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I’d noticed that some of my best students had learned English by watching movies and listening to hip-hop. If I could get my students in Palestine hooked on rap, they would teach themselves English long after I was gone.

By the time we’d seen every animal at least three times, saw every exhibit in the museum, ridden all the rides, played on every piece of playground equipment, and eaten all our snacks, the zoo was getting ready to close.  Surely I thought the children would be tired and bored by then, but they really never wanted to leave.  With all the fun we had, though, we promised each other, and the monkeys, we’d be back.

One of the girls came up with the idea of going to Qalqilya Zoo, which she said she heard was “heavenly,” adding that the monkeys there were reputedly hilarious, and that there was a great museum there, in addition to a playground of epic proportions. The matter was settled. We were going to the zoo.

Now, nearly 3 months after arriving in Palestine, I thought it time to talk about my teaching experience here. I was hesitant to give reports along the way, as my daily impressions were fluctuating wildly, one week I would be frazzled, ready to give up, and the next I would be totally rewarded and invested and generally feeling hopeful for the planet. Looking back, It’s hard to keep a handle on all that’s passed in that time, but like most good things it was incredibly harrowing, rewarding, validating, and made me grow incredibly.

There is a book about a ‘Western’ man that travels to a Middle Eastern country, Pakistan, and there he discovers this phenomenon, the rule of three cups of tea: ‘The first you are a stranger, the second you become a friend, and the third, you join our family, and for our family we are prepared to do anything – even die.’ – Haji Ali, Korphe Village Chief, Karakoram mountains, Pakistan. I thought this was a very sweet story, but until I arrived in Palestine, I didnt realise how true it was in Middle Eastern culture.