Week 1 Aug 20-26

To anyone who is interested:

Hi. Thanks for reading this, I hope this blog/journal/photo log is as entertaining as it is informative as it is honest as it is consistent. Knowing me it will be none of that, especially the consistent part. I’ve never been one for journaling but after becoming addicted to anything produced by Malcolm Gladwell (especially his podcast) I have once again seen the value of written, or in my case read-aloud, word since audiobooks and podcasts are my new fixation. I think this first entry might be a bit all over the place but I hope to look back on this year and remember it with complete clarity. I’m sure I will get busy and the raw emotion and longer paragraphs will turn into short, descriptive

paragraphs with lots of fun pictures. According to Georgia Peterson, I take really weird pictures so I apologize if you agree with her. I think they’re fun and candid.

First, I would like to thank the people who donated their money, thoughts, and prayers. Without all of you, this year would not be possible. Many of you have watched me grow up and become the person I am today. Thank you for your guidance, mentorship, and friendship. Hopefully, I will be able to repay your generosity or at least pass on your blessings to others.

**This paragraph was written a week after arriving**

I wrote the majority of this first post on the plane to Qatar, the peak of my anxiety (which I rarely have). It’s a lot and it’s a little dramatic. These next several paragraphs have a ton of rambling. You can tell I had a lot of nerves and a lot of stress. I romanticized everything a little too much. I thought about editing it down but maybe if you read it you can see how I felt right before getting here.

---

Alright. The week before.

I was up until 5 AM on Sunday 8/20, finishing my photo/ ID book for the class I had just finished. I was home, in Portland TN but still feeling the effects of the last month. This class was a ton of fun as two and a half were spent in Costa Rica. Me, two other guys, thirteen girls and two sponsors, traveled around the country learning about the different plants and animals of Central America. It reminded me of a middle school field trip to Washington DC where you’re really busy and experience a lot of history but you don’t really learn any of it.

Don’t get me wrong, I did learn a lot but it just didn’t feel like it when we had a guide just pointing out what we were looking at. Near the end, we were able to use our skills and I realized I had learned a lot and could start identifying things off the top of my head. Nonetheless, I am thankful for the experience funded by your tithe dollars, the Archie Tonge Education Fund, and all the new Freshmen at SAU putting the school in the black and funding my scholarships. I did my best to pack and hang out with my parents and cats for the rest of Sunday.

Monday I woke up to mow the lawn. As I was eating breakfast I got a text from my principal, Ma’am Dewi (Dewi is her first name). I joined a video call with her and Miss Brenda, the current high school Biology teacher. If you don’t know, the school year for Makarios Christian School in Jakarta Indonesia started all the way back in July. However, they’re on a block semester schedule where they take different classes each quarter. The Indonesian school year is a lot longer than in the US, they only have three weeks of summer break. Anyway, the school was fine with me coming late and Ma’am Dewi originally said I would begin teaching two or three weeks after I arrived in the new block. However, she was wrong. High school Biology was already happening and the teacher, Miss Brenda who doesn’t look much older than me, is leaving next week to get her doctorate in Thailand.

That’s where I come in, ready to teach and take over two days after I land. This news was shocking to me and Miss Brenda quickly went over some of her outlines and Google classroom assignments. With a slight smile and giggle she informed me that all her slides would be in English. She also mentioned that I would want to think about a lab experiment on biotechnology. Sweet, I’ll just whip up what I did last semester in Organic Chemistry II. Maybe we can do a titration or make some NYLON. I must’ve stared blankly at the screen because she suggested that I make yogurt with the students. I mentioned blood type testing, which apparently they did last year, or learning about how COVID tests worked. So, I’ll be teaching Biology to grades 10, 11, and 12 starting monday. I’m not too worried about the material. I’m worried about the lesson plans, the assessments, and taking over from the great Miss Brenda. Im worried that I’m not going to be the excellent American teacher with the great Adventist Education from the mother of Adventist schools, Southern Adventist University. I’m worried I’m going to be incompetent, a let down. That I won’t live up to their expectations and that I’ll bring my family hosting me in Indonesia, the ones that mentioned my name to the principal, the ones that essentially found this sport for me, dishonor and shame. I’ve never been worried about things like this. I’ve always felt that the things I’ve done in the past have prepared me for my future. I don’t feel that way now.

