The Tourists
Rock art - the lion man
Robot Beetle
Almost the size of a hockey puck...
Windows of Hope after school program
March 27, 2008
It occurs to me that today may not the best day to write a blog post. I’m not sure if I can explain why the whole day went awry but I can say that the only one who can sympathize with me is Shania Twain - “There’s no way but up from here…”
You can judge but let me just say, Shania has her place. And it’s with the country folk. And some days you just need to hear about someone else’s dog that died, the guy that got away or the truck that just wouldn’t start. And now that your reading is tainted with the fact that I still listen to Shania Twain, let’s move on. Shall we?
I’m sure you’re all dying to know what happened on my Easter vacation. I only know you are because I’m dying to tell you. I left Khorixas on Thursday morning. I took my bag down to the hike point (where you catch a cab or otherwise obtain a ride) and had to wait about 10 minutes before someone told me a white man around the corner was taking a truck to Swakopmund. I was a little skeptical and it turns out the informant’s cover story of good will towards men was a ruse and he was looking for a free cooldrink. So after he showed me the man with the truck and said man with truck offered me a free ride to the coast, I paid for his cooldrink: N$7.00 worth of cooldrink! Fancy! The only catch was that the truck was a cattle truck filled with feed and the road from Khorixas to the coast is dirt. But that catch was quickly glazed over by the fact that I was getting a N$110 ride for free. I would deal with the fact that it was going to be a 9 hour-long free ride later. After a short scare that I would have to ride in the back with the feed (and about ten learners who were trying to get to their farms for the long weekend), I was offered a spot in the cab.
It was a great ride on a road I’ve never been on before. It was just the sort of thing I needed after so long in one place. The man who offered me the ride has lived in Khorixas since, I believe, 1980. He came to the city as an Agriculture officer in the government. While he’s lived here he built the Multisave, the petrol station, butchery and the rest camp in town (the one I’ve never been to). Along the ride he pointed out specific farms and dams that belong to important people or that had interesting stories. About an hour into the ride we stopped at a farm to pick up a man and his wife who were trying to sell firewood on the coast. Of course the stop took three times longer than expected. It was nice to be able to see the famous “farm” though. I can see why my learners love to get back to their farms. Most of the farms we passed had some fashion of standing water to swim in. There were a lot of windmills and cows and large green fields. It all looked ideal. I’m sure a lot of it seemed so pretty because we’re currently at the peak of greenery. But home is home and I’m sure they love it in the brown of the year too. While we were stopped, I was offered a cup of coffee and a little history lesson. I was told that Khorixas is called the heart of Damaraland because South Africa bought the city and the surrounding farms and gave them to the Damara. They did the same with Okakarara for the Hereros, Keetmanshoop for the Nama and different cities for all the other tribes. South Africa wanted to give each tribe a homeland. I didn’t quite catch the motivation behind giving land to certain tribes but, overall, the tone wasn’t cheery. I do recall that the South African presence in Namibia was likened to the United States’ current presence in the Middle East – a comparison made more than once with a similar un-cheery tone. Luckily, I could tell they didn’t hold US politics against me (and my unwillingness to discuss them) because I was given a second cup of coffee and a second lesson on Agriculture - Khorixas is named after the Khori bush… in case you were wondering.
It turns out that my free ride was only to Heinties Bay, which is about 50K north of Swakopmund. It’s a nice place from what I could tell but stopping there meant I had to find a taxi. I thanked my free ride and asked a petrol station attendant where the hike point was. He said to have a seat at the take-away and he would stay on the lookout for a taxi. After not eating since 6:30 and spending large amounts of time in a semi, the mushroom and chicken meat pie at the take-away was calling my name. I was one bite into it when a driver came over and said it was time to go now now. I realized that it was the first time I was in a taxi without another American. The language and culture barrier was almost too much to handle. But, we’ve decided that when you feel the most awkward is probably when you’re experiencing the culture the most and you’re one step closer to integrating. So I embraced four adults in the back seat while being the only one of them that spoke English. It cost N$40 for the taxi but, considering the circumstances, I think I got ripped off.
I made it to Swakopmund at 2 in the afternoon. We had started driving that morning at 9 (after all the expected errands around Khorixas that we’ve all come to know and love). Five hours seems like record time with all the stops and less than ideal means of transportation. When I arrived in Swakop I was in shock, awe and amazement. After touring the location to drop off the four other passengers in the taxi, I was taken to the town. When we rolled into town it was as though I was driving back to America. The streets were paved and busy. There were traffic lights, cafés, a lighthouse, and lots and lots of people.
The first day in Swakop was really chill. Seven out of the nine in Otjimbingwe for CBT decided to come to our little reunion. When most of them had arrived, we went out for a late lunch – we all got salad! Some of the salads even had olives! I missed vegetables. Leslie, the PCV in Swakop, forgot to warn the town that PCVs who had been trapped in small villages for two months were coming and that they would marvel at small things like salad dressing, waiters and two story buildings. After lunch was an obligatory stop at the beach and then Super spar, “just to breathe the air”. I believe I even heard “Super spar is my idol” and “My Mecca is Super spar”… Me thinks the PCVs like Super spar. I’m not one to object especially because I found tiny bags of peanut M&M’s tucked into the far corner of the candy isle. Yippee. Then we headed to Leslie’s to catch up, complain about site, do impressions of learners and, generally, remember that we’re not alone in the world. The day ended with a movie on Leslie’s computer (Dream Girls), a shower (with hot water) and blow-drying my hair (am I in heaven?).
Friday morning I woke up at 6 am. Waking up at 6 am is great if I have to go to work, if I’m in my own house or if I’m even in a house where everyone isn’t sleeping on every available floor space until 9 in the morning. But after some finagling I managed to get on some warm clothes (Swakop is cold… well, cold for someone who currently lives on the face of the sun) and walking shoes and go for a walk. It was nice to walk around and be ignored. After my walk and the dead bodies on Leslie’s floor woke up and got ready we all went shopping. Since it was Independence Day, though, all the stores were closed. So, we went to Wimpies for burgers instead. I really wanted to have a hamburger because I don’t eat a lot of meat (mostly lentils and sometimes tuna or chicken, when the price is good). But it turns out that Wimpies’ hamburgers aren’t that good. The meal was saved, though, because their milkshakes are awesome… And I never thought I would write anything like those two sentences in my blog about Africa…
The afternoon was spent lounging on the beach and meeting other NAM27ers who decided to come to Swakop for the long weekend. There were two other groups. One stayed at a backpackers’ hostel just down the street from Leslie’s and the other stayed at a rest camp on the edge of town. The group in the backpackers’ hostel had an extreme weekend planned – they went skydiving on Saturday and sea kayaking on Sunday. As far as I can tell, the group in the rest camp just did a lot of drinking… guess they’re integrating. But, Friday on the beach was a great day with too many Americans to count. Some of us got soft serve ice cream and other took a swim in the ocean. I spent most of Friday in shock and awe also. The beach we were on most closely resembled the Santa Monica Pier and Waikiki. Wow, life’s tough on PC vacation. Thanks Uncle Sam.
Friday night we made a salad at the volunteer house and tried out a pub Leslie had been waiting for friends to check out. Saturday morning was another early morning for me. I spent about an hour wandering around the city on my own and came back to a completely silent house. Luckily, Leslie was awake too so we went out for omelets and hit up some clothes stores on the way back. I got some new shirts with long sleeves - I’ve got high hopes for winter weather. That afternoon, we all went to the beach again and then to a movie theater. The movie theater reminded me of one you could find on an Air Force base, except smaller. The movie showing was 27 Dresses. I’m not sure when it really came out but I don’t remember hearing anything about it before I left the states so I’m going to pretend it’s really recent. It was cute and definitely worth my time while in Namibia, but that’s a skewed opinion. That night we went out for seafood. I had fish and chips and was almost completely convinced we were no longer in Namibia. Luckily, our food took about an hour and a half, so I could continue to believe I was on the continent of Africa.
Sunday was more of the same but with pizza. We got a tub of ice cream at Super spar and celebrated the sunset on the beach with a game of “never have I ever [insert someone’s pastime here]”. If you have ever [insert someone’s pastime here] you eat a bite of ice cream. It was fun but I definitely learned that Peace Corps volunteers are crazy.
