All ________ People Look Alike (choose a color)

I forgot to mention the best part of a story from a few weeks ago...

The Sunday I was showing T and T pictures of my family - when I got to the picture of my parents - Thanh literally gasped.

"They look just like Katherine's parents!" Then she ran over to Thuy to show her.

"Just like Katherine's!" Thanh repeated to her as she showed her The Replicas.

This statement was seconded by Thuy. "Exactly!"

Both T and T now have my family memorized; good thing Katherine's parents don't return until after my parents are gone... how would they tell them apart?

It's Not Even Thanksgiving!

Have any of you muttered the words "It's not even Thanksgiving!" yet- disgusted over the shameless grasp of Christmas consumerism that seizes our society at the earliest possible moment? We have to say these words every year, right?

Yeah, I've said them already, too. This morning, I see a man walking through our old-world market selling Christmas wrapping paper.

"It's not even Thanksgiving yet!" is my automatic American thought-response. Then I remember where I am: the seller is in bare feet and tattered clothing; he's not exploiting anything, he's just trying to feed himself.

I get back to the castle to report this to K and she says, "I know! Did you see the Dancing Santa at T and T's stand yesterday?"

No, I didn't. And I didn't see it this morning, either. So I run back to the stand to get a picture and only Thanh is there - no Thuy nor Santa.

"Where is your Santa?" I ask.

She doesn't understand.

"You know, Santa Claus? Ho ho ho?"

Completely blank.

"Merry Christmas?" I do a little dance to show her I am speaking of the doll.

"Oh! The Christmas Man?"

"Yes!"

She hops off of the table and disappears inside to retrieve him.

"He will bring us good business and welcome customers!" she tells me, producing the doll. She turns him on and he begins his little dance. Seems that Santa - to her -is more like one of their Business Buddhas, meant to bring luck and money to their year. I don't have the heart to tell her that what Dancing Santa actually inspires in people is a desire to grab an axe and chop him up into little tiny pieces.

"Where did you get him?"

"Monkey Boy (our nickname for her nephew)," she says. And then, "What you call him?"

"Santa Claus."

Angie, Mom, Dad...I think I know what you need to bring: your Christmas movies. "The Grinch," "Rudolf," "Santa Claus is Coming to Town." We need to educate these girls ~

Speaking of my family, I have everyone's itinerary hanging on my wall: calendars, plane ticket confirmations...and a list of everything I want them to eat. I am beginning to enter my Food Panic Mode. The voices in my head often fight over food priorities when it comes to what I want other people to experience, and I don't really like this personality trait I have.

I'm sure, though, that the clam woman around the corner from the castle is a top priority. These two plates of clams are so delicious - one plate is long-necked clams and morning glory stir fried in tamarind sauce and topped with peanuts, and the other plate is clams steamed with lemon grass and beer.

Both plates come to $1.80. Yep, top of the list~

p.s. I thought it was pretty cool that the first Vietnamese member of Congress, Anh Cao, was also the only Republican representative to vote in favor of the health care bill. He was born in Vietnam and "fled with two siblings after the fall of Saigon in 1975 to live with an uncle in Indiana," according to the New York Times.

Salsa and a Flat Tire

When I got up early this morning to buy 15 tomatoes, five onions and a few peppers at the market, dice them up and put them into a huge container and balance it on my motorbike for the ride to school, how could I have had any idea that these tomatoes, onions and peppers and I would spend an hour and a half sitting against a wall by the side of the road on one of the hottest mornings in Saigon so far this fall?

I’ll begin the story of my morning's saga by explaining about the vegetables:

At most international schools, teachers are required to run some kind of after-school club. Last year I helped with Drama Club, and this year I am in charge of Cross-Cultural Club. We – fifteen of us – decided to focus on a certain country for three or four weeks; our goal is to learn about food, music, art, holidays, etc. Our first country of focus has been Mexico (I influenced this a bit). We got a late start on clubs this year, so our first meeting was just a few weeks ago. We learned about Day of the Dead (Nov. 1 and Nov. 2, the days the dead come back to visit) and did a skeleton art project; skeletons were supposed to be doing something the kids love to do – the whole “death as a part of life” idea. That's why mine is eating two tacos:


The kids were really excited to make quesadillas and fresh salsa today, so that’s why I had everything chopped up and ready to be mixed, cilantro’d, limed and salted by them. I was very excited for this, because I love giving cooking demonstrations. I really wanted one of those adjustable mirrors that the real cooks use, but had to settle for a plain old table. I had set it all up and talked to the sweet cooks in the lunchroom, asking for permission and for the location of pans, cutting boards, etc.

So I was on the road this morning, all loaded up, when I felt my tire go flat. No surprise... flat tires are rather common in this City of Motorbikes. But, for some reason, I panicked, and I forgot about all of the tire fixers at most every corner. I thought that, just maybe, I could make it to work and then deal with it.

