The End Is the Beginning

From the window of my study I see a father and son in tribal costumes settle a goat and two kids into the back of a pickup truck. The sonic eruption of the morning call to prayer has long died down, but since it is Thursday, and hence the beginning of the weekend, the road running through the Al-Khalew oasis that gives my neighbourhood its name is still quiet.

My past four years in Oman have been the most challenging time of my adult life, and yet I am painfully aware what a unique world I have experienced here. Unique, not only because of the nation’s strong traditions, but also because rapid economic development is changing the physical and social landscape. Whatever the difficulties of living and working at the friction point between ancient ways and modern means, I have been blessed to share this snapshot of a society in evolution. This is one of the things that makes teaching English abroad a persistently adventurous mission.

The last day at work was simultaneously deeply emotional and profoundly anticlimactic. So much so that after an hour of trying to write about it, I eventually gave up. With so many colleagues and students to whom I am so deeply indebted, no goodbye does justice to a long-standing professional relationship. Thanks to the multitude of online networking facilities, it is possible to keep in touch with these people who have been my surrogate family for so long. But of course, it will never be never quite the same.

The emotional load of leaving my job and home of four years aside, there remain several mountains to be moved in the coming month. Most urgently, an assignment for the final taught module of my MA remains. The course is Language Learning through Information Communications Technologies (ICT), the most inspired and inspiring I have taken yet. An explosive project is brewing at the back of my mind, but with the load of previous modules, and of course wrapping up and handing over my job, I haven’t quite made it concrete yet. With the deadline on 30 June, and my flight out of Oman at 5 AM the next day, things will have to happen very quickly.

In addition, there are the small matters of securing a decent new job with Critical Study-friendly hours and reasonable pay in a reasonably free society, tying up all logistics here in Oman, packing my home into two suitcases and preparing for my month in Europe. Though technically unemployed, I am certainly not under-occupied.

It will be a demanding month, but I am extremely positive about the open possibilities it offers. It feels extremely good to be a free agent again, if only for the ninety days until my next job begins. Just ninety days, but a great deal hangs in the balance.

After all, one of the perks of being a gypsy is licence to reinvent yourself and your life around the next corner. The end of one incarnation is the beginning of another.

Though the goat scene this morning was to far to capture clearly on film, another goat scene is attached. These goats were roaming outside the local supermarket here in Rustaq.

A Little Epiphany

Yesterday morning was the first time I actually accompanied trainee teachers to a secondary school in Oman to observe lessons being taught. What I saw in the school explained so much of what has been puzzling me in my work and studies.

The teachers we observed professional and polished, the classes ran smoothly and the students were astoundingly enthusiastic. What struck me most in the second class, was that despite the sharp receptiveness, ability and enthusiasm of the students, all that was required of them was one-word answers. “What do you eat for breakfast?” “Banana!” “Milk!” “Bread!” “Dates!”. The students obviously know their stuff and what to know more- why is this golden opportunity to develop and deepen language habits at a formative age missed?

Later asked a colleague about this, and she showed me that this is not, in fact, the procedure prescribed by the books. Although creative teaching is encouraged, certain procedures are required, to ensure that all Omani students reach a standard level when finishing school. Provided this goal is met, there is flexibility. However, many teachers do not successfully identify the objectives of the lessons, and hence do not meet them.

The legacy of this one-word-will-do teaching method is very clear in the language use of Omani tertiary students- and beyond. Even when these language learners are armed with abundant vocabulary, very basic grammar errors continue to crop up in speech and writing. When students self-edit their writing, I repeatedly see that they truly do not see these errors, even though they know the grammar rules governing them. Seeing that students’ language learning capabilities are so frightfully underutilised at an age where they have so much potential explains this phenomenon, and points out how unnecessary it is. What concerns me even more is that so many students develop the habit of not being stretched in their thinking, and it was terrifying to see this process in action.

National education does lay foundations for a nation, and this is one of the great reasons why it has played such an important part in Oman. The quality of those foundations play an inestimable part in the future. How do we ensure quality? This question is at the core of all the debate in education, and has no simple answer.

What I am sure of, though, is that it is not a one-word answer.