Growing Up: Part 8 (Singapore)

“No man can order his life, for it comes flowing over him from behind . . .”  (George MacDonald)

One day a student stayed after class and told me about all kinds of strange phenomena at his home—things like levitating on his bed, voices and odd sounds, and the appearance of evil spirits.

I don’t know how much was true, but we checked with his mom and she confirmed that strange things were happening at the house. In fact, she asked for our help. We invited the mom and son to come to school so we could pray for them.

We prayed thinking we might hear an unusual voice or maybe something bizarre would happen, but nothing did. A few days later as I was talking with the mom on the phone, I heard the clanging of pots and pans. She said the strange sounds were happening again. Then I heard a deep angry voice come on the phone and say, “You can’t drive us out.” It didn’t sound like anything I had heard from the student.

I shuddered with fear then shouted, “The name of the Lord is a strong tower, the righteous run into it and are safe.” Those are the words in Proverbs 18:10. I don’t know why that verse came out. It’s more defensive than offensive in nature.

Around this time of having my imagination filled with dark images, Geetha and the girls went to the mall. It was getting late and Geetha wasn’t answering her phone so I started to get worried, really worried.

Then a question came to mind, “Do you trust me with your family?”

Instant relief.

I wish I had a dramatic ending to the story of the disturbed student, but I don’t. I don’t even remember what happened afterward. I think he may have left our school. I recently heard that he now has a successful music career.

A few years later I read a story about a church in Singapore that was being sued for causing mental anguish. The church leaders had concluded that a troubled woman was possessed by an evil spirit and performed an exorcism on her. She disagreed with their diagnosis.

I have since learned that the Catholic Church has a protocol that must be followed in these cases. The person must see a psychiatrist, then a medical doctor, and only then will the Church consider diagnosing something like demonic possession. I think that is a wise course of action.

Checkup

In 2007 I noticed a change in my body. I went in for a checkup then returned for the verdict. The scene unfolded just like in the movies.

As Geetha and I sat in the doctor’s office, he looked at me and said, “You have cancer.”

Geetha’s eyes welled up with tears.

A day or two later, we went out to eat. While having dinner I wondered about life: How many more times will I be able to go out to eat with my wife? Had it spread to other parts of my body? Was this the end?

The Sunday before my surgery we attended a Methodist Church. During the service the pastor offered a prayer for the community. He mentioned various needs in the congregation, including those with cancer. Then he prayed for the cells in our bodies to function properly. I was surprised that he prayed on the cellular level because that was exactly what I needed.

A couple days later I went to the hospital for my operation. After changing into the gown, I laid on the gurney, looking around at the other patients. Across the room I saw another Caucasian guy who looked older than me. We looked at each other from our horizontal position. I assume we were both thinking the same thing: I wonder why he’s here?

They rolled me into the operating room, showed me the gas mask, and said, “By the time we count to ten you will be sleeping.” They were right. I was knocked out and the next thing I knew I was waking up from the deepest sleep I had ever had.

Shortly after I awoke, a few visitors entered my room. One was the teacher who substituted for my classes. She said she had read the note I had written to my students in class and many of them cried.

Geetha says I immediately asked, “Which students didn’t cry?”

I then began two weeks of radiation. The radiation was localized and limited to about a minute per day, but it made me sick to my stomach. I have been cancer-free since then.

Although I didn’t lose any hair, I shaved my head completely bald to relate better with my friend from college. He was diagnosed with the same cancer at the same time, but his was more advanced.

Our school community was encouraging and supportive, including providing meals for two weeks.

Travel

Christian school educators don’t usually travel to exotic locations, but when Singapore is the starting point, travel is much more affordable. During our six years on the equator in Southeast Asia, we went to Bangalore, Phuket, Kuala Lumpur, Hong Kong, Bintan, and Bali.

