Saturday, February 28, 2004
Trying to understand this culture I am immersed in:
My home, here on the grounds of Nsumba Secondary School, is bright, cheery and comfortable. It was empty for some time before I arrived for the first time, but was being renovated, and had been freshly painted inside and out. Its red metal roof nicely complemented the decor of the Tanzanian standard light blue walls with dark blue trim – there are few color choices in Tanzania. Still, it was unlivable then – installation of the protective window bars was incomplete, there was no water or electricity, no toilet, only one table with four hard chairs, a bed frame and a mattress still in its plastic cover. The windows did not yet have screens. I stayed downtown in a hotel at the school’s expense, and came out to the school every day or so by daladala. Even then I knew that things rarely happen on schedule in Tanzania, and so I doubted that the house would be ready for me in three weeks, after our swearing in ceremonies in Dar es Salaam.
On my arrival, I found everything complete except for the additional bars for the doors that I had requested, and electricity. There was some problem with the previous occupant’s nonpayment of the bill before the electric company would turn on the power. But everything else had been completed, and there were three chairs with pillows in the living room. They had accommodated all my requests, even building screen doors and a bookcase for me. Nowhere else in Nsumba do you find screen doors – or screened windows, for that matter. There was a stainless steel sink in the kitchen, working toilet and shower in the bathroom, everything secure.
The house is too large for me with its five rooms plus living room, not even counting the kitchen and bathroom that are off my small enclosed courtyard. But with three of those rooms closed off, it feels safe and snug. It is true that the School had expected several Peace Corps Volunteers and got only me, but I have never felt any resentment. No hint that perhaps all this space should be shared with another teacher or two. It is understood that Americans like and need privacy.
This home, in its layout and feel, would be a superb second home anywhere in America – beach home, mountain ski getaway, vacation place on the lake. With the plants and the garden I have added, my additional painting of the concrete floors and a little more furniture, this house is everything I could want.
Teachers are assigned to schools by the government, and so frequently find themselves suddenly shifted far from their previous communities. This seems to be most true of the younger teachers. Older teachers with families live in pretty rudimentary baked mud brick homes at Nsumba, some with plastered walls and some not. Families are large and extended, and the houses are not. Younger and single teachers live in a dark, huge, dingy warren of a building in single rooms, with toilet facilities down the hall.
Some classrooms are bright and cheery, the ones that are shown to visitors. The government allots the money for renovating or upgrading facilities. Those for which an allotment has not been granted are depressing and run down, with holes in the ceiling and at most, one fluorescent tube per room for light. I regularly take my Class D to the laboratory just because that classroom is too dark on a cloudy morning for the students to see what I write on the blackboard. The fluorescent tube in Classroom D does not work.
The fundi says there is no money to fix the light in Classroom D. The one computer in the school office has been repossessed. Another teacher taps my electricity to light his mud-brick home in the evening because the electric company will not turn on the power there until previous bills have been paid by the school. The Chem Dept head says there is no money to buy sodium bromide or potassium sulfite for a class demonstration and that it is useless to request an additional balance or more beakers for the laboratory. Textbooks are out of the question. Students say that they cannot buy the additional exercise book for homework, quizzes and laboratory data that I requested of them. (I insisted anyway, and sent the ones who did not buy, beg, borrow or steal one out of my class until they had.)
So there is this dichotomy of the relative opulence in which I live with the penury of the other teachers and the environment in which I am living and working. This is a society where students do not ride bicycles to school because they are too expensive. Children play soccer – football here – with lumps constructed from cast-off clothing, and the standard toys are a hoop from a can that is kept rolling with a stick, or a little board with nails in it to hold on avacado-seed wheels. The so-called “subsistence level” payment we Volunteers get from the Peace Corps, which I think I exceed on a regular basis, makes us wealthy by comparison.
Yet, I do not sense any resentment and everyone seems genuinely concerned about my well-being, about the loneliness I must feel living alone, about how I am getting along living in Tanzania. It is true that I am a free teacher for them courtesy of the Peace Corps, but still ...
My home, here on the grounds of Nsumba Secondary School, is bright, cheery and comfortable. It was empty for some time before I arrived for the first time, but was being renovated, and had been freshly painted inside and out. Its red metal roof nicely complemented the decor of the Tanzanian standard light blue walls with dark blue trim – there are few color choices in Tanzania. Still, it was unlivable then – installation of the protective window bars was incomplete, there was no water or electricity, no toilet, only one table with four hard chairs, a bed frame and a mattress still in its plastic cover. The windows did not yet have screens. I stayed downtown in a hotel at the school’s expense, and came out to the school every day or so by daladala. Even then I knew that things rarely happen on schedule in Tanzania, and so I doubted that the house would be ready for me in three weeks, after our swearing in ceremonies in Dar es Salaam.
On my arrival, I found everything complete except for the additional bars for the doors that I had requested, and electricity. There was some problem with the previous occupant’s nonpayment of the bill before the electric company would turn on the power. But everything else had been completed, and there were three chairs with pillows in the living room. They had accommodated all my requests, even building screen doors and a bookcase for me. Nowhere else in Nsumba do you find screen doors – or screened windows, for that matter. There was a stainless steel sink in the kitchen, working toilet and shower in the bathroom, everything secure.
The house is too large for me with its five rooms plus living room, not even counting the kitchen and bathroom that are off my small enclosed courtyard. But with three of those rooms closed off, it feels safe and snug. It is true that the School had expected several Peace Corps Volunteers and got only me, but I have never felt any resentment. No hint that perhaps all this space should be shared with another teacher or two. It is understood that Americans like and need privacy.
