Inspiration, Part I
Teacher: The biggest lesson I've learned...
Me: (expecting a pointer on some aspect of life that is probably inapplicable to me) What?
Teacher: This. (holding up two fingers, kind of like a gangster)
Me: Two... (in my mind: again, what?)
Teacher: Yes.
Me: ...what.
(pause)
Me: Oh! The peace sign?!?
Teacher: Yes, the sign. I walk into my classroom, hold up my two fingers, and the children are quiet right away.
Me: You do?! I mean, really? And it works?!
Teacher: It does. It works well!
Inspiration, Part II
Teacher: May I ask you a question?
Me: Of course!
Teacher: You are left-handed.
Me: Yes.
Teacher: How do you write so well?
Me: Umm, I mean, uh. I just...learned to write this way when I was little.
Teacher: Is it normal in America?
Me: Yes! I mean, it's normal, but not too common. About 10% of Americans are left-handed. My dad is, so maybe that's how I learned. Does anyone here write with there left hand?
Teacher: No one in this class, no.
Me: Anyone in this country?
Teacher: My own son! But he is three years old, and I wanted to make sure he changed hands before he learned to write. What do you think?
Me: I love being left-handed! I think it makes me unique and kind of special. People notice. It's different...in a good way.
Teacher: I wanted to change my son over, but seeing you I'm not so sure. So you say special? Different?
Me: Yes. I love it.
Teacher: Okay. Thank you.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Food and Faces
On Friday, I was invited to a teachers' social where guests consumed a dish called achu (made of cocoyam puree, palm oil "soup," some kind of meat, and "vegetable," as they described it to me) which is eaten without silverware. Of course I'm not picky about manners or anything, and I was pretty pumped to try dipping my fingers into mashed cocoyam and then coat the puree in soup. It was by far the most unique eating experience I have ever had, but it actually did get a little repulsive to me after a while. Everyone was excited for me to "snap" them with my camera as they ate.
As always when I'm away from home, my mood and emotions ebb and flow. While the prospect of coming up with even one more idea for the school makes me a little nervous, I keep reminding myself that everything will work out. In an attempt to do some drawing exercise that resulted in everyone having something different, today was "self-portraits"-- although a lot of the kids took liberties, making themselves blonde, giving themselves extremely long and flowing hair, etc. It was cute.
I know everyone is accustomed to copying exactly what the teaching writes or draws on the blackboard, but I really was not expecting so much confusion when I explained that for each step, there would be multiple choices. The first thing I asked everyone to do was draw themselves a head-- I drew them a few different possible shapes (circular, oval, defined chin, etc. I know, I am not actually an artist) and explained that it should be big so that they could fit all the parts of their face inside. I got blank stares. From 6th graders. We moved on to eyes, eyebrows, nose, etc. and I would give them several examples and kids would draw all of them exactly as I did rather than choose one for themselves. Eventually, though, I think everyone ended up excited by their finished product: colorful and personal. At least it appeared that way...
As always when I'm away from home, my mood and emotions ebb and flow. While the prospect of coming up with even one more idea for the school makes me a little nervous, I keep reminding myself that everything will work out. In an attempt to do some drawing exercise that resulted in everyone having something different, today was "self-portraits"-- although a lot of the kids took liberties, making themselves blonde, giving themselves extremely long and flowing hair, etc. It was cute.
I know everyone is accustomed to copying exactly what the teaching writes or draws on the blackboard, but I really was not expecting so much confusion when I explained that for each step, there would be multiple choices. The first thing I asked everyone to do was draw themselves a head-- I drew them a few different possible shapes (circular, oval, defined chin, etc. I know, I am not actually an artist) and explained that it should be big so that they could fit all the parts of their face inside. I got blank stares. From 6th graders. We moved on to eyes, eyebrows, nose, etc. and I would give them several examples and kids would draw all of them exactly as I did rather than choose one for themselves. Eventually, though, I think everyone ended up excited by their finished product: colorful and personal. At least it appeared that way...
