American International School of Muscat, Oman

Part of a series: Middle East, October 2023:

• Jordan—American Community School, Amman
• Jordan—Jerash (Greco-Roman ruins)
• Jordan—Dead Sea
• Jordan—Petra (Nabataean Arab city/archaeological site)
• Jordan—Wadi Rum (desert)
• Oman—American International School of Muscat
• Oman—Wadi Shab (hike/swim)

After a profound week in Jordan, I flew to the bottom of the Arabian Peninsula to speak for three days at the American International School of Muscat in Oman. 

I arrived on 10/15/23, then stayed in my fifth hotel in five nights (10/11 Amman, 10/12 Petra, 10/13 Wadi Rum, 10/14 Amman but only for a few hours because my flight to Oman departed at 2:25 am.).

As with my host Paige Spilles at the American Community School in Amman, I was blessed with a standout host in Ryan Callaway (who has worked with my Paige). He picked me up at the airport, took me to dinner with colleagues, invited me to play ultimate frisbee with staff in 100° weather, invited me to his home, and recommended/found me a guide for Wadi Shab.

The Israel-Hamas war was in week 2 but Oman is further removed than Jordan both geographically and culturally. I’m told there are few Palestinians at the school and in the country (not that only Palestinians have strong feelings about the situation). 

I felt no guardedness from certain students the way I did in Jordan.

As with ACS, I worked primarily with high schoolers: an assembly, a breakout writing or visual literacy workshop with each class, and a screening of Batman & Bill (for staff).

Thank you again to Ryan and TAISM for hosting me with such warmth.

American Community School, Jordan—two days after Hamas attacked Israel

Part of a series: Middle East, October 2023:

• Jordan—American Community School, Amman
• Jordan—Jerash (Greco-Roman ruins)
• Jordan—Dead Sea
• Jordan—Petra (Nabataean Arab city/archaeological site)
• Jordan—Wadi Rum (desert)
• Oman—American International School of Muscat
• Oman—Wadi Shab (hike/swim)

Whew, what a year in school visits.

In Taiwan in March, a trip in the works since before the pandemic, two of my three librarian hosts were unable to be there for my school visit because of unexpected, 11th hour developments—one due to a family matter, the other because she got COVID.

In Georgia in August and Texas in September, schools canceled me when I refused to omit the word “gay” from talks to elementary students. 

Then came an issue even more personal for me.

I am sharing it here because I feel it has the potential to be insightful and inspiring, as it was for some people directly involved. For others, it may instead be infuriating. 

The month before an October trip to speak at an American school in both Jordan and Oman and a side trip to see Israel for the first time, parents at the Jordan school were in a “fervor” when they discovered that I am on the board of an Israeli organization.

Except I’m not.

But I am Jewish. 

The parents were referring to my time serving on the regional board of BBYO, a Jewish youth group—yes, when I was a teenager.

This somewhat fraught situation was about to get even more complicated. I departed for Jordan the evening of 10/6/23, and while I was on the plane, Hamas attacked Israel, murdering about 1,200 people (primarily civilians) in a day and seizing more than 200 hostages.

In the Middle East, the weekend is Friday and Saturday. I was scheduled to present for three days at the American Community School in Amman starting on Monday 10/10. This would include three assemblies (elementary, middle, and high), a professional development workshop, and writing/visual literacy workshops for smaller groups of high schoolers (meaning I would see every participating high schooler twice). 

The night before, I was asked to join a Zoom with heads of school, none of whom I’d been in touch with before. 

They wanted to check if I felt safe and wanted to update me on the rising tension at the school, which has a significant Palestinian population. They also—understandably—wanted to know if I planned to mention the geopolitical situation that had gotten even more volatile overnight. I said no. They asked how I would answer if a student asked me about it. I said I would say it’s a valid question, though not a topic I was there to discuss, nor one about which I have any authority.

I appreciated their sensitivity on both fronts.

Earlier that day, an administrative assistant, who is Palestinian, was asked to read several of my books to assess them for content that could be problematic for their population. (Page 1 of Bill the Boy Wonder mentions that Bill Finger was Jewish.) The assistant wondered if the mention of Hitler (in Boys of Steel) would upset their (few) Jewish students. Otherwise the assistant expressed no concerns.

That same Sunday night, more than one anonymous account posted “Free Palestine” or similar comments under my Instagram posts related to Judaism.

The following morning, my first at the school, the administration received a petition from 127 parents who did not want my visit to proceed. They had seen and disapproved of my Facebook post of 10/7.

(With great disappointment, I called off my trip to Israel.)

