Just when I thought it couldn't get worse...

Boy, did we earn these certificates of participation!

Kids painting project

(Sorry about the spacing on this post - I fix it when I edit, but it goes back to this when I'm done.)

For the last two weeks, we have been involved in the AUI Children's summer program (for children of AUI faculty and staff) which the girls attended. I was a volunteer. Here's the run-down...








The limit was to be 50. Then they raised it to 80. Then they capped it at 100. The youngest children were to be 4. Somehow a whole bunch of 2-3 year olds showed up... such is life in a negotiation culture!




Day One:







One hour - calling names out individually and giving nametages and hats while the rest of the children are told to sit quietly



Two hours - dancing with clowns to unbelievably loud 'tectonic' and Indian music









Day Two:







I'm in charge of a painting project. Misty and I lay out all supplies which are ready 30 minutes prior. Then I find out another friend and I are actually in charge of two painting projects, not one. This means we wait for a class to finish and madly set up an entire classroom by dragging/running in 13 tables in and covering them with leftover plastic and newspaper. Five minutes before the kids come, the director asks me to move my project to another day. Although in my mind I am running down the hall screaming, I politely tell him it's impossible. Kids arrive. Promised pencils do not. Someone runs to the office to get some. Project begins and continues as well as a painting project can. I ask (for the tenth time) how long we have. I still get no answer. Then I am told I need to move rooms to do the project with the older kids instead of the kids coming to me. There is no transition time. So we grab our supplies and run to the other classroom which has paint ALL OVER from the preceding project. Almost all of the volunteers end up in the other class. I'm left with the clown. We begin in chaos. We end in chaos.
Later we quickly wipe down tables because Gerald is giving a midterm there in a few hours.


That night I decide I need to get over my new-found culture shock. I decide to relax & enjoy the remaining days of craziness.


Day Three:


Kendra's group swims in a three-foot baby pool


I'm with Katrina's group and (to the beat of unbelievably loud tectonic & Indian music) get assigned to basketball - lots of fun since this is the only place in the world where I'm an expert.


One hour of dancing to - I think you know by now what kind...




Day Four:



Planting the pots we painted. One child at a time. Each one brings the pot to the gardener who does all the work. Three hours. I entertain the waiting kids a little. Then we dance - yep, you know.





I struggle with how much to intervene or suggest changes. I'm a lowly volunteer on the outside, but a teacher on the inside. In this culture, you make suggestions differently and I'm not sure how to go about this without offending anyone.


The director asks me if we should perhaps organize the kids into groups with an adult (they lost one child the day before temporarily). I tell him that is a brilliant idea.



Day Five:

Katrina swims.


The idea of adults in charge of kid groups dissolves. You can't fix a moving train.


I'm with Kendra's group. Organized games to LOUD music go poorly because volunteers have to scream at the top of their lungs just to talk to someone three feet away. Children run away. A lot. I catch them. One gives me a kiss. More children run away. They begin going to whatever game they want. This is the reason 3-year-olds should not be there. One game is golfing on the gym floor with real clubs and balls. A little boy gets a bloody nose. I pull out a parachute game someone gave me. Chaos - I can't yell above the music and when I ask them to turn it down, it doesn't stay down.



Day Six:

Katrina learns (very low-key, innocent) belly dancing - now there's something we don't do in VBS back in the States! Then she dances to more tectonic. She says, "Mommy - I don't even like to dance! What a good little Mennonite :)



I go with Kendra's group for a field trip to a fishery. Sixty children and adults fit into two 15-passenger vans. When I offer to drive my own car, the director says, "No! I want us all to be together!" But it was a nice trip. Nice to get away from the MUSIC. I can hear myself think. Then we hike half-an-hour over rocks and thistles in the sun and heat (remember - these are the 3-year-olds). The kids barely complain. Moroccan kids are amazing. We play and picnic under some trees. Vans are 30 minutes late to pick us up. Looking at the angry parents as we returned the kids 45 minutes late, I turn to my Moroccan friend and say, "I'm going to pretend I don't understand Arabic."




The organizers never show up when the kids report meaning it is mayhem for at least half-an-hour before the program starts. Other parents stand by while children fight, run, 'strangle' and body-slam each other. Am I really the only one that doesn't approve and that stops the kids? Do I look like a crazy, paranoid American? I start bringing coloring and legos after the first few days. I don't care how many I lose, this is an investment. Then at the end of each day, planned events usually end an hour early meaning more dancing with the veiled clown (bet you've never seen one of those).





Day Seven:





Kendra dances "over and over and over and over again" as she says.





I volunteer to go with Katrina's group on the field trip. Anything to get out of that gym. This time they have a bus and they figure out how to not make the kids walk so far. Fun times had by all. On the way home, the bus driver puts on some Arabic music. Hands instinctively raise as the kids cannot stop themselves from dancing. Pretty soon the entire aisle is filled with dancing kids.

Day Eight (the last one!!!):

I knew when I read: "Rehearsal 2-5:30, Performance 5:30-6:15" that it would be bad.

Organizers are 45 minutes late. It's me, 100 kids, and some peaceful parents. I'm at the end of my rope. Normally I can win over 5th grade boys. But my language/reasoning is just no good in Arabic. Then to the rehersal - where the kids try to sit or take turns practicing for three hours. I escape half-way through and call Gerald crying - "I just can't take any more!!!" He calms me down and helps me turn back around and go back in.

And I thought labor was bad.

Then the program - Guess what? All that seemingly pointless, time-filling, chaotic dancing turned into an amazingly good program show complete with costumes, 'smoke,' disco lights & loud music of course.

We're done. Or are we? Now they're giving out certificates of participation one at a time to 100 kids with loud music between each name. I exchange glances with Gerald from the stage. The look on his face when he realizes how long this will take is priceless. The program ends only 1 1/2 hours late.

Are you exhausted? I am! As a hyper-vigilant, over-planning, parent, teacher & former VBS organizer, it's a surprise I have any hair left.

I've learned a few things too - while organization is great, free time with happy, dancing kids is pretty great too. And it's fun to watch our girls interact with their Moroccan friends chattering away in French. Knowing the Moroccan girls can play instead of being restricted to their houses where they clean or watch TV all day makes me happy. I've learned to love the clowns who had amazing amounts of energy, and I've learned that Moroccans have almost no limit in how much they can dance. I learned to appreciate the frustrations of Gerald and my friends here who work cross-culturally all the time. And I learned that type A personalities should be careful when signing up for a children's summer program in Morocco.



But I did succeed a litte. I had fun - mostly. But I might just be losing my hearing.