Back to the matter, I was looking over my Korean blogs after talking about the good old days on the magical peninsula with some expats I met here that lived in Daegu. I forgot how much fun I had writing! I wrote a lot personally wrapping up my time in Korea and kept it close to the chest. When I got here I wrote some stuff during orientation and a blurb about my first impressions of the kids, then the pen only met the lesson plans and mark books, hence the lack of blogging. I started writing Friday morning during that purgatory of a hangover where you want to do something but it doesn't involve a high level of thinking.
Yet again, I digress. Work is good. I've met a bunch of new people from plenty of cool places that have taken unique paths to end up in this little chunk of the desert. As teachers do, I've been taught a lot about the profession these past 8 months in regards to the classroom, kids, teaching, and the world. Some of this information contradicts itself, but this a profession where uniqueness is essential to succeed and find your comfort zone. When you start working in a new environment, epiphanies of any size are incredibly important; they are the life force to keep you constantly improving and upping your game. The idea sounds bizarre, but I love continually finding bad habits and pushing myself to get better. Full of ambition, I boasted that I would try to improve on one thing everyday at one of our first meetings. That doesn't happen, I'm not regimented like that. This improvement has been organic and that suits my style. Self-improvement is awesome but other times veterans and superiors spell it out for you.
I had my first non-Korean observation since my practicum a month into the year and that was incredibly intimidating. Everyone around me was reassuring but I knew that I wasn't going to get a great score, because I was still figuring stuff out. Obviously, classroom management is a problem for the guy who organically modifies his teaching style. I was given tips and advice from staff that really helped me. The procedure of rebooting 26 ten-year-old children didn't take as long as I thought it would but at the same time there are a couple non-compliant kiddos.
And now we enter the most precious and strenuous part of teaching. Children. Sorry, they're students because they're learning, duh. I've realized after teaching in three countries that this age group will always have troubled kids, shy kids, balls of energy, future Einsteins, jocks and social butterflies. The only thing that's different is the reasons and the culture that surrounds them. I'm proud of their good intentions and confidence, but it just needs to be more consistent and directed properly and that's the life coach part of being a teacher. I'm not going to divulge anymore into the people and events in my classroom and school because I'd consider it gossip but I'd back all of my kids to the moon with their dreams and push them to get it. This wasn't an initial notion, it took me a couple weeks with them and a restless night to figure it out, for all of them. The best advice I got was from a mentor across the pond who told me that you have to be crazy about your kids, just like their parents should be, because when you become a teacher, you become a surrogate parent.
Oh and the parents, once again, I'm not going to slander I'm going to use suggestive language. This is my first time having the option to have continual parent involvement because in Korea I had one parent meeting in two years. When you strip these meetings down to the core it all comes down to one thing. In the Sopranos you'd have a sit-down when there's a problem: maybe someone isn't paying up the right percentages, maybe someone's in too deep, maybe the boss isn't reciprocating, maybe there's a rat in the house, or there are two guys fighting over money. Obviously my appointments aren't like that but you, the reader, are old enough to understand. Nobody books a meeting to congratulate someone, those are emails. There will be meetings that make you feel as proud as ever and ones where you're a speck. In the end, those meetings must reach this harmonious sense of satisfaction in the triangle of parent-teacher-student relations.
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After reading that jumble of words you don't get a real impression of Doha. That's because my job does take up a majority of my time. That, and traffic is pretty brutal here. The amount of construction is really ridiculous, small talk in hotel bars has led me to believe that this metro system is going to very big and not just centred around the World Cup in 2022, which is a very important fact. Along with that big show, Doha seems to be expecting a major jump in population too. Apartment complexes are coming up in herds. It makes sense they are attracting a lot of attention: they have soccer/football friendlies here and their own tennis open and they're developing some top talent here for the future of that sport as well. The music scene is mostly local, Ed Sheehan, or whatever his name is, came here but other than that most performances take place in Dubai. The local performers are lots of fun, I just saw Groove Office and they're pretty rocking. In the shadow of Burj Khalifa, Qatar is still on route to becoming a great country to visit and live in for the years to come, after all Rome wasn't built in a day either.
Doha does have some finished products that are beautiful. If I lived closer to the Corniche, it's like a boardwalk, I'd stroll down there everyday. That is one thing I miss about living in Haeundae, that smell of salt and the breeze that comes with it. They also have the Souqs which are markets that cater to the specifics. I've been down the gravel road of the Plant Souq, right across from the Vegetable Souq (Spoiler alert: lots of potatoes). It gives off the vibe of a farmer's market but for wholesales.
A little ways in from the Corniche, there is the traditional Souq as well where you can buy Middle Eastern crafts and clothes. This main Souq adjoined to the prestigious Falcon Souq! Yes, a market specifically for purchasing falcons, falcon caps, and other accessories that are terrible and yet ever-so appropriate gifts (its a symbol of Qatar) for your extended family. The Falcon Souq even has a hospital exclusively for falcons.
About five minutes away from the falcons is the Pet Souq. For me this is a terrible place to go. I live alone and strolling through alleys where all you see are sad animals crowded in cages it's very hard not to buy a rabbit, kitten, or puppy. Except the toucans because they're 3 000 USD and look content in a roomy cage eating Froot Loops. The parrots are even pricier. I never go there on purpose but the market paths wind around and are still a mystery to me.
If you dip out of the traditional Souq and back out to the Corniche you'll come up to the Museum of Islamic Art, or the MIA. It's a gorgeous building right on the water. The artifacts inside are very traditional and offer exactly what the title suggests. It's free too, so check it out if you're visiting and an art lover. If not, there's the lovely MIA park and the continuation of the Corniche that curves out behind the MIA. It would look like a tidal wave from a bird's eye view. Along the tan stones of the Corniche is tons of green space that is used to capacity for kicking around the football, having a picnic or just some quality family time. That is one of the strangest things here, is the amount of green grass you see maintained like Augusta in the middle of a desert. When I go there it doesn't feel like I'm in the middle of the desert.
At the end of the Corniche is a coffee place. Let it be clear the stuff they sell is standard, nothing exorbitant or unique, people come for the view. I've had many a trip down their at about 4 in the afternoon to watch the day turn to night and the lights across the water light up. And across that water is what Doha aspires to be, a booming metropolis with towering pieces of architecture that look like narwhals, twisters, pyramids, a zero, and some less-authentic rectangular skyscrapers. The sight is quite something especially when the lights come on. From an interpretive standpoint the skyline says a lot about the city itself: this is a city of expats, migrants, and indigenous people. Each building looks like it was built somewhere else and brought to Doha to give you this portrait of friends as opposed to family. And that's exactly what I've gotten out of this so far, friends I'd take a professional picture with, and it's called a staff photo.
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