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Thursday, November 22, 2012

This Is How We Do It

There was a festive mood at school today, as the ex-pats filled the corridors with Happy Thanksgiving greetings.

The race to the parking lot at the end of the day was colorful to watch.  Gratefully, we were all able to leave early.

This was a different week, and the next one is sure to bring surprises, too.  We celebrate the 41st birthday of the UAE, and boy what a party it's sure to be.

Randomly, this past Tuesday was chosen as Parent/Teacher Conference Day.  The report cards won't go out until January, but the conferences were this week. 

Go figure.

Interestingly, for all of you teachers out there that are used to a sacred block of time to get these meetings done, that is not they way we do it here.

In fact, there were no appointed times for individual Moms to visit, they just all showed up in the classrooms, all at the same time, all wanting to hear how their kids were coming along.  Although we tried to have one at a time go in the classroom, and have the others wait in chairs outside the door, that was an exercise in futility.

This is a bum rush culture, through and through.

What is really intriguing is how concerned the Moms were, not just their child, but others as well.  They expected to get a detailed report on how every student in the class was doing, in addition to their own.

The sense of privacy is foreign here.

I noticed this early on when I went to the doctor.  It didn't take much effort to hear the other patients' concerns who were in rooms around me.  If I spoke the language, I'd really have been in the know.

As I've mentioned before, all the parents expect their child(ten) to get A's, whether they do A work or not.  If they don't get these A's, the fault lies with everyone and everything, except the child.

There was an eye-opening statistic in the paper not long ago, that showed that 80% of the students pass the mandated state-wide tests, but only 12% of the graduating seniors are ready for college.

A total disconnect.

The real question that needs to be asked is "why?"

In spite of these issues, or maybe because of them, this remains a mesmerizing place to be.

Side note - all of the ex-pat kids have to attend private schools.  The government schools like mine, only admit local nationals.  We have a handful of students from Oman, the country next door, but I'm not sure why they get a pass to attend.

Side note 2 - Yesterday, I failed to mention my thanks and gratitude for a dear friend who commented on the "Living With A Drunk" post.  She reminded me that, chances are very good, my father was doing the best he could, given the skill set he possessed. There's a lot of truth to that.  And just recognizing that fact, takes the sting out of the memories.

Thanks to all of you who comment, question, and push back on things I've share. That really makes this fun.

As you gather together with family and friends, be safe, have fun, and somebody out there, eat a slice of sweet potato pie for me . . .

Your blogging buddy




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