Transcribing, Coding, and Drafting

I've finished transcribing, coding, and developing themes for my research...I've even just about finished drafting my lovely opus altogether, aside from the discussion bit.  So that's marvelous.  I imagine I sort of flew through the transcribing, coding, and drafting because of how interesting and exciting the work became.  I wrote just as much as my literature review contains, but it seemed to take one tenth of the time to write the results as the literature review because I just loved every voice I listened to, every word I read before paraphrasing, and I loved to witness the true results emerge through my coding, theme-developing, and paraphrasing of my informants beautiful words.  Throughout initial interviewing I remembered thinking, "How are all of these responses going to work together?  How will this be cohesive?  And how can I possibly report such complex ideas and findings?"  At the early stages of research, all of the observations and interviews felt muddled and somehow unrelated.  It was as if my eyes could only see what was directly one-inch in front of me at times, and coming home to my room at night was stressful as I tried to make it all relate in a meaningful way.  However, making it relate was simple, really, in the end, because now--having the perspective of retrospect and having a near complete experience of actually living among my population--I have the ability to paint a picture from this perspective of retrospect, this perspective of outside looking in, but when I look in, I'm in there too with them. 

Well the point is, thus far I've really enjoyed writing the results.  I've really, really enjoyed it.  And this experience at large has changed the way I teach and behave as a somewhat sane, ordinary human being (just kidding?) to a different, friendlier color.  I approach difficult situations with more ease, gratitude, and actually a bit of thrill, because everything I approached in India was difficult, whether it be teaching situations, training situations, or simply solving logistical problems threaded in my life there.  Most of all though, my understanding of universal, unconditional love is more powerful, firm, and everlasting than it's ever been.  Throughout each answer to my queries in the interviews there are traces of Buddhist love and compassion, which are really just human love and compassion.  Even though some of the things I witnessed and some responses were less than ideal, they were real, and there was always something human in them.  

I analyze and critique little and big parts of my professional practice and personal conduct daily and more thoroughly as a result of my thesis study.  Because it is a case study describing special education practices among a unique population, I was able to see inner-workings, designs, and purposes for practices that are already in motion in America, and the lack thereof among my population, as well as the results from the lack thereof.  And because of this sight, I am better able and faster to change practices for improvement, and with an added measure of reason.  After training the staff at Karuna Home and seeing drastic changes in such a short amount of time as a result, I became more "sold" on the research-based practices I've been implementing in my classes all this time.  With all of this considered, I think the most unique part of my research is that I was able to see a school running based on very few research-based findings, and the teachers' and administrators' concerns and complaints as a result, all of which served as a baseline for further research, but also evidence of need for research-based practices and most of all: continual professional development.  The staff at Karuna thirsted for knowledge unlike any other group of professionals I have ever encountered.  They didn't attend trainings or approach conversations with me begrudgingly, in fact they came more prepared than I did oftentimes: always early or on time with something to write with and on, and objectives, assessments, and what little forms of curriculum they did have in hand.  Every experience with them was humbling because of the gratitude and excitement I felt at them finally receiving answers to their questions and finally receiving an intervention idea to at least try.  Aside from having this new perspective on special education and the practices chosen therein, I am a changed being from living among the Tibetan Buddhist refugee teachers, students, administrators, caretakers, physiotherapists, sweepers, gatekeepers, cooks, and so on, and every day strive to recreate certain elements of what I saw and felt in those classrooms, the dining hall, the dorms, the community outings, and especially the playground.  Special education at Karuna Home may have its shortcomings, but one definite strength is the continual expressions of love and compassion between all who share the teaching experiences.  

From my experience there, I've learned to really love the practices I have and have increased my desire to develop, alter, and improve strategies all the time.  I've also learned to approach professional development with added seriousness and with an attitude of "I must learn something here, even if the presenter didn't intend for such," because in other areas of the world--of the country, of the state--people are starving for such an opportunity.  The professionals deserve it, but above everything the children deserve it.  This was something seen throughout all observations and interviews: the children deserve to reach their highest potentials with continual improvement of curriculum and instruction and professional practice, and all teachers at Karuna Home want this for their students.  But again, more than anything my desire to express love and concern to all I encounter in teaching situations and human situations floats to my consciousness more now than ever before, and so too have my actions increased.