Monday I caught a ride with part of the group from the backpackers’ hostel (some of the group included Jill, Amanda and the VSO from Outjo, and one health volunteer from the north). The VSO of the group had a car and was willing to drive us all the Outjo if we just split the petrol. It was so nice to be in car that went directly where we needed exactly when we needed it to. She didn’t even run any errands around the location before we left. I was just glad they didn’t shun me for having a seemingly mundane weekend while they conquered their fear of jumping out of airplanes… though I have yet to see any proof that Jill actually jumped. I think she’s hiding her video from me. It seems you look like you’re about to die right before you jump out of an airplane and who want to publicize that face.
I got home that evening just before dark. We had a long stop in Outjo that involved accidentally falling asleep on Amanda’s floor and then scrambling for a taxi back to Khorixas. The bakkie Jill and I ended up in only went 80K/hour the whole way. And, while thankful for the safety that speed includes, it’s hard to sit in a bakkie for that long.
The whole weekend was really exciting and really relaxing. And, yet, after I write it all out for you, it seems really lame. I guess you’ll just have to believe me that it was great… but that’s a skewed opinion.
April 3, 2008
When you are teaching Namibian children, at times, you are choosing to talk differently than you would in America. You are choosing the words you use carefully. Many times it is taking very much energy to use words and tenses they will know. The clever learners become tired of slow like-singing speaking. But for the good of the whole class, we are speaking badly in English sometimes. The learners are just now studying and writing exams for the end of term. Today they were having English. Tomorrow they will be writing English again. The Natural Science exam will be written on Tuesday. It was very much fun to spend study time with the learners today. They have chosen to spend their study time in the library learning science. They have stood in front of the room and said as much information from memory as they could. Some of them have said the small intestine is coming just after the mouth in the Digestive system. This has made me laugh. We have learned differently since then – we have learned that the Pharynx and esophagus are coming just after the mouth. These learners are special. They are special because some days they are making me angry. Other days they are making me smile and laugh. Sometimes they are making me laugh and making me angry at the same time. It is nice to teach them science and it is nice to talk with them.
Wow, that took a lot more energy to write than to actually speak. When I read back over the paragraph, it sounds ridiculous. If another American is around to witness this sort of English, I usually get laughed at. I can see why now. The other teachers told me that my English is getting easier to understand – they are “coping” with me, was the exact wording, I believe. The learners are quicker to understand me because they’re forced to listen to me daily. Captive audience. I knew there was a reason I liked teaching.
The translation of the poorly written paragraph above:
The learners are now writing (taking) their exams for the end of the first term (there are three in a school year). They have two weeks of exams with only one exam per day. Some subjects have two exams. That is why English takes up two days. Natural science is next Tuesday for grade seven. The exam is ridiculous for many reasons. None of which I believe I could communicate effectively on a blog without offending someone. But I can say, when I first read over the exam, I was infuriated. I think I may have even turned red. The exam is…bogus. But, once I knew the challenge, I made a plan of attack and have been reviewing the “pertinent” information with the kids. This afternoon, I had an optional science review during study. I presented the information and review questions on each topic. The learners would “secretly” look things up in their notes, hidden under their chair or on their friend’s back, to answer the questions first. I don’t think they caught that I actually wanted them to look in their notes and remember. It was cute either way. Then I would have them close their eyes and try to recite things and they would secretly peak when they couldn’t (like when they told me the digestive system progressed: mouth, small intestine, stomach, anus. Eww). Honestly, it was all a lot of fun. When we were training, someone from Nam26 advised us to try to make the learners laugh everyday. He said it would make your whole experience better. Usually, it’s the other way around though. These kids crack me up. Sometimes its because they’re oblivious – but that’s beside the point.
Speaking of cracking up. I heard my first pun from a Namibian today. It went like this:
“Miss, this one is eating all the time in the hostel. She is eating so much. And she is not bathing. Everyday, she is waking up first and she is not bathing…” – Grade 7 girl, joking about her friend
“Miss, this one is lying! She is lying!” – accused friend
“Miss, you can see. I am not lying. I am standing. I am standing here. Not lying” – First girl
Oh, kids.
April 6, 2008
I just succeeded in setting my own watch. This proves two things. First, it proves that I am, in fact, a rocket scientist. I know this because my watch has 18 functions and three buttons. Programming some of these functions require holding down all three buttons at the same time, then repeatedly pushing one until the correct time and date appear. And, even when I have finagled my fingers to perform such a task, I still have to use my rocket science powers to actually figure out what time and day it really is. You see, leap day confused the date on my watch and my poor learners have been living one day in the future in all of my classes. But we were coping. Then, today, it was too much to handle when, at 2:00 this afternoon, the whole country decided to fall back without telling me. So, I took matters into my own hand, subsequently proving that, secondly, I am the most low maintenance person on the planet. Tiny instructions? In Russian? For a different watch model? Did I complain? No. Did I give up? No. Self-sufficient? Me? Yes.
…Unless, of course, I’m the worst kind – I think I’m low maintenance, but really am high maintenance… Oh, Harry.
Erin. That’s for you.
April 11, 2008
I have decided that one of my favorite things in this world are children who have no idea they’re being watched. I caught a little girl having a lengthy conversation with her good friend Thin Air today. It took a good 45 seconds before she realized I was standing there. It was cute. Also, I just ran into this little boy who was convinced he was spider man. I’m pretty sure he was in the middle of working on his theme-song movie intro. There were some great Kung fu kicks in there. I would say 5 if I had to guess his time on earth thus far.
I have also decided that one of my least favorite things in this world are children who want to see: what happens when I push this button eighteen times? Oh, miss Jessica turns red. And that, my friends, is a quality in children that transcends time and culture. And I am also sure my parents and their friends are thinking, k k k karma!
Well, yesterday, I experienced Namibian culture. Done and done. I found it all on my own. It was very conveniently located at my local Parent-Teacher meeting. Oh gosh.
Last night was the first term parents meeting. It “started” at 5pm. I realized that having a supervisor that focuses on punctuality has spoiled me. Occasionally, our 6:50 morning meetings will start at 6:55 or 7:00. But just as often, they start at 6:48 and I walk in on the tail-end of the prayer (unless of course it’s my morning to pray. In which case, it doesn’t start as long as I can keep praying. And I pray in American English, so I could talk for a while and say a lot. Though, sometimes they miss the “Amen” and I have to say it a few times to get everyone to open their eyes). Overall though, our punctual morning meetings have made me forget that 5:00 usually means 5:30 or 6:00 and “now” means later. So, the meeting actually started around 5:45. It was held in the hostel-dining hall. Our school (I hear) is rather large. So the dining hall is a fair size also. All 20 of the teachers and I were placed at a row of tables on a stage in the front of the dining hall. I’m not exactly sure why this set up was chosen but I did find the stare-down aspect of it rather humorous.
At the beginning of the meeting I was introduced to the parents. It was nice to be associated with a group. The teachers were cute as they gave me social cues. Whispering, “stand up now”, “sit down” and pre-warning the crowd that I say my “r”s like my mouth is full of marbles. There was a lot of Damara and then “Jessica Royer” said like a mix between Humphrey Bogart and Scooby Doo. That’s when you know you’re up – the Humphrey-Scooby accent. The other new teacher was introduced also. He’s rather popular in Khorixas though so his introduction was short.
After the introductions, the group spent a few minutes deciding which of Namibia’s plethora of languages the meeting should be translated to. This part was interesting to me because I was unaware of some of the cultural backgrounds at our school. Not everyone in Damaraland is Damara. But most of them do learn the language… unlike their lazy volunteer. I suppose, “but its so hard” just wouldn’t impress you and it would certainly negate the whole watch setting victory from last weekend. How about, “I’ll try harder”. In the end, it seemed that all who could not understand Damara were good in Afrikaans. It was decided the meeting would be conducted in Damara, translated into Afrikaans, with token poppy seeds of English thrown in here and there. I most definitely understand this set up but, honestly, it made me bow my head and laugh throughout the meeting. When someone would get done ranting about covering books or tardiness of learners another would inevitably shout, “Afrikaans!” and the ten-minute spiel would have to be repeated in a second language. Luckily, one of our teachers works at a church (I believe he’s a pastor) and is very good at translating. So when a parent or teacher would speak who was not fluent in one of the other languages, this teacher would jump up and fly through the other required languages. Every so often, he’s a goofball about it. Someone would be speaking in English, get passionate about something and slip back into mother tongue. This teacher just jumps from translating into mother tongue and start translating into English. I really think that translating is a gift. Languages are beyond me. I would like to be able to do what this man does but the gift just eludes me.
