Today, I am off to Houston, Texas for a 3-day training session to prepare for this summer, which I will be spending in Matagalpa, Nicaragua with Amigos de las Americas! I will be supervising high school students as they facilitate public health projects in various communities in the area. I am ecstatic to be working with AMIGOS again.
While fundraising for this endeavor is not really required, I feel that I owe SO much to this organization and plan to give it a try. (PLEASE don't cringe and close the page just yet!)
I know that everyone has a cause that is special to them and the whole world is looking for support. I also know that many of you--mostly my high school and college friends--might not even have a job, but just $5 from ten friends would make an incredible impact. I know there are many people who have very little to spare, and I deeply respect that. But many of us are incredibly lucky-- luckier than we realize!
On my donation page, I've written about my experiences in Paraguay in 2009 with this organization. In addition to doing great work in Latin America, I can safely say that my life will never be the same because of AMIGOS. I hope that each of you who is able considers a donation. Small numbers add up to big ones!
(Please click on one of these links!)
From the bottom of my heart, thank you!
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Kribi, etc.
Feeling a bit crispy after a sunny and seafood-y weekend in Kribi, on the coast of Cameroon.
Saying goodbyes at school in the morning and beginning the long trek home tomorrow night! With that, Chapter 2 comes to a close. A bientôt, Africa!
Saying goodbyes at school in the morning and beginning the long trek home tomorrow night! With that, Chapter 2 comes to a close. A bientôt, Africa!
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Une Bonne Fête
I realize that you all may have this image in your head of me completely miserable after that post on Friday. But by the end of the week, when being at school is the toughest, I have forgotten about the beginning. I really enjoy Mondays--5th grade--and I think it's because I spent a lot of time with those students and teachers towards the beginning, so we're much more comfortable with each other. They are always so enthusiastic about seeing me; the majority of them are smiling and totally into my weird white girl activities every step of the way.
The older kids seems to "get" the cultural exchange a little better than the younger ones; last Tuesday (using an idea inspired by my fantastic cousin Allison) I did a Q&A type thing with the 6th grade, where they were asked to tell me about themselves and their family and also ask me about my culture and country on a piece of paper, and then I drew questions from a bag. I got a lot of very mechanical questions and descriptions based on how I phrased the assignment (e.g. I said, "you could ask about my family." Question received multiple times: "How is your family?"), but it was still a success in my mind.
Although we're all speaking English, the language here is totally different from what I'm used to in many respects. Their liberal use of the gerund tense led to questions like "are you people eating fufu?" and "are you having blacks in America?" Four people asked if I knew Hannah Montana, and one girl wanted to know why white people have long noses and black people have short ones (thank goodness I didn't pull that question in front of the class...). Later, I was able to go back and read what they wrote about themselves. It was interesting to see what kids said that were the same--for example, a huge majority talked about how peaceful of a country Cameroon is, and that's why they love it. Most of them told me their favorite food, the name of their traditional dance, where their parents come from. It was heartwarming to see so many kids talk about how much they loved their families and how much their parents care for them. On the other hand, there were a couple not-so-happy stories--kids who said they didn't have enough money to eat in the morning or that their parents were sick and didn't work. They stick out in my mind against the others, but really there were very few.
I was planning on continuing answering questions with 6th grade today, but I was not surprised when teachers told me at the last minute yesterday that there "may not be functional classes" on account of International Women's Day celebrations today. It's a huge deal in Cameroon compared to the United States, where the majority of people aren't even aware of its existence (Cameroonians were quite confused to hear that: "it's international!" they argued). Most women wear special dresses made out of a fabric exclusively for Women's Day, and it's different every year. It's got the date on it and everything!
