one tube of toothpaste at a time

Some people (ahem, J. Alfred Prufrock) measure out their lives with coffee spoons.

I measure time in toothpaste tubes.

Which, for those of you who have ever seen me totally lost in thought while brushing my teeth, probably comes as no surprise. But I mean this quite literally. I have measured my time here in Macedonia with tubes of toothpaste. being a hippie, I brought my hippie-dippie toothpaste with me to Macedonia, and over the past almost eight months--crazy to see written on the page. how has it been eight months already?--have slowly worked my way through them, one pea-sized dollop of toothpaste at a time. I started in on my third (and final) tube at least a month ago, but watching it slowly empty has really hit home just how long I've been here, although I've certainly got enough left to last me until July (I hope).

and my plan is to head home and replenish my stock (and say hi to Grandma!)--and then come back to Tetovo.

It isn't quite finalized yet, but I'm planning/hoping on signing a contract in the next week to be an English/Social Studies teacher (11th grade) here in Tetovo at a private school for another year. I realized that I wasn't quite ready to leave just yet, and this really hit home as I started to apply for other jobs, start looking at grad school programs, started to plan a life outside of Macedonia, and it just didn't feel right. So a month ago, I met with the director of the school (based on the American educational system--whatever that means. Dad poignantly asked, 'so what version of history will you be teaching--and what version of history am I [he's a 4-6th grade teacher] teaching?' I love my family), met with the principal, sat in on classes, and slowly started being able to see myself there, started imagining ways in which I could fit into this community. the school is quite new--this is their second year--so part of my job is going to be doing a lot of faculty/admin development, specifically helping design and facilitate an English and Social Studies department and start creating the structures through which faculty discussion/learning/collaboration can happen. Thus far, the people I've spoken to have been really receptive to exploring new ideas, and I think being there will not completely satisfy, but certainly speak to my creative side. and there are already a lot of exciting things going on--place-based education in the 7th grade, for example. (and my heart sings just a little).

I do have my concerns about working at a private school--because the quest for profit can change/impact priorities--but the problem is that priorities, especially in education, can be influenced by all sorts of things in the public sector as well. however, the cost of the school certainly limits access. but I'm planning on continuing my classes at the American corner with my kids (their faces lit up when I mentioned I was applying for a job here, and I can't wait to see them grow and change over another year), and hopefully exploring ways in which my students (my students? jeez. i'm not quite sure I can call them mine just yet) can become more aware of and sensitive to their community. and civically engaged and conscious. and start bridging some of these gaps between school and community.

and there are so many resources out in the community which I think can be utilized--if teachers (with a little creativity) are only given the flexibility and freedom to do so. For example, beautiful parks up in the mountains (so why doesn't my class adopt a park and go up there once a month to keep it clean, to have a picnic? get some fresh air? get a little dirty? develop habits for taking care of natural places, for getting out from the glare of the screen, for watching the seasons change?

and this year, I think I've still kept this label of 'teacher' at at least arms length--most of my students are my age, and yes, I get to grade them, but I identify so much more with them as colleagues than students (and I hope it's reciprocated--but they're probably a bit more aware of the differentiation of power between us). so again, now, I'm grappling with this label of being a 'teacher' and all that entails. and just hoping that I'll be patient enough with them and myself as I grow into this new aspect of my life.

so. I'm only planning on bringing another three tubes of toothpaste with me back to Tetovo, but as Bill Bryson says, 'there's always a little more toothpaste in the tube. Think about it.' 

'it doesn't matter if you're a boy or a girl, it matters what's in your h-h-heart'

This morning I finished 'teaching' The World in Claire's Classroom for the first (and definitely not the last) in my days as a teacher. And every time I watch the film, I am dumbfounded by the profound, deep, complex, wise things these first and second-graders not only think but say, express, communicate. if only more people (more teachers especially) took the time to ask them what they thought, and then listened to their answers.

there's a beauty to the simplicity of language, but the complexity of thought children use.
and how empowering it is--for someone from an early age--to feel, to believe that their voice is worthy, their voice is heard. their opinions are desired and respected. and have the same legitimacy as the voice of an adult. 

And watching the film (for any of you in Grinnell there's a copy there, and a copy here in Tetovo: please ask, and I will gladly lend it to you! I'm not sure if it's available on-line anywhere, but hunt it down. it's worth it. and I'm not just saying this because it's about my home), my heart swells with gratitude for the place I call home, and the people I call home. And that someone (or someones--Lisa and Alan, a million thanks) had the foresight to know, to anticipate that Claire Oglesby is a woman to capture. because she lives not only in the film--but I see bits and pieces of her in everyone who watches her, who steps into her classroom, internalizes that atmosphere, that community. and to me, there is nothing more beautiful than hoping that my students now carry a piece of her, her wisdom, her care, her compassion with them too, into classrooms, homes, communities here.

I know that there are so many barriers to creating the respectful community illustrated in the film, but the film--I think (I hope)--at least offers the possibility, the hope and the knowledge that this can exist. it has existed. and can be created again.

After watching a portion of the film with our class last week, Zeko said "this is the school I dreamed about."

Me too, I wanted to reply. Except that this dream is also my reality. and each time I watch the film I'm reminded of how and why I believe that schools, schooling, it can work! there are ways to translate critical pedagogy, critical theory into critical practice. and that knowledge, that hope, that dream is my pedagogical/philosophical north star.

it's also amazing to me how the same issues which resonated with my seven-year-old-self--issues of gender equality, of being heard, of marginalization and the human/emotional impact of that, of having space to be vulnerable-- are still the issues that resonate with me now. A friend (Ned) who I haven't been in contact with in over five years, recently told me--'but we still know each other because, honestly, how much have we fundamentally changed since high school?' and at first I was baffled by that thought--of course we've changed since high school! but now, watching the film, I'm starting to wonder--have I changed since second grade? or am I still that same child, still that same woman?

and I think for a long time, I was uncomfortable with the truthful (my truth, that is) answer to that question because (I perceive that) for so many people that scene defines me as  'the girl that wanted to be Gandhi but wasn't.'  (which I'm coming to see isn't that bad of a legacy to carry with you (but it's taken me a long time to get here). and again, I hear Vahido's voice 'are you going to be a peacemaker?', so striving to be Gandhi--or more accurately a Gandhi. at times (most of the time) it feels like too tall of an order, but at least it gives me something to aspire to become) but my truth, what resonates for me from this scene, from this film is that I am still that person--still someone moved/frustrated to the point of tears by injustice. and that's ok. even if my tears, my hiccuping voice is captured on film. that's not something to be ashamed of.

and with sweet memories of Claire so vivid in my mind, today I'm especially grateful to be her adashe, to share her name. and I have a feeling I'll always be Little Claire. and hopefully, walking in her footsteps.