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Voila! Here I am, in all my uniformed glory! I tell ya, I never thought in a million years that I'd ever willingly work for an organization or company where uniforms were required. I mean, I worked for a pizza joint back in Paradise when I was a junior in high school (Round Table Pizza, for those of you in-the-know) and I swore up and down that it would be my last. Alas, here I am 10 years later (God, has it been *that* long?!?) and I'm wearing a uniform yet again! More on that later. . . in the mean time, here it is, my place of employment - The National Guard School of English, located on the edge of the ever-expanding suburbs of Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. (Actually, the school is called, "English Language School" in Arabic, but I find that to be so much more drab than saying "School *of* English". . .) Above: the main hallway on the first floor. Classes on the left, window on the right. The school itself is located on the grounds of the National Guard educational-training ground about a 15 minute drive south of the Vinnell Arabia compound. Since the English department has access to three vehicles, we usually all drive into work in the morning and then return to the compound by compact bus in the afternoon. We could all return by car, but that would mean staying at work past 2:30 p.m. to wait for the managers who don't usually return to camp until 3:30, so we English teachers just take the Vinnell bus. (Virtually all companies in Saudi Arabia that have a foreign workforce also hire buses to transport their employees to and from work.) My work hours are from 5:30 a.m. until 2:30 p.m. which means that I usually get out of bed between 4 and 4:30 a.m. and am out the door by 5:10 a.m., and then I'm back home again by 2:45 p.m. When I arrive at work, this is what I see. . . Actually, since it's pitch black outside when I get to work in the morning, I don't really see this sign hanging above the front entryway of the school, but I know it's there, and that's basically the same thing, right? As mentioned, when I arrive at work in the morning it's pitch black outside so I walk down the hallway, key into my classroom, set up my computer, then walk upstairs to sign in, say good morning to the senior manager (American) and check my in-box. Then for the following hour, I usually chum around the teachers' room catching up on whatever school-related business there is, as well as just chitchatting with my fellow coworkers. Then, from 6:30 onward, I return to my classroom to prepare for the day's lesson.
As you can see, classes are 45 minutes each. The students' daily course load consists of four classes for language/grammar/vocabulary instruction, and two classes for the language lab, which stress listening comprehension. Currently there are 4 classes totaling 50 students, which makes our school rather small, but also makes our school particularly nice because the student-teacher ratio is quite low which translates to student-teacher interaction being quite high. (There are seven teachers here and two administrators.) The students who attend our school are all soldiers in the Saudi Arabian National Guard and are enrolled in a 10 month course which, providing they pass, will prepare them for a further 3-9 month training program in the United States with the American military (the first three months are in Texas, and the following 3 to 6 months are at different locations across the country). Since the Americans don't teach in Arabic, the Saudis are at our school to receive a solid foundation in English before departing for the U.S. One of the great aspects of our program here at the National Guard English Language School is that the students have this train-in-America incentive to actually study and pay attention in class. The program itself is free to the students, as is the entire American train-abroad program, and for those students who successfully complete the American program, they return to Saudi Arabia and receive an instant payraise. And believe it or not, money and international travel motivate students! Below: my classroom. . . |
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Thar she be, in all her glory! Ain't she perty? Actually, with those vertical blinds all twisted and contorted, it looks like my classroom was ravaged by an earthquake, but worry not, I have straightened them all out since I took this picture, cleaned up my desk and rearranged the backward-facing chairs to the left. As you can see, the room has individual desks for the students, a teacher's "buro", three chalkboards, and to the far right - yellow cabinets. On the board are my various verb conjugation charts - infinitive, gerund, present, simple past, present perfect, past perfect, and my all-time favorite, yet rare, the future past perfect continuous passive voice (example "he will have been being observed. . ."). To the right of the chalkboard you see a small little announcement board, and to the right of that is the door into the main hallway. As for the classes themselves, the school works on a two-week rotating schedule that means I teach one class for two weeks, then another class for two weeks, and then another, etc. [random side thought: I love democracy.] So anyways. . . there are four classes of students here and as soon as our newly hired teacher arrives at the end of January to replace Mr. Ingram who was canned, then we'll have 5 classes and about 65 students. If all goes according to rumor, there could be up to 90 students here by the middle of 2001 (providing we hire more teachers) so it looks like the current program is on the verge of being expanded. Now, let's just hope they raise all our salaries in the process and don't increase class size, since 12 to 15 students per class is the maximum number one can teach without losing touch with the individuals in the class or reducing attention paid to correcting papers and adding useful comments as well as tutoring students after class, etc. . . One sort-of-nice thing about being at work so early in the morning is that I actually get to see the sunrise every morning, which can be especially beautiful here in Riyadh due to the high amount of dust in the air over the deserts outside the city that refracts the sunlight in every which direction. On particularly beautiful mornings, we English teachers will walk up to the roof of the school (there's a stair well, and you can just walk around up there) and we just chitchat