There was a parade this morning which I sadly did not attend. I did, however, spend what seemed like an eternity at a bar this morning with the male teachers. We discussed many culturally insensitive things I have done here (crossing my legs in the presence of a man, extending my arm to shake hands with an elder, etc. Oops.). They definitely looked askance at me for choosing a Fanta, but I decided that 10:30 AM was just not an acceptable time for me to be drinking Guinness. Over the course of the day, I probably drank an entire liter of soda on my own because they would NEVER take no for an answer when they asked what I would "take next." Later in the afternoon, when we met up with the women, we were each presented with a heaping plate of chicken and fried plantains (which I was pretty please with considering I didn't have to dip my fingers into anything--I just had to pick up the food and eat it). Honestly, I LOVE fried plantains, but when this plate appeared in front of me I definitely freaked out a little:
At this point, post-consumption of about half of the contents of this photo, I'm just praying that I don't end up with food poisoning. Unknown meat tends to be a recipe for disaster. But the phrase "When in Rome..." dictates my life in other countries and I am more than happy about it.
So, Bonne Fête to all! Happy Women's Day!
The older kids seems to "get" the cultural exchange a little better than the younger ones; last Tuesday (using an idea inspired by my fantastic cousin Allison) I did a Q&A type thing with the 6th grade, where they were asked to tell me about themselves and their family and also ask me about my culture and country on a piece of paper, and then I drew questions from a bag. I got a lot of very mechanical questions and descriptions based on how I phrased the assignment (e.g. I said, "you could ask about my family." Question received multiple times: "How is your family?"), but it was still a success in my mind.
Although we're all speaking English, the language here is totally different from what I'm used to in many respects. Their liberal use of the gerund tense led to questions like "are you people eating fufu?" and "are you having blacks in America?" Four people asked if I knew Hannah Montana, and one girl wanted to know why white people have long noses and black people have short ones (thank goodness I didn't pull that question in front of the class...). Later, I was able to go back and read what they wrote about themselves. It was interesting to see what kids said that were the same--for example, a huge majority talked about how peaceful of a country Cameroon is, and that's why they love it. Most of them told me their favorite food, the name of their traditional dance, where their parents come from. It was heartwarming to see so many kids talk about how much they loved their families and how much their parents care for them. On the other hand, there were a couple not-so-happy stories--kids who said they didn't have enough money to eat in the morning or that their parents were sick and didn't work. They stick out in my mind against the others, but really there were very few.
I was planning on continuing answering questions with 6th grade today, but I was not surprised when teachers told me at the last minute yesterday that there "may not be functional classes" on account of International Women's Day celebrations today. It's a huge deal in Cameroon compared to the United States, where the majority of people aren't even aware of its existence (Cameroonians were quite confused to hear that: "it's international!" they argued). Most women wear special dresses made out of a fabric exclusively for Women's Day, and it's different every year. It's got the date on it and everything!
There was a parade this morning which I sadly did not attend. I did, however, spend what seemed like an eternity at a bar this morning with the male teachers. We discussed many culturally insensitive things I have done here (crossing my legs in the presence of a man, extending my arm to shake hands with an elder, etc. Oops.). They definitely looked askance at me for choosing a Fanta, but I decided that 10:30 AM was just not an acceptable time for me to be drinking Guinness. Over the course of the day, I probably drank an entire liter of soda on my own because they would NEVER take no for an answer when they asked what I would "take next." Later in the afternoon, when we met up with the women, we were each presented with a heaping plate of chicken and fried plantains (which I was pretty please with considering I didn't have to dip my fingers into anything--I just had to pick up the food and eat it). Honestly, I LOVE fried plantains, but when this plate appeared in front of me I definitely freaked out a little:
At this point, post-consumption of about half of the contents of this photo, I'm just praying that I don't end up with food poisoning. Unknown meat tends to be a recipe for disaster. But the phrase "When in Rome..." dictates my life in other countries and I am more than happy about it.
So, Bonne Fête to all! Happy Women's Day!
Friday, March 4, 2011
Burning Out
Today I finished up drawing/self-portraits with four classes of 7-to-8-year-olds in class 2, like 2nd grade. I always have the most difficult time with this group. All of the classes at every age are a little rowdy, but these kids in particular are not easy to keep quiet...or from running, fighting, screaming, crying, hitting, kicking, and the list goes on. I cannot convey in words how frustrated I feel when I try to explain whatever activity we're supposed to do that day and I can't hear my own voice.
