Raid for Contraband

While living in a developing country certainly has its advantages, there are also some major challenges. One thing I really like is that I can cross the street whenever I want, of course I run the risk of getting hit, but I'm at least allowed. But what doesn't kill me on the street just keeps me on my toes in the classroom. Teaching in a developing country also comes with a few surprises. The lack of organization and communication from administration with myself and the other native teachers has been an issue from day one, but it's something that I am, for the most part, used to by now. Typically, I find something out last minute, on a need-to-know basis. Last week, 15 minutes before the lesson was to begin I was told they were going to have me teach a different class. The week before, I walked into class only to find the geography teacher there and was told I no longer had that period. These things happen. Okay. Today reached a new height.

One of my most difficult classes consists of 20 sophomore boys. It takes some time to get them calmed down and ready for English class. Once everyone finally gets their books, sits down, and is relatively quiet, we finally bring things to order a solid 15 minutes after they should have been ready. Today was no different. Not until the middle of my lesson anyway, when there was a light knock at the door. Usually the knock at the door is another student late for class or some kid trying to cause trouble in the hall. But when I opened the door today I was greeted by three men in suits. The oldest man walked in the class room and told all of the students to put their hands in the air and proceed to the front of the room. I would have done the same had they shown a weapon but since it was a Deputy Principal I suspected it was one of the students that was in question. As I tried to figure out what was going on the other two men entered the room and began to search under the desks, in the cupboards, and in the students' bags. Even the students themselves were patted down making TSA appear friendly.

I was concerned they were looking for a knife or gun and did not want to see my students get in trouble for something so serious. What would they do if they found the contraband they were after? My mind started racing. Maybe that troublesome student threatened somebody else while on break from class. If the bloodhounds find something, what will this mean for my student? I was really worried. Then, right from the front row, out of Muhammed's backpack they pulled out a purple folder laying it open on the desk to reveal something tucked in a plastic sleeve. A Blackberry. Wait just a minute! They principal's detective squad is after a cell phone?! Muhammed is a good student; he's showing a desire to participate and improving his participation level. Embarrassed and ashamed he stood over his desk, eyes staring at the ground. He can't be in trouble like this! Did he do something illegal with this phone? The three raiders continued to dig through bags, pull books out of desks, and patt down--nay reach in and grab at--pockets. Then an iPhone 4 was placed next to Muhammed's phone, then a Nokia, followed by an older version iPhone.

After the invasion, six phones sat on the desk at the front of the room. The Deputy Principal gathered them up before leaving the room. The students threw themselves into a Turkish riot. I stood at the front of the room waiting for them to quiet down again, calmly running the timer on my own iPhone. I don't fight with their noise. A couple of minutes later I was able to get class going again but not without some confusion of my own. All that for cell phones! It would be helpful if the authorities could tell me next time so that I can anticipate their invasion. From what it seemed, somebody was in grave danger or major trouble but apparently having a modern cell phone is a crime validating the interruption of my lesson as if the Gestapo were running the school. Yes, I'm living in a developing country indeed.