This is it

Again, not about Michael Jackson.

Welp, you guessed it.  I don’t wanna go home.

I’ve spent every night these last 4 or 5 nights saying good bye to people I honestly love from the bottom of my heart, spirit, mind, and whatever other entity I have to love with.  These people were strangers to me three months ago, but now they're dear friends, which is problematic because they life in India! Here I am thinking, “Please don’t send me back to America, please,” when before back in June I thought, “Only 63 more days….only 62 more days….only 61 more days…” and so on.  Now I only have regret for those first few weeks about not taking greater advantage of my surroundings and wealth of blessings right before my eyes.

Today before lunch all of the staff and students gathered in the dining hall while I was presented with an award on behalf of  the founders of Karuna Home  for my volunteer work.  I felt simply grateful and happy until taking a group photo after which students one by one walked to me, some crying, most laughing, smiling and yelling, saying “Thank you” as they hugged me and shook my hand.  At this point I totally lost it by submitting to my emotions and crying publicly.   As I walked the corridors and classrooms of Karuna today, I touched each pillar and each face of the students’.  I gave kisses and hugs liberally and cried randomly as I would turn a corner, or hear a particular student’s voice.  On one of my walks down the corridor a sweet nun (my dear friend now) said to me, “Isn’t it nice to cry for something good?” It certainly is.  

Oddly enough, when I was waving from the car window to the teachers and students with whatever was left from the tears I had in my head, I felt so much pain at looking at the teachers’ eyes.  I took my time and circularly scanned each of their faces and hands and thought, “These faces and hands do such good work in the world.  I love these faces and hands.”  I really do.  I scanned their faces and took pictures in my heart that I will treasure always.  One teacher was holding on gently to a rambunctious student, smiling deep into my heart while she waved goodbye.  Another teacher laughed and cried and waved her hand like a butterflies wings with a twinge of bitter joy.  Another teacher simply stood alongside with his hands held together smiling silently.  Another teacher stood beside a pillar far away from the crowd blowing me kisses and signing, “I love you” as tears fell down from her gorgeous eyes.  Another teacher held a student’s hand and laughed, yet frowned as she said the words, “Good bye” and “Thank you.”  I can’t remember all of the staff’s faces perfectly, but I can tell you this: they had peace in their eyes.  I am choosing to remember the peace and gratitude that I witnessed instead of lamenting about the fact that I won’t be seeing these people for a long time, or possibly ever.  It's far too painful to dwell on such a fact because these people gave me a gift I can’t ever repay with any amount of teacher trainings or boxes of supplies: they gave me unconditional love and examples of true compassion and tenderness toward the human condition.  This I am grateful for (Yoda?).

The teachers use the behavioral strategies I taught in the trainings.  They actively engage in the teaching methods I taught.  These teachers even are using the data sheets and new objective format that I trained on, and they do it effortlessly.  One particular teacher often calls out to me from her classroom as I walk the corridors and says, “BB, come to my room, just one second!” I skip into her room with excitement to hear her next question and to see her progress.  She asks detailed questions about taking data, fading prompts, etc., and then she puts the knowledge into practice.  I could have never dreamed that my coming to India would result in anything that resembles what I’ve just described.  This same teacher has proven her diligence over and over again in other observations as well, as she uses positive behavioral supports like a champion, and without reservation!  She looks so natural in action.  All of the teachers look so natural in action.  All of the teachers approach me with specific pedagogical questions daily, and they arrange with me times to discuss questions.  I know it’s been said before, but this has just absolutely floored me time and time again.  These teachers who work tirelessly six days a week from 8 until 4:30 are approaching me for additional training.  Such humility and determination.  Never have I seen something like this in all my life.

