The best laid plans of mice and men…

I spent all that time on Saturday and Sunday creating my first lesson plan with all its graphics and worksheets, only to have to redo much of it tonight after today’s talk with my mentor. That sucks because I had hoped to have tonight to prepare Wednesday’s lesson. This means that instead of being a day ahead on every lesson, I am now down to having only the night before to get everything created and executed for the following day. I’ve already used up my buffer day. Grrr.

One of these days, when and if I’m ever a real teacher, I am going to do as I see the other real teachers doing and grab a lot of stuff already prepared out of books. But for the practicum, we aren’t really supposed to cut corners like that. We are supposed to create our own materials. This is one time when I wish I could lock my inner perfectionist in the closet and get on with things. SIGH.

Well, the good news is that I am done with tomorrow’s prep, though it took me from 3:30 till now, and can go to sleep at a reasonable hour. Tomorrow night I probably won’t be able to say the same. But hey, it’s only one week of my life and one of the five days is already behind me.

=============

This morning something so bizarre happened, I can’t even put it into words.

I had hoped to be showered so very early that I could be in and out of the kitchen for my oatmeal before host mom even arrived on the scene. I failed by ten minutes, though, and paid for it dearly.  I don’t want to say right now what the exchange was exactly, but I can tell you that it left me feeling violated. It also caused me to boot up my laptop a) to check Snopes.com to see if this person was just spreading a grotesque urban legend and b) to search for someone to whom I could vent and unload some of the toxic nastiness that had just been unloaded on me.  The first email in my inbox was from my mom, who is also one of my best friends. So she was the lucky recipient of my brief rant.

I might blog in detail about this exchange later, just to get advice from you on how I should have handled it. But tonight I must make this brief and get to sleep.

Blessedly, the second email was from my new friend and former classmate R, whose words you can see in the comments on my post Impermanence (Anicca).

Can you imagine how those words lifted me from the toxic cloud I had moments before been trying to claw my way out of? They did. They made me beam and remember who I am. To remember who I am was something I desperately needed at that moment.

Then I thought about what another friend wrote to me not too long ago:

I experience “light” when I am with you. It is a lightness of spirit and,
when you smile, a brilliance. It’s a most welcome thing, Grace.
Thank you for blessing the world, me, with your light.

Light or The Light is one of the central theme of Quakerism. Instead of saying, “I’ll pray for him,” many Friends would say, “I’ll hold him in the Light.” We are asked to see that of God in everyone. One of my favourite Quaker songs is this one.

I pulled myself together and stepped into the image my two friends had painted for me of myself.

As the subway train nears the end of my commute, it surfaces from underground for about a mile. As the train and I came up out of the dark, cool earth, a blinding sun–low over the horizon–assaulted my eyes like a million angels with blaring trumpets, refusing to be ignored. I let the rays bathe my face as the train carried me to my destination.

* = GiST 209

Persian Poems is now available from the App Store. This is a perfect app for all Persian-speaking literature lovers.

Persian Poems app is a complete collection of works of the greatest heroes of the Persian literature Ferdowsi, Hafez and Saadi. These great poets kept the Persian (Farsi) language alive and left us their wisdom and this app is homage to them.

Persian Poems lets you browse four complete poetry books, save favorites and even search through the collection.

The Persian poems app is completely in Persian, and was developed by talented Iranian developers Soroush, Sohrab and Ali. Keep an eye out for our other upcoming versions!

Papegøyen og kjøpmannen er en tradisjonell fortelling med opprinnelse i India for over 2000 år siden. Det er en fin, liten fortelling om frihet. Rumis gjenfortelling av historien har funnet veien inn mellom permer i Humle forlags første utgivelse. Boka er tenkt som en del av en serie, Det var en gang, som skal gi oss fortellinger fra hele verden. Bøkene er tospråklige. Papegøyen og kjøpmannen forteller historien både på norsk og på farsi.

Historien er fin, men jeg likte aller best illustrasjonene. De er utrolig nydelige. De er malt av en iransk kunstner, Ahmad Khalili, som behersker samme teknikk som de gamle tehusene i Iran ble dekorert med. Fargerike, litt naivistiske og melankolske malerier som løfter fortellingen fram. Bildet av boka her gir ikke boka rettferdighet, fordi innbinding og design er usedvanlig smukt, med gullskrift og farger som gjør en bokelsker mo i knærne. Du kan få en følelse av hva jeg mener ved å se her.

