The neighborhood kids are fantastic. They run up to me after school with huge smiles, they wave and yell my name every time I walk by, they hang out at my house and play and dance. They just generally have a good time, all the time.
But it hit me today that many of them are going to die before their childhoods are over, and their friends will see this and move on. And so death will continue to be accepted as a very real part of life and everything else will continue to be less important.
Like school.
It's ridiculously difficult - in fact impossible - to keep kids from cheating on tests. I confiscated several cheat sheets, made everyone put all their belongings in the front of the class, had them leave while I checked for material left behind, collected the paper they were to use for the test, redistributed it, then gave points off for talking or looking at another paper. I excused four students for excessive cheating. One I had to give a red falta to just because he would not leave. I had to physically escort him out by holding his arms tightly but not painfully. I never threatened physical harm, but the line got blurry.
And in the other turma, I was going to give a quiz to, it never happened because they were too noisy.
So why all the discipline problems and cheating? I'm not quite sure why just yet, but large class sizes definitely have something to do with it. The more anonymous you can be, the more you feel you can get away with. And when you have to take quizzes and tests in very close proximity, it's very easy to cheat. Almost too tempting.
Even with all this cheating, there's very little studying. And the studying that is done is memorization. This is the way of the developing educational system - the system educates only the most motivated who then go on to improve the system they survived by teaching or administrating. It's a slow process, but the thought is that Peace Corps' presence can speed things up and increase the total quality of teaching. I tend to agree with this, but I think our real power lies in what we can do for the communities.
We have motivation, time and resources. I know I can accomplish a lot here, though I may view my accomplishments as minor. I know that every little bit helps and I believe strongly that if everyone found one (more) way they could aid society, that the world would be safer, healthier and happier - especially in America where prosperity (from a third world perspective) is very much taken for granted and creates a whole host of imagined problems (how do I get the kids to their soccer game after play rehearsal?, etc.) Maybe it's my naivete that makes me think it's possible to get under the skin of a culture and change it from the inside, but I believe strongly in social revolution. Why can't the "new business model" include optional community service as part of a 35-hour work week? Any worker could take a paid "service" day once every few weeks. And workers would only be allowed to work 35 hours with rare exception, changing the way in which people delegate and look at efficiency. And change more private schools to emphasize affordable education by phasing out the idea that tenure is necessary for the free exchange of ideas, and thus saving money from the salaries of professors who are tenured, but in name only. Then, more students can participate based upon merit and not inheritance.
And phase out defense spending, putting our money where our mouth is in terms of disarming weapons of mass destruction - our own. Then reallocating that money to start national health care programs ensuring that everyone is covered.
Especially the children.
Peace
John
Saturday, March 29, 2003
2/24/2003
I'm trying to start over with discipline - by this I mean that I'm trying the simple stuff again, in larger quantity, to see if it helps. In my first class today, I made about 6 kids stand and told about 3 more to leave. By the end, it was quiet. But does this turma learn? No, they don't get it.
And the material? They barely get it. The curriculum is hard because the students' background is insufficient. Tomorrow I give my first quizzes, so we'll see how that goes.
I still miss people tremendously. That hasn't changed, and I don't expect it to change. People I know back home can offer so much more than people here because of our commonalities and similarities.
A student asked me today about a medical problem. He has to pee every hour and drinks plenty of water. The urine isn't discolored and he's not in pain. Not really knowing what it could be (urinary tract infection?), I told him it didn't sound urgent, but that he should try and talk to a doctor at some point. Looking in my "Where there is no Doctor" book, it seems like his symptoms could be aligned with diabetes, which is rare to develop at about 22 years old, but not unheard of. I'll try and confirm other symptoms tomorrow, then let him know if he should go to the doctor. Sending someone to the hospital here is always tricky, but if he already has a preliminary layman's diagnosis, it could be beneficial. Of course, I don't know really what I'm talking about in regard to medicine, so I'm just trying to stay on the right side of the helping/harming line.
Peace
John
And the material? They barely get it. The curriculum is hard because the students' background is insufficient. Tomorrow I give my first quizzes, so we'll see how that goes.
I still miss people tremendously. That hasn't changed, and I don't expect it to change. People I know back home can offer so much more than people here because of our commonalities and similarities.
A student asked me today about a medical problem. He has to pee every hour and drinks plenty of water. The urine isn't discolored and he's not in pain. Not really knowing what it could be (urinary tract infection?), I told him it didn't sound urgent, but that he should try and talk to a doctor at some point. Looking in my "Where there is no Doctor" book, it seems like his symptoms could be aligned with diabetes, which is rare to develop at about 22 years old, but not unheard of. I'll try and confirm other symptoms tomorrow, then let him know if he should go to the doctor. Sending someone to the hospital here is always tricky, but if he already has a preliminary layman's diagnosis, it could be beneficial. Of course, I don't know really what I'm talking about in regard to medicine, so I'm just trying to stay on the right side of the helping/harming line.
Peace
John
2/23/2003
I'm on a chapa coming back from Maputo, getting some pamper therapy by staying in a hotel. It was nice, but I'm anxious to get back to site. I've been sitting in this chapa not going anywhere for about 1 1/4 hours now, reading and talking. Eh pa.
I went to a club last night with another volunteer, Monica, and a local whom we know. It was a club that rivals the nicest clubs in Cleveland - from the inside and from the clientele. It was quite bizarre to see so many European faces and then think of conditions at my site. The juxtaposition was so surreal that I had to keep reminding myself where I was. To some extent, we're really adjusted to life at site and we experience a fair amount of culture shock getting back into Maputo.
In order to help my understanding of the Portuguese that doesn't exist in books, I bought a rare-find book on "Mocambicanismos", or listerally, words that Mozambique uses not in conventional Portuguese. It's in Portuguese, so it will help my language all around. I'm hoping to translate the "definitions" into English for future Mozambican groups, as I think it can be extremely helpful. I've already seen lingo in the book I've been wondering about for some time, but have never gotten around to asking about.
In seeing a few other volunteers here over the past day, I was able to share what happened this week and we could trade discipline stories. It seems to be the same basic problems everywhere, as expected, save for the seemingly excessive hitting at my school. And being told by teachers that I should hit students does not seem to happen with others. I don't know how I can do something about this except by being a role model. This means I need to be careful with my discipline in the face of students who have no respect for me - and probably stop stooping down to silly and belittling discipline, however much it may seem to help. Of course, that leaves me in an even tighter situation than before, but since Laurenco agreed and volunteered to talk to disrespectful turmas for me, I do have another lifeline. Plus, he said he'll be watching some of my lessons soon, which is great for feedback but intimidating beyond belief.
Chapa tip #34:
If your driver is looking tired, and you're stuck in the chapa for one reason or another, insist he drink a nice cold Coke. I've never been so glad to see a sode in my life.
Peace
John
I went to a club last night with another volunteer, Monica, and a local whom we know. It was a club that rivals the nicest clubs in Cleveland - from the inside and from the clientele. It was quite bizarre to see so many European faces and then think of conditions at my site. The juxtaposition was so surreal that I had to keep reminding myself where I was. To some extent, we're really adjusted to life at site and we experience a fair amount of culture shock getting back into Maputo.
In order to help my understanding of the Portuguese that doesn't exist in books, I bought a rare-find book on "Mocambicanismos", or listerally, words that Mozambique uses not in conventional Portuguese. It's in Portuguese, so it will help my language all around. I'm hoping to translate the "definitions" into English for future Mozambican groups, as I think it can be extremely helpful. I've already seen lingo in the book I've been wondering about for some time, but have never gotten around to asking about.
In seeing a few other volunteers here over the past day, I was able to share what happened this week and we could trade discipline stories. It seems to be the same basic problems everywhere, as expected, save for the seemingly excessive hitting at my school. And being told by teachers that I should hit students does not seem to happen with others. I don't know how I can do something about this except by being a role model. This means I need to be careful with my discipline in the face of students who have no respect for me - and probably stop stooping down to silly and belittling discipline, however much it may seem to help. Of course, that leaves me in an even tighter situation than before, but since Laurenco agreed and volunteered to talk to disrespectful turmas for me, I do have another lifeline. Plus, he said he'll be watching some of my lessons soon, which is great for feedback but intimidating beyond belief.
Chapa tip #34:
If your driver is looking tired, and you're stuck in the chapa for one reason or another, insist he drink a nice cold Coke. I've never been so glad to see a sode in my life.
Peace
John
2/21/2003
We got a tremendous rainstorm last night replete with huge lightning and some minor flooding. I had to wade through a few inches of water on my way to and from class. It was worth it, though, as I had a good day. My Portuguese was really good, my comprehension was also right on, and my classes went fairly well.
The only exception to that last part was when one of the students would not be quiet or would be asking stupid questions all the time. So I covered the teacher's table with chalk dust and told him to sit on it or leave, knowing that he wanted very much to stay, but would shut up if he sat on the chalk, which he went ahead and did. Unfortunately, like most new discipline, made the class go hysterical. Another professor asked me to cut the noise out, to which I replied that I wanted th same thing. Still sucked that I couldn't control them.
I think I've figured something out about the educational system here. It's still young, and so the emphasis is on gaining information over understanding the underlying concepts. Which makes sense. If you have students who know the facts, they become teachers who can teach the facts and the students can then take the next step and find the underlying concepts.
Example. I say the chloroplast contains chlorophyll, and photosynthesis occurs in the chlorophyll. But when I ask what process occurs in chloroplasts, I get a lot of blank stares. Basically, I'm having to change how I teach and essentially WHAT I'm teaching, a whole lot.
