My roommate is having troubles paying for his university education, which is all-around worrisome. He became my roommate when he was first having troubles paying bills. Prior to living with me, free of rent but including utilities, he was living at the pagoda.
He moved to the main town of Siem Reap from his village about 25 kilometers away. His parents are elderly farmers, and he has two younger siblings who are currently in high school. When he came to Siem Reap he was ambitious to find education. He received some training at the pagoda, which offered him a place to sleep. His English improved greatly and he was able to graduate from high school.
He then was selected to study at my workplace, which trains young, disadvantaged students in Hospitality. He trained in the restaurant and was near the top of the class. As he was nearing the time for graduation, our storekeeper at the hotel left his position somewhat suddenly. My roommate was offered the open position, which he took.
At that time, he was 22 and he needed to leave the pagoda, because he was already too old to be staying there without being a monk. So, then he moved in with me, and things have been fine as far as I knew.
We aren't the closest of roommates. We both spend a large amount of our time at work, and after he finishes his job, he goes to university. On his day off, he takes his motorbike home to help his parents with chores and on their farm. Sometimes we would grab a beer together, but lately he does not go out at all.
His expenses include half of the utilities (about $10), his university education, and his motorbike. He eats his meals at the hotel and I provide him a room. I was therefore a bit surprised when he told me that he would be unable to pay his half of the utilities this month. (He said he would pay double next month.)
I don't really care about the utilities. I have a roommate because I don't want to live alone. I want him to pay half of the utilities so that he has some vested interest in the well-being of the house. I was surprised because his monthly expenses are so low. He told me he didn't have any money because he needs to pay back the salary advance he took from the hotel and he also needed to pay for his siblings’ education.
This is worrisome, but I told him that we would sit down and discuss how he was going to manage his expenses so that he doesn't get burdened with debt. If it comes to it, we will talk about whether he needs a student loan. I haven't had that awkward conversation yet, but thinking about the situation, I can't help but wonder why there aren't better systems to provide student loans.
Why are there no merit-based student loans - ones based on your grades, university and major instead of solely on your current ability (or your parents’ ability) to repay? In the US, bank-provided student loans are pretty much just unsecured loan, often cosigned with a parent. Many students in the US rely on credit cards to pay for expenses, which is a terrible idea.
In spite of this, education is perhaps the best investment a person can make. The rates of return are higher than nearly any other investment (especially given the current housing market). It seems then, that loans should be given to students who have a high probability of success out of university, such as engineer and science majors.
Perhaps someone can provide some insight on this issue. I would certainly appreciate it.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Left-handed, not backwards-handed
I took five of my culinary students to a Korean bakery this afternoon for an interview. I don't think any of them have had much experience with interviews, outside of the one I gave them, in their village backgrounds. Interviews by their very nature are intimidating and unenjoyable. The added stress of undergoing an interview in another language must be even more painful.
However, the real comedy of the unfolding situation is that the person doing the hiring is the chef, not the owners. While the owners are cordial and speak fairly fluent English and exude the warmth that young Asian couple often do, the chef is a gruff old man with less English knowledge than my students. When he sits down in his chair to join the interview, his legs are set akimbo and his feet meet on the floor creating diamond of open air that showcases his crotch. His torso is pushed back a bit, but his face is aligned vertically with crotch. With his hands gripping the armrests, it looks as if he is ready to pounce and rip the jugular of every applicant at the table.
The young couple tries to temper his questions. I know from sound that they are speaking Korean, but in my mind it sounds like they are translating a Klingon war decree through a Federation mediator. Eventually, we finish with the formalities, and the nice young couple admits that they have no idea who to choose. This seems reasonable because the students all come from somewhat similar disadvantaged backgrounds. So I make the casual suggestion that the chef tests them in the kitchen.
That was overall a bad idea. It's not that the idea didn't work, but that it was so comically wrong. The chef had one test, and as far as I could tell it had nothing to do with cooking. The chef pulled out an egg from thin air (in retrospect he probably got it from under the table). He displays the egg in his left hand, with his arm positioned in a 90 degree angle. He is holding the egg like it is an item of power. Suddenly, he produces more eggs and non-verbally instructs the interviewees to do as he is doing.
