Saturday, January 31, 2004
When I walk into a classroom, there is this immediate scraping of chairs as the class stands and waits for my “Good morning class.” They respond with “Good morning sir,” after which I ask them how they are, comment on the weather or something and probably ask them why so many desks are empty, and then release them with “You may be seated.” Clearly the students are much more comfortable with me now, and I think they understand my Special English fairly well. For the most part I enjoy the teaching, even when I am scolding them. The scolding is usually because of late-comers, for not taking notes in their daftaris (notebooks) or talking while I am lecturing.
As I walk across the campus, almost every student greets me with “Good morning Sir” to which I respond “Good morning Mister (or Miss).” I use those titles in class also, when I call on students. I don’t think the TZ teachers do that, but I am this strange American and want to establish a different kind of relationship. I will have to ask the students if they notice and what they think about my using these titles. In my freshman year at Juniata College, old Prof. Binkley in his tweed jacket addressed all his students formally through his British bad teeth and clipped mustache. It made an impression on me about his expectation of the Student-Professor relationship and the academic process.
By now my students are answering in class, and it is no longer painful for most of them to be called on individually, although it still seems to catch them by surprise. I am sensing a big difference between those who grasp what is happening and the other, larger group that is in outer space somewhere. I hope the outer space contingent is not having simple language difficulty with my accent, but I can’t be sure of that just yet.
I am getting requests from curious students who are not in my class about America and why I am here. I like that. Class 2-B asked me to meet with them, and I plan to do that on Monday evening in front of the library. A couple of students in the grade above mine wanted help, and I invited them to come to my home yesterday evening and we worked through some organic chemistry questions they found on last year’s National Examination.
The first questions I receive are inevitably: Can you sponsor me or help me study in the US? and then What religion are you?, usually expressed as Are you a Christian? And the third reliable question is How do you compare American and TZ students and education?
My response to the first question is to ask them why they want to get to the US. The reply comes down to the understanding that it is a rich and powerful country. I agree that the US is a rich country but add that the costs of living there are also very high, and follow that up by discussing the difficulty of adjusting to a different culture, one that is less communal than that in TZ. Then I launch into my set speech about how they are the brightest students in TZ and that the US does not need them and Foreign Corporations do not need them but TZ DOES need them and they need to dedicate themselves to assisting the development of TZ. This leads to “But TZ is such a poor country and the politicians are corrupt and we cannot do anything about that.” They are then astonished at my reply that TZ is a rich country with all kinds of opportunities, and they try to prove how pathetic the opportunities are in poor TZ. To that, I ask them why almost all the shops, traders and businessmen in Mwanza are Indian immigrants, and I suggest that it is because India is TRULY poor, and those desperate Indians are coming here to work hard and take advantage of all the rich opportunities they see in TZ.
I repeat this patter so frequently I am beginning to think of it as the stump speech of a campaigning politician. I particularly like to needle the students at St. Augustine University across the street with it, as their specialty is Economics / Accounting. I accuse their institution of taking the brightest students in TZ and teaching them to be clerks for a government that is trying to REDUCE the people it employs, or for South African Corporations who are exploiting TZ’s resources for themselves. Then I launch into my view that a center of economic training should be emphasizing how to start businesses, and should be working with local people who are struggling because they do not know how to start or run a business and have never thought of cash flow and all the other problems that doom small business efforts.
Actually, I have found the one professor at St. Augustine who shares this view. He was born and educated in TZ, but taught in Zambia for 17 years until the political situation there really tanked two or three years ago. He took a big cut in life-style to return to TZ, and left his family in southern TZ to take this job up here in the north. I sense that he really misses his family, and I hope we can spend time together and become friends.
And I hope that together we can provide some help to Paul, who thinks he can afford to send his children to school if he can expand his flock of chickens from 100 to 400 but doesn’t have the money to build the larger chicken house. I borrowed a workbook on Making a Business Plan from the professor’s personal materials, and have been transcribing it so I can go over it with Paul. I know Paul will think all the detailed questions are so much unnecessary drivel – I did too, when I went through the exercise – but in the end they really ARE helpful and do force one to explore additional options and recognize potential problems.
As I walk across the campus, almost every student greets me with “Good morning Sir” to which I respond “Good morning Mister (or Miss).” I use those titles in class also, when I call on students. I don’t think the TZ teachers do that, but I am this strange American and want to establish a different kind of relationship. I will have to ask the students if they notice and what they think about my using these titles. In my freshman year at Juniata College, old Prof. Binkley in his tweed jacket addressed all his students formally through his British bad teeth and clipped mustache. It made an impression on me about his expectation of the Student-Professor relationship and the academic process.
By now my students are answering in class, and it is no longer painful for most of them to be called on individually, although it still seems to catch them by surprise. I am sensing a big difference between those who grasp what is happening and the other, larger group that is in outer space somewhere. I hope the outer space contingent is not having simple language difficulty with my accent, but I can’t be sure of that just yet.
I am getting requests from curious students who are not in my class about America and why I am here. I like that. Class 2-B asked me to meet with them, and I plan to do that on Monday evening in front of the library. A couple of students in the grade above mine wanted help, and I invited them to come to my home yesterday evening and we worked through some organic chemistry questions they found on last year’s National Examination.
The first questions I receive are inevitably: Can you sponsor me or help me study in the US? and then What religion are you?, usually expressed as Are you a Christian? And the third reliable question is How do you compare American and TZ students and education?
My response to the first question is to ask them why they want to get to the US. The reply comes down to the understanding that it is a rich and powerful country. I agree that the US is a rich country but add that the costs of living there are also very high, and follow that up by discussing the difficulty of adjusting to a different culture, one that is less communal than that in TZ. Then I launch into my set speech about how they are the brightest students in TZ and that the US does not need them and Foreign Corporations do not need them but TZ DOES need them and they need to dedicate themselves to assisting the development of TZ. This leads to “But TZ is such a poor country and the politicians are corrupt and we cannot do anything about that.” They are then astonished at my reply that TZ is a rich country with all kinds of opportunities, and they try to prove how pathetic the opportunities are in poor TZ. To that, I ask them why almost all the shops, traders and businessmen in Mwanza are Indian immigrants, and I suggest that it is because India is TRULY poor, and those desperate Indians are coming here to work hard and take advantage of all the rich opportunities they see in TZ.
I repeat this patter so frequently I am beginning to think of it as the stump speech of a campaigning politician. I particularly like to needle the students at St. Augustine University across the street with it, as their specialty is Economics / Accounting. I accuse their institution of taking the brightest students in TZ and teaching them to be clerks for a government that is trying to REDUCE the people it employs, or for South African Corporations who are exploiting TZ’s resources for themselves. Then I launch into my view that a center of economic training should be emphasizing how to start businesses, and should be working with local people who are struggling because they do not know how to start or run a business and have never thought of cash flow and all the other problems that doom small business efforts.
Actually, I have found the one professor at St. Augustine who shares this view. He was born and educated in TZ, but taught in Zambia for 17 years until the political situation there really tanked two or three years ago. He took a big cut in life-style to return to TZ, and left his family in southern TZ to take this job up here in the north. I sense that he really misses his family, and I hope we can spend time together and become friends.
And I hope that together we can provide some help to Paul, who thinks he can afford to send his children to school if he can expand his flock of chickens from 100 to 400 but doesn’t have the money to build the larger chicken house. I borrowed a workbook on Making a Business Plan from the professor’s personal materials, and have been transcribing it so I can go over it with Paul. I know Paul will think all the detailed questions are so much unnecessary drivel – I did too, when I went through the exercise – but in the end they really ARE helpful and do force one to explore additional options and recognize potential problems.
Saturday, January 24, 2004
The point of that last post was not to find fault with Tanzanian students, but to express my frustration at the way the system has locked them in. Life is so very different here, and I think it goes to the very core of cultural assumptions about the world and our place in it. Whoops: This is likely to get turgid here real fast – I think I am digging a hole for myself, and I’m not sure I will be able to crawl back out of it. Anyway, lets keep going:
In the US we assume that children want to learn, that learning is – well if not fun, at least interesting and engaging. So if a child is failing in school, that is the fault of the teacher, the teaching method, the system, the lack of parental involvement, failure to reach the child, or something else that we haven’t identified yet. Anyway, something outside of the child him/herself. No Child Left Behind and all that – Like, reward teachers based on student performance. So learning is made a game, and lots of different approaches are used so that the kids who learn by reading and those that learn by seeing and those that learn in groups and those that learn by themselves all have resources to support their individual style of learning. Motivation is done by emphasizing success. Put happyface stickers on good papers, make the average grade an 85 instead of 50, motivate with group spirit – sports and extracurricular activities and stuff. Provide bright colors and lots of light, and hang lots of papers and posters in the classrooms.
This works pretty well in the US except maybe in urban centers because we have so much money – resources – that we CAN keep our kids in school and can give them special tools and attention where it is needed pretty much on an individual basis. This all fits with our small class sizes and use of teacher’s aides and stuff.
In Tanzania, the motivation is negative instead of positive, and the feeling is adversarial. From the time they get up or arrive in the morning, students are told that they have not worked hard enough, or gotten to the parade ground fast enough, or about something else they have done wrong. And they are publicly punished and even caned for their infractions. Yesterday I was with the Asst. Headmaster at the entrance to the school driveway, which is loong. He met latecomers, and made them frog-hop all the way in. It was hard not to laugh at these kids squatting and hopping while carrying their notebooks as their shirttails came out of their pants, but gosh it must have been hard. One kid did not have the school emblem on his shirt and was sent home to return with his parents. Another boy was in serious trouble because his hair looked as if he hoped to put it in braids. Conformity is the expectation, and is demanded.