Boken er oversatt til norsk av Amir Mirzai og Kristin Groven Holmboe. Erling Kittelsen har gjendiktet tre av Rumis dikt til norsk.

Du kan få kjøpt den ved å sende en e-post til alba[at]albatrass.no eller ved å besøke Rumifestivalen førskommende helg. Både bok og festival anbefales varmt!

A while ago we posted that Persian Poems iPhone app was under development by Ali, Sohrab and Soroush. We are pleased to say that the app is all finished and submitted to the Apple App Store.

Persian Poems is completely in Persian (Farsi) covering some of the best loved Persian Poetry. Ferdowsi, Hafez and Saadi all covered. As a huge Persian literature fan I think this is a must have app…

emmm yes we do need to have an English version too. Well if the demand is there, we promise that we would do an English version too. So do let us know what you think.

So, I started taking Farsi classes two weeks ago. The idea itself sounds weird, as I would have chosen to take any other language before I took Farsi.

But since Spanish was out of the question, since  I was too late for registration , the boyfriend convinced me to take Farsi for “funzies” as he says.

The fact that it’s only 40$ per session (for two and half months) book and CD included did tempt me. But all that aside, the sociological experience itself was worth it.

I spent the  first day of class feeling sick. Knots in my stomach, like it was the first day in school. I was dragged to class by the boyfriend, and the awkward silence that befell the Iranian center was deafening when I walked in. Everyone turned out, looked at me (all wet and an utter mess) and then ignored my presence just as quickly. 

Perhaps I need to explain more. The Iranian councilship center, as they call it,  is mostly attended by conservative Shia. It is also a stone’s throw away from Dahiyeh, Hezbollah’s stronghold in Lebanon.  

Picture this: Men with beards, women in chadors or in veils. But I don’t want to give the wrong image of the people there. Human beings are multi-faceted — it’s only that I don’t have access to what they think and feel. I’m The Other. I am, along with another married woman, the only two non-veiled / non-chadored females on the premises.   Talk about feeling awkward.

I am probably the only Sunni woman there. Everyone, including my teacher, have felt compelled to ask me why I want to study  Farsi. What baffles me is why isn’t the same question asked to all the Shia men and women there? Does their sect vouch for them? Apparently, it’s enough for some reason.     

One of the girls — let’s call her F — that I have become “class friends” with, i.e. our interactions are limited to the 6 hours of class every week, confessed (with the naive look on her face) that she was convinced I had lost my way the first day of class. What was I doing there? Surely, I must have lost my way. Even as I sat in class waiting for the teacher to read out the names of the attendees, she felt she needed to tell me that I was lost, and to help me be on my way. That’s what a good Muslim would do!

Yesterday, my teacher (as I think) felt the need to stay with me in class, since he usually goes and prays with the rest of the class in the 5 minute break we have every session. Everyone had left to pray the Maghreb prayer, and I was alone in class.

He approached me, rather shyly, and asked me why I chose to major in Philosophy. (I had lied and said I’m still in college, as my current company employer is on the other side of the political spectrum if you know what I mean.)

Apparently, my teacher — the 30 something Iranian man — is finishing his philosophy PhD in USJ. He spent  the next 10 minutes talking to me about my options after graduation at the work force and if I wanted to continue my education in Iran. I felt bad about lying, and I wanted to shout and say I have my Masters! I’m not a 24-yr-old idiot who’s still in college!! But I appreciate his sentiment.

Also, almost everyone knows some Farsi. Although, I’ve never heard a Lebanese speak Farsi before. Some have lived in Iran or work with Iranians and have thus acquired the language.

The younger generation is more educated. However, some of the adult students haven’t even finished 8th or 9th grade. That to me is shocking. I hate to admit that I might have been a bit sheltered with my privileged life, but I couldn’t conceal my surprise. (The elite in me is stunned.)

