What made me smile today

1. Reading this article on what NOT to include in your resume. Apparently, I'm going to have to change the baby blue paper with teddy bears in the background and remove the attached letter from my mom.

2. Getting a text message from Donia telling me she's in the kitchen, staring at the cookbook, trying to figure out what to cook for the very first time. Initially, her image in the kitchen made me smile, but once I tried to picture the end result, I was giggling uncontrollably. Bless them, they are adorable:)

3. Passing the ice-cream man on the beach as I ran. He's a sweet-looking old Egyptian man, not that I noticed him before he burst out in a raspy but sweet voice "ma timshi ya binti, btorkodi laih! bil ra7ah..bil ra7ah.. tmawwiti nafsek laih??" (slow down girl, slow down, why don't you just walk?). I chuckled and continued running. For a second there, I felt I was back in Cairo. The ease in his voice as he yelled in my direction and the fact that I smiled back had a very distinct cairo-ish feel about it. I love Egyptians.

4. Running past a healthy looking young man, who was taking leisurely strides at the beach and then starting my countdown until he.... comes rushing past me! Happens every time. Apparently having a girl (said with a cringe and accompanied with a generous amount of spit for maximum disgust effect) outrun him is not to be taken lightly. Recovering from wounded egos, guys would almost ALWAYS sprint past me like one of those Kenyan Olympic medalists. This no doubt lasts for a very short interval, just long enough to reclaim his stature as the Alpha male, or at least until he's out of my sight where no doubt he'll collapse gasping for breath. There's a reason I never see them again after they rush past me you know.

Three years ago I may have impulsively burst out something like "You know it would be better for your stamina to maintain a slower pace for a longer time". But now I know better. I realise how crucial this short-lived macho show is for him. Stripping him of that ego-boost would no doubt have unspeakable and lasting damage.

This new found understanding of the knots and bolts of the male psyche, did not come to me naturally I'm afraid. I have a nice friend to thank for that. It was during a gym incident, where I unwittingly bombarded him with such a "wouldn't it be better if you" statement. He was horrified at first, but eventually realised it was really just harmless naivety from my part. He then took it upon himself to deliver a comprehensive explanation of the ins and outs of the male psyche. He even demonstrated a few muscle flexes and other show-offy stunts that guys are likely to pull in the presence of a double X carrying individual.

It was a very eye-opening and enlightening experience. And so when faced with such a situation, I resort to amused giggles. Guys are funny.

5. A sticker ad on the light pole that said that Abu Abdulla has "قراقير" for sale. Now I have absolutely no idea what "qaraqeer" are (heck I'm not even sure I remember it correctly), but if qaraqeer look half as funny as they sound, then I'd be chuckling for sure.

6. Mom: I'm making you baked cheesecake.

Me: *goofy smile followed by a Bingo Dance adaptation: The cheesecake Dance*

This is what made me smile today. What about you?

Kid-less

There are no kids at school (well, unless you count the teachers' infants and toddlers who started showing up to work with their mothers).

The corridors are hauntingly empty, as each teacher is lost in her own classroom among piles of teaching aids to store and classify and declutter. The more you dig in the cabinets, the more clutter seems to come out. Not particularly fun.

Then there's the fact that I feel I've been relocated inside an ice cube. Not having to run around the corridors all day, plus a classroom suddenly devoid of warm student breath, makes it a chilly experience, to say the least. I have a sweatshirt on, which is proving to be quite useless. As I type this, my fingers are getting stiff from the cold and it's becoming increasingly difficult to move them freely around the keyboard. I might have to restrict my letter-usage to only those on the one line I rest my fingers on. I wonder what weird result that would yield. Definitely not one of my brightest ideas. But it's hard to be ingenious when you've got a brain freeze. And no, not because of ice-cream (regretfully).

I also seem to have done something to strain my neck last night, as it's been aching all morning. The problem is from the left side, so I am unable to turn my neck to the left. When an occasion arises where I find myself required to look left, I have to do a whole 270 degree turn. It's entertaining to the bystanders.

Another downside to spending an entire working day cooped up in a freezing classroom alone, is that I'm finding myself continuously hungry. As a result my tupperware contents are diminished early in the school day. Later pangs of hunger sent me searching my classroom for any edibles. Only thing I found was the box of candy I got for the kids a few weeks back (well I did find a box of Rice Crispies that we used at the beginning of the year, but my better judgement told me to avoid it as long as I can). I took a bite of the candy then spit it out. It tastes icky. I can't believe I used to give that to the kids and they used to be excited about it. Poor kids. Note to self: taste the candy beforehand.

I should probably go for a "social tour" around the school, because I'm really getting sick of my classroom. I think I even heard myself have a conversation with myself a while back. Hardly a healthy thing, I daresay.

This will sound crazy, but I wouldn't mind having Abdulaziz drop by for a couple of minutes, you know, to break the mind-numbing monotony of my day. But only for a couple of minutes, because anything longer would have catastrophic effects on all the organizing I've been doing for the last 2 days. Come to think of it, 2 minutes is too much, he can get the destruction job done in 20 seconds if he has to, or 30 seconds if he was to enjoy a comfortable pace.

Meh. I'm hungry again.

مصر أم الدنيا

I like to think that I've made a few wise decisions throughout my life. Going to Egypt to attend my best friend's wedding scores high on that list. I just got back, safe and sound alhmadulillah. I walked into that airplane expecting to have a near death experience, but I was pleasantly surprised. All engines were working and there was actually no delay in both trips. I'm starting to believe that having low or no expectations guarantees customer happiness:)

The past two days were so intense for me, from an emotional perspective that is seems quite unattainable, and almost unethical to try to sum them up in a piece of writing. Writing has always been my outlet, yet suddenly is seems insufficient. I have an urge to burst into a long expressional dance. But I think last night's wedding was a living proof of my inherent and irreversible inability to dance. But more on the wedding later.

Right now I'll describe Cairo, the streets of Cairo, and the bewitching chaos that is Cairo. Cairo streets are dirty, indefinitely crowded, and horrendously chaotic (especially if you're attempting to drive). Clearly not a postcard image. Why then do I find myself completely wooed by it? Cairo streets are pulsating with life, movement, sounds and colors. At least for a "tourist" like me, it was captivating. Cairo never sleeps.


So much so that while out on my first night there with Donia and her fiance, I was just too exhausted at the end of the evening, I just lay on the car's backseat, used the laptop bag as a pillow and hugged Ahmed's just purchased wedding shoebox. I called it a day, but outside toddlers were running wild.

But Cairo wouldn't be half as fascinating without its people. Loud, talkative, extra friendly, downright nosey and with an incorrigible sense of humor, Egyptians put the charm into Cairo.

It was Donia's wedding day and we walked out of her building gate. A few meters away, on the pavement and sitting on old shabby looking stools were two old men (the janitor and nearby mechanic as I later found out). The minute they saw Donia they exclaimed "aih ya gameel, khalas il naharda??? " (hey beautiful, today's the day, eh?). We took a turn and walked past a fruit shop, the owner also exclaimed in excitement "alf alf mabrook lal 3aroosa" (congratulations for the bride!). This went on as we passed shop after shop, each person's face seemed to light up when they saw Donia. She must've gotten a thousand best wishes. That is the Egyptian way.

When we drove in her mom's car into Le Meridian to get he ready for the wedding, the security guy asked us to open the trunk. Donia's mom mentioned casually that it has the "bride's stuff". Instantaneously he returned the keys and started congratulating her and yelled to the door man "let her in, she's a bride!", who instantly raised his hands up to the sky and said "3o2bali ya raaaab" (may I get married soon too!) . That is hardly professional, but that is the Egyptian way.

Who can resist the Egyptian way? I am in love with Cairo. In love with its dirt, in love with its chaos and in love with its people.