Resources are scarce. Most classrooms are amazingly dingy and very poorly lit. My Class D with 40 students has one fluorescent tube, near the back. The students stay in one room all day and the various teachers come to the classroom, so there are no wall hangings or posters. I teach five classes of chemistry. Five different rooms. Where would I hang a wall chart of the Periodic Table, even if I had one? Biology seems to have some large wall posters, but they are all old, faded, torn. We have maybe 25 outdated textbooks for 200 students, and the school library is not open in the evening when the students have required study time. How to parcel out those texts? How will the day students get a fair chance to use them? Well, life is not fair and the day students are pretty much despised anyway – tolerated at best, until the school can get rid of them.
So in Tanzania the basic assumption is that learning is hard, it is work. Few succeed. For a combination of academic and financial reasons – school fees are too high for many parents and there are increasing numbers of orphans without resources thank you HIV/AIDS – only some 17% of students progress from primary school (7th grade) to secondary school. Standardized examinations two years and four years later cull hard, so that finally only 1 or 1 ½% of those from the primary school level continue on to the university level.
The thing is, students buy-in to this system. They EXPECT school to be unpleasant and difficult. Kind of a purgatory. And as part of it, they EXPECT to be beaten. So it does become adversarial, in which all forms of cheating or avoidance of performance are appropriate. The student goal is not to gain information and education, the goal is to avoid pain however possible long enough to get through the system. So conform, or at least don’t get CAUGHT out of line. Our Peace Corps training stressed that Americans who allow too much “freedom” in their classrooms will lose control, because their students will interpret that as weakness. The students want to concentrate only on what will be on the next examination. Information from last year is ancient history unless it will be on this year’s exam also. Their evaluation of a good teacher is one who provides them with the questions that will probably be asked in the next big test and will help/make them learn the answers.
Expect them to THINK or see RELATIONSHIPS? Explore the world around them? They are told, under threat of public caning, NOT to read books except textbooks, or to listen to the radio instead of studying.
So there we are. And here I am, wanting to change that system at least in my classroom but with students who have no comprehension of what I want or am trying to do. To them it simply looks like I am unfocused and wasting their precious class time because they are not getting answers to what is likely to be on the next big exam.
I'm glad for Allegra and Fanny Ruth's assurances that I will be a good teacher in spite of this rocky start. Hope so. Glenn, what advice do you have for me?
In the US we assume that children want to learn, that learning is – well if not fun, at least interesting and engaging. So if a child is failing in school, that is the fault of the teacher, the teaching method, the system, the lack of parental involvement, failure to reach the child, or something else that we haven’t identified yet. Anyway, something outside of the child him/herself. No Child Left Behind and all that – Like, reward teachers based on student performance. So learning is made a game, and lots of different approaches are used so that the kids who learn by reading and those that learn by seeing and those that learn in groups and those that learn by themselves all have resources to support their individual style of learning. Motivation is done by emphasizing success. Put happyface stickers on good papers, make the average grade an 85 instead of 50, motivate with group spirit – sports and extracurricular activities and stuff. Provide bright colors and lots of light, and hang lots of papers and posters in the classrooms.
This works pretty well in the US except maybe in urban centers because we have so much money – resources – that we CAN keep our kids in school and can give them special tools and attention where it is needed pretty much on an individual basis. This all fits with our small class sizes and use of teacher’s aides and stuff.
In Tanzania, the motivation is negative instead of positive, and the feeling is adversarial. From the time they get up or arrive in the morning, students are told that they have not worked hard enough, or gotten to the parade ground fast enough, or about something else they have done wrong. And they are publicly punished and even caned for their infractions. Yesterday I was with the Asst. Headmaster at the entrance to the school driveway, which is loong. He met latecomers, and made them frog-hop all the way in. It was hard not to laugh at these kids squatting and hopping while carrying their notebooks as their shirttails came out of their pants, but gosh it must have been hard. One kid did not have the school emblem on his shirt and was sent home to return with his parents. Another boy was in serious trouble because his hair looked as if he hoped to put it in braids. Conformity is the expectation, and is demanded.
Resources are scarce. Most classrooms are amazingly dingy and very poorly lit. My Class D with 40 students has one fluorescent tube, near the back. The students stay in one room all day and the various teachers come to the classroom, so there are no wall hangings or posters. I teach five classes of chemistry. Five different rooms. Where would I hang a wall chart of the Periodic Table, even if I had one? Biology seems to have some large wall posters, but they are all old, faded, torn. We have maybe 25 outdated textbooks for 200 students, and the school library is not open in the evening when the students have required study time. How to parcel out those texts? How will the day students get a fair chance to use them? Well, life is not fair and the day students are pretty much despised anyway – tolerated at best, until the school can get rid of them.
So in Tanzania the basic assumption is that learning is hard, it is work. Few succeed. For a combination of academic and financial reasons – school fees are too high for many parents and there are increasing numbers of orphans without resources thank you HIV/AIDS – only some 17% of students progress from primary school (7th grade) to secondary school. Standardized examinations two years and four years later cull hard, so that finally only 1 or 1 ½% of those from the primary school level continue on to the university level.
The thing is, students buy-in to this system. They EXPECT school to be unpleasant and difficult. Kind of a purgatory. And as part of it, they EXPECT to be beaten. So it does become adversarial, in which all forms of cheating or avoidance of performance are appropriate. The student goal is not to gain information and education, the goal is to avoid pain however possible long enough to get through the system. So conform, or at least don’t get CAUGHT out of line. Our Peace Corps training stressed that Americans who allow too much “freedom” in their classrooms will lose control, because their students will interpret that as weakness. The students want to concentrate only on what will be on the next examination. Information from last year is ancient history unless it will be on this year’s exam also. Their evaluation of a good teacher is one who provides them with the questions that will probably be asked in the next big test and will help/make them learn the answers.
Expect them to THINK or see RELATIONSHIPS? Explore the world around them? They are told, under threat of public caning, NOT to read books except textbooks, or to listen to the radio instead of studying.
So there we are. And here I am, wanting to change that system at least in my classroom but with students who have no comprehension of what I want or am trying to do. To them it simply looks like I am unfocused and wasting their precious class time because they are not getting answers to what is likely to be on the next big exam.
I'm glad for Allegra and Fanny Ruth's assurances that I will be a good teacher in spite of this rocky start. Hope so. Glenn, what advice do you have for me?
Friday, January 23, 2004
THURSDAY 22 January
You know, I am failing these students. Their responses in my quiz were pathetic. Today I was jumping around the front of the room to imitate a lithium atom that wants to get rid of an electron. They laughed, but did not write anything in their notebooks - yet again - nor get the point of it.
Class C, for some reason, chose to write the exam into their notebooks and so had to turn in their whole bound notebooks for me to grade. So tonight I've been looking at their notebook entries from January (my teaching) and prior years. Ouch.
Their entries from last year are beautifully and painstakingly written, and complete. They read like a textbook - and that is exactly what their teacher last year must have written on the board for them to copy. Detailed. A treat to read, or study from.
Here this dumb American has been trying to INTEREST them in the presentation. Trying to get them to work with me to construct the LOGIC of chemistry, writing lots of analogies and disconnected drawings on the board to stimulate their THINKING and demonstrate how it ALL FITS TOGETHER. Accusing them of not understanding the material because they can't apply it in even the simplest of ways.
No wonder they don't respond in class. They DON'T CARE how it fits together. They don't WANT to apply it. They don't have textbooks. Learning is work, and they DO KNOW HOW TO WORK. And if they don't, they get caned with the fimbo out on the parade ground. Some motivation! So they want INFORMATION to memorize and quote back, never
No wonder they aven't been answering in class. Or writing in their notebooks. They don't CARE about how it fits together, and don't EXPECT chemistry to be interesting. They don't have textbooks. They think school is work, and they DO KNOW HOW TO WORK. And if they don't, they will be caned with the fimbo out on the parade ground. Some motivation! They want information to MEMORIZE and regurgitate on the next test. Never mind its application or utility. Analogies? Broad applications? Building blocks? Hah - just, what is going to be on the next test.
Ooooo Boy. I am not interested in copying textbooks onto a blackboard five times in a row so it can be copied by diligent scribes perched on hard chairs. That just feels too much like something out of Dickens - even if we don't need to worry about getting coal to heat our dingy classrooms here in Africa. Where IS Tiny Tim?
On top of all that, everything about my test itself was lousy. It was not weighted toward the most important concepts. I was carefully watching to be sure nobody copied their neighbor's work, but did not realize until the third class that many students had open notebooks on their desks the whole time. And after grading the papers, I find that now I only have papers from 60-75% of my students! So my class roster is wrong - the official one hasn't been typed out yet - or my rollcall was sabotaged, or many of the students simply didn't hand in papers. ???
I feel confused and rotten. The only good thing about this is that it happened early. I need some hand-holding and advice to figure this out and get it turned around. I want to go home. I want Myrna to hold me. I want ... I don't know what I want. I want it to be DIFFERENT!
WEDNESDAY 21 January
It is a beautiful night, and I had to stop to look at the stars as I walked down to the school tonight. Glorious Orion, with his bow set to shoot toward the Plieades, out past the galloping Taurus. Our students are expected to be back in their dingy classrooms for evening study between 8:00 and 10:00pm and I wanted to drop in to talk with them a bit about the I gave them today. The quiz had not gone well.