Peace
John
The only exception to that last part was when one of the students would not be quiet or would be asking stupid questions all the time. So I covered the teacher's table with chalk dust and told him to sit on it or leave, knowing that he wanted very much to stay, but would shut up if he sat on the chalk, which he went ahead and did. Unfortunately, like most new discipline, made the class go hysterical. Another professor asked me to cut the noise out, to which I replied that I wanted th same thing. Still sucked that I couldn't control them.
I think I've figured something out about the educational system here. It's still young, and so the emphasis is on gaining information over understanding the underlying concepts. Which makes sense. If you have students who know the facts, they become teachers who can teach the facts and the students can then take the next step and find the underlying concepts.
Example. I say the chloroplast contains chlorophyll, and photosynthesis occurs in the chlorophyll. But when I ask what process occurs in chloroplasts, I get a lot of blank stares. Basically, I'm having to change how I teach and essentially WHAT I'm teaching, a whole lot.
Peace
John
2/20/2003
Today I talked with a student who was close to the murder - in fact, he almost got killed himself. Apparently the assailant swung the knife around behind him, narrowly missing this student and hitting victime in the hip with a very long knife. Seeing his general demeanor, the demeanor of those who helped carry the victim, and those who saw nearly nothing, it's easy to see that people are used to dealing with death as long as they don't see it. It's something else to laugh at when it's not their kin.
And seeing where they're coming from, I understand it pretty completely.
I played some volleyball with some of the students this afternoon. They have some interesting habits. The setter is permanent, but takes his serve and runs back into position. If a ball is going out, people will get it if they can, regardless of whether it's clearly out. This is because it's a pain in the ass to chase the ball, and what's the sense in being so overly competitive? Setting is always done from the center, the back line isn't really obeyed, feet are used as a third arm, and the spiking is pretty weak because there aren't that many tall players. Once I figured all that out, I had to go, but now I know for next time.
Peace
John
And seeing where they're coming from, I understand it pretty completely.
I played some volleyball with some of the students this afternoon. They have some interesting habits. The setter is permanent, but takes his serve and runs back into position. If a ball is going out, people will get it if they can, regardless of whether it's clearly out. This is because it's a pain in the ass to chase the ball, and what's the sense in being so overly competitive? Setting is always done from the center, the back line isn't really obeyed, feet are used as a third arm, and the spiking is pretty weak because there aren't that many tall players. Once I figured all that out, I had to go, but now I know for next time.
Peace
John
Friday, March 28, 2003
Foot & Mouth
A "live" update:
There´s a CNN story on Foot & Mouth disease outbreaks in parts of Mozambique. That is very close to where I am, but I have not heard anything yet either from PC or my school about precautions that I need to take. Which is to say everything´s fine and I´m aware of what´s going on!
Peace,
John
There´s a CNN story on Foot & Mouth disease outbreaks in parts of Mozambique. That is very close to where I am, but I have not heard anything yet either from PC or my school about precautions that I need to take. Which is to say everything´s fine and I´m aware of what´s going on!
Peace,
John
Thursday, March 27, 2003
2/19/2003
I showed up at school a little early today to see what the reaction would be. Students were gathered together, meaning that some meeting was going to happen.
I stood with Laurenco and another professor as Laurenco (my pedagogical director) explained what was going on. He spoke in very vague and delicate terms about the boy who died yesterday.
He was in my 2nd oldest turma, the first class I had to teach today. He died trying to subdue the boy who's currently in jail.
Laurenco went on to talk about the funeral and memorial service. We will have a service Saturday morning at 8 AM.
After he finished, a group of we teachers talked for a little but about his family and the incident in more specific terms. After about 20 minutes of the first class were gone, I walked into my first class, the turma that lost a member.
I didn't know for sure at the time that it was this turma - but it was quite obvious these students weren't acting like the rest. Though they see death every day - in some form or another - they were very definitely affected. I didn't know how to address the situation with them, but communication isn't all about words.
As usual, they stood to greet my, saying good afternoon. I responded likewise and, as usual, asked how they were doing. The automatic response is "We are doing well", but today there was an awkward silence and then mutterings of "We are doing badly" or "We are doing normally". Then they asked how I was (which isn't the status quo) and I started to give them a thumbs-up but changed it into a horizontally-waving hand meaning "so-so".
I could feel my eyes start to well up, but knew I couldn't afford to start crying in front of the class - for too many reasons.
I took a couple deep breaths, spoke very poor Portuguese to absolutely no laughter or comment, and started a very brief lesson. A few times during the lesson, my concentration slipped and I could feel the lump in my throat. I tried my best to keep things light, but realized I was just biding time.
I hope other professors took the time to talk about what happened - I think I'm going to try and talk with a couple kids from the class before lessons start tomorrow afternoon.
In college, I remember dealing with a few deaths - and how organized and open everything was.
Here? Well, it doesn't quite feel real because I'm not seeing all the typical signs of grief or trauma. Most of the kids seem completely unaffected and are joking about the whole thing.
So does that mean they are really in denial? From an American perspective, without a doubt. But from their culture, it almost seems like their method of grieving, to simply accept it as a part of their lives, especially when they aren't close to the victim.
And it's been confirmed that the boy was killed while trying to help out.
The killer apparently had walked into this professor's class earlier in the day, and not being a student at this school, the professor told him to leave - and violence might have been used at this point to make him leave. His actions were, as the rumor goes, in response to this violence.
I've had a couple light disciplinary incidents which would never fly in the States, but I thought I would share.
In one of my turmas, there is this abnormally short kid who's always giving me crap in one form or another. After one comment, I figured I'd really cut him down to size (pun intended), so I told him to come to the front of the room and feigning like I was going to do something else, I turned around with mock surprise and told the boy standing in front of me to "stand up".
The room literally erupted in laughter and it was all I could do to not join them. The kid walked back to his seat, almost completely unfazed. He continued being a pest the rest of the lesson, but toned down.
This may sound extraordinarily mean and silly, but to some extent it worked. I don't like myself very much for doing it, but I've got to raise the bar.
Today there was a boy and girl talking in the front of the room, across an aisle. They had already been causing trouble, so I basically had it in my mind that I was kicking them out, but I wanted to have some fun with them first. So I told the girl that she could sit with her "boyfriend". Then I got more specific and told her she had to sit on his lap. As I expected, she was reluctant to do so, so I told them they had the choice of leaving the classroom or doing it. Well, she sat on his lap to a fair amount of laughter. They were having a good time, too, pretty amazed that "teacher" was doing this. I then posed one stipulation that if they laughed, I'd tell them to leave. So I faked a couple times like I was going to start writing, then turned around, laughing hysterically at them for about two seconds to which they responded by, of course, laughing. So in the next breath, I told them to leave, completely straight-faced. The class laughed, but then shut up very nicely after about 10 seconds. The rest of the lesson went very smoothly, though I could still hear laughter from outside where the couple was telling their story.
Now THAT I'm proud of. Any time I can introduce fun discipline that does the trick ( the students returned for the next lesson and were very quiet throughout). I'm a happy camper. Especially when the kids need a good laugh.
Peace
John
I stood with Laurenco and another professor as Laurenco (my pedagogical director) explained what was going on. He spoke in very vague and delicate terms about the boy who died yesterday.
He was in my 2nd oldest turma, the first class I had to teach today. He died trying to subdue the boy who's currently in jail.
Laurenco went on to talk about the funeral and memorial service. We will have a service Saturday morning at 8 AM.
After he finished, a group of we teachers talked for a little but about his family and the incident in more specific terms. After about 20 minutes of the first class were gone, I walked into my first class, the turma that lost a member.
I didn't know for sure at the time that it was this turma - but it was quite obvious these students weren't acting like the rest. Though they see death every day - in some form or another - they were very definitely affected. I didn't know how to address the situation with them, but communication isn't all about words.
As usual, they stood to greet my, saying good afternoon. I responded likewise and, as usual, asked how they were doing. The automatic response is "We are doing well", but today there was an awkward silence and then mutterings of "We are doing badly" or "We are doing normally". Then they asked how I was (which isn't the status quo) and I started to give them a thumbs-up but changed it into a horizontally-waving hand meaning "so-so".
I could feel my eyes start to well up, but knew I couldn't afford to start crying in front of the class - for too many reasons.
I took a couple deep breaths, spoke very poor Portuguese to absolutely no laughter or comment, and started a very brief lesson. A few times during the lesson, my concentration slipped and I could feel the lump in my throat. I tried my best to keep things light, but realized I was just biding time.
I hope other professors took the time to talk about what happened - I think I'm going to try and talk with a couple kids from the class before lessons start tomorrow afternoon.
In college, I remember dealing with a few deaths - and how organized and open everything was.
Here? Well, it doesn't quite feel real because I'm not seeing all the typical signs of grief or trauma. Most of the kids seem completely unaffected and are joking about the whole thing.
So does that mean they are really in denial? From an American perspective, without a doubt. But from their culture, it almost seems like their method of grieving, to simply accept it as a part of their lives, especially when they aren't close to the victim.
And it's been confirmed that the boy was killed while trying to help out.
The killer apparently had walked into this professor's class earlier in the day, and not being a student at this school, the professor told him to leave - and violence might have been used at this point to make him leave. His actions were, as the rumor goes, in response to this violence.
I've had a couple light disciplinary incidents which would never fly in the States, but I thought I would share.
In one of my turmas, there is this abnormally short kid who's always giving me crap in one form or another. After one comment, I figured I'd really cut him down to size (pun intended), so I told him to come to the front of the room and feigning like I was going to do something else, I turned around with mock surprise and told the boy standing in front of me to "stand up".
