The Gritty Truth

I promised to write often and alas, I have had trouble doing so. Not because there is little to write about because there is always something to say but, because what I need to write is hard and having other's read it is harder.

There is the practical side of expecting a baby that leaves me with constant questions and quandaries to my friends and family. Such as, how does one go about buying a Jogger that fits the car seat properly? Since I'm only 90% sure that I am having a girl, should I stick with neutrals so as not to grow attached to pretty things should that 10% overtake the odds? It's hot and I often feel immensely unattractive - how did you expecting mothers cope out there? (Feel free to answer these questions. They are not rhetorical.) I fill my days with finding answers to these questions. I spend countless hours searching online, reading the articles and thrift shopping for bargains. I eat the salad and the fiber to combat the "pregnancy side effects" and I wash my face multiple times a day to clear up the skin that dislikes the heat and the hormones. I occasionally wear the black maxi dress and heals with a splash of my favorite perfume and feel beautiful in my stretching skin. But, no amount of researching, pampering pedicures and soul centering yoga sessions/front of the mirror pep talks can reassure my deepest insecurities.

I always knew he would be leaving the area. Leaving for good. Not far enough away to limit access but far enough that all ties are figuratively severed by his move and consequently, my decision to let him leave. But he will never leave; the eyes or the hair or the skin tone or the quiet demeanor that will be my daughter will never leave. And the part of me that never wants to see him again will see him again and again in her. And the part of me that wishes he weren't gone will find him in her again and again. And there is no doubt that my heart will ache. Will there be any doubt my heart will ache? I won't really be alone.....? A part of him loves her.....?

I've never found words so hard to come by. I've never been at a loss for how to express my feelings. In the fact that this has taken me longer to write than anything since a 60 page Dr. B. IR paper in college tells me how deep the emotion is. Past what I can easily write and easily share. But, still not past the deeper instinct of motherhood that has already marked my soul.

dare i dream

of a deeper me

dare i dream

beyond what i dream

dare i dream

to feel more than i

dare to dream

at 24 weeks 4 days.

I Ain't Never Lookin' Back

I try to think back to my early 20's when I thought about what my life would by like once I reached my late 20's - where I am now. I remember being sure that I would be married young, because to have children too old and be an older parent just seemed abominable. I would have traveled to a few continents, met amazing people that shaped me and gave me knowledge from their own vast experiences. At least by 28 I would have 1 kid, a dog or 2, a picket fence (even if it was in my neighbor's yard and not my own) and a collection of books that filled the floor-to-ceiling bookcase my ever so handy husband had built for me in my dreamed-of library room. At 21, I was sure that 29 would look like the picture of every girl's dreams - full of love, home, stability and well...the inevitable.

I say inevitable and you'll probably start to think that I'm a fatalist and I didn't really believe any of those things would happen to me to begin with. In hindsight, I think my dreams at 20 were the dreams of a generation that believed that to be the path I should desire. To my own detriment at times, I am not one to follow a very well traveled path and at 29, I can tell you which part of that list has come to pass: I had a dog - I had to give him away to move home and finish school. I have traveled to a few continents - and each time I grow a little more and acquire a few more invaluable friends. I have not married "the man of my dreams". I haven't even figured out yet what that man really looks like. I'm definitely a little more jaded and a whole lot less optimistic; reality does that to one. And there is one more thing from the original list that I will be able to check off by the end of the year....

....and that is to welcome a little bit of joy to truly change my life forever, giving me something to love more than this single woman's quest to always love myself. On 15 November (or shortly before or after, you know how these things go) Grandchild Hill #2 is due.

I am excited, scared, worried, expectant, apprehensive (and the antithesis of yogi-esqu, hippy happy serene) and a million other emotions. It has always helped me to write and to read the thoughts of others who may be in similar situations as myself or have been there before so, I'll be writing throughout and I look forward to posting in a week or 2 the sex of the baby! It's the beginning of a lifetime's worth of journeys. And so it begins....no longer somewhere over the rainbow.

