Recovery

I have a bad habit of writing these depressing blogs when I'm feeling down and leaving them even once things get better. Therefore, it frequently happens that the first thing you see when you log into my blog page is a great indication of how I felt at one point, but rarely an indication of how I am feeling when you actually read it. There are two solutions to this problem. One would be for me to blog more often. I can't say much more about that than "I'm working on it." The second is, if you want to know how I'm feeling, drop me a line. I'm much better (although still not what you'd call "great") about responding to emails than I am about blogging.

The period of numbness I described in my previous post turned out to be fairly transitory, lasting from about ten days before that post to a couple of days afterward. I'm still not sure what caused it, but I can tell you what fixed it.

On Friday the 16th, the Amman International Church, which I am attending more often than not, had its annual Thanksgiving potluck dinner. It's a week early, as far as I can figure out, to allow those people whose families are present to celebrate the holiday privately on the correct day. Even aside from the mountains of good thanksgiving food, it was generally a nice time. There is a great deal of overlap between Whitman Academy and AIC, and so a bunch of my students and coworkers were there and I wasn't forced to pretend a false cordiality with a bunch of people I don't really know. In fact, I spent a lovely time sitting at a table with a bunch of people approximately my own age. All of them happened to be female, which elicited the predicted winks, whistles, and cross-room mouthings of "player!" from my 8th-graders, but all of us took it in stride and even managed to slide in some actual conversation between the far more important business of overeating. Afterward, in keeping with tradition, a bunch of us went outside and waddled bloatedly around chasing an American football in unpredictable directions in the dark (it's getting dark pretty early here).

The week was more or less normal. The only hiccup was that my room was TPed. Now, apparently this is traditional at Whitman, happening to a different teacher every year. It was so traditional, in fact, that another teacher actually witnessed the event and allowed it to continue. I didn't know this, and I didn't take it how it was intended, as a harmless prank. In fact, my reaction was to take it as a personal attack. I was wounded, asking myself what I'd done to merit this kind of treatment. The teacher I mentioned, noticing my reaction, actually cried about it afterward, and the students involved felt terrible. Later in the day, one of them bought me flowers, and they all apologized to me, after which I felt better and things continued.

On Thursday, I had my second thanksgiving dinner in 7 days. This one took place at Michelle Griffin's house (another teacher) and was attended by 2 families and a few other singles (all of them older). We played card games, watched a little TV, and just generally relaxed. I stuffed four plates of food in my face, presided over one guest's first piece of thanksgiving turkey EVER (he's Dutch), and felt great.

The following morning (Friday if you're losing track), I got up ridiculously early to get on a bus and go to Petra. I was accompanied by Sara Kim and Brittany Snyder, teachers with me, and a friend of Sara's named Carrie. We rode the bus for two and a half hours, after which it disgorged our bleary-eyed selves on the outskirts of Petra itself. I've been there before, but let me reiterate: this is absolutely one of the most beautiful, awe-inspiring places on earth. Everyone should try to get here at least once in their lifetime. I stayed in a cheap (but clean) hotel, walked up approximately 2,000 stairs (if I'm exaggerating it's not by much) and back down, rode a horse, lost my glasses and found them again, spent a pile of money I didn't really have, ate some pretty good pizza and a really bad cheeseburger, and most importantly, relaxed. I had no responsibilities and I wasn't surrounded by people who judge my entire culture by my behavior. The companionship was good, the weather was close to perfect, and at this moment I'm as content as I've been since I've been in this country despite the dizzying number of blisters on my feet.

I'm glad I'm here. It's always been true, but right now it's very easy to say it and mean it. I'm doing something I believe in, and in the gaps in it there are a lot of idyllic little interludes as just described. I am beginning to consider seriously whether I should come back next year.

That said, I'm also glad to be going home. I'll be arriving at Minneapolis airport on Dec 17th at 8:06 PM and leaving at 6:32 on December 1st. Drop me a line if you're interested in spending some time during this period. I hope I can get everybody in, because I miss you all. A lot. Even in my happiest moments.