Nothing makes me want to vomit like standing in front of a classroom.
I can’t decide whether to burst into tears or run screaming for the door, so instead I stand there frozen, my heart beating a billion miles an hour and my stomach churning.
I am going to have a stroke. People will read about it in the papers and shake their heads and say, “That Jenifer Jones was such a sweet girl, if only they hadn’t made her teach so much.” It will be a very sad story.
It’s our first day of teaching at an international elementary school. One by one the principle shows my teammates to their classrooms. One by one the wooden doors close behind them, until it is just me left. Alone, except for the principle, who honestly looks more frazzled and nervous than I am. This poor woman has been out of the US for less time than I have been. I stop and tell her that she is doing a great job. My team keeps telling me that, and hopefully one day it will stick. So maybe it will work with this woman too.
I’m teaching health and character education to third graders, and songs and science to pre-schoolers. After I sing my song, I don’t know what else to teach them, so the teacher comes back up to the front and resumes Khmer lesson time. The 20-some kids squirm and wiggle on the mat, and a constant flow of them get up to use the bathroom or get themselves a snack. I want to say something, but the other helper teacher isn’t saying anything so I figure this must be normal.
Whoever decided that pre-schoolers should wear dresses as school uniforms obviously know nothing about this age group.
In today’s science lesson we learn shapes, specifically triangle, square, circle, and rectangle. I can’t draw a decent circle to save my life today, so every time I point to it and ask what it is, the kids shout out “oval!” After explaining what I assume to be a sufficient amount, the kids head to the tables to do a worksheet.
I’m in charge of table one. The kids are supposed to put a mark next to the correct picture. Each box has two shapes: a circle and something else. Number one is square, so they are supposed to find the square and mark it. The kids keep marking the circle. I keep telling them they are wrong. Until I figure out that the circles aren’t supposed to be a part of the shape exercise, the kids are supposed to put their marks there. There goes my “teacher of the year” award.
Not all of the kids have workbooks today, so the classroom has descended into utter chaos. The no-workbook kids are having a party on the mat. One of the kids is literally rolling around on the floor. Eventually most of table one decides to abandon the worksheet in favor of joining the mat party.
Class ends, but I spend the next thirty minutes babysitting until all the parents arrive to pick up their kids.
I walk to the principal’s office. She asks me how class was. I don’t feel like lying to her today, so I simply shrug, do my nervous laugh, and explain that I am not exactly a teacher. She looks at me, rather helplessly, and says, “Me neither!” That makes me feel better. At least I’m not the only one who has no idea what they are doing.
Later, after lunch, one of the Cambodian girls who is working and staying at YWAM with us stops me and asks me if I am sick. I tell her no, because I’m not exactly sure how to explain what is wrong with me. But she keeps pressing. “Really? Because you look tired. I saw your face earlier, and you looked sick.” She imitates how I look.
I decide to explain to her that I am homesick, and also that teaching is difficult for me, and that makes me tired. She says she gets homesick too, because she’s part of a program that keeps her away from home also. She tells me that she spent the morning helping the sewing class here at YWAM. She explains that it is very hard for her, and she doesn’t want to do it. “My team says, go, go, and I just say noooo!” She says. We have a good laugh, because that’s the way I feel about teaching. So we are the same.
One of the notes in my study Bible says that God calls us to commitment, not comfort. True story. Because I’m never comfortable up there in front of the classroom. It’s a good exercise in relying on His strength rather than mine. It’s a good exercise in doing something that brings Him glory rather than me. It’s a good exercise in saying, “Yes Lord, Your way is better than mine.” So it’s good. It’s good.
But I still want to vomit.