Throughout the meeting we covered a variety of topics… or at least it seems we did – mine was the poppy seed language. Two hours into the meeting, it was my turn to inform the parents about a girls’ club I’m trying to get off the ground for second and third term (as per usual, Jill and I are in cahoots about it). I asked one of the female teachers who works closely with the girls in the hostel to help me with my presentation. I was worried that the parents would not understand. It may have been better to ask an upper primary teacher (who teaches in English) to translate but they’re all male. I wanted someone who knows the girls and works with the girls to help me. We just stuck to the script during our two minute presentation and this teacher did great. I really like her. She is always willing to help me. I feel like clueless would get annoying but she never seems to get fed up with me. I thought the parents would appreciate that I was short and sweet and to the point. However, it seems a girls’ club is actually a topic for hot debate. Why not boys? I had quite a few answers welling up, some of them were not so polite: “Well, if you think a boys club is so important, why don’t you just…” Luckily, before I got a single word in, my hero teacher jumped up and answered for me. She said, “When you educate a girl you educate a community…” Beautifully put. Thank you. But, seriously, if this dad wants a boys club why doesn’t he just… I mean, why would the female American teacher spearhead a club to… I mean, come on.
The meeting lasted two and half-hours in total. I was so impressed with a few small kids in the crowd. They entertained themselves by pulling their shirt over their head to see how dark they could get it or by sliding down in their chair and then shooting up as tall as they could sit. I remember those days and its got to be worse when you only understand a third of what’s going on. They didn’t make a peep though. The teachers at the head table started pulling out newspapers and cell phones (myself included). At one point, they even started passing around a bottle of new perfume someone bought. The sitting was intense, but we all managed to pull through. After the meeting, I thought about sticking around and meeting some parents but it seems they were even more interested in dinner. Understandable. Instead, I just walked out the door, took a few steps, walked into my flat, turned on some Beatles and hid - You say you want a revolution? Well, you know, we all want to change the world.
Today was our third to last day of exams. My grade six math class will write two math exams next week. The first one will be easy for about half of them (the ones who listen in class). The second test is going to kick all of their butts. I taught the material. They weren’t getting it though. In the end, we just ran out of time in the term. Recently, I’ve realized that it’s not always the kids’ fault when they don’t get something. I can think back on a few times in my life where it was really obviously the teacher’s fault and I blamed it on myself. When more than three quarters of the class is drawing a blank, something has gone awry. It doesn’t help that the second test will be their last test. By then, all they’re thinking about is jumping into the dam at the farm. Who wants to be changing a mixed number to an improper fraction at that time in the term? Seriously.
Tuesday was grade seven’s day. Since then, I’ve sat in that library staring at far too many Natural science exams written by far too many learners who have never taken a spelling test (you have to remember it’s a verbal culture – speaking 4 languages is no big deal. Writing in them all? Almost unheard of). If you’ll allow me a few examples:
Q: What are four things boys can expect during puberty?
A: He get hers on faes. He get hers unda hams.
Q: What system is the brain, spinal cord and nerves a part of?
A: the System system
Q: What is a sphincter?
A: Killing a person
Q: Describe two adaptations of fish to their environment.
A: the fish is aw food and fish is good for pebpls.
Q: Mention three things that are important for a good relationship.
A: You must no peat each other.
Or
A: Kiss the Laydy. Be vei full.
Q: Mention some ways to maintain sexual health.
A: Sai a wei frum boys.
Love it.
But, I did go cross-eyed trying to finagle points for these kids. Now that I’m done grading their papers I have to hand them in to be moderated. It just means the subject head at our school has to check and make sure my grading is ok. I’m a little worried about this because a lot of my good learners got around 50%. I’m worried that the subject head is going to make me grade them all again because too many my learners scored too high (that’s right, 50 is high). Does this happen other places? Is it weird for a whole class to pass (in my case its really only about 25 kids but that’s beside the point)? I don’t remember it being weird but I’m forgetting.
Luckily, in grade six, I don’t have to worry about re-grading. The kids will take care of that for me… oh, gosh. These kids. I can’t even imagine. They’re set up to fail - literally expected to. Hey mom, dad, thanks for telling me I could be a ballerina or oceanographer or artist. Good childhood. You did good.
Speaking of good parents, I got three packages when I went to the post office today. “Nampost” only gets packages on Thursday from Otjiwarongo. Then is takes them a week or four to let us know they have one for us. Honestly, I only go to the post office with really low expectations these days. I went today with the same expectations but felt a little of my 1st grade self come out when the PO box was empty. I didn’t think it was important but it turns out spending my birthday without even a card was actually going to get to me. Lucky for me, Jill is more proactive about such things and generally asks inside the post office. Usually, this doesn’t actually do anything though - They don’t know our boxes are back there. But today, they magically produced three boxes for me. Yippee! There’s definitely happy birthday paper in one of them. I’m admiring the wrapping job just now. Thanks family.
In the other two boxes? Girl scout cookies. I’m feeling sick.
15 April 2008
Today was the last day of school for the learners. At our 10:00 break we all met in the middle of the school to officially close the term. In the morning, I spent most of my time in the library trying to mark and organize papers. I say trying because the grade sevens have taken to sitting on the desk staring at me for the past week. I tell them to leave and go study for their next exam but, like “good” kids, they leave for a few minutes and come right back. It wouldn’t be so bad if they weren’t sooo much more interesting than their exams - By the end of most days I find that I’ve talked more about hair and boys and America and mothers than grading science and math exams. Anyway, I was actually getting some work done today when my learners came in and said, “Miiiiiiissssss! (said like “mass” with a Georgia accent at the top of your lungs) it’s finished! It’s time to go!” I said, “I’m coming just now.” (which means I’ll be right there). I walked out to the official closing and found all the learners and one teacher. The learners are really good about using these lull times to practice their singing. Whenever my learners practice their impromptu singing is when I most feel like I’m in Africa. I’m not sure why this is, but if you visit and listen, I’m sure you’ll feel that way too. We have assemblies a lot, so I occupied my normal spot along, what I like to call, the firing squad wall (the teachers all stand in front to stare down the learners). Every so often, one of my learners would run up and tell me to have a wonderful holiday and that they were going to miss me. Now, they could have just been trying to score cute points but I think it was genuine… but even if it wasn’t, it was cute.
After the assembly, all the learners left to go home. The rest of today has been really quiet and a little eerie. Every hour or so someone will knock on my door to tell me they are leaving. I tell them to be safe and have fun and then they’re gone in whatever bakkie or cart that has come to collect them. By the time all of them make it back from the farm it will be a month before I see them again. I’m ready for the break but we have just spent a lot of quality time (three and a half months) with each other. I think I’m going to miss them too.
In our work time for the rest of the week, my supervisor is requesting that all upper primary teachers prepare lesson plans for the beginning of second term. Personally, I think this is really wise plan because I’m not expecting to go anywhere near my preparation binder in my three weeks off. Currently, I am working on my natural science lesson plans. This term, we started with health educations, moved on to systems of the body and finished with ecosystems. Next term we are starting with the scientific method and then moving quickly to matter. I’m not sure what comes after matter because I haven’t gotten that far. We have two government issued papers that dictate what to teach and when to teach it: the Scheme of Work and the Syllabus. The Scheme of work tells us when to teach each topic. The syllabus tells you what the kids actually need to know and be able to do for the exams. Then, you have to fill out your plan to execute these requirements and file them in your preparation binder. Personally, I like this system because I’m the kind of person who goes to the office supply section of a store “just to look”. Dividers make my day… Anyway, in all my planning, I found some interesting requirements that I thought I would share with you.
In the Scheme of Work for the beginning of term two:
Themes: Scientific Process
Topics:
1) Estimating and Measuring
2) Observing
3) Classifying
Allotted time: 1 week
Ok. Fair enough. Now, let’s breeze over to the syllabus to investigate what each of these topics actually require the learners to know.
Topic 1: Estimating and Measuring
Learning objective: Learners will know how to estimate and measure length, mass, time, temperature and the area of regularly shaped (right-angled) objects.
