This week was a beast.  Probably the most difficult part of it was truly feeling like I was a good steward to everything I was responsible for doing well.  Looking back, I can't tell whether I really did that.  Maybe I did and it's just impossible to register amid the swirl of so many other things, but I'd like to hear a quiet "good job!" now and again. 

Ultimately I know He does when I delight myself in Him, but I feel like the lesson this week has been persisting in that when you don't see where the energy exists to do it.  That's where my attention seems to turn to the things around me for that approval, but I don't think I fell to that.  When I gave my "Mid-Term Teacher Feedback" to a class of students, I was afraid I'd take personally or do some pedagogical form of groveling, but I didn't.  Thankfully, I took in their comments, evaluated them, and, hopefully, can make adjustments where possible. 

All that centers around being faithful.  I want to do what puts me in a good light with others simply for the fact I've been pursuing their better interests as best as I understand them.  The test for me as my students' are facing literal tests is whether it's possible to be both such a steward AND meet tangible in-class needs?  A kind of inspiration that takes one kind of stewardship and it leads to an almost pragmatic stewardship of their felt needs.  In this case, as my students. 

Mid-terms are coming up soon.  I'll find out soon enough. 

Even though I completed one assignment for graduate school, there's no self-congratulatory sense of "accomplishment," as I just feel like another bit of work has taken its place.  Instead of that it's more of the same, and less of a sense like I'm getting something done.  Be it sketching out another assignment, meaningfully preparing for classes, or taking care of other business, where's the enjoyment?  Right now, it just feels like "stuff."  I don't prefer that label, it wasn't sought after, but it's there.  An on-going sense of pressure.  That's what this feels like. 

Hello October . . .

Below is an e-mail I received that I edited to make a less screamingly "partisan."  I really am only getting involved with this because I don't like elections getting reduced to misinformation on both sides.  Raising points are good from either side, but not when answers have already been given. 

Here’s the truth: the smear associating Barack to Ayers is “phony” according to the Washington Post. The Associated Press calls the attack “exaggerated at best, if not outright false.”

William Ayers is a professor of education at the University of Illinois at Chicago, with whom Barack served on the board of a charitable anti-poverty organization in the mid-1990s. According to the Associated Press, they are not close: “No evidence shows they were “pals” or even close when they worked on community boards years ago …”

Smear groups are trying to connect Obama to acts Ayers committed 40 years ago – when Barack was just eight years old. Here’s what the New York Times reported on the connection:

But the two men do not appear to have been close. Nor has Mr. Obama ever expressed sympathy for the radical views and actions of Mr. Ayers, whom he has called “somebody who engaged in detestable acts 40 years ago, when I was 8.”

Barack has publicly denounced Ayers’ radical actions from the 1960’s:

Senator Obama strongly condemns the violent actions of the Weathermen group, as he does all acts of violence. But he was an eight-year-old child when Ayers and the Weathermen were active, and any attempt to connect Obama with events of almost forty years ago is ridiculous.

Read the refutations from the news sources yourself:

· CNN: Palin’s Claim That Obama is Palling Around with Terrorists is “False.”

· AP: Obama And Ayers Relationship Is “Exaggerated At Best If Not Outright False”

· New York Times: Obama And Ayers “Do Not Appear To Have Been Close.”

· New York Times: Obama calls Ayers “Somebody Who Engaged in Detestable Acts 40 Years Ago, When I Was 8.”

· Detroit Free Press: Ayers Smear, Like Jerome Corsi’s Obama Nation, Is “A Tome Full of Fabrications, Half-Truths, and Delusions.”

· Chicago Sun-Times: Obama ‘‘deplored’’ what Ayers did in the 1960s and ‘‘by the time I met him, he is a professor of education at the University of Illinois. We served on a board together that had Republicans, bankers, lawyers, focused on education.”

Grounds the whole Main Street-Wall Street banter into reality. 

