A Whole New World!
Well, I've really been and gone and done it this time! It's just under two weeks since I hit the road and followed the trail into the desert. Wow; it was a complete revelation. The first port of call was the Tilal Liwa Hotel on the edge of the Empty Quarter. If you want a romantic hidaway in the middle of nowhere, this should be your destination. Its is jaw dropping! There is an infinity pool looking out onto the open desert, which stretches away, as far as the eye can see. There are camels galore, sporting various different liveries. They truely hold sway over the rest of the desert inhabitants. If you're travelling the road between the hotel and the nearest city, Madinat Zayed, you'd best be prepared to give way to them when you meet up.
Very un-nerving is the sensation experienced when, sitting outside in the dark hours of the very early morning, ready to witness the sunrise and knowing that there is nothing for hundreds of miles in front of you but sand, only for you to hear the drone of a vehicle aproaching. It could well be a Land Rover-type cruiser, making its solitary way across the deserted expanse. The question being, how the hell do people navigate out here in a place where every thing looks the same? GPS, I hear you shout...the thing is, I have been warned that it doesn't work too well without landmarks. Not sure whether I'm reassured by the fact that ther are some places in which nature still holds sway, or whether to be scared out of my wits.
Shortly after landing in this 'whole new world', I was taken by bus, to the place I would be working in... a small town, Al Mirfa, on the gulf coast about an hour and a half, driving fast, from Madinat Zayed, MZ for short. The air and the light here have a different quality and from the main road it does look as if the sand stretches right to the end of the sea. It's a clean looking place, but with the houses and other buildings which face the front, here and there, showing the usual signs of beach front existence-a little rust and discolouration.
There are a number of schools. I have seen all but one; I have been in two. They all look to me, to be new. The rulers of the UAE have and are investing a lot of money into the education of their people. My school is called Al Shamokh. It is a very spacious and new building, close to the sea front.
I had read on the English Media Teacher page on FB, that I could expect poorly behaved students and a management team that was likely to be hostile. What I was faced with, on my first visit, was three ladies at or around my age, one was the Principal. She did not appear to speak much English, but she was very interested to know about my past experiences and asked a number of questions through the other two. The other two ladies, I was to learn, were a Vice Pricipal, who previously had been Head of the Cycle Two-Key Stage Two, to you and me- and the lady in charge of Arts. I'm not clear yet whether this corresponds to our Arts or is something with a different slant. It appeared obvious to me that all three ladies were very experienced and knowledgeable.
The Principal is very traditional and insists that all staff wear abayas and a shiela or scarf to cover the head and hair. She is also, I am told an Islamic Scholar. From what I can remember, designation of this kind is not easily earned, so I take it that she is very learned! I think, from what I've witnessed so far, that she also has a clear vision of where she wants to go. She was very gracious and certainly welcoming. Businesslike too, she was adamant that she needed my paperwork before I left the office! Good thing I had had the presence of mind to take it with me.
The Vice Principal is a deminuitive lady with a vey strong sense of humour. She was intrigued to learn of my age and experience. As I am new, she informed me, they will give me less than my maximum number of lessons, which is thirty. She then added that next year because I will be fifty-six, she might well expect me to teach that number of lessons a week! After that, she laughed. I liked this lady right away. I think she will be tough and have very high expectations, but I also think she will be fair and very understanding if needed.
The third lady, who has an office in the Cycle Three English block, is more outgoing than the others. I think that she will be tough too. She definitely has the air of someone who is good at the job, but she is very welcoming and friendly. So there, all you FB cynics! The Western Region is not brimming with Emerati Educators, who want to see the back of us. Almost all of the people I am with right now, have told me that they have had positive experiences in their new schools. I can well understand that the Emerati teachers, teaching English in these school would feel threatened by the EMTs. Afterall, they can never offer what we can - natively spoken English - be they ever so hardworking. But then, they do have their advantages, they can speak to the girls in Arabic, to explain points.
Now to talk about the English team in my school: What can I say, they are a very strong team. They work closely together and they have looked after me so well this week. Its a real priveledge to join them and I only hope that I can do them justice. I have a dream ticket!
As for my students, I've spent a week with them; three classes of girls. Two Year Tens and one Year Seven. God help me, I already feel very attached. They are very loveable girls; I never taught better!
So given that I've labelled my new position, a ' dream ticket', have I been content with my lot in the past two weeks? Not on your life. Never before have I experienced a culture shock of the intensity that I've been wading through in the past fortnight. It's the little things which threaten to brake you: The internet connection, in the hotel in the desert was very iffy. In any one skype conversation, Tom and I could be cut off numerous times, every three to five minutes. On the first Thursday here, after having visited school again and then attending a special meeting, I returned to find that I had managed to leave my computer recharger on my desk back in Al Shamookh. I had one hour remaining of the charge. The internet connection that night, was especially poor. Tom and I were being cut of every one to three minutes. Then we had to wait to be reconnected, tipically longer than we managed to speak! All too soon, the battery died and without charger I couldn't talk to Tom any more. This was upsetting because I knew that school was closed for the weekend and that I was moving out the next day. No more internet for the indefinite future. Etisalat reps were turning internet service applications unless they saw an original passport.-ADEC, (Abu Dhabi Education Council) had those and had been very vague about when we could expect them back. Then almost to rub mynose in it, my phone, which was slowly dying on me, refused to send a text to tell Tom that although I was upset, I would be alright. I decided not to scream but to go to bed. Sure enough, next day I had ideas. Blow it! I would buy a spare charger when I went into AD to shop that day. Hang the cost. No sooner had I done this, than I felt much better. Sure enough, I was able to hook up the laptop and squeeze one more conversation out of my internet access at Tilal Liwa. I was almost a happy bunny.
However, following this, I felt as if I was in a living nightmare: although I managed to persuade Etisalat that I should have internet without the benefit showing them my original passport complete with original residency stamp, the technician who installed it mistyped and then wrote my username down incorrectly, so even though I had a connection, I couldn't get on line. Neither could numerous reps trace the fault, it was so ramdom! My phone died on me and refused to restart. The replacement displayed all information in Arabic and since I couldn't read the screen I couldn't find the command to switch to English!
Now don't get me wrong, I have to confess to a secret liking for my abayas. The girls look so graceful in them. Its true, when I also wear the sheila, I feel like one of the nuns from back in my school days, but some of these gowns are really beautifully decorated and they are very very femanine! Nevertheless, you try going up or down a flight of stairs in an abaya, with your scarf slipping off your head and balancing heavy laptop bag, lunch bag, hand bag, and an armful of papers. It's a tall order. And another thing...you know that annoying feeling, when you have a nice top or dress and you slop you tea, coffee or soup on it? Especially when yu're out and cannot change it? Well all I can say is never drip milk down the front of your black abaya and then try to mop up with a tissue!