Head of school Joelle Basnight saw this as a chance for the school to live up to its stated commitment to inclusivity. 

Unlike Georgia and Texas, ACS did not cancel my visit—which would have been the path of least resistance. And the stakes in Jordan were serious on a whole other level. 

I, too, was eager to carry on and prepared to compartmentalize.

I applauded and thanked the school—not on my own behalf but rather for the kids. I told staff how much I appreciated their courage—which I would repeat numerous times over the next three days.

Before each assembly, school leaders reminded students how to treat a guest. At least one teacher cautioned against ad hominem. 

However…students were allowed to opt out of attending. I said that I am not in favor of opt-out options. I believe we should require students to attend all events within a safe space, even those that may be beyond their comfort zone. 

The world is challenging. We do students no favors by trying to shield them from this.  

The subsequent discussions with teachers and parents are fertile opportunities for growth.

But due to the fragility of the circumstances, I felt in this case it was acceptable to offer an opt-out (not that it was up to me). 

I was originally told that 30 high schoolers chose to skip my talk, but later learned it was more. A few tried to walk out during the assembly, but staff stopped them, saying “You already made your choice.”

Some kids wore the Arabic headdress called a keffiyeh or hattah and/or shirts referencing Palestine. I did not feel threatened, but did not feel welcomed by that segment. I was told that students did not wear keffiyehs on Sunday, the first day of school after the attack, and instead started on Monday—the day I arrived. So it was indeed a statement aimed at me.

Of course I am not an official ambassador of Israel or the Jewish people. That said, I understood—emotions were in overdrive and we all have the right to support our communities. Some students have family members in Gaza. (The following week, after the 10/17 explosion at a hospital in Gaza, ACS closed for three days of mourning.)

The high school audience was virtually nonreactive. Typical teen behavior? More protest? Likely some of both. I was told that they would not get a Q&A session.

(The middle and elementary audiences, however, let themselves enjoy the presentation. They laughed and applauded at the usual cues. And I was able to answer questions.)

The high school breakout sessions were more charged—at first. Fewer kids, smaller space, nowhere to hide for them or me. But the material is engaging, if I may say so, and my approach, as always, shows kids I respect their intelligence and value their opinion. They warmed to me. We got our Q&A. I felt I had a few breakthroughs with Palestinian students.

After one session, a senior asked my advice on his college application essay. After another, a high schooler walking out with his friends turned back to me and placed his hand on his heart. This silent gesture moved me deeply.

Throughout my time at the school, to my surprise, none of the Jewish staff or students approached me and identified themselves as such. Indifference? Fear? Likely some of both.

A central element of who I am combined with highly distressing current events meant my hosts had to contend with more than they signed up for. I was frequently asked if I was still comfortable. My hosts answered hard questions and sometimes had to be the bearer of bad news. They thought of everything. 

Example 1: my hosts suggested that the division heads hold their pre-assembly debrief with students before they enter the auditorium—in other words, before they see me. That probably wouldn’t have occurred to me but seemed like a good call. 

Example 2: I used the same laptop for every workshop and one night we left it out in the library overnight; the next morning, my hosts suggested that I check my presentations before starting in case anyone had modified it. (No one had.)

On my third and final day at the school, I was told that a high school student, the child of a prominent politician, had told a staff member that after hearing her friends discuss the assembly, she regretted that she had opted out of it.

Despite the underlying feeling of unease, I felt the visit went smoothly. I did not directly hear a single negative comment or see a single instance of inappropriate behavior. I realize I was not privy to all that happened behind the scenes, but that is all the more reason I hold this school in the highest regard. 

Despite intense objection and fear of reprisal, they forged ahead as planned because they felt that was in the best interest of their students—and in the spirit of the school. 

This was bravery. This was conviction. This was leadership. 

Thank you yet again to ACS for showing how it’s done. 

I echo the sentiments of some of your staff who told me they feel my visit will have positive ripple effects beyond any academic boost from my sessions.

A primary goal of my school visits is to inspire students to speak up for whatever cause is meaningful to them—even when that is difficult. 

A primary goal of this school visit was to connect with kids one human to another and embolden them to view others not as symbols but as individuals.

Phnom Penh, Cambodia, including the Killing Fields

Part of a series: Asia, March 2023:

• Taiwan—Taipei American School 
• Malaysia—EARCOS conference (Kota Kinabalu)
• Malaysia—Survivor Island (Borneo)
• Cambodia—schools and history in Phnom Penh
• Cambodia—Siem Reap
• Cambodia—Angkor Wat/other temples

On 3/26/23, after a dream day on Survivor Island (Pulau Tiga off the coast of Borneo), I woke at 2:50 am for my 3:20 am ride to the airport for my 5:20 am flight to Phnom Penh. This would be my third week in Asia and my third country on the trip.

rotary design, Phnom Penh style

That it was, in more ways than one.

