This past week has flown by and yet goes so slowly when one is in it. I taught with Angeline all week. She teaches three S2 English courses (think about 8th/9th grade). These classes are 80 minutes long and back to back to back - I cannot be thankful enough for my Mt. View Schedule of three different classes throughout the day in 55 minute increments. We are working through grammar and reading with minimal texts and slight to no motivation for student learning. What would motivate a student to come to school? One would think "education creates opportunity" and we cannot deny that here, all the while one must continue this line of thinking with 'education for what?' It is not some sort of free ticket. There are not an abundance of jobs awaiting the Acholi people upon graduation from high school - they will all most likely hold the same jobs as those who do not have an education; I understand the lack of motivation, especially learning under such conditions - would you go to school or would you sell mangoes by the roadside? Is education for these students conditional for uplift? I cannot answer this question. The frustration amongst the teachers is palpable. Regardless, we are teaching prepositions and learning about East African crafts. I was able to find a couple of different texts on the bookshelves of the "library" (think large closet) to show Angeline that would allow the students to access the learning a bit easier. The text she was using would make anyone want to cry, but I think that is the one that they have the most of, so they use it. I think of my ELL students at home, and even my native English speakers and know that they would not understand the complicated text. This other workbook I found breaks everything down, and binds every unit under and theme and there within has a reading/listening/speaking/writing component that is required by the National Exam. Therefore, we have started scheming with it, and it seems be going a bit easier for the students.
Just today, as Daneen and I were walking the road to Juba from school, we were discussing the students lack of critical thinking skills - it is much more severe than those of US students. Imagine for History and the Sciences if you did not have your own textbook and so your teacher DICTATES the information to you and you must write it down word for word so that you essentially create your own text - how can critical thinking be encouraged when most of the information is delivered in a rote format? And this is not to blame the teachers, what else can they do? The students must get the information, and they have NO resources. Just the other day we were erasing the blackboard with a piece of scrap paper from the ground. Again, what message does this send to the students on the value of their education?
This past weekend we took our teachers and their families on a "picnic" to Fort Patiko. We all met at the IC house and took 2 mutatus to the site. Ahh the mutatu - how can I tell you of this unimaginable vehicle. It is a sort of 'mini-van' that has been through hell and back and yet still somehow moves forward. The mutatu has a front bench seat that is backed by a roll bar. Then the passengers are seated in 4 bench seat rows. Each seat holds three but there is a jump seat at the end of each row that is unfolded. The mutatu holds the sweat and dirt of every passenger that it has ever held, knows no shocks, and is framed by what seems to be tin masquerading as steel. All this riding atop 4 Disney cartoon wheels on potholded roads - there are times when you just KNOW the mutatu is going to tip over as it manuevers through jungle desert. So, we piled the entire crew onto these vehicles, took a huge coal bbq grill and headed about 45 minutes to the site. We had prepared guacamole (via me), cut veggies, and chicken beforehand. We picked up chipati (African tortillas) and corn and settled at Fort Patiko. This is the sight of the first Ugandan slave-trading fort. As the crew went on the 'tour' Amy and I stayed back to make this bbq happen. It was hilarious. We had pulled up to the site, parked along a grassy spot and unloaded the gear (note there are not tables, chairs etc). Sunday (our driver) and his fellow man helped us load the charcoal (don't think American style) into the grill - we then shucked the corn and threw them onto the grill top of a blazing Backdraft style fire. The guys were great, because we white women had no clue how to prepare the corn. It's not like you have aluminum and slow-roast this - HA - after the corn adventure (think kernals popping while on the cob) Amy and I threw on the veggies to grill. This part was so hilarious because the fire was SOO hot by the time we got the veggies on they had to come off, but it was difficult to even reach near them to get them off of the grill. Note: there is no way to control the heat! So there we were, these skinny American women using a slotted spoon and a mingling stick to retrieve our grilled veggies - literally our arm hairs were singed from the fire and we were sweating from our knees. We were just laughing and crying all at the same time! We then threw on the chicken to re-heat - stupid plan considering the heat. As soon as we threw on the chicken, Amy said "Forget flipping them, just take them off!" As flames abounded we were stabbing at the chicken trying to get them back into the pot without cooking ourselves. In the meantime there were about 4 Ugandan children staring at us this whole time as we danced and laughed around our chicken adventure. The crew returned and we had set up a most excellent assembly line and fed the crew. It turned out to be quite fabulous and most of the teachers asked about the guacamole:) We told them they could call it Acholi-mole and there we were in the middle of the grasslands swapping Mexican food recipes! Amen to guac.
Upon our return to the house, our next door neighbors were having a wedding. So we stopped and watched some of the traditional dances from our yard and headed in to bed. Or so we thought. Soon after the traditional lore, the African techno kicked in - all night long. Around 3am the Obama song came on (no joke - they adore Obama). And I don't mean a slight disturbance, the music was SO loud it vibrated our beds - I do not speak in hyperbole here. Needless to say that we did not sleep much that night and the music finally stopped around 415am. Some experiences in Africa I could definitely do without.
Shalom
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