But this time around i wasn't a tourist, I was a best friend on a mission. It was my best friend's wedding. Again I find myself overwhelmed and stripped of any eloquence when I try to express my feelings, so I'll adopt a "divide and conquer" approach. Let's begin with the groom, whom I haven't met until 2 days ago. I'll admit to having made a complete fool of myself for the first 10 minutes after he'd arrived at Donia's house. I just couldn't believe that there was a guy in donia's house and is donia's very-soon-to-be husband. I kept coming out of the room, giggling like a 12 year old and rushing back in. Thankfully though, I eventually snapped out of it in time to make a good impression and have him promise that once i get married (we're adopting a hopeful approach) they'll come attend mine. I haven't realised how crucial it was for Ahmed to meet me for him to like me, until I realised what a distorted image he had of me.

Ten seconds after first meeting me:

Ahmed: hmm.. you're much thinner than your pictures.
Me: What pictures?

Then later in the evening, same day. He suddenly blurts out.

Ahmed: You are such a sweet girl, I had a completely different impression from the photos.

Me: seriously, WHAT photos????

Apparently Donia has some hidden photos of a fat evil me that she goes around distributing. How nice. hehe

They were both so cute together. They are just so compatible masha'Allah. They looked so happy together. Ahmed is a very sweet and decent guy and he seems to love her so much. Insha'Allah they will be blessed in their new life.

The wedding was beautiful. They were beautiful. Donia was glowing... I was too happy for words. I don't think I've ever been happier for someone. I've enjoyed every minute of the wedding (and that's saying something for a wedding-hater like myself). I couldn't contain my happiness, I wanted to skip around and yell. I didn't, don't worry.

I of course, could not waste a chance to make a spectacle of myself. You see her dress had a very long tail that seemed to extend behind her forever. I was assigned the duty of lifting it up when she walks, and I was doing such a good job. Then they wanted to go around the tables to shake hands with the guests. This required serious maneuvering between the tables, which I did, albeit not so gracefully. I half-tripped every 2 seconds, skipped on one foot at times to avoid bumping into something. But the grand finale was when her uncle called me and extended his hand to me, I of course extended my right hand, while still grabbing on to the dress with my left. Donia oblivious to my dilemma kept walking and I was yanked back and forth. The guests were very amused. I am hoping and praying that none of this was caught on tape. It is one thing to make a few nearby guests giggle, and another to be the object of ridicule in each wedding-watching family gathering for years and years to come.

Donia was the cutest, most spontaneous bride ever. I mean, 5 minutes before the makeup lady arrived we were both devouring big macs. Speaking of make-up, I sat on the hotel bed, in my pajamas mesmerised while they applied layers of make up. It was all so foreign to me. I of course flatly refused to apply anything and only changed into my clothes when the lady helping donia put on her dress yelled at me to GET READY. scary lady I tell you.

I am home now, and I am still almost breathless of excitement. I can't possibly be any happier for her. I am thankful to have been able to attend her wedding. Her dad was so touched by the gesture that he vowed in front of her entire family that when my wedding day comes and no matter where it is, even if across the Atlantic, he would send her there. Even if for whatever reason her husband doesn't or can't send her, then he will personally make sure she'll be there. That promise was the best gift I could ask for.

Donia on the other hand was sitting in a corner planning what to her obviously is a vacation opportunity worth seizing: "okay do it in the states. no no no wait I want to go to Paris. Well anywhere in Europe really would be okay. Okay so when will I be travelling???? Yalla get married."

She's married. She'll be moving away tomorrow morning, starting their new life together away from home. He has been stationed outside Cairo. Her dad was taking it especially hard. And kept wondering aloud why anyone in his right mind would give away his daughter to a complete stranger. He was so cute. Her only sister will definitely miss her. So will her mom, who has always been more of a friend to Donia. I miss her already, I'll always miss her, but I know that no matter what, I'll always have my best friend. And I know now that if I ever want to see her, all I need to do is get married. Piece of cake!

Hmmm.. Maybe not.

Destination: Cairo

This might be just about the fastest post I've ever written. I'm packed and all set to go. We should leave the house in 15 minutes insha'Allah, so it's tight. I was hoping to sit and write about the colorful mosaic of feelings I'm experiencing... breathtaking excitement, happiness, nostalgia, and a million things more..

I'm going to be the bride's best friend! That's major right? I'm gonna be delegated responsibilities and stuff:) yay! I feel so excited. I just got a message from Donia telling me she's more excited about my arrival than the actual wedding. Usually this is considered a friendly exaggeration, but in the case of Donia, she means every word of it. Man I can't believe we'll be together in a few hours' time. Can a heart literally burst into dance? Cuz mine is just about to:)

I'll be flying Egypt Air and I must say I am significantly worried. And that hilarious sound file some very thoughtful family members made sure I received had quite the effect. I was thrown on the floor laughing at first, but then the hourly panic attacks started. I hope you guys are happy now.
hehe

Just in case I don't make it back, here's a very very quick confession list (the actual list would take a day to finish):

Dalia: you did eat that Fosto2-spit-covered chicken breast. But hey, you're alive and functioning, so lets concentrate on the bright side, shall we?

Oh what do you know, that's the only thing troubling my conscience at the moment. Phew, feels great to get it over with.
I must get going. I won't be blogging for a couple of days, but I should be back on Saturday with a great deal to share:)

And Go Nuts They Did!

I had promised a doughnut party for the winning groups from each class at the end of this semester. And today was delivery!

I provided doughnut boxes that read "Go Nuts" and they lived up to the name. The classroom was a wild wild show!

It took them exactly 2 seconds to burst the 30 or so balloons I (with the help of a couple of boys) had spent the entire morning blowing. You gotta give them credit, they are one heck of an efficient destructive force of nature.

I took a million photos of them eating, jumping, and posing with the goofiest grins. Some of the photos are hilarious and adorable. If I find time I'll upload them in an album and email the link to you guys. After all, you gotta meet Soud and Abdulaziz. Oh and I even caught a rare footage of Ahmed's "Bingo Dance". Still cracks me up.

It was wild I tell you. WILD. As if my classroom was suddenly taken over by a stampede of doughnut-craving tiny monsters:)

*sigh*.... I'm gonna miss them to bits. It's hard to imagine I won't be seeing them any longer.

An Inconvenient Truth

I just returned from watching this documentary, along with Fatima. I have recently discovered, through Mark's blog, that the guys at Cinemagic have been hosting outdoor movie nights every Wednesday. They show award-winning independent films. This week they have started another Documentary night which will take place every Tuesday.

Today they played Al Gore's "An Inconvenient Truth", which illustrates every aspect of global warming in a way that leaves you speechless, awed, and ashamed. He provides irrefutable evidence that sweeps away the empty words of skeptics and those who just can't afford to care. If you've seen it, then you know what I'm talking about. If you haven't, then this should be at the top of your to-do list for this weekend. But we shouldn't just watch it, we should act upon it.

What struck me most is how extensive his knowledge base was, almost equating that of a seasoned scientist in the field. But then again he has travelled far and wide and met with scientists from all over the world for the last 30 years, rendering him an authority and a voice worth listening to in the matter.

Another thing I couldn't help notice was that he was clearly smart. Not that I know anything about politics, but in my own humble opinion, America would've been better off had he won the election. I doubt it would've affected us down at the middle east (except for the fact that he opposes wars from an environmental point of view. At least he does in his documentary.), but America could definitely do with a smart president, and if he walks his talk, then mother earth would've rejoiced as well.

It's definitely worth watching, and reflecting on and hopefully acting upon. Because it's real, and it's happening.

My favorite quote from the documentary has to be:
"It's difficult to make a man understand something when his salary depends on him not understanding it."

Scary truth, no?

Have you seen a lo2tah?

Here's a random piece of information about me for you to ponder: I often find myself in need to use public bathrooms. "Often" here meaning all the time. I don't enjoy it, but you can't exactly be picky when you're out of the house 8 hours straight and have a kidney system of questionable quality. But that's a story for another post, or better yet should be left for the imaginary book I plan to write someday, with its catchy title: "My Search For A Bathroom". It's basically a book where I record my observations and surprisingly interesting and useful skills I've acquired from constant use of public bathrooms. I am quite the authority really, having developed my own personal grading system and able to recommend the best public bathrooms in most parts of town should you ever be in the situation where mother nature is hollering at you.

