Post 14: All I Am

I was told by one of my teachers in high school that studies show the attention span of the average adult to be about seven minutes. I do not think I am an exception to this rule especially where writings blogs are concerned. I am not bored with telling people about my life, but I just do not like writing about it. I like too much to attempt to personalize details and stories and tangents to my audience. My audience is too wide to do that easily. I have thought about what I want to spend the next seven (to fifteen) minutes talking about: my identity.

How can I cover my identity in fifteen minutes? Well, I better not waste any time.

Today was a completely free day. I did not have to go to school. I did not have to pack by backpack and head off for an English camp or travel anywhere. I literally got to just stay home. That should be liberating, right? Well, it was definitely nice to not wake up to an alarm clock, but I must say that it was also a little…jarring.

I finally Skyped with one of my friends from back home, and she remarked that I was an English teacher. Well, of course I am an English teacher. Okay, technically, I am an English Teaching Assistant. Close enough. Now, what did she mean? I shall tell you.

Being an ETA in Malaysia, I don’t have much of an identity outside of my job at school. Although this is not the case for many or most ETAs, it has become apparent to me that I am an ETA in Malaysia and that is about it. Every weekend, more or less, I am at an English camp. That is English teaching work. Throughout the week, I go to school at the beginning of each school day and often stay until the end of the day. Sounds like English teaching, does it not? When students are not fasting, I usually have some after-school activity with them to boost their English skills and to keep me from having idle hands. More English teaching. In the evenings, I am occasionally invited to share a meal with my students. I comply because I love spending time with my students and also feel like I need to give them as many opportunities in this ten month period to practice their English. After all, I often find that my students learn more from me outside of the classroom than in it. Those meals out are just more English teaching.

My friend also asked how learning Malay was going. I honestly had to tell her that it was not really going anywhere. Though I pick up the occasional word here and there, I did not dedicate the time and effort that I thought I would. Though it is exciting and interesting to pick up a new language and also relieves some of the frustration of not knowing what is happening around oneself, in a small town where I have no anonymity, I ran into a problem. I must have come to the conclusion subconsciously because I needed this aforementioned friend to draw it to my attention. However, going out into the community and trying to intentionally and awkwardly carry on conversations in Malay is not really possible.

Most of my students are very shy. Some, I admit, are also a bit lazy. They do not like to try and do not like to embarrass themselves by speaking English. I mean, I understand. No one likes to be embarrassed. Many of my students would not make the effort to speak English to me if they thought I understood Malay or found out I was trying to learn Malay. They far prefer to teach me Malay than the other way around. Thus, while living in a town where everything and anything gets around (Malays are really excellent gossips as a general rule), speaking Malay is not really an option. So how am I supposed to learn the language? I can’t. Not in any authentic and regular fashion. In other words, because I am dedicated to teaching English, I have given up on one of my aspirations while being in Malaysia.

This sort of sounds like I am bragging about how dedicated I am to teaching English. That is not my intention at all. Honestly, I was rather shocked today to realize that I don’t do anything else besides teach English or do things that have to do with English teaching. Yes, I travel on some weekends to hang out with other ETAs. We talk about teaching and our students though since they encompass such a large portion of our lives. Then those other weekends, again, are English camps.

Is it wrong to be so devoted to teaching English? I mean, you may as well give it your all since you only have ten months. However, I am starting to have to think a little more seriously about my future after my grant here is up. What do I do next? I don’t know. Teaching seems like a good option, but oh what a different teaching experience that will certainly be. Can I do that? Can I go back to having a life outside of being a teacher? I think I should. I think that would be healthy. I need to go back to having a social life outside of school.

Since being in Malaysia, I started to make this mental list of all the things that I want to do when I return home. Most of them are the extra stuff – the less logistical parts of life. I know that I will need a job to pay off my student loans and that I want to go back to graduate school and continue my studies in…something. However, Malaysia has definitely shown me that there is more to life and that moments and opportunities need to be seized if they are available. When you are not a teacher, you are not supposed to use those vacant moments just to hang around and get on the internet. Do something!

Just in case you are curious, here are some of the random (and possibly unrealistic) aspirations I have for when I come home. I really do hope that I do some of them:

- learn a musical instrument (too many people have told me that I look like I play oboe; perhaps I should try it)

- take art classes (cash in on an I-owe-you-a-quilting-class gift and maybe feel some clay between my fingers again)
- travel to see all the friends and family I have missed and love so dearly
- train for and do a triathalon

- volunteer

- help with my dad’s ministry (I have made excuses for FAR too long and have known it deep down)

- study a foreign language

- dance (maybe I will take dance lessons or try those ballet exercise classes or just show up at a swing club, but I want to feel a rhythm and have a dancing partner again since that is actually allowed in the United States. Holding hands is not scandalous.)

- practice my cooking skills (I like being domestic in some fashions, and when I have all cooking equipment I am familiar with at my disposal, I want to use it to the fullest!)

And that’s my fifteen minutes! Have any more ideas about what I should do with my life or where I should do it? Feel free. Being an ETA in Malaysia has made me realize that my formative years are not over yet. I don’t think that’s a bad thing. Do you?

Post 13: The Egg and I

I’m officially on vacation now.

Everyone working in schools in all Malaysia is on vacation thanks to the Ministry of Education. First they gave us Friday off then, what the hey, they gave us Thursday off as well. Of course, my students were thrilled minus the fact that they suddenly had more exams in a span of three days. Everyone was pretty squirrely today up through, of course, a special assembly for Hari Raya Aidilfitri (the big Muslim celebration that follows Ramadhan).