Just before he passes the eggs out, he asks for a question to be translated. "Is anyone left-handed?" After some confusion, one of my students raises his hand sheepishly. The chef looks away toward the ground, a bit disgusted, and mutters something. The kind young Korean woman apologizes to my student and says that the chef will not hire left-handed cooks. My student is completely confused and I am just taken aback.
Immediately, the eggs get distributed to the students and they are asked to perform the test. The test involves holding an egg, in your left hand, with your forearm prostrate, and spinning the egg with your thumb and fingers. I have never seen this test before and only stare in amazement. After 45 seconds, the chef signals them to stop.
He thinks, with his index finger and thumb rubbing his chin. Then he speaks with the nice young couple and selects the two students that showed the most promise. They turn to a third student and apologize to him. They say that he demonstrated a great deal of promise, but that his technique needs more refinement. They encourage everyone to apply again soon, as they would be hiring more individuals.
The students who were not selected walk out a bit dejected. I couldn't blame them. The only thing that was going through my mind was WTF! A 45-second egg spinning test and eliminating my left-handed student, what kind of crazy Korean exam is that! Why not ask them to name a recipe or bake a cake? Why not give them a test that has something to do with cooking!?
I keep my cool though and try to raise the spirits of my students. I offer to buy them ice cream, which they refuse. I tell them that interviewing is tough and that you just have to put yourself out there if you want something. However, what I want to say is, “that was a ridiculous interview and you will never have to go through that again.”
But all's well that ends well. Two of my students got jobs and the rest of them will have incentive to brush up on their egg twirling skills. Except that left-handed kid, he's just screwed no matter which way you look at it.
However, the real comedy of the unfolding situation is that the person doing the hiring is the chef, not the owners. While the owners are cordial and speak fairly fluent English and exude the warmth that young Asian couple often do, the chef is a gruff old man with less English knowledge than my students. When he sits down in his chair to join the interview, his legs are set akimbo and his feet meet on the floor creating diamond of open air that showcases his crotch. His torso is pushed back a bit, but his face is aligned vertically with crotch. With his hands gripping the armrests, it looks as if he is ready to pounce and rip the jugular of every applicant at the table.
The young couple tries to temper his questions. I know from sound that they are speaking Korean, but in my mind it sounds like they are translating a Klingon war decree through a Federation mediator. Eventually, we finish with the formalities, and the nice young couple admits that they have no idea who to choose. This seems reasonable because the students all come from somewhat similar disadvantaged backgrounds. So I make the casual suggestion that the chef tests them in the kitchen.
That was overall a bad idea. It's not that the idea didn't work, but that it was so comically wrong. The chef had one test, and as far as I could tell it had nothing to do with cooking. The chef pulled out an egg from thin air (in retrospect he probably got it from under the table). He displays the egg in his left hand, with his arm positioned in a 90 degree angle. He is holding the egg like it is an item of power. Suddenly, he produces more eggs and non-verbally instructs the interviewees to do as he is doing.
Just before he passes the eggs out, he asks for a question to be translated. "Is anyone left-handed?" After some confusion, one of my students raises his hand sheepishly. The chef looks away toward the ground, a bit disgusted, and mutters something. The kind young Korean woman apologizes to my student and says that the chef will not hire left-handed cooks. My student is completely confused and I am just taken aback.
Immediately, the eggs get distributed to the students and they are asked to perform the test. The test involves holding an egg, in your left hand, with your forearm prostrate, and spinning the egg with your thumb and fingers. I have never seen this test before and only stare in amazement. After 45 seconds, the chef signals them to stop.
He thinks, with his index finger and thumb rubbing his chin. Then he speaks with the nice young couple and selects the two students that showed the most promise. They turn to a third student and apologize to him. They say that he demonstrated a great deal of promise, but that his technique needs more refinement. They encourage everyone to apply again soon, as they would be hiring more individuals.