In any case, two weeks into the course, everyone is a bit more relaxed. The familiar faces and the teacher’s mild humor seemed to do the trick. I have made friends with F, along with two other guys, a Christian Lebanese [who's a friend of a friend - What a small world] and a Sunni Egyptian-British, both whom I really like and would definitely have a drink with soon.   

Until then, I will need to go study my Farsi.

Khuda Hafez.

Klar viele kennen es unter dem Namen Lakritz. Aber schon dieser Blogeintrag zeigte, dass es damit nicht getan ist, da die schwarzsüße Köstlichkeit in verschiedenen Landschaften auch unterschiedliche Namen hat.

Das ist international natürlich nicht anders. Um nun aber auch außerhalb der deutschen Sprachraums in Sachen Lakritz nicht sprachlos zu sein hier der erste Teil einer Liste mit hilfreichen Worten für Lakritz, die es im Ausland leichter machen sollen Entzugserscheinungen vorzubeugen

Khalehgili is a live radio talk show
every Saturday, 12 to 2 pm Eastern Time
from WRLD cable radio in Fairfax, Virginia.

This week’s guest is Maryam Forouzmand

Listen to the November 7, 2009
Khaleh Gili:

http://www.garageband.com/mp3player?|pe1|WdjZPXLrvP2rYVS_Zm1mAA

=========================

Download the November 7, 2009 show (mp3 file):

I caught on about a week ago to the fact that our host had no Hallowe’en plans for the homestay. I ate my oatmeal and provided all the nods and uh huhs as she chattered on about going to visit her sister this weekend. She assured me it would be okay, as we could just turn out the lights and not answer the door if the bell rang.

I kept my feelings and thoughts about this to myself.  I keep a lot of thoughts and feelings to myself here because I know I am only here for four more weeks, and I know she can be a bit sensitive when any of us is less than perfectly pleased with how she runs the homestay. I also figured that if it was important to me to offer the students a Canadian holiday experience, then I could take care of the details.

Some nights I don’t see all of the students at supper. They have lives outside this house, late classes, library study sessions, and keep different hours. But I almost always see my buddy D, who never fails to pepper me with questions about English grammar and idioms. I asked him if he wanted to carve a jack-o-lantern, and he seemed quite keen to do so.

So yesterday I picked up a little pumpkin for under $2.  This morning our host saw our new breakfast table centrepiece and asked me if I knew where it had come from. I told her I’d bought it. She asked me if it was a cooking pumpkin. I said no, it was a carving pumpkin.  She started to fret: if we set out a jack-o-lantern, we might get trick-or-treaters. I told her that was okay, we would answer the door.

Tonight I told the three guys who were having dinner in the kitchen to knock on my door when they were ready to carve the pumpkin. D came to get me when they were ready.

We were the model of cooperation: we each sketched a face design and then we voted for the best face. J’s design won, so he drew it on the pumpkin with a pen before leaving for his Hallowe’en party.  D and G and I took turns carving, and D–who is obsessive–was more than willing to keep scraping the inside of the gourd with a spoon until it was clean all over and flat on the bottom.

All the time, D was interrupting our progress to take pictures to send back to his family in Korea.

I taught them the word “slimy,” which made them both rush over to their laptops to type, asking me how it is spelled. You can see why I want to work with ESL students for a living, can’t you?

As they were putting the finishing touches on the face, I scurried up and down the stairs of this big, old house searching for a votive candle and some matches. I found both.

D lit the candle and placed it inside, managing not to burn himself.

“Now what?” D asked.

“Now we see how it looks with the lights off,” I said.  Each of the boys reached for a light switch.

“Whoa, scary!” D exclaimed when he saw the glowing orange face. He started snapping pictures, showing us each one on his camera’s screen after he shot it. He promised to send me one, which I’ll post if he does.

After the pictures, we blew out the candle and put the jack-o-lantern on the porch for tomorrow. I warned the boys that we might not even get a single trick-or-treater tomorrow. “Parents might be worried about H1N1,…and in some neighbourhoods, kids just don’t go out. So I can’t promise you that we’ll see any costumed kids. But we’ll do what we can. At dusk, we’ll turn on the porch light and light the jack-o-lantern.  And hope!”

D thanked me about seven times for doing that with them.