Basic competencies: Learners should be able to 1) Estimate and measure: length, mass, time and temperature; temperature of melting ice; the height of a fellow learner and the mass of school bags using appropriate methods. 2) Calculate the area of regularly shaped (right angled) objects. 3) Convert minutes and hours to seconds. 4) Convert units of length, mass, time and area. 5) Follow sequence of instructions. Use appropriate techniques. Handle apparatus/material competently and have due regard for safety. 6) make and record estimates and measurements accurately. 7) Handle and process experimental observations and data.
Topic 2: Observing
Learning objective: Learners will know how to observe properties such as colour, size, feel, sound, shape and smell of a variety of substances.
Basic Competencies: Learners should be able to 1) Make and record observations. 2) Observe properties such as colour, size, feel, sound, shape and smell of a variety of substances. 3) Observe properties of a variety of common substances such as sugar, salt, tea, coffee, sand, pepper and flour. 4) Process experimental observations and data.
Topic 3: Classifying
Learning Objective: Learners will know how to group common objects in a number of different ways.
Basic Competencies: Learners should be able to 1) Compare and distinguish properties of common objects. 2) Group (classify) objects in a variety of ways
Allotted time: 1 week
…
…
I allowed two “…” just so I would be sure to breathe in and out a few times before commenting on any of this. In fact,
…
Ok. First. 1 week? 1 week = five 40 minute periods = 200 minutes = 3 hours and 20 minutes. Maybe 1 week per topic. Even that would be in a good, smooth-running world. But here? We’re working on English and getting to class on time here. I’m sure some of you still think the above is plausible… And I say, buy a ticket to Namibia and I will show you what a real class period is: first five minute, stand in door and wait for learners. Next ten minutes, let learners move desks/go look for boards to make desks out of. Next ten minutes, convince learners to get out their exercise book and allow them to run around borrowing pens and pencils. Last fifteen minutes, write and explain a few notes on the board. In the last fifteen minutes the learners also attempt to copy said notes but, living in a verbal culture, only actually achieve writing the date and underlining it (with a ruler they waited ten minutes for and got in a fist fight over). These ideas and skills are not beyond the scope and intelligence of my kids but they’re certainly not grasp-able in 1 week.
Second, allow me the indulgence of nit-picking, please? Ready?
I’m the only one with a watch. No one has a thermometer. And even with a thermometer, where am I expecting to find enough ice for 70+ 7th graders? There are two bathroom scales for sale in Khorixas – I am not planning on buying either one for this lesson plan. How does a sequence of instructions and due regard for safety have anything to do with measurements? And how exactly would they like the learners to handle experimental observations? And with what experiment are we having enough time to even collect data? Color, size, feel and sound are all easy – when you know the words for them! Sugar, salt, tea, coffee? I can’t even keep enough food in my house for me; where is all this experimentation food coming from? And I swear on my life, these learners would eat it before observing it. Above that, none of this is even mentioned in the textbook. And, to top it all off, one week?
…
Ok. I’m done. Thanks.
To be fair, maybe I’m being too judgmental. Maybe I’m not allowing enough grace for a school system that is in the middle of a rocky start. Maybe I’m not working hard enough to make these lessons work. Maybe. But for now, thanks for letting me explain things with my culture sunglasses on… Have I explained the culture sunglasses, yet? Eh, just imagine them – I’m sure you’ll come close.
Well, the crickets are sounding in the hostel yard now. That’s how quiet it is. And before I go I have one more discovery for your precious ears. I found a poster today in the library that had the names of important insect life in Namibia. One of them quite nicely fit the description of the giant robot beetles I tried to explain earlier. The official name is “Armoured Ground Cricket” and in Latin “Acanthoplus discoidalis”. I’m not sure if those are the appropriate names for the most heinously ugly bug I have ever encountered, but google it. If it looks like a robot tank approximately the same size as the palm of your hand, then you’ve got the right bug… and it’s not leaving. Day and night, “chirping” on my door, on my windows, on the grass, everywhere. Ugh. (I will testify that hitting them like a hockey puck with an old broom is quite stress relieving though)(But, heathen American, my learners think its cruel)(even though those same learners hid around a corner until a girl walks by and then throw it in her hair. Terrible, but one of the lesser forms of trouble they could be getting into)(and the bugs have destroyed hundreds of crops this year)(Either way, I can’t tell you. You decide)
As always, more later. I’ve got more breathing to do
…
16 April 2008
I know I just wrote yesterday, but I forgot to tell you something. Once I tell you what it is you’re going to wonder how you survived this long without knowing. Are you ready?
You see, this past Sunday morning I decided it was a chore day. Lately, I have discovered that I need a housewife. I just can’t seem to do all my dishes, cooking, laundry and shopping. It’s a recent development that I would like to blame on the continent I live on. However, I have few continents to compare it with so I will restrain myself. All that is to say, if you want the job, I’m now accepting applicants – there is no pay, but you get your own hostel cot, my love and a great tan.
Anyway, chore day started out with taking my empty backpack to Multisave to fill with delicious food. It was nice morning so I took the long way around and ended at the petrol station right next to Multisave. As I walked around the corner I hear someone yell, “hey, I know that person!” I stood there and stared and tried to figure out why this person was yelling at me. It finally registered that it was another PCV from Waterburg near Okakarara. I know her well but honestly seeing another American in Khorixas is the same as if they had actually flown over that day to see me. I think I would have given my own mother that look. It turns out her, her dad (who had flown in the week before) and two other PCVs were driving through Khorixas to visit Twyfelfontein (twelf –on –tayn sometimes –teen). They said hop in, let’s go. Adventure? Random? I miss it. Chore day was out the window. I was in.
It took about and hour and forty five minutes to get to Twyfelfontein. I enjoyed every minute of it. Sabrina had fruit roll ups. Emily had biltong (beef jerky-ish). The rental car had air conditioning. Melissa had new tunes. Even with back-middle, the trip could have just been sitting in the car all day and I would have been a happy camper.
For those of you who don’t know Twyfelfontein is the site of “one of the most extensive galleries of rock art in Africa,” containing “6000-year-old petroglyphs” – as read from the Namibia section of the Southern Africa guide book. Just before this entry it talks about Khorixas. The lovely description says, “Although it’s the administrative capital of Damaraland, Khorixas serves mainly as a refueling spot and a supply stop.” Sound like a place to spend two years? I think they just say that because they haven’t heard my learners sing yet. When you arrive at Twyfelfontein, the office is made out of old oil drum lids welded together. It is really quite creative but, recently, I have had a bit of trouble distinguishing between art and poverty-driven necessity (tin can wall? creative or required?). To see the rocks it cost N$30 for foreigners and N$20 for residents, including Peace Corps volunteers (yes!), with ID (which I always forget, so blaming the randomness just wouldn’t do. They let me in on resident price anyway).
Our guide showed us The Lion Man path. It seems all of the drawings were once inside a cave. At some time though the cave collapsed. Now the cave walls are only piles of huge rocks. It is interesting to see how different rocks fell. Some of the walls fell perfectly for us to see the drawings on them. I can only imagine what drawings are hidden under and between rocks. The path we took was called The Lion Man path because it has the famous drawing of Twyfelfontien – a lion with a really long tail depicting a myth about a man periodically transforming into a lion. There are also picture of giraffes, rhinos, maps of the land and penguins and seals (from South African visitors). It was all very interesting and a bit whimsical. Speculating about the past, in my head, is a cross between Far Side cave men grunting and a couple of kids burying a time capsule with their favorite toys. I mean, what if they were just playing Tic-Tac-Toe? If you save anything long enough, it becomes valuable.
By the time I made it back to Khorixas it was far too late in the day to do any chores. Plus, I had a headache from wandering around in the almost desert with little water in the heat of the day to look at rocks (I guess random isn’t always the smartest way to go). However, all things considered, eating rice for an extra day and having my co-workers judge my wrinkled dirty clothes was a small price to pay for an overall great day. At the very least it was nice to be one of the smiling tourists stopping at the petrol station outside of Multisave (they all read the guide book. They know: refuel and get supplies. That’s all). Usually, I’m the volunteer sitting on the stoop of Multisave staring at the smiling tourist and wishing I were that happy to be “in Africa”. But, at the end of the day, I get to hear my learners sing and they just get petrol and a coke ;)
April 23
It occurs to me that today may not the best day to write a blog post. I’m not sure if I can explain why the whole day went awry but I can say that the only one who can sympathize with me is Shania Twain - “There’s no way but up from here…”
You can judge but let me just say, Shania has her place. And it’s with the country folk. And some days you just need to hear about someone else’s dog that died, the guy that got away or the truck that just wouldn’t start. And now that your reading is tainted with the fact that I still listen to Shania Twain, let’s move on. Shall we?
