So Saudi Arabia is hot. It’s sandy too. Like really sandy. We live on a compound that serves as somewhat of an oasis in terms of green space and amenities. The compound kind of exists within a bubble. It’s a proverbial snow globe of plenty within a desert landscape in some ways. However, there are some aspects of living in the desert that can’t be insulated within the confines of our concrete walls.
On our first day of school pre-planning, we wrapped up a long day of professional development, classroom prep, and lesson planning. My classroom is kind of tucked into a corner of the campus, with outdoor entrances on two walls. Two walls are entirely glass, which allows a lot of natural light into my classroom. The Social Studies area serves as kind of an outdoor hallway. The location’s relevance in this case, is depending on the time of the day, the front of the building obscures a bit of the sunlight that comes into my room. On this particular day, I noticed a clear absence of sunlight. I packed up my things and went outside to go get Shannon so we could go home and after stepping four feet outside, I realized that we were in the middle of some sort of MILD sandstorm. It was dark, winds were whipping, visibility was low, and my nose and mouth were slowly filled with a dusty sand. It was clearly mild. Most Saudis would probably argue that it was nothing more than a light breeze flowing through campus kicking up the smallest amount of sand. But for me, this tiny amount of sand equated to the dulling of three of my senses. I couldn’t see well. I couldn’t taste anything but dirt, and I smelled nothing but dust. It was surreal. I fought through it and took the outdoor stairs to Shannon’s hallway where I found four teachers hanging out. They had been told not to go outside or leave yet by a custodian due to a sandstorm. Sweet.
The mini-sandstorm and the mini sandnados were pretty cool, and unique to me. But these are just two examples of the prevalence of dust and sand in our landscape. I obviously expected lots of sand, but I did not expect the manifestations that we have seen. They were small events, but they got my wheels turning. About 80% of our whole campus is made of tile and glass. How was it even possible to keep everything so clean and pristine when sand whips up and covers everything in a moments notice? It would be like sweeping your front yard. Then, one day, in the morning, I got the answer to my question. I got to work early and found a fleet of maintenance workers driving tiny zambonis. They were kind of like John Deere riding lawnmowers, but zambonis. You know, the giant ice tractors they use at ice hockey arenas? They have a small nozzle that shoots water on the ice, then a squeegee to smooth it out as it passes over the area. The effect of the zamboni is that it fills the grooves and cuts in the ice with new water, and smooths it out so it becomes new ice again. Well they have those in Saudi for sand! These little zamboni tractors spray water on the tile ground, and mops the sand right up. It’s really interesting, and answered my questions about sand maintenance. That, in conjunction with constant washing, window cleaning, and wiping down keep our school pristine throughout the day despite the fact that we live in what essentially amounts to a sandbox with constant cross winds. Shout out to the maintenance crew.
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