"So You Think You Can Teach?" 现在说，在中国

Round Two:

Congratulations, you have made it through Round One of, “So You Think You Can Teach?: Rwanda.”  Good job, and really what is a little rain, thunder, lightning, and flooding to a dedicated teacher?  Child’s plays at best, as you are ready for anything Mother Nature or a day of teaching can throw your way.  You’re a trained professional for goodness sake…or are you?



Did that kid just say, "Bring it!"?



In Rwanda while every effort is made to find teachers that have at least attended Teacher Training Colleges (and here we need to think two years of extended high school), or if a school gets really lucky someone with a degree in the subject they teach, or if they get really, really lucky some one with an actual degree in education it is not always possible to do so.  It is not always possible because there just aren’t enough trained teachers to meet the demand.  There are not enough trained teachers to meet the demand in part because Rwanda is the most densely populated country in Africa and in part because of the government’s commendable push to make school free for every child up to grade nine. Therefore, for Round Two and all other rounds please consider that you may or may not have been trained as a teacher and are very likely the ripe old age of nineteen, twenty, or somewhere in that range.

However, entering the classroom as a young, untrained teacher is not the crux of Round Two, as you will soon see we should all be so lucky that this was Round Two's hitch.  No Round Two goes right after the very core of teaching- communication, and let me warn you this one’s going to hurt.



Hard at work!



When I first began looking at some of the possible placements with CUSO-VSO  I could see that there would be certain countries in Africa that it would not be possible for me to be placed as I did not speak French: Bukino Faso, Cameroon, Mali, and the like.  Rwanda was a member of “the like” and so places like Nigeria, Uganda, and Ghana seemed much more likely.  Therefore, I was pleased, but very surprised to see a placement offer for Rwanda, a placement offer that included a questionnaire asking me to rate my proficiency in French from 0-5.  Well, that’s easy-0. When they accepted me anyway, I was, again, surprised, but also delighted giving this language discrepancy little to no more thought.



What’s this have to do with Round Two?  Well, it turns out that in 2009 all teachers in Rwanda were required to stop teaching in Kinyarwanda and French and to start teaching in English!  Kinyarwanda the mother tongue could be used as needed, and would be taught as a subject in of itself, but the bulk of the lessons were to be in English.  The change was an attempt to move away from French for very practical reasons and to move toward English as it is the language most people in the world use to communicate with for doing business and otherwise.  



So here is Round Two…after a brief month long course you will return to your classroom and begin teaching in Chinese!  Every science, math, social studies, and language lesson is now to be taught in Chinese.  Good luck!  What?  Unfair you say?  Come on you’ve had a month of training and there is that teacher’s manual around here somewhere.  My advice to you is to get cracking as tomorrow you will be evaluated by your administrator on the quality of your lesson on the digestive system now to be taught in Chinese, and at the end of first term you will be taking a test to see whether or not you will be allowed to keep your job.



What!!!!?



Are you hanging on for dear life yet?  You should be, and may I warn you that your competition here do indeed teach daily in English, and while many lessons are sprinkled with Kinyarwanda, and many say it is the hard part of their job, they do it and do it quite well considering it is not their second language, or even remotely like their first language, Kinyarwanda.  In fact, they do it so well that they fool me and I am always surprised after a lesson how hard it is then for them to have any kind of conversation with me in English.  However, it does explain why non-French speaking volunteers such as myself are now being placed here in Rwanda, and why I am desperately trying to learn as much Kinyarwanda as my aging brain can to aid in my own daily communications. 



Well, I had best give you some time to prepare for your lesson tomorrow on Chinese prepositions.  Good luck!  Or should I say, , “好运气 Hǎo yùnqì!”

P.S. If your Chinese is still a little rusty, 现在说，在中国-translates to-Xiànzài shuō, zài zhōngguó-or in English, "Now say that in Chinese."

