Colorado Christmas

After 39 hours of travel, I'm home for Christmas! The break from school and Dhaka is much needed. It's soooo good to be around my family again after 4 and a half months. It's also weird being back in a way- like I'll wake up from the reality I've gotten used to. Wonderfully, Dad, the boys, Drew and Chase (godson) picked me up from DIA yesterday afternoon with big, neon signs reading, "Stonewall Butterpants", "Welcome back to 'Merica!" and "Mrs. Bouschibottom". First observations: DANG Karl's tall! DOUBLE DANG Ev's got facial hair (that's red?)!

My travels went well- felt quick! I flew from Dhaka (where my favorite driver, Mujibur, dropped me off) to United Arab Emirates (the airport is like a spacestation) to LAX (where I wore the red dot to see what people's reactions would be). On my 16.5 hour flight, I had an empty seat next to me and a really nice man from Kuwait in the window seat (a Kuwaitian? Kuwaiti?). We had epic conversations and he let me curl up in the empty seat between us. I helped him with the non-resident paperwork and we spoke about how funny British and American accents are. He was "confused about why you live in Bangladesh, so far away from home" and a great conversation came out of that.

Seeing the pets and Mom's in-construction-kitchen have been nice little things. Also on the list of nice little things: not having black boogers, not worrying about swallowing shower water, calling Nick and it's not the opposite time of day.

Anyhoodle, the house is starting to stir, so I'm going to go enjoy!
Merry CHRISTmas!

White Girl Rant

If I get meowed at one more time whilest arguing with a rickshaw wallah over price for a ride one more time this week, I'm likely to let a curse word (or four) slip out! I just need to vent/rant about being treated like a rich kid in the middle of a muslim third world country. Just an hour ago, I was standing outside the Bagha (a British club in a section of town called Baridara). Being a white girl by myself on the street in the evening, the wonderful guard of the club (always a remarkable gentlemen) was helping me get a rickshaw home. The wallah came over, I asked him in Bangla if he had change, ''Bai, bente asi?'' He asked how much change I wanted. I asked for 20 taka (only needing to pay him 30 taka to get back to my neighborhood, DOHS Baridara a.k.a. the foreigner area). He scauffed and said, ''You pay me 50.'' I said, ''That Badeshi price, Bai, I pay you maybe 35.'' He replied with, ''You English. You pay 50. Bangladeshi pay 35. You English.'' As I was wanting to yell at him and ask if white people somehow weigh more than Bangali people, the dred cry let out near by: ''Meeeoooooooww!''

Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat. Hold up. I've heard this one before. On to the next wallah.

The next wallah, who was flashed a little smile from moi (in hopes that a lesser scene would be caused in front of all the gaping men on this street at this point), quickly agreed that I pay him 40 taka. Fine. Of course, ten minutes later, he demanded 50 outside of my home. When I pulled the Alla-is-watching-card, he stopped pretending that he had no change.

My friend Dave summed up the internal conflict of typical interactions with Bangladeshis on the street really, really well last night. We were talking about a question a new friend, Maffouz, had asked us. Dave said something like this: For us, being respected is being treated as an equal. That's Western thinking, but that's what we're used to. Here, we are respected by being called ''Boss'' and ''Madame'' by everyone in eyeshot of us. Thing is, I'm not anybody's boss. Truth is, I make so little money, I couldn't feed myself with it at home. Here it's a small fortune, but I'm just not a rich kid. Being looked at as only a chance for a handout.... sucks.

Then Fred (my pastor) shared how a beggar boy was following him home from the grocery store asking for 2 taka that day. Fred gave him something cooked to eat (probably cost 20 taka, 28 cents u.s.d.). The kid dropped it on the ground and kept on him for 2 taka.