When I was there, the lows were in the high 70s, highs in the mid-90s. 

My Phnom Penh hotel, Baitong, was a form of a dream as well—no false notes. Wonderful staff, nicely designed, environmentally conscious, good food, the convenience of good food on site, cool rooftop for eating that food, a small bakery on site with nutless banana muffins (my favorite), even a tranquil “forest pool.”

It also had a second, more traditional pool...except for the fact that you could look up into the pool from the lobby.

Soon after settling in, I set out for what would be the two most emotionally challenging stops of my three weeks in Asia: the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum (formerly the S-21 torture prison, and before that, a high school) and the Killing Fields. 

I went in knowing virtually nothing about Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge, the Communist regime that tyrannized its own people from 1975 to 1979. For starters, I did know not “Khmer” is a term that some Cambodians use to refer to themselves and their language. And while I was familiar with the term “Killing Fields” (from the title of a movie I’ve never seen), I did not know that it refers to more than one site around the country, though it now seems obvious.

The prison was converted to a museum very quickly after the Vietnamese toppled Pol Pot’s rule. The place is almost unbearable. You walk throughout rooms where innocent people were tortured beyond human comprehension. In some spots you think you can almost still see the bloodstains on the floors and walls. At least 20,000 Cambodians suffered and were murdered there. The number known to have survived: 12.

barbed wire

dozens of displays of victims

some were kids

The photo on the wall shows the same room but with 

a victim. It was grotesque and profoundly sad.

As a child, this man survived the prison and now

sells a book about his experience at the museum.

I visited the most well-known Killing Fields site, Choeung Ek, which is in Phnom Penh. Also nearly unbearable.

Buddhist stupa with grim contents

For the next three days, I spoke at two schools: Canadian International on Monday and Tuesday, Australian International on Wednesday. Yes, an American speaking at a Canadian and an Australian school in Cambodia. That’s some kind of punchline in the making. Yet for now, it was only a fulfilling round of assemblies and writing workshops with a largely Cambodian group of young people. 

Though I’ve been to Asia multiple times before, including a similarly long trip in 2016 (that also included three countries, one of which was also Malaysia), this trip marked the first time I rode in a tuk-tuk (three-wheeled, motorized taxi common throughout Asia). It was how I got to and from CIS. With an app called Grab (comparable to Lyft), it was easy—and not nearly as loud or fast as I was expecting. The breeze was nice, too.

Thank you again to my hosts at both schools, Lisa and Stacy, for the enriching privilege of visiting your country. They took a chance on me on fairly short notice and I’m grateful. I was Stacy’s first in-person author since COVID, her first American author…and since she’s retiring at the end of the school year, her last author.

me and the Mekong River

My 2020 trip to Taiwan, 2023 style

Part of a series: Asia, March 2023:

• Taiwan—Taipei American School 
• Malaysia—EARCOS conference (Kota Kinabalu)
• Malaysia—Survivor Island (Borneo)
• Cambodia—schools and history in Phnom Penh
• Cambodia—Siem Reap
• Cambodia—Angkor Wat/other temples

In late 2019, the Taipei American School booked me to speak in November 2020. 

That didn’t happen. You know why.

The invitation was tentatively rescheduled for 2021, then with even less certainty for 2022, and finally for March 13-21, 2023—four days with elementary, three days with middle.

You’d think the pandemic would have maxed out the bad luck regarding this trip, but no…three days before my first day at the school, one of my three librarian hosts had to fly home to America for a family emergency. The day before my first day at the school, another of my hosts got COVID. After my second day at the school, my third host got food poisoning! 

I missed the first host altogether; the third was out for only a day and the second was able to return to work for my last two days.

On the other side of the luck coin, the mask mandate in Taiwan was lifted one week before I arrived. I was not looking forward to presenting with mouth covered four to six hours a day for seven days. (I realize that’s what teachers in Taiwan and elsewhere have been doing for nearly three years. Yet another reason to treat educators with reverence.)

It was all worth it. The school, the kids, the culture have all been so welcoming. Not once but twice, a stranger handed me coins to pay for a matter at hand. When I was running and was somehow unable to find the huge river that runs through the area, I asked a boy of about 14 who was riding his bike if he could point me in the right direction. He spoke little English but said “together”—then gestured for me to run alongside him. He took me to the river, then took a selfie of us, then went on his way.