The students who were not selected walk out a bit dejected. I couldn't blame them. The only thing that was going through my mind was WTF! A 45-second egg spinning test and eliminating my left-handed student, what kind of crazy Korean exam is that! Why not ask them to name a recipe or bake a cake? Why not give them a test that has something to do with cooking!?
I keep my cool though and try to raise the spirits of my students. I offer to buy them ice cream, which they refuse. I tell them that interviewing is tough and that you just have to put yourself out there if you want something. However, what I want to say is, “that was a ridiculous interview and you will never have to go through that again.”
But all's well that ends well. Two of my students got jobs and the rest of them will have incentive to brush up on their egg twirling skills. Except that left-handed kid, he's just screwed no matter which way you look at it.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Untitled
I think I realized last night just how personally I take my work. What sparked it off was a two-minute conversation with someone I regard highly.
I was at an art gallery opening, enjoying the free food and drinks provided. Many of my friends from various NGOs were around. I ran into a casual friend who happens to have started a very successful NGO called Pepy Ride. (If you want to support their work, vote for them on the geotouism changemakers website here: http://geotourism.changemakers.com/en-us/node/16599/vote )
Anyway, we only spoke for about two minutes and she retold a friend of a friend story about how our programs were neither sustainable or effective. This was in regard to a time before I arrived, when the person running the program did not do a very good job. Nonetheless, I felt like it was a slight against me and my work thus far. It probably didn't help that the complaint mentioned two years ago is still somewhat valid today.
I could stop thinking about it all night and the following morning I wrote off a two-page response to explain the programs and defend my work. In retrospect, it was probably unnecessary. In fact, it made me feel a bit silly that I would get so upset and defensive.
My worry is that it points to a larger trouble which is that I am too attached to my programs. I have put a lot of time and energy into them, but at the end of the day I still have to realize that they are part of something bigger and separate from me. Also, I should know that the programs are not me, and that I have a life outside of work.
I know that whenever the time comes to step away from this job, the task will be quite difficult. For that reason, I need to be more conscious of the goals I am trying to achieve and the ensure that the final result will continue to live on in the next person who takes on this position.
-----------------
In contrary news, I will be taking over our bakery to try and turn our current losses into profits. Ideally, this bakery is supposed to make money for our school, not take it away.
Cons: I know little about business, I don't enjoy bossing people around
Pros: the learning experience, the smell of fresh bread
I was at an art gallery opening, enjoying the free food and drinks provided. Many of my friends from various NGOs were around. I ran into a casual friend who happens to have started a very successful NGO called Pepy Ride. (If you want to support their work, vote for them on the geotouism changemakers website here: http://geotourism.changemakers.com/en-us/node/16599/vote )
Anyway, we only spoke for about two minutes and she retold a friend of a friend story about how our programs were neither sustainable or effective. This was in regard to a time before I arrived, when the person running the program did not do a very good job. Nonetheless, I felt like it was a slight against me and my work thus far. It probably didn't help that the complaint mentioned two years ago is still somewhat valid today.
I could stop thinking about it all night and the following morning I wrote off a two-page response to explain the programs and defend my work. In retrospect, it was probably unnecessary. In fact, it made me feel a bit silly that I would get so upset and defensive.
My worry is that it points to a larger trouble which is that I am too attached to my programs. I have put a lot of time and energy into them, but at the end of the day I still have to realize that they are part of something bigger and separate from me. Also, I should know that the programs are not me, and that I have a life outside of work.
I know that whenever the time comes to step away from this job, the task will be quite difficult. For that reason, I need to be more conscious of the goals I am trying to achieve and the ensure that the final result will continue to live on in the next person who takes on this position.
-----------------
In contrary news, I will be taking over our bakery to try and turn our current losses into profits. Ideally, this bakery is supposed to make money for our school, not take it away.
Cons: I know little about business, I don't enjoy bossing people around
Pros: the learning experience, the smell of fresh bread
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
American Post
I made a point of not making any posts while I was in US. I figured that I spend my time on other things than being on the computer or watching TV. Overall, I think I did well on that commitment to myself. I didn't accomplish everything that I wanted to while I was in the States, but I think I hit the major goals, which were spending time with friends and family.