One golden rule for me is: minimum exposure. You have to be efficient. There's no need to spend a second more than the time you actually need in a bathroom. There's icky, then there's more icky. The more you spend in the bathroom, the higher the risk of ickiness rubbing off on you.

Having said that, you can imagine my stand on "public bathroom socializing". Now it's one thing to engage in friendly conversation a bit with your girlfriends as you hurriedly wash your hands and/or gawk at the mirror after discovering that you've been prancing around for the last hour with chocolate milkshake smothered on your forehead. That's okay. But to actually stand there, or worse, lean against the sink for support as you discuss a millions things, as cozily as if you were in a sleepover, is just a big no no.

Similarly, public bathrooms are not places to make friends. You can nod and even smile at the lady who just walked in if you feel you must, but don't go and ask about her life story. Just don't. At least not when I'm that stranger.

I was washing my hands, you know minding my own business, checking if I was adorned with any markers on any of my visible body parts. This teacher walked in and I smiled. I knew she was a teacher in our school, I often walk past her in the corridors, but that was the extent of my knowledge. And as far as I was concerned, at least for the time being, it should stay at that.

Maybe not.
nameless teacher: So you're a teacher this year?
Me: yep (I figured I'll stick to 3 lettered words and body gestures as long as I can help it)
She: You were an assistant last year?
Me: uh-huh
She: So did you get engaged?

Okaaaaaaaaay. I definitely did not see that coming. As if bathroom conversations were not uncomfortable for me already. But before I could figure out how to respond, she beat me to it. Probably as a response to the look on my face.

She: I'm sorry, I know people must ask you that a lot and it's annoying, I know.

Hmmm. For some reason instead of thinking how rude and nosey she was (as I would normally do), I found myself thinking that she was pretty sweet. The fact that she acknowledged that her remark was annoying made me feel less annoyed, for some weird reason. So I said what the heck be nice, even if you're in the bathroom.

Me: Umm, actually no. But I don't want to right now anyway, I'm going to finish my studies. (I beamed. I couldn't hide my excitement).

She: Oh I see, Allah iywaf2ek. But habibti, you are like my daughter and if you find "3arees lo2tah" (a guy who's quite a catch) then you should definitely go for it. Take it from me.

Me (amused): umm, I'll remember that. But I really want to get my masters. So I'll worry about Mr. lo2tah after that, iza Allah kateb.

That seemed to satisfy her and we moved on to more general issues. By then I had resigned to the fact that I was in lengthly public bathroom chit-chat and even leaned against the sink. At one point, I even asked about her name. She's Ms. Bushra.

As I walked out of the bathroom, I couldn't help but reflect with amusement on the term "3arees lo2tah". This must be the most overused term in the marriage industry (and yes it is an industry). I must've heard it being used a million times, yet I never actually stopped to ponder it. What exactly is a "lo2tah"? I never asked. I guess I figured, once you have to choose, you'll know how to find the lo2tah. I guess I was under the assumption that a 3arees lo2tah can be spotted a mile away, like a guy wearing a bright pink T-shirt in the mall (one could argue that singling out a guy who's wearing pink is no longer a picnic, considering that half the male population here are now proud owners of bubble gum pink shirts. What's up with that????)

But now I'm twenty something, and I must admit that I am not entirely sure as to what qualifies a 3arees as lo2tah. What elevates him from a "just another potential husband" to a "can't-be-turned-down lo2tah". And should I assume that all those girls getting married have successfully pinned down a lo2tah?

I thus plead to you kind people of the blogging world to please share any insights you might have on this matter. What is a "lo2tah" to you? Did you ever have a real life encounter with a lo2tah? what is the opposite of a lo2tah? Is there a reference point for a lo2tah? (George clooney maybe?). And does a lo2tah guy know that he is a lo2tah? And most importantly, what happens if you do turn down a lo2tah? What are your changes of running into another lo2tah?

Okay I'll admit to the fact that I am putting forth those questions mainly for my sheer amusement. But lets not forget that I was advised to put my life on hold should I run into a lo2tah. For that reason, I should at least have a clear idea what a lo2tah is. I mean, what if I give up my life for a lo2tah-wannabe? That can't be good.
One week into marriage: HA gotcha. I'm not a real lo2tah!

What? It could happen.

Leftover pizza tastes better

I'm enjoying a breakfast of left-over pizza as I type this post. This has college days written all over it. That and kitkat bars for lunch. Can you tell I'm looking forward to being a student again? Two years of being partly responsible (and held accountable) for how the next generation turns out to be, is a lot of responsibility. I'm welcoming the short break. For a year at least, my greatest worry would be scoring an A in a course and turning in a legible research paper. Oh yeah.

That is not to say I'll be completely cut off from kids. During my spring semester insha'Allah I'd have practical training in US elementary schools. But even before that, I'm sure I'll get myself involved in something that involves kids. I can't stay away too long. Who else will readily giggle at whatever silly thing I say or do?

Life is funny. I don't remember a single instance during my childhood, teens and even college years where I declared I wanted to be a teacher when asked what I wanted to do with my life. That is to say something since I was one to pride having a "vision" of what I wanted to with the rest of my life. In fact I remember cringing a few times when the word teacher came up in conversation.

Yet now I can't imagine being something else (except working with National Geographic and Greenpeace, which remains to be my ultimate dream, but that could be my retirement plan, no?). As a kid I remember promising my mom that once I work with National Geographic and I'm in a show that's broadcasted, I'd wave to her with a huge cheesy grin and say "Hiii mama". I realise it's a silly childish promise, but I'm not one to forget my promises, even if it compromises my "prestige". Hmm, as a kid I also remember promising to get my dad a white convertible. Look at me giving promises here and there, how precious is that? I must've been one sweet kid, who had enormous dreams for herself. That or a kid who was seriously deluded, depends how you look at it. So mom and dad, I hope you're not holding your breaths, because it might be quite a bit of time before delivery, if you know what I mean.

This is one of the posts where I write for the sole reason of having felt like writing. I don't necessarily have something of substance to share . But one can ask "When do you really?", which is quite a valid question. But it makes me happy. Writing does.. So that's reason enough for me!

Dust Topping

Yesterday morning, I looked out of the window and gasped. I could not see even half a meter ahead. I hoped, prayed, pleaded for it to be fog. But I knew I was kidding myself. It was dust. It was serious merciless dust. The entire country had an extra layer of thick dust on top. Driving was dangerous and flights were cancelled.

As one south-African I recently met put it: "I sent a text to my family telling them how dusty it was. They said they know. I told them they CANNOT POSSIBLY KNOW. The amount of dust I found on my car this morning would roughly equal that which I would find after leaving my car unwashed in the garage for five years. Here, all it took was one night!".

I gulped down every allergy pill I could get my hands on and knew that the wisest decision would be to stay at home today. I ended up spending 90% of the time outside running errands. I was eventually covered with my own thick layer of dust. I'd shower but then I fear it'll turn into mud. It'll be more of a mud bath. But wait, don't they offer that in spas? I'll get it for free. Sweet.

I did a lot of ticket purchasing yesterday and I am significantly poorer. Particularly because of the cross-Atlantic ticket.

Speaking of cross-Atlantic continents, I guess I can share my news now! I've gotten my visa il hamdillah and ticket, so Insha'Allah I'm all set. I'll be starting my master's program next year Insha'Allah in Boston University. It's master's of education in Elementary Education. It's a one year program. I'm very excited, and terrified at the same time. But a good kind of terrified. I'm eager to obtain a strong basis in education since my bachelor is in science (well biology). There is so much to learn and I can't wait. I'm sure there's a more dignified way of controlling kids like Abdulaziz that doesn't involve chasing them around the classroom, and I'm hoping I'll learn about that:) hehe

My program starts this summer (june 25th), and I'm leaving Kuwait on the 22nd, insha'Allah. Last day of school for me here is the 19th, which I guess will be my blog's last day:)

But fear not crazy commenters (that would be Dalia and khokha) I will be starting a new blog, to share and record my bostonian experiences. And I'll be counting on your amusing, but not necessarily sane, comments to keep me chuckling!

It's a new day today, but the dust hasn't budged. It's fascinating to observe really. Of course if you're not preoccupied by fits of sneezes, nursing a burning nose and throat and a clogged windpipe.