...or maybe they were just enjoying getting "snapped!"
Thursday, February 17, 2011
The Foggy Future
Upon receiving this 4.5-week stint as some kind of teacher/foreigner/thing at Bastos Primary School, there were some vague mentions of music, drawing, children, me learning something, and maybe everyone else learning something in the process, too. What I was getting myself into was sort of unclear, but I was pretty thrilled to be involved. I like being challenged, I generally enjoy being a leader, and I love being with people of other cultures. While the thought of teaching music made me a little nervous, I figured it was doable.
I had three days to kind of get to know people and see how things were done. There are plenty of obvious and drastic differences between modern American and Cameroonian schools, but the two that hit me first were 1) the ginormous class sizes and therefore virtually no individualized attention and 2) the disciplinary aspect. I have heard more talk and threats about beating than I have actually seen (and I know it was probably just this way in the U.S. not too long ago)...but it still makes me uncomfortable. Until that point, I had been worried about what in the world I would teach these kids. After a few days, though, I decided that the way I taught was probably more important than what I taught. I resolved that my goals were to try to make kids feel a bit more like individuals while I was the "teacher"...and to prove to teachers and students that a classroom can be commanded without violence.
As you have seen, Week 1 is music. Everyone in the class is doing the same thing, so Goal 1 can really only be achieved to a small extent. But in terms of discipline, I realize now that I had an extremely unrealistic idea of what it would be like to be in charge. I naively imagined that kids would react positively to kindness, and maybe show me respect if I showed it to them. When the real teacher is in the room, things generally run smoothly. The second the teacher steps out, however, kids go absolutely ballistic. Fighting, screaming, running around...immediately. I begin by respectfully asking students to pay attention, and when that doesn't work I resort to using some of the same language and tone that the teachers use. That has never worked for me, either. I have introduced the two-finger peace sign to some classes--meaning quiet--and it generally works once or twice before the kids realize that no one is going to get a stick-slap on the hands from me for continuing their horseplay. When I can't continue, students in the front row always say "Madame, you must use the beating stick!" Okay, no, sorry, although I have the authority to use "the beating stick" (maybe) I am not going to do that. Ever. But I have deduced that it is literally the ONLY mechanism for keeping these kids in line. They take nothing else seriously. And I think they take advantage of me because they know that I wouldn't do anything with it other than slam it on a desk (which I tried, and then I couldn't not laugh about it because I felt like using it for real would make me such a monster).
I had some extra time the other day with one of the Class 6 groups (like 6th grade) as we waited for their teacher to return to the class to dismiss them at the end of the day. I asked them questions, a few of them asked me questions, but it was still pretty chaotic, probably about 10% of the group was actually engaged in conversation. A frequent question I get is "why do you write with your left hand?" and another one I got that day was "why do teachers write 'A+ and C- on your homework?" I answered all of their questions and had a good time doing so.
Finally a girl asked (after I admitted that I would never hit any of them), "Madame, was there beating at your school?"
"No, there was no beating," I replied with a slight smile.
The entire room fell into a stunned silence. I had literally never seen a classroom at that school so quiet. I smiled bigger--I couldn't help it, mostly because they were actually listening to what I was saying...and because I secretly wanted the entire student and teacher population to know that fact about where I come from. And I was nervous because I wasn't sure how to explain why, especially without being offensive.
"What do the teachers do then?"
Uh...two-finger peace signs? Rewards for good behavior? What? I don't know. Smaller classes definitely help. And teachers send kids to the principal's office. Get their parents involved. All things that could never realistically be done here.
So...I have no idea what to do. I am in a pretty constant state of stress because I can't think of anything to do beyond this week with incredibly large groups of kids that I have to acquire my own resources for and that I can't even control on my own. It's not really something I can talk to the teachers about, especially because I essentially volunteered myself for this whole thing. I've had a really good time this week--even despite difficulties, there have been some incredible moments and a lot of learning being done on both sides--but when I think beyond Friday I start freaking out.