I’m sure you’re all dying to know what happened on my Easter vacation. I only know you are because I’m dying to tell you. I left Khorixas on Thursday morning. I took my bag down to the hike point (where you catch a cab or otherwise obtain a ride) and had to wait about 10 minutes before someone told me a white man around the corner was taking a truck to Swakopmund. I was a little skeptical and it turns out the informant’s cover story of good will towards men was a ruse and he was looking for a free cooldrink. So after he showed me the man with the truck and said man with truck offered me a free ride to the coast, I paid for his cooldrink: N$7.00 worth of cooldrink! Fancy! The only catch was that the truck was a cattle truck filled with feed and the road from Khorixas to the coast is dirt. But that catch was quickly glazed over by the fact that I was getting a N$110 ride for free. I would deal with the fact that it was going to be a 9 hour-long free ride later. After a short scare that I would have to ride in the back with the feed (and about ten learners who were trying to get to their farms for the long weekend), I was offered a spot in the cab.
It was a great ride on a road I’ve never been on before. It was just the sort of thing I needed after so long in one place. The man who offered me the ride has lived in Khorixas since, I believe, 1980. He came to the city as an Agriculture officer in the government. While he’s lived here he built the Multisave, the petrol station, butchery and the rest camp in town (the one I’ve never been to). Along the ride he pointed out specific farms and dams that belong to important people or that had interesting stories. About an hour into the ride we stopped at a farm to pick up a man and his wife who were trying to sell firewood on the coast. Of course the stop took three times longer than expected. It was nice to be able to see the famous “farm” though. I can see why my learners love to get back to their farms. Most of the farms we passed had some fashion of standing water to swim in. There were a lot of windmills and cows and large green fields. It all looked ideal. I’m sure a lot of it seemed so pretty because we’re currently at the peak of greenery. But home is home and I’m sure they love it in the brown of the year too. While we were stopped, I was offered a cup of coffee and a little history lesson. I was told that Khorixas is called the heart of Damaraland because South Africa bought the city and the surrounding farms and gave them to the Damara. They did the same with Okakarara for the Hereros, Keetmanshoop for the Nama and different cities for all the other tribes. South Africa wanted to give each tribe a homeland. I didn’t quite catch the motivation behind giving land to certain tribes but, overall, the tone wasn’t cheery. I do recall that the South African presence in Namibia was likened to the United States’ current presence in the Middle East – a comparison made more than once with a similar un-cheery tone. Luckily, I could tell they didn’t hold US politics against me (and my unwillingness to discuss them) because I was given a second cup of coffee and a second lesson on Agriculture - Khorixas is named after the Khori bush… in case you were wondering.
It turns out that my free ride was only to Heinties Bay, which is about 50K north of Swakopmund. It’s a nice place from what I could tell but stopping there meant I had to find a taxi. I thanked my free ride and asked a petrol station attendant where the hike point was. He said to have a seat at the take-away and he would stay on the lookout for a taxi. After not eating since 6:30 and spending large amounts of time in a semi, the mushroom and chicken meat pie at the take-away was calling my name. I was one bite into it when a driver came over and said it was time to go now now. I realized that it was the first time I was in a taxi without another American. The language and culture barrier was almost too much to handle. But, we’ve decided that when you feel the most awkward is probably when you’re experiencing the culture the most and you’re one step closer to integrating. So I embraced four adults in the back seat while being the only one of them that spoke English. It cost N$40 for the taxi but, considering the circumstances, I think I got ripped off.
I made it to Swakopmund at 2 in the afternoon. We had started driving that morning at 9 (after all the expected errands around Khorixas that we’ve all come to know and love). Five hours seems like record time with all the stops and less than ideal means of transportation. When I arrived in Swakop I was in shock, awe and amazement. After touring the location to drop off the four other passengers in the taxi, I was taken to the town. When we rolled into town it was as though I was driving back to America. The streets were paved and busy. There were traffic lights, cafés, a lighthouse, and lots and lots of people.
The first day in Swakop was really chill. Seven out of the nine in Otjimbingwe for CBT decided to come to our little reunion. When most of them had arrived, we went out for a late lunch – we all got salad! Some of the salads even had olives! I missed vegetables. Leslie, the PCV in Swakop, forgot to warn the town that PCVs who had been trapped in small villages for two months were coming and that they would marvel at small things like salad dressing, waiters and two story buildings. After lunch was an obligatory stop at the beach and then Super spar, “just to breathe the air”. I believe I even heard “Super spar is my idol” and “My Mecca is Super spar”… Me thinks the PCVs like Super spar. I’m not one to object especially because I found tiny bags of peanut M&M’s tucked into the far corner of the candy isle. Yippee. Then we headed to Leslie’s to catch up, complain about site, do impressions of learners and, generally, remember that we’re not alone in the world. The day ended with a movie on Leslie’s computer (Dream Girls), a shower (with hot water) and blow-drying my hair (am I in heaven?).
Friday morning I woke up at 6 am. Waking up at 6 am is great if I have to go to work, if I’m in my own house or if I’m even in a house where everyone isn’t sleeping on every available floor space until 9 in the morning. But after some finagling I managed to get on some warm clothes (Swakop is cold… well, cold for someone who currently lives on the face of the sun) and walking shoes and go for a walk. It was nice to walk around and be ignored. After my walk and the dead bodies on Leslie’s floor woke up and got ready we all went shopping. Since it was Independence Day, though, all the stores were closed. So, we went to Wimpies for burgers instead. I really wanted to have a hamburger because I don’t eat a lot of meat (mostly lentils and sometimes tuna or chicken, when the price is good). But it turns out that Wimpies’ hamburgers aren’t that good. The meal was saved, though, because their milkshakes are awesome… And I never thought I would write anything like those two sentences in my blog about Africa…
The afternoon was spent lounging on the beach and meeting other NAM27ers who decided to come to Swakop for the long weekend. There were two other groups. One stayed at a backpackers’ hostel just down the street from Leslie’s and the other stayed at a rest camp on the edge of town. The group in the backpackers’ hostel had an extreme weekend planned – they went skydiving on Saturday and sea kayaking on Sunday. As far as I can tell, the group in the rest camp just did a lot of drinking… guess they’re integrating. But, Friday on the beach was a great day with too many Americans to count. Some of us got soft serve ice cream and other took a swim in the ocean. I spent most of Friday in shock and awe also. The beach we were on most closely resembled the Santa Monica Pier and Waikiki. Wow, life’s tough on PC vacation. Thanks Uncle Sam.
Friday night we made a salad at the volunteer house and tried out a pub Leslie had been waiting for friends to check out. Saturday morning was another early morning for me. I spent about an hour wandering around the city on my own and came back to a completely silent house. Luckily, Leslie was awake too so we went out for omelets and hit up some clothes stores on the way back. I got some new shirts with long sleeves - I’ve got high hopes for winter weather. That afternoon, we all went to the beach again and then to a movie theater. The movie theater reminded me of one you could find on an Air Force base, except smaller. The movie showing was 27 Dresses. I’m not sure when it really came out but I don’t remember hearing anything about it before I left the states so I’m going to pretend it’s really recent. It was cute and definitely worth my time while in Namibia, but that’s a skewed opinion. That night we went out for seafood. I had fish and chips and was almost completely convinced we were no longer in Namibia. Luckily, our food took about an hour and a half, so I could continue to believe I was on the continent of Africa.
Sunday was more of the same but with pizza. We got a tub of ice cream at Super spar and celebrated the sunset on the beach with a game of “never have I ever [insert someone’s pastime here]”. If you have ever [insert someone’s pastime here] you eat a bite of ice cream. It was fun but I definitely learned that Peace Corps volunteers are crazy.
Monday I caught a ride with part of the group from the backpackers’ hostel (some of the group included Jill, Amanda and the VSO from Outjo, and one health volunteer from the north). The VSO of the group had a car and was willing to drive us all the Outjo if we just split the petrol. It was so nice to be in car that went directly where we needed exactly when we needed it to. She didn’t even run any errands around the location before we left. I was just glad they didn’t shun me for having a seemingly mundane weekend while they conquered their fear of jumping out of airplanes… though I have yet to see any proof that Jill actually jumped. I think she’s hiding her video from me. It seems you look like you’re about to die right before you jump out of an airplane and who want to publicize that face.