Kuwait is in need of some serious dust sweeping.

A Kitcheny Gift

I needed to figure out what to get Donia as a gift. I needed something different, no too bulky to fly with me and something she'd constantly use and remember me when she does! You know, something personal. And no, not that personal.

I went to mom for help, I knew I could count on her fresh and creative ideas. She did not disappoint.

Mom: Mariam come here for a sec.
Me: na3am mama
Mom: I think I got an idea for Donia's gift. You said you wanted something funny, so I was thinking..
Me: oh oh oh I know I know, TOILET PAPER? :D

You should have seen the look she gave me.
Me: Oops. My bad. I mistook you for dalia. It's, um, a private joke. Kindly ignore.

Mom (recovering): Why don't you get her a cookbook! And cute mitts and apron!

I loved the idea. Just what I had in mind. I know for a fact that Donia could definitely use a cookbook. I still laugh when I remember her adventures with her dad in the kitchen when her mom travelled one time. Or back when she visited me 2 years ago. She asked me to teach her my chocolate chip cookies. I thought it would be best to teach her "hands on". So I got all the ingredients and we both spent 2 hours in the kitchen, not because the cookies take that much, but because when we're together it does. She wrote every single thing I did and helped me all through.

Throughout the experience, we even created our own reality TV show called "Otbokh witgawwiz"- basically a fictitious show that takes place in a kitchen and each episode the show host would invite a marriageable girl. This girl has 30 minutes to demonstrate her cooking skills to land herself a husband. Isn't that idea gold? Definitely better than The Bachelorette. Pity no one takes me and Donia seriously. Cuz this could work. I have seen far worst reality shows (not that I watch them, it is against my principals:P) that had audiences flocking like flies on a piece of candy.
But we only did that pilot episode. I don't remember laughing as hard anytime in my life. Here's an excerpt to help you visualise the sanity level (or lack of it thereof):
"wi dilwa2ti bin7ot il sokkar il abyad 3ashan ana 3ayza il 3arees abyad. Ou kaman bin7ot sokkar bonni 3ashan law kan asmar, ma fish mashakel kaman"

Man. Good days, good days. On a second thought, I am glad no one takes us seriously.

Anyway, back to the cookie recipe. So she writes everything down and I am proud of my new promising student. A month later she sends me an email telling me that she tried the recipe but there was a little problem. Okay a big problem. Okay two big problems.
She first forgot to leave space between the cookies on the cookie sheet (allowing space to grow larger when baked), instead placing them directly next to each other. And she over baked them. Big time.
So instead of having individually chewy cookies. She had one huge hard "cookie" of an inedible nature. She of course had to dispose of it. I'm fine with all that. My problem is that when her family complained about the outcome, she didn't own up to it. Instead she faked a puzzled look and said "hmmm... into mish 7ataklooh? ghareebah. Di mariam bti3malo kida bil zabt ou kol il nas byaklooh 3indaha".

Definitely needs a cook book. And a brand new CONSCIENCE to go with it. How dare she smudge my glowing cookie baking reputation. Crazy woman.

And that is how I ended up spending this morning looking for cook books and kitchen stuff. I began with the library and I stumbled upon this book. I was first drawn to the fact that the chef sounded like he was Egyptian, and also because I found him to vaguely resemble my other friend's husband. So I felt like I knew him and could trust his culinary skills (not that my friend's husband cooks or anything! But whatever).
Of course had I been a viewer of TV in general and Arabic satellite channels in particular I would've no doubt have seen his cooking shows and recognized his book. But I didn't. I bought the book purely for the above two reasons. He looked like a nice person and he was Egyptian.

Turns out Chef Osama El Sayed, is adored by millions, not least of which are Egyptians themselves. I was informed so through a phone call with my other Egyptian friend, Samar. I then googled him and turns out it's true. Hey he even cooked for Bill Clinton. Oh and doesn't seem like the type that would mess up his friend's cookie recipe and blame it on his friend. Maybe he'll be good influence.

I still haven't had much success with the apron and mitts, I need them to be cute. I'll try The One store tomorrow maybe, I love their stuff.

Hopefully she'll like her gifts:) They're no toilet paper, but I don't think she's ready for that just yet. Besides, getting her a cookbook and apron would surely ensure me a spot in her husband's good books. Or completely write me off after she "experiments" with the book and blames the outcome on me, the gift provider. Yikes.

CAIRO BABY

Sis: So what will you be wearing to Donia's wedding? I assume no heels?
Me: YA LAHWI I'M GOING TO DONIA'S WEDDING.

Yep. It's official insha'Allah. I've booked my ticket at the end, il hamdillah (special thank yous are due to my awesome dad, auntie and sister! You guys are my favorite people in the whole universe!). Although I have serious suspicions that Egypt Air might just as well be the worst airline on earth? (I mean if their aircraft is anything like their office.... yikes. Bio hazard. Engines call it a day midway.) I voiced my concerns to dad and he very kindly assured me that, well, it is. Gee, thanks dad. hehehehe
But Kuwait Airways' ticket is ridiculously expensive in comparison, and seeing that I am a teacher on a budget, I couldn't afford to be picky!

I'll be arriving insha'Allah on Thursday afternoon and returning Saturday morning. I am SO excited. I'm going to actually see Donia!!!! THAT IS SO COOL. My heart is so full of happiness it might just burst:) Alhamdulillah.

but seriously..
YA LAHWI I'M GOING TO EGYPT.
YA LAHWI I'M SEEING DONIA.
YA LAHWI DONIA IS GETTING MARRIED.

I call this the "ya lahwi syndrome", I only get it whenever Donia is involved:)

Wow.. It's just so amazing. I hear about people getting married all the time, but it's just a totally different feeling when it's your best friend. I'm SO happy for her. May Allah bless them both:)

Seeing that she is so capricious, I had to double check with her. I wasn't going to venture into that Egypt Aircraft unless I absolutely needed to.

(through a text message)
Me: dandoun, I just finished my reservation. YA LAHWI I'M SO HAPPY. akeeeeeed 3orsek il jmo3a 25th? YA LAHWI ra7 titzawwaji! mish adreh asadde2:D

D: mariooooom ana 7amot min il far7a. YA LAHWI. aywa khalas oltillek sadda2eeni 7atgawwiz insha'Allah. ANA MISH MISADDA2A innik gayya, ana 7asib Ahmed wala a3abbaro bas teegi. 3ala fikra Ahmad byikrahek. YA LAHWI 7ATGAWWIZ. yallah ta3ali!!

This girl cracks me up.

I hate Egypt Air

I've been on hold, SINCE YESTERDAY. And I'm not even joking.
The voice of that lady telling me to "please hold" and promising that I will be served soon now makes me wanna kill someone. Preferably her.
On a positive note, I have acquired a new skill. I have now learnt to do everything from typing my lesson plans to brushing my teeth and preparing my latte with a phone on my ear. Granted, my neck has frozen into a permanent tilt no doubt due to a muscle spasm. Not particularly a good thing.

At one point, I became completely oblivious to the presence of the phone, as if it was just another dangling body part. Had anyone at the other end actually started talking to me I would've honestly been startled and probably would've gone blank. But now I know I didn't have to worry about that happening, because they don't seem to have plans of putting my call through anytime this century (yes I am still on hold).

Back to sulking. I need to get in touch with them to get the exact location of their office. I tried finding yesterday based on some "oh I think I saw it there"s and it didn't go well. In fact, it didn't go well AT ALL. Seriously though, how is it humanely possible to have their lines permanently busy even when I call after hours? (Yep, tried that as well). Something smells fishy around here.

And you know what the worst part is? Here I am being all grumpy and yet I cannot entirely enjoy the experience of venting out. Because today as I went up to the middle and high school sections to attend their international day, I happened upon a poster done by the girls quoting Mrs. Nusaiba Al Mutta' (founder of the school and it's philosophy). They drew a girl scrutinizing a zit in front of the mirror.
Underneath it was Mrs. Mutawa's quote:

"It is a sign of great stupidity to ignore all the blessings we enjoy and concentrate on that one single negativity".