It was wonderful to be back, but also a bit strange, knowing that it would be a relatively short time before I was back in Cambodia. To start, it was a bit difficult to comprehend that I was even back – not physically, but as a state of mind. Periodically, I would compare things around me to things in Cambodia. Reflecting on the fact that the roads were so much nicer, that the buildings were so tall, that not all the people are Asian, you know, the simple things.
However, slowly, I started to notice the things that I love about the US: the bustle of a city, the sounds of street musicians, the taste of American microbrews (as opposed to the omnipresent lager of SE Asia), the way the Pacific Northwest is surrounded by astounding nature. Perhaps the greatest thing about the US, as I experienced it, is that it is so easy. It is easy to communicate, easy to get around, easy to buy things. However, the thing that I appreciate the most is that the problems are easy.
In Cambodia, small problems are endemic and point to larger problems. A cough that turns into a fever and then into malaria. A barely-funded classroom packed with children that points to a mismanaged school that points to pervasive government graft. That is not to diminish the problems of the US, but just to say that they are more manageable. The most complicated problem that affected me was downtown Seattle traffic. I even went on a police-ride-along with my best friend where we encountered an abusive boyfriend and two mentally impaired individuals who were. Although these sights were upsetting and point toward significant problems in US society, they still seemed small and conquerable.
That said, I don't envy anyone who is severely struggling as a result of this recession. However, I have come to realize that, for now, I do not need the easiness of the US. In spite of all the United States' comforts and fun, I am happy to be living, and sometimes floundering, internationally. Plus, I am comforted by the knowledge that wonderful family and friends and the comforts of the US will be waiting for me whenever I get back. Thank you.
It was wonderful to be back, but also a bit strange, knowing that it would be a relatively short time before I was back in Cambodia. To start, it was a bit difficult to comprehend that I was even back – not physically, but as a state of mind. Periodically, I would compare things around me to things in Cambodia. Reflecting on the fact that the roads were so much nicer, that the buildings were so tall, that not all the people are Asian, you know, the simple things.
However, slowly, I started to notice the things that I love about the US: the bustle of a city, the sounds of street musicians, the taste of American microbrews (as opposed to the omnipresent lager of SE Asia), the way the Pacific Northwest is surrounded by astounding nature. Perhaps the greatest thing about the US, as I experienced it, is that it is so easy. It is easy to communicate, easy to get around, easy to buy things. However, the thing that I appreciate the most is that the problems are easy.
In Cambodia, small problems are endemic and point to larger problems. A cough that turns into a fever and then into malaria. A barely-funded classroom packed with children that points to a mismanaged school that points to pervasive government graft. That is not to diminish the problems of the US, but just to say that they are more manageable. The most complicated problem that affected me was downtown Seattle traffic. I even went on a police-ride-along with my best friend where we encountered an abusive boyfriend and two mentally impaired individuals who were. Although these sights were upsetting and point toward significant problems in US society, they still seemed small and conquerable.
That said, I don't envy anyone who is severely struggling as a result of this recession. However, I have come to realize that, for now, I do not need the easiness of the US. In spite of all the United States' comforts and fun, I am happy to be living, and sometimes floundering, internationally. Plus, I am comforted by the knowledge that wonderful family and friends and the comforts of the US will be waiting for me whenever I get back. Thank you.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Trips
It is hard to believe that I will be back in the United States in less than two week. This time I will be in town for over a month, so I should have ample time to see just about everyone I want to see. My cell phone should be working so you can feel free to reach me there or at my e-mail address.
For the moment, I am preparing for a weekend trip to Vietnam. I am a bit nervous about going. As a citizen of the United States, I can't help but feel a bit guilty for the collective responsibility of our nation's actions. I imagine that if I were a middle-aged Vietnamese person (either from the North or South), I would be a bit pissed off about American backpackers lounging around my cities and beaches.