I have to remember that God’s got me and people are generally more gracious than they are judgmental. Normally I would feel like I have time to figure things out. Right now, in this moment as I’m sitting on the plane, I feel like I don’t have time. I wanna be the best teacher, mentor, friend, and ambassador I can be. I feel like I won’t have time to figure out how to do that.

This school is no joke, the kids all have laptops and apparently are very digitally proficient. This school is not like the island ones where they need student missionaries to survive and have taken on hundreds of student missionaries over the years. Those schools know (to my knowledge, ask Makena VonBergen, Jesse Leavelle, or Ian Glenn if that’s true) what works. This school probably knows what works too but they also have full-time teachers. I am not those teachers. Those teachers are professionals and have been doing this job for X amount of years. Even if it’s just one year, they know how the school operates and are familiar with how Indonesia does things, mainly because they’re Indonesian. I think the school had two students come from the States like five years ago but they don’t have a large flow of missionaries coming in and out.

I have taken two education courses both of which have not prepared me for any real teaching. I’m sure my next class would’ve been just what I needed. All the teachers reading this, especially you Uye, you are probably going to receive a call or text crying for help.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m also really excited and still very glad that I am in this position. For example, I can’t wait to get killed in badminton or to cross up some 14-year-olds in basketball. I can’t wait to meet family and experience a culture that is my own but will be completely foreign. It’s just very easy to let those other thoughts creep in and take over.

Side bar, the older Indian gentleman sitting next to me on the plane just started to cuddle my arm and as I moved him off of me he flinched and woke up with his hands up as if he was ready to square up. He also took his shoes off and likes to see how far he can stick his elbows in my arm or side while he eats in probably the messiest way I’ve ever seen an adult eat. He’s probably just mad I got the window seat.

I left my parent's place Monday evening and headed to see friends at Southern. Brian Schlatter and I went to Yellow Deli, our favorite cult-run sandwich shop, for some great food and awkward service. Back on campus I went to Shelly Trinidad’s apartment and hung out with her and Trev Samples. Now the dorm: I walked down the halls, knocked on doors with familiar names on them, and saw friends who thought I had already left for the year. Chidi was gracious enough to let me stay in his room. He’s got an extra bed because he’s an RA. As we got ready for bed, he put on his comfort show, Arthur. The next day, I made the rounds, saying goodbye to friends I will greatly miss this year. The last people I saw, were Marty and Lauren who ironically were the first two people I went into town with Freshman year.

On the way to Calhoun GA, I picked up some Sephora to go with the Nashville barbecue sauce, Buccee’s jerky, and Southern merch that I was bringing to the cousins. Nana had a good ol Maxson meal of choplets and potato salad. Aunty Laura made the trip down and Opa arrived safely from Florida, just in time to say goodbye.

Wednesday was spent collecting all sorts of gadgets from Papa as he had me prepared for every outlet or device charging emergency possible. I said my goodbyes to Chaco and right before leaving for the airport, the UPS truck came with a package we thought wasn’t going to come in time. A little rainbow and answered prayer from God right before leaving. My parents helped me checked my bags. I needed the help because it turns out a backpack is NOT a personal item according to Qatar Airways.

The last goodbye to be said, definitely the hardest one.

On the giant 777, I got the window seat. My friend in the aisle was actually Nick Jonas’ personal security for 6 years and was there for both weddings. The middle seat was occupied by my new, extremely close proximity friend. He likes to hand Nick Jonas Security guy his stuff randomly, drop things on the floor, and take up as much room as possible. His arm is now resting on my leg and all my suspicions are confirmed. I know for a fact that I hate confrontation with strangers. Hey, I’m not used to the way he operates but that’s ok. Nick Jonas security guy and I shared several glances. When we were both up to use the bathroom he chuckled and said “At least I’m not in this by myself.” That made me feel nice. The food is really good. This first post is already way too long. Probably because I have so much time and I want those reading this to understand exactly what’s going through my head right before it all starts. I want to give enough context for the year so that everything else that follows will make sense. Also, Uncle Matt and Aunty Pati Tresinriter told me to mention all the things that were different. Qatar Airways searching my backpack again at the gate was different.