This home, in its layout and feel, would be a superb second home anywhere in America – beach home, mountain ski getaway, vacation place on the lake. With the plants and the garden I have added, my additional painting of the concrete floors and a little more furniture, this house is everything I could want.
Teachers are assigned to schools by the government, and so frequently find themselves suddenly shifted far from their previous communities. This seems to be most true of the younger teachers. Older teachers with families live in pretty rudimentary baked mud brick homes at Nsumba, some with plastered walls and some not. Families are large and extended, and the houses are not. Younger and single teachers live in a dark, huge, dingy warren of a building in single rooms, with toilet facilities down the hall.
Some classrooms are bright and cheery, the ones that are shown to visitors. The government allots the money for renovating or upgrading facilities. Those for which an allotment has not been granted are depressing and run down, with holes in the ceiling and at most, one fluorescent tube per room for light. I regularly take my Class D to the laboratory just because that classroom is too dark on a cloudy morning for the students to see what I write on the blackboard. The fluorescent tube in Classroom D does not work.
The fundi says there is no money to fix the light in Classroom D. The one computer in the school office has been repossessed. Another teacher taps my electricity to light his mud-brick home in the evening because the electric company will not turn on the power there until previous bills have been paid by the school. The Chem Dept head says there is no money to buy sodium bromide or potassium sulfite for a class demonstration and that it is useless to request an additional balance or more beakers for the laboratory. Textbooks are out of the question. Students say that they cannot buy the additional exercise book for homework, quizzes and laboratory data that I requested of them. (I insisted anyway, and sent the ones who did not buy, beg, borrow or steal one out of my class until they had.)
So there is this dichotomy of the relative opulence in which I live with the penury of the other teachers and the environment in which I am living and working. This is a society where students do not ride bicycles to school because they are too expensive. Children play soccer – football here – with lumps constructed from cast-off clothing, and the standard toys are a hoop from a can that is kept rolling with a stick, or a little board with nails in it to hold on avacado-seed wheels. The so-called “subsistence level” payment we Volunteers get from the Peace Corps, which I think I exceed on a regular basis, makes us wealthy by comparison.
Yet, I do not sense any resentment and everyone seems genuinely concerned about my well-being, about the loneliness I must feel living alone, about how I am getting along living in Tanzania. It is true that I am a free teacher for them courtesy of the Peace Corps, but still ...
Sorry for the gap since my last posting, but there has been a variety of computer and internet connection problems. So, to catch up:
Tanzanian students will do whatever they are told to do. I think Kafka would feel right at home here, but it freaky to feel that I am part of perpetrating the system.
I have been making latecomers to my morning classes squat on their desks during the class period. They don’t like that. It hurts. Two days ago at Morning Parade the Headmaster gave a long tirade about day students arriving late. For whatever reason, I have many fewer students arriving late for my classes.
But there are still a few. So today I had the first and second latecomers go squat on a desk in the back of the room, as usual. Which they did. Later in the class period I looked back and I had only one squatter. I began demanding that the second identify himself and get back up on the desk ---- until the class informed me that this poor guy had not been a member of the class at all, and had only come into the room to get his books. But he had climbed right up on the desk when I told him to!
In that same class, I ended the period with a quiz. While I was collecting the papers, I saw a girl, test paper in hand, sneaking out of the room. I stopped her and grabbed the paper out of her hand. She had written down all the questions but had not answered a single one – and had not put her name on the paper. I demanded that she put her name on the paper, which she did and then, shamefaced, she quickly tried to leave the room. I stopped her again:
“Do you really dislike chemistry?”
“Mmmmph.”
“Do you not understand anything at all that we talked about in class?”
“No. Blww.”
“Why are you in class, why don’t you do something else instead?”
“mumblemmbbwammerim.”
“WHAT?”
“Mumblemmbbwammerim.”
“SPEAK LOUDER! AND LOOK AT ME WHILE YOU TALK!”
“I am not a member of this class, Sir. I was late to arrive this morning and another teacher told me to get into a class right away and this was the closest one.”
I couldn’t stop laughing. I patted her on the back as she finally escaped.
Tanzanian students will do whatever they are told to do. I think Kafka would feel right at home here, but it freaky to feel that I am part of perpetrating the system.
I have been making latecomers to my morning classes squat on their desks during the class period. They don’t like that. It hurts. Two days ago at Morning Parade the Headmaster gave a long tirade about day students arriving late. For whatever reason, I have many fewer students arriving late for my classes.
But there are still a few. So today I had the first and second latecomers go squat on a desk in the back of the room, as usual. Which they did. Later in the class period I looked back and I had only one squatter. I began demanding that the second identify himself and get back up on the desk ---- until the class informed me that this poor guy had not been a member of the class at all, and had only come into the room to get his books. But he had climbed right up on the desk when I told him to!
In that same class, I ended the period with a quiz. While I was collecting the papers, I saw a girl, test paper in hand, sneaking out of the room. I stopped her and grabbed the paper out of her hand. She had written down all the questions but had not answered a single one – and had not put her name on the paper. I demanded that she put her name on the paper, which she did and then, shamefaced, she quickly tried to leave the room. I stopped her again:
“Do you really dislike chemistry?”
“Mmmmph.”
“Do you not understand anything at all that we talked about in class?”
“No. Blww.”
“Why are you in class, why don’t you do something else instead?”
“mumblemmbbwammerim.”
“WHAT?”
“Mumblemmbbwammerim.”
“SPEAK LOUDER! AND LOOK AT ME WHILE YOU TALK!”
“I am not a member of this class, Sir. I was late to arrive this morning and another teacher told me to get into a class right away and this was the closest one.”
I couldn’t stop laughing. I patted her on the back as she finally escaped.