Alright alright, I'll stop it. God knows that, even with a temporarily tilted neck, I have so much to be thankful for. Infinitely much.

And I don't particularly enjoy being referred to as stupid. So at least for now, we're putting the stupidity "on hold". Lets hope that I'm as efficient as Egypt Air are in keeping stuff on hold:)

Bride's best friend in a pickle

I usually just ignore any phonecalls and messages I receive after 10 pm. The reason being that I'm usually fast asleep then and even if I do talk to you or read your messages, chances are I will completely have forgotten about it by the next morning. So what's the point right?

It was just shy of 11 pm. yesterday and I was positively exhausted as I untucked my bedsheets, fluffed my pillow and was getting ready to snuggle in bed. My mobile started ringing, but I didn't plan on answering. It'll just rob the sleepiness out of my eyes. I did however take a peek to see who was calling and was faced with a +2 international code, which means it's coming from Egypt. Which means it's Donia. Which means I was most definitely going to take it. Normal rules do not apply to Donia:) This was going to rob me of sleep alright, but it would surely be worth it.

Me: DANDOUUUUUUUUUUN!!!!
D: MARIOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM.
M: KEEFEK?????
D: ana 7atgawwiz ba3d osbo3ain
Me: BTITKHAWWATI? walek 7akaitek abel osboo3 ou olteeli wala 7atta 3al saif akeed!!!
D: aywa bas khalas 7atgawwiz ba3d osbo3ain. Ana iktashaft imbare7
Me: YA LAWHI 7atitjazzawi ba3d osbo3ain!!!!
D: YA LAHWI 7ATGAWWIZ BA3D OSBO3AIN.
Me: 7abeeeeeeeeeebet albi kteeer mabsotalek! Tab shoo 3milti? 3indek fostan?
D: la2
Me: ba3atti kroot?
D: la2 asslo inti awwal wa7da ba2olha. ana ma 3miltesh 7aga bas 7agazt fi otel il naharda.
Me: YA LAHWI 7ATITJAWWAZI BA3D OSBO3AIN
D: YA LAHWI 7ATGAWWIZ BA3D OSBO3AIN

That went on for a while, until the calling card was done.
OH MY GOD. This girl is insane! Of all the things that you can't see coming, YOUR WEDDING DATE shouldn't be one of them. How can she have accidentally "discovered" that her wedding is in 2 weeks a day ago? Man that is SO Donia. I just love that girl.

Her wedding is on Friday the 25th of this month, and I SO WANNA GO. But I'm not sure I'll be able to, I'd still have school then. It is too soon. Man.
Yeah yeah I know I was grunting on about weddings a few posts back, and I still despise weddings but that is DONIA'S wedding at stake! I can't miss that. I have to be with her the night before going "YA LAHWI YOU'RE GETTING MARRIED" every 2 seconds. I didn't even meet her husband-to-be, surely I need to approve of him. Okay maybe not, but that's not the point.

I'm sure things are going to change after she gets married. I doubt we'll be able to keep up our every-other-year reunions. I realise that things will change although I'm not sure exactly how much since she is my first friend that I marry off. But I know that with the exception of my mother and sister there is NO one I would need around on my wedding more than Donia. And so I need to be with her on her wedding too.

Me wants to go to Egypt. Someone please come take over my classes for me. Please? Pretty please? You can have the entire contents of the next Godiva box I receive. Yep, it's that important to me. As I always say, you know it's important when chocolates are at stake:)

I have a green thumb

And only because I spilt the green ink on my hand while refilling the markers. That's a skill I have yet to master.

On the plant front, I'm sad to report, things are yet to take a positive turn. Let me describe a short scene that took place right outside my classroom this morning.

I was standing there, very carefully and lovingly showering the plant with water. I then gently picked up the wilted plant and was figuring a way to keep it upright. I used two plastic rulers from my "lost and found" box, but it wasn't really working. I was whispering a heartfelt "please don't die please don't die" throughout it all.

I was too engrossed in this desperate plant revival mission, I didn't notice her come up to me.

"Honey.. It's dead. You do know that right?" said Miss Sandy gently.
Me: no no no look I put a ruler it'll be okay really. Look at all the water I put.
Miss Sandy: Honey.. you're great with the kids, but I don't think plants are your thing. It's dead. It's been dead for a while.
Me: but.. but I have more rulers. Wait I'll put 4.. and I can get more water?

Hey before you jump at my throat, I'd like to point out that technically it wasn't mine. It's OUTSIDE my classroom and no one explicitly told me that it was my responsibility. Okay so it's right in front of my classroom, meaning I pass by it at least 70 times a day, but in my defense I'm usually running and wouldn't notice a pink cow if it was tap dancing. I think we've already established that I don't notice things easily. They'd have to be wearing stripy red and waving for me to stop and look.

And I can honestly tell you that the plant was not red, stripy or waving.

Note to self: LOOK AT YOUR OWN BANNERS

You'd think that blogging about "Walk the world" and displaying an actual banner about it on my blog, right in my face, would be enough to remind me to go. You'd think.

But coincidences happen, and sometimes they are awesome.

(Over lunch)

Mom: So Loyac sent me a text today about that walk you're going to tomorrow.
Me (still chewing a mouthful): Huh? Walk? what? who?
Mom: That hunger walk you blogged about.
Me (swallowed food too fast. Pain in the chest. Ouch): but that's NEXT WEEK at least. It can't be TOMORROW.

I dropped my fork and ran to the PC. Guess what, it was tomorrow. Man I'm a hopeless case.
Luckily I called my friend and she was on board even though it was such short notice. I was stuck in traffic on the way to her house, so we arrived a bit late and found that people had already started walking and could hardly be seen. But we put on our "Fight Hunger" tshirts and walked all the same. This was an insignificant detail. We were here to walk and that's what wer were going to do. It was a bit humid but we enjoyed it nonetheless. Nothing beats a walk in fresh air with an old friend. When we reached the finish line we hurried to get some ice-cream from Haagen Dazs. I'm not sure that's standard procedure after taking part in a "Fight Hunger" walk. Oh well.

We had to walk back again to the car, which was really fine since we were having a great time. But by the end we were groaning and whining. She had ballerina flats on which are comfortable for walking in the mall I guess but not for exercising. And I had on my new sneakers which I decided to break in today. Again not the smartest choice!

But the children were going to eat, and we had Haagen Dazs, so it's all good.

Little Bits of Success

Success comes in all shapes and sizes. Success for teachers is no different. Some consider it success when their students get high scores, others by how engaged their students seem to be during class. Success for you might be a high evaluation from your supervisor or a thank you letter from a parent. Or it could be a thumbs up from the year principal when you meet in the corridor (Yep. I got that! :D)

While a high evaluation is pretty sweet (speaking of which I did get Excellent in my evaluation for this semester:) Alf il hamdillah!). But I've always been more of a "it's the small things that count" enthusiast. I derive great pleasure and pride from the subtle and not-so-conspicuous.

If my students smile at me in the corridors instead of scurrying by, that's success to me. If while I'm at the playground duty they come up to me and start babbling about a weird (and often disturbing in the case of Abdulaziz) story of their last adventure, that is success to me. Things like that brighten up my day.

But secretly, I believed in my heart that nothing vouches for my success more sincerely than a bunch of kids choosing to hang out in my classroom during recess instead of hurrying down for their ritual running, kicking and potato chips eating. So far it hasn't happened.

Until this morning.
They say, be careful what you wish for it cuz it might juuust come true. Oh how true. I had just finishing substituting for Ms. Sahar and only had 10 minutes to prepare for my next class, so I was stressing. The door opened and four of my boys walked in with their sandwiches. They were here to stay. Ahmed smiled and said: "we just thought we'd drop by".
I grinned, successfully hiding my panic attack. I mean, of ALL the recesses in ALL the weeks, throughout the whole year, why oh why today? Don't you just love Murphy?:)

Oh who am I kidding, I didn't care about my next lesson, I was on cloud number 9! They started babbling on about hilarious things. Then Ahmed told me about the huge incline plane system he built at home, which gave me a great idea. I told them to help themselves with all the boxes that fill my classroom (studying simple machines has turned my classroom into a dump!) to start building their own inclined planes. I provided toys cars for extra pleasure. Instantly, chips bags were tossed aside and they were on it. They loved it.