The room literally erupted in laughter and it was all I could do to not join them. The kid walked back to his seat, almost completely unfazed. He continued being a pest the rest of the lesson, but toned down.
This may sound extraordinarily mean and silly, but to some extent it worked. I don't like myself very much for doing it, but I've got to raise the bar.
Today there was a boy and girl talking in the front of the room, across an aisle. They had already been causing trouble, so I basically had it in my mind that I was kicking them out, but I wanted to have some fun with them first. So I told the girl that she could sit with her "boyfriend". Then I got more specific and told her she had to sit on his lap. As I expected, she was reluctant to do so, so I told them they had the choice of leaving the classroom or doing it. Well, she sat on his lap to a fair amount of laughter. They were having a good time, too, pretty amazed that "teacher" was doing this. I then posed one stipulation that if they laughed, I'd tell them to leave. So I faked a couple times like I was going to start writing, then turned around, laughing hysterically at them for about two seconds to which they responded by, of course, laughing. So in the next breath, I told them to leave, completely straight-faced. The class laughed, but then shut up very nicely after about 10 seconds. The rest of the lesson went very smoothly, though I could still hear laughter from outside where the couple was telling their story.
Now THAT I'm proud of. Any time I can introduce fun discipline that does the trick ( the students returned for the next lesson and were very quiet throughout). I'm a happy camper. Especially when the kids need a good laugh.
Peace
John
2/18/2003
As this journal has become a part of my experience here in Mozambique, I often see during the day a moment that I'd like to capture in this journal for others and for myself.
This time, I think it's as much for me as it is for everyone else, to come to terms with what happened today - an event on the fringes of the nicely packaged "Peace Corps Experience" that so many people see my experiences as.
I was, more or less, a far too close witness of a murder today. I feel less safe tonight than I did this morning, but I don't feel in danger. If that were the case, I would not be writing from my house. Melodramatics aside, I don't know exactly how to write about this, but I'm going to give it a shot.
I was in the middle of my 5th period class this afternoon, my next-to-last class of the day, teaching about the endoplasmic reticulum, which is a part of the eukaryotic cell.
In midsentence, we all heard a loud crash of glass breaking followed by gasps - a familiar noise for me, as it seemed like someone had dropped a cup, a beaker, or some other object. What I didn't notice then was the lack of immediate laughter, which at school, is omnipresent. Regardless, I went into "take control of the situation even though you have no idea what's going on" mode.
I told the students to stay inside the room, and until I opened the door to see what was going on, they obeyed. Standing outside the door to the room next to mine, no more than 10 feet from where I had just been standing, was a teenaged boy with a broken bicycle chain, standing intensely by his work, a broken window of a door.
I thought that it was pretty strange, but was just a kid being a nuisance and vandalizing the school. My first instincts were to let other people take care of matters and try to calm him down - in Changana - but before I could figure out what to do, my students ran and grabbed him, pulling him away from the door and the professor who had been showered with broken glass but was unhurt. They seemed to have control of the situation, and other professors helped out.
I considered - very briefly - helping subdue the kid, but wisely thought better of it. No sense in being a "hero" where there's no such thing.
At that point, I figured it was best that I try and corral my kids - at the very least to reduce commotion and the prospect of a fight breaking out. I went back into the room, which is a fairly universal sign that the professor is ready, so you should be, too.
A couple students joined me, and I sat inside shooting the breeze with them. One came in and asked if I was afraid and I confidently said no - although I wasn't quite sure. Every so often, there were some screams and people running in one direction or another. It was obvious that the kid had freed himself and was threatening people with the chain.
I stepped outside to see what I could do to get my kids back inside and out of harm's way, but I saw that another group of people had formed around a downed bicycle and presumably the owner of the bicycle.
The kid was still free, and drawing an ever-growing crowd. I realized at this point that it was hopeless, but with my students being fairly jovial with each other and demonstrating curiosity more than anything else, that it wasn't anything to worry about. I did start to worry, though, when one student came over and asked me if I saw what happened.
Thinking I had, I said yes. He seemed to plead with me, in English, that someone was dying.
I started to ask questions of those around me and it seems that the kid who was on the bike was stabbed by the kid who broke the window. He was stabbed in the abdomen, from what I remember from anatomy in the general area of the liver or large intestine. I don't know what happened first, but juding by the screams, my best guess is that he brandished the knife while being held and stabbed someone to free himself.
I heard later that he, in fact, had too knives, generally known to be mentally unstable, and lives in my neighborhood.
A couple minutes later, students from my class were carrying the injured kid to a car to get him to the hospital. There was no obvious bleeding, but he wasn't in good shape.
A few minutes after this, the police got hold of the stabber and took him away.
Rumors immediately began to fly as to who this kid was and why he did what he did. The most accurate and believable one is that he was simply insane and decided to go on a rampage. Other rumors have to do with revenge for violence in the classroom by the professor whose door he shattered.
The fact that the rumors were there makes me wonder about students' true perceptions of violence in the classroom and its acceptance.
On the way to my Changana lesson tonight, no more than 2 1/2 hours after all of this, we learned that the victim had died. We weren't shocked, but that's when it hit me.
Some other students of mine cursed their race - saying that Africans are always killing each other. They asked if this ever happens in America, to which I could only respond, "All the time". They didn't believe me at first, but it was easy to see that what they at first thought was a reaction of "Those Africans..." on my part was actually, "Not here, too..." and seemed to understand.
The truth is, I don't understand.
Peace
John
This time, I think it's as much for me as it is for everyone else, to come to terms with what happened today - an event on the fringes of the nicely packaged "Peace Corps Experience" that so many people see my experiences as.
I was, more or less, a far too close witness of a murder today. I feel less safe tonight than I did this morning, but I don't feel in danger. If that were the case, I would not be writing from my house. Melodramatics aside, I don't know exactly how to write about this, but I'm going to give it a shot.
I was in the middle of my 5th period class this afternoon, my next-to-last class of the day, teaching about the endoplasmic reticulum, which is a part of the eukaryotic cell.
In midsentence, we all heard a loud crash of glass breaking followed by gasps - a familiar noise for me, as it seemed like someone had dropped a cup, a beaker, or some other object. What I didn't notice then was the lack of immediate laughter, which at school, is omnipresent. Regardless, I went into "take control of the situation even though you have no idea what's going on" mode.
I told the students to stay inside the room, and until I opened the door to see what was going on, they obeyed. Standing outside the door to the room next to mine, no more than 10 feet from where I had just been standing, was a teenaged boy with a broken bicycle chain, standing intensely by his work, a broken window of a door.
I thought that it was pretty strange, but was just a kid being a nuisance and vandalizing the school. My first instincts were to let other people take care of matters and try to calm him down - in Changana - but before I could figure out what to do, my students ran and grabbed him, pulling him away from the door and the professor who had been showered with broken glass but was unhurt. They seemed to have control of the situation, and other professors helped out.
I considered - very briefly - helping subdue the kid, but wisely thought better of it. No sense in being a "hero" where there's no such thing.
At that point, I figured it was best that I try and corral my kids - at the very least to reduce commotion and the prospect of a fight breaking out. I went back into the room, which is a fairly universal sign that the professor is ready, so you should be, too.
A couple students joined me, and I sat inside shooting the breeze with them. One came in and asked if I was afraid and I confidently said no - although I wasn't quite sure. Every so often, there were some screams and people running in one direction or another. It was obvious that the kid had freed himself and was threatening people with the chain.
I stepped outside to see what I could do to get my kids back inside and out of harm's way, but I saw that another group of people had formed around a downed bicycle and presumably the owner of the bicycle.
The kid was still free, and drawing an ever-growing crowd. I realized at this point that it was hopeless, but with my students being fairly jovial with each other and demonstrating curiosity more than anything else, that it wasn't anything to worry about. I did start to worry, though, when one student came over and asked me if I saw what happened.
Thinking I had, I said yes. He seemed to plead with me, in English, that someone was dying.
I started to ask questions of those around me and it seems that the kid who was on the bike was stabbed by the kid who broke the window. He was stabbed in the abdomen, from what I remember from anatomy in the general area of the liver or large intestine. I don't know what happened first, but juding by the screams, my best guess is that he brandished the knife while being held and stabbed someone to free himself.
I heard later that he, in fact, had too knives, generally known to be mentally unstable, and lives in my neighborhood.
A couple minutes later, students from my class were carrying the injured kid to a car to get him to the hospital. There was no obvious bleeding, but he wasn't in good shape.
A few minutes after this, the police got hold of the stabber and took him away.
Rumors immediately began to fly as to who this kid was and why he did what he did. The most accurate and believable one is that he was simply insane and decided to go on a rampage. Other rumors have to do with revenge for violence in the classroom by the professor whose door he shattered.
The fact that the rumors were there makes me wonder about students' true perceptions of violence in the classroom and its acceptance.
On the way to my Changana lesson tonight, no more than 2 1/2 hours after all of this, we learned that the victim had died. We weren't shocked, but that's when it hit me.
Some other students of mine cursed their race - saying that Africans are always killing each other. They asked if this ever happens in America, to which I could only respond, "All the time". They didn't believe me at first, but it was easy to see that what they at first thought was a reaction of "Those Africans..." on my part was actually, "Not here, too..." and seemed to understand.
The truth is, I don't understand.
Peace
John
2/17/2003
For the first time, I had three lessons in a row - with my two worst turmas - go off without a hitch. I was practically shocked that the kids were so quiet and respectful, yet participating a fair amount.
Most likely, it's just that it was the first classes on Monday, but it's possible that they're starting to respect me more, that they're getting tired earlier, that my lessons were just tremendously boring, or that another professor (or associate director) said something to them.