Friday, February 20, 2004
FRIDAY Feb 19
I wonder if there will be any ramifications to my actions this week. For one thing, I refused a request made in the middle of one of my classes for seven of the students to go face corporeal punishment for possibly having been part of a school farm work-group that stole corn from a neighbor’s field. There are already too many official reasons that keep students from being in class – how can they learn if the school won’t let them stay in class? So I said. And that seemed to be the end of the matter, at least for the moment.
Of course, this happened right after I sent four students out of the class because they didn’t buy the exercise books I insisted they have by this class. But at least I had told them in advance what would happen, so it was their own doing and not the school’s.
Then, I was told that I was supposed to sign the Class Journal – the attendance record for the class – and I refused. I have no idea what is going on in my class, so how can I authorize their record? Attendance is taken once a day, I think by the Class Monitor, and is then assumed to be good for all classes that day. Fat chance! For several weeks I tried keeping my own attendance record, but I gave it up. With 50-55 students it takes too long, the names are confusing, and there has been a continual switching of students in or out of my classes. I asked for a copy of the Official Journal early this week, and was told that it is not yet finalized. Anyway, half my class absences are due to school-assigned duties or special punishments.
In addition, I suggested that the Chemistry Department have a meeting to talk over things like safety in the laboratory, coordination of laboratory use, and how much equipment we have for the students. The Head of the Dept strongly resisted holding such a meeting, but finally gave in to another teacher and me, and we had the meeting. The list of things I wanted to talk about ended up as the agenda for the meeting, which made me feel more than a little exposed and uncomfortable. The meeting was a series of statements from the Dept Head. No, teachers cannot have access to the stockroom. No, we don’t have desks or tables for teachers’ meetings with students. No, we cannot make more than three keys for the laboratory. No, we cannot request more chemicals or supplement our only (borrowed) chemical balance. No, we cannot request that the laboratory plumbing system be fixed. No, the laboratory can’t be opened in the evening to prepare class demonstrations. No, we can’t request more equipment.
After all this, I talked to the Head of the Physics Dept. who was quite cooperative, and I will use his equipment for the electrochemical demonstrations I need to present over the next couple of weeks. Fortunately he did not ask why I didn’t plan to use equipment from the Chem Dept.
I wonder if there will be any ramifications to my actions this week. For one thing, I refused a request made in the middle of one of my classes for seven of the students to go face corporeal punishment for possibly having been part of a school farm work-group that stole corn from a neighbor’s field. There are already too many official reasons that keep students from being in class – how can they learn if the school won’t let them stay in class? So I said
Of course, this happened right after I sent four students out of the class because they didn’t buy the exercise books I insisted they have by this class. But at least I had told them in advance what would happen, so it was their own doing and not the school’s.
Then, I was told that I was supposed to sign the Class Journal – the attendance record for the class – and I refused. I have no idea what is going on in my class, so how can I authorize their record? Attendance is taken once a day, I think by the Class Monitor, and is then assumed to be good for all classes that day. Fat chance! For several weeks I tried keeping my own attendance record, but I gave it up. With 50-55 students it takes too long, the names are confusing, and there has been a continual switching of students in or out of my classes. I asked for a copy of the Official Journal early this week, and was told that it is not yet finalized. Anyway, half my class absences are due to school-assigned duties or special punishments.
In addition, I suggested that the Chemistry Department have a meeting to talk over things like safety in the laboratory, coordination of laboratory use, and how much equipment we have for the students. The Head of the Dept strongly resisted holding such a meeting, but finally gave in to another teacher and me, and we had the meeting. The list of things I wanted to talk about ended up as the agenda for the meeting, which made me feel more than a little exposed and uncomfortable. The meeting was a series of
After all this, I talked to the Head of the Physics Dept. who was quite cooperative, and I will use his equipment for the electrochemical demonstrations I need to present over the next couple of weeks. Fortunately he did not ask why I didn’t plan to use equipment from the Chem Dept.
Monday, February 16, 2004
MONDAY Feb 16
I know it sounds impossible, but so help me, my houseboy and I planted the Silver Queen Sweet Corn seeds that Allegra sent me, just this past Friday. Three days ago. The seedlings appeared yesterday, and already are about 1” tall! Talk about corn growing fast in Kansas? In Africa it EXPLODES!
Teaching. I did make a game of it in my classes today. Chemical Jeopardy. Form teams, and the first team to write the answer on the board gets points – or loses them for the wrong answer. So...
Class A got into it, and we nearly had some fights over the scoring. But THEY WERE ANSWERING THE QUESTIONS!
Class B? Well, they sort of got the hang of it, but pretty much watched the one person in each group who answered the questions.
Class C? Lethargic. Wrong answers and nobody cared much. Try to help or explain the question, and it was back to talking to zombies with fish eyes staring back at me. Given an equation like A + 2B --> 2C + 3D, then a question like got only blank looks. We got down to the level of . Hopeless.
But there was another problem. In my test I had asked for a definition of a chemical formula, and almost every student got it wrong. It turns out that they were giving me the word-for-word answer they were taught last year, that had come word-for-word from their textbook (3RD EDITION NO LESS!!!) and it was WRONG!! No wonder they don’t understand what information you get from a chemical formula!
Another thing. The students take 11 subjects, but after the all-important National Examinations only their best 7 scores are used to compute their final placements. So if they should decide, lets say, then that decision has some logic to it and it makes no sense for them to waste their time on doing any chemistry homework. I don’t know for a fact that this explains what I see happening, but it would at least be better than deciding that Tanzanians are half-wits.
I know it sounds impossible, but so help me, my houseboy and I planted the Silver Queen Sweet Corn seeds that Allegra sent me, just this past Friday. Three days ago. The seedlings appeared yesterday, and already are about 1” tall! Talk about corn growing fast in Kansas? In Africa it EXPLODES!