I got home that evening just before dark. We had a long stop in Outjo that involved accidentally falling asleep on Amanda’s floor and then scrambling for a taxi back to Khorixas. The bakkie Jill and I ended up in only went 80K/hour the whole way. And, while thankful for the safety that speed includes, it’s hard to sit in a bakkie for that long.
The whole weekend was really exciting and really relaxing. And, yet, after I write it all out for you, it seems really lame. I guess you’ll just have to believe me that it was great… but that’s a skewed opinion.
April 3, 2008
When you are teaching Namibian children, at times, you are choosing to talk differently than you would in America. You are choosing the words you use carefully. Many times it is taking very much energy to use words and tenses they will know. The clever learners become tired of slow like-singing speaking. But for the good of the whole class, we are speaking badly in English sometimes. The learners are just now studying and writing exams for the end of term. Today they were having English. Tomorrow they will be writing English again. The Natural Science exam will be written on Tuesday. It was very much fun to spend study time with the learners today. They have chosen to spend their study time in the library learning science. They have stood in front of the room and said as much information from memory as they could. Some of them have said the small intestine is coming just after the mouth in the Digestive system. This has made me laugh. We have learned differently since then – we have learned that the Pharynx and esophagus are coming just after the mouth. These learners are special. They are special because some days they are making me angry. Other days they are making me smile and laugh. Sometimes they are making me laugh and making me angry at the same time. It is nice to teach them science and it is nice to talk with them.
Wow, that took a lot more energy to write than to actually speak. When I read back over the paragraph, it sounds ridiculous. If another American is around to witness this sort of English, I usually get laughed at. I can see why now. The other teachers told me that my English is getting easier to understand – they are “coping” with me, was the exact wording, I believe. The learners are quicker to understand me because they’re forced to listen to me daily. Captive audience. I knew there was a reason I liked teaching.
The translation of the poorly written paragraph above:
The learners are now writing (taking) their exams for the end of the first term (there are three in a school year). They have two weeks of exams with only one exam per day. Some subjects have two exams. That is why English takes up two days. Natural science is next Tuesday for grade seven. The exam is ridiculous for many reasons. None of which I believe I could communicate effectively on a blog without offending someone. But I can say, when I first read over the exam, I was infuriated. I think I may have even turned red. The exam is…bogus. But, once I knew the challenge, I made a plan of attack and have been reviewing the “pertinent” information with the kids. This afternoon, I had an optional science review during study. I presented the information and review questions on each topic. The learners would “secretly” look things up in their notes, hidden under their chair or on their friend’s back, to answer the questions first. I don’t think they caught that I actually wanted them to look in their notes and remember. It was cute either way. Then I would have them close their eyes and try to recite things and they would secretly peak when they couldn’t (like when they told me the digestive system progressed: mouth, small intestine, stomach, anus. Eww). Honestly, it was all a lot of fun. When we were training, someone from Nam26 advised us to try to make the learners laugh everyday. He said it would make your whole experience better. Usually, it’s the other way around though. These kids crack me up. Sometimes its because they’re oblivious – but that’s beside the point.
Speaking of cracking up. I heard my first pun from a Namibian today. It went like this:
“Miss, this one is eating all the time in the hostel. She is eating so much. And she is not bathing. Everyday, she is waking up first and she is not bathing…” – Grade 7 girl, joking about her friend
“Miss, this one is lying! She is lying!” – accused friend
“Miss, you can see. I am not lying. I am standing. I am standing here. Not lying” – First girl
Oh, kids.
April 6, 2008
I just succeeded in setting my own watch. This proves two things. First, it proves that I am, in fact, a rocket scientist. I know this because my watch has 18 functions and three buttons. Programming some of these functions require holding down all three buttons at the same time, then repeatedly pushing one until the correct time and date appear. And, even when I have finagled my fingers to perform such a task, I still have to use my rocket science powers to actually figure out what time and day it really is. You see, leap day confused the date on my watch and my poor learners have been living one day in the future in all of my classes. But we were coping. Then, today, it was too much to handle when, at 2:00 this afternoon, the whole country decided to fall back without telling me. So, I took matters into my own hand, subsequently proving that, secondly, I am the most low maintenance person on the planet. Tiny instructions? In Russian? For a different watch model? Did I complain? No. Did I give up? No. Self-sufficient? Me? Yes.
…Unless, of course, I’m the worst kind – I think I’m low maintenance, but really am high maintenance… Oh, Harry.
Erin. That’s for you.
April 11, 2008
I have decided that one of my favorite things in this world are children who have no idea they’re being watched. I caught a little girl having a lengthy conversation with her good friend Thin Air today. It took a good 45 seconds before she realized I was standing there. It was cute. Also, I just ran into this little boy who was convinced he was spider man. I’m pretty sure he was in the middle of working on his theme-song movie intro. There were some great Kung fu kicks in there. I would say 5 if I had to guess his time on earth thus far.
I have also decided that one of my least favorite things in this world are children who want to see: what happens when I push this button eighteen times? Oh, miss Jessica turns red. And that, my friends, is a quality in children that transcends time and culture. And I am also sure my parents and their friends are thinking, k k k karma!
Well, yesterday, I experienced Namibian culture. Done and done. I found it all on my own. It was very conveniently located at my local Parent-Teacher meeting. Oh gosh.
Last night was the first term parents meeting. It “started” at 5pm. I realized that having a supervisor that focuses on punctuality has spoiled me. Occasionally, our 6:50 morning meetings will start at 6:55 or 7:00. But just as often, they start at 6:48 and I walk in on the tail-end of the prayer (unless of course it’s my morning to pray. In which case, it doesn’t start as long as I can keep praying. And I pray in American English, so I could talk for a while and say a lot. Though, sometimes they miss the “Amen” and I have to say it a few times to get everyone to open their eyes). Overall though, our punctual morning meetings have made me forget that 5:00 usually means 5:30 or 6:00 and “now” means later. So, the meeting actually started around 5:45. It was held in the hostel-dining hall. Our school (I hear) is rather large. So the dining hall is a fair size also. All 20 of the teachers and I were placed at a row of tables on a stage in the front of the dining hall. I’m not exactly sure why this set up was chosen but I did find the stare-down aspect of it rather humorous.
At the beginning of the meeting I was introduced to the parents. It was nice to be associated with a group. The teachers were cute as they gave me social cues. Whispering, “stand up now”, “sit down” and pre-warning the crowd that I say my “r”s like my mouth is full of marbles. There was a lot of Damara and then “Jessica Royer” said like a mix between Humphrey Bogart and Scooby Doo. That’s when you know you’re up – the Humphrey-Scooby accent. The other new teacher was introduced also. He’s rather popular in Khorixas though so his introduction was short.
After the introductions, the group spent a few minutes deciding which of Namibia’s plethora of languages the meeting should be translated to. This part was interesting to me because I was unaware of some of the cultural backgrounds at our school. Not everyone in Damaraland is Damara. But most of them do learn the language… unlike their lazy volunteer. I suppose, “but its so hard” just wouldn’t impress you and it would certainly negate the whole watch setting victory from last weekend. How about, “I’ll try harder”. In the end, it seemed that all who could not understand Damara were good in Afrikaans. It was decided the meeting would be conducted in Damara, translated into Afrikaans, with token poppy seeds of English thrown in here and there. I most definitely understand this set up but, honestly, it made me bow my head and laugh throughout the meeting. When someone would get done ranting about covering books or tardiness of learners another would inevitably shout, “Afrikaans!” and the ten-minute spiel would have to be repeated in a second language. Luckily, one of our teachers works at a church (I believe he’s a pastor) and is very good at translating. So when a parent or teacher would speak who was not fluent in one of the other languages, this teacher would jump up and fly through the other required languages. Every so often, he’s a goofball about it. Someone would be speaking in English, get passionate about something and slip back into mother tongue. This teacher just jumps from translating into mother tongue and start translating into English. I really think that translating is a gift. Languages are beyond me. I would like to be able to do what this man does but the gift just eludes me.