I try every non-violent method I can think of to get them to listen. The peace sign has been worn out, and I've moved on to things like, "if you can hear me, clap twice" or other call-and-repeat tactics that the local teachers use. These kinds of things work for a minute, but pretty much everything I think of is rendered useless after the first time.
Today I brought some sticky notes in the shape of hearts and told students (in the last 5 minutes--I forgot about them before that) that they could earn one if they were respectful and listened. And they did listen--for about 60 seconds. Still, I awarded each of them a sticky note at the end of class. At least, I tried to. As soon as I gave the first two kids their prizes, dozens of others began swarming me. I had explained that everyone would receive one if they sat at their desks, and again tried to tell them that I couldn't keep track of who had one and who didn't if they weren't sitting down. No response. Maybe my explanation was too complicated, but then I couldn't think of any other way to tell them. And it's not like they could hear anything I was saying anyway because half the class was running around and screaming themselves. Immediately I started hearing, "Madame, he has stolen my own!" or "Madame, this boy has two!" from every corner of the room. There was more shouting and fighting. There were tears. And I was completely out of ideas and frustrated almost to the point of crying myself.
Of course, I want these kids to learn the songs I have to teach them, to learn something about the world, do the activities and have something tangible to show their parents/teachers (the drawing they have all theoretically done), or whatever. But at this point, that is not my concern at all. Aside from my own objectives in that regard, I don't want to do more harm than good. Sometimes I get so frustrated and angry that I find myself screaming at the top of my lungs to try and keep kids from running around, hitting each other, or whatever else they might be doing. If 6 kids are crying by the end of my 45 minutes with them, I am obviously incapable of being in the class as the sole authority figure. At the end of my second class 2 today, having spent the entire 45 minutes amidst complete and utter chaos with no other adult in sight, I decided to bring it up with the teacher. If I could find her.
I found her chatting with several other teachers (what were their 100-child classes doing at that moment?) and said something pretty stupid. But I was so angry. I walked up and said "I'm sorry, I really don't think I can come back to your class next week."
Another male teacher responds. "Why not?"
"I just...they really have no interest in listening to me." I wasn't sure how to put it politely, and without getting the class in trouble, which I knew would result in a beating. The male teacher laughed. I was on the verge of tears.
"Ah, yes. But you are the teacher. Are they understanding what you are saying to them?"
"I think so."
More laughing. "You just have to try."
At this point, I was livid. "I am trying. I have tried everything I can think of. I don't want to beat them. I won't beat them. But kids are crying and fighting each other, and I don't want anyone to get really hurt..." Okay, so I just didn't know what to say. I felt defeated. Although everything I said was true.
Still this giggling continued. "You just have to think of something to get them to listen." Thanks for the advice, buddy.
So the teacher said she'll be in the room next week "to get the children to listen." But I have mixed feelings about that because, like I said, at this point it's less about the kids actually understanding what I "teach" and more about preventing the zoo-like behavior that results in something that resembles those fake jungle scenes from Mean Girls.
In hindsight, I feel like I was terrible to the kids this afternoon. I had no idea what to do and I got extremely angry. Visibly. I can't justify spending 45 minutes with a group of kids just watching them yell at each other, but I also can't justify doing the yelling as I did today. What I am teaching is not important enough for me to be screaming at kids to get them to listen to me, and definitely not important enough for the teachers to be beating them because they're disobeying during my 45 minutes with them. My true feelings at this point: thank goodness I have just one more week. I hate, hate, hate that I'm thinking this way.
I know that so many kids are loving it. Teachers, too. Especially with the older kids, this has been a really unique cultural exchange for us all. But I just can't stand the notion that I am making some of these kids feel scared or anything like that. On the other hand, kids that aren't scared just laugh in my face because they know I'm not going to hurt them physically. I always tell myself that I should just let the kids who want to goof off do so and address the ones who are paying attention. But it's so much easier said than done, and in the moment it just feels so strangely like one of those dreams where you're yelling for help and no one can hear you.
I think maybe we've all gotten what we needed out of this. I'll try to make the last week count, but I don't know.
