The Fuzz and the Weed

My recent visitors remarked something about Trashiyangtse that I was cognizant of in my first few days here but have since stopped noticing and never blogged about, namely, the substantial police presence:

Today the local police head gave a presentation to my school's older grades on drugs, assault, vandalism, and gang behaviour. It is pretty tempting when you teach in a Buddhist mountain kingdom to believe that your students don't encounter issues of that sort but of course they do.

In fact, the "war on drugs" is a bit more challenging here than at home because marijuana grows in every ditch. The teachers perform mass uprootings of the plants around the school but it is quick to grow back. I didn't realize before now just how literal the word "weed" is.

Like all of the Bhutanese I've met in positions of authority, the police officer dazzled me. He is as articulate, knowledgable and firm as you'd hope a spokesperson of the law would be, but he is also bubbly and sunny and unabashedly thrilled to be alive. He's very excited about bringing a Police / Youth Partnership programme that has been a success across Bhutan to Yangtse. The aim is to break down the "us vs. them" attitude that youth worldwide have about police in favour of trust and respect built on personal relationships.

In many developing countries, police and military are something to be feared but in Trashiyangtse the constant sight of uniforms is a constant reminder that I am protected.

Now Druk, you should let everyone have a turn...

It is time once again for your co-curriculars update complete with house standings: 

The calendar of literary activites is in full swing. We recently held the year's first Dzongkha-language storytelling competition (Class VII & VIII) and English-language poetry recital (Class V & VI). The children incorporated so much action into their dramatic readings that the photos were fuzzy! Here, one of my students recites, with homemade wand in hand, "If I were a Fairy with a Magic Wand":

On the athletic front, we're on to volleyball. Did you know that it only takes about ten minutes for sufficiently industrious students to transform a parking lot into a volleyball court?

The trickiest part is moving the motorcycles!

As with football, I was amazed by the students' volleyball skills:

Druk house is currently waaay ahead in the standings:

Druk House: 4 (spelling contest, boy's football, English poetry recital, boy's volleyball)

Tak House: 1 (girl's football)

Chung House: 0 

Seng (Lion) House: 1 (Dzongkha storytelling)

Part of the reason is certainly the male School Captain who is a member of Druk House and an absolutely exceptional athlete. He is the one in the strips about to pop the ball:

Arrivals from Canada

Yesterday, I received my first mail since I've been in Trashiyangtse (not counting electricity bills). It was a care package from home containing Quaker oatmeal and jumbo chocolate bars! My favourite thing in it / on it, though, was my mom's handwriting:

Later in the day something even better arrived from Canada! Trashiyangtse welcomed the Founder and Chair of the Bhutan Canada Foundation [BCF] Sam Blyth as well as a couple of his friends, his daughter Maddie, her flatmate Mimi, and (the only one of the crew I'd met before) the BCF's logistical whiz Karma. Sam himself is not in this picture, unfortunately, but he was very much here and happy to be:

The evening and morning I spent with the Canadians were wonderful! Our discussions about culture, education, and the upcoming election at home were as delicious as the food we were given at the Karmeling Hotel cum Bakery:

I particularly enjoyed getting to know Maddie and Mimi, shown here soaking wet after our thunder showery circumnavigation of Chorten Cora:

It is pretty amazing to work for a Foundation the heads of which care enough to come all the way to Yangtse to see me. I'm pretty remote here, but visits like this show me I'm remembered.

Bambooless Valley

As you've surely noticed, I've change the look and title of my blog. There is really not much bamboo in the Trashiyangtse Valley, which I thought there would be when I chose "Bamboo Valley." In fact, the only bamboo I've seen in town is this little cluster at the tip top of the Dzong hill:

The Lama with the Yellow Umbrella

Chorten Cora is a rainbow of special flags. The seventieth Je Khenpo is in town! He is the spiritual leader of Bhutan, the head of the central monk body, and the only person beside His Majesty permitted to wear a saffron kabney. Je Khenpo is not the #2 person in Bhutan; he is tied with the King for #1:

We all went down to recieve his blessing. As he moved through the rows touching our heads, there was a breif, gentle fall of rain. This is considered very auspicious, a blessing on the blessing. And it meant that I got to see the Je Khenpo's umbrella which, surely not by pure coincidence, matches his kabney: 

After he physically touched us, we each recieved a sacramental piece of breadish buttercake and a little wine. It felt very much like Christian Communion. I like the Buddhist way of giving the wine better, though. It is poured into your hand from a teapot. You bring it to your lips to taste then touch your hand to your hair.

We also received blessed purity cords to wear around our necks:

Partway through the event, I happened to notice one more eye on the chorten than I'd ever seen before. I asked Madam Sonam about it. She'd never noticed it before today, either, and she's been here for years.  

Isn't it interesting that a symbol of Enlightment can be painted plainly on a giant white structure at the centre of your life and you still don't see it? It reminds me of the story that Principal Sir told in this morning's assembly....

One day while walking through an open market, a group of good boys came upon a woman who was bent over scouring the ground. "Are you looking for something, ma'am?" they asked. "Yes," she said, "my work is mending clothes but I've dropped my one good needle." Their response was cheerful, "We will help!" and they looked and looked. After a very long while of very earnest searching, one boy said, "are you sure you dropped it near here?" "I dropped it at home," she replied, "But it is so dim in there and so hard to look that I decided to search outside where its sunnier." We look outside ourselves for happiness, but that can only be found when we brave the shadows inside.

But, Protagoras, can virtue be taught? [This one definitely goes out to Eleanor]

I love coincidence! I'm working my way through a series of fifty audiolectures in philosophy which I listened to a few years ago but I wanted to refresh on. On the very same day that I reached the lecture "Can Virtue be Taught?", I found out that I'm getting a new course in my docket. I will be conducting class five Value Education.

I'm really excited because I have free reign in how I fill the one period per week allocated to the subject. We can do drama. We can read stories. We can play games. We can do art. The only specification is that I explictedly inculcate good human values which build Gross National Happiness. Can virtue be taught? I guess we'll see!

Rather than have an entry with no photos, this is just a snap of my walk home from school.

I certainly do teach English, too!

Today is Wednesday, which is when I usually post about Maths Club. In my father's most recent email, though, he said, "your blog always seems to be about math. I thought you were teaching some English, too..." I guess it's high time I give an update on Class VII English!

The most important concept for students to wrap their heads around this year is metaphor. Most of the pieces of literature we study centre around one well-developed comparison. In 'Advice to a Girl' by Sara Teasdale, a piece of advice (specifically, "no one worth possessing can be quite possessed") is compared to a stone. A girl possessed by anger, it explains, can be calmed by good advice just as her hot cheeks could be cooled by a smooth stone. Once calm, she can meditate on the wise words just as she could study the stone's beautiful complexity. Needless to say, the poem appealed strongly to the intensely-emotional geologist in me. My class sevens selected their favourite proverbs and wrote them on smooth stones:

A more involved metaphor project was to prepare a poster comparing themselves to any object of their choice. I think they did a wonderful job!