This article from Issue 27 of the PYP Inclusive newsletter, was published and shared by the Victorian PYP Network in July 2010. It was written by Craig Coutts, primary school principal at United World College of South East Asia, Singapore.
So, it is a long weekend, the family have a visit to the zoo, dinner and drinks with friends and maybe a long, lazy sleep planned. But what was I going to be doing? I’m running a three day seminar for the staff and management of seven orphanages. OK, it’s in Bali but there was definitely no “fun in the sun” going on! While my wife and kids (whom I don’t see as often as I wish, anyhow) are at home excited by the prospect of three days of no school or work, I am hopping on an aeroplane. Again. Why do we do this, we educators, the people who have chosen to teach?
I was certainly asking myself this question again when I arrived at the conference centre. After travelling all day I was told by the man on the front desk that I couldn’t have the key until the secretary arrived. It was 8.00pm and I had left home 12 hours beforehand…I needed a room! Thirty minutes later, I had a key and I entered my room. Now if you have an image in your mind of something resembling a Sheraton Hotel room, stop right now and drop down at least four stars; it was simple, but adequate.
Even though it was now nearly 9.00pm, it was time to find tables and chairs and set up the venue for the following day. The tables were long and narrow, to match the room. Not great, but that was the least of my worries. I opened up the case for the projector and an array of screw drivers and pliers fell out; not something that inspires confidence in the equipment you need to use for the next three days. Then we set up the two easels to hold the large sheets of paper for our discussion notes. Both collapsed in unison. Luckily, I had brought along tape and string. I don’t know why, I just did. Lucky!
Meanwhile, my partner for the presentation texted to say that his flight was delayed three hours and wouldn’t be in before 2am. I felt slightly more sorry for him than myself, slightly, and decided to call it a night. I hopped into my bed, which had no top sheet and a WWII issue blanket with enough stains that you could use it for a psychiatric ink blot test, and went to sleep.
I woke up at 5.30am to the sound of “test, test, test… 1, 2, 3… test… test”. Yeah, 5.30am is a great time to check the PA system; when else would you do it after all! By the way, this was to be superseded on Sunday morning, when a troop of scouts camping at the same facility, decided to get up and play music through the sound system at 4.00am. Loud! Very loud!
So, it is Friday morning, it is now 6.00am and I can’t go back to sleep. I’ll go for a walk. Pleasant it was, too, until I returned to my room for a shower. I turned on the hot water tap and it was freezing.
Now, I know you’re saying to yourself, this is Bali, the tropics, don’t be a wimp. What I neglected to inform you was that this conference centre is not near the beach, near the resorts or near anything of consequence, it was in Bedugul. Now I don’t expect any of you to know where this is, but it is next to a volcanic lake, on top of the highest point in Bali. It is cold; jumper and jacket cold.
It is 8.30am and I have had my breakfast of nasi goreng and we launched into our seminar titled, “Caring for the Caregiver”; a workshop aimed at developing the skills of the orphanage management and staff. There were 46 participants and within minutes they made everything better. They smiled, they laughed, they broke out in song, and they broke out in prayer. They were interested, engaged, willing to learn, share and improve. They were the reasons we do this thing. They are the reasons we give up our time, leave family for the weekend, the reason why we forget all the hassles and put up our hand to do it again.
Forty-six people I am now lucky to call friends, gave up their time to listen to and work with two guys from another world which is about as far removed from their own as you can get. It was an honour to spend time with them and share in their hopes, challenges, pain, and to experience their desire to do something for kids who have even less than they do, which isn’t a whole lot.
So I come back to: why do we do this? I can tell you why; it is because we love to learn, too. These 46 people, with limited education and an abundance of courage, taught me as much, if not more than we set about to teach them in those three days.
Why do we do this? We do this because it matters, developing people and at the same time developing yourself is an amazing experience and it is why we were the lucky ones to work that out and be educators. That’s why we do this.