I try every non-violent method I can think of to get them to listen. The peace sign has been worn out, and I've moved on to things like, "if you can hear me, clap twice" or other call-and-repeat tactics that the local teachers use. These kinds of things work for a minute, but pretty much everything I think of is rendered useless after the first time.
Today I brought some sticky notes in the shape of hearts and told students (in the last 5 minutes--I forgot about them before that) that they could earn one if they were respectful and listened. And they did listen--for about 60 seconds. Still, I awarded each of them a sticky note at the end of class. At least, I tried to. As soon as I gave the first two kids their prizes, dozens of others began swarming me. I had explained that everyone would receive one if they sat at their desks, and again tried to tell them that I couldn't keep track of who had one and who didn't if they weren't sitting down. No response. Maybe my explanation was too complicated, but then I couldn't think of any other way to tell them. And it's not like they could hear anything I was saying anyway because half the class was running around and screaming themselves. Immediately I started hearing, "Madame, he has stolen my own!" or "Madame, this boy has two!" from every corner of the room. There was more shouting and fighting. There were tears. And I was completely out of ideas and frustrated almost to the point of crying myself.
Of course, I want these kids to learn the songs I have to teach them, to learn something about the world, do the activities and have something tangible to show their parents/teachers (the drawing they have all theoretically done), or whatever. But at this point, that is not my concern at all. Aside from my own objectives in that regard, I don't want to do more harm than good. Sometimes I get so frustrated and angry that I find myself screaming at the top of my lungs to try and keep kids from running around, hitting each other, or whatever else they might be doing. If 6 kids are crying by the end of my 45 minutes with them, I am obviously incapable of being in the class as the sole authority figure. At the end of my second class 2 today, having spent the entire 45 minutes amidst complete and utter chaos with no other adult in sight, I decided to bring it up with the teacher. If I could find her.
I found her chatting with several other teachers (what were their 100-child classes doing at that moment?) and said something pretty stupid. But I was so angry. I walked up and said "I'm sorry, I really don't think I can come back to your class next week."
Another male teacher responds. "Why not?"
"I just...they really have no interest in listening to me." I wasn't sure how to put it politely, and without getting the class in trouble, which I knew would result in a beating. The male teacher laughed. I was on the verge of tears.
"Ah, yes. But you are the teacher. Are they understanding what you are saying to them?"
"I think so."
More laughing. "You just have to try."
At this point, I was livid. "I am trying. I have tried everything I can think of. I don't want to beat them. I won't beat them. But kids are crying and fighting each other, and I don't want anyone to get really hurt..." Okay, so I just didn't know what to say. I felt defeated. Although everything I said was true.
Still this giggling continued. "You just have to think of something to get them to listen." Thanks for the advice, buddy.
So the teacher said she'll be in the room next week "to get the children to listen." But I have mixed feelings about that because, like I said, at this point it's less about the kids actually understanding what I "teach" and more about preventing the zoo-like behavior that results in something that resembles those fake jungle scenes from Mean Girls.
In hindsight, I feel like I was terrible to the kids this afternoon. I had no idea what to do and I got extremely angry. Visibly. I can't justify spending 45 minutes with a group of kids just watching them yell at each other, but I also can't justify doing the yelling as I did today. What I am teaching is not important enough for me to be screaming at kids to get them to listen to me, and definitely not important enough for the teachers to be beating them because they're disobeying during my 45 minutes with them. My true feelings at this point: thank goodness I have just one more week. I hate, hate, hate that I'm thinking this way.
I know that so many kids are loving it. Teachers, too. Especially with the older kids, this has been a really unique cultural exchange for us all. But I just can't stand the notion that I am making some of these kids feel scared or anything like that. On the other hand, kids that aren't scared just laugh in my face because they know I'm not going to hurt them physically. I always tell myself that I should just let the kids who want to goof off do so and address the ones who are paying attention. But it's so much easier said than done, and in the moment it just feels so strangely like one of those dreams where you're yelling for help and no one can hear you.
I think maybe we've all gotten what we needed out of this. I'll try to make the last week count, but I don't know.
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