A week ago, Lyndi, Meg and I celebrated our 6 month anniversary in India. We marked it by having breakfast at the Gateway Hotel in Surat. There was a lovely buffet of fresh fruit, filtered coffee, Belgian waffles and muesli; among other things. The hotel was lovely; soft music playing in the background, BBC News airing on the silenced TV, black and white clad servers coming to refill our coffee cups. I felt out of place. The wandering school teacher look that I am sporting doesn't quite fit in with the posh NRI's and wealthy businessmen and their Blackberries. Anyway, I didn't really care; there was fresh food in front of me that had not been made with tablespoon heaped upon bucket-full of oil. I was paying attention to that and the hushed quiet. Silence. Ah, welcomed silence. How I've missed you, peace and quiet.

Flight or Fight. I remember hearing and learning these words vividly in my intercultural classes at Houghton. Sometimes, you'll want to run the other way. The honeymoon, "This is all so new and different!" stage is long gone. The blinders are off. There are serious flaws in the system to make me want to take flight, and I'm aware of them, not ignoring them, and finding it hard not to be annoyed by them.

The Flaws: students that don't give a crap and teachers/principals that look like they are ignoring it because, "What can you do? You work within your limitations"...So, I'm supposed to just give them work to do in class that they have the answers to in their "GUIDE BOOKS" (it is not a guide book when it is giving you the exact answers to any and all questions, exam essay, etc) ?? These are students that are in the commerce stream. Forgive me if I'm wrong, but I think that we are here teaching English to exactly that demographic: those that will run businesses and the like. India makes English compulsory for exactly the students and future businessmen that these students will become. Yet, they don't care. In a class of 40 or so (these classes are smaller because their classmates that made up classrooms of 70 or 80 in standards 9 and 10 have dropped out) 3 or 4 students will attempt to do what looks to me like, appeasing the teacher. They don't like to see me marching to the principals office armed with a list of complaints and urges. They answer the questions to the best of their knowledge (with the help of their trusty guide books!!). I called on some boys in the back that seemed to have a lot to say, only none of it was pertaining to the class or directed towards me. The kid stood there for a few minutes, unable to read. I put up on the board, "I'm not here to embarrass you, I'm here to help you."

I want to give up on the 11th Standard hooligans. Yes, I did say hooligans.

Fight. Well, I could fight for them. I could fight against my emotions and keep pressing on. I could look forward to April when I'm back in the States to a different type of insanity that seems fairly placid from where I stand right now. I could go into that classroom on Thursdays and Fridays and love those obnoxious kids enough to keep doing it...I could do that.

I feeling the ups and downs more now than at the beginning. Recurring events are more obvious to me. It's easier to focus on the downs; maybe because they remind me how much work I have to do, how long it takes to accomplish some things, and that sometimes there is just nothing that one person can do; which is hard to accept for the dreamers and optimists in the world. But I guess I should recount the ups, because they are what is making it hard for me to imagine leaving come April.

Our clerks office is great. They are always helpful and I don't know how many letters I have taken to them to deliver to the post office for me and had them pay for it for me. A week ago they asked me if I would teach them English and of course I said yes because I really like these guys and they are always trying so hard to communicate with me. We had our first lesson on Friday, to great success. We worked on the WH questions. Saturday I came in to say good morning and get the key for the library and Chindan asked me where his lesson was for today! I walked out smiling. At least someone is excited to learn. And any teacher will tell you, that's what keeps you going. It's keeping me going at the start of another hectic, full, demanding week.

Meet my new students: The Clerks Office Class

Second Wind

They say it takes 7 weeks to make things a habit. While it hasn't yet been 7 weeks, we all seem to be getting in the habit of getting out on the road for our daily runs. It's becoming a routine and one that I don't dread but look forward to at the end of what has lately been, a very long day.

Now that I am into my second term teaching, I can see how last term I was really just getting into the routine of things. This term seems to be going much smoother for me. While I work with great co-teachers, these last couple of weeks I really feel like I am making headway in the classes and being an effective and creative teacher. Recently, I have been being much more diligent about making sure homework is turned in, spelling tests are administered and punishments are doled out (instead of making empty threats). While I know these points are making a difference in my student's performance, it means more work. On top of this, we have a lot going on with all the new books that have been donated to the Foundation for our libraries. Running in the evenings gets my mind off work for an hour; relieving my stress.