I've never worked completely alone like this. I've never had no one that I had to agree with or no one in my situation to bounce ideas off of. I understand that I pretty much put myself into this situation by choice, but it makes me feel pretty lonely.
A friend wrote this to me before my summer in Paraguay and I have been drawn to it these past few days. Especially trying to believe the last few lines...
"You are human in your fear.
Grow as you draw from the deep courage.
Do not lose your sense of awe and wonder for unknowns,
Even when those are part of you.
Explore and observe;
Rediscover continually that fear;
The tangle of vines, webs, branches
That cause you unease;
The moments on the edge of feeling fine.
Fear, however dark, will be soil.
As the wind blows,
Say out loud again 'I'm scared!'
But say to all of your listening self too: 'I won't forget this feeling when it leaves, untangles and all is well.'
Know in confidence that fear gives way,
Shakes free and unearths something too."
I had three days to kind of get to know people and see how things were done. There are plenty of obvious and drastic differences between modern American and Cameroonian schools, but the two that hit me first were 1) the ginormous class sizes and therefore virtually no individualized attention and 2) the disciplinary aspect. I have heard more talk and threats about beating than I have actually seen (and I know it was probably just this way in the U.S. not too long ago)...but it still makes me uncomfortable. Until that point, I had been worried about what in the world I would teach these kids. After a few days, though, I decided that the way I taught was probably more important than what I taught. I resolved that my goals were to try to make kids feel a bit more like individuals while I was the "teacher"...and to prove to teachers and students that a classroom can be commanded without violence.
As you have seen, Week 1 is music. Everyone in the class is doing the same thing, so Goal 1 can really only be achieved to a small extent. But in terms of discipline, I realize now that I had an extremely unrealistic idea of what it would be like to be in charge. I naively imagined that kids would react positively to kindness, and maybe show me respect if I showed it to them. When the real teacher is in the room, things generally run smoothly. The second the teacher steps out, however, kids go absolutely ballistic. Fighting, screaming, running around...immediately. I begin by respectfully asking students to pay attention, and when that doesn't work I resort to using some of the same language and tone that the teachers use. That has never worked for me, either. I have introduced the two-finger peace sign to some classes--meaning quiet--and it generally works once or twice before the kids realize that no one is going to get a stick-slap on the hands from me for continuing their horseplay. When I can't continue, students in the front row always say "Madame, you must use the beating stick!" Okay, no, sorry, although I have the authority to use "the beating stick" (maybe) I am not going to do that. Ever. But I have deduced that it is literally the ONLY mechanism for keeping these kids in line. They take nothing else seriously. And I think they take advantage of me because they know that I wouldn't do anything with it other than slam it on a desk (which I tried, and then I couldn't not laugh about it because I felt like using it for real would make me such a monster).
I had some extra time the other day with one of the Class 6 groups (like 6th grade) as we waited for their teacher to return to the class to dismiss them at the end of the day. I asked them questions, a few of them asked me questions, but it was still pretty chaotic, probably about 10% of the group was actually engaged in conversation. A frequent question I get is "why do you write with your left hand?" and another one I got that day was "why do teachers write 'A+ and C- on your homework?" I answered all of their questions and had a good time doing so.
Finally a girl asked (after I admitted that I would never hit any of them), "Madame, was there beating at your school?"
"No, there was no beating," I replied with a slight smile.
The entire room fell into a stunned silence. I had literally never seen a classroom at that school so quiet. I smiled bigger--I couldn't help it, mostly because they were actually listening to what I was saying...and because I secretly wanted the entire student and teacher population to know that fact about where I come from. And I was nervous because I wasn't sure how to explain why, especially without being offensive.
"What do the teachers do then?"