Before that, I had some excitement as I went for the fairly banal routine of getting my hair cut. Well, nothing here is truly banal yet, but I was thinking this would be a pretty standard occasion.
I think I mentioned what happened the last time I tried to get a haircut - with the girl and the pop. Well, this time I figured I'd suck it up and go alone, to show I wouldn't be scared off so easily.
Walking into the heart of the 2nd barrio, I feel like I'm in an urban neighborhood in the States. Not because of how it looks, but because of the people. People aren't accustomed to seeing white people - and aren't too accepting of mulungus - as they are in the saturated 1st barrio where I live. So I'll greet people to no response, and when I use Changana I'm received only marginally better.
So I walked around the dug out soccer field to where the barber shop...was. All I see is a pile of mud where there was fairly recently a functional barber shop. Not wanting to look lost and even more of a sore thumb, I continued on to Diamentino's place, where he told me that they'd moved.
What, was the rent too high?
Sorry, but it's just funny. There are a thousand reasons to move a business, and I'm not privy to the ones in this case.
So Diamentino takes me to the "new" place - also a mud hut, but I have to admit, nicer - and I proceed to get a haircut. No more than 10 minutes in, the power goes out.
This, as can be expected, happens quite often. It's inconvenient, however, when you're getting a haircut by electric razor. So I have a half-shorn head, sitting in a dark mud hut with the barber and Diamentino, confirming to passersby that the obvious has indeed happened and we don't have power.
About 30 minutes later, it returned and I got the quickest cut I've ever seen - at the end, he did a little touch-up work because he had been rushing to make sure we didn't get interrupted again.
The day started off well as I got a good E-mail, in a way. It really gave me a good perspective on how independent I need to be here, and more importantly, how strong a person I need to be.
Blake and I have been playing Ultimate quite often now with a bunch of neighborhood kids who are learning incredibly quickly. Unfortunately, they're too young to make for real competitive play, but I think we're doing some sort of service because we're positively occupying some of their free time.
The singing group changed times that they're meeting daily, which pisses me off but isn't completely unexpected. Of course, I shaped my schedule around leaving time to rehearse - but since there were other people who are busy as well, I should be able to make 1/2 of rehearsal every day. We'll see.
Well, I knew I'd be busy in no time, but I need to make sure I'm busy in ways that can eventually help other people. That's probably one of my biggest challenges at this point.
I realized the other day that it's been 6 months since I left Cleveland in a rented car packed full of every last thing, saying goodbye to the people I had grown so close to. I remember it clearly, and though I know everyone else hasn't changed that much, it still feels like it's been years since that moment. Well guys, I'm almost 1/4 of the way through this journey. By the time some of you are out to visit, I'll be 1/2 way through. And then before we know it, we'll be pigging out at Olive Garden, hiding bread sticks and extra pasta in all sorts of fun places.
And as wonderful as all that sounds, there's some hesitation to return to that life - not necessarily to keep living this one, but to try another fresh start somewhere that I can exact social change of some sort and use my language abilities. The more I think about it, the more I like Toronto. I can learn French and Greek...with Portuguese and English, I'll be all set. Yeah. And it gets cold there, too. Woo!
Peace
John
Most likely, it's just that it was the first classes on Monday, but it's possible that they're starting to respect me more, that they're getting tired earlier, that my lessons were just tremendously boring, or that another professor (or associate director) said something to them.
Before that, I had some excitement as I went for the fairly banal routine of getting my hair cut. Well, nothing here is truly banal yet, but I was thinking this would be a pretty standard occasion.
I think I mentioned what happened the last time I tried to get a haircut - with the girl and the pop. Well, this time I figured I'd suck it up and go alone, to show I wouldn't be scared off so easily.
Walking into the heart of the 2nd barrio, I feel like I'm in an urban neighborhood in the States. Not because of how it looks, but because of the people. People aren't accustomed to seeing white people - and aren't too accepting of mulungus - as they are in the saturated 1st barrio where I live. So I'll greet people to no response, and when I use Changana I'm received only marginally better.
So I walked around the dug out soccer field to where the barber shop...was. All I see is a pile of mud where there was fairly recently a functional barber shop. Not wanting to look lost and even more of a sore thumb, I continued on to Diamentino's place, where he told me that they'd moved.
What, was the rent too high?
Sorry, but it's just funny. There are a thousand reasons to move a business, and I'm not privy to the ones in this case.
So Diamentino takes me to the "new" place - also a mud hut, but I have to admit, nicer - and I proceed to get a haircut. No more than 10 minutes in, the power goes out.
This, as can be expected, happens quite often. It's inconvenient, however, when you're getting a haircut by electric razor. So I have a half-shorn head, sitting in a dark mud hut with the barber and Diamentino, confirming to passersby that the obvious has indeed happened and we don't have power.
About 30 minutes later, it returned and I got the quickest cut I've ever seen - at the end, he did a little touch-up work because he had been rushing to make sure we didn't get interrupted again.
The day started off well as I got a good E-mail, in a way. It really gave me a good perspective on how independent I need to be here, and more importantly, how strong a person I need to be.
Blake and I have been playing Ultimate quite often now with a bunch of neighborhood kids who are learning incredibly quickly. Unfortunately, they're too young to make for real competitive play, but I think we're doing some sort of service because we're positively occupying some of their free time.
The singing group changed times that they're meeting daily, which pisses me off but isn't completely unexpected. Of course, I shaped my schedule around leaving time to rehearse - but since there were other people who are busy as well, I should be able to make 1/2 of rehearsal every day. We'll see.
Well, I knew I'd be busy in no time, but I need to make sure I'm busy in ways that can eventually help other people. That's probably one of my biggest challenges at this point.
I realized the other day that it's been 6 months since I left Cleveland in a rented car packed full of every last thing, saying goodbye to the people I had grown so close to. I remember it clearly, and though I know everyone else hasn't changed that much, it still feels like it's been years since that moment. Well guys, I'm almost 1/4 of the way through this journey. By the time some of you are out to visit, I'll be 1/2 way through. And then before we know it, we'll be pigging out at Olive Garden, hiding bread sticks and extra pasta in all sorts of fun places.
And as wonderful as all that sounds, there's some hesitation to return to that life - not necessarily to keep living this one, but to try another fresh start somewhere that I can exact social change of some sort and use my language abilities. The more I think about it, the more I like Toronto. I can learn French and Greek...with Portuguese and English, I'll be all set. Yeah. And it gets cold there, too. Woo!
Peace
John
2/15/2003
I'm feeling better today, but there's still this feeling that the reality of the situation I'm in 24/7 is not quite happening and not quite happening for two years. But I'm still thinking about it as a day-by-day thing - because I'm still faced by many challenges every day which can be exasperating.
I bought cheese today for myself. See, Blake and his girlfriend left for another volunteer's site for a birthday/Valentine's Day party that I couldn't go to because I'm missing documentation that I'm legally in Mozambique. So I can't travel right now, but that's OK. I've got enough to do here.
Anyway, yeah, I bought cheese. It's a delicacy here and cost me as much as it probably would in the States. The one I could afford is "Gouda" but really just a mutt of cheeses and fits the bill for those of us who are used to consuming it on a regular basis. A cheese sandwich has never tasted so good.
It's surreal hearing everything that's going on in the world right now - the protests, the speeches from world leaders, the UN Security Council, Iraq...and seeing none of that here where the priorities cannot accommodate for something going on in what's practically another world.
We got about 30 minutes of rain tonight, the first rain in about 1 1/2 weeks. Neighbors are using our yard as extra farm land in exchange for keeping it clean and a little bit of the food. If I didn't think it would promote further use (abuse) of our land, I'd allow them to use it for free. There are no easy decisions here. I've probably said this, but it's so vitally true. Every decision has a much broader scope than what's being asked, so the decision is not simple.
Me tired. Me bed.
Peace
John
I bought cheese today for myself. See, Blake and his girlfriend left for another volunteer's site for a birthday/Valentine's Day party that I couldn't go to because I'm missing documentation that I'm legally in Mozambique. So I can't travel right now, but that's OK. I've got enough to do here.
Anyway, yeah, I bought cheese. It's a delicacy here and cost me as much as it probably would in the States. The one I could afford is "Gouda" but really just a mutt of cheeses and fits the bill for those of us who are used to consuming it on a regular basis. A cheese sandwich has never tasted so good.
It's surreal hearing everything that's going on in the world right now - the protests, the speeches from world leaders, the UN Security Council, Iraq...and seeing none of that here where the priorities cannot accommodate for something going on in what's practically another world.
We got about 30 minutes of rain tonight, the first rain in about 1 1/2 weeks. Neighbors are using our yard as extra farm land in exchange for keeping it clean and a little bit of the food. If I didn't think it would promote further use (abuse) of our land, I'd allow them to use it for free. There are no easy decisions here. I've probably said this, but it's so vitally true. Every decision has a much broader scope than what's being asked, so the decision is not simple.
Me tired. Me bed.
Peace
John
2/14/2003
Woo. Valentine's Day. Yay.
It's amazing to me how transparently obvious the structure of the brain can be in some ways, yet ridiculously mysterious in other ways.
I have immense trouble (which has caused me infinite problems) with remembering names of people and the days of the week, in Portuguese. But someone tells me a number (like a phone number) and I've got it memorized and it dances around in my head mocking the names I need to know and can't manage to keep in my brain.
The most frustrating part is that the names of the days of the week are numbers, and so I memorized them as a sequence of numbers. The later in the week I'm trying to reference, the longer it takes me to come up with the name. So even though the numbers aren't a problem, counting in Portuguese is. It's become so apparent that the math and language parts of my brain are so far away from each other they couldn't even begin to communicate!
