On Sunday, team Ngawinegoro led a regency-wide teachers’ workshop. How we got the deal is still a mystery. But because it happened—I was there, it’s worth unpacking some fresh reflections.

Erin and I convened at John H.’s place the afternoon before. Aided by cookies, we hammered out a presentation in five hours (kira-kira). The assigned topic, “Teaching in America,” seemed too safe, so we exercised creative liberty to craft something more along the lines of “Communicative Teaching in America,” focusing on those tidbits Indo teachers could take away.

The workshop began at 8:00 AM the next morning.

At 8:10 AM a car arrived to pick us up from John’s house. We met the coordinator, had snacks, made small talk (“What did you eat this morning?”; “are you married?”; etc.), and looked over the game plan.

When we rolled into the Ngawi convention and fine dining center around 8:30, it felt like a police raid. Doors flew open, seats slammed down, and we hustled into a meeting hall with backpacks and props ajanglin’.

First thought: “Why does J-Ho get his own welcome banner?”

Second though: “There are lots of people here.”

The room sat about fifty teachers, all from schools scattered throughout the regency. We’d assumed they were part of an MGMP, one of the groups who regularly meet, share teaching ideas, and sing karaoke. But this group was a bit different, more of a professional organization that gathers for seminars, big events, etc. Maybe because they paid dues, these gurus also seemed unusually attentive and willing to try new things.

The workshop itself ran three hours, and we did our best to keep things bumpin’. Erin deftly won good standing with the little kids in the back; an adlibbed scramble for coloring materials kept them quietly busy as we moved underway. And not to be left out, the adults had their own fun. Our you’re-smarter-than-your-non-communicative-textbooks sell** required plenty of creative demonstrations (** = see end for details). And those creative demonstrations required plenty of active participants. Props included—but weren’t limited to—beach balls, Bieber lyrics, and a giant die.

Measuring success wasn’t easy, but evaluations lean towards the positive. To test, we gave our attendees a final assignment, “(1) Forget your textbook, (2) choose one activity you learned today, and (3) tell a neighbor how you can incorporate the exercise into a lesson plan for next week.” The result? Mild confusion. Well-rutted paths aren’t easily left, and despite their good efforts, our teachers mostly missed the J on application. In hindsight we could’ve provided stronger examples of applied LPs, but I don’t feel too put-out. Because at the very least, every guru gained exposure to a new teaching style and indexed at least one or two new activities into her “bag of tricks” (even if their application takes time).

On a personal note, I really needed this workshop. ID-5 is ten months into service, eight months into site, and things are starting to settle. Chaos is giving way to order, stress to “pfff.” But a new concern is moving into that vacated space. It’s called Secondary Project Angst, the desire to do something notable beyond teaching. Indo PCVs are ambitious, imaginative types. We want to do great things. And though the workshop was a good, much needed fix, I’m hoping it’s just the first of many chances to be a Volunteer, not just a teacher.

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** The Infallible LKS Myth: A Primer – The English texts commonly called LKS that are used in Indo classrooms often don’t deserve the paper they’re printed on. However, many teachers fanatically consider them indispensable. Why? Contributing factors include (1) prioritizing textual cheapness over quality, (2) lacking the language skills needed to detect heinous, grammatical crimes, (3) assuming textbook teaching is mandatory, (3) being reluctant to break from the pack, and (4) believing textbook teaching requires less work than working from self-made curricula.