The last moments in the classrooms today were spent sitting cross legged on the ground in my favorite chuba watching the students draw.  I sat among them watching their drawings progress, slapping my thigh repetitively saying, “Dang it!” as tears relentlessly gushed out of my face.  One teacher laughed and took a picture telling me to save some tears for later while the other teacher scolded her and said to put my attention elsewhere.  During this I noticed that two other teachers in the classroom were decorating the letters I wrote them with the art supplies and silently they wept.  I was surprised, yet grateful to see their love.

Well the car was started and the children were grabbing my hand yelling “Good bye!” and “Thank you!” and I continued crying, of course, while holding their hands with one of my hands and supporting my tired lonely head with my other hand against my chin.  It was a murky picture I took with my eyes today of the teachers’ faces, but it was a rainy, murky, loving, living picture I took that is etched into my heart forever. 

Thank you, Karuna Home.  Thank you, Rinpoche.  Thank you, Geshe La.  Thank you, teachers.  Thank you, physiotherapists.  Thank you, family and friends.  And thank you, students.  I love you and will think of you often and practice what you taught me as well.

Signed, Sealed, Delivered

The package has been delivered. 

Two teachers came to my room after lunch to help carry down the materials and when they saw everything on the floor they gasped and commented on how much stuff there was, but then were silent.  On the way to the classrooms I watched the teachers as they marched with two bags each over their shoulders like Tibetan Santa Clauses.  As we opened each bag and spread everything out the teachers were still a bit reserved making it hard to read whether or not the supplies I requested were useful or not.  We methodically sorted materials according to the needs of the students and teachers and made five piles: sensory class, 3 other classes, and physiotherapy room.

Finally when all the piles had been made according to classroom and teacher they thanked me (YOU) over and over and over again verbally and with expression and kept saying to especially, “Please tell your mother we love her and tell your father to ship you back to us soon in one of those FedEx boxes.”  I told them that wasn’t a bad idea and I’ll definitely try to make it happen.  After explaining that coworkers in special education had donated as well, they were so pleased, especially when explaining that Tyler had actually created by hand laminated rupees for a token economy system!  The teacher that opened this said, “Did any of the other teachers request these?” to which I said, “Not yet” and she responded jokingly with, “Well that means they’re all mine.”  Lastly I explained that SP Foundation (a respite care company in Orem, UT) had taken individuals with severe disabilities to stores all over town to find items on the list and that they actually picked and purchased supplies for Karuna Home.  It was clear by their expressions that this was so special to the teachers, and even to me as I said it out loud.  People with disabilities helped send supplies to other people with disabilities in another part of the world. 

Later the students came in and helped carry supplies to the different classrooms and they were all starry-eyed and excited.  One student clapped repetitively for about 15 minutes while giggling, while others put their hands in a praying position and said “Thank you, thank you.” 

During this experience I felt awfully guilty about being the only person to witness the teachers’ and students’ gratitude and as we sorted each item I thought of the person/people who took the time and effort to get it into that dang box to come to India and I was overcome with love for all of you.  I hope all those who have supported the Karuna Home and my time here know how I am daily overcome with love for you and would crumble without your support.  Or at least I’d be half as successful and double as lonely and unfulfilled. 

Thank you.

hampi

"the states"

My time in India is dwindling rapidly, which makes me feel totally out of sorts. The research has constantly been in motion, as I work closely with my informants daily in their classrooms and teacher trainings.  Even informal conversations and (participant) observations add rich information to my research.  Being involved in cultural programs and festivities gave me a whole other perspective on certain aspects of my research as well.  That’s enough about that, the point is time is running out, but the research is still going strong!  It will be exciting to better organize and analyze my data upon return to the states. 