**The rest of this post was written after spending a week in Indonesia**

I landed! Still very stressed and unsure about teaching. With zero conception of time, I deboarded the plane, walking down the stairs like Martin Sheen off Air Force 1. I figured since Qatar was in the Middle East, it would be a dry heat, similar to California. However, I know for a fact this was the worst heat and humidity I have ever experienced. Just walking down the stairs and onto a shuttle bus on the tarmac I lost two pounds to sweat or a kilo now since I’m not in eagle country. I thought it was really strange that an airport as nice as Doha shuttled you a good distance from the plane to the main terminal. It was weird that they didn’t just park at the gate. Regardless, I headed straight to the tour desk to schedule my city tour! The whole process of going through customs took about 35 minutes so they bumped me up to the next tour time. My card got declined at the ATM, I filled my water bottle and loaded the bus with 40 strangers with time to kill in Doha.

The tour was so great! It was about three hours and for the price of $27 USD I got to see the major sites right after sunset. We stopped at each destination for about 5-10 minutes. In that time off the air-conditioned bus, my phone immediately fogged up, causing me to wipe it constantly. The humidity was killer. I would come back to the bus dripping in sweat, having barely exerted myself to grab some pictures.

Doha is unlike any city I’ve ever been to. The tour was from 6:00-9:00 and we barely saw any other cars on the road. The city was definitely built for the future. They have all this infrastructure but no one to fill it. Pastor Steven (my SAU student missions advisor) lived there for several years and he said people start coming out around 9:00 so we must have just missed them. Everything was so well maintained and manicured, every feature of the city had some aspect of design, even the lamp polls. I sat next to a very kind woman from New York traveling to Zanzibar with her friends. Her name is Tiffany. The cars were all black, gray, or white. I’m not sure why. The city is also extremely young and has virtually no history. The country itself has a small history and is small in size, about the same size as Connecticut **laughs in American**

Some of the stops included the Islamic Museum of art, the performance center, a mosque, and others.

Probably the weirdest stop was the camel stop. There was just this big pen of camels on the side of the road. It was unlocked and unmanned. No one was there to feed the camels or guard the door. Just a bunch of camels. Super random. I think I was the only one brave enough to pet them. The first one grunted and groaned as I approached it so I went over to this other, much more friendly one. The final stop was Souq Waqif, a market designed to be traditional. I say designed because the tour guide never said how old this market was. I think that is on purpose because I’m almost certain this market, like everything in this city, was planted. I walked around the market as fast as I could, trying not to get lost and trying to see everything I could in the 25 minutes we were given. On the way back I bought some mochi ice cream because it was hot and it looked like that storefront took card. I also wanted to buy some BREAD crepe Nutella thing. I asked the kind lady if she took USD or card. She did not but she offered to pay for it herself. I was extremely grateful and five minutes late to the bus. I wasn’t the last one so it didn’t really matter.

Back at the airport, it took all of ten minutes to get back through security due to their streamlined process, the lack of people actually flying out of Doha, and these super cool facial recognition cameras. I still had about four hours to kill. I started by looking for a new shirt because I sweat through mine and my change of clothes was now in a checked bag. This task was extremely hard because every single store was designer. I ended up settling on the Fifa store. I grabbed a sick Argentina shirt for $16 and went to find some body wipes and deodorant. This time gave me plenty of time to call my parents and Makena. I grabbed some food, did some lesson planning, and walked to my gate. After being cut in line by about 25 extremely short, elderly Indonesians on the way home from a religious pilgrimage, I boarded the bus that took us on the tarmac to our plane.

The second flight was much less eventful and dramatic. I sat next to Caroline from the University of Maryland. She was headed to Indonesia to study Bahasa Indonesia (the language) in Malang, a city in East Java. I was extremely surprised because she was extremely American-looking. She was nice though and was with about eight other students traveling to study. I landed and Aunty Yolanda picked me up from the airport! This was the first time I had met here since I was four. I do not remember this event happening so I cannot confirm its validity. We drove home where I met Kimberly and Kiara, my kind of cousins. Straight to the mall after that short introduction where I purchased some essentials and we grabbed some delicious grub. The malls here in Jakarta are huge and put every mall in America to shame. The food is amazing and I want to work at a shop in the mall for a week so I can try all the food. It’s also cheap for American standards. The cost for this food was about $4 USD. I do have to remember cost of living is much cheaper so some things that may seem cheap to me are actually on the expensive end for the average citizen. I went home to meet Uncle Erwin and gave them the Southern merch and Nashville BBQ sauce. Melody Mambo and I were right, we should’ve gotten smaller sizes.

I think this first post is long enough. I am extremely grateful for this experience and this opportunity. I will save the first week of school for the second post. Please note that I am in a much better mental state than I was when writing those paragraphs on the plane.