===========

GiST 185

• Sitting with my Iranian friends at lunch to hear recited and learn to recite a stanza from a Sohrab Sepehri poem that R had written out for me the day before in Farsi script. “Zendegi khali neest…” God, what a beautiful language.
• Delicious white polenta that our homestay host made for me. She is a good cook.
• The free Metro newspaper with a daily sudoku puzzle. Today’s was not so easy; yay! AND I found a cryptic crossword in the Star. Double yay. I hope the teacher doesn’t see me doing these (I try to be discreet) and get her feelings hurt, but they do help me stay awake when she’s covering something I’ve already studied.
• Finding a wee fig on the tree out back just big enough and ripe enough to eat. Ok, I know…it’s nowhere near what Lynn gets in her California garden, but I can dream.
• The look on D’s face when we lit the candle, put the top back on the pumpkin and shut off all the lights. Priceless.

روسپی اورژانسِ میلِ جنسیست. این شغل باید رسمی شود و پایگاهِ اجتماعی پیدا کند. روسپیان باید آموزش ببینند. این حرفه نیاز به یک دگرگونی دارد.

پورنوگرافی یک هنرِ ارزشمند است که کم اهمیت جلوه داده شده است. این هنر نیاز به کمک دارد و باید در دانشگاه‌ها تدریس شود.



Khalehgili is a live radio talk show
every Saturday, 12 to 2 pm Eastern Time
from WRLD cable radio in Fairfax, Virginia.

October is cancer awareness month and domestic violence awareness month.
This week’s show discusses these topics and concludes with
Fereidon Farahandouz reciting Omar Khayam poetry.*

Listen to the October 24, 2009
Khaleh Gili:

Part 1:
http://www.garageband.com/mp3player?|pe1|WdjZPXLrvP2rYVS-YG9sAw

Part 2:
http://www.garageband.com/mp3player?|pe1|WdjZPXLrvP2rYVS-YG5lAA

=========================

Download the October 24, 2009 show (mp3 file):

* The Fereidon Farahandouz Khayam CD can be ordered at 1-818-988-4422

Photos – Iranian currency of rial

The name Iran means the Land of the Aryans (source: Wikipedia) and it is not a big surprise when we find common Hindi words in Farsi (or rather common Farsi words in Hindi).

There are couple of Hindi words that we use here quite often – dosth (friend), yek (one), panj (five) and chai (tea). So who ever can speak Urdu or Hindi, can learn Farsi quite fast. We, the non-speaking Hindi / Urdu Malaysians on the other hand are learning Farsi on rather slower pace – probably one word one day. Words like:-

Boro boro – go go (used by cab driver when wanted the car in front to speed up before the light turns red)

Tatil – holiday (our favourite word on Wednesdays – Thursdays and Fridays are off days here in Tehran)

Chetori – how are you? (for which the answer to this would be khubam or good even though one is not feeling well)

And of the favourite of my colleague here – dus say ta ram (I love you) and he is learning new ones too – panjshambe berim cinema (on Thursday, let’s go for cinema).

(To be continued)

• A decision by a loved one to take better care of himself.
• A tasty meal of stir-fried veggies, barley and brown rice that my homestay host made.
• Having fun in class exploring ideas and learning so much. Monday’s topic was language and gender.
• Spending part of the evening trying to decipher my classmate’s poem in Farsi.
• Weather so nice we can hang our laundry on the line this week.

This song is amazingly beautiful and calming.

I love the rubab (a traditional instrument used in afghan music), I love its rural touch. 

I was surprised to find out that the Zeb&Haniya project is Pakistani, but they are both ethnic Pashtuns and that might explain why some of their lyrics are in Pashtu and Farsi. I personally don’t know any other songs by the duo, but now that I have found more info on coke studio (puzzling name) and the artists, I should probably take a closer look. If this has stimulated your curiosity , then take a closer look at the below links.

http://www.cokestudio.com.pk/

http://www.zebandhaniya.com/

Morq…morq….

Morq means chicken in Farsi and one need to know this so that one doesn’t end up getting beef or mutton or unknown meat for food. Language is a big, big problem when it comes to ordering food here in Tehran.