I had a rough day today. Some of it had to do with it being Valentine's day. Some of it had to do with my students. Some of it had to do with other professors telling me I need to hit kids (one specifically said, her daughter). Some of it had to do with world politics. But it was mostly just a day that I needed to be in a rotten mood for, for no other reason than I felt like being down and homesick. For whatever reason, it sometimes feels good to feel bad.
Peace
John
It's amazing to me how transparently obvious the structure of the brain can be in some ways, yet ridiculously mysterious in other ways.
I have immense trouble (which has caused me infinite problems) with remembering names of people and the days of the week, in Portuguese. But someone tells me a number (like a phone number) and I've got it memorized and it dances around in my head mocking the names I need to know and can't manage to keep in my brain.
The most frustrating part is that the names of the days of the week are numbers, and so I memorized them as a sequence of numbers. The later in the week I'm trying to reference, the longer it takes me to come up with the name. So even though the numbers aren't a problem, counting in Portuguese is. It's become so apparent that the math and language parts of my brain are so far away from each other they couldn't even begin to communicate!
I had a rough day today. Some of it had to do with it being Valentine's day. Some of it had to do with my students. Some of it had to do with other professors telling me I need to hit kids (one specifically said, her daughter). Some of it had to do with world politics. But it was mostly just a day that I needed to be in a rotten mood for, for no other reason than I felt like being down and homesick. For whatever reason, it sometimes feels good to feel bad.
Peace
John
Wednesday, March 26, 2003
2/13/2003
Yikes, I automatically wrote the date (13.2.03) in the European style. It just makes more sense, I suppose.
Tomorrow, Hans Blix makes his report to the UN. It's rumored to be the day that Bush declares war on Iraq. We'll see.
Before my last class today, the youngest kids, another professor was teaching and ran a little bit over time. But I wasn't concerned about that. Rather, while sitting in an adjacent room, I heard sounds of hands slapping flesh followed by screams and raucous laughter. Talking with the other professors in the room, they confirmed and were proud of the beatings going on. The teacher hitting is one of the most highly respected teachers, and this is part of his reputation.
My lesson following his was quietly received - eerily so, considering that it was a group of my youngest kids. But they were scared - and relieved to see me, but didn't have the energy or desire to give me hell.
I had assigned them a TPC that I told them I was going to collect, but because they would just cheat and copy someone else's if they had the time, I told them they only had 2 minutes to hand it in - enough time to get it to me if it was prepared.
Well, some (many) complained at the end of the 2 minutes that it wasn't enough time, and followed me out of school, homework in hand. I idly threatened that I was going to hit them, but that was just to see if they would back off. After I said it, I wondered why the words came out of my mouth. I stopped the crowd, asked for a TPC (which was already being shoved into my face) and I ripped it up, throwing it on the ground. The girl whose homework it was, sprinted in the other direction, afraid I was going to make good on my threat.
Everyone else immediately left me alone.
I really dislike harsh discipline, but sometimes it's necessary. To trash a TPC is tough, because these kids don't have a lot of paper or time - but it got the point across.
Peace
John
Tomorrow, Hans Blix makes his report to the UN. It's rumored to be the day that Bush declares war on Iraq. We'll see.
Before my last class today, the youngest kids, another professor was teaching and ran a little bit over time. But I wasn't concerned about that. Rather, while sitting in an adjacent room, I heard sounds of hands slapping flesh followed by screams and raucous laughter. Talking with the other professors in the room, they confirmed and were proud of the beatings going on. The teacher hitting is one of the most highly respected teachers, and this is part of his reputation.
My lesson following his was quietly received - eerily so, considering that it was a group of my youngest kids. But they were scared - and relieved to see me, but didn't have the energy or desire to give me hell.
I had assigned them a TPC that I told them I was going to collect, but because they would just cheat and copy someone else's if they had the time, I told them they only had 2 minutes to hand it in - enough time to get it to me if it was prepared.
Well, some (many) complained at the end of the 2 minutes that it wasn't enough time, and followed me out of school, homework in hand. I idly threatened that I was going to hit them, but that was just to see if they would back off. After I said it, I wondered why the words came out of my mouth. I stopped the crowd, asked for a TPC (which was already being shoved into my face) and I ripped it up, throwing it on the ground. The girl whose homework it was, sprinted in the other direction, afraid I was going to make good on my threat.
Everyone else immediately left me alone.
I really dislike harsh discipline, but sometimes it's necessary. To trash a TPC is tough, because these kids don't have a lot of paper or time - but it got the point across.
Peace
John
2/12/2003
Discipline. It's eating up all of my creativity. I have to spend so much time and effort keeping the kids in order that it's a new challenge to come up with the best forms of discipline.
The standard thing I do is to tell someone to leave for 10 minutes or the rest of the period. But that's only if they're being incredibly disruptive to everyone else. I'll tell kids to stand up for an indefinite amount of time, stand against a wall in front of everyone, sit in a different place in the room, put their books on the floor (if they're doing work for another class), if they fall asleep I'll stomp the ground right next to them, if I'm asking a question and they're talking I'll make them answer the question (they'll say they don't know and I'll tell them it's because they were talking), or if they're being really obnoxious, I'll hand them my notes and tell them to teach. That last one is quite effective because the kids give them more crap than they do me, and it begins to be obvious to the student what I have to go through.
Basically, I try to keep my demeanor very calm and confident, even though I might not be. Some kids were speaking Changana in class while drawing some cells (speaking Changana is strictly forbidden) and so I stood directly in front of them so they couldn't see. They complained, then I told them that their not being able to see the board is like me not being able to understand what they're saying. I think they got it.
But even when my back is turned, I'm listening to who's talking and isolating exactly who it is by taking little peeks. It's a fun game, and it's fun to see their reactions when I walk right up to them after they thought they were being so anonymous. Sometimes I wait until I'm done writing something very long on the board, letting them talk, then I walk over, tell them to stand up and read what I just wrote out loud 5 times in a row. The theory is that they want to be talking, so I let them talk all they want - but in front of everyone.
Other ideas I'm kicking around include having them run laps around the school and sitting on the wall (hurts after a while). But I will NEVER lay a finger on them.
Peace
John
The standard thing I do is to tell someone to leave for 10 minutes or the rest of the period. But that's only if they're being incredibly disruptive to everyone else. I'll tell kids to stand up for an indefinite amount of time, stand against a wall in front of everyone, sit in a different place in the room, put their books on the floor (if they're doing work for another class), if they fall asleep I'll stomp the ground right next to them, if I'm asking a question and they're talking I'll make them answer the question (they'll say they don't know and I'll tell them it's because they were talking), or if they're being really obnoxious, I'll hand them my notes and tell them to teach. That last one is quite effective because the kids give them more crap than they do me, and it begins to be obvious to the student what I have to go through.
Basically, I try to keep my demeanor very calm and confident, even though I might not be. Some kids were speaking Changana in class while drawing some cells (speaking Changana is strictly forbidden) and so I stood directly in front of them so they couldn't see. They complained, then I told them that their not being able to see the board is like me not being able to understand what they're saying. I think they got it.
But even when my back is turned, I'm listening to who's talking and isolating exactly who it is by taking little peeks. It's a fun game, and it's fun to see their reactions when I walk right up to them after they thought they were being so anonymous. Sometimes I wait until I'm done writing something very long on the board, letting them talk, then I walk over, tell them to stand up and read what I just wrote out loud 5 times in a row. The theory is that they want to be talking, so I let them talk all they want - but in front of everyone.
Other ideas I'm kicking around include having them run laps around the school and sitting on the wall (hurts after a while). But I will NEVER lay a finger on them.
Peace
John
Tuesday, March 25, 2003
2/11/2003
It's still quite overwhelming to try and put every day in words, and descriptive enough to relay some vague idea of what every experience was like.
The school system here is divided into trimesters, which is new for this year. Per semester, there is a mandated number of ACSs (essentially quizzes that are at the teacher's discretion), and ACPs (like midterms or finals). In my school, we have 2 ACSs and 1 ACP per trimester. These three grades, weighed evenly between the total ACS and ACP grades, make up the trimesterly grade. So 9 grades make up the entire year.
I made the mistake of telling the kids to hand in their homework (TPC) on a fresh sheet of paper. Because they only usually hand in ACSs or ACPs, they thought this was an ACS and copied off each other, ran after me if I didn't get their TPC, and generally were more obnoxious than usual.
In one class, I told them I was leaving and did, even though many hadn't turned in homework. They chased me into my next class, insisting I take their papers, putting them on my desk. I swept them onto the floor to demonstrate that it was too late - but only later found out why they were so concerned.
Now, I am going to be counting their TPC towards their final grade, but nothing like an ACS. What bothered me is A) they actually thought I'd give an ACS that simple and unmanaged without much doubt, and b) that they cheated so openly and didn't seem to care when I saw it.
Obviously, I'm going to have to refresh them on the rules before I actually give an ACS or ACP.
On the flip side of things, I got an enumerated list of questions about HIV/AIDS from the class yesterday that I couldn't answer all the questions for. They are excellent questions, like getting HIV from oral sex, and if HIV can be contracted from sex if ejaculation occurs outside the female. The "chefe" of the turma took control and got this list together, so I think I'm going to see if he'd be interested in forming an HIV/AIDS awareness group for the 9th grade. He's got the curiosity and brains for it. I think he just needs a reason (extra credit) and a good source of information (theoretically, me).