and watch the colors cover the sky. It's especially beautiful when there are thin, whispy clouds strewn across the horizon and lit up like a fiery red sheath off in the distance. Now that it's winter here in Saudi Arabia, sunrise no longer portends an eminent solar meltdown in the afternoon, but back in September we'd be up on the roof thinking, "Oh oh, here it comes." And when it did come during summer, this is what I looked like: As you may have noticed, in most of my pictures I'm wearing sunglasses and a hat. This is because a) the sun here is blinding, and b) the sun here is burning. And since I have sensitive-ish eyes and not so much hair on my head these days, I'd literally be unable to see very well without the eye protection and my poor scalp would be burned to a crisp! Thanks, but no thanks! But I did want to show at least one picture of me without sunglasses, and as you can see, I couldn't see. Note the hat: Banana Republic. When I arrived here I was given a VinnellArabia hat, but to be honest (without wanting too sound snobby) the thing was one of those cheap plasticky hats with a giant gaudy company logo on the front, so I've discretely replaced it with one from my own private collection. After all, a guy's gotta retain a little bit of fashion in life. . . Side thought about the sun here: having lived in Saudi Arabia for the last couple months, I think it's rather apparent why the Arabian desert cultures put such a high price on covering up one's skin - and not only because of religious modestly - but also because if you didn't cover up you'd literally be burned to death, or at a minimum, develop a really nasty case of skin cancer young. In any case, living here constantly reminds me that my blue eyes and fair skin did not originate in region, but rather that my ancestors EVOLVED somewhere much farther north, somewhere much colder, and somewhere much more cloudy. Moving on now to something a little less serious than my own ancestoral evolutionary patterns, today's special inside scoop! As always, what would a webpage of mine be without some totally random and completely unrelated picture and story to finish it off??? Today's academic topic is "international toilet design". So consider yourselves forewarnded: tread forth at your own risk! :-) Actually, since toilets vary in shapes, sizes and designs all around the world, I think it's a rather interesting topic, in some odd kind of way. And since it's something I'm always having to deal with wherever I go, why not share it with all of you?!? You can thank me later. . . Now, for the moment you've all been waiting for: Saudi toilet technology. |
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Here are two fine specimens from work that I thought I'd snap up for your viewing pleasure. As you can see, we've got both the Western style and squatter style. Not that I've necessarily been paying attention, butt, I'd say that in general, the Americans use the Western style, and the Saudis use the squatter. That's a totally unscientific observation, however, so take it for what it's worth! Anyways, first things first: the color on the squatter's porcelain is rust, and not, ahem... Secondly, let me just say that I will *never* understand why countries around the world haven't junked the squatter design yet. . . So let's start with the picture on the right, since it's rather recognizable. Here you have your standard toilet with all the amenities you could ever want, like a water tank, a bowl, and a seat. This model, however, comes with a few choice options that you wouldn't normally expect in a toilet: an air pump flusher (no more rusted and broken interior lever/handle chains!); an oddly shaped low-water basin inside (designed just wrongly and malfunctionally enough to make you ask, "why?"); and most notably of all, the whole set-up comes with a highpowered water spray gun on the left. As a matter of fact, most Saudi toilets come with just such a spray gun. "Why is there a spray gun?" I year some of you asking? Well. . . use your imaginations! When I first got here I thought, "What am I supposed to use this for? Washing dishes???" I figured out quickly thought that that wasn't the case. Basically, when you're done doing whatever it is one does in a rest room, you grab the water gun and clean yourself with a refreshing blast of either boiling hot or freezing cold water (depending upon the season!). You can use the gun in conjunction with toilet paper, or not, but at a minimum, it is expected by the Saudis that you will at least use the water, which for many Westerners takes some getting used to. "Oh that's gross!" I can hear some of you howling right about now. Well, lemme let you in on a common conception many people around the world have regarding Americans, Europeans, etc. When they find out that most Western toilets don't come with soap and/or water, they get really disturbed! "How sick! Westerners don't thuroughly clean themselves after they . . . !!!" And are they wrong? Anyways, you can answer that any way you like. Personally, I think the whole water/soap thing is a massive improvement/addition to Western toilet technology. In practice, though, at least the way the Saudis do it via the spray gun, it can get a bit wet 'n' wild from time to time. When I first arrived here I was a little disturbed by the whole water gun concept and by the fact that there is almost always water all over the toilets in this country, but I've since gotten over it. (Toilets can easily be dried off, after all.) So now I think it's all a good system, although I must admit that I prefer the new Japanese system which uses digital toiletseats with automated selfguiding nozzles that take care of business and then finish you off with a light buffeting of air. Alas, I shan't be choosy. As for the toilet on the left, it belongs to the Evil Family of Squatters which I think should forever be banned from the face of the globe. Unfortunately, those are still exceedingly common here and I try to avoid them at ever turn. In this particular one, though, you'll note that there is no spray gun, but rather, there is something that looks like a flower pot, which I presume is used as a water storage device from which you can then pour water into your hands and then . . . Personally, I'd rather not think about it too much, so how about we just end this spiraling-out-of-control webpage right here and move on the the fourth, and final installment of the series!
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