Soon the time was up, so I left them in class and went down to pick the rest of the kids. When I re-entered the class the boys were no where to be seen. I didn't think about it too much as I was busy manually seating both Abdulla's. I'm going to have to start using scotch tape soon I swear to God. Suddenly the boys started yelling in excitement and surprise. Two boys were hiding under the table and the other two were (very effectively) buried under a huge pile of boxes. I cracked up. I would've never found them. I'm bad at noticing things (Dalia will attest to that only too gladly) as it is, so when my entire attention is focused on discovering WHO IS THROWING THE STUPID ERASERS - it kinda gets harder!

Call me weird, but I choose to share this as my success story, and not a cold lifeless 92.5% on my evaluation paper. But the fact that they chose to "drop by" when they could've been down acting insane and badgering each other (something they derive GREAT pleasure from believe me), totally made my day!

These are the things that make my heart make a "happy happy joy joy" dance. Things like a third grader from a class I substituted for at the very beginning of the year coming up to me in recess yesterday and saying:

Kid: Do you teach English?
Me: nope sweetie. I teach grade 4 science.
Kid: Okay what classes do you teach?
Me: 4A, B, C and D (the kid is in E)
Kid (slapping head in disappointment): ohhh.. then I am not lucky.

The thing is, I'm not half as good as he seems to think I am. And I'm not sure how accurate it is to be called lucky cuz I'll be teaching you next year. But that doesn't really matter. What matters is that he brightened my day. Made my heart skip a beat.

I'm so thankful to Allah. Being appreciated is a blessing. And what a blessing it is.

Ya3ni are you okay????

Okay this is either an extremely cheesy movie or a brilliantly hilarious one (impressively enough, I think it's both!:P).

I personally found it excessively comical and enjoyed a good 3 minutes of uninterrupted side-splitting laughter. But I just got back from school and I'm usually a tad extra crazy then. So feel free not to contribute to the chuckles. Gosh, I'm still giggling. Those Muslims in North America are completely out of it, I tell you.

Bless them, they make me laugh.

You gotta love google

I just finished writing my "very first resignation letter". On my very own.
I feel so important! My pride right now is only matched by that one time in Sabilah when I had to sew on my pants button. I was literally jumping around parading my "accomplishment" (yeah. I have pretty low standards). I could hardly contain my happiness and pride. Is that how the person who invented peanut butter felt? It must be.

I couldn't have done my letter today without the aid of dear ol' Google. I wonder how people used to do their "very first" anything without the gem of a creation called Internet and Google. On the other hand, that's not necessarily always a good thing. I still can't forget the look Dalia and I had when we tried to search for something and started typing "how to..." then we got a list of previously searched questions, the first of which was "How to dispose of a dead body".

And yes bro, I STILL don't wanna know.

Semi-profound Posts Hiatus

Just a mere couple of months ago running had been my muse; my writing inspiration. It would mostly be during those 45 minutes of refreshing hippity hop that my brain enters that tranquil reflective mode, where my semi-deep writing ideas are free to blossom (and yes they do exist thank you very much. You just have to look for them. Real hard.)

Sadly, I can no longer say that. Today's run made it clear that those days are over. Running has become a struggle for life. A near death experience, if you will. Welcome to the unforgiving summer of Kuwait.

What chance do my semi-profound thoughts stand in the face of hot scorching sun? (And it was only 7 am.!!). A opened can of Whiskas in front of my big fat cat has more of a chance of survival. Okay that's a lie. They are both doomed. Chances of survival: Zilch.

And so where once my thoughts were free to wander far back in nostalgia, fast-forward in the speed of light, or simply immerse in the present, they were now abruptly downgraded to that of pitiful pleas and heart-shattering agony.

These were some the thoughts clouding my mind as I ventured a run this morning....

"Ya Allaaaahh.. this is hot... okay you can do it, you've already been running.... (check my stop watch) JUST 6 MINUTES. CRAP"

To get my mind off things and maintain a steady rhythm, I had to devise a 4-step chant, which was painfully appropriate:

DE- HY- DRA- TION
DE- HY- DRA- TION
DE- HY- DRA- TION

Then hallucinations took over:
"Water.. I need water... I want mommy... water... I need water... biddi mamaaaaaa"
Suddenly I noticed that I was running towards a water fountain. Aaah, the relief. I practically hugged the water fountain as I gulped a mouthful of.... BFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF (me spitting water all around). IT WAS BOILING HOT. I have sustained second degree burns. Not pletty, not pletty at all.

The car was too far and my pace was so slow that at times it felt I was marching in place. A heatsroke was looming in the distance, I could tell. But the knowledge of icy cold water in my car kept me going. Never has a sight of a car brought forth such joy to my heart.

Apart from a burnt tongue and palate, slight dizziness and a brain devoid of even remotely-deep thoughts, I am still alive and partly functioning (I was never completely functioning to begin with). Just don't expect anything deep from this part of the blogging world. Unless I unearth a new source of inspiration. Please do share in case you've got any recommendations. Just keep in mind that I can't stomach marshmallows and can't keep a tune to save my life (as a matter of fact I do realise the oddness of my last sentence. I blame it on sun-induced hallucinations).

Which, I reiterate, is not pletty. Not pletty at all.

Correspondently challenged

I like to think I make a good friend when I'm around. But it stops at that. When we enter the morbid zone of "long distance" friendship, I become despicable. I promise to email, but rarely ever do. We could chat from time to time when fate deems we meet online. I would text message only in reply, rarely initiating one myself. There will be times when I won't even answer texts. I'd keep putting it off until it eventually slips my mind. Like I said, absolutely despicable. I just do not possess that gene that makes me a good "stay in touch" friend. I miss my friends terribly and painfully, yet it manifests itself only in the form of a depression, and yet do little to stay in touch. I baffle even myself.

How do my friends react? It varies. A portion of them decide that I'm worthless scum and delete me from their phone book or rename me: "worthless scum"(okay I'm spicing it up a bit ,but there's some truth to it). Some enter a vicious circle of hating me, forgiving me, loving me, hating me, forgiving me, loving me, ad infinitum. They haven't learnt to adjust their expectations of me yet. I'm hoping they will, eventually.

Others, would get upset with me at first. But after we reunite again, and they see how I'm still the same loving friend who heartily admits to being a lousy correspondent and apologizes profusely, and swears by the fatty layers around her fat cat's tummy that they've been on my mind all the time, they come to terms with the truth. I love them to bits but I'm just a plain lousy stay-in-touch person. I'm not proud of it, but at least I'm not in denial. I am openly owning up to it, and if that isn't big of me, then... oh who are we kiddin it is big of me:P

The third category constitutes my dearest friend in the whole wide world, Donia. We are scarily similar in a lot of things (scary in the sense that one would think that ONE person like me in the universe is more than enough) This being no different, she happens to be just as lousy a correspondent as I am. So it works well. And yet our friendship is preserved beautifully. There are times when we'd literally be sending emails daily and cracking each other up, but it doesn't last too long (but when it does, boy I get stomach cramps from all the chuckling). We also make it a point to have a reunion every once in a while. All it takes is an extra long hug and an all nighter of babbling about the entire events of the past 2 years and it feels as if we've only been apart for a day. All has been taken care of.

But every now and then I get sudden pangs of guilt and I go into "mass emailing, texting and calling mode". I suddenly get a panic "OMG I'M GONNA DIE FRIENDLESS" attack and rush to make amends. Yesterday was one of those days. I went and invested in some calling cards. There were so many calls I sincerely meant to make ages ago but never got around to it, not (I swear) for lack of sincere wanting. But because as mentioned above I am a hopeless case.