As Meg and I ran this week, we talked about discipline problems in our classes; discussing what has worked and what really hasn't been effective. Discipline in an Indian classroom with an American as the teacher is often a precarious routine. While it is illegal to hit students, most teachers still do to maintain authority in the classroom. With 70 students in a class, things obviously get out of hand. I don't, under any stretch of the imagination, feel comfortable with hitting students so I have to find more creative ways to illicit their cooperation. On Friday, I put my new disciplinary plan into action - if homework was not brought in in my 9A class, the students would be picking up garbage from the school yard. One girl brought in the assignment. We went over her homework and I gave her one on one help while the rest of the kids picked up their trash that they prefer to throw on the ground; both in the classroom and outside it. Let's see if they bring in Monday's homework...we might have a really clean school yard after next week if not!

More training news to come...it's time to lace up my shoes for a long run....

Week 2

It was a long day; Thursday's are always long for me. In and out of chakras and auto-rickshaws, feeling as if I'm traveling the length of Surat district. The moment I got out on the road though, I felt better. Meg and I are still running in the evenings and for the first time since I've been here, I could see the stars.

Today we ran 2.5 miles at race pace - we don't really know what that is exactly so we just ran at a comfortable pace. The sparkle of stars above us and the sound of crickets in the sugar cane fields entertained us as we ran. The amount of traffic on our "Sugar Cane Lane" is so less at this time of night (I just used and Indian phrase right there. What is happening to me!?); just us, the trucks empty of their sugar crop on the way back home, and bicycles coming at us in the pitch dark. It's a perfect end to a long day.

But, I have another cold - India has completely killed my immune system and I'm exhausted from the long day. Will post more after our long run tomorrow! Happy running everyone...

The Week 1 Endurance Test

It's week 1 and I've already decided that I hate running in the mornings. Lyndi and Drew seem fine with waking up while it's still dark, running through the smoke of villager's cooking fires and sprinting past parked trucks with their drivers either fast asleep at the wheel or looking out their windows at us in incredulous wonder. My feeling is, mornings are for cups of coffee, the newspaper and struggling with my sari.

Meg and I have decided to run in the evenings. It gets dark early here, same as most of the world right now, so we are often jogging towards fast approaching darkness.

We took a new route tonight that took us through the migrant worker's tent village across the river. There, exercise is not something one chooses to do for their health. I wonder if staying 'fit' even crosses their minds. Staying fed is their driver. They work hard in the sugarcane fields all day, the women bend over their wash at the river; beating the life out of their clothes to clean them - why would they want to run on top of that? The crazy white girls are providing some entertainment, that's for sure.

It's still week 1 and I'm feeling pretty good. My legs haven't reached the leaden stage yet. Maybe that won't happen, but I'm guessing it will...

Until next time...

Hitting the Pavement

When my roommate suggested I start training with her for a marathon my first thought was that it was a great idea. We started running during the summer season, before monsoons, and after a few weeks we realized that no matter how early we woke up, it was just too hot to continue it. Then monsoons started up and it was raining nearly 24 hours a day for a good long time. At this point I thought training was a crazy idea.

A vacation full of food in Nepal prompted me to reconsider the marathon training option. That, and we have decided to make it a fundraising opportunity for Nanubhai. The hope is, that people will be interested in reading our daily blogs on training, have an interest in rural education in India, and want to sponsor us to run. Soon, there will be a link on the Nanubhai website (www.nanubhai.org) to this blog and Lyndi, Drew and I will write about our training experience and our experiences in India.

We started yesterday. I always hate getting back into the habit of running. The first weeks are terrible and you want to give up. The weather is cooler, that's for sure, but conditions are still tough. The pollution levels, even out here in the rural areas, are intense and the roads we often run on, not more than a one lane, pot holed path full of stray rocks and buffalo dung. But, it's beautiful. The scenery is constantly changing and running through the villages as they wake up is always an experience.

Completed day 2 today. Muscles are sore from running twice yesterday and probably not stretching properly. Is it time for a day off yet?? Lyndi is a rigid trainer so...probably not. That's what I get for training with an experienced marathon runner...wish me luck.