Honestly, we laugh and play the ''You know you've lived here too long when...'' game, but this week someone behind me said, ''Madame!'' and I turned around like it was my name. I didn't think about it, but I thought/assumed they were talking to me. I make less than $9,000.00 here. That's my salary. There's straight up incredible provision for me as far as benefits and housing goes, and I'm even able to save money, but I just am not a rich kid. It's an adjustment I'm failing at.

Maffouz told us the story of when he first saw a white person (he grew up in Dhaka and just experienced a semester abroad in Michigan). He was about 8 when he saw a white person. He was with his dad, so he asked him, ''Why do they look like that?'' Miffouz' dad replied, ''They're white so they're really good. They're a good person. Their skin is light and pure. It's something in their skin.'' Miffouz described when he first saw a black person, too. He happened to be with his dad again, years later, and his dad's reply was, ''They're black, so they are a very good person. It's something in their skin.'' This is what brought on the whole conversation.... How are foreigners treated here? What is it like? He earnestly wanted to know and it was an interesting convo between 2 Englishmen, an Irishwoman, 4 Americans, a Bengladeshi man, and a Kiwi.

In this jumble of thought, I just now thought about my conversation with my dad this morning. He was telling me about some Muslim guy in Yemen who's telling Muslims worldwide to kill Christians. Dad said, as he usually does, ''So be really careful. Can you do that? Be careful not to stand out.'' Hahaha.... man. I stand out. I stand out like a sore thumb. The ''public'' in this town is like 90% men in any given place, at any given time (if not more) and I am Money Bags Madame to them.

Year 4 Poem (by a Year 4 Parent)

Last month at school was Special Emphasis Week. The theme was "Rap, Rhythm, and Ryhme" which allows us to have an AWESOME week of rap, dance, song, poetry, art..... so much. Wonderfully, one of my kids' parents visited the class to share some of her own poetry. She really showed us that everyone is an author. She wrote this amazing poem about us! Her point of view is so touching to me- Indian, Christian, mom, observer. Enjoy!


Year 4

1, 2, 3, 4
Ah! That’s it…
Year 4.
This is Year 4 classroom
I have lovely beaming son in here.
Where is he?! Oh! Where’s he?
Oh there he is
Happy as ever, oh! Thanks.
He doesn’t put that cooky frown on.
Oh! I know he’s in a lovely home
With a bunch of happy friends
With beaming smiles on their faces.
I can see some gaps by missing tooth.

Can you recite them?
They would sound a lovely song in my ears.
I know them all as clear as mine,
As friendly tigers:
Tae-Min, Haaris, Ameya, Siddharth,
Rafhan, Rohan, Jared, Alexander…
Where’s he?
I do not see him anywhere.
Leave far, far away
But I wonder how many tigers fly?
I hear their growl
But not see them fly.
Perhaps he is with new tigers.
Happy wishes for him.

In come more friendly tigers:
Aagneya, Matthew, Zechariah, Tawfiq.
How nice to see them grow
With their sharp canines.
I wish they don’t grow their nails
But they cut them short.
Oh yeah! I did not miss
Friendly tigresses.
They keep tigers’ growls and yell.
Hope I don’t miss any of them:
Alisha, Cassia, Ellie, Celine,
Eira, Svea, and Amber joining in.
Oh! Prathana came away by the wind
And Pruitt too.

Tigers & Tigresses under care
Of the most lovely Miss. Schroeder.
“Silly Miss. Schroeder”
As the cheeky tigers & tigresses
Address her.
Oh! It’s heaven on earth!
Lovely bunch of creative children,
Miss. Schroeder holding them
Proudly showing them off
As the peacock shows
His wonderful feathers.

Oh! Please check for their nails.
Well, good... they are trimmed.
As I said,
They are friendly tigers
Lovely bunch of friendly tigers
Where anybody who’s let in
Peeping would enjoy.

School Today

Do what you can, with what you have, where you are.

