Amy Adoyzie

In my time abroad I have had tons of WTF moments, like watching children drop trou in the middle of a busy urban area and make a poop right there in front of the busy train station, or when your rickshaw puller gets off his oversized tricycle to push and ram his rickshaw into a car that cut him off- with you inside it.
There are also the awkward moments when you’re discussing with Chinese people about the significance of Tiananmen Square and they have no idea what you speak of or how you have to keep your mouth shut when there’s an election and both candidates for the Prime Minister post are ex-convicts.
Those are the moments where I reacted with a privileged knowing headshake and be thankful for potty-trained children and the well-constructed appearance of democracy.
I love America. Seriously, great effin’ country. Not a single doubt about it.
But today I had one of those WTF moments when I read this story: In Georgia, Segregation Endures on Prom Night.
SRLSY?!
I understand that just because Obama is our president it doesn’t mean that all of the sudden any notion of racism evaporated into the spacious sky and everyone across lands of amber waves of grain and purple mountain majesties hooked elbows and held hands. But knowing, obvious and accepted segregation? In America? In two thousand-effin’-nine?
I know I’ve been gone a while, but did Congress turn Georgia into a theme park? You know, like frontier land? You can go back in time like that ride at Knott’s Berry Farm that take you to prehistoric times with animatronic dinosaurs? Is that what happened to Georgia?

I don’t know where this confidence is born from, but it’s here, stuffed into my 5′2″ frame and jutting out from my beer gut. It isn’t from junior high, when I waited for my boobs to sprout and wondered why I had been cursed with the body of a pre-pubescent boy. I doubt it’s from my freshman year in high school, when my brothers would constantly tap in “55378008″ onto calculators, flip it upside down and shove it in my face to tease me and shout “Boobless!” over and over again.
I’m not sure where it’s from, but it may be because I never really heard my mom say she was fat. During my childhood, my mother, who was still a new immigrant, had heavier concerns than her weight. She and my father had to figure out how to navigate in an entirely foreign country and raise children with English names that they had to learn to pronounce. Mom didn’t have the privilege of being consumed with trendy fashion and trying to fit into them, she was too busy laboring over her industrial Singer sewing machine, churning out garments for 15 cents a piece. Mom was a good mom for many reasons, the least of which was that she never criticized her body in front of me, nor did she ever have negative words for mine.*
I was fortunate to not grow up mired with body issues, and in recent years I have educated myself about how to take care of this body by being mindful of what I put into it and with exercise. Admittedly, I also go through days where my bloated belly and lack of boobage bugs me because they don’t fit into specific types of clothing without making me look like chubby 5th-grader. I let that moment consume me for a second and then it passes and I have to remind myself that the reason there’s so many different types of clothing is because there are so many different body types and I go on my merry way to the sewing machine to make alterations.
It disheartens me when I see beautiful, generous, thinking women disparage their bodies. We speak of education, in cultivating our minds-but we don’t teach girls how to accept and love their skin. We speak ill of our flesh in front of our daughters, our sisters, our mothers and our friends and we send a message that it is normal to hate your body- that the very vessel which carries you through life, and only belongs to you, is something you fight with and not embrace.
What’s it matter if women are liberated, but still chained to unrealistic and Photoshopped notions of beauty? When will we stop abusing it with starvation and trendy diets? When will we bravely and boldly own and laud our bodies as much as we do with our intellect and abilities?

* As I become older and continue to be glaringly unmarried mom has recently commented that I ought to keep my beer gut in check. I think she thinks my slightly protruding belly and tattoos are dealbreakers, little does she know about the intricacies of fetishes.

Another exercise in cathartic release.
Here are things I cannot say even though sometimes I desperately want to spit them out, feeling the words climb from the pit of my stomach, through my pounding heart and out from the back of my throat. Instead, they’ll sit here passively as words on the screen to placate myself.