Well, I think I am actually going to have time to relax for the next couple of days. It feels like I’ve forgotten how to do just that after constantly being on the go for months, but the relaxation won’t last too long. MY BROTHER IS COMING ON SATURDAY! I will take the morning bus out of my little town and meet him Kuala Lumpur for yet another adventure to begin. What are we going to do? The plan is climb the tallest mountain in South East Asia: Gunung Kinabalu. With any luck and a lot of determination (and probably buckets of perspiration), we will summit this wannabe fourteener. I’m sure I’ll regret every extra kuih sagu and bit of fried food I’ve consumed over the past several months on the way up.

Speaking of food, I would like to dedicate this blog to another bit of important minutiae of my life here in Malaysia: eggs.

Eggs? Yes, eggs.

I will be the first to admit that I do not like or rather…I did not like eggs. When I was little, I remembered that the only form I found acceptable for eggs was in the coating of the French Toast my father would make on Sunday mornings. I would still reluctantly eat the middle of the French toast though because it was more egg-y than the crust.

As I grew older, I tolerated eggs a little better. I still never ordered them of my own volition. When my family would make our traditional scramble during the holidays or any other family gathering we could use an excuse, I would ask for the mix (potatoes and b***n) before we would mix in the eggs.

Sophomore year of college came around. I still didn’t like to eat eggs. If I had to, I would take a few mouths of scrambled eggs as long as I swallowed them with something else. This was the case on tours in Europe when their continental breakfasts had little to offer a gluten-intolerant human being who didn’t feel like being adventurous in the morning. Granted, I am not that adventurous with food in general. I would also eat the yolks of boiled eggs. Did I seek out eggs though? Obviously, not.

The summer of after the sophomore year of college changed my life. I spent a six-week stint in Indonesia. And man, let me tell you, I ate a lot of eggs while I was there. Indonesians like eggs. They really liked to make me eggs because of their beloved kecap manis. Kecap manis is not a gluten-free sauce that they unabashedly add to just about everything so whenever a meal was provided, the host would usually panic and serve me eggs as an apologetic substitute for the main protein. Politely, I ate them – boiled, sunnyside up, scrambled, and fried. Personally, I enjoyed when they would be a little creative with their scrambled eggs and make them really flat and cut them into strips or use them as a tortilla to wrap around my rice. Even when I could eat the main dish, many dishes in Indonesia are topped with a nice, hard, sunnyside-up egg.

Coming back from Indonesia, I thought I was cured of my disdain for eggs.

I distinctly remember one morning my senior year of college. I thought it would be nice to just scramble two eggs for myself. Just two eggs. I would not make anything to go with them. I prepared them without making the eggs too dry or turning them brown. Not bad. I took one bite. I took two. On the third, my gag reflex suddenly reacted. My body said, “I reject straight egg!” Apparently, eggs and I were still not compatible. Back to the drawing board and making sure eggs were always mixed with things and that the eggs were never EVER runny.

Well, it’s a year after graduating from college. I have long since passed the halfway point of my ETA grant. So how do I feel about eggs?

Let me tell you.

A quote from Julie & Julia: “I thought eggs were going to be greasy and slimy, but it tastes like cheese sauce….yum.”

I have watched that movie several times since being here in Malaysia, and I must say that I agree with Julie. For so long, in my life, I have found eggs greasy or, at the very least, slimy. Runny yolks were absolutely horrifying. However, since coming to Malaysia where everyone loves to leave the yolk runny on top of fried rice, I have found the “cheese sauce” quality of eggs! It brings things together in a creamy and, yes, almost cheesy way. I love that about fried eggs.

Now hold on a second, I still don’t eat eggs plain. I have yet to jump that hurdle. However, I now seek out eggs. I want my fried egg on top of rice. I want a fried egg (over a boiled one) with my nasi lemak (a famous Malaysian dish that has a sweet chili sauce, an egg, and rice steamed in coconut milk). I want telur dadar (their version of an omelet with chilies and onions in it) with my dinner. I like nasi goreng pattaya every day (fried rice in a scrambled egg pocket). My special fried rice that the canteen lady makes for me even has a fried egg on top, and it’s not right when the assistant makes it and fries the egg hard.

What has Malaysia done to me? It has done a lot more than change my taste buds which still miss American fare when dear people from back home don’t send me really expensive boxes full of baking mixes. It’s hard to put into words what Malaysia has done to me at this point. I probably won’t be able to say until I look back on my time here. It is still a good time though despite drudgery and days I just want to fall asleep at my desk in the teachers’ room. I try not to resent all the fried foods that have added five pounds to my midsection and just keep using that stationary bicycle and dragging Patricia along with me. I love spending time with my students outside of school when my schedule allows and throwing away my weekends to do yet another English camp. Life here is fun but hard and different and would not be doable on a long-term basis. Seize the day though, right?

Before I move on, I realized I left out some details on eggs and Malaysia.

Bunga telur. Malaysians like to make these really ornate bouquets of eggs for special ceremonies and ceremonies. The eggs are wrapped in tool and tied to sticks that have fabric flowers on the end. These sticks are then all stabbed into a stand and given away to guests. Sometimes the whole bouquet is given to a person.

Malaysians love all sorts of eggs. I don’t even recognize all of them, but you can go to an egg stand and buy a variety of eggs. Some of the eggs are covered in black. Some have been fermented. Some eggs are small – from little birds. Some are the rich duck eggs. Malaysians like to make their eggs super salty for some dishes. Then there are eggs in korma. How could I have forgotten all these other varieties? How dare I have a post about eggs and leave these details out? Well, now you know.