The good thing however is that some of the newer ‘fast food’ restaurants near our place has menu in English (some with broken English but we can make out the menu items) and the young guy at the counter has some idea on what we wanted to order. The problem comes when asking what kind of meat used – even the local Iranians have problem letting us know what type of meat used in the food. Sometimes meat stands for beef or mutton or in usual case, a mixture of beef and mutton. We therefore take the safe side and just order chicken or salmon (pronounced as just fish here in Tehran). Soft drinks especially American brands (like Coke, Sprite, etc) are plentiful on all restaurants.

For lunch, we usually avoid fast food (pizza or fried chicken) and go for real Persian food – usually rice and kebab. Their rice itself is good enough to be eaten on its own. Lunch is usually accompanied by semi fried tomatoes (which we use the juices as gravy) and plain yoghurt. One thing about the yogurts here is that majority of it is of original plain taste (unlike in Malaysia where we can get the fruit flavoured versions). So it does take some ‘fear factor’ a like guts to finish a small bowl of plain yogurt. If one likes, one can also order a bowl of salad as side dish.

Breakfast is usually comes in form of a small cake or bread and tea or tetra-packed fruit juice. Tea is usually provided free-flow in the mornings and evenings. Very rarely we see people drinking coffee here. When we pass by bakery shop in the mornings, we usually see a long line of people waiting to buy their local bread known as balbari (huge thin bread with drips of sugar on it). To avoid the long queues in the morning, we usually buy our breads from the various sundry shops or bakery shops at night.

So if one compare to Malaysian food to Iranian food, it looks healthier although one cannot compare the taste between the 2. We for one missed spicy food, soup and heavy breakfast in form of nasi lemak or mee goreng. But since we usually walk 1 – 2 kilometres on almost daily basis to look for restaurants and sometimes find interesting places to dine in, we are in a way also exercising our appetites before we order our food. I guess it is a blessing in disguise.

Photos – Lunch with chicken gravy or coloured rice with lemon juice

(To be continued)

We have somewhere around… a gizillion expressions in persian that make little to no sense when translated to English. Most of them if not all of them sound hilarious when translated, so I thought I’d share the laughter! Here are a few I came up with so far. I’ll be adding onto it for sure though.

“Namak Nashnas”
Translation: You don’t recognize my salt.
Actual Meaning: You’re ungrateful.

“Zamin khordam o pedaram daroomad”
Translation: I ate the ground and my father came out.
Actual Meaning: I tripped and I got screwed.

”Royeh tokhmeh cheshmam mizaramet”
Translation: I put you in the seed of my eyes.
Actual Meaning: You’re very important to me.

”Khodet roh beh kocheh alichap nazan”
Translation: Don’t hit yourself into Ali’s left alley.
Actual Meaning: Don’t pretend you don’t know.

”Dozarim tazeh oftad”
Translation: My cent/penny just fell.
Actual Meaning: I just got it (understood it).

”Pedar-sookhteh!”
Translation: Daddy burned!
Actual Meaning: Something along the lines of… That no-gooder!!

”Moordeh Shooreto bebaran!”
Translation: Take away the person that washes your dead body!
Actual Meaning: Something along the lines of… god damn you!

”Gleemet ro as ab dar beear!”
Translation: Pull your rug out of the water.
Actual Meaning: Get yourself out of this mess.

”Kharesh as poel gozashteh!”
Translation: His/Her donkey passed over the bridge!
Actual Meaning: She got through it!

”Cheh khaaky bar saram bereezam?!”
Translation: What kind of dirt should I pour on my head?!
Actual Meaning: What the hell am I going to do?!

”Ey zahr-e-maar!”
Translation: Poison of snake!
Actual Meaning: Similar to, shut up!

”Khaak bar saret!”
Translation: Dirt on your head!
Actual Meaning: Damn you!

”Maraz!”
Translation: Disease!
Actual Meaning: Again… similar to, shut up!

”Poorou.”
Translation: Full face.
Actual Meaning: Self-absorbed.

How do I sum up my life over the past week so far? Well, to put it briefly, I’ve spent the past week a very busy man. Friday of last week (October 9^th, 2009) was spent gleaning apples at an apple orchard in Spartanburg County and picking up donations of water and a drink called Tummie Yummies (water that tastes like bubble gum) in Spartanburg.