Uh...two-finger peace signs? Rewards for good behavior? What? I don't know. Smaller classes definitely help. And teachers send kids to the principal's office. Get their parents involved. All things that could never realistically be done here.
So...I have no idea what to do. I am in a pretty constant state of stress because I can't think of anything to do beyond this week with incredibly large groups of kids that I have to acquire my own resources for and that I can't even control on my own. It's not really something I can talk to the teachers about, especially because I essentially volunteered myself for this whole thing. I've had a really good time this week--even despite difficulties, there have been some incredible moments and a lot of learning being done on both sides--but when I think beyond Friday I start freaking out.
I've never worked completely alone like this. I've never had no one that I had to agree with or no one in my situation to bounce ideas off of. I understand that I pretty much put myself into this situation by choice, but it makes me feel pretty lonely.
A friend wrote this to me before my summer in Paraguay and I have been drawn to it these past few days. Especially trying to believe the last few lines...
"You are human in your fear.
Grow as you draw from the deep courage.
Do not lose your sense of awe and wonder for unknowns,
Even when those are part of you.
Explore and observe;
Rediscover continually that fear;
The tangle of vines, webs, branches
That cause you unease;
The moments on the edge of feeling fine.
Fear, however dark, will be soil.
As the wind blows,
Say out loud again 'I'm scared!'
But say to all of your listening self too: 'I won't forget this feeling when it leaves, untangles and all is well.'
Know in confidence that fear gives way,
Shakes free and unearths something too."
Monday, February 14, 2011
Day 1
I was pretty darn nervous about today. It was difficult to keep the huge classes engaged at times--but really, the whole afternoon turned out as well as I could have hoped.
You can only sort of see it in the video here, but the kids in all four 90-student classes that learned this today seemed to really enjoy it a lot. The teachers were excited to see everyone smiling and clapping to a new song, too!
I don't think this is too bad for half an hour of work... :)
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Shakin' to a New Beat
Although I haven't starting actually "teaching" yet, being at school is pretty exciting...sometimes. This entire week has been full of celebrations in honor of Youth Day tomorrow. In the past three days, I have sat through a cumulative 6 hours of traditional dances, random skits, and competitions between Cameroonian schools. The first 2 or so were extremely exciting--the dancing, even done by young children, is absolutely incredible--but after that it got a litttttle ridiculous. But I'm still learning a lot and I love talking to all of the kids in their adorable African English...and trying to impress them with my barely conversant French! I've also been doing a lot of dancing myself--the celebrating involves African DPs, and I have to tell you all that there's nothing quite like dancing like a fool to Waka Waka and being able to say "This is Africa!!" and really meaning it!!! In general, even when there are not celebrations, school seems to involve zero productivity and a lot of "discipline." (I have to mention that the students march in line to their classrooms every morning and chant "Always be an obedient child (x3)! Never disobey." I practically peed my pants when I witnessed this. I know, I'm terrible.) Maybe things will change next week when they get back on a normal schedule. I'm glad the celebrations and things were this week, though, because not only am I learning about Cameroonian history and culture, I'm getting to know teachers and the kids are getting used to seeing a white girl around before I actually do any kind of activities with them. The teachers are skeptical of my presence sometimes, but I explain myself and smile excessively, and then they bestow upon me their idiomatic blessing: "You are very welcome." It makes my heart melt, even if some of them give me the stone face as they say it (others are all smiles, so...phew!). I'm getting a lot of attention. I'm not even very blonde and kids just walk up to me and run their hands through my ponytail whenever I try to walk anywhere (I told one of them it was okay, and I think the other 1,800 caught on!). They give me all of these funny gifts and it's so cute.  |