"So You Think You Can Teach?" Rain and Thunder

Round One

What does a teacher do when it rains?  Teach, right?  Yes, of course teach.  What’s a little rain got to do with teaching?  Round One is easy, you all will easily have this round in the bag and be moving on to round two without so much as breaking a sweat.  Correct?  Maybe, but remember this is, “So You Think You Can Teach: Rwanda,” and things like rain can not be so easily dismissed as there are a few factors in play here that do not affect the average North American classroom even on those days that have you exclaiming about cats and dogs.

The Factors

Factor A: Tin Roof on which the pounding rain creates such a racket that a teacher is suddenly shouting for reasons that seem legitimate rather than because they may be having a bad day.  Factor B: Small windows that let in very little light in the first place so that any amount of cloud cover makes the room so dark that it is difficult to see the students let alone what is on the board or the work they may be attempting.  Factor C: No electricity to remedy Factor B.  Factor D: When it is raining it may well also be flooding. 

The Winner

Recently while observing a young teacher in her already dark classroom the clouds rolled in, the room grew darker, the rain began to pitter, then patter, pour, and finally roar down onto the dry ground outside and the tin roof overhead.  Thunder followed lighting, the wind picked up and as rain was blowing into the glassless windows the wooden shutters were shut leaving only meager light coming in from the door and the one window I begged to be left open.  To my amazement and the teacher’s credit, she never missed a beat or seemed to notice the less than perfect teaching conditions and taught on.  I don’t know if she fought bravely on as she had prepared a nice, interactive lesson on ascending and descending numbers for me to observe or if this was the usual practice.  Either way teach on she did raising her voice above the deafening deluge to instruct students to call out which number was on their flashcard and to then line up in either ascending or descending order.  To their credit students stayed with her and dutifully followed her directions as best as they could in the darkness and din, shouting their answers out bravely and loudly, however, whether they were correct or incorrect answers was really anyone’s guess.

I, on the other hand, seemed to be the only one distracted by the shear force of the downpour and wind and the increasingly close lightning strikes.  I struggled to see the page in front of me and the comments I was trying to write and realized it didn’t really matter as all I could really think of was how brave, focused, and unflappable this teacher and these students were.  As further distraction to the class, and because I was utterly amazed by what I was seeing, I couldn’t resist getting my camera out to record the proceedings of this “extreme” teaching.  The teacher didn’t bat an eyelash and the students were so lost in the darkness to me that I think they only smiled a bit more widely.

After the lesson was done the teacher calmly came over to where I was sitting in the dark to discuss the comments I had written smiling serenely as I tried to shout out all that I had seen that was good and ideas and suggestions for future lessons. During which rain flecks were pelting us through the cracks in the shutters and I had to keep a firm grip on my professionalism as what I really wanted to do was laugh and pound her on the back with hearty congratulations and share a guffaw.  However, I have learned the hard way that in Rwanda unseemly chortling is always best kept to oneself.

As the rain was still coming down in buckets I was unable to leave the room or dash across the school yard to make it to my next observation appointment and was in fact wondering if we should all be looking for higher ground as water began to flood into the room.  Again in unflappable Rwandan style, ntakibazo (no problem), four little girls jumped out of their seats, found brooms, and got busy with the work of pushing the water out of the room without comment or complaint.  Luckily the rain let up a bit and after a photo of this extremely self-possessed teacher and the jump-to-the-task little girls I made a mad dash for my next appointment in my big white plastic poncho and watched an equally intrepid teacher deliver an equally fine lesson on perimeter in only slightly improved conditions either illumination wise or acoustically.

So you think you can teach?  I am afraid in this round I would easily be one of the contestants on the list of those who may be sent home, as I was neither as focused nor resolute an observer than these young teachers were teachers.  If I am not voted off in this round, let’s see how I do in Round Two.

P.S. Leaving to go to another school in the now mere drizzle I was further impressed by the number of students standing out in the puddles to wish me a safe journey and the unflappable nature and good humor of the students carrying out the school's lunch through the mud and mizzle.

So You Think You Can Teach?