In advance, I had checked my quiz with another teacher, who thought it was just fine. Looking at the results though, my test asked questions that were redundant, so it was not efficient. But more disturbing, very few students were able to answer several important questions. We had spent gobs of time balancing equations, and I gave them a simple version of what we had done in class at great length. Only three were able to even start answering the question.
So I wanted some feedback. Not much help from Class A. There was this general shuffling and straightening up as I walked in and sat down on a desk. I tried to talk about the day and to make some small talk with them, but couldn't break through the formality of Authority Here, Flash Red. I was intruding on their space, and it was stiff and uncomfortable all around.
Class B came through for me. They say they do have trouble understanding my English, so I will have to try even harder to sp eaK slo wly anD maKe my final con so nenTs e ven more dis TinCT. I can't even imitate the Tanzanian English though - my tongue just doesn't move that way.
They also feel that we have been doing nothing but reviewing material that they had last year and when will we start the material they will be responsible for this year? They seem unconcerned by their poor understanding of basic material - that was on last year's tests and now they want to prepare for this year's exams. So we talked about the difference between understanding concepts vs memorization of facts, and the comparison of American and Tanzanian expectations.
I assured them that I do intend to cover the material they need for thier regional and national examinations. But we will need to compromise somehow on combining my American style and their Tanzanian expectations.
Good or bad, the quiz did shake up my students and that can only be for the best. They are suddenly requesting reference sources and textbooks. If they push me, good. If they want outside sources, great! Fortunately I have two copies of a second US text that parallels my own main reference, and at least I can place those in the school library. Two good references, for about 200 students. Better than none!
This afternoon while I was grading papers in my home, there were two little goats on my front porch. What DO you call little goats - lambs? goatlings? They would rear back on their hind legs and come down bang to butt heads and push each other, and then rear up again. It looked like a dance. I wanted to photograph this, but by the time I found my camera they had lost interest in the game.
Goats on my porch. Cows grazing on the soccer field - whoops, football pitch. This really IS Africa!
MONDAY 19 January
It rained a little this morning. Enough to help out my morning glorys and new vegetable seedlings, but not nearly enough for the corn my neighbors are depending on. The corn does look dry - the leaves on the cornstalks have that spiky look of pineapple plants. Not a good sign, in this country that does not have a safety net for a bad crop. The last several years were drier than usual, and this year seems similar. Hasan waters my plants every day, carrying water to them in a bucket. The morning glorys are doing great, climbing up their strings in my courtyard.
The day students get a bad rap. Poor students, don't show up on time, don't study, pull down morale. Yes, they have been showing up late for my first classes in the morning, and it interrupts the class. Today one forlorn soul showed up just as class was ending. No wonder they get poor grades. Often the daladala drivers will not allow them on-board because they do not pay full fare, so they just can't get here. The school largely throws up its hands, because it certainly does not have enough money to provide a bus. All the more reason to get rid of day students.
So today I asked why we don't switch some schedules so that the day students are not in the classes that meet first thing in the morning? This amazing suggestion seems to be a new thought, and the academic committee said they will consider it. Could a part of the solution really be that simple?
I think I am making a little headway in getting responses from my classes, but it is still difficult. They just do NOT want to contribute, and I often get the most surprised looks when I call on them. "Who, me?" Do these students sleep with their eyes open?
Today a neatly dressed man showed up at my door with a note. In broken English it explained that his brother had given him money borrowed from a friend so that he could have his ear treated at the hospital. Now he would like to give the money back to his brother to repay the borrowed money, could I or a friend give him Ts/20,000 please. Such requests are always come with a complicated story like this, and may or may not be valid. The children downtown who simply say "give me money" are easier to shoo away. But we are here to teach, and maybe to help the system in other ways if we can, but not for such individual assistance.
You know, I am failing these students. Their responses in my quiz were pathetic. Today I was jumping around the front of the room to imitate a lithium atom that wants to get rid of an electron. They laughed, but did not write anything in their notebooks - yet again - nor get the point of it.
Class C, for some reason, chose to write the exam into their notebooks and so had to turn in their whole bound notebooks for me to grade. So tonight I've been looking at their notebook entries from January (my teaching) and prior years. Ouch.
Their entries from last year are beautifully and painstakingly written, and complete. They read like a textbook - and that is exactly what their teacher last year must have written on the board for them to copy. Detailed. A treat to read, or study from.
Here this dumb American has been trying to INTEREST them in the presentation. Trying to get them to work with me to construct the LOGIC of chemistry, writing lots of analogies and disconnected drawings on the board to stimulate their THINKING and demonstrate how it ALL FITS TOGETHER. Accusing them of not understanding the material because they can't apply it in even the simplest of ways.
No wonder they don't respond in class. They DON'T CARE how it fits together. They don't WANT to apply it. They don't have textbooks. Learning is work, and they DO KNOW HOW TO WORK. And if they don't, they get caned with the fimbo out on the parade ground. Some motivation! So they want INFORMATION to memorize and quote back, never
No wonder they aven't been answering in class. Or writing in their notebooks. They don't CARE about how it fits together, and don't EXPECT chemistry to be interesting. They don't have textbooks. They think school is work, and they DO KNOW HOW TO WORK. And if they don't, they will be caned with the fimbo out on the parade ground. Some motivation! They want information to MEMORIZE and regurgitate on the next test. Never mind its application or utility. Analogies? Broad applications? Building blocks? Hah - just, what is going to be on the next test.
Ooooo Boy. I am not interested in copying textbooks onto a blackboard five times in a row so it can be copied by diligent scribes perched on hard chairs. That just feels too much like something out of Dickens - even if we don't need to worry about getting coal to heat our dingy classrooms here in Africa. Where IS Tiny Tim?
On top of all that, everything about my test itself was lousy. It was not weighted toward the most important concepts. I was carefully watching to be sure nobody copied their neighbor's work, but did not realize until the third class that many students had open notebooks on their desks the whole time. And after grading the papers, I find that now I only have papers from 60-75% of my students! So my class roster is wrong - the official one hasn't been typed out yet - or my rollcall was sabotaged, or many of the students simply didn't hand in papers. ???
I feel confused and rotten. The only good thing about this is that it happened early. I need some hand-holding and advice to figure this out and get it turned around. I want to go home. I want Myrna to hold me. I want ... I don't know what I want. I want it to be DIFFERENT!
WEDNESDAY 21 January
It is a beautiful night, and I had to stop to look at the stars as I walked down to the school tonight. Glorious Orion, with his bow set to shoot toward the Plieades, out past the galloping Taurus. Our students are expected to be back in their dingy classrooms for evening study between 8:00 and 10:00pm and I wanted to drop in to talk with them a bit about the I gave them today. The quiz had not gone well.
In advance, I had checked my quiz with another teacher, who thought it was just fine. Looking at the results though, my test asked questions that were redundant, so it was not efficient. But more disturbing, very few students were able to answer several important questions. We had spent gobs of time balancing equations, and I gave them a simple version of what we had done in class at great length. Only three were able to even start answering the question.
So I wanted some feedback. Not much help from Class A. There was this general shuffling and straightening up as I walked in and sat down on a desk. I tried to talk about the day and to make some small talk with them, but couldn't break through the formality of Authority Here, Flash Red. I was intruding on their space, and it was stiff and uncomfortable all around.
Class B came through for me. They say they do have trouble understanding my English, so I will have to try even harder to sp eaK slo wly anD maKe my final con so nenTs e ven more dis TinCT. I can't even imitate the Tanzanian English though - my tongue just doesn't move that way.
They also feel that we have been doing nothing but reviewing material that they had last year and when will we start the material they will be responsible for this year? They seem unconcerned by their poor understanding of basic material - that was on last year's tests and now they want to prepare for this year's exams. So we talked about the difference between understanding concepts vs memorization of facts, and the comparison of American and Tanzanian expectations.
I assured them that I do intend to cover the material they need for thier regional and national examinations. But we will need to compromise somehow on combining my American style and their Tanzanian expectations.
Good or bad, the quiz did shake up my students and that can only be for the best. They are suddenly requesting reference sources and textbooks. If they push me, good. If they want outside sources, great! Fortunately I have two copies of a second US text that parallels my own main reference, and at least I can place those in the school library. Two good references, for about 200 students. Better than none!
This afternoon while I was grading papers in my home, there were two little goats on my front porch. What DO you call little goats - lambs? goatlings? They would rear back on their hind legs and come down bang to butt heads and push each other, and then rear up again. It looked like a dance. I wanted to photograph this, but by the time I found my camera they had lost interest in the game.
Goats on my porch. Cows grazing on the soccer field - whoops, football pitch. This really IS Africa!
MONDAY 19 January
It rained a little this morning. Enough to help out my morning glorys and new vegetable seedlings, but not nearly enough for the corn my neighbors are depending on. The corn does look dry - the leaves on the cornstalks have that spiky look of pineapple plants. Not a good sign, in this country that does not have a safety net for a bad crop. The last several years were drier than usual, and this year seems similar. Hasan waters my plants every day, carrying water to them in a bucket. The morning glorys are doing great, climbing up their strings in my courtyard.
The day students get a bad rap. Poor students, don't show up on time, don't study, pull down morale. Yes, they have been showing up late for my first classes in the morning, and it interrupts the class. Today one forlorn soul showed up just as class was ending. No wonder they get poor grades. Often the daladala drivers will not allow them on-board because they do not pay full fare, so they just can't get here. The school largely throws up its hands, because it certainly does not have enough money to provide a bus. All the more reason to get rid of day students.
