He is the quietest one of the group. And often it takes him an extra minute to understand. He doesn't speak up about it, he doesn't want to disturb, so I've learned to ask him specifically after every starts working.

He hands me food randomly throughout the day. His dad is a pretty important government official, always looking so serious. He intimidates me a little. From what I know Pannha had a rough time of it in government school, making friends and understanding lessons. But at the end of the day when Pannha says, goodbye, Teacher! See you tomorrow! I catch his father smiling at me. I agree, sir. I'm glad you're son is happy here too.

Boreach. Oh my goodness. This kid just kills me. When I give him instructions, he makes jerky movements like someone is shooting him. I laugh.

He is the smallest of all grade three, but he stands up for himself and does what he wants!

When the light bulb goes off for him and he understands something, he holds his pencil out in front of him, wags his eyebrows up and down and says, oooh, I knooow.

He NEVER remembers to write his name. When I give a test, or a quiz or a paper, I remind everyone, write your name. Boreach! Write your name!! Ooooh, I knooow!

Sopheak. He is the most adorable. He forgot to wear his uniform to school once.

He has this laugh that consumes his whole body. He always remembers jokes and reminds me. "Monkey go to bathroom!"

He is very clumsy, the walkway was slippery one day and I looked out the door just in time to see Sopheak slide past the door on his back screaming. I've never laughed so hard. He reminds me sometimes. Cha, remember how I slide? Bahaha. Yes.

He and Boreach are best friends. They stick together and laugh at each others jokes the way only best friends can.

His parents aren't in the picture too much. He and his sister, who is also in my class, live with an uncle. He is so wonderful and full of life. At the end of every day he hugs me and says in Khmer, goodbye, teacher, thank you, see you tomorrow!

And last, Joshua. I could talk for hours about him. He is the love of my life, the light in the darkness. We bonded early on and when I found out he was a dorm student I thanked God for loving me so much.

Joshua is the loudest of the group, and he is the oldest. If he continues in school he will be 23 when he graduates high school.

Now, Joshua is often just terrible. He doesn't stay in his seat or want to do his work and he always wants to talk. I get so mad, but then he smiles and says something charming and I'm sucked right back in.

He waits for me at lunch and we walk together. And everyday after school he comes to my classroom to talk to me. He has a brother who is also in my class and Joshua takes care of him.

Joshua started out with the lowest amount of English out of grade three and now he is almost the best. The other day he came and told Olga and I a story and we were astounded! It wasn't the story, it was that the story was in ENGLISH with only a few pauses. OH MY GOODNESS! It was the most exciting moment of the week!

Today we had a rough 5th period and I was frustrated when it was finished. When teachers meeting finished after school around 4:30 all the dorm kids were playing outside. I went down to my classroom to work and moments later Joshua showed up. We were talking and he asked me, do you miss home? I said, sometimes. Why? He replied, Because I miss home.

It's impossible not to love him.

During the last finals week the schedule worked out that I got to spend an entire period with just grade three. They did my seventh period routine with me. Office, they took turns pushing buttons on the copy machine, and we all laughed at things Joshua said. Then we went to the library and read books. It was a magical hour and now they ask me everyday, Cha! Can we go to office and library today with you?!

I so wish.

These kids have taught me, in the cheesiest way possible, that love knows no obstacle. The language barrier in my classroom is a never ending source of frustration. But I somehow manage to love these people more than I thought possible.

Don't get me wrong, it's not all moments of joy. I struggle to get them to sit still, and do their homework, and stop cheating, and don't write in pen, and no you may not go to the bathroom, and learning. Are we learning anything?! Are we making ANY progress?!?!

But I was blessed enough to be given a group of people who make struggle and long days seem worth it. Who make giving up seem so ridiculous. A group of people that make me want to try. A group of people that make me dread going home in six months.

These are my people. My children. All 25 of them. I'm invested, I'm in love.

The only way I know how to express the love I feel for this group is to put my arms in the air, to twirl, to bow, to sway, to praise.

"I will dance, I will sing, to be mad for my King.

NOTHING, Lord, is hindering the passion in my soul"

The First Ten.

Let me just say, I think my ideal job would involve me just loving children. And the year is coming pretty darn close.

Every day, around 3pm, I am reminded why I love my life.

The bell to end 6th period rings at 2pm. I have usually spent the last hour sitting at my desk grading, or talking on Skype to the remnants of the west coast as they sign off for bed.
Not going to lie, today I spent it just staring out the window. Which is an improvment from last week when I took a nap on the floor.
Anyway, I usually receive a few grade three visitors who today came in to tell me, Teacher Sopeap make us run!! Why? We are noisy! I laughed out loud.
I walk with them down to the office and standing talking to them and others who come running over until the bell rings are they run back to class.

Walking into the office I kick off my shoes and praise God for air conditioning. Making copies takes so long. Oh my goodness. When that is finished I head to my favorite 7th period place, the library.

Entering the second and last air conditioned place on campus I am greeted by Fay with a, I was wondering where you were! or Yay! She's here! -- I always take grading and good intentions with me, but usually end up talking with Fay the whole time or doing some leisure time reading.

At 3pm the bells let us know it's time for go home. [Haha. I love my ESL kids.] I say goodbye to Fay and make my favorite walk of the day. The dorm kids are heading to the dorm to drop their stuff off and change clothes and the path between the two buildings are full of kids I love. Most say hello, Cha! Many ask a question or shout something at me as I pass, and a few stop me with a hug or some sort of action. Today Henry sat on my foot holding onto my leg shouting, I am the kingdom! while I tried to walk.

Instead of taking the stairs right there I walk the cement down to the far stairs passing all the grade school classrooms. There is always some sort of grade two ambush, little girls screaming and running at me. It's good.

I say hello to parents I recognize and they smile. Students say Cha, where you go? I poke my head in grade three and Sen Sopheak always yells something at me that I don't understand. He gives a thumbs up and I wave.

Quickly I run upstairs and grab 1000 riel [25 cents] from my desk and walk back down. More students, more hugs, more questions. I exit the gate and cross the street. Rooty. Made by one of the sellers with a cart that he drives around. It's like a crepe with an egg and sweet cream inside of it. Sounds gross. Looks gross. Tastes so so good. Cambodia may not have crepe guy, but we have rooty.

Crossing back into school I pause to say something to my favorite guard. Today I thanked him for standing at the open gate. He laughed.

I climb the stairs back to my classroom knowing that soon Joshua will appear to tell me things in broken English and make me laugh.

It may not be much, but those first ten minutes after school are good. So good. No matter how hard the day has been, those minutes remind me to laugh, to love, to be really alive. And it reminds me just how happy I am here.

And oh boy, am I happy.