Mean St. replaces Main St. - Los Angeles Times

After too many hours working in my room, I needed to step out of my room to de-stress.  The sights and the smells were all familiar to  me.  The nose is assailed with a mixture of the acrid smell of exhaust, the lingering scent of something burning somewhere, an occasional smell of something sweet sold by a curbside vendor, and the sour, pungent stench of urine against a wall or dark corner.  As far as the sights, everything seemed a little smoky, and the crowded-flow of traffic as constant as usual.  The only time either were mostly absent was from when I was leaving and returning to the university, but even then it was about as quiet as a besieged castle is peaceful:  presence without experience. 

In many ways, I live a pretty dull life.  My schedule and interests are largely unchanged, being a result to adjusting to living in a city while adamantly favoring small towns.  There would seem to be many people around me, but very few to actually spend quality time with.  Countless conversations, but seldom any involving me.  Is this experience my choosing?  Not exactly.  It's more of a reaction to circumstances I don't prefer. 

Be it the teaching environment or the living environment, it's not exactly a good fit.  My students are great--I love them, but they're not the lower-level students I was readying myself for.  Ha Noi is fine--each city district in some way resembles a village, but it's still a city with countless people emerging out of nowhere. 

The question I keep returning to, in some form or fashion, is "where does all this leave me?"  I'm not angst-ridden or lonely, yet it's not a preference I had much say over.  Is this how I want to feel for wherever I'm going to work for the many years of my life? 

I get the distinct impression there must be a lot of new people working at the university this year compared to last year.  After a month of school starting back up, at least one person each week has come by the foreign teacher guest house and will do at least two of the following:  peer into my window (if open), knock on my door, and/or open my door before I am even near the door to open it myself.  A guy just did that a few minutes ago. 

That also happened twice yesterday by the same guy.  The second time he asked if I spoke Vietnamese, I did, and he said he was trying to get to building A5.  I already guessed that because he, like the rest of the newbies, didn't know there are two A5 buildings:  one at the College of Foreign Languages campus, and one at the larger National University campus we're a part of.  To be honest, I didn't feel like explaining that to him.  I just told him this is the foreign teacher guest house (also one of the A5s), which he repeated back a little puzzled, and I said, "Correct.  That's the reason I'm here." 

I probably could have been a little bit more patient and polite, eh?  Maybe I should go the other route and throw them completely off by having my small tea kettle ever-full of green tea, and, whenever one of those meandering people comes by, mistake them as people REALLY wanting to sit and drink tea with me.  THEN I'm sure they'd figure out they're at the wrong place. 

I got struck recently with the reality I'd touched on things political, largely in light of this election, but never really explained my reasons for the smattering of responses I've made up to this point.  In the event of any confusion or concerns, I thought it fair to sit and just share where I'm at with regards to politics. 

First, I need to give credit where credit's due to people I know who've challenged me along the way.  They are Ryan Chan, Avi Mechanic, Tom Boeger, and Robert Burns.  Guys, if by some random chance you stumble upon this post (I never know who really reads what I write), y'all have helped broaden my response to the issues.  Some has been through direct exchanges, and other from just hearing you articulate your views through blogs (Ryan, especially from you; thank you).  So, my gratitude to y'all.  You're all deserving a Facebook tag to this message after it gets imported.  Now, onto the mess . . .

The biggest thing to say is I don't like political parties or the ideologies espoused by them, meaning Democrats being "liberal" or Republicans being "conservative."  I've found neither very relevant to understanding the views of either party, and often seems more like a smoke screen to keep people focused on what such "liberalism" or "conservatism" means according to views of one or two issues.  That coincides with a practice I find unfruitful, and that is voting straight-ticket.  When that's done, it opens up the doors to more problems that accompany neglect of anything, namely either eventual discontentment or numbness to the nominees' accountability to all issues. 

