What do I do in the summer, anyway?

Ever since I started teaching college, about 13 years ago, people continually ask what in the world I do all summer when the students are gone. 

The list is nearly endless.  Teaching-related usually comes stuff first.  My courses from the year need to be "put to bed," which involves making notes for my future self on what worked and what didn't, new ideas I had for next time, and lots of sorting and filing.  I also plan for next year's courses by reviewing those handy notes from my past self, new ideas I'd like to steal from colleagues and the web, etc.  I also catch up on e-mail (e.g., notes from alumni, administrative tasks), write reference letters, update my web pages, and read articles that I've put off all year.  For my dean-related stuff, I still attend planning meetings, review student evaluations for faculty members, analyze data regarding teaching and learning, develop an annual calendar (when various reports and contract recommendations are due, etc.), plan workshops, recruit mentors for new faculty members, review course syllabi, revise orientation materials, review faculty members' annual plans, etc. 

The beginning of summer is often hard because the main source of energy is gone: the students.  By the end of summer, though, I get used to the quiet and it's hard to adjust to having students come back with all their noise and excitement.  I suppose summer is like fasting, where the routine changes and eventually you get used to feeling hungry; when you start eating again it's hard to digest the food at first, but you quickly adjust and hopefully put into place what you've learned during the fast.

Back to work

It's been harder than I remember to get into the summer rhythm, perhaps because of the Nigeria preparations and trip. The long list of summer goals that I wrote up in May - when I was anxious to start tackling new projects -just doesn't interest me. Not much does right now.

So, I decided to care for my future self by putting my spring course to bed: sorting through my notes, handouts, scraps of paper with new ideas articles I thought I might use. I'm throwing out lots of old stuff course that I haven't used in years and re-filing things that belong elsewhere now (actually, they're living on a pile on the desk, to be re-sorted later).

My oldest son (14) came to work with me this morning, and we went through my dissertation literature review files - I haven't touched them in 13 years and they're hogging space. We got rid of 1.5 file drawers of stuff and some 3-ring binders; I also shredded file for faculty members who no longer work here. That felt very good to do - very cleansing, even if not the highest priority on the list.

Nigerian English

The official language of Nigeria is English, with most folks also knowing at least one tribal or other language. However, Nigerian English isn't always the same as American or even British English, which makes communication harder than it may first seem.

For example, I heard an entire sermon about seeking messy. King David and Apostle Paul sought messy and we should pray for messy and I was just lost trying to figure out why being messy was a good thing. Finally it occured to me that he meant MERCY, which put a whole new light on the subject.

Other pronuciation differences:
shell EN jez (challenges)
in NAW sheh (in a nutshell)
you ROPE ian (European)
pah REE luss (perilous)

I also noticed some grammatical differences. During praise and worship time (when the white guests of honor were seated at the front of the room and I kept sneaking peeks back to see what kind of movements and shouting I was supposed to be doing), we sang "I puts my faith in him." Another time, a speaker reported about a sizeable Templeton Foundation grant that he received and noted that "We clap hand and jubilated." Once, an impassioned speaker rhetorically asked the audience, "No be so?" and they shouted "Be so!"

I also found new meanings for words: snap (a picture), dash (a free gift), mineral (pop or soda). And some British words: queue (form a line), loo (high-class word for toilet or bathroom), boot (trunk of a car).

To get someone's attention across the room (remember, no one shouts here): SSSSSTTT!

I love that English is such a flexible and forgiving language. :)

Post-trip reflections on Nigeria

I have to admit to missing Nigeria. I miss the rituals of greeting and gratitude and acknowledgement instead of the blank/distant elevator gaze I'm used to with strangers in everyday life. Even the frisker-woman at Lagos (she was thorough, let me tell you - nary a lump or bump on my person was left unexplored) looked stern and severe when was I was beckoned to her lane for the public feely. Once I said "good evening, ma" and smiled, though, she brightened right up with a nice smile and let me know quietly that I had a shirt button undone. Nigerians seem to put on a stern face until you show yourself to be friendly, whereas Americans put on a relatively friendly face until they have reason to be angry or grouchy (which might not take much).

I also miss having men come from yards around to help with my bags (I rarely allowed it, but it was nice to feel watched-out for instead of being Strong and Independent all the time). In some way, I felt like a better person while I was there. I didn't get angry or feel petty or anything that's normal for me. Nick and I got along very well all week, until the minute we deplaned in Amsterdam. (I really wanted him to get over being grouchy so he could come see the people in cages --the glass smoking booths I've found while exploring on my own--and the man spraddled across 3 bench seats to sleep, with his head on his wife's lap, an armrest firmly entrenched in his private zone, and his legs lying on top of the next armrest.)

Have I mentioned the strange quaintness of Nigeria? It's like the ancient Greeks meet the single-cycle engine (the motorbikes could cause more lung cancer than cigarettes, though the bikes have the advantage of getting you there faster) and the cell-phone. My very favorite image, which captures these anachonisms, is probably the arts & crafts market in Abuja; several hut owners were having their roofs re-thatched with dried grasses being rolled on the ground while the salesfolks and customers wandered among the lizards in traditional dress (the people, not the lizards). Upon closer inspection, I noticed that one of the thatchers on the roof, while unrolling the thatch roll being tossed up by another worker, was simultaneouly talking on his cell phone. And a lizard was crawling up the hut wall against the city backdrop of cell-phone towers and construction cranes. Very, very striking.

So, I want to go back. But in business class, please. And plenty of cash and spare undies. :)

Arriving in US

Back in the US (well, the Detroit airport, anyway)! The flight across the Atlantic seemed twice as long on the way home as on the way there - of course, we got business class on the way there...

