AIR CULTURE

I observed an ingenious exercise in cultural adaptation these past three weeks.  It was a creative part of the curriculum at Institute--like the personality test, the ethnographic study, the stress analysis, the chanting and incense, and the four-culture game.  Unfortunately, I think if our class didn't blow the learning step altogether, we definitely revealed some questionable adaptation skills.

Dentists & their families
always have beautiful smiles

Our new friends from Korea
who work in Chile

Take a few theology professors, a dentist, several school teachers, a couple of managers, a division president, quite a few pastors and the inevitable pastors’ wives that come with them, a nurse or two, a medical doctor, a music teacher, a number of double-tasking mothers with helpful fathers.  Put all 36 of us, several instructors, plus a few observers into the same room for 90 hours.   It was a cultural immersion of its own.

Our new friends from Norway

 I’m sure we all came prepared for summer in Brazil, in spite of the fact that we came from Fiji, Michigan, Norway, Papua New Guinea, Chile, Colombia, St. Kits Island, Maryland, England, Georgia, French Guyana, Washington State and a few other exotic places.

We met in a lovely room--part of the newest addition to the School of Education complex at UNASP (Adventist University of Sao Paolo / Engenheiro Coelho campus in Brazil).  Tinted plate glass windows covered one entire wall, a small carpeted stage and white board were along another.  Nicely arranged discussion tables filled the room, each equipped with nothing but a small Kleenex box.  In one corner sat the essential computer/projection technology of an up-to-date classroom.  And on the back wall, high above our heads, two large air-conditioning units loomed like...well, like jet engines.  They were there to condition our air.  At least that's what we thought. 

They also blew papers around, drowned out important lectures, took turns disrupting communication, created stiff necks and runny noses, and created the atmosphere for the most creative of all assignments. 

The classroom & the air units

Now, we spent more than just the 90 hours of class time together.  We also shared two or three amazing meals each day (depending on how much extra weight you wanted to carry home), an evening get-acquainted party, a cultural afternoon on the streets of a small Brazilian town, a shopping trip, a banquet spread, a talent line-up called “Mission’s Got Talent,” a family communion service, and a tearful dedication.  That's a lot of time together.

The Chief 

No matter how you look at it, the Institute presented us with a culture all of its own, along with the accompanying adjustments:  Getting to class on time when you’re used to being the one taking attendance.  Not talking when you usually have the pulpit.   Focusing when you’re accustomed to engaging others’ attention.   Listening instead of emailing.  (Chief?)  Cooperating instead of disrupting.  Journaling.  Turning in assignments.  On time.  Simple.  If the learning curve was a little sharp for some, the instructors were patient.

But we never quite mastered climate adaptation.  I think it was the hidden chapter of the Mission Institute curriculum:  Thinking atmospherically.  I wish I’d tracked what I came to call the “air behaviors.”   These are unique, invariable, individual responses to humidity levels, gnat quotients, fly populations, wind speeds, air temperatures and general atmospheric distractions.

Now that my passing grade has already been turned in to Andrews University, let me share a few observations:  

Those sitting in the back tables thought the room temperature was a test in contextualizing northern cultures and brought scarves, sweaters, jackets and hoodies to class.  Those sitting near the windows thought that they were being presented a lesson in living wholistically and felt we needed fresh air coming through the entire wall all the time.  On days they were trying to be accommodating, they sneaked a single window open a thin six inches as if nobody would notice they were still letting in fresh air and gnats. Those who sat near the classroom door thought every class was a test of their cultural openness to other air "conditions", and during break would graciously empty the entire atmosphere of our classroom out into the humid hallways of the School of Education.  Occasionally someone in the back of the room where the remote control resided, thinking we were there to learn something about the tropics, shut off the air units altogether.  

Everyone’s air culture is different.  I think that’s why the Kleenex box sat at each table.  One tissue can squish a fly, keep gnats at bay, wipe sweat, book mark your reading, rub cold arms, blow an icy nose, fan steamy air in circles,  and—if you simply can’t adjust to the culture of Mission Institute—wipe a few overwhelming tears away.

Thank you, Institute instructors, for predicting the hardest part of meeting a new culture.  I'm going to pack a box of Kleenex for Lebanon.