From that is my view that issues need to be regarded according to their sum-implications, not simply the specific effect of one or two.  An example is that, as much as I wish McCain was less outspoken about the War in Iraq, that issue alone is not a morally-justifiable reason for me not to vote for him.  The greatest danger I've noticed to "politics as usual" has been an assumed moral ambiguity toward the lump-sum of the issues, with a tiny handful being relegated as "moral." 

Alongside that arises another form of neglect, but this time on the part of politicians.  Being "moral" about the "moral" issues does not imply that personal morality is informing the rest of a politician's political decisions.  Given how I consider people of all makes and models to be depraved in different ways--withstanding redemption--I cannot put anyone above accountability there.  I won't go into my views of the more overt moral issues, except that I feel like an involved and caring community is the best balm to heal societal wounds, not a politician or government.  The trouble in the US, though, is such interconnected community and fellowship have so cruelly deteriorated that anyone with a microphone has taken the role I think is better suited for a loving community.  At best, the levels of government need to make it possible for such a community to thrive, but not usurp that role. 

My final view of politics is what I look for in a politician, particularly one seeking to be elected.  I'll begin with what I don't look at:  race, ethnicity, sex, geographical region, political party, achievements, or a forgivable past.  What I do look for is a sense of vision for his/her constituency and country, willingness to learn, ease in communication, intelligence, a sense of community, demonstrates humility, servant leadership, and regard for the humanity of others--voter or rival politician/candidate alike.  I feel like those should be self-explanatory, so I won't insult your intelligence by describing why.  What I will say is I REALLY NEED to see all of those in a politician or I'll have serious hesitation about supporting that person.  The combined and frequent absence of those things has been the main source of distaste I have towards the game of politics. 

If any questions still arise, I don't know what else I could say since I already said much, but I'll do my best!  In a nutshell, that's me and politics. 

Sometimes I wonder about what's really happening when I notice changes going on around me.  I think I'll always wish I was more different in those areas that persist in being my own problems, but it's nice to see some positive changes.  A schedule has taken some kind of shape now and should be in full swing next week, yet there continues to be blessings that aren't so teaching related. 

The thing I sort of worried about this year is how much I'd get to stay in contact with former students, or simply older students I'm not going to be teaching again (or never did).  I've been grateful to have more opportunities to connect with people I'd either wanted to stay in contact with, or to get to know better.  In many ways, it's the students that I'm around more than other foreigners who I get to know the most (except, of course, the students who are foreigners), and who hopefully get to know me as well as can be.  Maybe I'm just finally accepting that.  A little odd, considering I'll be 27 in a couple of months. 

Times can be a bit of a downer now and again, so I'll welcome these changes.  As I think about it, these blessings awaken me more to greater Goodness that can be so evasive in life.  Not merely that relationships with all kinds of people are themselves "Goodness," but how Good can come out of them.  Same same, but different (now I need to buy one of those shirts in Thailand, don't I?). 

I was within a breath of giving this the heading "Yesterday once more," but I suppressed that urge.  The foreign community at the school gets mixed up and regrouped, it would seem.  There are a new group of Chinese students studying Vietnamese here, as well as English.  I can say the latter for certain because I found out my Reading class this morning is now international:  there is a young Chinese woman in the class, and a young Korean man.  Maybe this "international" set up will last longer than it did last year with the Turkish student, who survived about a month of it. 

I'd also known the influx of Chinese students studying mostly Vietnamese were here for a couple of weeks now, but I hadn't gotten to actually talk to any until just now over dinner.  Once again, I noticed Chinese students are more inclined to go up and talk to a foreigner than Vietnamese students.  Differences in sensibilities.  Nothing bad either way. 

So, things are feeling a little more routine, albeit random bit by random bit. 

There would seem to be something unattainable in rapidly achieved distance.  Perhaps it's a spoiled land no one is meant to comment on, but I frequently find myself there.  I'd attempt to greet the things and the natures that estrange me.  To make strangeness and distance my accomplices in bonds. 

Then, there will be these measures, pulsating and living inside me, that would beg for the things I know not, and yet persists after.  Were I to understand this and be understood by it, would it draw me closer to You?  Does it mean retreat is the only way to do this? 