So today I asked why we don't switch some schedules so that the day students are not in the classes that meet first thing in the morning? This amazing suggestion seems to be a new thought, and the academic committee said they will consider it. Could a part of the solution really be that simple?
I think I am making a little headway in getting responses from my classes, but it is still difficult. They just do NOT want to contribute, and I often get the most surprised looks when I call on them. "Who, me?" Do these students sleep with their eyes open?
Today a neatly dressed man showed up at my door with a note. In broken English it explained that his brother had given him money borrowed from a friend so that he could have his ear treated at the hospital. Now he would like to give the money back to his brother to repay the borrowed money, could I or a friend give him Ts/20,000 please. Such requests are always come with a complicated story like this, and may or may not be valid. The children downtown who simply say "give me money" are easier to shoo away. But we are here to teach, and maybe to help the system in other ways if we can, but not for such individual assistance.
Thursday, January 15, 2004
THURSDAY 15 January
I just came from my last class of the week - I am not scheduled to teach on Fridays, hooray hooray. This was quite a different experience. These students were WITH me, and volunteered answers and could laugh with each other and with me without having that be some big trauma-thing. We covered more material, more effectively, and with lots more class involvement than any other group I've taught. I'm exhilerated. Good way to go into the weekend!
WEDNESDAY 14 January
Hey, actually taught three classes today. I was limited in some of my plans, because most of the students still lacked any paper or pencils. So no quiz. Actually that was a good thing, because instead I called a student to the board as a scribe and we all worked together to define and then balance a couple of simple chemical equations. This was a much better way to see what I am up against.
By the end of the classes, I think I was getting a little better cooperation from the students but it sure is pulling teeth. To give a shortened version of the sequence: Call on a student to identify the component in air that causes burning, given that air is mainly composed of oxygen and nitrogen and it is not nitrogen. No answer. What is air composed of? No answer. So air is composed of oxygen and nitrogen, right? No answer. Do you understand my English? yes. OK, then we just wrote it on the board right so read it off the board - what elements are in air? whispered, tentative nitrgn. RIGHT, now what else? silence. It is right up there, read it off. whispered oxyg. RIGHT, nitrogen and oxygen. So now which one causes burning, nitrogen or oxygen, and the answer is not nitrogen? No answer. Take a guess, you have a 50% chance of getting the right answer. cringing, whispered oxg. Speak up so the class can hear you. Standing up: oxygn. RIGHT Thank You. Oxygen causes burning. Shake hands extravagently with the student while the whole class erupts in relieved laughter.
Repeat this process several more times. It least, I did have the class' full attention and nobody fell asleep!
I think I did all this in a way that relieved the student's obvious and painful embarrassment in the end. I hope so. But we so clearly have to reach a point where the class will reason and respond and try things even if they aren't sure of an answer. We have to, or it will be impossible to cover the material of the course in any kind of a meaningful way. Or at least, that is what this American thinks. This is a tenth grade class!
TUESDAY 13 January
The first day of the new school term has finally arrived. The students came in small groups yesterday afternoon and evening, carrying small suitcases or backpacks. None were delivered by parents, and none seemed to have any of the paraphernalia so essential to American students. But then the dormatories wouldn't allow it anyway as there just isn't that much personal space there.
I was told that the day would begin at 6:55 sharp for flag raising at the Parade Ground. But it is Tanzania. At 7:00 there were two sleepy teachers in the Staff Room, and a student was lethargically sweeping the Parade Ground while brushing his teeth at the same time. Brushing your teeth outdoors is a Tanzanian thing.
Students began arriving about 7:30. Lining up took until 8:00, roll call to 8:30, after which the Headmaster talked for half an hour about not being late and how important it is to study hard. Last year Nsumba fell in its academic ranking against other schools and that shouldn't happen again. So don't read books or engage in activities other than your studies. If you don't work hard we don't want you here. Not exactly American-style motivation, there. Hitting is apparently a common - and expected - method of discipline and punishment here. Tanzanians find the American idea of never hitting a child absolutely incredible, and say that it could not work in TZ. The general attitude toward students seems to be that they are kind of a nuisance and have to be kept in line. Literally - lots of time was spent in straightening the lines there on the Parade Ground.
Boys wear white shirts with black pants and neckties. Girls: white blouse and black skirt. Shoulder patches correspond to what grade they are in.
The first activity of the new term is classroom and campus cleanup, scheduled to last until the chai break for tea at 11:00, after which we were to begin teaching. I went home to diddle around and returned to the Staff Room at 11:00. No chai. Teachers filed in and out, laughing and talking in indecipherable Kiswahili; I sat there writing a letter to Arlene and mumbling the expected I'm Fine (Nzuri, nzuri sana) from time to time whenever addressed. I started Arlene's letter on the back of an old PC paper describing Malaria Prophylaxis and it got pretty long, moving onto the front of the sheet and wrapping around the paragraphs on dosage and FDA approval. Hope she can follow it.
Finally the sickeningly sweet tea arrived about noon. A small collection was taken so somebody could go out and buy some buns to go with it. Dunking dry buns in the chai helps both the buns and the tea. The Staff Room was slowly clearing out. I asked Erasto where the teachers were going and was told that most were going home but a few were going to meet their students and I could do whatever I wanted.
I do want to meet my students, but have a sequence of how I want to introduce myself and then do some exercises and stuff. So I decided to wait until tomorrow, and left to take the daladala to Mwanza to do some stuff like returning the steam iron that didn't work.
The steam iron. I'd bought it three days ago, accompanying Kathleen who was trying to return a frying pan she decided she didn't want. Kathleen had a rough time - they have a NO RETURN policy, and the fact that the frying pan was in perfect shape and still had its price sticker on the middle of the pan didn't help at all. Especially since the manager was away on a two week trip and couldn't be reached. We just kind of hung around and didn't let the discussion die, and finally they gave up and returned her purchase price. We were learning how to deal like Tanzanians! My buying the steam iron helped, but they said they for sure DIDN'T want to see the steam iron come back.
But the damn thing just didn't work! Dead! Plug it in - nada! Just lay there on its back with its feet up in the air and its toes curled!
The store was NOT happy to see me come in with the iron. But they tried it, and lo and behold it still didn't work. But the POLICY. They looked for another iron - it had been the last one. No I didn't want a dry iron instead. Manager has to approve return. Manager away. Don't know when returning, maybe two weeks. Don't know where. Manager doesn't have phone. Don't know manager's number. Who would pay for the call? You should have tried the iron before you paid for it. Why didn't you try it first? Policy to always try electrical appliances first. Now big problem. Wait for manager.
After an hour and a half of this we called the manager on my cellphone. She answered, but wouldn't talk with us because she was in the middle of traffic. So now I kind of disappeared while there was this big hullabalu with shouting back and forth among the store personnel about whether to take back the iron or not. Finally they delivered a stern lecture to me, at length, about how you should ALWAYS try things in TZ before you buy them, and then they gave me my money back.
It felt like a success. And yes, I damn well WILL try all appliances in TZ before I buy them.
I just came from my last class of the week - I am not scheduled to teach on Fridays, hooray hooray. This was quite a different experience. These students were WITH me, and volunteered answers and could laugh with each other and with me without having that be some big trauma-thing. We covered more material, more effectively, and with lots more class involvement than any other group I've taught. I'm exhilerated. Good way to go into the weekend!
WEDNESDAY 14 January
Hey, actually taught three classes today. I was limited in some of my plans, because most of the students still lacked any paper or pencils. So no quiz. Actually that was a good thing, because instead I called a student to the board as a scribe and we all worked together to define and then balance a couple of simple chemical equations. This was a much better way to see what I am up against.
By the end of the classes, I think I was getting a little better cooperation from the students but it sure is pulling teeth. To give a shortened version of the sequence: Call on a student to identify the component in air that causes burning, given that air is mainly composed of oxygen and nitrogen and it is not nitrogen. No answer. What is air composed of? No answer. So air is composed of oxygen and nitrogen, right? No answer. Do you understand my English? yes. OK, then we just wrote it on the board right so read it off the board - what elements are in air? whispered, tentative nitrgn. RIGHT, now what else? silence. It is right up there, read it off. whispered oxyg. RIGHT, nitrogen and oxygen. So now which one causes burning, nitrogen or oxygen, and the answer is not nitrogen? No answer. Take a guess, you have a 50% chance of getting the right answer. cringing, whispered oxg. Speak up so the class can hear you. Standing up: oxygn. RIGHT Thank You. Oxygen causes burning. Shake hands extravagently with the student while the whole class erupts in relieved laughter.
Repeat this process several more times. It least, I did have the class' full attention and nobody fell asleep!
I think I did all this in a way that relieved the student's obvious and painful embarrassment in the end. I hope so. But we so clearly have to reach a point where the class will reason and respond and try things even if they aren't sure of an answer. We have to, or it will be impossible to cover the material of the course in any kind of a meaningful way. Or at least, that is what this American thinks. This is a tenth grade class!
TUESDAY 13 January
The first day of the new school term has finally arrived. The students came in small groups yesterday afternoon and evening, carrying small suitcases or backpacks. None were delivered by parents, and none seemed to have any of the paraphernalia so essential to American students. But then the dormatories wouldn't allow it anyway as there just isn't that much personal space there.
