Let's play catch up

Let's play catch up, yes?  After my lengthy stay in Abu Dhabi, I was assigned to a living quarter an hour away from Abu Dhabi on the greenest patch in the Emirate desert - the oasis-town of Al Ain.  It's a modern city, and although it's not as ambitious as Abu Dhabi or Dubai, it bustles with a population of 400,000.  

I can zip around Al Ain in my rental car and feel like I'm in Abu Dhabi or Dubai only without the architectural playfulness and ocean view.  My teaching position is, on the other hand, in Al Wagan - a rural village nestled quietly in an endless patchwork of golden sand dunes.   My one-hour commute from Al Ain to Al Wagan happens on a concrete line that knifes through a sea of sand. It's simultaneously barren and beautiful, spartan and elegant.  

Out my car window on the way from Al Ain to Al Wagan

The school where I teach is called Bin Ham Secondary School.  It's an all boys high school with about 100 students.  I have two separate sets of 12th grade classes.  One class consists almost entirely of immigrant students from around the Arab world who are living in the UAE for one reason or another, and have a descent grasp of the English language. 

They are so respectful and so eager to learn English.  Teaching them is about as difficult as shooting fish in a barrel (as we say in Missouri).  A couple of anectodes to help you understand just how great these kids are: Every time I enter the classroom, they all stand up and say good morning.  They will not sit until I ask them to.  One of the students noticed I was running out of paper about half way through the week, so he brought me a fresh notebook labeled, "To Mr. Adam From Sufian," the very next day.  Below is a video of to-good-to-be-true-crew. 

So my job is perfect right?  Well, let's not get ahead of ourselves.  The other classes are not immigrant students.  They are Emirate nationals who speak no English at all, and while they are wonderful young men they do not exactly go about this whole school business in the same fashion I'm used to seeing it done.  Their histories are rooted in rural beduin culture, so they wander into class late, if at all.  They have difficulty sitting, they are ornery, they are spoiled by their parents, they are loud, they don't care as much about learning etc. etc. 

This little anecdote should help you understand them.  I asked one of the Arabic teachers what the kids liked to do for fun out in Al Wagan, and he answered thusly, "They take their Range Rovers out into the desert and try to flip them on the sand dunes.  I'm not joking," he continued, "That's their hobby.  They race camels and flip expensive vehicles on purpose."

It goes without saying then, that I just love them.  Just the challenge I was looking for.  And as if I needed another reason to love them, a group of them invited me out to their camel farms at the end of our first week so that I could see what makes them tick.

They picked me up after school and chauffeured me, in a caravan of Land Cruisers, deep into the desert to see the camel race track and the camel farms.  Seeing the students in this context helped me understand why it's difficult for them to engage in a classroom setting between four concrete walls.  They are used to open spaces, wild animals, expensive SUVs,  deadline-free days, and being treated like men.

I'm not sure I'll ever teach these guys as they're teaching me, but I can already tell, after only a week, that it's going to be a fun challenge to try.  Stay tuned...