| The assortment of goodies that I received yesterday from kids at school: two candies, one bag of very stale and crumbled cookies, three plastic butterfly barrettes, and a piece of gum which I actually consumed. Today was two small boxes full of broken cookies and sticky candy. I am pretty nervous to start leading my own activities with the kids on Monday. There are 20 classes of about 90 students each and I will see all of them once a week for 30-45 minutes, so it's only 2-3 hours of work per day. Still...the number of kids is a huge challenge...and will they even be interested? More importantly (kind of), will the teachers approve? I have basically been informed that neither the students nor the school have any kind of supplies ("Paper?" I asked. "No," they replied.). So I may be sticking mostly to activities that do not involve the consumption of resources...but one of my goals for the next 4 weeks is to get some colorful artwork onto the classrooms' bare cement walls! |
Monday, February 7, 2011
Chapter 2: Africa
After about 24 hours of fairly smooth travel, I made it to Yaoundé, Cameroon on Thursday evening. It was so exciting to see Erika and Cia and Chris (former neighbors who invited me to stay with them here) again, although I was basically a walking corpse (running on about 30 minutes of sleep since the morning before); I collapsed into bed at 10 pm...or 4 pm EST...and thought I wouldn't have any issue with the time change at all. Feeling generally fatigued for the first few days, I hung out with Erika at the house and caught up with the family over the weekend. I saw a lot of Yaoundé through a car window--it is bustling and colorful and I can't wait to explore it more. I also played softball with a bunch of American expats (I was absolutely horrific, especially in the outfield, but miraculously managed to score for our losing team). I beg the family's guard (yes, I know some diplomats who are clearly a big deal here) to speak French with me--although he speaks English--and he does, and it rocks.
While this went on, I was actually getting pretty nervous about the rest of my time here. First thing I learned about myself when I arrived: I am NOT okay without a plan. I thought it would be exciting to come to a new place and just get myself involved in whatever came up...but it had me worried sick all weekend (I am not comfortable with traveling halfway around the world and lazing around in a house the entire time) and it proved SO much harder said than done. Which brings me to this afternoon:
Cia suggested that we visit one of the public schools in the area and see if they were interested in having a volunteer around for 6 weeks. Points considered: 1) they are not actually soliciting volunteers, and therefore 2) they are probably going to be totally confused when I show up there asking for work. Also, 3) might they be confused enough by my offer to be offended? But...oh well! I was ready to act like a fool on another continent where I am already pretty ridiculous by definition (Caucasian, English-speaking American), and I obviously did not mean any harm. I figured I had nothing to lose and a lot to gain.
I felt like I was in a movie as we drove towards the school: noticing our whiteness and unusually spiffy car (for the area), kids started running alongside us, calling to us and trying to grab onto the doorhandles. The sheer number of children running and playing around outside made for a deafening streamline of shrieks and screams as we got out of the car and awkwardly walked up some yellow concrete stairs trying to find the school's headmaster. We walked into the first tiny room we saw and encountered a pudgy, paper-clip chewing female teacher, and Cia began conversation. She explained that she was from the World Bank and that I (who she claimed was her niece...but is secretly just her former neighbor and daughter's babysitter of 2 years...how totally sneaky of us) was here visiting for 6 weeks and was looking to volunteer somewhere, that I had some experience with children, was apt and motivated, etc. It was no surprise to me that paper-clip lady looked at us like we had 39 heads.
Asking what kind of work I was looking to do at a school (not being a teacher), we tried to explain that I was willing to do anything I was capable of that they were interested in having: maybe a teacher's assistant, because two people in a classroom of students is more effective than one, Cia pointed out (to those of you who are totally doubting my French skills: some of Cameroon is English-speaking or bilingual, and these classes would be taught in [some loose version of] my native language). Still intrigued by the idea of having me--but not convinced that a teacher's assistant was very valuable--she asked: "Could you tell us about your talents?" I considered that a very legitimate question under these awkward circumstances, but not one that I was really mentally prepared to answer. Cia immediately said "well, Caitlin is extremely gifted in singing." The paper-clip lady--who had now been joined by another large woman with drawn-in red eyebrows--lit up and decided that I would teach the children songs. Okay. She then asks me if I can draw. Ummmm, why not? So, I will now also be teaching the children how to draw. They decided that they would start with that and maybe come up with ideas later on. I went with it. I can sing and do art.