On which land do I stake my claim, make my home, and shrug this burden? 

It's Thursday evening for me, and that leaves only one more class tomorrow morning until my first "full" week of class is finished.  So, I've gotten to understand a little bit better about how this semester might feel, and the kind of stresses there will be.  A teensy bit of an insular week, but it's been alright. 

In a lot of ways, returning to the same location is just as much an arrival to a different place.  I wonder whether I've become a bit aloof to continuity.  Like, once I actually AM at the same place for several years, I still don't know whether that reality will really register with me.  Where and how do you commit yourself?  How does that look?  I begin to think maintaining relationships over long distances feels too much like delicate tendrils. 

Then again, there are the students.  The same age as the ones from last year, but I'm a year older.  You might want to assume some form of your own growth while your students are a fountain of youth, but life continues to bestow on you more to learn.  The puzzle box of teaching seems to be you dwell in the vacuum of agelessness.  An unhatched revelation there. 

With fresh faces of fear and uncertainty on many of them, it's hard not to be compassionate.  You continually live in what is their future.  One day, though, I imagine I'll wake up with hair peppered gray, but I'll still be thinking I'm 26!  We shall see. 

I've been wanting to get a better sense of where McCain had been in the past, and where he's at now.  I'd heard on both sides of the political fence through the news that he'd changed since 2000 and was less "maverick."  Below is the link to an article written by Elizabeth Drew, who wrote a book supporting him in 2002 called Citizen McCain.  This is me purely wanting to get a better perspective of where he was and where he's at.  She seems a little disappointed.  How McCain was described by her in 2000, I wouldn't have minded voting for him then.

How McCain lost me

This afternoon I went to the typical photocopy place I go to and did the normal, uncomplicated habit of getting copies.  There'd been a new kid working there (I say "kid" because he can't be any older than 12), and we've been having some communication problems.  Nothing out of the ordinary, but it's got me thinking about what I should do with me studying Vietnamese. 

Strangely enough, the problems are from either the number 10 or intervals of 10.  First was him saying 10 in Vietnamese and showing 10 fingers at the same time.  Since he didn't have a reason to expect a foreigner to understand Vietnamese, that was nothing new.  Then, today, his learning curb was challenged when I said "22" (hai muoi hai/hai mươi hai).  Not a hard number to pronounce, given it's all flat-toned, but he thought I was trying to give a fancy way of saying "24" by saying "2 x 12."  If I wanted that, I'd just say "hai tu/hai tư" and be done with it, but this is all the magical game of perception:  he just thought I didn't know to drop the falling tone with 12 (muoi hai/mười hai) when numbers reached 20 or higher. 

Still, perception or not, I realized "I should probably get some kind of plan with studying Vietnamese pretty soon," but I'm at a bit of a standstill. 

Until then, me and the photocopy kid may soon be resorting to elaborate games of charades, even though we'll both actually be speaking the same language. 

For the past couple of days I'd reach a certain point where I just stop doing things.  I'd told myself "I just don't know what to do," but I realize that's not altogether true.  Sometimes you wake up from something akin to a dream, like your mind had been in a fog, and you realize you've been wasting your life on things. 

Maybe it's not on everything--very likely it isn't--but does that really matter?  What are those things that fog our mind to honest choices?  It's the weird premonition for me because I used to consider my days as very full, but lately they've been lacking due to ultimately wasted time.  You commit yourself to something inconsolable and you find your heart distant, distraught. 

I haven't pursued this, but this has probably been what's gnawing at my conscience.  It has nothing to do with this very likely being my last year in Viet Nam.  Could that have leant itself to it?  Possibly, but this is a greater lesson to me than where it came from. 

At times like these, I wonder whether I'm like a driver in a car, sitting stationary while blindly staring at the next bend in the road, never taking myself down the path my eyes are blankly regarding . . . 