My first call had to be to my best friend back in college who is now in the midst of her medical school final exams! She was evidently (do you blame her?) surprised but utterly thrilled to receive my supportive phone call. I mean lets face it, this is the same friend who, as a very last resort, gave me a plant to fly home with me (yes I carried it along with me on the plane). She made me promise to send her a text message every time I watered the plant, which was every, umm, I'm not sure anymore. What did I do? I killed the poor thing. Well if you must know, that's another area I suck at. I'll adopt and raise all the animals you want. But no plant can survive with me. Its like I suck the green out of them. I didn't exactly send her a "She'd dead" message, but I guess she eventually found out, from the lack of messages that is. Yet she still calls me her friend. I wouldn't still call me a friend!!

Then I had to call Jumana and Hanna, my two awesome buddies from Sabila days. They were getting engaged!! I've been putting off sending them emails or messages congratulating them for so long that nothing less than a phone call would've sufficed.
I tried to call a couple of other friends, but couldn't reach them. I'll have to call them again.

The point is, during this most recent friend-related panic attack I have made a mid-year resolution. This cannot go on. I mean, for crying out loud I claim to support Greenpeace and can't keep a plant alive for a day. I know what you're thinking, I should take a gardening course? I think not. I have a better chance sending emails. So I am going to make a fabulous transformation from an utter hopeless case to a KICK ASS correspondent! Just watch me.

So, my friends out there (who I seriously doubt even know this blog exists), empty your mailbox cuz you're in for some serious flooding!
This weekend is going to be dedicated entirely for email. Next weekend at the latest. Yep definitely around that time. More or less. Does this post count as staying in touch? Cuz I think it should. No?

It's Wednesday Oh Yeah

Yesterday Ahmed performed a very entertaining "Bingo Dance" that sent me chuckling even though it was the end of a very long and hard day and I had decided on cutting the supply of smiles and laughs for the day. But I didn't anticipate the "Bingo Dance". One cannot maintain a frown in the presence of THE bingo dance, take my word for it.

In fact, I was inspired by it to such an extent that today I have, with permission, adopted the dance with few alterations and coined it "The Wednesday Dance"!

It's Wednesday, Oh yeah!
It's Wednesday, Oh yeah!

(To fully appreciate it's hilariousness you must observe the weird combination of hand, body and face gestures, which are totally lost in a blog post-which is prolly for the best.)

It's Wednesday, Oh yeah!

Broken Brooms, Toe squishing, heels, n more!

The boys just loved the game. It involved mom's beloved broom, a nameless stick, rope, three boys and a lot of pulling. But a broom can only take so much. After being used and abused in each and every grade 4 science class, it finally cracked. Right in front of us all, it snapped in half.

I gasped: MOM IS GOING TO KILL ME.

Now although I knew mom was going to feel saddened at her loss (the two seemed to have a weirdly strong, yet endearing connection), I was obviously exaggerating. I mean, I like to think that if she had to choose between me and her broom, she'd eventually decide on me. I hope.

But the kids seemed to take it to heart. A couple of them offered I stay at their place for a while, you know, until it was safe to return home. Another kid ran to the broom, searched for the price sticker, then happily informed me of the name of the supermarket, its affordable price, and suggested I pick one up on my way home.

The rest, however, were finding it extremely difficult to suppress their guffaws. Abdulaziz on the other hand, was fervently pleading I announce him new owner of the said snapped-in-half broom. Goodness knows for what. You know what, I really don't wanna know.

On a more positive note, I have discovered today the joy of leaping about the school hallways. I mean, running around the corridors has been my thing since day one. And while the hall ceilings are often filled with dangling bright decorations that prove irresistible to my boys, they did little to tempt me so far. But as I walked out of class today, hurrying to report to my playground duty, I was feeling a little more bubbly than usual. I unconsciously sprang up and managed to touch the light. The first thought to cross my mind? BOY is that fun or WHAT. There was no stopping me!

Suddenly, not only could I forgive my students for leaping circles around me in the hallways, I was competing with them neck-to-neck in this highly entertaining pastime. I just wish I had discovered this fountain of joy earlier. No matter, you can count on me making the best of what's left of the school year. Even better, in two weeks there would be no kids anymore. So those long wide corridors will be mine to conquer. Oh don't worry, the teachers already found peace with the fact that I'm incorrigibly, umm, weird?

Guess what. I just found out that the boys step on my feet an AWEFUL lot. I never noticed before. But yesterday I was wearing fairly new shoes that I didn't particularly want ruined, so I was more sensitive to any sudden painful strikes. You cannot imagine the rate of toe-squashing I suffer through on an average school day. Seriously, this can't be right. Those things must be included in your job description!! I've half a mind to blame the kids for my not-exactly-narrow feet. Lets just say they aren't improving on the situation!!

Moving on. I went shoe shopping with mom today. I needed to buy some comfy shoes. But all I found where glittery strapy shiny 5-inches long sandals that unconsciously made me cringe in pain at the mere sight of them. Seriously, women of the world, why oh why do you do that to yourselves?

I just got a sudden flashback of the one and only time I ventured to wear heels. Never again. Nope. Not me. It was for our high school graduation party. My dress was a bit long, so I thought what the heck I'll get heels. To make a painful and agonizingly torturous story short, at the end of the party I found myself on a chair outside the bathroom, with my heels kicked off cursing the hour I bought those devils. I wasn't alone.
My mobile rang and it was my dad telling me he was outside in the parking lot waiting for me. I called on every ounce of willpower I possessed and tried to slip them back in. I squealed in pain. Let's face it, it just wasn't going to happen.

And that is how I found myself, striding through the lobby of the Holiday Inn, bare-footed with my sandals in hands. I avoided eye-contact with the bellboy as I made my way to dad's car, still barefooted. I wasn't coming back here until I was 50, that was for sure.

A few months after that, I heard it closed down. I like to think I had something to do with their demise. I mean, barefooted guests prancing around in your lobby has to score high on the "Signs Your Five-Star Hotel is In for a Dip" list, no?

And that, my friends, is the history behind my not-so-discreet disdain for heels. Can you blame me?

Ethical Question

The following is a *hypothetical* situation:

Lets say a boy shows up to class after recess still carrying his bag of chocolate-filled biscuits. His teacher, bless her, asks him in the sweetest of ways to PLEASE PUT IT AWAY. Five minutes later, he's still slyly munching on them. The teacher has no choice but to confiscate the lot. The lesson is over, the boy leaves, no one really remembers the bag of soft chocolate filled biscuits that's tossed aside. A few hours later, the teacher is finally done with her lessons for the day. She chaperones the last batch of boys to their next lesson then rushes to her classroom and collapses on the floor. She is exhausted, drained and suffering from SERIOUS sugar depletion. She suddenly notices the bag of soft chewy goowy chocolate filled mini biscuits tossed on the side, abandoned, unloved, and unappreciated. She could swear she heard it call out to her in a soft hissing sound "munch usssssss" (but again that could easily be a side effect for the sugar-depletion-induced hallucinations:P).

I guess my questions is: To munch or not to munch?

Oh and if you could get back to me quickly, I'd really appreciate it. My will power can only stand so much.
Erm, I mean hypothetically speaking, of course.

Slap Her, She's French

I just finished watching a movie by this name for no real reason except that it happened to be on and I happened to need to chill for an hour and a half before getting back to the grind. I was in the mood for something silly and it did not disappoint. If anything, it was too silly, but I'm not complaining. Later, when mom asked me how the movie was, I found myself saying: Well, there was a lot of slapping.
And yeah there was. What do you know, violence is making its way even in those pointless silly movies. And suddenly I have an inexplicable urge to slap something. Okay maybe not too inexplicable.

This daily "chill time" of mine is what's been keeping me sane. It starts the minute I enter the house, hug mom, toss my 10++ kilo load off my aching shoulders, change and sit with mom on the lunch table. There would be a HUGE bowl of salady goodness waiting for me. Fresh, cold, crunchy and with an extra sour lemony dressing to make my taste buds go "Hallelujah". I love anything and everything that has lemon in it. Completely and utterly dig it. Not sure it's a good thing though, since during my last visit to the dentist she told me (after a long dreaded pause as she stared intently at the contents of my mouth): "Do you like lemon?"