Bali

Indonesia is an archipelago of thousands of islands and it is the largest Muslim country in the world. But the beautiful resort island of Bali is unique among its sister islands because it is primarily Hindu. On our first full day when we were ready to go to the beach, we learned that it was a Hindu holiday—Nyepi, the annual “day of silence” set aside for fasting and meditation. Locals stay indoors and tourists are prohibited from leaving their hotel complex. Maybe that’s why our flights were so cheap. At least our hotel had a nice pool.

Bangalore, India

In India we went to Bangalore, which is a capital city in the southern state of Karnataka, home to about eight million people. We visited Geetha’s aunt and uncle. As we drove to their home from the airport we heard the incessant beeping of car horns on the congested roads. I even saw many signs on the back of cars instructing drivers to “sound horn.”

Geetha’s relatives lived in a nice apartment at the end of a small road with chickens and dogs. Walking and driving around the city was a unique experience. We saw sheep, cows, and even an elephant on the road. Coming from spotless Singapore, the roads seemed especially dirty.

“Think how nice this place could be if they just put garbage cans on the road,” Geetha said.

As a white guy with an Indian wife and two young daughters, I’m sure we stood out. I don’t mind being the only white guy on a crowded street or in a busy mall. In fact, I have even noticed myself getting annoyed when I see another white guy. “What is he doing here?” I ask. I have to admit, however, that when my Indian wife, two young daughters, and I walked by groups of Indian men sitting on the curb and staring at us, I felt uncomfortable.

One day we went to a mall in Bangalore. As we walked through the food court, looking at the various stalls, we turned around and noticed that Talia, who was almost three years old, was missing. Time stopped while our hearts raced. We looked everywhere.

Suddenly, we saw her running toward us. We have no idea how she had gotten to the other end of the food court.

During this trip we traveled to the Kabini Wildlife Sanctuary, where we ate delicious food, gazed at a tiger in the wild and saw a tree “planted by Goldie Hawn.”

Kottayam, India

A couple months later I returned to India with a small group of teachers, including Jason, and twenty middle school students. We were going to an orphanage in Kottayam, Kerala. We landed around midnight then drove in a van down country roads.

Our driver had to slow down because of the traffic in front of us. Then we found ourselves in the middle of a Hindu procession with people wearing all kinds of strange outfits, dancing on platforms, and banging drums. Men wearing colorful masks, some dressed like women, were full of excitement. I wondered if they were drunk.

They began pressing their faces against our windows, looking inside, and pounding on the outside of the vehicle. I was in the front seat, trying to avoid eye contact as they peered inside.

I can’t believe we brought our students into this situation. Why did we take this road? I thought.

Then they began pushing our van, causing it to rock.

Eventually, the road cleared and we continued on our journey. To our students’ credit, they remained calm the whole time.

Recently, Jason asked me, “When have you been really afraid?”

I thought for a few moments, then said, “India, in the van with the kids.”

He agreed.

Ancient Coffee

The children at the orphanage loved being with us and were sad to see us leave. We played with them, ate with them, and taught them. When I told the story of Peter denying Jesus and the rooster crowing, a rooster actually crowed right on cue.

Every day, around 2 p.m., we enjoyed tea time—coffee and Indian snacks. We loved our hot drink so one of us asked a kitchen worker, “What kind of coffee is this?”

“Inchent,” he replied.

“Can you believe it? We’re drinking ancient coffee. This stuff is amazing!”

We talked about it for a couple of days.

Later we found out that he was actually saying “instant.”

Sunday Sermon

On Sunday I gave the sermon at a church with the help of a translator. We took off our shoes and walked into the sanctuary. Men and women sat on different sides. I talked about Jesus’ resurrection as I stood in my socks and asked a couple of our students to come to the stage to demonstrate something. After the service everyone enjoyed a meal of rice and curry.

Robbed

When we returned to Singapore we went out to eat in a food court. While eating Geetha realized that her wallet was missing. She had hung her purse on the chair while she ate. I was sitting directly across from her but didn’t see anything suspicious.