I met one teacher who called himself Mr. Charles. He led me to his room and I poked my head into a class of what was probably more than 100 elementary school students crammed into a room no bigger than one might see in an American school. I honestly had never seen anything like it other than in pictures and video footage of Africa. However, it immediately reminded me of schools I'd seen in Paraguay and Ecuador, re: productivity (or lack thereof), actual education provided (or lack thereof), and dedication of teachers to the cause (or lack thereof). Simply put, it was a zoo. This is when I decided to mention again that I was extremely competent in English and would be happy to help out as an assistant during academic instruction, and that I had also traveled to several different countries and some cultural exploration might be interesting for the students. Of course, I got the 39-head stare from Mr. Charles at that point. Oh well.
So, I start my self-created volunteer position at the school tomorrow. Luckily for me, this week is "special" because they are preparing for a holiday presentation on Friday (yes, that is the ONLY thing they will be working on all week) but I will go and observe, and maybe try to prove myself as some kind of actual helpful resource.
I'm not going to deny the obvious fact that this is mostly me not wanting to be a bum for the next month and a half, and I am thrilled to have somewhere to go during the day. Who begs to volunteer somewhere they're not needed? you are probably asking. Yeah, I asked myself that, too, but clearly schools here do not have everything they need, even if they're not sure where to put someone who is offering to work for free. I'm not saying this because I'm some pretentious American who thinks she cans save the world, but this may turn out great for them. They could realize that I do have a lot to offer, that the kids love it, and that the teachers appreciate the help given their typical 100:1 ratio. They've obviously never had an offer like this before so they have no idea what to expect. My extreme fantasy is that maybe they'll want more people to come and do similar things. But there's also another possibility--what I am extremely afraid of: they could decide that I am a complete waste of time and wonder why offered to be there at all. They could think that what I come up with to do with the kids is stupid. I'm hoping that as time passes they might find some more practical uses for me than singing songs and drawing. But I am confident that I can expand that narrow spectrum of activities and hopefully figure out what to do even with a ridiculous number of students and (most likely) no resources whatsoever.
I have very vivid memories of Keiko Mori, this nice young Japanese lady who spent two weeks in my second grade class. It was so thrilling for us at the time: she showed us Totoro, brought us rice balls wrapped in seaweed...and she had never seen a lolipop. Her being in our class made me excited about learning, that's for sure, and I know she wasn't there just for us--she wanted to see how it was done in America and do some of her own learning too. But it was still awesome. So that's my glimmer of hope at the moment.
While this went on, I was actually getting pretty nervous about the rest of my time here. First thing I learned about myself when I arrived: I am NOT okay without a plan. I thought it would be exciting to come to a new place and just get myself involved in whatever came up...but it had me worried sick all weekend (I am not comfortable with traveling halfway around the world and lazing around in a house the entire time) and it proved SO much harder said than done. Which brings me to this afternoon:
Cia suggested that we visit one of the public schools in the area and see if they were interested in having a volunteer around for 6 weeks. Points considered: 1) they are not actually soliciting volunteers, and therefore 2) they are probably going to be totally confused when I show up there asking for work. Also, 3) might they be confused enough by my offer to be offended? But...oh well! I was ready to act like a fool on another continent where I am already pretty ridiculous by definition (Caucasian, English-speaking American), and I obviously did not mean any harm. I figured I had nothing to lose and a lot to gain.