I was told that the day would begin at 6:55 sharp for flag raising at the Parade Ground. But it is Tanzania. At 7:00 there were two sleepy teachers in the Staff Room, and a student was lethargically sweeping the Parade Ground while brushing his teeth at the same time. Brushing your teeth outdoors is a Tanzanian thing.
Students began arriving about 7:30. Lining up took until 8:00, roll call to 8:30, after which the Headmaster talked for half an hour about not being late and how important it is to study hard. Last year Nsumba fell in its academic ranking against other schools and that shouldn't happen again. So don't read books or engage in activities other than your studies. If you don't work hard we don't want you here. Not exactly American-style motivation, there. Hitting is apparently a common - and expected - method of discipline and punishment here. Tanzanians find the American idea of never hitting a child absolutely incredible, and say that it could not work in TZ. The general attitude toward students seems to be that they are kind of a nuisance and have to be kept in line. Literally - lots of time was spent in straightening the lines there on the Parade Ground.
Boys wear white shirts with black pants and neckties. Girls: white blouse and black skirt. Shoulder patches correspond to what grade they are in.
The first activity of the new term is classroom and campus cleanup, scheduled to last until the chai break for tea at 11:00, after which we were to begin teaching. I went home to diddle around and returned to the Staff Room at 11:00. No chai. Teachers filed in and out, laughing and talking in indecipherable Kiswahili; I sat there writing a letter to Arlene and mumbling the expected I'm Fine (Nzuri, nzuri sana) from time to time whenever addressed. I started Arlene's letter on the back of an old PC paper describing Malaria Prophylaxis and it got pretty long, moving onto the front of the sheet and wrapping around the paragraphs on dosage and FDA approval. Hope she can follow it.
Finally the sickeningly sweet tea arrived about noon. A small collection was taken so somebody could go out and buy some buns to go with it. Dunking dry buns in the chai helps both the buns and the tea. The Staff Room was slowly clearing out. I asked Erasto where the teachers were going and was told that most were going home but a few were going to meet their students and I could do whatever I wanted.
I do want to meet my students, but have a sequence of how I want to introduce myself and then do some exercises and stuff. So I decided to wait until tomorrow, and left to take the daladala to Mwanza to do some stuff like returning the steam iron that didn't work.
The steam iron. I'd bought it three days ago, accompanying Kathleen who was trying to return a frying pan she decided she didn't want. Kathleen had a rough time - they have a NO RETURN policy, and the fact that the frying pan was in perfect shape and still had its price sticker on the middle of the pan didn't help at all. Especially since the manager was away on a two week trip and couldn't be reached. We just kind of hung around and didn't let the discussion die, and finally they gave up and returned her purchase price. We were learning how to deal like Tanzanians! My buying the steam iron helped, but they said they for sure DIDN'T want to see the steam iron come back.
But the damn thing just didn't work! Dead! Plug it in - nada! Just lay there on its back with its feet up in the air and its toes curled!
The store was NOT happy to see me come in with the iron. But they tried it, and lo and behold it still didn't work. But the POLICY. They looked for another iron - it had been the last one. No I didn't want a dry iron instead. Manager has to approve return. Manager away. Don't know when returning, maybe two weeks. Don't know where. Manager doesn't have phone. Don't know manager's number. Who would pay for the call? You should have tried the iron before you paid for it. Why didn't you try it first? Policy to always try electrical appliances first. Now big problem. Wait for manager.
After an hour and a half of this we called the manager on my cellphone. She answered, but wouldn't talk with us because she was in the middle of traffic. So now I kind of disappeared while there was this big hullabalu with shouting back and forth among the store personnel about whether to take back the iron or not. Finally they delivered a stern lecture to me, at length, about how you should ALWAYS try things in TZ before you buy them, and then they gave me my money back.
It felt like a success. And yes, I damn well WILL try all appliances in TZ before I buy them.
Monday, January 12, 2004
MONDAY January 12
OK, I think I work great in unstructured environments and go with the flow pretty well. But this is really testing it! School starts tomorrow and my Dept Chairman is still in absentia. So I am not sure how many students I have, or how many classes, or where and when those classes will meet. Will the students have paper? calculators? On the first day, will they be responsible for cleaning the laboratory as well as the classroom?
SUNDAY January 11
I rode my bike into Mwanza again today, for an afternoon date with Joe at the Rock Beach Hotel to play chess. I took the road Paul showed me just the other day, and it was a dream. It took just a little longer at 45 minutes, but went through countryside with beautiful vistas and while it was rolling terrain, it did not have the brutal long steep upgrades of the main road.
The temperature was great, it was slightly overcast so the sun was not too intense, and there was a constant breeze. I thought of my previous stereotype of East Africa from movies and books - say, riding along a dirt road through a largely unpopulated countryside with long views, occasionally passing somewhat deferential very black women in colorful native dress carrying bundles on their heads, small children sitting by the side of the road, men striding along in small groups moving out of the way to watch, goats scrambling to the limit of their ropes to flee as I approach.
And here it all is and I am part of it and it no longer even feels strange!
Incidentally, I learned from Yahoo that the Northeast is having record low temperatures. So I looked up the weather report for Philadelphia - 10 degrees going down to 6 tonight. Or maybe it was -6 going down to -10. Anyway, damn cold. The women renting from me must be very unhappy right now in that somewhat drafty house back there.
The slow leak in my back tire is no longer slow. I dropped in at the bike supply shop where Paul and I were yesterday to buy a tire patch kit on the way home. They recognized me there, and we actually had a rudimentary conversation in Kiswahili! The shop is run by Bwana and Mama Sabuni, a name that translates as Soap. The Soaps will be closing their duka soon to consolidate it into a larger store they have bought and are already running in the Mkyuni market.
I had to stop to pump up the tire several times on the way home, and was very glad that I had brought my pump with me. Also stopped to buy two huge and delicious avocados from one vendor, and a bunch of bananas from another. I would have enjoyed a fresh pineapple too, but no-one seemed to have any today.
Tomorrow I will teach myself how to fix a Phoenix innertube without removing the wheel from the bike. I never would have thought of doing it like that if I hadn't seen that that is how the roadside fundys do it. It sure beats all the readjustments that would be necessary after taking the wheel off to just to fix a flat. Then a final review of what I hope to accomplish in the first day of classes on Tuesday. Tomorrow, Monday, is a holiday for the celebration of Zanzibar independance from Britain.
And yes, I won the chess game again. It was a more even game than we played last week though. I think that Joe is getting the hang of my style, and I won't be winning much longer. Fun while it lasts, though.
OK, I think I work great in unstructured environments and go with the flow pretty well. But this is really testing it! School starts tomorrow and my Dept Chairman is still in absentia. So I am not sure how many students I have, or how many classes, or where and when those classes will meet. Will the students have paper? calculators? On the first day, will they be responsible for cleaning the laboratory as well as the classroom?
SUNDAY January 11
I rode my bike into Mwanza again today, for an afternoon date with Joe at the Rock Beach Hotel to play chess. I took the road Paul showed me just the other day, and it was a dream. It took just a little longer at 45 minutes, but went through countryside with beautiful vistas and while it was rolling terrain, it did not have the brutal long steep upgrades of the main road.
The temperature was great, it was slightly overcast so the sun was not too intense, and there was a constant breeze. I thought of my previous stereotype of East Africa from movies and books - say, riding along a dirt road through a largely unpopulated countryside with long views, occasionally passing somewhat deferential very black women in colorful native dress carrying bundles on their heads, small children sitting by the side of the road, men striding along in small groups moving out of the way to watch, goats scrambling to the limit of their ropes to flee as I approach.
And here it all is and I am part of it and it no longer even feels strange!
Incidentally, I learned from Yahoo that the Northeast is having record low temperatures. So I looked up the weather report for Philadelphia - 10 degrees going down to 6 tonight. Or maybe it was -6 going down to -10. Anyway, damn cold. The women renting from me must be very unhappy right now in that somewhat drafty house back there.
The slow leak in my back tire is no longer slow. I dropped in at the bike supply shop where Paul and I were yesterday to buy a tire patch kit on the way home. They recognized me there, and we actually had a rudimentary conversation in Kiswahili! The shop is run by Bwana and Mama Sabuni, a name that translates as Soap. The Soaps will be closing their duka soon to consolidate it into a larger store they have bought and are already running in the Mkyuni market.
I had to stop to pump up the tire several times on the way home, and was very glad that I had brought my pump with me. Also stopped to buy two huge and delicious avocados from one vendor, and a bunch of bananas from another. I would have enjoyed a fresh pineapple too, but no-one seemed to have any today.
Tomorrow I will teach myself how to fix a Phoenix innertube without removing the wheel from the bike. I never would have thought of doing it like that if I hadn't seen that that is how the roadside fundys do it. It sure beats all the readjustments that would be necessary after taking the wheel off to just to fix a flat. Then a final review of what I hope to accomplish in the first day of classes on Tuesday. Tomorrow, Monday, is a holiday for the celebration of Zanzibar independance from Britain.
And yes, I won the chess game again. It was a more even game than we played last week though. I think that Joe is getting the hang of my style, and I won't be winning much longer. Fun while it lasts, though.
Saturday, January 10, 2004
I am enjoying a developing relationship with Paul, a sharp and energetic Tanzanian with a wife and three kids. He does not have a job, but does everything he can on an odd-job basis, and he is worried because he does not earn nearly enough to send his children to school. He has tried a lot of things - raising tomatoes does not earn enough, school jobs like custodian are erratic and low paying. Currently he has a few pigs, and feels the best opportunity is in raising chickens. He has raised a few generations of small flocks to test this, and now has 100 layers that are thriving and producing very well.