-Teddy Roosevelt

The best reaction to what my kiddos saw this morning was a sneaky smile of giggles. Most of the boys walked in to the classroom and yelped, "What?!??!" or went "WHOAAAA!" Their desks and chairs were in a wild pile in the carpet area. In the center of where their desks used to be were two big plush mats. I didn't think anyone noticed that their desk group baskets were somewhere on the floor on the mats... like we'd actually be USING the space today to learn in..... They went about their business as usual until our morning Assembly time.

We had Class Assembly (instead of a whole-school one), talking about the stuff of our classroom and school; how awesome it is to have been blessed with it all. We prayed for the children of Dhaka who don't have all the learning junk we utilize. We prayed not to be distracted today by sitting on the floor (otherwise known as "wiggle bottom" to all you teachers out there a.k.a the bain of my existence). We prayed that we learn the true meaning of the quote above (it hangs in the classroom

Our door read "Welcome to Slum School" today. We went all day without some of the things children in the slum schools of Dhaka go without: Air conditioning, desks, chairs, and recess play equipment (Oh no, no soccer balls??!?). They had no idea it was coming! Basically, it was GREAT. The kids had to sit on the ground all day (instead of slouching in their wooden chairs) and we occasionally put the fans on.

Today was inspired by last week's school visitor, Freek (my very quiet neighbor from the Netherlands) and 6 slum school school girls. This Saturday is Grace's annual Autumn Fair, which collects money and donations for their local "slum" school nearby. Freek and his lovely ladies presented the conditions of the one-room school house that houses grades 1 - 5 twice a day, five days a week. The sweet, sweet girls did a traditional Bengali dance (for like 10 minuntes- totally typical of traditional dances here). Freek showed us pictures and answered questions as well. It all came down to this:o

• Our poor little Christian school ain't so poor after all.


• Children of Dhaka are LUCKY if they can go to a "slum" school. Dhaka’s population is expanding by 4.4% each year, making it the fastest-growing city in the world. This makes education of children low on the list of the hungry and needy.


• GIRLS are really lucky to attend formal scholing. They don't usually grow up to get jobs and students must pay for a uniform here.


• Year 4 students had some things to.... consider....

I have to say, I love my job so much. I'm thankful this message could be brought to my students. I'm thankful for the national staff of our school that really encouraged me because, "they have to learn this." I'm really thankful my Head of School supported the idea despite having it popped on her at 7:00am, and in fact, was so on board, she went and found beautiful blown-up pictures of smiling students learning on the floor of Freek's church's school.

What I'm MOST THANKFUL FOR TODAY came in a moment. It was the moment one of my (always inquiring) Hindu students asked why Christ gives us all of this and them none of it? How can that be if He loves us all so much? I let this idea out and let it marinate in all of them: Welcome to the broken world, sweetheart. This isn't paradise anymore. This world is full of man's decisions because God gives us free will to do what we want, including love Him or NOT. Remember, He doesn't want robot-human-love (this student loves this idea- who doesn't)? And unfortunately, mankind doesn't really choose to give all children the same opportunites.



HumanFail.


Praise the Lord for loving this child so much as to send this mesage to him at his Christian school! It's quite a bizarre thing to send your Hindu child to a Christian school in a Muslim country, yes??

Hahahaha... love it. He truly works in EVERYONE's life in weird ways.

Walkin Around

Kim and I were walking around yesterday, doing some shopping, and started talking about what everybody at home would think of the things we're now accustomed. Right when this conversation began, we walked by a couple men sitting on a blanket with two piles of goat heads. The goat heads were a bit unrecognizable at first, being soaked in black oil and bodiless. We laughed and never broke our stride. That's exactly what we weren't talking about, but it qualified. The men paused mid-Eid prep to stare at us... and then kept right on with their machete business.