Prologue-The Concept



The Judges



I am now full on working with schools, motoring about training teachers, teaching, creating and helping to create visual aids, conducting workshops, and handing out lots of advice on how to “teach smarter, not harder,” engage all students, work with a classroom full of learners of disparate learning styles and abilities, as well as class sizes of sixty plus students.  So after just two months of this I state the obvious, “Teaching is hard!”  To be good is a gift where being adequate is even a bit challenging as let’s face it, even the act of showing up and stepping into the classroom takes a certain amount of courage and persistence.



My competition



About two years ago I told Dan that there should be a reality television show in which contestants go into various classrooms around the United States and teach.  Whomever best delivers the lesson, manages the students, and has students achieving the highest scores wins that round and is guaranteed a spot for the next week, while the remaining contestants vote one teacher “out of the classroom.”  The winner or last teacher standing is then appointed to be The United States Secretary of Education.  Makes sense right?  I thought we could call it, “So You Think You Can Teach?”  Well, even at my age sometimes wishes come true, or was that nightmares…anyway, I now feel that I am most definitely on the Rwandan version of, “So You Think You Can Teach? Rwanda.” I hope that the next few posts will demonstrate why, and also, perhaps, earn me a spot on the final three.  Please text my number if you agree…

The dress...it is here!

Yes, the dress.

Last week I completed my first foray into the world of fitted, made-for-you clothing in Rwanda, and to tell the truth I was left a little bit dazed by the venture, however, still ready for more.  I was a little bit knocked-for-six as who knew that a seamstress in Rwanda would be so serious about their craft and also so exacting of their models?   I guess when you are an experienced and gifted made-to-order specialist you are entitled to this uncompromising attitude.

When I first heard that having clothing made to order here was a real art and possibility I initially  thought the hardest part of this endeavor would be actually choosing the material for the dress as there are perhaps a thousand different designs to choose from. Well, maybe not a thousand, but that is certainly the way it seemed to me each time I looked.  For this first styling project I had gone fabric shopping four or five times before I could actually stay in a shop long enough to buy something without leaving glassy eyed and muttering, “There are so many…so many…”   On that sixth try at about hour three of going in and out of shops on Fabric Alley, I found a nice half measure of fabric and shelled out the 2,500 Rwandan Francs (about $5.00), breathed a sigh of relief, and smiled my way down the street.  

The second part of the project, finding a seamstress, was easy as I had the assistance of my friend and neighbor on this, and was brought to Mama Ana who has a shop setup in her family compound and just a few blocks from my own home.  Arriving at her shop I knew I was in good hands when after the expected niceties she got very serious and quiet as I presented the dress I would like, got out her design book and tape measure, and gave me a serious looking over.  As she measured me and sketched in her design book, neither my nervous antics nor her teen age children’s movements in and out of the shop could distract her from the measuring and figuring zone she appeared to be in.  Seeing that she was in the zone and didn’t need any more of my Midwestern chattering I relaxed, let her measure and figure, and spent some time looking at the posters on the wall of the many designs I could chose from if I was ever invited to a Rwandan wedding or could in any stretch of the imagination ever pull off such flamboyant designs and colors.  After the final figuring, bargaining, and date setting we left with plans to return a week later.



What I might have chosen.



Returning exactly one week later, I was thrilled to see this dress that had been made especially for me finished, freshly pressed, and smart looking hanging up on a wooden rack.  However, when I was asked to step behind the curtain to try it on to make sure it fit, I could see right off that this was going to be the type of fitting that stars do when they are headed for the red carpet in a dress that fits so well they have to be sewn into them.  The basic problem with the fit was that the side zipper was far too short to allow me to get into the dress.  I was already starting to sweat a bit as I tried to explain this to Mama Ana, however, she was having none of my chatter, set her jaw, stepped behind the curtain, and quite literally shoved me into the dress.  Once I was shoved, zipped, and buttoned into the dress it did fit perfectly and looked very nice on me.  I think, in part, it looked especially nice as I was forced to stand with perfect posture with such a tight fit and we all look better when we remember to stand up straight.  


 

Tools of the trade.