This weekend was spent walking around beautiful and majestic downtown Greenville, taking in the aroma of a sweet southern town while walking around in beautiful weather.  I ran into this and thought to myself: how perceptive…and how very true.

On Monday, I got to meet U.S. Senator Lindsey Graham (R-South Carolina) at a Town Hall meeting at Furman University from the recommendation of my boss, Caroline Robertson. While the crowd was hostile to him, I felt that there were a lot of intelligent things that he said during the meeting and realized the vast differences between the politics of Minnesota and the politics of South Carolina (the man would have gotten a standing ovation for his views on alternative energy in Minnesota instead of being heckled by boos). Even though I maintain my political independence and try to strive for an overall non-partisan nature, I do understand the basic instinct to be partisan when it comes to politics. Nevertheless, it is something that I strive to avoid and pray about. I asked him what should be done about the human rights violations in Iran and he said that this was something that the United States and the international community needed to be more proactive about. I did manage to get a picture with him, and he was proud of the fact that I moved to South Carolina to serve as an AmeriCorps VISTA.

The rest of this week has been spent with an amazing amount of busywork. A lot of time has been spent reminiscing to episodes in my life: the college experience, high school, and my formative years in St. Paul and Cottage Grove, Minnesota. I’ve thought intently about who I was during those years as I look back on my life. Some memories will last forever: the memory of the fireplace at the house in Cottage Grove rip-roaring with a fire on a chilly autumn night sipping hot apple cider while watching the evening news with my dad or Little House on the Prairie with my mom, the smell of the winter pine trees coated with snow as I climbed them on a cold winter day for the best view of the neighborhood I lived in, the intense hues of orange and red from the leaves of the maple trees in my backyard during a brilliant Indian summer, and the fragrance of crabapples that filled the street with aromas letting everyone know that it was springtime again. I remember more about myself—an intelligent, but altogether naïve young man from suburbia who knew nothing of the ills and the suffering that billions of people from all across the world go through on a daily basis due to the poverty that exists. My fifteen year old self would have just said:  “that’s sad” and gone on to thinking about ‘bigger things,’ such as how the Green Bay Packers did during the Monday night game, or about the sick triple double performances that Kevin Garnett put up during his years with the Minnesota Timberwolves.

Eight years later, and hopefully with a more global perspective on things, I find myself freely admitting to the privilege (I would almost use the word ‘affluence’ in this regard) that I enjoyed as a junior youth. I remember enjoying my time with the Friends of Greenville County last night during prayers and talking to Aziz (a Wisconsin Badgers alum) about the Gophers vs. Badgers game a couple of weeks ago when the topic was shifted to the situation in Iran for Muslims, Christians, Jews, Zoroastrians, and Baha’is. I remember being fully engaged as a fellow friend from Iran spoke about the situation in Farsi. To realize the atrocious human rights violations that are going on there for everyone—especially Baha’is, and to hear it from the perspective of an Iranian, was something that struck a chord for me. I remember the friends taking their time, asking questions about the election, the 7 Baha’is in Iran awaiting trial, the 3 American college students who are being held by the government, and other various things. I asked her the question about hope in Iran and whether this situation would improve. To my amazement, she replied with optimism that “injustice never lasts. The truth of this Revelation will defeat the tyranny imposed by the misguided religious clerics who blaspheme the teachings of Muhammad (pbuh) someday.” At that moment, I wished I could have shared in her optimism. The only thing I found myself able to do was to remember the friends in Iran and the Iranian people in my prayers.

I meditated on the conversation and on my own past experiences as a junior youth in Islamic classes. The thought that I drifted off into sleep with, and the thought that I want to close this entry with is this: it is simply amazing to me how full circle the Message that all of the Manifestations of God have brought to the people of this Earth come together harmoniously. Truly, I am in awe of how wonderful it all is. I thank God everyday for blessing me in this life with enormous wealth and feel unworthy of the gift and honor that I have been given.

Isn’t that horizon incredible?