Half an hour later, we walked through Gulshan 2 and accumulated a small tribe of followers: little beggar boys wanting food and money. They probably saw us buying cheap pearls in the nearby shop (It's a daily adjustment to live the privileged life in a third-world country, coming from middle-class America). We quickened our pace, but looking at Kim and knowing my own feelings, we were both in love with one of the boys. He was so sweet! He acted like our protector and local guide amongst the traffic (since we're so obviously NOT from here). He stopped on-coming cars and moved a man out of the way as we kept walking. He asked me things in Bangla and then translated them in perfect English when I didn't understand. I stopped to buy him and his buddy a banana apiece. WRONG MOVE KRISTA! That's when our little tribe suddenly became a big tribe of shoeless children. It was crappy to stick to my original plan and only buy two bananas, but we would've been even mauled further if we'd decided to do more in the moment.

Other [now] normal encounters on this trip out of the house included: picking up a rickshaw walla with a really red mouth (high on juicy red sheesh), riding by a man with no legs, scooting furiously at us on the road, talking about anything we want in open public because nobody understands us, and continuing to throw up furiously, as we had been the last two days, upon getting home.

These are all crazy things that we all kinda laugh about being accustomed to (better than crying), but I really think (lately) about how my view of money, complaining, and what "being poor" means. I keep thinking about my friends and family back home.... if they will understand.... if I will hate the things people say. I hate the things I mentally (and verbally) complained about. There's just no way to justly describe what it's like over here. This blog does nothing for it for sure. It's wild to teach Bible stories to my class (currently: Noah's Ark) and then see the streets of Dhaka because it's very much what I picture Bible times to have been like: beggars following people and chopped up goat heads just out in the open all the time.

I dunno. It's constant confrontation and awesome displacement for me.

Asalaam Alaykum from Dhaka

"Madam, pleeeeaaaaaazze, madam."
A high-pitched wheezy whine from outside the car window.

Again, my new friends signal the head to chest motion that means, "Forgive me" from the confines of the safe, air-conditioned van. They try not to break eye contact, but at some point you have to give up. The beggar woman, standing no more than 5 feet tall, will remain at her post. We're temperarily stopped at an intersection that I mentally compare to the Times Square of Dhaka, Bangladesh. In Gulshan 2 Circle the beggars are out in hords because it's the Muslim holy month of ramadan. Normally, some children and women beg here amongst the stopped cars and rickshaws for food, sweets, and 1 or 2 taka. Sometimes they are collecting for a man, who is sitting, watching, smoking, waiting in a nearby car. But since it's ramadan, the beggars from the surrounding villages have migrated to Gulshan 2, providing the opportunity for people to give to them, thereby earning their way into paradise.

I'm cranky from the heat.

Everyone's cranky. Everyone's cranky for a different reason though: they are fasting all day until Eid. Again, they're trying to earn their place in paradise.

In the van we're talking about the basics of life here. My new collegues/room mates/friends/sisters/brothers have lived and worked here for at least a week before me. They're teachers (mostly) from other Western countries, such as Ireland, England, Australia, and New Zealand. They explain to me that it's best to have your mind made up about what you want to do with beggars, and then just stick to it. It's explained not a moment too soon because, oh, look, here comes a man and a child in his arms with an exploding, large head. I try to remember what that's called.... My prinicipal sweetly smiles at them, rolls down his window in the front left seat, and gives them an apple he brought.

Macrocephaly! The kid has macrocephaly. He was born like that and lives on the streets here or in a village. I think, "Please Lord let that child be from a country village, not dirty, loud, rude Gulshan 2."


This is Bangladesh. Actually, "This is Bangladesh" is a term of endearment/hate that Bangladeshis and Badeshis (foreigners) all say. When I first heard that term, my new friend Kim and I were riding a rickshaw in torrential downpour. She shouted it, laughing, over the loud rain. When I first heard that term, I thought of several good friends at home who came back from missions telling us stories that ended in giggles and the inevitable, "This is Kenya" or "This is China."