After concluding that we had been robbed, a security guard took us to a back room to review the video footage. We tried to find the camera that was focused on our area, but we were sitting in the one place that didn’t have video coverage. We called our bank and they told us that someone had already used our bank card to buy $3000 worth of jewelry. Singapore is extremely safe, but no place is crime free.

House Church

Around this time I began thinking about the nature of church. From the New Testament I knew that the first Christian gatherings were held in homes. Why is church so impersonal? I wondered. You go, don’t face anyone other than the pastor on stage, sit quietly, then leave.

House churches also have a monetary advantage. The first believers met in homes so they didn’t have to spend money on a building or a pastor’s salary. Isn’t that model better? I thought, so I began reading and talking to others.

Soon after, we joined a house church with four other families from our school. The meetings rotated to different homes and we always ended by eating together. I liked the casual nature because we all had the opportunity to talk. We enjoyed this fellowship for about a year. (If you’re interested, here’s my post on the pros and cons of house churches.)

A New Job

The 2007-08 school year was my fifth year as a high school teacher. I knew the stats that many teachers drop out before their fifth year so I was proud that I had made it. But after five years of teaching in the same school, I was ready for something different. Maybe that is my personality or maybe I was influenced by my environment. International schools are highly transient communities. Many people come for two or three years then leave. Change is normal.

I began looking for opportunities and had three options: high school Bible teacher in Buenos Aires, high school Bible teacher in Beijing, or stay and become the middle school principal. I decided to take the third option and signed a one-year contract.

I had worked with our head principal, Joe, for five years. He is the one who interviewed and hired me. Joe is a laid-back guy from Ohio. He reads novels on the beach, wearing a large straw hat. During our years working together, I walked into his office countless times uninvited and he always had time to chat and laugh at my jokes. Although I didn’t have training or experience as an administrator, he trusted me to take on a new role.

Conversations

As a middle school principal, I had many conversations with students, parents, and teachers. I learned that some teachers require more work than others. For example, first-year teachers need extra attention, which is understandable.

Others are advocates for change. Change can be good, but it requires careful planning, attention to detail, and clear communication. One teacher wanted me to remove certain books from the school library because she thought they were inappropriate. I remember Harry Potter books being mentioned. If we went down that road, however, we may also need to remove literature by C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien. Implementing this advice would lead to many complaints. After all, we were an open-enrollment school, which meant that students didn’t have to be Christian to attend. Most of all, I didn’t have time to go through every volume in the library. And for the record, my family and I enjoy the Harry Potter series.

I enjoyed talking to students in my office, but sometimes the conversations weren’t jovial. I remember a group of middle school girls all crying because one wouldn’t let another girl sit at her lunch table. I also talked with two boys who I found trying to choke each other after a ping-pong match.

Anger Management

People who haven’t spent all day every day in a classroom full of adolescents can’t relate with what it’s like. I’ve seen videos of teachers who have lost control and the comments amuse me. “How could he do that?” “That is the worst teacher ever!” They have no idea how easy it is to snap in that environment.

While serving as the principal, I was subbing for a teacher and one student was being especially obstinate. I gave several warnings, but he continued to show disrespect. Then I began walking toward him in anger. Then I stopped myself. Classroom management can be one of the hardest parts of teaching because you must first manage yourself.

Moving On

During the year as an administrator, I started to miss the intellectual challenge of teaching so I began entertaining thoughts of doing a PhD. Earning a doctorate would give me the opportunity to teach older students and dig deep into content. I applied to a PhD program at a school in Hamilton, Ontario and was accepted. Hamilton is about an hour from where I grew up.

On my last day, after six years at our international school in Singapore, I shouted “Bon voyage,” walked out the door then went home and cried. I didn’t realize how deeply that school had become a part of me.

Sometimes I wonder if we should still be there.

Part 9

Part 7