Teaching. I did make a game of it in my classes today. Chemical Jeopardy. Form teams, and the first team to write the answer on the board gets points – or loses them for the wrong answer. So...
Class A got into it, and we nearly had some fights over the scoring. But THEY WERE ANSWERING THE QUESTIONS!
Class B? Well, they sort of got the hang of it, but pretty much watched the one person in each group who answered the questions.
Class C? Lethargic. Wrong answers and nobody cared much. Try to help or explain the question, and it was back to talking to zombies with fish eyes staring back at me. Given an equation like A + 2B --> 2C + 3D, then a question like
But there was another problem. In my test I had asked for a definition of a chemical formula, and almost every student got it wrong. It turns out that they were giving me the word-for-word answer they were taught last year, that had come word-for-word from their textbook (3RD EDITION NO LESS!!!) and it was WRONG!! No wonder they don’t understand what information you get from a chemical formula!
Another thing. The students take 11 subjects, but after the all-important National Examinations only their best 7 scores are used to compute their final placements. So if they should decide, lets say, then that decision has some logic to it and it makes no sense for them to waste their time on doing any chemistry homework. I don’t know for a fact that this explains what I see happening, but it would at least be better than deciding that Tanzanians are half-wits.
SUNDAY Feb 15
It has been a pretty good weekend, full of good friends – lots of other PCVs were in town. Lots of other people to tell about my tribulations with my classes and share experiences. Problems are different, but we all seem to have at least one problem or another.
Kim suggested spot-checking homework, penalizing those who didn’t even try with 3 pts off their next quiz score. I like that. And I’m going to INSIST that everyone in my classes buy blank exercise books, and not allow them in class until they show me that they have done that. They ought to be able to come up with the 200 schillings, or borrow that from a friend if they can’t. And instead of doing a dry blackboard review of the test they did so poorly on, I will group them into teams for a game of Chemical Jeopardy based on problems of the type in the test.
Joanie had a copy of a PC-suggested Scheme of Work, our name for the teaching outline for the year. That will help me a lot in thinking about my coursework planning. And surprise, I am not far off the pace of the model. So I have some new ideas and plans for how to approach my classes again, and it seems that all is not lost after all.
Weekend activities:
I called Myrna on Friday to wish her a Happy Valentine’s Day, and wrote her a long email letter. No flowers via internet this year, I’m sticking with PC budgeting. But at the post office on Friday, wonderful timing, I got a set of photos that she had mailed to me on January 19. She had had a calendar made with a picture of herself in the middle of it, looking happy and delicious. The photos of her house and family are so alive, and they remind me of what I am missing by being here in Africa. Among the pictures were several in which she was wearing the outfit that I had made for her by a fundi in Arusha. Looked pretty good, but then she always looks good no matter what she is wearing.
This weekend, Kara was in from Sumve and had planned to stay at Ryan’s on Friday night but he wasn’t there, so she stayed at my place until Saturday morning. She can be a bit tiring, to put it mildly. After Kara left, Kathleen (from Bunda) showed up because she heard that I have lettuce in my garden and she had to see that. She was properly impressed. I may have the only lettuce patch in all of East Africa! While she was here Joanie text messaged an invitation for a late lunch at her site in Bweru, two daladala rides away. We got there late, but Steve, Joe, Charles and Becky had saved some skewers of meat and vegetables for us, and even some of Joanie’s chocolate chip cookies (!). Later we went to town because Kim – who came to Joanie’s too late for food - was very hungry, just coming off her 2-day bout with amoebic dysentery. It took even longer than usual to be served at the Tilapia Hotel, as the Valentine’s Day crowds were huge. By the time we finished it was too late to get a daladala back to Nyegeze, so all of us shared a taxi to Becky’s place where the girls got the beds and Joe and I slept on chair cushions on the floor.
Today, Sunday, I caught the first daladala back to Nyegeze and spent the day alternately puttering and working on lesson plans. Toward evening I went to give Ryan a letter I picked up from the post office for him, and met him en-route with Emily and David, in from Ukerewe Island. We all walked up to The Point to watch the sunset from the highest peak in the area. It was fabulous, and even a colobus monkey was there, watching it with us. The view of the lake and the plains and rocks in strong sidelight as the sun sinks to the horizon was really special. My site has such an incredible variety of beauty and services, mostly within an easy walking distance, and all within a moderate bike ride. Hardly the PC hardship location. I feel very lucky indeed.
It has been a pretty good weekend, full of good friends – lots of other PCVs were in town. Lots of other people to tell about my tribulations with my classes and share experiences. Problems are different, but we all seem to have at least one problem or another.
Kim suggested spot-checking homework, penalizing those who didn’t even try with 3 pts off their next quiz score. I like that. And I’m going to INSIST that everyone in my classes buy blank exercise books, and not allow them in class until they show me that they have done that. They ought to be able to come up with the 200 schillings, or borrow that from a friend if they can’t. And instead of doing a dry blackboard review of the test they did so poorly on, I will group them into teams for a game of Chemical Jeopardy based on problems of the type in the test.
Joanie had a copy of a PC-suggested Scheme of Work, our name for the teaching outline for the year. That will help me a lot in thinking about my coursework planning. And surprise, I am not far off the pace of the model. So I have some new ideas and plans for how to approach my classes again, and it seems that all is not lost after all.