I felt like I was in a movie as we drove towards the school: noticing our whiteness and unusually spiffy car (for the area), kids started running alongside us, calling to us and trying to grab onto the doorhandles. The sheer number of children running and playing around outside made for a deafening streamline of shrieks and screams as we got out of the car and awkwardly walked up some yellow concrete stairs trying to find the school's headmaster. We walked into the first tiny room we saw and encountered a pudgy, paper-clip chewing female teacher, and Cia began conversation. She explained that she was from the World Bank and that I (who she claimed was her niece...but is secretly just her former neighbor and daughter's babysitter of 2 years...how totally sneaky of us) was here visiting for 6 weeks and was looking to volunteer somewhere, that I had some experience with children, was apt and motivated, etc. It was no surprise to me that paper-clip lady looked at us like we had 39 heads.
Asking what kind of work I was looking to do at a school (not being a teacher), we tried to explain that I was willing to do anything I was capable of that they were interested in having: maybe a teacher's assistant, because two people in a classroom of students is more effective than one, Cia pointed out (to those of you who are totally doubting my French skills: some of Cameroon is English-speaking or bilingual, and these classes would be taught in [some loose version of] my native language). Still intrigued by the idea of having me--but not convinced that a teacher's assistant was very valuable--she asked: "Could you tell us about your talents?" I considered that a very legitimate question under these awkward circumstances, but not one that I was really mentally prepared to answer. Cia immediately said "well, Caitlin is extremely gifted in singing." The paper-clip lady--who had now been joined by another large woman with drawn-in red eyebrows--lit up and decided that I would teach the children songs. Okay. She then asks me if I can draw. Ummmm, why not? So, I will now also be teaching the children how to draw. They decided that they would start with that and maybe come up with ideas later on. I went with it. I can sing and do art.
I met one teacher who called himself Mr. Charles. He led me to his room and I poked my head into a class of what was probably more than 100 elementary school students crammed into a room no bigger than one might see in an American school. I honestly had never seen anything like it other than in pictures and video footage of Africa. However, it immediately reminded me of schools I'd seen in Paraguay and Ecuador, re: productivity (or lack thereof), actual education provided (or lack thereof), and dedication of teachers to the cause (or lack thereof). Simply put, it was a zoo. This is when I decided to mention again that I was extremely competent in English and would be happy to help out as an assistant during academic instruction, and that I had also traveled to several different countries and some cultural exploration might be interesting for the students. Of course, I got the 39-head stare from Mr. Charles at that point. Oh well.
So, I start my self-created volunteer position at the school tomorrow. Luckily for me, this week is "special" because they are preparing for a holiday presentation on Friday (yes, that is the ONLY thing they will be working on all week) but I will go and observe, and maybe try to prove myself as some kind of actual helpful resource.
I'm not going to deny the obvious fact that this is mostly me not wanting to be a bum for the next month and a half, and I am thrilled to have somewhere to go during the day. Who begs to volunteer somewhere they're not needed? you are probably asking. Yeah, I asked myself that, too, but clearly schools here do not have everything they need, even if they're not sure where to put someone who is offering to work for free. I'm not saying this because I'm some pretentious American who thinks she cans save the world, but this may turn out great for them. They could realize that I do have a lot to offer, that the kids love it, and that the teachers appreciate the help given their typical 100:1 ratio. They've obviously never had an offer like this before so they have no idea what to expect. My extreme fantasy is that maybe they'll want more people to come and do similar things. But there's also another possibility--what I am extremely afraid of: they could decide that I am a complete waste of time and wonder why offered to be there at all. They could think that what I come up with to do with the kids is stupid. I'm hoping that as time passes they might find some more practical uses for me than singing songs and drawing. But I am confident that I can expand that narrow spectrum of activities and hopefully figure out what to do even with a ridiculous number of students and (most likely) no resources whatsoever.
I have very vivid memories of Keiko Mori, this nice young Japanese lady who spent two weeks in my second grade class. It was so thrilling for us at the time: she showed us Totoro, brought us rice balls wrapped in seaweed...and she had never seen a lolipop. Her being in our class made me excited about learning, that's for sure, and I know she wasn't there just for us--she wanted to see how it was done in America and do some of her own learning too. But it was still awesome. So that's my glimmer of hope at the moment.
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