But then I felt the tube blow out, too, and I was forced to the side of the road. I got a hold of a friend who reminded me about the tire fixers on every corner. I saw a guard sitting inside the pumping station where I had stopped and pantomimed my dilemma. He gestured over just around the wall, and, sure enough, there was a tire – fixer stand. The tire fixer, though, was nowhere in sight. The guard walked over to the cart and lifted the tarp covering it. A man emerged - from what I'm guessing was a twenty- year-long deep sleep.

Not a Sleeping Beauty sleep, though - he looked at me and smiled with his three remaining teeth and seemed happy to go right to work on my bike. “Great,” I thought, “Better than Jiffy Lube! I will be out of here in no time!”

I notified the school at eight that I was late, but it wasn’t a big deal because I have first period prep. So I leaned against the wall to wait. When the guard brought me a plastic chair, I felt comfortable enough to pull out my book and read, sweat already pouring off of me.

After fifteen minutes, I looked up; my tire fixer was crossing the busy street. I looked over at the guard and he informed me that he needed to buy a part. Fine. I went back to my book. Tire Fixer came back and worked some more. I continued reading. And sweating.

After fifteen more minutes, I looked over to the station; he was crossing the street again! The guard looked at me and made the Vietnamese negative hand gesture, indicating, “This guy isn’t really so good.”

I was beginning to wonder when he had last fixed a tire. 1982? He didn't have any parts.

After another twenty minutes went by I looked up and my heart literally stopped: my bike was gone, and so was the guy. I looked desperately over at the guard. “Have I given my bike to a con-man?” was the look I gave him- because motorbike theft is rampant here.

But the kind guard assured me it was OK, that he just had to take the bike somewhere. Again, I got the "he is a crazy tire fixer with no parts" hand gesture. OK. I waited ten more minutes, and during that ten minutes I called my principal again and told him the latest. He didn’t like the sound of my bike “going away” and told me he was going to send someone who spoke Vietnamese over to help. This entire process should have taken about fifteen minutes.

But fifteen more minutes went by before my bike returned. Tire Fixer was rolling it right by me, dressed in his greased – covered grey jumpsuit. Taking a closer look, I could see his hands; I couldn't tell where the fingers ended and the fingernails began – they were completely black.

He took it back to his station and continued working on it. Meanwhile, enter a passing crazy woman who was obsessed with my collection of tomatoes, onions and peppers. She took them out of my bag and spoke to me in non-stop Vietnamese, like I understood her (just like Nam's family). Finally, I took my bag from her and walked away and pretended to receive a phone call. What a hot, strange morning this was.

Finally, Tire Fixer rolled the bike over and told me it was fixed and quoted me the price I was expecting: about four dollars for a new tube and 90 minutes of "labor" - or "part-finding." I waited for Nate to get there and we learned that my tire fixer didn’t have any air, either. He had no parts nor air. So he had to wheel my bike to a place that had it – a place that, I am thinking, was just a block or so away. That place most likely had parts and tools, too, and a tire fixer that had been awake for at least some portion of the last decade to fix tires.

He sure was smiley, though.

Anyway, my salsa ingredients and I finally made it to school by the end of second period - my hair ruined for the day from sweat.

The after-school quesadilla making was a success - despite the stress that the vegetables had to endure. The kids loved the quesadillas and wanted to go home and make them for their families. My favorite part: the kitchen staff was so curious to watch us mix the salsa, fry the tortillas and fill them with shredded cheese (you don’t see cheese much here) and were so gracious to assist in any way they could, so I topped three quesadilla triangles with salsa and took them to the kitchen. The cooks were shy at first, but then one took a piece and said, “Thank you, Teacher!” The others followed, and their eyes lit up at their first taste of salsa.

Every once in while, you get that feeling that you’ve just done something very good. When those eyes lit up at tasting salsa, I definitely had that feeling.

And giving that tire fixer a job- The Most Unprepared Tire Fixer in Saigon. That made me feel really good, too.

Classroom Management

Last year, one of Katherine's first graders, Giami, came in to teach her one Vietnamese word per day. It was nice. She was cute. Giami would teach the word, then leave.

Words like "mother," "father" and "teacher."

This year Katherine has a teaching partner, Ron, who shares her office. Giami still comes in at lunch to teach the one word per day, but Katherine says that as a teacher weighing the heavy load of TWO students, she is beginning to really take things seriously. She has come up with systems - like her tally system: she will say a word like "dog" and they must repeat "dog" correctly ten times before she will pass them on that word.

She has implemented techniques to handle inattention, too. Whenever they get distracted by anything, such as students or phone calls, she uses her Hang Man Strategy: when they misbehave, a limb goes up on their respective nooses (they each have their own).

Lately, she has become quite weary over her teaching load, saying things like, "I'm having a bad day," and "You're not listening," and "I'm gonna quit."

Katherine thinks that this weariness has forced her into using more "Non-Western Teaching Techniques." The other day, after a lunchtime filled with other-student distractions, Ron and Katherine looked up to see the following messages on the board: (the first one says " You are better than Ms. Katherine - just a little bit!)

Mungo, I couldn't help but think of how fast you would have been hung in Mr. Smith's class. That strategy would have saved you from having to do those fake book reports, right?

