What does trash mean?” (Friday March 27, 2015)

        She sat on the broken chair next to the small metal gate: the only entrance in or out of school. I smiled and jokingly asked why she isn’t in class. She was late to my second period, but at least she showed up. Her string of Tigrigna is fast, harsh, disgusted. The director made her sit here when a boy ran off and someone had to watch the gate. (The guard was arrested the other day and they haven’t replaced him.) Her brown eyes are stone cold when she tells me she doesn’t want to be here.  I believe her.

       Another girl came. The first’s best friend but in a different one of my classes. We talked for a little bit, before they smiled, we exchanged “Salam ma-all-tees” (Peace for the Day), and I left the campus. The blue sky is a relief from the long day at school. I came for the entire first shift and the week hasn’t been easy. I am ready for a long, relaxing walk back to town. Then the first girl called out to me.

       I turn. Thinking she is just going to yell “Chow!” or something, I realize she is running to me.

       “What does ‘trash’ mean?” she asks seriously as she stops in front of me.

       “What?” I asked confused at the use of English and from the return from my daydreams.

       When she repeated the question she hesitated on the unfamiliar word, not sure if she is pronouncing it correctly. We’ve been together for 6 months. She knows sometimes it takes more than one try for either of us to understand each other, but repeating is okay.

       “Oh, uh,” I am confused, but continue, “It’s rubbish.”  Sometimes they know England’s English for a term so I often start there, but her tipped head in the like-that-is-any-better way. Looking around I lead to where some trash has blown against the school’s barbwire fence. “This is trash—it’s what we throw out.” I then give the analogy of a lollipop and how we eat the top and throw out the stick. (Side note: Lollipops are known as “lake-a-lake-as” and cost 50 Ethiopian cents or 2.5 pennies.)

       I know she understands when her face falls, but I’m not sure why. She yelled back to the other, using the Tigrigna word. The exchange a brief discussion. Disgust lined her voice. Anger tainted the response.

       I asked her where she heard this word. Thinking maybe it was in another subject class. Students often come up to me for random words after teachers assume they know the vocabulary. She looks at the ground. The strong, slightly stubborn individual I know isn’t there for a minute or two until she looks up at me again.

       “Teacher Solomon called me trash. He said I didn’t need to be at school.” She whispered in English as she searched my face.

       “No,” I say seriously moving to keep my eyes locked on hers. “No.” I gave her a hug that she came into gratefully. “You are not trash. You are good. You are smart. You are beautiful.” I translated as best I can and she nervously laughed.

       “Thank you.” She nodded into my shoulder.  “Salam maalltee, Teacher,” she showed a small smile before running back to her post.

       My blue day didn’t seem so cloud free anymore. The mud didn’t cross my mind. I walked in a daze over the rock and grass. I turned back and look at the school compound. Tiny speaks of teal uniforms move around. From here, I don’t know if it’s because of change of classes or students are skipping. What I do know is that there are other girls who probably don’t know what trash means or do . . . and  are thinking that is what they are.

       This week I’ve been harassed. A teacher I once considered a close friend has started to call me “forengi” (foreigner) for an unknown reason instead of my name. Daily I am reminded by someone young or old that my white skin and long dark hair is an anomaly. I hear the snickers and comments by teenage boys as I twirl kids or walk by, but don’t really understand. I’m not strong. I have buttons that get pushed to breaking points. But I am strong enough to know when I just need to reevaluate and reassess myself. I know how to put on a mask and smile in a crowd, when I just want to be alone. I can text friends simply asking for an encouragement without explanation and have a message within seconds (depending on network connection). Maybe that’s what I’ve gained from growing up: a tough shell to other’s words.

       But that tough shell gets pierced when those brown eyes fill up with doubt. And I see my own 15 year old self in them. The self that escaped into journals and books to avoid high school drama. The self that just wanted to be good enough for some appreciation. The self that was shy and wouldn’t talk during lunch with the upperclassmen her best friend decided to join.

       These two girls are a dynamic duo. Their energy, spirit, uniqueness has got me thinking weekly, “These girls would love Younglife camp!” They may be small, but they are full of 15 year-isms. The best part is: They aren’t the only ones. My female students are a varied treasure chest of jewels. There are those who are the first to raise their hands, those who only write out responses, and those who sleep through class. Girls that are the top of the class and those who are the bottom.  The smiles, jokes, handshakes, rolling eyes that I get from girls makes me crave a Girl’s Club (goal for next year). There are 1,043 of them at my school that I don’t have in class.

       Trash isn’t the only word I heard girls referred to today. Another teacher wanted me to talk to a student next to him who “has no brain,” is “stupid,” and “definitely has something wrong.” I’m not sure how her English is, but her comprehension was evident in her downcast, rejected stance and glance. When I commented that a majority of the students admitted into the campus after first period were females, the teacher next to me made a joke about domestic violence and that they are late because of chores. I didn’t laugh.

       How many other names are students getting labeled as which I don’t know or hear? How many understand and have that name pop up in their head when they start to think otherwise? Where else are labels and demeaning titles being hung like a crown of thorns on these princesses’ heads? Do they hear them as often as I hear the ones being called out to me? Who is telling them the truth?

       Words have power…no matter the language. Who speaks them gives them weight. Tone determines the mass of that weight. Repetition helps the weight stick.  Weight has consequences in terms of self-esteem, self-value, and confidence. It’s a matter of factors whether the consequences are positive or negative. Whether the power changes an individual for better or worse. What are your words really saying?

       Trash, according to the dictionary.com app, is either a noun or a verb. As a noun it is “1. anything worthless, useless, or discarded; rubbish 2.foolish or pointless ideas, talk, or writing; nonsense 3. a worthless or disreputable person 4. such persons collectively 5. literary or artistic material of poor or inferior quality 6. broken or torn bits, as twigs, splinters, rags or the like 7. something that is broken or lopped off from anything in preparing it for use 8. the refuse of sugar cane after juice has been expressed.” As a verb, it is “1. Slang to destroy, damage, or vandalize, as in anger or protest 2. to condemn, dismiss, or criticize as worthless. 3. to free from outer leaves of (a growing sugar cane plant) 4. to free from superfluous twigs or branches.” Are those the words you want your daughter, granddaughter, niece, mom or student to hear and believe as true? As a teacher, parent, friend, human do you want to be the reason someone feels broken, discarded, or worthless? What do you want to hear people say to you? I’m guessing all are craving the same thing.

       I have a new challenge for myself that I want to encourage others to take part in. Wherever you are in the world, fulfilling whatever occupation at any time of the day/night, give meaningful compliments. Tell the positive truth that you really want to them to know. People know when you lie so be honest. Repeatedly. Be blunt and say no to lies you see them starting to believe. Don’t just do it to the people you know, or those who are the best. Tell the person serving you coffee who might be having to pull an extra shift. Tell the person at church you don’t usually talk to who might be there just for the routine. Tell the girls. Tell the boys. Tell them definitions if you need to.

[Side note: Beyonce’s “Run the World (Girls),” Bruno Mars’ “Just the Way You Are,” One Direction’s “What Makes You Beautiful,” and the documentary “Girl Rising” are all great things to look into if you have great internet connection. They also make for great songs to play for English Day at school!]