Weekend activities:
I called Myrna on Friday to wish her a Happy Valentine’s Day, and wrote her a long email letter. No flowers via internet this year, I’m sticking with PC budgeting. But at the post office on Friday, wonderful timing, I got a set of photos that she had mailed to me on January 19. She had had a calendar made with a picture of herself in the middle of it, looking happy and delicious. The photos of her house and family are so alive, and they remind me of what I am missing by being here in Africa. Among the pictures were several in which she was wearing the outfit that I had made for her by a fundi in Arusha. Looked pretty good, but then she always looks good no matter what she is wearing.
This weekend, Kara was in from Sumve and had planned to stay at Ryan’s on Friday night but he wasn’t there, so she stayed at my place until Saturday morning. She can be a bit tiring, to put it mildly. After Kara left, Kathleen (from Bunda) showed up because she heard that I have lettuce in my garden and she had to see that. She was properly impressed. I may have the only lettuce patch in all of East Africa! While she was here Joanie text messaged an invitation for a late lunch at her site in Bweru, two daladala rides away. We got there late, but Steve, Joe, Charles and Becky had saved some skewers of meat and vegetables for us, and even some of Joanie’s chocolate chip cookies (!). Later we went to town because Kim – who came to Joanie’s too late for food - was very hungry, just coming off her 2-day bout with amoebic dysentery. It took even longer than usual to be served at the Tilapia Hotel, as the Valentine’s Day crowds were huge. By the time we finished it was too late to get a daladala back to Nyegeze, so all of us shared a taxi to Becky’s place where the girls got the beds and Joe and I slept on chair cushions on the floor.
Today, Sunday, I caught the first daladala back to Nyegeze and spent the day alternately puttering and working on lesson plans. Toward evening I went to give Ryan a letter I picked up from the post office for him, and met him en-route with Emily and David, in from Ukerewe Island. We all walked up to The Point to watch the sunset from the highest peak in the area. It was fabulous, and even a colobus monkey was there, watching it with us. The view of the lake and the plains and rocks in strong sidelight as the sun sinks to the horizon was really special. My site has such an incredible variety of beauty and services, mostly within an easy walking distance, and all within a moderate bike ride. Hardly the PC hardship location. I feel very lucky indeed.
Thursday, February 12, 2004
THURSDAY Feb 12
The teachers seem to skim off a healthy share of the fish that are donated to the school, so my houseboy has been serving me fish, fish, and fish. He makes a great fish sauce, and the fish is really good so it is not a problem but wow.
I’m feeling quite depressed, again, today. I’ve finished giving my test to all five classes. The logistics went much better this time – I know enough to insist that the students take everything off their desk except the test paper, and I personally collect the papers afterwards. However, only about half the students were present to take the test. Where were the rest? About 25% were simply absent from school, and the rest either had been assigned to hoe the school garden or were out somewhere working off a punishment of one sort or another – to carry bricks from here to there, carry dirt to fill potholes, or kneel for a few hours on the hard ground. Maybe corporal punishment too, but that is mostly administered in the morning during the parade assembly.
But it is the scores that bother me. They are so abysmal. I could not have given an easier test, but the average scores are around 35, out of 100 – and probably 10% are a flat ZERO! It must take an effort to not pick up SOMETHING while warming a seat in a classroom for twenty hours.
So if I don’t want to buy into the theory that these kids are stupid beyond hope, then it is up to me to find some way to reach them or motivate them or emplant knowledge into their heads somehow. The group participation approach that I prefer clearly didn’t work. Writing everything on the blackboard so they can copy it didn’t work. A teacher friend suggests assigning a lot more problems to work out, but when I assign homework only about a third of the class even tries to do it. They have NO difficulty understanding my English, but somehow comprehension seems nil. In a couple of the classes, right before the test, I gave the two definitions that were asked for in the test, and the class discussed them, and then I insisted they copy down the definitions, word for word. And on the test? They STILL could not give the definitions!
I don’t know where to go from here. Any teachers out there have any advice or commiseration for me? I’m not yet near asking the Academic Master to try to beat knowledge into their bottoms, but SOMETHING is needed, for sure. Small group problem solving seemed to work well when I tried it before, but how far can you push that technique?
WEDNESDAY February 11.
So as of today it has been 5 months since this group of wide-eyed Peace Corps Trainees who hardly knew each other landed at Kilimanjaro International Airport in the dark and transferred to buses that drove on the wrong side of the road to some place called Arusha. And although it still feels like I am still just getting my feet on the ground, certainly I must already have a better understanding of Tanzania than the one-week tourists who come here for a safari or to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro. I still have so much to learn. Kiswahili. How to teach high school kids, especially Tanzanian high school kids.
But the local excitement today – VERY local – is the progress of my farming. Today, for the first time in five months I had a delicious, tender green garden salad. I harvested some of the larger leaves on my lettuce plants along with my first two radishes, then added some local tomato slices and green pepper along with a little oil and wine vinegar. Ahhhhhhhhh. I was transported. The scallions are coming nicely also and I should have topped some of them for the salad too. Next time.
But that is not all. My first brave zinnia bloom is in full flower, and half a dozen others are right behind. And the morning glories have small buds. All this stuff was planted just over a month ago! Now that Allegra has sent me seeds for Silver Queen corn, I can’t wait. They got planted just today. The packet says 85 days to harvest. May?
Tonight are the semifinals of the Africa Cup soccer matches. I’m planning to visit Mr. Gunje and his family to watch the games on his TV. Nigeria vs Tunisia, and Morocco vs Mali. Here, this is the equivalent of the World Series.
The teachers seem to skim off a healthy share of the fish that are donated to the school, so my houseboy has been serving me fish, fish, and fish. He makes a great fish sauce, and the fish is really good so it is not a problem but wow.
