"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.