Blowin' by the wind

There is a Polish expression that roughly translates as: look where the wind has blown us. K and her mom used it with smiles on their faces during a recent road trip to Oman. It's handy phrase for moments like that, when you look around and think, 'Wow. Here we are--imagine that!' The nearest English equivalent I can think of is, 'We're not in Kansas anymore.' But the Polish phrase implies much more amazement, even gratitude. Look where the wind has blown us! Isn't it cool?

I thought of the phrase last night at the annual school choir concert. It was impressive and well done, as these things often are. The last number was a beautiful medley sung by the high school, middle school and elementary choirs about peace on earth. As the kids stood up in the soft glow of the spotlights, they represented about 45 different countries and half as many languages. It was a poignant moment that made me feel the sheer chance of being in Abu Dhabi at this moment in time with this particular group of students singing so sweetly.

I have been trying to characterize the community at my school for over a year now. It has proven elusive. Students and teachers are friendly and seem comfortable and well adjusted. There is very little tension or other strong emotions. On the surface, it appears stable, healthy and secure. Yet there is not a particular sense of closeness or deep bonds. The congeniality is not false--it's just not deeply rooted. But why should this be with so many genuine people gathered in one place?

Then it came to me. Almost every single person in Abu Dhabi, from grocery store clerk to CEO, is windblown, swept into town by choice or by chance. We live in a city of leaves, not trees, despite the emirate's attempt to green the desert. People arrive, they work, they look around, perhaps amazed and grateful for the opportunity, and then after awhile, they blow away. Back to where they came from or onto the next adventure. The school is the same. The choirs that sung last night will never sing together again (several students are leaving at the end of December, and more will be arriving). The same could be said for almost every quarter of the school at every level. The wind blows in, the wind blows out, and the community sways, swirls, reconfigures and moves on.

This week I officially decided to catch the wind back to the States this June. At the end of the day, my decision to leave Abu Dhabi after two years is related, in part, to the ephemeral nature of the place. I have a need to sink roots into a school where colleagues and students are committed to a common mission. For me, that mission needs to involve serving students who need it most, standing side by side with colleagues who feel the same way. I knew how important the first part was to me before I left. I didn't realize until I came here that the second part is just as crucial. As I've mentioned before in this blog (see several of the June 2009 entries), uniting with the adults in the community to care for children is one of the most powerful functions of education (and human experience, really). Being anchored by a common goal helps create this dynamic. Being windblown doesn't, especially when the children involved are grounded instead in families that can happily provide for their needs.

I will always be grateful for blowing over here for so many reasons (which I will write about in subsequent posts). And I always knew I'd leave eventually (as should be obvious from reading the paragraph above). In the meantime, I'm looking forward to swirling around for a few more months in the city of leaves.