- You’re a fraud. I see through your forced facade. I oscillate between feeling sorry for you or feeling indifferent about your existence.
- Despite the awkwardness, I’m relieved.
- It is difficult to like you because I do not respect you.
- I was wrong, I’d only wish that you’d admit the same.
- Your courage and sheer will is overwhelming and it breaks my heart that I do not know how to communicate that to you.
- I think of you much more than you know.

Recently I received an e-mail from a prospective volunteer for next year’s program:

I can tell you really love your students and have lived in many places but have had a challenging experience and are looking forward to returning to the states. I’m having a hard time figuring out exactly what has been challenging for you. I’d love to hear your views of the pluses and minuses of the program and learn a little more about your experience. Also,

* Why haven’t you been sleeping?
* Why haven’t you traveled more during the program?
* What are the living conditions and food like?
* What changes do you think will be made to improve the situation next year?

Oh me, oh my.
Yes, I love my students, have lived in areas where children defecate on sidewalks (Huarong) and men pee against walls that have anti-pollution messages painted on them (Chittagong), and I do look forward to going home because I haven’t really been in such a long time.
So, what is it about Bangladesh that is so darn challenging? Plus and minuses?
Plus: Has been one of the most rewarding experiences of my young life.
Minus: Pilot year. Being in the experimental first year has not been easy. Sometimes it feels like an understatement to say that it’s been incredibly disorganized, emotionally and mentally exhausting, an academic circus.
Due to our inaugural year circumstances, we metaphorically built the foundation, put up the walls, framed some windows, installed sinks, tiled the roof and painted the trim. There’s a team of three of us who are working to write a curriculum for the program (it seemed that in the hustle and bustle of setting up a school, there was a slight lack of foresight in that there was no curriculum.)
Now for the specifics:

* Why haven’t you been sleeping?

During the first months it was due to W-O-R-K. If you will please refer to this schedule of an average day during the first term, it shows that I barely had time to use the bathroom. Or the time I tried to multi-task by studying grammar and doing yoga simultaneously. It was a rather unhealthy lifestyle, but I didn’t feel like I had any other choice considering that we’ve been given the responsibility to educate these young women so that they will succeed academically. It’s not just about students, it’s also about their families, their villages, their countries, and development, poverty and gender equality. When that’s hoisted onto one’s naive, under-trained, under-qualified lap- it does a number on your work ethic.
However, the schedule has been more kind as teachers are now only teaching four hours a day (not counting office hours, extra-curricular hours, time spent lesson planning, grading, research, etc.) I suggest trying to get a slot where you only teach one subject so that you don’t need two lesson plans daily. There was a time when I thought five hours of sleep was good. Good news is that I am getting more sleep, contrary to popular belief.

* Why haven’t you traveled more during the program?

W-O-R-K. If you’re coming to Chittagong, expect to work. This isn’t like any other WT placement (I am a former WT China 06-07 vol as well.) Please don’t expect this to be a type of volunteer program where teaching is almost on par with traveling- because you’ll be disappointed. If you take this job seriously, you’ll find that a lot of your non-work hours will be devoted to lesson planning and research. And by the time a three-day weekend rolls around, you’re so exhausted that you’d rather recuperate in sleep rather than try to travel.
I found that it took me about three terms to finally into my groove and I can finally spend my non-working hours not working (what an idea!). For others, it didn’t take them nearly as long, and there are still a few teachers who literally work around the clock still.
We do have term breaks that last a week, and this year we have a two-week break in January. Those are great traveling times, but be warned that it takes about a day to even get out of Bangladesh. (But it’s worth it.)

* What are the living conditions and food like?