Paul wants to expand to 400 chickens, which he feels will support his needs. But for this he needs money to build a bigger chicken house. He has even put together a business plan of sorts, although it is woefully inadequate. I would like to help him at least refine his plan so he could predict a monthly cash flow. Unfortunately my old business plans are locked away in storage. So for help I went across the street to the library of St. Augustine University, which specializes in Economics. Unfortunately it confirmed my expectations and has given me a New Cause.
The Univ. library has all kinds of books on micro and macro economics, sales, marketing, law, and tons of references on management and accounting. But there is NOTHING on how to start a business or how to construct a business plan, or anything about entrepreneurs or small business. Nothing.
I ACCUSE Tanzania of giving its country away. Of teaching its brightest students only how to work for the government - which is trying to REDUCE its workforce - or for foreign corporations. In Tanzania, the big money for things like the extractive industries, banks and large grocery chains is South African. The whole lower level of shopkeepers and merchants is composed of Indian immigrants. Most Tanzanians I talk too are defensive, claiming this is a poor country and there is no money etc etc. But some, like Paul, are capable, hard working and energetic without excuses. But they have no idea how to start and develop a business, and I do not - yet - see any assistance for them. I think this will be My Cause, and give me my topic for whatever soap box I can find to shout about it. Being next door to St. Augustine, this just may be interesting.
All that said, Paul and I had a great bike ride yesterday, to the Mkiyuno Market. They did not have the chickenfeed he wanted, but he helped my buy better tire valves and a decent pump for my bike. We came back a different way, through the countryside with beautiful views of Lake Victoria. It was longer than the way I have been going, but avoids the hard-surface road with its scary traffic.
Next week classes start. Maybe by then I will even know how many classes I will have to teach, and how many students I will have. Stay tuned.
Paul wants to expand to 400 chickens, which he feels will support his needs. But for this he needs money to build a bigger chicken house. He has even put together a business plan of sorts, although it is woefully inadequate. I would like to help him at least refine his plan so he could predict a monthly cash flow. Unfortunately my old business plans are locked away in storage. So for help I went across the street to the library of St. Augustine University, which specializes in Economics. Unfortunately it confirmed my expectations and has given me a New Cause.
The Univ. library has all kinds of books on micro and macro economics, sales, marketing, law, and tons of references on management and accounting. But there is NOTHING on how to start a business or how to construct a business plan, or anything about entrepreneurs or small business. Nothing.
I ACCUSE Tanzania of giving its country away. Of teaching its brightest students only how to work for the government - which is trying to REDUCE its workforce - or for foreign corporations. In Tanzania, the big money for things like the extractive industries, banks and large grocery chains is South African. The whole lower level of shopkeepers and merchants is composed of Indian immigrants. Most Tanzanians I talk too are defensive, claiming this is a poor country and there is no money etc etc. But some, like Paul, are capable, hard working and energetic without excuses. But they have no idea how to start and develop a business, and I do not - yet - see any assistance for them. I think this will be My Cause, and give me my topic for whatever soap box I can find to shout about it. Being next door to St. Augustine, this just may be interesting.
All that said, Paul and I had a great bike ride yesterday, to the Mkiyuno Market. They did not have the chickenfeed he wanted, but he helped my buy better tire valves and a decent pump for my bike. We came back a different way, through the countryside with beautiful views of Lake Victoria. It was longer than the way I have been going, but avoids the hard-surface road with its scary traffic.
Next week classes start. Maybe by then I will even know how many classes I will have to teach, and how many students I will have. Stay tuned.
Thursday, January 08, 2004
THURSDAY, January 8
Communication problems! The region here has been without power since the storm Sunday night, the 4th. So no internet. The battery on my computer expired so I haven't even been able to compose messages to send when the power returns, and my cellphone battery also went out on Monday. So I have been forced to live somewhat closer to the CLASSIC Peace Corps experience.
I saw last night that the power was on at St. Augustine U. across the street, so I should be able to get back on line today. And right now I am visiting Ryan who HAS electricity, and am recharging everything using his power.
Yesterday was an ordeal. A four hour staff and worker's meeting. No breaks, and all in Kiswahili. I understood a word here and there, but never understood a sentence. That was a real exercise in endurance!
MONDAY, January 5
We had our first staff meeting of the term this morning. Before the meeting could start, the first activity was to upright the School Sign that blew down in the storm last night. That required the services of our Headmaster, most of the teachers, and the school truck. The next item was to lift off the tree that had fallen over the electric wires in the middle of the school grounds. It really had been quite a storm. It blew down a tree in front of my house, and took the roof off of one of the bandas on the other side of my football pitch. The area here is still without electricity today.
So our 9:00 meeting got underway at 11:00. We discovered that there were no minutes from the prior Staff Meeting, and a whole discussion ensued as to whether or not there had ever been such a meeting in 2003. There were lengthy exhortations to complete our Schemes of Work for the year, and our Lesson Plans for each day.
It was decided that students who arrive late should be punished for each late day with three swats administered by the Discipline Master plus being required to in the dry season, make 50 mud bricks and prepare them for firing or in the wet season, carry 20 buckets of sand to fill in potholes in the road. Further, students who fail to provide accurate stamped envelopes to mail reports to their parents will be required to clear underbrush from 25sq. meters of forest land. The subsequent discussion on how to check classroom attendance went on forever. I think they finally came to a conclusion but I'm not sure. I simply intend to take roll in every class - doesn't sound like a problem to me.
Tomorrow morning we have department meetings. I really hope I can get a copy of last year's final exam from Chemistry Form III so I have some idea of the level of the instruction that is required.
SUNDAY, January 4
I had seen signs that announced that the church where I twice dropped in on to listen to their choir practice had an English language service on Sunday mornings. So I rode my bike to town early this morning to check it out. Having satisfied my curiosity, I think my desire for Tanzanian christianity has been satisfied now for all of 2004 at least. What a pleasure thatmy bike was working well,finally. I had decided that it would be up to me to get it right and so bent a few parts and wired up others so they would work right. Seems this was successful.
Next, lunch with Becky so I could return the blender she left at my house. Then out to Rock Beach to play chess with Joe and Steve and Gavin. They thought my style was absurd, until I won the two games in a row I played with them, and left them wondering how that happened. It felt good to find that I still remember how to play the game.
After the second game I noticed that the sky in the east had gotten very dark, and decided that I should high-tail it home before the rain started. Especially since I had a dinner date with Paul and his family. Paul is a very friendly Tanzanian who would like to get money to start a poultry business. I can't help him with the money angle, but think I can help him put together a business plan.
But the thunder was already grumbling and I only made it halfway home before the rain began. Luckily I was by the Mkulani market area when it hit, so could duck into a Duka - a little store - for the 1 1/2 hours it took to wait it out. When the rain was over I discovered that my bike had a flat tire. Ouch. Any modern bike, I could have fixed the flat in 15 minutes and been on my way. But with my shiny Phoenix, there was no option but to spend the next 45 minutes walking the damn thing home. At the same time, I found that one of the six bottles of beer I'd bought to take along to Paul had broken in my backpack. So now I have broken glass in my pack, and the whole thing smells like a brewery.
Well, the dinner with Paul was very good and the discussion was very interesting, so to use a cliche, All's well that ends well.
Tomorrow morning, my first Tz Teacher's Staff Meeting. I understand that it will start at 9:00, but Tanzanian time. I'll plan to get there early, say 10:00.
Communication problems! The region here has been without power since the storm Sunday night, the 4th. So no internet. The battery on my computer expired so I haven't even been able to compose messages to send when the power returns, and my cellphone battery also went out on Monday. So I have been forced to live somewhat closer to the CLASSIC Peace Corps experience.
I saw last night that the power was on at St. Augustine U. across the street, so I should be able to get back on line today. And right now I am visiting Ryan who HAS electricity, and am recharging everything using his power.
Yesterday was an ordeal. A four hour staff and worker's meeting. No breaks, and all in Kiswahili. I understood a word here and there, but never understood a sentence. That was a real exercise in endurance!
MONDAY, January 5
We had our first staff meeting of the term this morning. Before the meeting could start, the first activity was to upright the School Sign that blew down in the storm last night. That required the services of our Headmaster, most of the teachers, and the school truck. The next item was to lift off the tree that had fallen over the electric wires in the middle of the school grounds. It really had been quite a storm. It blew down a tree in front of my house, and took the roof off of one of the bandas on the other side of my football pitch. The area here is still without electricity today.
So our 9:00 meeting got underway at 11:00. We discovered that there were no minutes from the prior Staff Meeting, and a whole discussion ensued as to whether or not there had ever been such a meeting in 2003. There were lengthy exhortations to complete our Schemes of Work for the year, and our Lesson Plans for each day.
It was decided that students who arrive late should be punished for each late day with three swats administered by the Discipline Master plus being required to in the dry season, make 50 mud bricks and prepare them for firing or in the wet season, carry 20 buckets of sand to fill in potholes in the road. Further, students who fail to provide accurate stamped envelopes to mail reports to their parents will be required to clear underbrush from 25sq. meters of forest land. The subsequent discussion on how to check classroom attendance went on forever. I think they finally came to a conclusion but I'm not sure. I simply intend to take roll in every class - doesn't sound like a problem to me.