Although, I will be meeting up with a Vietnamese-American friend, so I hope that will smooth everything over. Also, I am super excited about eating Vietnamese cuisine.
For the moment, I am preparing for a weekend trip to Vietnam. I am a bit nervous about going. As a citizen of the United States, I can't help but feel a bit guilty for the collective responsibility of our nation's actions. I imagine that if I were a middle-aged Vietnamese person (either from the North or South), I would be a bit pissed off about American backpackers lounging around my cities and beaches.
Although, I will be meeting up with a Vietnamese-American friend, so I hope that will smooth everything over. Also, I am super excited about eating Vietnamese cuisine.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
I am not a triskaidekaphobic.
I thought about responding to one of those "I wrote 25 things about myself that you don't know; now I want you to do the same thing." If I had, one of the things that you would be surprised to know about me is that I have a fear of pandemics.
My fear is not of disease or even dying of diseases, but more that there could be some disease that spreads from person to person, indiscriminately debilitating and killing worldwide. The fact that you cannot see diseases and often the warning signs do not appear before it is too late compounds my fears.
In the second grade I was so afraid that HIV/AIDS could be spread from something as innocuous as a band-aid that my mother took me to the Puget Sound Blood Center to learn about blood and the risks of disease transmission. Sometime later, I saw a preview for the movie "Outbreak" and it scare the bejebus out of me [note: I don’t believe in jebus]. I had nightmares about killer viruses for a solid year. It didn't help that Ebola was a real and incredibly deadly disease.
(I finally saw the movie last year and it was quite stupid, but the world map of the pandemic's growth still freaked me out a bit. I think part of me is just afraid of negative things with exponential growth. I also have a fear of overpopulation and destruction of the rainforests that started when I was smaller.)
For the most part, I have been able to temper my fear of pandemics. I even took an epidemiology class in university which was thoroughly fascinating. However, the re-emergence of a flu virus like that of the Spanish Flu is particularly worrisome. The fact that individuals with healthy immune systems are more susceptible is also alarming.
Nonetheless, I am calm. In part, I am calmed by the knowledge that there have been no reported cases of the swine flu in Cambodia. But mostly, I am calmed because most people are acting hysterical. I am speaking specifically about the people in the blogosphere who cannot help but spread misinformation and flaunt their ignorance. There really is nothing quite like hysterical people to prove that you have a rational, perhaps even healthy, fear of something.
Fear is sometimes respect wrapped up in paranoia. Respect is a good thing, for we must respect the gravity of the problem if we hope to defeat it. I just hope they defeat before it reaches me.
My fear is not of disease or even dying of diseases, but more that there could be some disease that spreads from person to person, indiscriminately debilitating and killing worldwide. The fact that you cannot see diseases and often the warning signs do not appear before it is too late compounds my fears.
In the second grade I was so afraid that HIV/AIDS could be spread from something as innocuous as a band-aid that my mother took me to the Puget Sound Blood Center to learn about blood and the risks of disease transmission. Sometime later, I saw a preview for the movie "Outbreak" and it scare the bejebus out of me [note: I don’t believe in jebus]. I had nightmares about killer viruses for a solid year. It didn't help that Ebola was a real and incredibly deadly disease.
(I finally saw the movie last year and it was quite stupid, but the world map of the pandemic's growth still freaked me out a bit. I think part of me is just afraid of negative things with exponential growth. I also have a fear of overpopulation and destruction of the rainforests that started when I was smaller.)
For the most part, I have been able to temper my fear of pandemics. I even took an epidemiology class in university which was thoroughly fascinating. However, the re-emergence of a flu virus like that of the Spanish Flu is particularly worrisome. The fact that individuals with healthy immune systems are more susceptible is also alarming.
Nonetheless, I am calm. In part, I am calmed by the knowledge that there have been no reported cases of the swine flu in Cambodia. But mostly, I am calmed because most people are acting hysterical. I am speaking specifically about the people in the blogosphere who cannot help but spread misinformation and flaunt their ignorance. There really is nothing quite like hysterical people to prove that you have a rational, perhaps even healthy, fear of something.