In what quickly became my favorite (if unadventurously Western) local spot—a French bakery—a local couple came up to me and asked if I’m Marc. The bakery, my hotel, and the school are within easy walking distance of each other and these nice people knew an American author was speaking at the school. I clearly stood out. In fact, in most environments here (subway, restaurants, my hotel), I am almost always the only person in sight who presents as non-Asian. 

Cultural observations:

• virtually no public trash cans—or trash on the streets
• unbelievably safe; I walked through unfamiliar dark winding streets at night without concern
• uneven sidewalks; they’re paved or tiled nicely but can suddenly rise up or down
• in bakeries, you take your own item with tongs, place it on a tray, and bring that to the counter to be bagged
• 7-Eleven is more than a convenience store here; it’s the hub of life; people dine in, buy train tickets, pay bills, and more, and at times there’s one every few blocks
• many locals speak more English than they admit to
• I’m hearing little to no fear of China invading; as one Taiwanese person told me, “They’ve been talking about this for 30 years and nothing has happened”; this cover suggests otherwise:

My hosts said day-to-day life carries on without dread.

With some of my hosts, both staff and PTA.

The student population here was largely Taiwanese.

Many international schools I’ve spoken at have been more 

culturally diverse.  

Carol Youssif, middle school librarian, 

produces this clever newsletter and posts it

(you guessed it) in the bathroom.

Friends who have visited TAS ahead of me:

Peter Brown

Marissa Moss

Matt Phelan

Gordon Korman

Beginning my hiking exploration at Yangmingshan National Park in Taipei.

My first of three suspension bridges in Taiwan.

I loved the various styles of paths in the park.

I woke at 5:15 am to take a three-hour train from Taipei to

Hualein, then a 30-minute drive to Taroko National Park.

This is Taipei Main Station at 6:30 am.

My first trail in Taroko.

Due to the marble cliffs and other natural chemicals,

some of the water in the gorge is Caribbean/South Pacific blue.

Pacific Ocean

See who I met?

This macaque monkey.

My second (and favorite) of three suspension bridges.

(Third not pictured in this post.)

Can you spot my tour guide Ivan?

A monastery in the rainforest.

So yes, in one day, in one park, I encountered a rainforest, a monastery, gorges, suspension bridges, monkeys, and even the other side of the Pacific Ocean.

Yet more hiking: Tianmu Historic Trail, the start of which was a 20-minute walk from my hotel. After a steep, long set of winding stairs, you follow a flat gravel path along the forested mountain overlooking the city. At one point, a troop of macaque monkeys surrounded the trail, chattering. They are not aggressive but will try to snatch food (so I did not bring any).

The librarian who had to return to the States had been planning to take me to a new Jewish institution in Taipei called the Jeffrey D. Schwartz Jewish Community Center—indeed the first Jewish house of worship in all of Taiwan (but the second Jewish organization). 

Of an island of 20 million, fewer than 1,000 identify as Jewish. Schwartz is an American-born businessperson who has lived in Taiwan for the past 50 years and is married to a Taiwanese woman who is a popular entertainer.

This JCC is more than a synagogue. It’s also home to a museum of Jewish art and Judaica, a kosher culinary lab (AKA a restaurant), a mikveh (ritual bath), banquet and meeting halls, education spaces, and an apartment for the (Israeli/Orthodox) rabbi, his wife, and their six kids. (It is also not without controversy.)

Logically, my tour guide was a non-Jewish Austrian.

entrance

sanctuary 

300-person banquet hall

the kosher (meat) restaurant

largest mural in the building,

commissioned by a Chilean artist

and bursting with symbolism

rooftop courtyard for the sukkah and

(eventually) weddings and other milestones

I ran along this canal to the river I think is called Keelung.

I did not run into any poisonous critters.

Modern Toilet is...a restaurant.

Speaking of toilets, my hotel room had its own

little library.

Some pizza had bizarrely

American toppings that you do not

even see in America.

Peanuts is popular here. I saw Snoopy

on many a T-shirt...and one bench 

(though it is not an exact likeness).

Turtles for sale.

This sign leaves little about hair removal to the imagination.

The sweet, handwritten greeting my hotel left me 

on my birthday.

Thank you again to librarians Brianna, Carol, and Mandy for the years of prep, the warm welcome, the overall wonderful experience. Thank you also to the many more who took care of me throughout including Ashley, Suji, Fantine, Cecilia, Rick, Becky, Erik, Kiley, Adrienne, Paul, Diane, Savanna... 

I shall be back.