I hate that I’ve adopted the term “the states” when referring to my homeland.  I’ve never been more aware than now of the fact that I am an American and I have a home and family in “the states,” which is a distant unattainable place to so many people.  It’s been strange to be constantly confronted with and reminded of my “nationality” or even this cultural identity I would have denied having until now.  Depending on the conversation, person, or moment I feel different each time I can say “I am an American.”  Many times I feel embarrassed, other times proud, and overall I feel like my being an American Mormon from Orem, Utah has been something that is finally interesting.  Never again will it be interesting, but for 3 months in India it was. J  I am an American. 

My privileged upbringing and living conditions have never been so apparent to me.  I’m not saying I constantly think to myself while fumbling around in the rubble of a ruined city and uncivilized people, “Oh I’m so lucky I’m so lucky!!” because actually I absolutely don’t, probably because I am not fumbling around in anything except lush shrubbery maybe, or once I fell really hard on a path while running through the farms.  I don’t feel like anything is ruined or uncivilized, in fact I constantly think to myself that these people are “so lucky, so lucky” in ways that are far more significant than temporal matters.  In fact, I’ll be losing a lot when I return to the U.S.  Here there is a sense of community, peace, selflessness, and general happiness that only exists in small conditional networks in my life in Utah.  Something must be written though regarding the fact that I may have acquired the gratitude everyone said I would about my life in America.  It isn’t the warm showers, toilets that are toilets, big fluffy beds, pizza at Nicolitalia’s, pretzel M&Ms, shopping malls and fast food, cars, movie theaters (oh, my gosh, did I tell anyone about the movie theater in Mysore?!?!  THEY BROUGHT MY FOOD OUT TO ME ON A TRAY), or any other American luxuries that I’ve grown an added gratitude for.  It is my students.  It is my parents, family, friends, and teachers.  It’s the sound of voices of the people I love and the examples they are to me of good human beings.  It is also education: books, libraries, media, discussion, art, music, etc. And okay fine I really am very grateful for pretzel M&Ms.

We went to Hampi last week and spent all day every day just bumbling around ancient ruins and Hindu temples. 

To read more and see good pictures, check out my friends’ blogs: 

http://beauhilton.blogspot.com/

http://britaroundtheworld.blogspot.com

No use rewriting history.  What in the world does that even mean?!

The box from “the states” (ugh) came Saturday but I’m unable to distribute materials to the teachers and students until Wednesday because today was a holiday and tomorrow we’re going on an outing.  The box was jam packed with wonderful supplies that these children and staff may have never seen before.  When opening the box and searching through all the giant bags I just kept pulling out one good thing after another and grimacing like a little girl on Christmas.  I’m sure the materials will have the same effect on the teachers and students here because I was excited and I don’t even get to keep any of it!  A very warm loving thank you to my mother and father, my dear friends, and my coworkers.  You’re all such selfless, lovely people.

small little preview, more to come

Birthday Celebrations

The Golden temple on 7.7.12

Sitting on a cinderblock for the sake of preserving memories.

It was His Holiness the Dalai Lama’s birthday on Friday, July 6^th.  After feeling a little melancholy over missing our American 4^th of July, this weekend was more than enough to make up for the loss. The celebrations were massive and dripping with cultural beauty unparalleled at any other cultural event I’ve attended.  It was actually my dream come true to sit right next to the stage two nights in a row with the Karuna children and staff through Tibetan dances, songs, and even Tibetan operas. 

            The first day, 6 July, we were at His Holiness’ palace in Camp 8 all day sitting cross-legged in fancy chubas with the sweet Karuna kids while watching performances of their native culture.  The slight 

Giving khata.

resemblance to Native American culture was quite interesting to me, and after this trip and especially after these performances I fear I’ll be partial to Tibetan culture for the rest of my life.  Several times I’ve turned to my roommate saying, “These people are the most beautiful people on the planet.  In every way.”  Maybe it’s a stage of culture shock, but I feel like I can no longer count on my fingers and toes the number of sincere acts of selfless, calm, peaceful kindness I’ve witness among the Tibetans.  A few times I’ve seen acts such as these and remarked, “In America, the receiver of this kindness would say in return, ‘Now how much kindness do I owe you?’”  Maybe not in America, but perhaps just my county culture, family culture, or maybe even myself! 