Tomorrow morning we have department meetings. I really hope I can get a copy of last year's final exam from Chemistry Form III so I have some idea of the level of the instruction that is required.
SUNDAY, January 4
I had seen signs that announced that the church where I twice dropped in on to listen to their choir practice had an English language service on Sunday mornings. So I rode my bike to town early this morning to check it out. Having satisfied my curiosity, I think my desire for Tanzanian christianity has been satisfied now for all of 2004 at least. What a pleasure thatmy bike was working well,finally. I had decided that it would be up to me to get it right and so bent a few parts and wired up others so they would work right. Seems this was successful.
Next, lunch with Becky so I could return the blender she left at my house. Then out to Rock Beach to play chess with Joe and Steve and Gavin. They thought my style was absurd, until I won the two games in a row I played with them, and left them wondering how that happened. It felt good to find that I still remember how to play the game.
After the second game I noticed that the sky in the east had gotten very dark, and decided that I should high-tail it home before the rain started. Especially since I had a dinner date with Paul and his family. Paul is a very friendly Tanzanian who would like to get money to start a poultry business. I can't help him with the money angle, but think I can help him put together a business plan.
But the thunder was already grumbling and I only made it halfway home before the rain began. Luckily I was by the Mkulani market area when it hit, so could duck into a Duka - a little store - for the 1 1/2 hours it took to wait it out. When the rain was over I discovered that my bike had a flat tire. Ouch. Any modern bike, I could have fixed the flat in 15 minutes and been on my way. But with my shiny Phoenix, there was no option but to spend the next 45 minutes walking the damn thing home. At the same time, I found that one of the six bottles of beer I'd bought to take along to Paul had broken in my backpack. So now I have broken glass in my pack, and the whole thing smells like a brewery.
Well, the dinner with Paul was very good and the discussion was very interesting, so to use a cliche, All's well that ends well.
Tomorrow morning, my first Tz Teacher's Staff Meeting. I understand that it will start at 9:00, but Tanzanian time. I'll plan to get there early, say 10:00.
Saturday, January 03, 2004
SATURDAY January 3
Hasson, my cook and house boy - I don't like that term, but haven't come up with anything more descriptive yet - hoed the ground around the house yesterday. We planted the zinnias, morning glorys, asters and yarrow that Allegra sent me. They should love the climate and it will be easy to keep the ground moist. The only problem might be the high clay content of the soil here. It will be fun to see how they respond and grow. I really wonder how long annuals will keep going here in a climate that never turns cold.
I took a picture of us while we were putting in the seeds. In looking at it, thank you digital camera, I am surprised to see how wrinkled my face is and how old I look. I am frequently surprised in the same way when I suddenly catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror or store window somewhere. I just don't FEEL that old! I love a woman who is 15 years younger than I am. Everyone I work and play with here is a lot younger than me. So while I mostly don't bother to think about it, every now and then someone will catch me up with a comment about my age - usually in some context of how it is NOT an issue. Hmmmmm. I do find that in our PVC bull sessions, I have a much longer history and a lot more personal experience to draw on than my friends do. I share from that and it seems OK, but sometimes I think it threatens to come across as being pompous and I HATE that.
Way back when I still lived in Delaware, Judy Gavotos accused me of trying to act youthful and for refusing to admit that I am getting older. It stung, and I try to look at that comment every now and then. Like, "now."
Well, lets see. There were two other PC Trainees in their 60s back in Arusha, although my 65 did take top honors. Susan certainly has slowed a bit physically and is hopeless when it comes to learning Swahili, but her enthusiasm and spirit remain bright and energetic. Bob is in good shape and mentally at the top of his form, but seems to me quite opinionated and set in his ways. Of course, that can happen to a person at any age. For my part, I am really finding it difficult to get my hands around Swahili and am concerned about whether I can reconstruct enough chemistry to teach well in the school here, but I revel in all the challenges and discoveries here and love physical activity like hiking, dancing, and riding my bicycle. True, I was not part of the social groupie pairing-up stuff that was at least a part of the scene in Arusha, but didn't/don't want to be. In group discussions with other PCVs a constant topic tends to be "What are you planning to do with the rest of your life after the PC," and that one isn't my issue either.
Hell, I am in excellent health and I feel accepted and appreciated by both my Tanzanian co-workers and by all the other PCVs here in the Mwanza area. I have no doubt that I can contribute in a small but meaningful way to the people around me here. Yes, I do think I have a lot more in common with these young people around me than I do with many older people who seem to want to settle into a comfortable routine and avoid challenging themselves. I feel very fortunate to be at a stage of my life where I do NOT have to work at some 8-to-5 job, like it or not, and I look forward with great anticipation to making a new life with Myrna when these two PC years have been completed. So I think the age thing is just something to be aware of, but dammit, surely not a reason to stop living.
So how's THAT as an exercise in self-rationalization?
FRIDAY January 2
It rained last night, and is raining again now, as I write this. When it rains here, it is a great experience. It doesn't really matter too much if you get caught out in it, because like most good midsummer rains, it does not feel cold at all. The process starts with the formation of heavy gray clouds. That can take several hours while some region of the sky keeps getting darker and more ominous. Then the thunder begins as a continuous low grumble. Next there comes a cool breeze that grows pretty quickly to a strong wind that slams doors and blows dust off the road. About this time the electricity gets erratic, if it doesn't go out completely. Then the wind dies down, but the low clouds in the sky continue whipping about in several directions at once. After these opening acts the rain finally makes its appearance, entering with just a few drops that slowly crecendo into a drenching downpour that creates rivulets and streams on the ground and beats a steady tattoo on the metal roofs. Wonderful background for a quick nap. Usually it is over in an hour or so and the sky regains its blue brilliance as a few remaining white clouds play around before they too disappear, leaving the ground all wet, sparkly and clean as the sun proceeds to dry everything off again.
It is good to see the rain. The corn was beginning to look thirsty, and the Tanzanians around Mwanza are fearful of yet another dry year, having just had several dry years in a row. There is no safety net here, and years of bad crops take their toll quickly in the cost and availability of food.
The rainy season seems to have increased the population of house lizards. House lizards are smaller than field lizards, and less colorful. The field lizards look like Calder creations - their heads and and bodies in front of what I suppose is a lizard's waist are bright red, while the rest of them is a bright blue. They certainly are not camouflaged, but if they had a little white in there too they could hide pretty well by sitting on a US flag. House lizards tend to be green or tan, with white racing stripes. They are probably good to have around since they eat bugs and mosquitos and things. Unfortunately what goes in must come out, and what comes out looks a lot like maybe a family of mice moved into the territory. I guess I shouldn't complain though, since they apparently are finding LOTS of mosquitos to eat.
Hasson, my cook and house boy - I don't like that term, but haven't come up with anything more descriptive yet - hoed the ground around the house yesterday. We planted the zinnias, morning glorys, asters and yarrow that Allegra sent me. They should love the climate and it will be easy to keep the ground moist. The only problem might be the high clay content of the soil here. It will be fun to see how they respond and grow. I really wonder how long annuals will keep going here in a climate that never turns cold.
I took a picture of us while we were putting in the seeds. In looking at it, thank you digital camera, I am surprised to see how wrinkled my face is and how old I look. I am frequently surprised in the same way when I suddenly catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror or store window somewhere. I just don't FEEL that old! I love a woman who is 15 years younger than I am. Everyone I work and play with here is a lot younger than me. So while I mostly don't bother to think about it, every now and then someone will catch me up with a comment about my age - usually in some context of how it is NOT an issue. Hmmmmm. I do find that in our PVC bull sessions, I have a much longer history and a lot more personal experience to draw on than my friends do. I share from that and it seems OK, but sometimes I think it threatens to come across as being pompous and I HATE that.
Way back when I still lived in Delaware, Judy Gavotos accused me of trying to act youthful and for refusing to admit that I am getting older. It stung, and I try to look at that comment every now and then. Like, "now."
Well, lets see. There were two other PC Trainees in their 60s back in Arusha, although my 65 did take top honors. Susan certainly has slowed a bit physically and is hopeless when it comes to learning Swahili, but her enthusiasm and spirit remain bright and energetic. Bob is in good shape and mentally at the top of his form, but seems to me quite opinionated and set in his ways. Of course, that can happen to a person at any age. For my part, I am really finding it difficult to get my hands around Swahili and am concerned about whether I can reconstruct enough chemistry to teach well in the school here, but I revel in all the challenges and discoveries here and love physical activity like hiking, dancing, and riding my bicycle. True, I was not part of the social groupie pairing-up stuff that was at least a part of the scene in Arusha, but didn't/don't want to be. In group discussions with other PCVs a constant topic tends to be "What are you planning to do with the rest of your life after the PC," and that one isn't my issue either.
Hell, I am in excellent health and I feel accepted and appreciated by both my Tanzanian co-workers and by all the other PCVs here in the Mwanza area. I have no doubt that I can contribute in a small but meaningful way to the people around me here. Yes, I do think I have a lot more in common with these young people around me than I do with many older people who seem to want to settle into a comfortable routine and avoid challenging themselves. I feel very fortunate to be at a stage of my life where I do NOT have to work at some 8-to-5 job, like it or not, and I look forward with great anticipation to making a new life with Myrna when these two PC years have been completed. So I think the age thing is just something to be aware of, but dammit, surely not a reason to stop living.
So how's THAT as an exercise in self-rationalization?