I’m feeling quite depressed, again, today. I’ve finished giving my test to all five classes. The logistics went much better this time – I know enough to insist that the students take everything off their desk except the test paper, and I personally collect the papers afterwards. However, only about half the students were present to take the test. Where were the rest? About 25% were simply absent from school, and the rest either had been assigned to hoe the school garden or were out somewhere working off a punishment of one sort or another – to carry bricks from here to there, carry dirt to fill potholes, or kneel for a few hours on the hard ground. Maybe corporal punishment too, but that is mostly administered in the morning during the parade assembly.
But it is the scores that bother me. They are so abysmal. I could not have given an easier test, but the average scores are around 35, out of 100 – and probably 10% are a flat ZERO! It must take an effort to not pick up SOMETHING while warming a seat in a classroom for twenty hours.
So if I don’t want to buy into the theory that these kids are stupid beyond hope, then it is up to me to find some way to reach them or motivate them or emplant knowledge into their heads somehow. The group participation approach that I prefer clearly didn’t work. Writing everything on the blackboard so they can copy it didn’t work. A teacher friend suggests assigning a lot more problems to work out, but when I assign homework only about a third of the class even tries to do it. They have NO difficulty understanding my English, but somehow comprehension seems nil. In a couple of the classes, right before the test, I gave the two definitions that were asked for in the test, and the class discussed them, and then I insisted they copy down the definitions, word for word. And on the test? They STILL could not give the definitions!
I don’t know where to go from here. Any teachers out there have any advice or commiseration for me? I’m not yet near asking the Academic Master to try to beat knowledge into their bottoms, but SOMETHING is needed, for sure. Small group problem solving seemed to work well when I tried it before, but how far can you push that technique?
WEDNESDAY February 11.
So as of today it has been 5 months since this group of wide-eyed Peace Corps Trainees who hardly knew each other landed at Kilimanjaro International Airport in the dark and transferred to buses that drove on the wrong side of the road to some place called Arusha. And although it still feels like I am still just getting my feet on the ground, certainly I must already have a better understanding of Tanzania than the one-week tourists who come here for a safari or to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro. I still have so much to learn. Kiswahili. How to teach high school kids, especially Tanzanian high school kids.
But the local excitement today – VERY local – is the progress of my farming. Today, for the first time in five months I had a delicious, tender green garden salad. I harvested some of the larger leaves on my lettuce plants along with my first two radishes, then added some local tomato slices and green pepper along with a little oil and wine vinegar. Ahhhhhhhhh. I was transported. The scallions are coming nicely also and I should have topped some of them for the salad too. Next time.
But that is not all. My first brave zinnia bloom is in full flower, and half a dozen others are right behind. And the morning glories have small buds. All this stuff was planted just over a month ago! Now that Allegra has sent me seeds for Silver Queen corn, I can’t wait. They got planted just today. The packet says 85 days to harvest. May?
Tonight are the semifinals of the Africa Cup soccer matches. I’m planning to visit Mr. Gunje and his family to watch the games on his TV. Nigeria vs Tunisia, and Morocco vs Mali. Here, this is the equivalent of the World Series.
Tuesday, February 10, 2004
I should be teaching right now. But I went to my classroom, and it was locked! No students were there! I checked my schedule – yes, I do teach III-E on Tuesday, and at 11:20am. Hmmmm? So, I went to the office to see what was happening with my class. On the way I met one of the class monitors from another class who told me that my class was preparing fish. FISH? Yes, fish.
It turned out that the school had been given a big batch of fish by the Tanzania Fishery Research Center. This is good news for the students, who can now have some more interesting food than the usual rice and beans. But it also means that a batch of students was needed to clean and prepare the fish, and the Teacher of the Day chose to grab the students from III-E for the job. No advance notice or information to the teacher, just grab students and get the job done. This seems to the way things happen here, but the first time that it impacted me so directly.
I do want to give a quiz later in the week, so I really need this period with the class. So I checked their schedule in the office, and luckily they do have a study period later today. I then found the students out by the kitchen with big tables full of fish, enjoying the beautiful day and the chance to avoid a class. The class monitor agreed that they would have time to wash up after finishing with the fish, and would be able to meet for class later today.
In Tanzania, ya just gotta hang loose.
It turned out that the school had been given a big batch of fish by the Tanzania Fishery Research Center. This is good news for the students, who can now have some more interesting food than the usual rice and beans. But it also means that a batch of students was needed to clean and prepare the fish, and the Teacher of the Day chose to grab the students from III-E for the job. No advance notice or information to the teacher, just grab students and get the job done. This seems to the way things happen here, but the first time that it impacted me so directly.
I do want to give a quiz later in the week, so I really need this period with the class. So I checked their schedule in the office, and luckily they do have a study period later today. I then found the students out by the kitchen with big tables full of fish, enjoying the beautiful day and the chance to avoid a class. The class monitor agreed that they would have time to wash up after finishing with the fish, and would be able to meet for class later today.
In Tanzania, ya just gotta hang loose.
Monday, February 09, 2004
It is 1:30am. I think I am tired but I am not sure. The electricity problem in my house still has not been fixed. Usually I have no power between dusk and about 8:00, but last night it would not come on even by 9:30. I get tired of trying to read by the kerosene lantern so decided that I would go to bed, let myself wake up in the middle of the night as I usually do if I go to bed early, and then look over my material for tomorrow’s class.
I guess I got up a little too early. The wind was blowing through the house and I could hear papers rattling on my desk. So I got up to close windows in advance of the rain which is now coming down in torrents.
But I do not feel like looking over chemistry notes. I think I am OK for tomorrow. Anyhow, a lot of the class will be spent in going over the examples I gave them last week that they will not have understood, and I have new material prepared that will take a good bit of time to copy onto the board for them.