I've been keeping up with most everyone back home through Facebook and email. Sorry this first post is coming a month and a half into my big move here! Turns out the life of a new teacher in Bangladesh takes up a lot of one's day... Who knew? Everyone asks me what it's like. Well, I found the perfect description in a book I started yesterday (the book is Holy Cow! by Sarah MacDondald- a hilarious read if you want to know what life is like here). The description is actually about India, but it works:

India is beyond statement, for anything you say, the opposite is true. It's rich and poor, spiritual and material, cruel and kind, angry but peaceful, ugly and beautiful, and smart but stupid. It's all the extremes. India defies understanding, and for once, for me, that's okay. In Australia, in my small pocket of my own isolated country, I felt like I understood my world and myself, but now I'm actually embracing not knowing and I'm questioning some of what I thought I knew ... What's more, India's extremes are endlessly confronting.

When I answer that question in short for myself, I have to say: God is good.

I really, really miss my loves ones. Honestly, that sacrifice has to be lifed up everyday. Also the sacrifice of not getting to eat cheese or Pringles, or pet my dogs, or drive the Schroeder Exploder has to be tearfully lifted up time to time... But I have no better job. My class is AMAZING and the people of Bangladesh are INCREDIBLE. There's just no better job than what I get to do.

Love you all and I'm thinking of you constantly.
XOXOXO

Dang Mang

Well, this really isn't how I envisioned my transition to Bangladesh. In the last four days, I moved my flights back due to visa problems, my loving grandfather ("Boppy") died, and I probably have to change my flights back again. Despite express mailing an express mail envelope in an express mail envelope, the U.S. Postal Service didn't get my passport and visa to me by noon like it was guaranteed. I'm praying to get it tomorrow morning.

The great thing about having to move my flights the first time was getting to spend lots of time with Boppy and my family. He was at the ripe age of 92, setting the bar quite high for us grand kids! It was definitely his time and his death was very peaceful. He and I had an intimate conversation and I got to take care of him at the hospital and hospice. God's timing with my original visa problems proved to be greater than my plans!

Wish me luck!
The greatest difficulty about leaving later is preparing for school. It's my first year teaching, and the first days of school are the most important of the year. School starts Monday, August 9th. I feel like at some point the quality of teaching lowers without getting to prep your classroom, road mapping for the year, and planning for the week. Luckily, I can view my (British) curriculum online. Wonderfully, the staff at first school has been working on my classroom! The teacher I'm replacing and the teacher next door to me (both my age and friends already) have set up new furniture and labeled my students' books! I'm headed towards awesome people.

Please pray for my visa situation. If I don't get it early on Sunday, I will have to change my flights quickly (24 hrs before take off).

Thanks friends!
XOXO

So Close, Yet So Far Away

Crazy news- I'm not leaving Thursday, July 29th, as planned. Unfortunately, some visa issues came up, so I had to change my flights. I'm departing Monday, August 2nd at 10:30am with the same exact itinerary! I express mailed my visa this morning, but there is the possibility of having to push back my flights yet again. Through all the scrambling, stressing, and praying, a verse has been awesome:

Though I am free and belong to no man, I make myself a slave to everyone, to win as many as possible. -1 Corinthians 9:19

Prayer Needed
Please pray for my visa to get approved and back in my hands by Saturday. Also, please pray for my first days in Bangladesh. I'll be arriving in Dhaka four days before school starts. It's my first year teaching, and the first days of school are the most important of the year. I'll get to do planning before I leave and on the plane, but I won't set eyes on supplies until I get to school. Also, my grandpa, Pete (or "Boppy"), is dying. He passed out this evening and went to the hospital. His blood pressure is very low and heart rate is very high. When asked about what he wanted to do, he asked, "What's going to make me die faster?" I'm hoping Boppy lets peace enter his heart from the Holy Spirit and he's made comfortable.

On the brighter side of things, here are pictures of my future apartment building and school, and I found out my address:

Krista Schroeder

c/o Grace International School

House 78(B), Road 23,

Gulshan 1, Dhaka 12 12

Bangladesh

Peace and blessings, peace and blessings...