Back to lunch. So its a salad then a nice hot meal, as my mom and I exchange the highlights of our mornings and noons. Her adventures at our next door supermarket never fail to throw me into fits of giggles. Although her "interesting" news (carefully handpicked from our local paper) unfortunately do not carry the same effect. You don't wanna know. On my part, I spill out whatever anecdotes I have from my day at school. Every now and then, one of us would say something really deep (okay okay so it's always mom who does, not for lack of trying from my part:P).

Once lunch is over, I pounce on the couch, grab the throw, complain about living in the north pole, then turn on the tube to see what's on. At that point, my standards are very low. It just has to be light, funny, and silly. Nothing depressing. Once in a while, usually after an exceptionally mentally stimulating lunch conversation, I'd choose to watch something worthwhile on Discovery or the History channel.

Once my chill time is over, I feel energized and can actually see myself reuniting with my piles of teacher editions and dear old PC. And I usually do. Except of course when I start blogging instead. Not unlike this very moment. Yikes.

I must admit though, whenever I'm snuggled on the couch, relaxed and having a laugh, I can't but feel a tad guilty as I imagine what the majority of the other teachers at school are probably doing. Cooking? Washing dishes? Refereeing a fight between two of their kids? Helping them with homework? Tidying the house? Trying to have an actual meaningful conversation with their husbands? Catching up on the piles of overdue school work? Having a nervous breakdown from all the pressure?

I get overwhelmed at the thought. Those mothers/wives/teachers are heroes. I get hyperventilation and exhaustion fits from the mere thought. How am I ever going to be able to do that? Scary thoughts I tell you. But they usually only last as long as it takes for me to perfect the angle of all the cushions, make sure the blanket covers my toes so I don't lose them to frostbites, and watch something like "Slap Her She's French". Works likes a charm.

What you never thought tongs could do!

Mom (as she watched me empty the contents of yet another kitchen cabinet): habeebti.. I think we've reached the point where it would really be much easier if you bring your kids here to see the stuff. You've emptied the whole house!!

For the last few days mom has been seriously worrying on whether she'll reunite with her things ever again. So much so that she demanded I make a checklist that is closely monitored by her for accuracy. She made it quite clear that if anything goes missing or breaking, I'm in deeeep trouble. I knew better than to think she was kidding. And on my part, I was only too glad to convey the message (with minor alteration) to the kids.

"Listen up class. Each group has examples of machines. Now the radio, video and computer are the school's property. So if you wreck those, you'll have to pay for it. As for everything else, it's my mom's. She likes her stuff. If anything happens to it, she is gonna come to school and find you."

They all burst out in giggles. Apparently, they found it more funny than scary. You can tell they do not appreciate the sacred relationship between a woman and her kitchen utensils. They have a lot to learn!

"Miss Mariam! Is this toy car you're mom's?"

"No, it's my brother's. He's 4 times as tall as you are. If you break it, he'll come and squash you."

Again, waves of giggles (myself included) as we all imagined Abdulraheem being squashed flat by my bro like in the cartoons.

"Miss Mariam what is this?"
I was just about to explain that this is what they use to decorate the "ka3ek Eid" (Eid cookies) but Ahmed was faster:
"I know I know! This is that thing they use to remove nose hair"
"Oh my God look at the size of THIS ONE (pointing to a salad tong). You need to have a HUGE nose to use this one!!"

Aaaaand, my daily laughter dose is thus complete:)

Kids To Remember

The countdown is starting.. Two years here are almost coming to a close:) children-packed years that is. During those years, I have heard a zillion adorable anecdotes, tied a hundred shoelaces, wiped a few tears, got a million hugs, and joined in uninhibited fits of giggling.
I have also chased a dozen boys around school, gawked at the amount of chips an average 9-year-old consumes in a single 20-minute-recess, and swore I'd dangle a few kids down my classroom ceiling (and unsuccessfully attempted to once:P).

There are so many memories close to my heart that I wish to guard and always remember. And yet these things are easily forgotten day by day. That's why I am now infinitely glad that I've decided to record my experiences this year on this blog. I'd like to think that one day I'll be sitting reading them and remembering some of the joy (oh and PAIN:P) that filled my early days as a teacher.

Although I can honestly say that I sincerely loved each and every kid I taught through tout those two years (oh yes that includes you Abdulaziz!) there are a few kids that have touched my heart in a special way just by being. These are the kids I'll constantly remember and in a few years wonder what has become of them. Those are the kids I'll wish I would someday run into and get overwhelmed and choked up by how big they've become. Those are the faces that'll stay fresh in my memory even when I'm 99 and can't remember what a chocolate chip cookie looks like (Gosh I hope I don't ever reach this point:P). These are the kids that made my heart leap, my lips smile and my face light up.. Bless them!

Dalal:
6-year-old girls don't come any cuter. If you thinks kids can't possibly be cute, incorrigibly polite, super smart, gentle, considerate, plain-old ADORABLE, gifted, sweeeeeeeet and with eyes that literally sparkle all at the same time, then you have got to meet Dalal.

Mohammed M. (4B):
I can only say one thing: BLESS him. May Allah protect this kid from all harm and yij3alo qorrat 3ayn la ahlo.
Lets face it. Every kid has his own thing. Some are really bright, some are musically talented, some have poor academic performance but are superb athletes. Some stand out by how polite they are. Some by how easily they make friends. Some by their good breeding. Some by their beauty. Some are just so cute they don't need anything else to work for them.

But what are the chances you get a kid who has it all? Mash'Allah this kid does. He is one of the brightest kids I've ever met. He's an A+ student without even trying. He's impeccably well bred, super friendly and loved by everyone. He is gifted in each and every sport (the Kong Fu show he performed with the Kung Fu master during sports day had my jaw drop for 30 minutes afterwards. Masha'Allah). His recitation of the Quran shivers your heart and revives your soul. He wins every Quran memorization and recitation competition he enters. He is a natural in everything. Masha'Allah. May Allah bless and protect him. I think it's safe to expect great things from him. May Allah guide him.

Abdulaziz (4A):
Compared to him, all kids are hypo-active sloths. He's disaster in the making. He is literally too much for anyone to handle. I don't even know how the squirt managed to make me absolutely love him:) But I will never forget how EXCITED he is when there's anything about dinosaurs. How stone-still he sits when we're reading/watching something about them. The two extremes fascinate me... I will certainly have a hard time forgetting him!:)

Nasser (4A):
Simply a big fat chunk of sweetness (actually he's very thin, but you get the point:P)

Soud (4C):
I have never met such a goal-oriented person with unwavering determination and faultless blockage of any external distractions in my whole life, let alone a KID. He puts adults to shame!!

Ahmed (4B):
Cutest, biggest, goofiest smile ever. You cannot but return it with a huger one!

Ahmed (4C):
His mom says I'm his favorite teacher, if that's not enough to make him score high on my list, then what does?;)

Mohammed (4B):
He is SO DARN CUTE I wanna cry!!! You just wanna squeeze him into a tiny ball of cuteness and stuff him in your pocket.

Egyptian Kids

I realise that this is actually a general category as opposed to a certain kid. But that's how it is. Egyptian kids are a different breed. They deserve to be classified as a separate, unique, category worthy of admiration and awe.

Man I simply ADORE them. I cannot get over how shockingly blunt, outspoken and confident they are. A mere 6-year-old can run circles around you. Literally.
I remember when I stayed over at my Egyptian friend's place in Cairo a few years back. I met her family and every time I had an encounter with a 5 year old Egyptian kid, I was left in complete and utter awe. HOW do they make them this way? Any attempts of mine to describe them will fall pitifully short of the reality. You'll have to sit face to face with a dark skinned, thick and curly-haired Egyptian kid with wide brown eyes that sparkle in a way only an Egyptian kid's eyes can. Only then will you know what I'm talking about. Think the most OUTRAGEOUSLY witty and talkative kid on Bill Cosby's "Kids say the darndest things", multiply it by a thousand, and you'll get what I'm talking about.

I simply adore Egyptian kids. I can't get enough of them. I love how they cut me off with ease, how comfortable they are with voicing their feelings and unreservedly announcing their opinions. I get a kick from everything they do or say. They are not kids. They are Egyptian Kids.

Ahh... Kids. What a blessing. Why can't they just stay all cute, cuddly, huggable and kissable forever and ever?:)