First impressions: clean, spacious, well-maintained facility; dependable electricity and toilet paper; clear paths to follow to get through border patrol, customs, baggage collection, and baggage re-check (I love computers and hand scanners - so much more efficient than waiting for folks to handwrite stuff and find a scrap of carbon paper every darn time). Much more diversity of people here than Nigeria(asian, indian, etc.), though I admit I can't yet see the subtle differences among the African tribes (Tiv, Fulani, etc.). It surprises me how much more casual people are in how they dress (mostly shorts or jeans, baseball caps, t-shirts), mannerisms (louder talking, slouching, bigger gestures, more joking around between gate staff and customers) and WAY more kids and casual travelers (probably folks on vacation) instead of business purposes than any non-US airport (Paris, Lagos, Abuja, Amsterdam). I still can't find my traditional airport soft pretzel, though. :(

Did I mention electricity? And outlets almost everywhere you look? I searched for an outlet in the Lagos airport yesterday; I could only find one by noticing a guy sitting right next to a standing a/c machine and plugging in his computer behind it. That's it. I love having outlets available and being able to assume they'll work around the clock.

Conference: presentation #1

A few words about the conference itself, since that was the presumed purpose for going to Nigeria.

Background: about 60 people attended; all are Christians in education (K-12 and college teachers, administrators, etc.). This was sponsored by ACSI (Association of Christian Schools International - a K-12 organization based in Colorado), IAPCHE (International Association for the Promotion of Christian Higher Education - Nick's organization for college teachers based in Iowa) and CIPCHEA (something something for the Promotion of Christian Higher Education in Africa - based in Kenya).

I was scheduled to speak on Tuesday on the topic of promoting excellent teaching beyond the "banking" model (lecturing).

On Monday morning, Nick mentioned that a couple of speakers had not shown up and would I be willing to step in with a talk about a Christian perspective in psychological research. I agreed (hesitantly), but he later said it wouldn't be needed. And then, at 2:00, he asked if I could do it at 2:30. So, while he gave his own lecture, I prepped mine. Not the kind of thing I love to do. It went fairly well, and I realized that a talk that could get me skewered on campus (not philosophically deep enough) was plenty for these folks to chew on. They're hungry for ways to think about worldview, and even my (relatively superficial) analysis of psychological research and the tensions it poses for Christians was very well received. Hooray!

First dinner in Lagos

Allow me to backtrack here.  We arrived at the Redeemer's Camp/Compound and registered for our room using US money, since we'd not had a chance to get local currency. The man seated at the little desk in the dark living room takes our money, writes out a receipt after finding a tiny scrap of carbon paper, and uses a calculator to figure our costs. He completely ignores the idle computer sitting on the corner of his desk.  Maybe it's just a knick-knack. Four other Nigerians sit silently in the small, dark, heavily curtained room, watching us.

Our driver/host shows us to our 2nd floor room/suite at this motel-like structure at around 6pm. He trips going up the stairs; so do I.  None of the steps are the same size and not all of them are square or level. I also miss seeing the two-inch step outside our room and trip over that. We later learn that this construction style is all over the compound - stairs and floors do not follow standard heights.  Such a little thing I've always taken for granted.

My first impression of our room is how plain it is - no art on the white sitting room walls, but a heavily cushioned loveseat and two matching chairs; a tiny coffee table with a basket of very plastic flowers, a dorm fridge (unplugged), and a modern TV (I learn later that the advertised 12 channels show the same thing: grey fuzz). The door to the bedroom is next to a window between the rooms, and I notice that the window is heavily barred with re-rod and has sheer and heavy curtains. The bedroom door has a lock with keys, and the closet has a lock with keys. All three external windows have re-rod bars. This does not say a lot about social trust.

My clothes have not arrived, but by God's grace I had packed a pair of black capri's and underwear in my carry-on. After using the toilet and soaking the hems of my travel-weary jeans in the surrounding puddle, I changed and we went to dinner in the next building in a room labeled Restaurant/Bar.

Nick knows many people here already from previous conferences, and they come to greet him and meet me. I cannot keep all these faces apart, and understand about every 5th word given the accented English, so I mostly smile and nod. I am thrown off by the greeting "you're welcome" and I automatically say "thank you," which seems backwards but is actually the right thing to say.

I am clearly the worst dressed person here, except for the kitchen staff. The women are in full traditional dress - brightly colored wraps and head scarves; the men are all in suits and ties. I notice that the wraps (skirts and tops rather than full dresses, I think) must be custom made - they are skin-tight from shoulder to knees, with no slits; the tops have zippers down the back. Glad I changed out of jeans, but capris and a cute cotton shirt still seem pretty low class here.

We are directed to a table with one of the keynote speakers (white American man who's lived/taught in Nigeria for 22 years) and a missionary (white Candian woman who graduated from Redeemer's University in Ontario a few years ago) - Nick knows both of them and chats away. The service of food is odd to me - food is brought to 1 person at the table. Then one person is served at another table. Eventually, once one's food is either cold or the others have urged eating before all are served, and if one has been brought utensils (also a one-person-at-a-time service style), one can finally eat. I learn that we have been served "white person's food," for which I am grateful: a broth soup, boiled potatoes, a chicken/mushroom stew, and some unfamiliar veggies. Bottled water to drink. So much for a bar. :)

I soon excuse myself and collapse in bed, which is comfy but has the fattest/densest pillow I've ever used. No blankets or comfortor - just a top and bottom cotton sheet. Switching on the wall-mounted A/C is wonderful for the heat, but gets too chilly for just the sheet. We alternate turning the AC on and off all night long - it doesn't come with controls for nuanced cooling options.