The Cup

I have been sitting in my office exhausted, ruthlessly critiquing myself.  I get compliments concerning the training, too many.  We have so much more to do.  Some see the cup as half full, some see it as half empty, Tc asks “There was a cup?”.

We have this new idea for keeping the curriculum sustainable but it’s going to take a lot of dancing to sell it.  There is the second year that the ministry would like to discuss. The pilot schools will be up and running in a couple of weeks.  The Japanese are coming in to help us and will need to be taken in as a full collaborator so the culture of the system must change to adapt.  And I am tired.  And I see my Peace Corps experience in a series of hotels and site visits and hours with spreadsheets, curriculums and a screen in my face.  I worked hard to get here.  Won’t someone give me a goddamn prize?

The happy warrior, Dustin the goat goad has sent me a picture.  He is riding a water buffalo in a mud hole in a beautiful green field in front of a cloudless sky.  He send me a picture like this every couple months.  He is having my peace corps experience.  Where’s my goddamn prize?

I then remember one of the games from the curriculum that the teachers really seem to like.  It is called The Cup.  An acting teacher taught it to me in a college required course. My teacher set a cup in the middle of the room.  We were to close our eyes and walk over and pick it up.  We had only one try.  None of us got it.  We would laugh at how far off we each were.  Then we got serious.  We estimated measurements and plotted the distance of steps.  We modified our scoop technique to cover maximum ground space.  Finally, on our third go round, a girl brushed the cup and we held our breath.  She picked it up and there was a cheer.  Our acting teacher looked at us and asked, “Why are you cheering? All she did was pick up a cup.”

I used it as an ice breaker with the consultants, to prepare us as a group for trouble. They insisted it be in the curriculum proper. 

The Timorese have many different takes on this game. There are some who bet small change that they will pick up the cup first, for them winning becomes important.  They plot and plan and bring all their resources to bear to accomplish the goal.   Some teachers understand the lesson as I did, we do our best with what we have and if we succeed it is not so different from failure, except in how we perceive it.  After all, there is always another cup.

 One of the teachers, in a well scripted evaluation letter, suggested that if the children were having trouble picking up the cup we should tell them to open their eyes.  And I thought, “Don’t be dumb if they opened their eyes the game would be too easy.” 

As I was sitting here being negative, wishing for my waterbuffalo, I thought of that suggestion again.  And it doesn’t seem so dumb.  I sit back.  I open my eyes.  I see the cup.