1. Wednesday night our teacher for the pronunciation module, whom I’ll call T., told us that he had passed the time on the subway en route to class by reading from a small paperback called Phonetics. He was refreshing his memory on the phonemes of English and the symbols used to represent them in the International Phonetic Alphabet. The woman sitting next to him was very excited to see the book and proceeded to ask him where he got it, explaining that she had been looking for just such a chart for a long time.  He told her he couldn’t remember where he’d picked up that copy. He then remembered that he had another copy in his book bag and gave it to her. He added that if any of us had been wanting to meet someone of the opposite sex, just read a phonetics book on the subway.

2. My classmate R., who is from Iran, asked me at lunch why I know so much about Farsi and Persian history and culture. I explained to her about being a Persophile. She is a beautiful young woman with pixie-cut black hair, a petite build and delicate facial features, including big brown eyes framed by those long, thick eyelashes Iranians are blessed with. She said that she has written a poem about Toronto in Farsi and wonders if I would be able to read it. She’s going to bring it with her to class tomorrow to show it to me.

3. The lovely young woman sitting to my left at our round table had a can of Egyptian Mint tea with spices sitting on the table. All day the smell of cardamom wafted up to my delighted nostrils. Ah!

4. The lovely young woman sitting to my left is also on a gluten-free regimen and SHARES her snacks with our table.

5. I share my dark chocolate with the class.

6. K at the next table shared her mother’s homemade zucchini bread with all of us.

7. Today’s discussion of the Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis and its detractors was animated and fun. We were told about the Piraha of Brazil, a tiny community of only a couple of hundred people who speak a language that has no living language relatives. You have to click the link and read about them to believe it. A language that can be hummed or whistled? No numbers? It was fascinating for me to listen while we batted around the hypotheses surrounding whether language determines how we are capable of conceptualizing versus how world view and/or culture shapes language. We heard about a fascinating study done with 5-month old babies suggesting babies do indeed have the capacity to think before they have language. And why am I including this in my list of Good News and small Graces? If you read the article, note the point re the failed attempt to teach the Piraha to read and count to ten. It was painstaking work for weeks and weeks. Finally one day a breakthrough! All of the students managed to read one word out loud in unison, which caused them to burst out laughing. The teacher asked why they had laughed. They explained (in their own language, as Piraha have remained unilingual for centuries in spite of a long-standing trading relationship with other peoples) that what they had just uttered sounded just like their word for “sky.”  Exactly! That had been the point of all the lessons! The Piraha then became agitated and wanted to discontinue the lessons. It seems they had been gathering with the teacher because they enjoyed the social contact and because he made popcorn.  You see, in the Piraha worldview or culture or way of being alive, you do not talk about anything that is not in the here and now.  There’s no value in that. You see where I’m going with this? And can you believe that SOME researchers suggest that the Piraha are simply too dumb to learn to read or count. Here is a people that is right out of Quinn’s novel Ishmael, only they are not extinct! Mind you, they are getting badly ripped off in every trade with outsiders since they cannot count, but they remain monolingual and happy in their blissful denial of our linear time-bound view of the world. I would say that are that rare gem of a non-temporal culture. Here I am faithfully reading Eckhart Tolle and meditating in my attempt to learn to be in the Now… while the Piraha are already always there!  This adds what I feel is a very important aspect to the Whorfian/anti-Whorfian debate that nobody in my class seems to get. I put my hand in the air once to try to convey it, but gave up with they all looked at me like I had three heads.  Apparently there are no Buddhists in the class.  Anyway: YOU GO, PIRAHA! Nobody yet understands the amazing intimacy these people have with a state of being most of us can only yearn for.

8. Deaf Culturists must LOVE this story. No lip reading for us, thank you very much.

9. Finding my way by two long bus rides to the hospital where Sylvain is undergoing a biannual check. Even though I barely had time to get there, kiss him and turn back around to make my appointment with one of the boarders for English help, it was worth the trip.

10. So I could stay longer, he gave me a $20 for a taxi back.

11. The taxi driver was really nice, took a lesser-known fast route, and got me home right on time. The fare was enough under $20 that the driver smiled at being tipped the rest.

12. The look on my Korean homestay friend’s face when I knocked on his attic room door, ready for the promised help with English (see yesterday’s post). It was such a delight when, after some explaining and supportive examples, the light bulb came on over his head and he smiled the biggest smile, saying to me, “Awesome! You are a GOOD teacher!”