I received a care package of sorts from Dirt Devil, incuding all sorts of great stuff - CDs, pens, paper, candy, DD paraphernalia (!), collapsible cones for playing Ultimate, and a noticeable lack of frisbees (somebody must have nabbed 'em en route). Getting this stuff has made the other North Americans in town very jealous. Rightfully so: I now have a PEZ dispenser!
Mental health update:
To be brutally honest, this job is f---ing hard. I don't say that about a lot of things. But adjusting to a young educational system that is structured very differently and places different, greater demands on teachers, without proper repercussions for poor behavior (I hear stories every day about kids being hit in class as an accepted method of discipline) and without resources considered essential in developed countries, and doing it all in a different language that the kids don't speak all that well, which makes topical confusions seem like lingual confusions and assigning even TPC a chore and a half to explain, is just plain hard and stressful.
Having kids laugh at you all day, not because you look funny, you do something funny or what you're teaching is funny - but because you're not a REAL threat to them compared with other teachers, parents, siblings, etc., because you speak the language differently (and not necessarily incorrectly), you don't speak their mother tongue, they really don't care that much about their grade anyway, and they just don't understand the material.
I have ways of blowing off stress and just relaxing, but I still get mentally exhausted from it all. I've never felt so...short...day in, day out before. I find myself taking lots of deep breaths, and trying to release my muscles, but it isn't easy.
And I can understand why they say the first three months are the hardest, not because you sit there the first day and say "Wow this is tough" but because you have these days quite often, and it doesn't feel like it will ever relent.
I already laugh at myself a lot, but I'm going to have to learn how to do it more.
Peace
John
The school system here is divided into trimesters, which is new for this year. Per semester, there is a mandated number of ACSs (essentially quizzes that are at the teacher's discretion), and ACPs (like midterms or finals). In my school, we have 2 ACSs and 1 ACP per trimester. These three grades, weighed evenly between the total ACS and ACP grades, make up the trimesterly grade. So 9 grades make up the entire year.
I made the mistake of telling the kids to hand in their homework (TPC) on a fresh sheet of paper. Because they only usually hand in ACSs or ACPs, they thought this was an ACS and copied off each other, ran after me if I didn't get their TPC, and generally were more obnoxious than usual.
In one class, I told them I was leaving and did, even though many hadn't turned in homework. They chased me into my next class, insisting I take their papers, putting them on my desk. I swept them onto the floor to demonstrate that it was too late - but only later found out why they were so concerned.
Now, I am going to be counting their TPC towards their final grade, but nothing like an ACS. What bothered me is A) they actually thought I'd give an ACS that simple and unmanaged without much doubt, and b) that they cheated so openly and didn't seem to care when I saw it.
Obviously, I'm going to have to refresh them on the rules before I actually give an ACS or ACP.
On the flip side of things, I got an enumerated list of questions about HIV/AIDS from the class yesterday that I couldn't answer all the questions for. They are excellent questions, like getting HIV from oral sex, and if HIV can be contracted from sex if ejaculation occurs outside the female. The "chefe" of the turma took control and got this list together, so I think I'm going to see if he'd be interested in forming an HIV/AIDS awareness group for the 9th grade. He's got the curiosity and brains for it. I think he just needs a reason (extra credit) and a good source of information (theoretically, me).
I received a care package of sorts from Dirt Devil, incuding all sorts of great stuff - CDs, pens, paper, candy, DD paraphernalia (!), collapsible cones for playing Ultimate, and a noticeable lack of frisbees (somebody must have nabbed 'em en route). Getting this stuff has made the other North Americans in town very jealous. Rightfully so: I now have a PEZ dispenser!
Mental health update:
To be brutally honest, this job is f---ing hard. I don't say that about a lot of things. But adjusting to a young educational system that is structured very differently and places different, greater demands on teachers, without proper repercussions for poor behavior (I hear stories every day about kids being hit in class as an accepted method of discipline) and without resources considered essential in developed countries, and doing it all in a different language that the kids don't speak all that well, which makes topical confusions seem like lingual confusions and assigning even TPC a chore and a half to explain, is just plain hard and stressful.
Having kids laugh at you all day, not because you look funny, you do something funny or what you're teaching is funny - but because you're not a REAL threat to them compared with other teachers, parents, siblings, etc., because you speak the language differently (and not necessarily incorrectly), you don't speak their mother tongue, they really don't care that much about their grade anyway, and they just don't understand the material.
I have ways of blowing off stress and just relaxing, but I still get mentally exhausted from it all. I've never felt so...short...day in, day out before. I find myself taking lots of deep breaths, and trying to release my muscles, but it isn't easy.
And I can understand why they say the first three months are the hardest, not because you sit there the first day and say "Wow this is tough" but because you have these days quite often, and it doesn't feel like it will ever relent.
I already laugh at myself a lot, but I'm going to have to learn how to do it more.
Peace
John
Monday, March 24, 2003
2/10/2003
I made pancakes this morning. Well, I started off making an omelette. Let me explain.
I make an omelette for myself every morning or so, and automatically went into the routine, breaking the eggs into a bowl - then realized Blake mentioned we should make pancakes this morning. So I just continued from there, in a backwards manner of making pancakes but they still tasted as good.
In any case, I meant to explain how the pancakes get made, and I'm not sure if I've written about this before, but here it goes.
Our stove has one burner that is always on (at least low power) when plugged in. But it's too hot to make pancakes on, and I hate to waste energy. So I put a pot of water on it and then a plate on top of that. When the pancakes are done from the other burner, I place them on the plate and cover them with a pot cover. It works just as well as keeping them warm with an oven, and I don't waste that energy.
The process going on with the other burner is a little more complicated. There are two frying pans, one that is more or less the size of the burner, and another that ismuch larger than the burner. The one that is much larger, makes 3 pancakes at a time, but they're hard to control because they're cooked unevenly, so I use the smaller one.
After pouring the batter to the size of the pan, I balance the batter out, usually less in the middle because the burner is inefficient in the middle and gets all gooey. So I slough off the excess uncooked batter when flipping - getting the uncooked batter to the hotter parts of the pan - and then wait a couple minutes, put down the flipper and show off. Because of the size of the pan, it's perfect for flipping the pancake without any utensils.
I haven't gotten to the point where I can flip it onto the plate, but I'm working on that part.
In class today, there was a huge praying mantis by the chalkboard. As is custom, one of the students started to erase the board for me, and tried to kick the praying mantis. He successed in injuring the animal, but it was still in pretty good shape. Wanting to show respect for another living thing, I got it to jump onto an open book and then took it outside. I got a few strange looks, but nobody really said anything to me. It almost seemed like they weren't sure what to think of this white guy being so concerned with one praying mantis while his country....well...someone openly told me the other day (in English) that they hate Americans, while reading about Bush's latest statements of belligerence. I can't go into what I said back to him, but I wasn't angry.
My mini-HIV/AIDS sessions are really getting quite interesting. Today, I introduced that there are 750 new infections every day in Mozambique, divided that number by the number of provinces (10), made a list of the largest cities in our province, and pointed out our city which is the 2nd largest. I then made the assumption that between 5 and 10 people in our city every day get HIV.
In my 2nd oldest turma, this started a flurry of great, interesting questions, for instance:
"What medicines can be used to prevent HIV infection?"
"Is it true that white people put diseases in the condoms?"
"We can find male condoms here, but I've never seen a female condom. Where can I find one?"
"If a man has sex with a dog, then another man with the same dog, can HIV pass from the first man to the second?"
"Where did AIDS begin?"
"What scientist first identified AIDS?"
"How long will a person with HIV live? With AIDS?"
Needless to say, I didn't know all the answers, especially how to explain them well in Portuguese, but I tried and also used some students to help me answer. We talked for some 15 minutes, cutting my lesson short but well worth it. And unlike usual, the kids weren't complaining that my lesson wasn't starting.
And I think I hit a turning point. Not only did I understand some tough questions, but when it was over, there were some who obviously weren't taking it seriously. Normally, this bothers me tremendously because I want everyone to be socially in tune. But today, I realized I made a tremendous impact on a handful of people, and that outshone by far the kids that just didn't seem to care.
Of course, those kids who don't care are the thorn in my side. But little by little I'm showing them that that won't cut it during my lessons. Today I had a pair of girls stand up and repeat, in tandem, a paragraph I had written on the board as part of my lesson. The others got pretty scared of talking for a while!
Peace
John
I make an omelette for myself every morning or so, and automatically went into the routine, breaking the eggs into a bowl - then realized Blake mentioned we should make pancakes this morning. So I just continued from there, in a backwards manner of making pancakes but they still tasted as good.
In any case, I meant to explain how the pancakes get made, and I'm not sure if I've written about this before, but here it goes.
Our stove has one burner that is always on (at least low power) when plugged in. But it's too hot to make pancakes on, and I hate to waste energy. So I put a pot of water on it and then a plate on top of that. When the pancakes are done from the other burner, I place them on the plate and cover them with a pot cover. It works just as well as keeping them warm with an oven, and I don't waste that energy.
The process going on with the other burner is a little more complicated. There are two frying pans, one that is more or less the size of the burner, and another that ismuch larger than the burner. The one that is much larger, makes 3 pancakes at a time, but they're hard to control because they're cooked unevenly, so I use the smaller one.
After pouring the batter to the size of the pan, I balance the batter out, usually less in the middle because the burner is inefficient in the middle and gets all gooey. So I slough off the excess uncooked batter when flipping - getting the uncooked batter to the hotter parts of the pan - and then wait a couple minutes, put down the flipper and show off. Because of the size of the pan, it's perfect for flipping the pancake without any utensils.
I haven't gotten to the point where I can flip it onto the plate, but I'm working on that part.