Anyway on His Holiness’ birthday we spent all day with my beloved Karuna people, and the evening was spent celebrating a teacher’s son’s birthday party at which he was swimming in those white scarves the Tibetans gave me on the day I arrived (khata) while sitting on a little stool accepting small gifts from friends and family.  After this we joined Rinpoche at yet another birthday celebration in Camp 8 at a cultural center that Rinpoche built for the camp.  Camp 8 is one of the poorest camps among the refugee settlements, so Rinpoche made a contribution by building a beautiful cultural center for the people to worship at. You know it’s work of Rinpoche and his wife because of the beautiful decorations, but straightaway you can tell because of the “Karuna pillars” that hold the construction up.  They are identical to the beautiful gray pillars holding up every roof and building at Karuna.  Well so we dined with Rinpoche at a front table overlooking the residents of the camp.  We were able to watch Rinpoche cut the cake for His Holiness and then place khata around a cutout picture of His Holiness above the cake.  When they brought us a piece of cake I whispered to Britney, “His Holiness is lookin’ out tonight.”  I was starving and the cakes along with the fabulous meal were pure gifts.

Dinner at Camp 8 with Rinpoche.

On 7 July, my roommate and I started out in India, I mean actually India: Kushalnagar.  It was dreadfully hot and we both dripped with sweat while we struggled up and down the streets in search of a massage parlor.  We miserably failed, but in the process ended up getting ice cream at least once (I, of course, stopped for another), seeing a dog with its brains falling out of the side of its head, and made good friends with an Indian rickshaw driver (who later that evening proposed to me) and two Tibetans from Nepal.  After Kushalnagar we went to the golden temple, and then to Sera, which are the most cherished couple of hours I have had since being here. 

Friends from Nepal!

Friends from Nepal 2.

 After strolling along Sera monastery and getting a few free rides around Sera Mey and Sera Jey (finally we seriously know there are 2 completely separate monasteries), we found ourselves in Sera Jey eating a meal free at cost with about a thousand other monks.  It was astounding to watch every person get fed a giant piece of sera bread, some vegetable-something-rather, mangos, and a juice box. I can recall at least four other times witnessing the Tibetans feeding tea, rice, and other food to groups of hundreds.  This first few times I thought with a smug impatient American look on my face, “Seriously?  Are they seriously trying to feed every single person here?”  After what seemed like only a few minutes, they successfully did just exactly that.  They indiscriminately fed every single person there!  The clean up wasn’t as successful as the feeding, but still!  The feeding happened. 

         

       

Feeding thousands at the palace.

Feeding thousands at Sera.

            At the Sera Jey monastery we saw performances again: Tibetan pop singers, yak dances, traditional Tibetan dances, and my personal favorite: the Karuna kids’ dances!! 

There are tears at every Karuna performance.  People love to see these students with special abilities show their devotion to the Dalai Lama’s cause, to the Tibetan cause.  I think they also love to see people with disabilities showing their different abilities.  Many have expressed shock at having seen how able the students at Karuna really are.  It’s inspiring for all those in the community, and all those out: me!!

Watching the show at the palace.

Sea of monks.

Yak dance at Sera Jey.

Watching the show at Sera.

            Before the show started, my roommate, Geshe La, and I were saving spots for the students at the front of the stage.  We sat there among a sea of red and yellow monks admiring the beauty of the event when finally I caught a glimpse of a familiar face: one of the Karuna teachers.  Following the teacher were several students, caretakers, and other teachers, all familiar faces that I love and realized I had missed even for just one day.  Seeing them happily march in to take their seats was like watching family arrive for a big Christmas party or family reunion.  In that slow motion moment of watching my Karuna family walk to their seats at Sera I discovered that these people are no longer my “trainees,” “teachers,” “students,” or “research participants,” they are my dear friends and family.  Leaving Karuna will be exciting, but miserable.  I also realized this summer will likely not be my last in India.