Yesterday, Sunday, I went to the Catholic Church hoping to meet Brother Timothy, who I’ve been told knows a lot about the social service organizations in the area. I want to explore opportunities for Myrna when she comes to visit me in June. But Bro. T. was not there. So after that I went to other PCVs, Joanie, Steve and Joe at Rock Beach Hotel for chess and commiseration about teaching problems. The commiseration was supportive – it is nice to know that I am not alone in facing students here. The chess game was sloppy. Joe gave me his queen, then I got careless as I bore in to administer the coup de gras to his king and he came out of it with my queen and knight so beat me in the end. We now stand at Joe=1, Lee=2.
Then I dropped in on Gunje, another chemistry teacher. We both need to get our students into the laboratory, and I wanted to talk to him about what we can really do with them if we have only one balance for 55 students. How can they weigh out materials to make up standard solutions with only one weighing station? That question didn’t get answered, but we decided that there should be a meeting of the Chemistry Department. And he insisted that I stay for dinner, which consisted of excellent roasted fish with a big bowl of peanuts on the side, cold chipsy (home fries) and soda.
That made me late for my meeting with the students of II-B who had asked to meet with me. It was fun. We sat on rocks under the trees and talked about why I was there, the differences between Tz and American education and students and opportunities for employment in Tz. They asked the inevitable “How can I go study in the US,” to which I replied that I could not help them, and that it is difficult to find a way to get to the US to study especially since Sept 11. Surprisingly they did not know what happened on that date, so we talked about that some. They unanimously felt that the US is making enemies for itself around the world and should not be trying to control the world by itself.
At the end of the meeting, one of the students brought out his camera and we had a festival of picture taking. The group with me, small groups with me, individuals with me... What a celebrity I am!
Well the rain stopped, and now has come back again. Frogs are peeping in thanks for the fresh water. I’ve had to go flip the circuit breaker about every five minutes to keep the power on as I write this posting for my journal. I am going to give up on the power, go back to bed, and listen to the rain on the roof from there. Good night.
I guess I got up a little too early. The wind was blowing through the house and I could hear papers rattling on my desk. So I got up to close windows in advance of the rain which is now coming down in torrents.
But I do not feel like looking over chemistry notes. I think I am OK for tomorrow. Anyhow, a lot of the class will be spent in going over the examples I gave them last week that they will not have understood, and I have new material prepared that will take a good bit of time to copy onto the board for them.
Yesterday, Sunday, I went to the Catholic Church hoping to meet Brother Timothy, who I’ve been told knows a lot about the social service organizations in the area. I want to explore opportunities for Myrna when she comes to visit me in June. But Bro. T. was not there. So after that I went to other PCVs, Joanie, Steve and Joe at Rock Beach Hotel for chess and commiseration about teaching problems. The commiseration was supportive – it is nice to know that I am not alone in facing students here. The chess game was sloppy. Joe gave me his queen, then I got careless as I bore in to administer the coup de gras to his king and he came out of it with my queen and knight so beat me in the end. We now stand at Joe=1, Lee=2.
Then I dropped in on Gunje, another chemistry teacher. We both need to get our students into the laboratory, and I wanted to talk to him about what we can really do with them if we have only one balance for 55 students. How can they weigh out materials to make up standard solutions with only one weighing station? That question didn’t get answered, but we decided that there should be a meeting of the Chemistry Department. And he insisted that I stay for dinner, which consisted of excellent roasted fish with a big bowl of peanuts on the side, cold chipsy (home fries) and soda.
That made me late for my meeting with the students of II-B who had asked to meet with me. It was fun. We sat on rocks under the trees and talked about why I was there, the differences between Tz and American education and students and opportunities for employment in Tz. They asked the inevitable “How can I go study in the US,” to which I replied that I could not help them, and that it is difficult to find a way to get to the US to study especially since Sept 11. Surprisingly they did not know what happened on that date, so we talked about that some. They unanimously felt that the US is making enemies for itself around the world and should not be trying to control the world by itself.
At the end of the meeting, one of the students brought out his camera and we had a festival of picture taking. The group with me, small groups with me, individuals with me... What a celebrity I am!
Well the rain stopped, and now has come back again. Frogs are peeping in thanks for the fresh water. I’ve had to go flip the circuit breaker about every five minutes to keep the power on as I write this posting for my journal. I am going to give up on the power, go back to bed, and listen to the rain on the roof from there. Good night.
Saturday, February 07, 2004
In December I had been working with Erasto as my Kiswahili instructor. Erasto is a very nice guy, young, soft spoken and mild. We have become friends. But he is to forgiving as my language instructor, and he seems to fumble on some grammer questions. So I had a talk with Anna Unpronounceable Name today. She teaches English Lit to the upper grade. She opted out of being my instructor, but in the course of discussing who would be good in this capacity, we talked about her course. She uses African authors who write in English to develop and express African issues, and offered to loan some books to me.
So this evening I was sitting out on a rock with a distant vista of Lake Victoria, reading aloud the poetry of Okot p’Bitek: Song of Lawino. This is powerful stuff! It presents the feelings of a traditional African wife whose husband has studied abroad and returned to take a second “modern” wife and who now berates his original wife as uneducated, dirty, stupid and worthless.
This is a long poem – a small book, really. Think Walt Whitman. Let me quote a rather small section of one of the tamer parts for you, and of course it is best to read it aloud. This section the European and the traditional relationships to time.
Time has become
My husband’s master
It is my husband’s husband.
My husband runs from place to place
Like a small boy,
He rushes without dignity.
And when visitors have arrived
My husband’s face darkens,
He never asks you in,
And for greeting
He says
‘What can I do for you?’
I do not know
How to keep the white man’s time.
My mother taught me
The way of the Acoli
And nobody should
Shout at me
Because I know
The customs of our people!
