Still Caring

It’s been an awfully long time but I am going to try to be more diligent with blogging. I thought the best way to break my year long silence here would be to write a snapshot of an average day here in the lovely albeit small town of Rukara, this is the story of yesterday. Yesterday started off like any other day. I woke up at 5:30 and scrambled to finish making a poster (more specifically 3 posters) with the lyrics from “Summer Nights” from Grease which I will be using to teach irregular verbs in the past simple to my S1 students. I know from the get go that today will be a doozy. Before I know it it is 7:00 am and I am nearly going to be late for school. I quickly scarf down some dried mango and chug a cup of coffee ( I know I will need it) and dash out the door. Now lucky for me it is the rainy season which gives us a most needed break from the scorching sun. The trade off however is about 5 inches of squishy, slippery mud everywhere. I delicately walk/ski/slide across the school property juggling my three posters, 500 different handouts for the day, a ball (for a warm-up activity), bag of markers, box of prizes, speakers, my computer and a large roll of tape. On the way I greet about 750 itty bitty primary school students. I pass one group of students who appear to be snorting cocaine. On closer look its really just dried koolaid…so I guess that’s better? I literally slide into class for the first lesson of the day: S3B. The topic of the day is Human Rights. This is exciting because I love doing lessons on content that actually matters as opposed to just drilling past simple irregular verbs. I have decided to print out the UN Declaration of Human rights for the lesson. This document, if you have never read it, is chock full of inspiring, fantastically delicious prose. This also, however, means that its full to the brim of very complex vocabulary. Needless to say I over estimated my ability to explain them in English let alone Kinyarwanda. To try and bring the idea that laws are different than rights and that rules should exist to protect rights and not to hurt them I have decided to try a demonstration. I announce that I will be implementing some new rules starting today. I tell students that from now on I will consider row one the good students, they will be the only ones to get books, dictionaries and special prizes from me (I give out pencils). The second row I have determined is no longer allowed to speak in class (they were concerningly ok with this) and finally the third row was declared to be the bad students. They would no longer be allowed to sit in class. They would receive punishment everyday. As well intentioned at the exercise what, it was a bit of a failure-well-in the first two classes at least. The students are used to being told what to do and following un-questioningly. I am not sure if they really understood the concept of an unjust law. Planting seeds right? After 4 straight hours with S3 comes the most anxiety inducing part of my day: going to the toilet. This event causes me daily anxiety not because of the germs-I am pretty sure I am immune to everything by now, not because I have to walk half a mile through a muddy field watched by 1,000 curious eyes- you learn to walk carefully, not because of the 700 flies that buzz around the hole or the fact that there is no toilet paper, water or soap for washing afterwards. No no no my anxiety comes from the fact that some engineering genius decided to put the lock on the OUTSIDE of the latrine and locate the teachers toilets in the middle of the Primary school playground. I desperately fear that one day some smart ass 5 year old is going to lock me in the toilet. Why do I fear this??? Because it HAPPENED the second day here at my home by a 4 year old!!! And it would be so much more humiliating at school. But fortunately for me that did not happen today, today I was safe from certain smelly, claustrophobic death. For today at least. Thus relieved I return to teaching. Now I have two hours with S1A. That lovely, precious, eager group of young minds who understand so very little of what I say. Today I am excited because we are going to sing “summer nights” and I feel confident they will love it. False. Do you know how many key changes there are in that song?!?! Things you just don’t think about when you choose a song for class. Additionally, apparently “Summer Nights” was too much of a jump in vocabulary and melodic complexity from our last song “Hello, Goodbye” by the Beatles. Yes, that’s probably true. I concede. But not in class I didn’t . Sigh. I find that I often over reach in class. I love challenging my students but there’s a delicate balance. A little challenge is good and promotes thinking and trying and growing, a lot of challenge makes students give up, check out and go crazy. Too often I lean towards the second. If I have said it once I have said it a thousand times: teaching is an art…no doubt about it…hopefully I am getting there. Anyways 6 hours of classes later the school day ends. I’m sorry you may have thought there that I meant I was finished…o contrare. After school a film crew from Kigali comes to my school to film me teaching yet ANOTHER lesson with 7 MORE teaching aids to a DIFFERENT group of students. This lesson is about current events. I am participating in a television program series here called SMART LEARNING in which I work with different teachers to prepare lessons that promote good teaching methods. This week no teacher would agree to do it so that left yours truly as the only candidate. I reel in the students who I have chosen to stay after school to be in the program. We arrange the desks, clean the floor, get our supplies situated and are just about ready to begin when….oh yes that would be rain you here POUNDING on the roof making it impossible to be heard. We wait for about 20 minutes and then the rain subsides enough that we can continue the lesson. I teach the hour and a half lesson, the students do their presentations, the film crew films and then it’s a wrap. The crew brings in fanta for the students, two of them get sick from chugging too fast (mind you they are 19 years old) and then I send them home. At this point I am FINALLY able to pack up my bips and bops and start on the treacherous 5 minute walk home. On the way I meet several students who have apparently camped out along my path to ask for various favors: chalk, to come running with me tomorrow, to check their homework, to come to GLOW camp (still 4 months away) you know, the usual. At 5:30, I FINALLY make it home and turn to close the door for the night when low and behold the door won’t shut because three wiggly giggly girls are holding it open with shrieks and screams of “YOUR HOME!” and I know that I am home. I sit down to collect my strength before sliding down to the floor to draw on princess paper with my girls (neighbors from my compound) and try to remember what my neighbor said about people being lucky if kids like them, that they will find blessings in their lives when kids camp out at their home. Damn I must be lucky☺ Around 6 I start cooking dinner only to find that the electricity has gone out. I give up that endeavor and decide it will be a trailmix and banana kind of a night and I sit down to finish preparing my lessons for tomorrow amid a pile of arms and legs and fingers in my hair (literally). At 8 pm I send the children out with wishes of “dreams of God” and I just about collapse. But not before a quick chat with that ever patient, ever loving, ever thoughtful fiancé of mine. And that’s a wrap. Another PCV recently said to me, “Wow Caitlyn that’s so sweet you still care.” I looked at him blankly, trying to determine his meaning. What, I asked him sincerely, was the alternative? NOT CARING??? That seems like a revolting idea. I hope I always care, I hope I always try even when I am the only on (as it often feels at my school). The good news is that caring is catching and energy is contagious. I hope you’ve got the bug too and if not, share some of mine☺ Yours truly and ever caring, Caitlyn