Throughout the meeting we covered a variety of topics… or at least it seems we did – mine was the poppy seed language. Two hours into the meeting, it was my turn to inform the parents about a girls’ club I’m trying to get off the ground for second and third term (as per usual, Jill and I are in cahoots about it). I asked one of the female teachers who works closely with the girls in the hostel to help me with my presentation. I was worried that the parents would not understand. It may have been better to ask an upper primary teacher (who teaches in English) to translate but they’re all male. I wanted someone who knows the girls and works with the girls to help me. We just stuck to the script during our two minute presentation and this teacher did great. I really like her. She is always willing to help me. I feel like clueless would get annoying but she never seems to get fed up with me. I thought the parents would appreciate that I was short and sweet and to the point. However, it seems a girls’ club is actually a topic for hot debate. Why not boys? I had quite a few answers welling up, some of them were not so polite: “Well, if you think a boys club is so important, why don’t you just…” Luckily, before I got a single word in, my hero teacher jumped up and answered for me. She said, “When you educate a girl you educate a community…” Beautifully put. Thank you. But, seriously, if this dad wants a boys club why doesn’t he just… I mean, why would the female American teacher spearhead a club to… I mean, come on.
The meeting lasted two and half-hours in total. I was so impressed with a few small kids in the crowd. They entertained themselves by pulling their shirt over their head to see how dark they could get it or by sliding down in their chair and then shooting up as tall as they could sit. I remember those days and its got to be worse when you only understand a third of what’s going on. They didn’t make a peep though. The teachers at the head table started pulling out newspapers and cell phones (myself included). At one point, they even started passing around a bottle of new perfume someone bought. The sitting was intense, but we all managed to pull through. After the meeting, I thought about sticking around and meeting some parents but it seems they were even more interested in dinner. Understandable. Instead, I just walked out the door, took a few steps, walked into my flat, turned on some Beatles and hid - You say you want a revolution? Well, you know, we all want to change the world.
Today was our third to last day of exams. My grade six math class will write two math exams next week. The first one will be easy for about half of them (the ones who listen in class). The second test is going to kick all of their butts. I taught the material. They weren’t getting it though. In the end, we just ran out of time in the term. Recently, I’ve realized that it’s not always the kids’ fault when they don’t get something. I can think back on a few times in my life where it was really obviously the teacher’s fault and I blamed it on myself. When more than three quarters of the class is drawing a blank, something has gone awry. It doesn’t help that the second test will be their last test. By then, all they’re thinking about is jumping into the dam at the farm. Who wants to be changing a mixed number to an improper fraction at that time in the term? Seriously.
Tuesday was grade seven’s day. Since then, I’ve sat in that library staring at far too many Natural science exams written by far too many learners who have never taken a spelling test (you have to remember it’s a verbal culture – speaking 4 languages is no big deal. Writing in them all? Almost unheard of). If you’ll allow me a few examples:
Q: What are four things boys can expect during puberty?
A: He get hers on faes. He get hers unda hams.
Q: What system is the brain, spinal cord and nerves a part of?
A: the System system
Q: What is a sphincter?
A: Killing a person
Q: Describe two adaptations of fish to their environment.
A: the fish is aw food and fish is good for pebpls.
Q: Mention three things that are important for a good relationship.
A: You must no peat each other.
Or
A: Kiss the Laydy. Be vei full.
Q: Mention some ways to maintain sexual health.
A: Sai a wei frum boys.
Love it.
But, I did go cross-eyed trying to finagle points for these kids. Now that I’m done grading their papers I have to hand them in to be moderated. It just means the subject head at our school has to check and make sure my grading is ok. I’m a little worried about this because a lot of my good learners got around 50%. I’m worried that the subject head is going to make me grade them all again because too many my learners scored too high (that’s right, 50 is high). Does this happen other places? Is it weird for a whole class to pass (in my case its really only about 25 kids but that’s beside the point)? I don’t remember it being weird but I’m forgetting.
Luckily, in grade six, I don’t have to worry about re-grading. The kids will take care of that for me… oh, gosh. These kids. I can’t even imagine. They’re set up to fail - literally expected to. Hey mom, dad, thanks for telling me I could be a ballerina or oceanographer or artist. Good childhood. You did good.
Speaking of good parents, I got three packages when I went to the post office today. “Nampost” only gets packages on Thursday from Otjiwarongo. Then is takes them a week or four to let us know they have one for us. Honestly, I only go to the post office with really low expectations these days. I went today with the same expectations but felt a little of my 1st grade self come out when the PO box was empty. I didn’t think it was important but it turns out spending my birthday without even a card was actually going to get to me. Lucky for me, Jill is more proactive about such things and generally asks inside the post office. Usually, this doesn’t actually do anything though - They don’t know our boxes are back there. But today, they magically produced three boxes for me. Yippee! There’s definitely happy birthday paper in one of them. I’m admiring the wrapping job just now. Thanks family.
In the other two boxes? Girl scout cookies. I’m feeling sick.
15 April 2008
Today was the last day of school for the learners. At our 10:00 break we all met in the middle of the school to officially close the term. In the morning, I spent most of my time in the library trying to mark and organize papers. I say trying because the grade sevens have taken to sitting on the desk staring at me for the past week. I tell them to leave and go study for their next exam but, like “good” kids, they leave for a few minutes and come right back. It wouldn’t be so bad if they weren’t sooo much more interesting than their exams - By the end of most days I find that I’ve talked more about hair and boys and America and mothers than grading science and math exams. Anyway, I was actually getting some work done today when my learners came in and said, “Miiiiiiissssss! (said like “mass” with a Georgia accent at the top of your lungs) it’s finished! It’s time to go!” I said, “I’m coming just now.” (which means I’ll be right there). I walked out to the official closing and found all the learners and one teacher. The learners are really good about using these lull times to practice their singing. Whenever my learners practice their impromptu singing is when I most feel like I’m in Africa. I’m not sure why this is, but if you visit and listen, I’m sure you’ll feel that way too. We have assemblies a lot, so I occupied my normal spot along, what I like to call, the firing squad wall (the teachers all stand in front to stare down the learners). Every so often, one of my learners would run up and tell me to have a wonderful holiday and that they were going to miss me. Now, they could have just been trying to score cute points but I think it was genuine… but even if it wasn’t, it was cute.
After the assembly, all the learners left to go home. The rest of today has been really quiet and a little eerie. Every hour or so someone will knock on my door to tell me they are leaving. I tell them to be safe and have fun and then they’re gone in whatever bakkie or cart that has come to collect them. By the time all of them make it back from the farm it will be a month before I see them again. I’m ready for the break but we have just spent a lot of quality time (three and a half months) with each other. I think I’m going to miss them too.
In our work time for the rest of the week, my supervisor is requesting that all upper primary teachers prepare lesson plans for the beginning of second term. Personally, I think this is really wise plan because I’m not expecting to go anywhere near my preparation binder in my three weeks off. Currently, I am working on my natural science lesson plans. This term, we started with health educations, moved on to systems of the body and finished with ecosystems. Next term we are starting with the scientific method and then moving quickly to matter. I’m not sure what comes after matter because I haven’t gotten that far. We have two government issued papers that dictate what to teach and when to teach it: the Scheme of Work and the Syllabus. The Scheme of work tells us when to teach each topic. The syllabus tells you what the kids actually need to know and be able to do for the exams. Then, you have to fill out your plan to execute these requirements and file them in your preparation binder. Personally, I like this system because I’m the kind of person who goes to the office supply section of a store “just to look”. Dividers make my day… Anyway, in all my planning, I found some interesting requirements that I thought I would share with you.
In the Scheme of Work for the beginning of term two:
Themes: Scientific Process
Topics:
1) Estimating and Measuring
2) Observing
3) Classifying
Allotted time: 1 week
Ok. Fair enough. Now, let’s breeze over to the syllabus to investigate what each of these topics actually require the learners to know.
Topic 1: Estimating and Measuring
Learning objective: Learners will know how to estimate and measure length, mass, time, temperature and the area of regularly shaped (right-angled) objects.
Basic competencies: Learners should be able to 1) Estimate and measure: length, mass, time and temperature; temperature of melting ice; the height of a fellow learner and the mass of school bags using appropriate methods. 2) Calculate the area of regularly shaped (right angled) objects. 3) Convert minutes and hours to seconds. 4) Convert units of length, mass, time and area. 5) Follow sequence of instructions. Use appropriate techniques. Handle apparatus/material competently and have due regard for safety. 6) make and record estimates and measurements accurately. 7) Handle and process experimental observations and data.