FRIDAY January 2
It rained last night, and is raining again now, as I write this. When it rains here, it is a great experience. It doesn't really matter too much if you get caught out in it, because like most good midsummer rains, it does not feel cold at all. The process starts with the formation of heavy gray clouds. That can take several hours while some region of the sky keeps getting darker and more ominous. Then the thunder begins as a continuous low grumble. Next there comes a cool breeze that grows pretty quickly to a strong wind that slams doors and blows dust off the road. About this time the electricity gets erratic, if it doesn't go out completely. Then the wind dies down, but the low clouds in the sky continue whipping about in several directions at once. After these opening acts the rain finally makes its appearance, entering with just a few drops that slowly crecendo into a drenching downpour that creates rivulets and streams on the ground and beats a steady tattoo on the metal roofs. Wonderful background for a quick nap. Usually it is over in an hour or so and the sky regains its blue brilliance as a few remaining white clouds play around before they too disappear, leaving the ground all wet, sparkly and clean as the sun proceeds to dry everything off again.
It is good to see the rain. The corn was beginning to look thirsty, and the Tanzanians around Mwanza are fearful of yet another dry year, having just had several dry years in a row. There is no safety net here, and years of bad crops take their toll quickly in the cost and availability of food.
The rainy season seems to have increased the population of house lizards. House lizards are smaller than field lizards, and less colorful. The field lizards look like Calder creations - their heads and and bodies in front of what I suppose is a lizard's waist are bright red, while the rest of them is a bright blue. They certainly are not camouflaged, but if they had a little white in there too they could hide pretty well by sitting on a US flag. House lizards tend to be green or tan, with white racing stripes. They are probably good to have around since they eat bugs and mosquitos and things. Unfortunately what goes in must come out, and what comes out looks a lot like maybe a family of mice moved into the territory. I guess I shouldn't complain though, since they apparently are finding LOTS of mosquitos to eat.
Thursday, January 01, 2004
Well. New Year's Eve, 2004. In Tanzania. So what to say. Becky had been planning an afternoon Bar-B-Q to inaugurate her new place with all the PCVs in the region. I was at her place last night for the first time, and it really is delightful, with a fabulous view of the lake. She had already laid in a stock of hamburgers - Honest to God Hamburgers - and brand label gin. She was a bit pissed because a number of PCVs who had said they would come now were backing out.
Anyway - I understood that she was going to meet people at the U-Turn Supermarket at 2:30 or so to lead them to her place, and it was OK that I would leave later for a New Year's Eve Staff Party at Nsumba. The Staff Party classifies as a command performance after all, and anyhow the gang was just planning to go Mwanza bar-hopping later.
But I was running a bit behind schedule and got to U-Turn at 3:15. Nobody there of course. Text messaged Becky, no response. Tried to call her on my damn cellphone, and it said her number was not listed. Patently wrong, but I have been having trouble with the 'phone. Anyway I found her place on my own after a 45 minute hike, but the gate was locked up tight with nobody there. Maybe I goofed and her party was for New Year's DAY??? So I did exciting things like buy toilet paper and then took the daladala home. Later got a text message wondering where I was. Hmmmmm. Have to sort that out on another day.
That left the Staff Party, scheduled to start at Oh 7:30 or 8:00 or So. The Asst. Headmaster dropped by my house at 8:15 just as I was headed to the shower to say that only four people were there but I should plan to get there soon. OK. Got there at 9:00 and it looked ever so much like the start of a high school dance. The decorations consisted of three balloons and a banner at each end of the room. Chairs around the perimeter with small tables in front of them, a few with people in them, music playing but other than a few conversations, nobody interacting with anybody else. It stayed like that for about an hour, then the MC made a little speech. Meanwhile, unlimited beer and soda, and some plates of tough meat eaten off the bone as finger food. There would be a little desultory dancing, then somebody would make a speeech - in indecipherable Kiswahili, of course. Repeat the sequence. Again. But I was an occasional topic, at which I would smile and nod my head as seemed appropriate. The headmaster arrived about 10:30 somewhat under the weather and made a long speech, somewhat slurred, apparently about how good 2004 was going to be for Nsumba and that 2004 is coming, ready or not. One guy in back was drunk and kept interrupting, and was led out of the hall after the headmaster spoke sharply to him.
Then somebody started a conga line, and that got more people moving. After that it was a combination of conga lines and disco dancing, all rather tame. No dancers touching or anything. More people were filtering in. I took a chance with Sabina, took her hand and led her into a piroutte. She got the hang of it, so we did it a bunch more. I think being Mericani gives me license to break tradition a little and the Tanzanians seemed somewhat surprised that a Mericani, and an old one at that, can move to an African rhythm.
About 11:45 I made a little speech too - a paragraph or so in what I hope was Kiswahili, then switched to English to say how much I liked Tanzania, Nsumba and the chance to work with all of them, to thank the headmaster and asst. headmaster for making it possible and how challenging it will all be, then thanked Sabina for dancing with me. THAT got a lot of laughter and applause and gave her a chance to be happily embarassed.
The headmaster felt obliged to respond and was still slurring words when the MC interrupted to announce THE NEW YEAR 2004. At that we all stood up and went around the room smashing our beer bottles into each other and saying things like Hey! - or in Kiswahili, Aehhhh! No confetti, noisemakers or funny hats, no kissing or hugging, nobody doused the lights. Aehhhh.
After that the dancing did get more animated. A big guy, another teacher I think, decided to dance with me, and we had a good time and really worked up a sweat. At the end of each song he would give me a big hug and lift me completely off the floor leveraging me off his big belly, which the Tanzanians loved and I had no way to object to even if I wanted.
In the cooling off period later my dance partner, the headmaster and several other people told me how much they liked that I had participated and obviously enjoyed dancing and being with them, and that I was "a social person." I apparently earned some good brownie points there.
I snuck off about 1:30 as the MC was giving the floor to anybody who had anything to say and it appeared that a lot of people did. Aehhhh.
Anyway - I understood that she was going to meet people at the U-Turn Supermarket at 2:30 or so to lead them to her place, and it was OK that I would leave later for a New Year's Eve Staff Party at Nsumba. The Staff Party classifies as a command performance after all, and anyhow the gang was just planning to go Mwanza bar-hopping later.
But I was running a bit behind schedule and got to U-Turn at 3:15. Nobody there of course. Text messaged Becky, no response. Tried to call her on my damn cellphone, and it said her number was not listed. Patently wrong, but I have been having trouble with the 'phone. Anyway I found her place on my own after a 45 minute hike, but the gate was locked up tight with nobody there. Maybe I goofed and her party was for New Year's DAY??? So I did exciting things like buy toilet paper and then took the daladala home. Later got a text message wondering where I was. Hmmmmm. Have to sort that out on another day.
That left the Staff Party, scheduled to start at Oh 7:30 or 8:00 or So. The Asst. Headmaster dropped by my house at 8:15 just as I was headed to the shower to say that only four people were there but I should plan to get there soon. OK. Got there at 9:00 and it looked ever so much like the start of a high school dance. The decorations consisted of three balloons and a banner at each end of the room. Chairs around the perimeter with small tables in front of them, a few with people in them, music playing but other than a few conversations, nobody interacting with anybody else. It stayed like that for about an hour, then the MC made a little speech. Meanwhile, unlimited beer and soda, and some plates of tough meat eaten off the bone as finger food. There would be a little desultory dancing, then somebody would make a speeech - in indecipherable Kiswahili, of course. Repeat the sequence. Again. But I was an occasional topic, at which I would smile and nod my head as seemed appropriate. The headmaster arrived about 10:30 somewhat under the weather and made a long speech, somewhat slurred, apparently about how good 2004 was going to be for Nsumba and that 2004 is coming, ready or not. One guy in back was drunk and kept interrupting, and was led out of the hall after the headmaster spoke sharply to him.
Then somebody started a conga line, and that got more people moving. After that it was a combination of conga lines and disco dancing, all rather tame. No dancers touching or anything. More people were filtering in. I took a chance with Sabina, took her hand and led her into a piroutte. She got the hang of it, so we did it a bunch more. I think being Mericani gives me license to break tradition a little and the Tanzanians seemed somewhat surprised that a Mericani, and an old one at that, can move to an African rhythm.
About 11:45 I made a little speech too - a paragraph or so in what I hope was Kiswahili, then switched to English to say how much I liked Tanzania, Nsumba and the chance to work with all of them, to thank the headmaster and asst. headmaster for making it possible and how challenging it will all be, then thanked Sabina for dancing with me. THAT got a lot of laughter and applause and gave her a chance to be happily embarassed.
The headmaster felt obliged to respond and was still slurring words when the MC interrupted to announce THE NEW YEAR 2004. At that we all stood up and went around the room smashing our beer bottles into each other and saying things like Hey! - or in Kiswahili, Aehhhh! No confetti, noisemakers or funny hats, no kissing or hugging, nobody doused the lights. Aehhhh.
After that the dancing did get more animated. A big guy, another teacher I think, decided to dance with me, and we had a good time and really worked up a sweat. At the end of each song he would give me a big hug and lift me completely off the floor leveraging me off his big belly, which the Tanzanians loved and I had no way to object to even if I wanted.
In the cooling off period later my dance partner, the headmaster and several other people told me how much they liked that I had participated and obviously enjoyed dancing and being with them, and that I was "a social person." I apparently earned some good brownie points there.
I snuck off about 1:30 as the MC was giving the floor to anybody who had anything to say and it appeared that a lot of people did. Aehhhh.