Fear is sometimes respect wrapped up in paranoia. Respect is a good thing, for we must respect the gravity of the problem if we hope to defeat it. I just hope they defeat before it reaches me.
Friday, April 3, 2009
Worst day of work
Last Tuesday was probably the worst day of work for me, through no fault of my own. I entered work relatively cool-headed. I figured that the only disappointment that I would have to face would be jibes from my co-workers about losing the staff party. Instead, I received news that one of my students had been caught stealing an employee’s phone.
As the School Director, I got to sit in on the meeting where my general manager interrogated the student for an hour before dismissing her. As an added terrible bonus, I got to watch her cry streams of tears as she tried in the end to apologize and plead to stay.
When I looked up into her face, I felt as helpless as she did. I didn’t want this to happen in the first place, and I didn’t want this to be the outcome. I don’t think my GM wanted this either, but her hands were tied. She had dismissed a staff the previous month for the same offence.
As my HR director tried to gently coax the student out of the office, I could help but wonder if the situation would suck less if the student were one of the lower-performing ones instead of one of the best. I felt the sort heartache of betrayal, not that the now-ex-student had betrayed me, but the sort of cosmic betrayal that allows unnecessarily stupid and hurtful things to happen.
In spite of that feeling, and also feeling like I needed to cry and like I had been slapped in the face, I still had the responsibility to explain to the remaining students why this girl was dismissed. I tried to press on them the importance of respect; to respect others and their property, but more importantly to respect yourself and to make decisions like an adult.
Months or years later, I may look back on this as an important managerial experience or a good story to tell for an interview. Right now, my only feeling on the situation is that it sucks. I just had to kick out a student whose mother died in childbirth and whose father dumped her with his mother-in-law; a student who hadn’t made a mistake at school prior to this one; a student that I would describe as quiet but exceptionally friendly and helpful.
In spite of knowing that none of this is my fault, I can’t shake the feeling that I contributed to the overall suckiness of the situation. I also feel a great desire to set everything back in time and reverse what has been done, but I know that can’t happen. And knowing that I can’t change it sucks most of all.
I am going to take a long weekend and see a new city. Some friends said there was a circus there. I plan on returning on Monday and remembering that I love my job, even if not everything about it is lovely.
As the School Director, I got to sit in on the meeting where my general manager interrogated the student for an hour before dismissing her. As an added terrible bonus, I got to watch her cry streams of tears as she tried in the end to apologize and plead to stay.
When I looked up into her face, I felt as helpless as she did. I didn’t want this to happen in the first place, and I didn’t want this to be the outcome. I don’t think my GM wanted this either, but her hands were tied. She had dismissed a staff the previous month for the same offence.
As my HR director tried to gently coax the student out of the office, I could help but wonder if the situation would suck less if the student were one of the lower-performing ones instead of one of the best. I felt the sort heartache of betrayal, not that the now-ex-student had betrayed me, but the sort of cosmic betrayal that allows unnecessarily stupid and hurtful things to happen.
In spite of that feeling, and also feeling like I needed to cry and like I had been slapped in the face, I still had the responsibility to explain to the remaining students why this girl was dismissed. I tried to press on them the importance of respect; to respect others and their property, but more importantly to respect yourself and to make decisions like an adult.
Months or years later, I may look back on this as an important managerial experience or a good story to tell for an interview. Right now, my only feeling on the situation is that it sucks. I just had to kick out a student whose mother died in childbirth and whose father dumped her with his mother-in-law; a student who hadn’t made a mistake at school prior to this one; a student that I would describe as quiet but exceptionally friendly and helpful.
In spite of knowing that none of this is my fault, I can’t shake the feeling that I contributed to the overall suckiness of the situation. I also feel a great desire to set everything back in time and reverse what has been done, but I know that can’t happen. And knowing that I can’t change it sucks most of all.
I am going to take a long weekend and see a new city. Some friends said there was a circus there. I plan on returning on Monday and remembering that I love my job, even if not everything about it is lovely.
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