The living conditions thus far have been phenomenal. But there was that 8-month block that we lived in the same building as the school and it was rather unhealthy. I won’t take time to describe the place we live in presently because you won’t be living here next year (they’re moving us out so that permanent faculty from the university can enjoy the swankiness.)
And just a few weeks ago, we finally got hot water.
The weather had not effected the school adversely thus far. But in recent years there was some flooding in the big streets surrounding the school. We’ve been lucky that none of the cyclones have hit inland towards Chittagong and that the monsoon only brought strong winds and massive downpours, nothing that would harm you if you stayed indoors. And the summers are hottt, with three Ts. You’ll get used to the pit stains.
The school’s dining hall food leaves a lot to be desired, although its steadily improving. Typically its curried everything and overcooked in oil in addition to staples like rice and roti (flat bread). But it’s easy enough to cook for yourself with the abundant (but not varied) fresh fruit and vegetables available. It may be a little difficult to keep a balanced diet as a vegetarian because of the lack of soy protein. I’m a flexitarian (for me this meant that I was pretty much a vegetarian at home, but will eat chicken and fish if there are no other options) and my mostly-vegetarian diet in the States consisted a lot of fake meats like Tofurky, soy “meats” and such. Be prepared to be flexible if you want to stay healthy.
Speaking of health, the health facilities leave much to be desired… like health facilities. Oh, but I jest. In fact, the Access Academy is located near a strip of medical centers and pharmacies where you can pick up everything (if available) over-the-counter. Since this is the second largest city in Bangladesh, the facilities are suitable for minor illnesses or injuries and there are even nicer hospitals in the capitol, Dhaka. (If you are accepted into the program, you’ll receive a “Living and Teaching” guide which goes much more in depth about the services and medical care available. I’m just not familiar with all of it.)

Addendum: there have been some questions about safety for non-Muslim women in Bangladesh. While Bangladesh, more specifically Chittagong, is more conservative it is still rather safe for non-Muslim women. If you just take the usual precautions of being a foreigner abroad, you’ll be fine. You may encounter a lot of staring (which Bangladeshi Muslim women have to deal with too), beggars and the occasional obnoxious man brazen enough to perform a lewd gesture. Overall, folks won’t bother you much as long as you keep your wits about.

* What changes do you think will be made to improve the situation next year?

I am certain that next year’s program will run a lot smoother than the mis/un-guided path we’ve been treading. For starters, there will be a curriculum in place to lead you through the school year with lesson plans and materials. In addition, there will be syllabi and learning outcomes that clearly define what you are to do in class. There may even be written policies concerning the various aspects of running a school.
Ostensibly, there will be more guidance from your field director and the AUW. By the time next year’s teachers arrive, there should finally be a written statement as to your roles and responsibilities here (we’re lacking this job description presently- hence floundering a bit.)

What’s most interesting about the inquiries that I have received is that none of them ever ask:

This should be the first question you ask. Because, contrary to the popular belief of humanitarian volunteer efforts like this program, the primary concern is in fact not you and how much travel you’ll get to do or how you expanded your worldview or anything you-centric. First and foremost, you are responsible to the students you are educating. Think, really examine your prior work experience, reconsider whether you are qualified to do this. The most successful candidates for positions like this in comparable programs in other countries abroad are 15-25 year veteran educators who either have MAs or PHDs in ESL or Education. The minimum qualifications that are asked of you through this program are, in my opinion, bogus.
(At this juncture, I’d like you to take a moment to scan to your left at the sidebar and scroll to where it says “DISCLAIMER.”)
I believe that the essence of WT is to supplement or enhance established curriculum in an fully-functioning school with a core faculty who will guide and support the vol. That is why its target for volunteers are generally recent college grads (where a background in education is not required) who are looking to expand their international experience (first) and to teach (second). This is fine and dandy in all other WT programs- but is not sustainable for the AA. At this school presently, the WT vols comprise of the entire teaching faculty- it is the only WT program where this situation exists.
This isn’t to say that you won’t be able to succeed with your limited experience, but just be aware that it won’t be a cake walk. Merely being a native English speaker does not an ESL teacher make.
Am I qualified? Nine months ago I was grossly under-qualified. Now? I’m more comfortable as a teacher, but still not sure if I’m truly qualified by standards of any established university (you might need policies and guidelines to figure this out, none of which the Access Academy has). We’re here for 16 months, and I’ve just become comfortable at month eight or so. You only have 12 months, so you do the math. But as I have mentioned above, you won’t face nearly the same truckload of obstacles we had to face, so you’ll fare better in that respect.
Other teachers may disagree with the points I’ve made in this post. They may argue that I’m being hyperbolic of making it out be a much more daunting effort than it is. That’s fine, except that I know for a fact that I am not the lone teacher who has these criticisms of the AA. I refuse to sugarcoat and not mention the weaknesses of this program. Granted that the gravity of our responsibility here makes this into an enriching life experience for all parties involved, from the students to the teachers. You will learn a lot about yourself and the world itself. You will change and grow as a human being. But the growing pains will hurt.
These notes may not even influence your decision and you may float through this program and look back on my words as overstatements, and that would be the best case scenario. I’d rather you e-mail me later and say, “Oh, Amy. I’m doing fantastic! Everyday I wake up with a spring in my step, a lesson perfectly planned and not a single mosquito bite on my face! All of my classes are going beautifully. The things you said about this program were complete distortions from your warped perception and are totally incongruous to my present experience.” I’d love it if I received this e-mail a year from now.
But the truth of the matter is that I may not receive any such message, at which time you can’t say I didn’t tell you so.

Further reading:
Big Bang: Why?
Big Bang: No Idea
Big Bang: How Strong
Big Bang: How Strong (II)
Big Bang: How Strong (III)
Big Bang: For Future Reference (Or Not)
For Future Reference (III)
For Future Reference (II)
For Future Reference (I)
Big Bang: Once Asked FAQ

Is it still an inside joke if the majority of the student body is in on it too?
Without fail, on a daily basis at least one young woman will ask if I’ve had a banana.

It was after dinner, a plate of unsatisfying brownish curried vegetable and dal, when I asked one of the male kitchen staff members for a banana. The day before, Niran and I had an impromptu Bangla lesson while waiting for the elevator.
“Apnar ki kola ache,” she said. Literally translated: You what banana have?
Made sense to me.
I was proud when I was able to communicate my request in Bangla and earned a banana to show for it. I was so satisfied with my practical language usage that I shared it with a class the day after to show that I was also putting effort into learning a language.
“Oh! I used some new Bangla,” I proclaimed, as excited as a four-year-old who had mastered her ABCs.
“What did you say, miss?” they asked.
“It was after dinner and I wanted a kola, so I asked ‘Apnar ki kola ache!’” I beamed, may have even puffed my chest out a bit too.
But before my class could arrange a celebratory parade for me, half of them shook with uncontrollable giggles. I didn’t think my pronunciation was that terrible.
“What?” I asked, “Did I say it wrong?”
“Ma’am,” Sherzi tried to explain between gasps of air. Confused students turned to their chuckling, knowing classmates and they themselves began to heave with laughter.
“What?! What did I say?”
Sherzi tried to compose herself, “The Bangla you said is correct, but not correct.” All of the Bengali students began explaining at once. Apparently, Niran taught me a sentence that, while it was grammatically correct, was mired in connotations that I was unaware of. All I really have to say is, kola ache? (banana have?) and I would have been fine. But in asking if Apnar (you) have a banana, it kinda sorta meant, as my students said, “You didn’t just ask if you have a banana, the meaning is like do you have a banana on your body.”
I nearly fell out of my desk, “I asked the MAN if he had a BANANA ON HIS BODY?”
My class erupted, choking on laughter and wiping tears from the corners of our eyes. It’s amazing how I can be inappropriate even when I don’t mean to (there are many moments when I mean to be.)
Needless to say, I stopped asking for bananas if they aren’t out by the fruit trays and leave empty-handed. Just because I stopped asking doesn’t mean my students have because the Ms. Amy Banana Story have made its rounds.