In class today, there was a huge praying mantis by the chalkboard. As is custom, one of the students started to erase the board for me, and tried to kick the praying mantis. He successed in injuring the animal, but it was still in pretty good shape. Wanting to show respect for another living thing, I got it to jump onto an open book and then took it outside. I got a few strange looks, but nobody really said anything to me. It almost seemed like they weren't sure what to think of this white guy being so concerned with one praying mantis while his country....well...someone openly told me the other day (in English) that they hate Americans, while reading about Bush's latest statements of belligerence. I can't go into what I said back to him, but I wasn't angry.
My mini-HIV/AIDS sessions are really getting quite interesting. Today, I introduced that there are 750 new infections every day in Mozambique, divided that number by the number of provinces (10), made a list of the largest cities in our province, and pointed out our city which is the 2nd largest. I then made the assumption that between 5 and 10 people in our city every day get HIV.
In my 2nd oldest turma, this started a flurry of great, interesting questions, for instance:
"What medicines can be used to prevent HIV infection?"
"Is it true that white people put diseases in the condoms?"
"We can find male condoms here, but I've never seen a female condom. Where can I find one?"
"If a man has sex with a dog, then another man with the same dog, can HIV pass from the first man to the second?"
"Where did AIDS begin?"
"What scientist first identified AIDS?"
"How long will a person with HIV live? With AIDS?"
Needless to say, I didn't know all the answers, especially how to explain them well in Portuguese, but I tried and also used some students to help me answer. We talked for some 15 minutes, cutting my lesson short but well worth it. And unlike usual, the kids weren't complaining that my lesson wasn't starting.
And I think I hit a turning point. Not only did I understand some tough questions, but when it was over, there were some who obviously weren't taking it seriously. Normally, this bothers me tremendously because I want everyone to be socially in tune. But today, I realized I made a tremendous impact on a handful of people, and that outshone by far the kids that just didn't seem to care.
Of course, those kids who don't care are the thorn in my side. But little by little I'm showing them that that won't cut it during my lessons. Today I had a pair of girls stand up and repeat, in tandem, a paragraph I had written on the board as part of my lesson. The others got pretty scared of talking for a while!
Peace
John
Sunday, March 02, 2003
1/31/03
First week of classes...check.
Played a 4 on 4 game of pickup ultimate after explaining the very basics, and was surprised with how quickly it was learned and how general soccer strategies translate well.
I'm tired. Long week. I promise longer journal entries later...
Peace
John
Played a 4 on 4 game of pickup ultimate after explaining the very basics, and was surprised with how quickly it was learned and how general soccer strategies translate well.
I'm tired. Long week. I promise longer journal entries later...
Peace
John
1/30/2003
In one of my classes today, I gave the first lesson, which tries to set the tone for the year: we're going to have fun stuff, but we have to be disciplined when we need to get things done. So I send them outside for 5 minutes to get "something that has smaller things that they can't see with the naked eye". I usually have to explain this a couple times, in different ways, but they get it and go outside. 90% of the objects are leaves or flowers (which makes me wonder what this lesson is doing to the trees around here), but the other 10% ends up being creative and sometimes way "outside the box".
Today, one student got up when I asked him to demonstrate his object, grabbed my water bottle and said that the microbes inside couldn't be seen. I was thoroughly impressed, but wanted to see how far I could push him. I told him that there certainly were not microbes in my water because it had been filtered. So he grabbed another water bottle from a student and held it up. I agreed that it had "microbes", but asked him to think harder and have him tell me what the microbes and plants had in common - but he was stumped. And in a triumph of "Boy stands up, girl knows the answer", a girl finally gave me "cells". For the most part, it's been girls getting the questions right and the boys trying miserably. But there seems to be one kiss-up boy in every class who tries to answer every other question and shush people. I guess it's pretty similar to the American system after all...here in my town at least.
Peace
John
Today, one student got up when I asked him to demonstrate his object, grabbed my water bottle and said that the microbes inside couldn't be seen. I was thoroughly impressed, but wanted to see how far I could push him. I told him that there certainly were not microbes in my water because it had been filtered. So he grabbed another water bottle from a student and held it up. I agreed that it had "microbes", but asked him to think harder and have him tell me what the microbes and plants had in common - but he was stumped. And in a triumph of "Boy stands up, girl knows the answer", a girl finally gave me "cells". For the most part, it's been girls getting the questions right and the boys trying miserably. But there seems to be one kiss-up boy in every class who tries to answer every other question and shush people. I guess it's pretty similar to the American system after all...here in my town at least.
Peace
John
1/29/2003
3:56 AM Alarm clock goes off on watch, wake up
3:58 AM Knock on Zach's door at hotel to watch State of the Union address
3:59 AM Go back to my room and fiddle around with the TV to watch State of the Union
4:45 AM Remain in a state of elation and skepticism about Bush's AIDS pledge for Africa
5:08 AM Start to watch State of the Union analysis, realizing how rhetorical the analysis is
6:29 AM Zach limps into my room and we head for breakfast, free at the hotel
6:35 AM Start eating. Breakfast cereal, juice, tea, fruit, cake, bread and butter
7:00 AM Still eating. Order omelette.
7:10 AM Receive omelette with minced garlic on the side, on a plate.
7:20 AM Check out. Circumlocute my Portuguese trying to do so.
7:30 AM Zach and I catch a taxi for the PC office
7:45 AM Given clean bill of health by PC. Nothing swimming around in me.
8:00 AM Get on chapa bound for the "Sun Coast"
8:20 AM Arrive at the "Sun Coast". Realize that I don't want to be there. At all.
8:40 AM Arrive at chapa stop I MEANT to be at.
9:00 AM Arrive at location where the chapas to C--- leave from. Board chapa. The fourth chapa of the day.
9:20 AM We leave.
9:32 AM My right butt cheek starts to be in intense pain due to squeezing 18 people in a 12-person van.
10:45AM Discover comfortable sitting position, dangling feet in door well.
10:47AM Temporarily lose chinela (flip-flop) in door well
11:30AM Pass baby from mother to a woman who doesn't have a random man practically on her lap
11:50AM Baby and mother are reunited. Baby and breast are reunited.
12:01PM Police officer boards chapa. For the ride
12:25PM Get off chapa and walk home quickly.
12:30PM Arrive at home, get things together for class, change. Try to improve general funk of body.
12:45PM First class starts. Don't have lesson plan due to being away. Wing it.
1:30PM Consider it "wung"
3:20PM Go to singing group. Start learning song in Changana.
4:15PM Return to giving lessons, my 4th and 5th of the afternoon.
4:55PM Throw two students out of room for talking.
5:05PM Students allowed to reenter room. Class is still unruly and anxious for their evenings to start early. Give universal teacher lecture that if they stay quiet, they'll get out quicker.
5:15PM Student talks so I'll kick him out. I make him stay. He shuts up.
6:00PM Arrive home, go back out to check mail.
6:10PM Arrive home again with mail. Entertain neighborhood kids.
8:00PM Cook and eat dinner.
8:30PM Clean.
9:03PM Breathe.
Peace
John
3:58 AM Knock on Zach's door at hotel to watch State of the Union address
3:59 AM Go back to my room and fiddle around with the TV to watch State of the Union
4:45 AM Remain in a state of elation and skepticism about Bush's AIDS pledge for Africa
5:08 AM Start to watch State of the Union analysis, realizing how rhetorical the analysis is
6:29 AM Zach limps into my room and we head for breakfast, free at the hotel
6:35 AM Start eating. Breakfast cereal, juice, tea, fruit, cake, bread and butter
7:00 AM Still eating. Order omelette.
7:10 AM Receive omelette with minced garlic on the side, on a plate.
7:20 AM Check out. Circumlocute my Portuguese trying to do so.
7:30 AM Zach and I catch a taxi for the PC office
7:45 AM Given clean bill of health by PC. Nothing swimming around in me.
8:00 AM Get on chapa bound for the "Sun Coast"
8:20 AM Arrive at the "Sun Coast". Realize that I don't want to be there. At all.
8:40 AM Arrive at chapa stop I MEANT to be at.
9:00 AM Arrive at location where the chapas to C--- leave from. Board chapa. The fourth chapa of the day.
9:20 AM We leave.
9:32 AM My right butt cheek starts to be in intense pain due to squeezing 18 people in a 12-person van.
10:45AM Discover comfortable sitting position, dangling feet in door well.
10:47AM Temporarily lose chinela (flip-flop) in door well
11:30AM Pass baby from mother to a woman who doesn't have a random man practically on her lap
11:50AM Baby and mother are reunited. Baby and breast are reunited.
12:01PM Police officer boards chapa. For the ride
12:25PM Get off chapa and walk home quickly.
12:30PM Arrive at home, get things together for class, change. Try to improve general funk of body.
12:45PM First class starts. Don't have lesson plan due to being away. Wing it.
1:30PM Consider it "wung"
3:20PM Go to singing group. Start learning song in Changana.
4:15PM Return to giving lessons, my 4th and 5th of the afternoon.
4:55PM Throw two students out of room for talking.
5:05PM Students allowed to reenter room. Class is still unruly and anxious for their evenings to start early. Give universal teacher lecture that if they stay quiet, they'll get out quicker.
5:15PM Student talks so I'll kick him out. I make him stay. He shuts up.
6:00PM Arrive home, go back out to check mail.
6:10PM Arrive home again with mail. Entertain neighborhood kids.
8:00PM Cook and eat dinner.
8:30PM Clean.
9:03PM Breathe.
Peace
John
1/28/2003
I just missed the second day of classes because of a fever that could have possibly been malarial - so I headed down to Maputo and now I'm in a hotel room watching TV. It's weird. But I'm glad they're being cautious...