When the baby cries
Let him suck milk
From the breast.
There is no fixed time
For breast feeding.
When the baby cries
It may be he is ill,
The first medicine for a child
Is the breast.
Give him milk
And he will stop crying,
And if he is ill
Let him suck the breast
While the medicine-man
Is being called
From the beer party.
Children in our homestead
Do not sleep at fixed times.
When sleep comes
Into their head
They sleep,
When sleep leaves their head
They wake up.
When a child is dirty
Give him a wash,
You do not first look at the sun!
When there is no water
In the house
You cannot wash the child
Even if it is time
For his bath!
Listen
My husband,
In the wisdom of the Acoli
Time is not stupidly split up
Into seconds and minutes,
It does not flow
Like beer in a pot
That is sucked
Until it is finished.
It does not resemble
A loaf of millet bread
Surrounded by hungry youths
From a hunt;
It does not get finished
Like vegetables in the dish ...
I don’t know whether this book is available from some place like amazon.com, but my copy was printed in 2001: Song of Lawino, by Okot p’Bitek, ISBN 9966-46-708-4.
So this evening I was sitting out on a rock with a distant vista of Lake Victoria, reading aloud the poetry of Okot p’Bitek: Song of Lawino. This is powerful stuff! It presents the feelings of a traditional African wife whose husband has studied abroad and returned to take a second “modern” wife and who now berates his original wife as uneducated, dirty, stupid and worthless.
This is a long poem – a small book, really. Think Walt Whitman. Let me quote a rather small section of one of the tamer parts for you, and of course it is best to read it aloud. This section the European and the traditional relationships to time.
Time has become
My husband’s master
It is my husband’s husband.
My husband runs from place to place
Like a small boy,
He rushes without dignity.
And when visitors have arrived
My husband’s face darkens,
He never asks you in,
And for greeting
He says
‘What can I do for you?’
I do not know
How to keep the white man’s time.
My mother taught me
The way of the Acoli
And nobody should
Shout at me
Because I know
The customs of our people!
When the baby cries
Let him suck milk
From the breast.
There is no fixed time
For breast feeding.
When the baby cries
It may be he is ill,
The first medicine for a child
Is the breast.
Give him milk
And he will stop crying,
And if he is ill
Let him suck the breast
While the medicine-man
Is being called
From the beer party.
Children in our homestead
Do not sleep at fixed times.
When sleep comes
Into their head
They sleep,
When sleep leaves their head
They wake up.
When a child is dirty
Give him a wash,
You do not first look at the sun!
When there is no water
In the house
You cannot wash the child
Even if it is time
For his bath!
Listen
My husband,
In the wisdom of the Acoli
Time is not stupidly split up
Into seconds and minutes,
It does not flow
Like beer in a pot
That is sucked
Until it is finished.
It does not resemble
A loaf of millet bread
Surrounded by hungry youths
From a hunt;
It does not get finished
Like vegetables in the dish ...
I don’t know whether this book is available from some place like amazon.com, but my copy was printed in 2001: Song of Lawino, by Okot p’Bitek, ISBN 9966-46-708-4.
Tuesday, February 03, 2004
Ay what a roller coaster, this teaching. I dreaded going to teach my class this morning because it was so difficult in all three classes yesterday. Only about half the students had even tried to do the homework over the weekend and of those who did, very few had any success at all. So I had to go over previous material instead of starting new work, and they still weren’t getting it. I would look out at the classes and see nothing but zombies with fish eyes staring back at me. Although I had said I would collect and grade their homework, I just simply gave up on that. After class the students were full of complaints – I hadn’t gone over examples in class, why are we studying this, where is this topic in the syllabus, we had this last year, we want to concentrate on what will be on the National Examination ...
So I teach two classes today and expected more of the same. Especially since my first class today was the group of students who are repeating the subject after failing it last year. They are generally considered hopeless by the other teachers. But, surprise of surprises, quite a few had done the homework, and with success! A few even volunteered to solve the homework problems on the board! We went over the work, then I emphasized what they must know from the last lesson and actually moved into new territory. After class, one student insisted on carrying my books to the next class, and a whole gang insisted that I do look over their homework and grade it! That group hung around and we continued to discuss chemistry with animation and interest. I feel so grateful to this class right now!
LATER: Of course I am not out of the woods just yet. Today’s second class is usually my most enjoyable, and today was no exception. They volunteer in class, laugh with and at me and themselves, and are generally uninhibited. But after class, a couple of the good students and I began talking, and I invited them to my home. We talked about what teaching style works for them. They really want, and need, to have the teacher write the material on the board so they can copy it and look at it before class discussion and applications. So OK, I will do my best to accommodate that style and we will see how it goes.
So I teach two classes today and expected more of the same. Especially since my first class today was the group of students who are repeating the subject after failing it last year. They are generally considered hopeless by the other teachers. But, surprise of surprises, quite a few had done the homework, and with success! A few even volunteered to solve the homework problems on the board! We went over the work, then I emphasized what they must know from the last lesson and actually moved into new territory. After class, one student insisted on carrying my books to the next class, and a whole gang insisted that I do look over their homework and grade it! That group hung around and we continued to discuss chemistry with animation and interest. I feel so grateful to this class right now!
LATER: Of course I am not out of the woods just yet. Today’s second class is usually my most enjoyable, and today was no exception. They volunteer in class, laugh with and at me and themselves, and are generally uninhibited. But after class, a couple of the good students and I began talking, and I invited them to my home. We talked about what teaching style works for them. They really want, and need, to have the teacher write the material on the board so they can copy it and look at it before class discussion and applications. So OK, I will do my best to accommodate that style and we will see how it goes.