Beads of sweat were forming in earnest on my brow as I praised the handiwork of the dress and negotiated a longer zipper as well as just a tad more room in the ribcage area. Mama Ana made measurements anew, and I am sure that her sidelong glances where asking me what I had been eating in the past week as her measurements and design were spot on and the problem somehow lay on my side.  Stepping back behind the curtain I had a curious moment of trying to decide if I should consider panicking or breaking out into somewhat hysterical laughter as I could see that there was no way on this green earth that I was going to get this dress off by myself.  Luckily, I wisely chose laughter and pleas for help, “Mafasha!” over panicked ripping and tearing at the seams of the dress for my escape from the dress.  When Mama Ana stepped back behind the curtain  I couldn’t even look to see how tightly clenched her jaw must be by now as she mercilessly readjusted bone and flesh to get my pretty new party frock off my now profusely perspiring body.  I must have made a few wincing noises from behind the curtain as my friend and neighbor did seem seriously concerned for my well being as I emerged from behind the curtain. 



Beyond requesting a small donation of forty-five cents for the purchase of a new zipper and a command to return the next day no more was said to me by Mama Ana who had already gone to work with a razor blade to rip out the offending undersized zipper from the dress and ordered her son to go out to buy a new one.  My neighbor quietly and quickly ushered me out of the shop onto the dark street and I was left wondering how I was going to make it up to Mama Ana for the millimeters of fat I may have gained over the week on my rib cage.  



The master at work.



I returned the next day alone, a little nervous, with ready praise for the seamstress, and further apologies for not fitting into the dress while all the while knowing that if anything I have been losing a few millimeters here and there while in Rwanda. 

Usually, I drag my feet a bit on going back into a place where someone is so obviously irritated with me, whether rationally or not, but I was still excited about that dress.  I was excited as it is the very first garment that was made just for me, and the very first garment that I have ever had that actually looked better on me than on the hanger.  I wanted it irritation or not.



This time it fit, and while my praise and payment seemed to have little effect on the mood of the seamstress she did have her son run to the nearest store to buy a fresh brown paper bag for a proper and professional presentation of the dress.  I waved good-bye, wondered if my dreams of more garments made by Mama Ana were lost, breathed a sigh of relief, and smiled my way down the street.

Post Script

By the way, driven by another need greater than avoiding people that may or may not be irritated with me I just returned to Mama Ana’s shop today.  The need that was greater was to have puppets as part of a lesson for first graders, and the return I am happy to say was a good one.  I will even go so far as to say that as we worked on the design of the puppets that Mama Ana was having fun and finding me and my fat rib cage a little less irritating.  Adieu.



This Thing Called a Blog

I am not sure how many people are still with me out there, but for whomever is I certainly do appreciate the support.  Really I applaud you and appreciate you as I think you must have a great sense of curiosity and interest in learning.  I have never had a blog before, and would be surprised if I did again as it takes doing something like working in Rwanda to inspire the writing.  I have had lots of great comments and for a while thought I was responding to them via e-mail, until I noticed the address was the person’s name and followed by “no reply,” leading me believe my responses went out into cyber space somewhere.  I also tried to post a comment to the comments, but for some reason that didn’t work either. I apologize if there is a way to respond to the comments and I haven’t figured it out. I have been trying in the postings to answer some of the questions that were in the comments and for some still intend to. 

You may have noticed a new look to the page and that was in order to add a page for, Rochester Montessori School’s Birches Classroom, of which my niece Maddie is a member and to whom I turned over design duty.  So far it has been really enjoyable to have this connection as they ask interesting questions that I would not have thought of for me to answer.  It is actually worth a look in general as they have inspired me to try harder and get more photos posted.  I did, however, cause a small riot in the market as my neighborhood friends and I went there to take pictures of food and it did not go over very well as, understandably, most adults do not want their photo taken.  Children, on the other hand, just about climb over each other to be in a photo as I think for many it is very unlikely anyone in their family has a camera and it is a novelty.

So…this thing called a blog.  Thank you again as I do appreciate the support and while you all are having a doozy of a winter I hope the tropical pictures of Rwanda warm you a bit.  Here are a few more.