A Good Day in Middle School

 People often ask me why I like teaching Middle Schoolers, and beyond my standard answers of "they're so much fun" or a lengthier explanation of how they still have enthusiasm for games but can finally think beyond the concrete, I like to give examples of the kinds of lessons that bring me joy. Such as the one last Friday.

My 8th grade History class is currently in the unit on the early Americas. So far we have covered the Olmec and Zapotec (with hints of the Maya and Aztec to come), and one of the earliest, consistent archaeological findings we have from all four of these cultures is the Mesoamerican ballgame. If you've seen the 2000 movie The Road to El Dorado, you may remember the scene in which this game was featured. In the past, this is the Olmec/Zapotec achievement my students have found most interesting, so I decided this year to make a whole lesson out of it.

First, they spent 20 minutes completing a Webquest, in which I gave them links to a couple of sites and videos. They had to read or listen to the information and pick out the answers to 10 questions I had for them on a worksheet. Once they had finished gathering information, they spent the rest of the 20 minutes designing their personal version of the Mesoamerican ballgame. 

Next, I shared with them a version I came up with and brought them out into the hallway where I had set up 2 hula hoops and a rubber ball. In teams of 3, they had 30 seconds to try to score as many points as possible without using their hands or forearms. Honestly, I had no idea how it would go, especially as these particular 8th graders have a reputation of being incredibly competitive. But we had a blast! They cheered for one another, and of course celebrated every one of their own goals.

Following those 15 minutes of play, we returned to the classroom and ended with a discussion on the harsher topic of the Mesoamerican ballgame - whether players were actually sacrificed after a game. And whether those sacrificed players were the losing or the winning team. At one point, when I asked for arguments why some historians believe it could be the winners who were sacrificed, a student raised the idea that sacrifices should be perfect, blameless, the best anyone could offer. Another student chimed in, "Like Jesus was." I practically shouted, "Ooh, yes! Let's talk about THAT for a moment." So we did. And while we could all agree that human sacrifice was a horrendous practice, I think they left the lesson with a slighter higher appreciation for what Jesus accomplished, the most perfect and complete sacrifice in history.

I love Middle School.

Memories of KAZ

The car was barreling down the two-lane highway, mostly in the left lane passing trucks and other taxis heading for the border. I distinctly remember feeling the lack of a seat belt hugging my body and using my hand to brace myself on the back of the driver’s seat, knowing full well that it wouldn’t save me or my friend Jamie from being crushed by the full weight of the vehicle when we crashed. I was imagining my mangled body out among the poppy fields when Jamie nudged my shoulder. “He’s taking a picture of the speedometer now; we’re over 200 km/h.” My prayer life doubled. Honestly, I don’t know if I’ve ever exited a vehicle as quickly as I did that taxi when we arrived at our destination, Jamie hot on my heels.

That wasn’t the only adventure I had with her in our overlapping three months in my favorite Central Asian country. We went hiking in the gorgeous Tien Shan mountains with the destination being a wooden Orthodox monastic site. We had to carry skirts with us to pull over our hiking shorts when we got close so that they’d let us in to view the building. But what was far more interesting was the character we met in the middle of nowhere who has been building himself a bonafide castle for the past two decades and thinks he is about ⅔ of the way there. He gave us a proud tour while we followed the stench of his cigarettes from one dark room to the next, his personal lair decorated with pictures of a certain former Soviet despot. 

Of course, I was really in the country to volunteer at a partner school and teach a couple classes, thus lightening the load of some overworked colleagues at that point in the year. One of those classes was 8th grade Geography. In an effort to broaden young minds and help them think beyond their borders, I assigned a country report that had to be given orally in class along with pictures and details about culture, maybe even food. Sweet Darla (name changed to protect the innocent) chose Lebanon, and I’ll never forget in her presentation when she got to the food portion and announced that she would not be subjecting us to their disgusting food. I was a bit confused as I personally adore Middle Eastern delicacies. She quickly put up a picture of hummus on the screen. “This mash,” she said pointing at it and leaning away, “is made from chicken pee.” I generally try very hard never to laugh at students, but the guffaw was across my lips before I could stop it. “I think you mean chickpeas,” I said with as straight of a face as possible; “it’s a type of bean.” Darla’s face scrunched in confusion. After thinking about this new information for about 2 seconds, she pressed the clicker, and we moved on to Lebanese dress.

It hurt my heart in the last week to watch streets I once traversed empty but for the trucks with men and guns, to see the President’s palace abandoned and charred, to not be able to get through to the friends I still have because power lines had been severed. I knew it as a place of free-flying eagles, of caring old mommas who helped me buy fruit when I couldn’t communicate with the seller, of students eager to clean up their communities, of goats that regularly blocked our drive home but made me laugh every time, and a country God loves very much. Well, at least that part is still true.