Seems that Giami, as a seven-year-old teacher with experience, will be able to weigh the pros and cons of positive vs. negative reinforcement a lot sooner than most of us~

Sunday Night Spring Rolls

Here are the beautiful shrimp in their cooked (boiled) form, and below is Thuy ready to eat a head. She ends up eating every one of the heads and does not pressure me at all. She doesn't even eat any bodies, she is just so happy with the heads.

Aren't the legs of the Daddy Shrimp great?

We roll these guys up into fresh spring rolls tonight - along with rice noodles, lettuce/basil, star fruit, crispy onions and my favorite fish paste mixture with lime, chili, sugar, pineapple and water. Pictured below is a pre-rolled spring roll.

Because my family will be here in about five weeks, tonight I give T and T pictures of everyone so that they can learn names. Thanh practices during Thuy's dinner preparation...she calls my brother-in-law Lewis "Lewey" and notes the similarity between "Brian" and "Brain." What a strange name, so close to "Brain." (She's memorizing you, too, Brian and Kristi, just in case you come...). She likes it that Megan's name is so close to mine ("Maggie").

Dinner is, of course, so tasty again that I ask them if they will move in and cook for my family in December. "You can sleep in the balcony room and make us breakfast, lunch and dinner," I tell them.

Without hesitation, Thuy replies, "One hundred dollars a day."

I'm afraid that they are finally understanding what they are worth~

Successful Losers

My homeroom did not win the Halloween contest this year. All that really matters, though, is that the rubber snake they rigged above the door did in fact drop onto the judges' heads when they entered.

For the rest of the period, I heard, "Did you see that? That was so funny!"

Definition of "success."

Like I said, that's all that matters. I am able to put my ego aside, I think. (Brian, I am working on making the black streamers that say "losers!" now.)

The class that won - which includes many members of my great 6C class from last year (remember Alex and the "I hear that people from Seattle..." entries?)- created a "Horror Hospital." They all wore white coats and had bloody babies being operated on one table and Lucky being operated on at another (with a knife). It was pretty cool.

And another cool thing is that I bought this blonde wig at the Ben Thanh Market and I love it; I am going to buy two more before leaving Saigon (the women running the stand really liked the dark brown bob, but when I told them it was for Halloween, they insisted on this one). It cost $12, and my black leather cowboy hat cost $3. (I was much happier about it than the picture suggests.)

The kids thought it was fantastic. They kept asking me if it was my real hair and I wasn't quite sure how to answer them. They are so...funny.

On to another topic, aren't these the most beautiful shrimp you have ever seen? Thuy and Thanh are coming over to cook these guys tonight, and Thuy has informed me that I must eat their heads. I told her I didn't think I could eat their heads and she just laughed a laugh that said, "You are going to eat their heads."

I have not really enjoyed my day since that laugh. I will let you know how the shrimp head eating goes.

Thriller Reputation at Stake

All homeroom classes are supposed to decorate classrooms for Halloween tomorrow. I'm really dreading it. For weeks now, last year's members of 6E -of the epic Thriller Dance Halloween win- have been seeking me out to ask, "Ms. Marjorie, you're not going to teach this year's class the Thriller Dance, are you?"

Of course, I get very serious and answer them, "The Thriller Dance was OURS. I will not share it with ANYONE!"

Usually I get a response like "Yeah! It's OURS! Thank you Ms. Marjorie. You're so cool!" (here's the story:

http://marjiebowker.blogspot.com/2008_10_01_archive.html)

Well, my homeroom this year has only seven students - six girls and one boy. They heard that my sixth grade class won last year so they are putting pressure on me; they have high expectations that the sixth graders can pull it off again for another shocking win.

I've given it my best shot, but for one week, all they want to talk about is what they can rig up above the door entry to fall on the judges when they enter the room. Homeroom conversations have gone something like this:

Me: OK, listen up everyone. The thing that impressed the judges last year was that we had something different than everyone else. What can we do that is different?

Nhung: We should put something up above the door so that when the judges open it, something falls on their heads!

Whole class: Yeah!

Me: Well, OK, we can do that, but that is just one thing. I was thinking that we could read the Halloween stories that we are writing out loud; that would be really cool and different.

Jessica: Maybe we could put a bunch of fake spiders in a box and that could drop on the judges' heads!

Whole class: Yeah!

Me: OK, well, I guess that would be good. But I was thinking that to set the mood for the stories, we could find a Halloween track of scary noises to add a spooky background.

Maria: Or we could put a bunch of black streamers in with the fake spiders and all of that could fall on the judges' heads when they come in!

Whole class: Yeah!

Me: That would be funny. And we can dress up to read our stories and have special lighting on us so that the room looks really creepy. We could cover the windows with black material and put white blinking lights behind the material.

Truong: Maybe we could put red paint above the door, so when the judges open it, blood will fall on them!

Whole class: Yeah! That is so cool!

Me: Well, I'm not sure about the red paint, but...

You get the picture.
I'm just not convinced that I will be able to uphold my reputation this year.