Patience is a Virtue

Being sick away from home is not easy.  It doesn’t matter if you are a student at your university a few hours away by car or in a foreign country; you want someone to take care of you. Even a sinus or upper repository infection can get really nasty, like the one I had last spring that found its way into both my eyes and made me look like a burnt out cokehead.  Luckily, with that one, the parents I nannied for at the time never said anything about my blazing red eyes for 3 days before I went to the doctor and got drops for them. Anyway, point of the story: I am sick.

So, a dear friend took me to a 24 hour clinic in Marj Al-Hamam, just outside of Amman.  Let me tell you, I was slightly afraid of the quality of health care I was about to get, but it was only 10JD (about $14) without insurance for the visit including an injection.  We walked into the clinic and found the doctor waiting behind the desk in the waiting room that looks like it was from 1983 with fake flowers adorning the corner.  On the wall a tube TV was mounted flashing images of L.A. from the program “The City” on MTV Arabia.  He greeted us without a smile, my friend asked where the doctor was in Arabic and the man behind the desk led us into the exam room, apparently he was the doctor.  It looked like a scene from a really bad horror film.  Light blue, white and stainless steel was the color scheme of choice. The early 30-something year old doctor with slightly red hair and blue eyes asked my friend what was wrong with me and than told me to describe my symptoms in less than perfect English.  As I told him what was wrong with me, I noticed his toes peeping through his sandals and I thought to myself, “Isn’t that breaking some health code?”

First, I told him I had sinus pressure, cough, runny nose, and aches in my legs. So, he checked my blood pressure, but not my temperature, listened to my lungs only from the front of my chest, not the back, and looks in the back of my throat, but didn’t feel my throat glands.  I even know to do step number two of all those things! Then he asked, “Do you prefer shots or pills?” My reply: “Why? What are you giving me?” He looked at me strangely like he didn’t understand and so my friend translated; he said shyly that is was antibiotics.  My friend started to talk to him as he was filling the needle and I mentioned I couldn’t have blood thinners – he had no idea what I was saying.  I explained by saying something about no aspirin and then he questioned me slightly annoyed, “Why not?” I told him why and mentioned, “Ya know, if it makes a difference.” He, still annoyed, said “It makes a big difference.”  Then I watched me crack open a small glass bottle the size a Barbie would use to christen a cruise ship with, and put its contents into the new syringe along with the antibiotic.

He struggled, constantly stopping to flick the syringe to get the air bubbles out and filling it little by little.  I was getting incredibly nervous by this point thinking, “What the hell is he putting in me?  What kind of antibiotic? He didn’t even ask me if I was allergic to penicillin.”  Here comes the kicker: the shot was to go into my ass, not my upper arm. WHAT! Who does that? I thought we stopped that in like 1912? He asks if I want my friend to do it.  Who, at the time to make this social situation just slightly easier, was playing the role of my fiancé.  I looked at my friend, “What? Hmm… I guess the doctor knows best. But have you done this before?” My friend replied, “Yeah, I have given a shot to myself a ton of times for B12.”  So I told the doctor, “I don’t know, I mean I guess he could.” I looked nervously at my friend with the “Save me now” look and he interjected, “No, no, it’s best the doctor does it.”  Whaaaat? He was supposed to save me! Did I get the facial expression wrong? What is happening?  I’m in a sketchy Jordanian clinic with a doctor, I feel doesn’t know anything – which to find out on the ride home he graduated from Damascus, not the prime choice for medical schools in the region – and now I have to get a shot in the ass from this red headed Syrian educated doctor as a young foreign girl in a male dominated culture? What am I doing here?!

That being said, I probably shouldn’t have pushed it yesterday. When I get really tired my patience is at a minimum and 5 and 6 year old kids are probably not the best to be around.  Even 5 year olds that form full sentences with capital letters, commas and full stops, understand missing addends and tens and units.  The last lesson of the day was completely horrendous.  Constant disruptions, talking, moving around – and this is REVISION!  It’s supposed to be easy, if they were taught well in the first place. Unfortunately, that was not the case – they were spoon fed the information, they don’t know it. So each revision exercise has turned into a mini lesson and takes an exuberant amount of time, plus I teach too slowly.

One tends to snap and every single day this week in the last lesson I have snapped.  I feel like that pink tweed wearing crazy teacher from Hogwarts.  Has anyone ever seen me yell at a classroom full of kids tell them they have the worst behavior in the world?  Could you even imagine me doing so?  Well I have and I feel like an awful person exactly about 3 seconds after.  I made two kids cry! What can I do? They don’t want to listen to me, my incentives barely work – I had to take away star row and a special treat on Thursday.  I kept them in from activities and sports day practice AND THEY STILL DON’T CARE! They have literally worn me out down to the point of getting ill. I’m not even getting into my Grade 1 class!

This leaves me sitting in bed at my new home without internet typing this post in MSWord feel much better than yesterday, but still taking a day to recover.  But I’m so thankful for the blessings I have here. I have found a wonderful down to earth roommate, a decent home well within my budget, a good job, and so many tests.  I am learning how brilliant young children can be and how to try and deal with them within a particular school that says they value their capacity but may not treat them like that.  Today is a day for me to refresh Jr. Youth Animator training and find my inspiration again and understanding of what education means.  I don’t want to go back next week freaking out again. I won’t allow it.