Getting Ready for Bangy

Well, I'm getting ready for this crazy adventure! It's fun to pack my two giant suit cases, prepare (not so much with shots- ouch!), and shop for what I imagine I'll be wearing with saris and scarves. It's awesome to be encouraged by family members, friends of our family, and my friends- thanks for your excitement and support! I do have moments of sadness, thinking of the people I'll miss being around. I'll really miss being with my brothers, Nick, my parents, my college friends, and my hometown friends. It's really the only bummer I have about going to Bangladesh. At the beginning of the hiring process, a couple verses from the Bible really helped my heart:

Commit to the LORD whatever you do, and your plans will succeed. Proverbs 16:3

I know that everything God does will endure forever; nothing can be added to it and nothing taken from it. God does it so that men will revere him. Ecclesiastes 3:14

Maybe you are about to embark on a new chapter and can find love and relief in those verses. Now that I'm moving to Dhaka on July 29th (less than three weeks away!), these verses have encouraged me so much:

The LORD your God is with you, He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with his love, He will rejoice over you with singing. Zephaniah 3:17

Look to the LORD and his strength; seek his face always.Remember the wonders he has done, his miracles, and the judgments he pronounced. 1 Chronicles 16:11-12

Starting Life in Dhaka
My travel time to Dhaka is 30 hours total. I'm flying from Denver, to NY, to India, to Bangladesh. When I asked my vice principal how I'd know who she is at the airport, she replied, "I'll be the only other white girl." I'll be living alone in an air conditioned, furnished apartment in a building filled with staff members from school. I've been told that a very sweet older couple from England will be living across the hall from me. Wonderfully, I've been talking to other young sisters in Christ that have become fast friends of mine! They experienced their first year(s) of teaching at Grace, just as I will. As is the norm over there, I'll have a Bengali worker in the home to do my cleaning, shopping, laundry, and cooking. I'll be totally worthless when I come home! I'll be rooming with lots of little critters, including 4" cockroaches and little lizards. We like the little lizards because they eat 500 mosquitoes an hour! I'm so excited to go on trips with people from school! I've been told that Thailand is an expensive trip, but India and Burma are right there and are reasonable trips. I also plan to plug into a ministry at Dhaka University, or another ministry, we'll see.

Starting Work in Dhaka
School starts about a week after I arrive! Grace International is a Christian school with no ties to a particular denomination or church. I'll be teaching British curriculum (whoa!) to a class of no more than eighteen students. 40% of my students' families are in the Desh on mission and the rest work at the expatriate embassies and businesses. The staff of my school is made up of expatriates (non-military foreigners) from all over the world! I've already received my class list (including my students' names, nationalities, and goofy personal questions for me). They are from many, many countries as well (including Korea, the UK, and the U.S.). All students at Grace must hold a foreign passport. Wonderfully, I'll have a classroom aid whose Bengali. I recently found out I'll be teaching my class music- that's throwing me for a loop! At UNC, elementary ed majors take a semester of elem ed music, PE, and art never really thinking they'll have to teach it... at least I didn't! The school is also air conditioned. I'll be picked up from my apartment and driven to school ten minutes away every morning in a staff van. I understand that my classroom is not large, but is clean and lovely.

Communication
I'll be there for ten months! Care packages, letters, and Christmas cards are welcome! As soon as I know my local address, I'll post it here. I plan to blog here when I can about my experiences to keep as many people as I can in the know. You can certainly email me and Facebook me and I'll answer you as quickly as I can. Internet at school and home is totally available, but Dhaka experiences days with out electricity routinely (being a large urban city of 15 million people). Please, please, PLEASE get a Skype or ooVoo account! On ooVoo, you can send and receive video messages for free. At this point, I'm thinking that will be sanity-saving for me since there is a 12-hour difference between Colorado and Bangy and Skype dates might be difficult to arrange. I would love to talk to any of you!!

Love you,
Krista