Topic 2: Observing
Learning objective: Learners will know how to observe properties such as colour, size, feel, sound, shape and smell of a variety of substances.
Basic Competencies: Learners should be able to 1) Make and record observations. 2) Observe properties such as colour, size, feel, sound, shape and smell of a variety of substances. 3) Observe properties of a variety of common substances such as sugar, salt, tea, coffee, sand, pepper and flour. 4) Process experimental observations and data.
Topic 3: Classifying
Learning Objective: Learners will know how to group common objects in a number of different ways.
Basic Competencies: Learners should be able to 1) Compare and distinguish properties of common objects. 2) Group (classify) objects in a variety of ways
Allotted time: 1 week
…
…
I allowed two “…” just so I would be sure to breathe in and out a few times before commenting on any of this. In fact,
…
Ok. First. 1 week? 1 week = five 40 minute periods = 200 minutes = 3 hours and 20 minutes. Maybe 1 week per topic. Even that would be in a good, smooth-running world. But here? We’re working on English and getting to class on time here. I’m sure some of you still think the above is plausible… And I say, buy a ticket to Namibia and I will show you what a real class period is: first five minute, stand in door and wait for learners. Next ten minutes, let learners move desks/go look for boards to make desks out of. Next ten minutes, convince learners to get out their exercise book and allow them to run around borrowing pens and pencils. Last fifteen minutes, write and explain a few notes on the board. In the last fifteen minutes the learners also attempt to copy said notes but, living in a verbal culture, only actually achieve writing the date and underlining it (with a ruler they waited ten minutes for and got in a fist fight over). These ideas and skills are not beyond the scope and intelligence of my kids but they’re certainly not grasp-able in 1 week.
Second, allow me the indulgence of nit-picking, please? Ready?
I’m the only one with a watch. No one has a thermometer. And even with a thermometer, where am I expecting to find enough ice for 70+ 7th graders? There are two bathroom scales for sale in Khorixas – I am not planning on buying either one for this lesson plan. How does a sequence of instructions and due regard for safety have anything to do with measurements? And how exactly would they like the learners to handle experimental observations? And with what experiment are we having enough time to even collect data? Color, size, feel and sound are all easy – when you know the words for them! Sugar, salt, tea, coffee? I can’t even keep enough food in my house for me; where is all this experimentation food coming from? And I swear on my life, these learners would eat it before observing it. Above that, none of this is even mentioned in the textbook. And, to top it all off, one week?
…
Ok. I’m done. Thanks.
To be fair, maybe I’m being too judgmental. Maybe I’m not allowing enough grace for a school system that is in the middle of a rocky start. Maybe I’m not working hard enough to make these lessons work. Maybe. But for now, thanks for letting me explain things with my culture sunglasses on… Have I explained the culture sunglasses, yet? Eh, just imagine them – I’m sure you’ll come close.
Well, the crickets are sounding in the hostel yard now. That’s how quiet it is. And before I go I have one more discovery for your precious ears. I found a poster today in the library that had the names of important insect life in Namibia. One of them quite nicely fit the description of the giant robot beetles I tried to explain earlier. The official name is “Armoured Ground Cricket” and in Latin “Acanthoplus discoidalis”. I’m not sure if those are the appropriate names for the most heinously ugly bug I have ever encountered, but google it. If it looks like a robot tank approximately the same size as the palm of your hand, then you’ve got the right bug… and it’s not leaving. Day and night, “chirping” on my door, on my windows, on the grass, everywhere. Ugh. (I will testify that hitting them like a hockey puck with an old broom is quite stress relieving though)(But, heathen American, my learners think its cruel)(even though those same learners hid around a corner until a girl walks by and then throw it in her hair. Terrible, but one of the lesser forms of trouble they could be getting into)(and the bugs have destroyed hundreds of crops this year)(Either way, I can’t tell you. You decide)
As always, more later. I’ve got more breathing to do
…
16 April 2008
I know I just wrote yesterday, but I forgot to tell you something. Once I tell you what it is you’re going to wonder how you survived this long without knowing. Are you ready?
You see, this past Sunday morning I decided it was a chore day. Lately, I have discovered that I need a housewife. I just can’t seem to do all my dishes, cooking, laundry and shopping. It’s a recent development that I would like to blame on the continent I live on. However, I have few continents to compare it with so I will restrain myself. All that is to say, if you want the job, I’m now accepting applicants – there is no pay, but you get your own hostel cot, my love and a great tan.
Anyway, chore day started out with taking my empty backpack to Multisave to fill with delicious food. It was nice morning so I took the long way around and ended at the petrol station right next to Multisave. As I walked around the corner I hear someone yell, “hey, I know that person!” I stood there and stared and tried to figure out why this person was yelling at me. It finally registered that it was another PCV from Waterburg near Okakarara. I know her well but honestly seeing another American in Khorixas is the same as if they had actually flown over that day to see me. I think I would have given my own mother that look. It turns out her, her dad (who had flown in the week before) and two other PCVs were driving through Khorixas to visit Twyfelfontein (twelf –on –tayn sometimes –teen). They said hop in, let’s go. Adventure? Random? I miss it. Chore day was out the window. I was in.
It took about and hour and forty five minutes to get to Twyfelfontein. I enjoyed every minute of it. Sabrina had fruit roll ups. Emily had biltong (beef jerky-ish). The rental car had air conditioning. Melissa had new tunes. Even with back-middle, the trip could have just been sitting in the car all day and I would have been a happy camper.
For those of you who don’t know Twyfelfontein is the site of “one of the most extensive galleries of rock art in Africa,” containing “6000-year-old petroglyphs” – as read from the Namibia section of the Southern Africa guide book. Just before this entry it talks about Khorixas. The lovely description says, “Although it’s the administrative capital of Damaraland, Khorixas serves mainly as a refueling spot and a supply stop.” Sound like a place to spend two years? I think they just say that because they haven’t heard my learners sing yet. When you arrive at Twyfelfontein, the office is made out of old oil drum lids welded together. It is really quite creative but, recently, I have had a bit of trouble distinguishing between art and poverty-driven necessity (tin can wall? creative or required?). To see the rocks it cost N$30 for foreigners and N$20 for residents, including Peace Corps volunteers (yes!), with ID (which I always forget, so blaming the randomness just wouldn’t do. They let me in on resident price anyway).
Our guide showed us The Lion Man path. It seems all of the drawings were once inside a cave. At some time though the cave collapsed. Now the cave walls are only piles of huge rocks. It is interesting to see how different rocks fell. Some of the walls fell perfectly for us to see the drawings on them. I can only imagine what drawings are hidden under and between rocks. The path we took was called The Lion Man path because it has the famous drawing of Twyfelfontien – a lion with a really long tail depicting a myth about a man periodically transforming into a lion. There are also picture of giraffes, rhinos, maps of the land and penguins and seals (from South African visitors). It was all very interesting and a bit whimsical. Speculating about the past, in my head, is a cross between Far Side cave men grunting and a couple of kids burying a time capsule with their favorite toys. I mean, what if they were just playing Tic-Tac-Toe? If you save anything long enough, it becomes valuable.
By the time I made it back to Khorixas it was far too late in the day to do any chores. Plus, I had a headache from wandering around in the almost desert with little water in the heat of the day to look at rocks (I guess random isn’t always the smartest way to go). However, all things considered, eating rice for an extra day and having my co-workers judge my wrinkled dirty clothes was a small price to pay for an overall great day. At the very least it was nice to be one of the smiling tourists stopping at the petrol station outside of Multisave (they all read the guide book. They know: refuel and get supplies. That’s all). Usually, I’m the volunteer sitting on the stoop of Multisave staring at the smiling tourist and wishing I were that happy to be “in Africa”. But, at the end of the day, I get to hear my learners sing and they just get petrol and a coke ;)
April 23
It's vacation! Woo hoo! I'll spare you the details of PC vacation on a budget though. Let's just say, if you need me to read something or do something for you, these two weeks are the time to ask... Time - I've got plenty of it. Overall, I'm enjoying my vacation though. Then at the end of two weeks we have reconnect in Windhoek with all of group 27. I'm really excited about it.
Here's a shout out to all the graduates out there. Congratulations! And, trust me, you will be fine! Life goes on. Even if you don't know what you're doing with your life, you will be fine. It will all turn out exactly like its supposed to ;)
