I cried a little at school today. Not because of anything bad though. At the beginning and end of the day, the students and teachers gather together for assembly. There, we make announcements, pray (my school’s Catholic), and often, the students will sing. Today, it was raining a little, so we all gathered in a classroom after school. There are only about 40 students total, so this was easy to do. The students organized themselves according to how they sing (soprano, tenor, etc). Today, they sang for about an hour. I don’t know how they know so many songs. I suppose they have been singing them since they were small children, but what comes out of their mouths is something that would take Americans weeks of practice. These teenagers, who are normally so obedient and quiet and call me “madame,” finally come alive when they are singing together. The boys, some of whom never make a peep in class, are singing and dancing with smiles on their faces. It’s hard to describe how beautiful it is when the Basotho sing. Like today, it often makes me tear up. I have never in my life encountered a culture in which every single person can sing and harmonize so well. And they all know the same songs! Maybe I will know some once I leave here. I can sing the Lesotho National Anthem, but that’s all. Anyway, it’s a wonderful way to end the day. I think people all over the world would be a lot happier if they sang all the time like people do here.
I’ve really started to enjoy teaching. I think the students are now finding out that, no, I am not going to beat them with a stick. Therefore, they’ve been more receptive to my Q&A style. But they still can’t get the idea of positive and negative numbers, especially adding and subtracting them. I’ve probably explained it in five different ways. I’m always asking them questions, trying to get them to think rather than simply memorize, especially in science. Critical thinking skills aren’t as well developed in children here, it seems. Also, teachers can be mean! Corporal punishment is everywhere. I personally haven’t seen a beating yet, but other volunteers have, and I see the teachers carry their sticks to class most days. I also hear them yelling at the students, calling them lazy and scolding them all the time for things that seem so insignificant to me. And they aren’t sympathetic at all. For example, teachers will yell at them for being late.Ok, fine, but some of the students have a 1-2 hour walk through the mountains and over the river every morning. I understand if they can’t make it to school exactly by 7 AM for “study hour” before school. I also understand that the teachers want these students to be disciplined, but I prefer to use other strategies, like positive reinforcement. That’s what really motivates them to do well, I’ve found. Even when they get answers wrong, I think its important to encourage them to work hard and keep trying, they’re on the right track, etc. I always give them a huge smile when I walk into class. I want to show them that school can be a nice place to be and that I am happy to have them there.
I just ate way too much chocolate while I was writing this. I got two packages the other day, one of which was from Adrian. Of course, it contained quite a few of those lovely square bars of Ritter Sport dark chocolate with hazelnuts, my favorite chocolate from Germany. When you haven’t eaten chocolate in a couple of months and you finally get a substantial supply of your favorite kind, it’s a bit dangerous. My grandmother sent me something called "cuddl duds" which is a silly name for what is basically nice long underwear. I looked at the tags and they were made in Lesotho! I thought that was interesting that they ended up back in Lesotho. I also got some books, an Indy, some magazines, socks, a new coat, warm boots, and other good stuff. Thanks y'all! It felt like Christmas again.
So, I know that my family is probably reading this and some of them are going to visit me within the next two years. Therefore I thought I should show you what my village looks like.The view from my house is in the picture below. That tin structure on the left is my latrine.I can barely fit inside it. It also belonged to the volunteer before me, who is at least 6 feet tall. I can’t imagine what he went through every time he needed to poop. So, that stone thing to the right of it is the beginning of my new latrine…yay! The picture below that one is the house that I share with my host family. My little section of the house is on the left, where there are bars on the door. It’s a nice house by Lesotho standards. I certainly enjoy it. And in the picture below that, there are some of the girls that I teach. They are standing in front of my house in their school uniforms. Some days they just show up and demand “Madame! Please take the photos!”I usually have nothing better to do, so we go outside and have a photo shoot. Some look a little angry or unpleasant, but most Basotho don’t smile when they pose for photos. In their opinion, this makes them look more professional. Also, all of the school children shave their heads here.I’m not really sure why, but I think maybe it sort of goes along with the uniform thing. So yeah, they are all girls.
0 comments:
Post a Comment