“C tells me you are feeling stressed about your English studies,” I said.

“Yes,” he said. He explained that his reason for going to the Cambridge ESOL school here in Toronto is to prepare for the TOEFL so he can be admitted to the Occupational Therapy program at USC. He already has his undergrad degree in it and wants to get his masters and Ph.D. there. But he’s been here two months with four to go and doesn’t feel his English is getting any better. I looked at his text books and homework. Before long he was dragging out every homework or in-class worksheet with a problem on it that had been left unresolved in his mind when the teacher moved onto other things. He had all these problem items highlighted.  One by one, we tackled them.  What does “known as” mean, as in “Lisa fixes her children something known as a bento lunch.” What does “as though” mean in “It seems as though they know each other.”  D’s English is very advanced. We’re getting into collocations, phrasal verbs, idioms, reported speech and those finer points. You can’t imagine how many example sentences I came up with trying to convey the meaning of the word “subtle.”  At the end of each question’s discussion, the “Aha!” moment eventually came, followed by the big smile and the “Awesome! You are a great teacher!”  We agreed to have more sessions like this one on days when I don’t have homework.

9. I picked up my Part One assignments from the office and read the teachers’ comments. (Yes, more than one teacher.) I was especially pleased with T’s evaluation of my practicum. All our assignments up to now have had two possible marks: pass or do over. But there are three possible marks for the practicum: Unsuccessful, Pass or Pass With Distinction. I passed with distinction.  Because it is my GOOD NEWS for today, I am going to share a portion of my mentor’s comments with the world!

Professionalism: Kelly was very friendly and respectful. she was punctual and arrived prepared each day.

Progress during practicum: At the beginning of the week, her instructions were a bit rushed. By the third day, she had mastered giving simple and clear instructions.

Strengths: Kelly has great class management skills. She is very comfortable at the front of the class. She did an excellent job of always being present. Rather than focusing on what her plan was on paper, she was able to “go with the flow” and remain aware of what was happening in the class. She is a very flexible teacher. She has excellent elicitation skills as well as a solid understanding of PPP. Kelly was able to use level-appropriate language from day one.

Areas for improvement: No particular area stands out as needing major improvement. I think as Kelly builds up her pool of resources, her lessons will become even more student-centred, the flow will continue to improve and she will be able to get more mileage out of her handouts.

10. There were two middle-aged men at the back of the bus. They had white dust on them and paint splattered on their clothes. One man scooched over, drawing in his body so as not to touch the well-dressed woman beside him. “I don’t want to get you dirty,” he said, smiling and then leaning back toward his buddy to continue their chat, which had them both smiling amiably. She didn’t say much. He was leafing through a magazine. When he finished looking at it, he offered it to the young woman. Again, she dismissed him with few syllables. He shrugged and rolled up his magazine. Then he caught me three seats over eavesdropping on the whole thing, a big smile on my face.  ”Do you want it?” he asked, holding out the glossy women’s magazine. “Sure,” I said, taking it. “Thank you.”

11. Everyone I asked for help en route to the hospital (drivers, fellow passengers) were so very kind, helpful and eager to share information.

Here’s an amusing piece about a misadventure in online journalism.
It’s about Yahoo sentencing 200,000 Iranians to death!:

‘How much horseshit? Let’s break it down, just for giggles. Koman’s unnamed source for the story was a guy who had translated an Iranian blog post written in Farsi. The post – which, let’s say it again, was written in Farsi, which Koman doesn’t speak – was published on the blog of an avowedly anti-government Iranian student group. In the original post, which Koman quoted without a secondary source or an independent translation, it was claimed that Yahoo’s Malaysian subsidiary had passed on the information after access to their Iranian site was blocked by Tehran. Yahoo doesn’t have an Iranian site, nor does it have a base of operations in Malaysia. Neither Koman nor anyone else at ZDNet bothered to put the allegations to Yahoo before publishing a story which Koman admitted he hadn’t got entirely “buttoned down”…’

See entire article –WITN?: Yahoo didn’t sentence 200,000 Iranians to death, and other misadventures in online journalism -by Paul Carr on October 10, 2009 -Tech Crunch