I try not to get political, though way lean that way a little as the election draws closer.  This article is a fairly objective response to the whole "bridges to nowhere" controversy surrounding Palin.  Refreshingly objective.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/cq/20080909/pl_cq_politics/politics2945424;_ylt=AlvqB9hE1yFKUknzqWwnlONsnwcF

Simply funny.  I don't think it's actually politically motivated, which is nice.  Both candidates get a laugh. 

It seems like the more exposure I have to what is teaching, the less certain I feel about how I've been teaching/still teach.  There's that humbling, frightening feeling sometimes of "I'm falling short here and there's nothing I can do about it."  At least, that's how it feels once the realization dawns during teaching or lesson planning moments that fall flat and you're left with that force to confront. 

How have I typically confronted these things?  Not very well or productively.  Very often a reflex, and not always demonstrating sincere understanding towards what needs to be done.  In the classroom, it's an utter revision of what I've perceived to be good and effective.  I'm forced to admit how the ways I've done things have ultimately been very weak, and how my next steps are strange and unusual.  Not simply like atrophied muscles, but a whole other approach. 

I had two high-content weeks of graduate school classes over a month ago, and I can still feel myself laid-low by them.  My inabilities as a teacher have not felt too defined, or it's been a little while since I've been granted an epiphany of my limitations. 

First official "class" today.  Time to grow up, Patterson, and I'm not simply speaking about as a teacher. 

Well . . . crap.  Maybe this is to be expected, maybe not, but my return to "teaching" here seems to be in the fashion that greets life as a foreign teacher. 

First, I need to say for background that all of my specialized, higher-level English classes were taught in the afternoon throughout last year.  That was the assumed period of the day for this semester, so that's when I took the periods to occur this year.  Little did I know they were actually in the morning.  Who knew this?  Apparently everyone did, student and teacher alike. 

I bring that up here because this morning, as I was casually drinking coffee and getting ready to make photocopies for the class I was intending to teach this afternoon, I send a text message to the monitor of that class to see if she got my e-mail that included the syllabus.  After a couple of texts later, she says she'll send it in the afternoon, and that will be for class next week.  "But we have class this afternoon," I think.  Low and behold, after a few phone calls, no, we do not. 

So . . . yeah.  I'm not happy about this, but I'm not COMPLETELY surprised by it, either.  On now my fifth year as "the foreigner," I know that's life as a foreign teacher, and I understand how it's very easy to get left out or to have others assume "oh he knows" or "somebody already told him, I'm sure."  Still, though, for the first week??? 

It's like you get psyched up and ready to get rolling, only to find it's for nothing. 

I've finally accepted the "I'm back" mentality, as I'm finally seeing myself mentally prepared for the coming year.  It didn't really involve anything during training time the week before, but simply admitting I'm ready.  Most of it was setting aside work and year-old lessons to be looked at and readied, and *GASP* benefiting from my time reading a grammar reference book.  I could've gagged as that dawned on me. 

Still, and maybe I shouldn't be too shocked by this, I've found myself accepting this will be my last year.  Not overseas, but very likely my last year in Viet Nam.  I've not been greeted by the desperation that can be called "intentionality."  A mere quiet, subtle realization sinking in.  Even the reality of an eventual year in the US afterwards began to feel more real.  I haven't started impatiently longing towards that, but the dots seemed to connect today. 

I've generally been a slow learner, haven't I?  Or maybe that's just the speed I process stuff. 

A curious phenomena had been (and is) taking place next to me at the foreign language high school beside the foreign teacher housing.  Many students, mostly girls, are reciting what sound like cheerleading cheers, obscure alterations of Queen's "We Will Rock You" (they seem to have confused Hans and Franz there, singing "we will pump you up"), or what sound like crowd-led cheers at different sporting events.  It's the anti-sporting event:  cheering for yourself. 

Perhaps the temptation is a familiar one, but when there's no "other" to be cheering and encouraging, who's all the noise for?  Probably just kids being kids, but I wonder where they get the idea from.