I'm planning on watching the State of the Union tonight at 4AM with Zach who's also in town. Should be interesting!
Peace
John
I'm planning on watching the State of the Union tonight at 4AM with Zach who's also in town. Should be interesting!
Peace
John
1/27/2003
My first day of classes, real classes.
And it's much like I thought it would be, except that my shoes hurt a lot. See, I got new shoes and I'm breaking them in still. I've got cuts on my feet, aggravated by the still-stiff shoes.
I'm writing about banal things because I can't write about what's weighing on me, and it's purely political. I'm constantly reminded of "The Gulf War Song" by Moxy Fruvous. I wish they would get back together, come to Mozambique and perform in Portuguese. hehe.
I got that out of my system...but now I'm tapped. Estemos juntos ("we are together", an African goodbye).
Peace
John
And it's much like I thought it would be, except that my shoes hurt a lot. See, I got new shoes and I'm breaking them in still. I've got cuts on my feet, aggravated by the still-stiff shoes.
I'm writing about banal things because I can't write about what's weighing on me, and it's purely political. I'm constantly reminded of "The Gulf War Song" by Moxy Fruvous. I wish they would get back together, come to Mozambique and perform in Portuguese. hehe.
I got that out of my system...but now I'm tapped. Estemos juntos ("we are together", an African goodbye).
Peace
John
12/14/2002
We swear in today.
I wonder what all of our lives will be like in two years, when we're all done (or extending) and have the experience behind us? I have the feeling I'm going to be a mix of proud and scared, but excited.
My host mom just woke up, said that I had gotten up early (it's 6 AM on a Saturday) and complained about being tired. I think the family always thinks that they need to be up when I am, but I'm not going to make that generalization for all the host families.
Even on this last morning, I'm still treated as a guest. This is understandable, as I don't act like a normal 24 year old member of a Mozambican household (and I sure as hell don't look like one), but you would think after 10 weeks they'd stop being surprised that I can pour my own bath!
I suppose novelty is something Americans are very used to, and it wears off quickly. Here, however, my presence will always be viewed through differently colored glasses. Unless I manage to integrate seamlessly, but I can't imagine how much of my own identity I would have to sacrifice for that to happen.
We're going to make a promise today to help the people of Mozambique, so whatever hoops I have to jump through, however I'm viewed when I do it, I and everyone else here want to help as much as possible.
I look forward to visiting the other volunteers, the people in B----, my host family, and other volunteers in Africa that I know from my past life.
But it's still all very intimidating, knowing I'm going to be dropped off in a town I've only spent a couple days in, having to rely upon my Portuguese for most everything, and trying to carve a niche out for myself in a town that's seen a few Americans.
I'm ready.
Peace
John
I wonder what all of our lives will be like in two years, when we're all done (or extending) and have the experience behind us? I have the feeling I'm going to be a mix of proud and scared, but excited.
My host mom just woke up, said that I had gotten up early (it's 6 AM on a Saturday) and complained about being tired. I think the family always thinks that they need to be up when I am, but I'm not going to make that generalization for all the host families.
Even on this last morning, I'm still treated as a guest. This is understandable, as I don't act like a normal 24 year old member of a Mozambican household (and I sure as hell don't look like one), but you would think after 10 weeks they'd stop being surprised that I can pour my own bath!
I suppose novelty is something Americans are very used to, and it wears off quickly. Here, however, my presence will always be viewed through differently colored glasses. Unless I manage to integrate seamlessly, but I can't imagine how much of my own identity I would have to sacrifice for that to happen.
We're going to make a promise today to help the people of Mozambique, so whatever hoops I have to jump through, however I'm viewed when I do it, I and everyone else here want to help as much as possible.
I look forward to visiting the other volunteers, the people in B----, my host family, and other volunteers in Africa that I know from my past life.
But it's still all very intimidating, knowing I'm going to be dropped off in a town I've only spent a couple days in, having to rely upon my Portuguese for most everything, and trying to carve a niche out for myself in a town that's seen a few Americans.
I'm ready.
Peace
John
12/13/2002
This is my last day in B---. It's been an up and down time, but I'm ready to move on and actually do the work I signed up to do.
It is a sad day, because we're having to say goodbye to everyone and this life which we just started to hesitantly get used to. I think we've all tried to keep from getting attached as much as possible.
I'm currently watching a group of kids sledding. Yes, sledding. They're using half of a 20-liter jug as the sled. The hill is an irrigation canal, the snow is red dirt, and the novelty is exactly the same.
Peace
John
It is a sad day, because we're having to say goodbye to everyone and this life which we just started to hesitantly get used to. I think we've all tried to keep from getting attached as much as possible.
I'm currently watching a group of kids sledding. Yes, sledding. They're using half of a 20-liter jug as the sled. The hill is an irrigation canal, the snow is red dirt, and the novelty is exactly the same.
Peace
John
12/12/2002
You can speak in grunts here.
It's strange to look at an old picture of yourself and try to comprehend that this person was you.
I have a picture from the mid-80's sometime of me in a silly pose (surprise!) I had pulled it out for a "yearbook" of sorts that Jeff, Suzy and Cherie are putting together. I just stared at it, trying to comprehend how the memories I have of being that age really happened.
It just doesn't seem real that I was that young, and whenever I tell a story about anything from that time, it always feels to me like I'm telling it in the third person. It's almost like there's a statue of limitations on personal memories.
And it's even stranger now, that I'm halfway across the world. Thinking that back then, I could never imagine myself in 15 years - doing anything, really. A year would have been hard to handle foreseeing.
Yet, in this picture, there's some knowledge that seems to be behind my eyes, like everything is going to work out, and if things start to fall apart, just be silly. It's amazing to me how that really hasn't changed in 15 years.
And then I try to apply this thinking to the children here. They don't really think about the future here, because it's just too uncertain.
In the States, you can ask "What do you want to be when you grow up?" and get some pretty lofty answers all around.
To ask the same question here, it wouldn't make any sense. First of all, you would have to explain "grown up" - and "adult". Is it a set age? Is it when you get married? Is it when you have children? Secondly, most would respond that they would continue to either work on the farm or do whatever their parents do.
This is not to say that this is a bad response - it's really much more realistic than ours. Even though we CAN become astronauts and presidents, the aspiration for such careers can totally devastate some people. If you have realistic goals, you don't suffer disappointment, but you also don't have chance to do something bigger.
So what's better? Idealism or realism? Or does it depend on the availability of work? Should we promote dreaming about careers 99% of the people could never have? Or simply improve the quality of life of those who know what they're going to do for the rest of their lives?
Peace
John
It's strange to look at an old picture of yourself and try to comprehend that this person was you.
I have a picture from the mid-80's sometime of me in a silly pose (surprise!) I had pulled it out for a "yearbook" of sorts that Jeff, Suzy and Cherie are putting together. I just stared at it, trying to comprehend how the memories I have of being that age really happened.
It just doesn't seem real that I was that young, and whenever I tell a story about anything from that time, it always feels to me like I'm telling it in the third person. It's almost like there's a statue of limitations on personal memories.
And it's even stranger now, that I'm halfway across the world. Thinking that back then, I could never imagine myself in 15 years - doing anything, really. A year would have been hard to handle foreseeing.
Yet, in this picture, there's some knowledge that seems to be behind my eyes, like everything is going to work out, and if things start to fall apart, just be silly. It's amazing to me how that really hasn't changed in 15 years.
And then I try to apply this thinking to the children here. They don't really think about the future here, because it's just too uncertain.
In the States, you can ask "What do you want to be when you grow up?" and get some pretty lofty answers all around.
To ask the same question here, it wouldn't make any sense. First of all, you would have to explain "grown up" - and "adult". Is it a set age? Is it when you get married? Is it when you have children? Secondly, most would respond that they would continue to either work on the farm or do whatever their parents do.
This is not to say that this is a bad response - it's really much more realistic than ours. Even though we CAN become astronauts and presidents, the aspiration for such careers can totally devastate some people. If you have realistic goals, you don't suffer disappointment, but you also don't have chance to do something bigger.
So what's better? Idealism or realism? Or does it depend on the availability of work? Should we promote dreaming about careers 99% of the people could never have? Or simply improve the quality of life of those who know what they're going to do for the rest of their lives?
Peace
John
12/11/2002
It's hard today to distill my mix of emotions down to a couple that I can write about. And it's not because today was an emotional day, necessarily, but because all of us are inching closer to having to say goodbye to a lot of people for at least 4 months. And these will be the hardest 4 months of our service, possibly of our lives up to this point.
Mainly, it's facing the fact that we're coming from a ridiculously structured environment and we'll inevitably end up in situations we could have never predicted.
And we all miss people from home.
I took a bunch of pictures the past couple days, and they should turn out really nice. I anticipate having some record of the things I've been talking about. Hopefully, I'll be able to either send them home or scan them in, to share.
Ironically, as I'm getting ready to start classes and settling in, I'm thinking about what I can do in 2 years for my town and what I can accomplish afterwards. It almost seems that my future goals are more clear than my immediate ones, which is scary but then I have a scope for my current goals.
Mainly, I want to maintain my old relationships while creating new ones. Unfortunately, this means sacrificing some of both - which I'm not sure I like just yet. I've got time to think about it.
Peace
John
Mainly, it's facing the fact that we're coming from a ridiculously structured environment and we'll inevitably end up in situations we could have never predicted.
And we all miss people from home.
I took a bunch of pictures the past couple days, and they should turn out really nice. I anticipate having some record of the things I've been talking about. Hopefully, I'll be able to either send them home or scan them in, to share.
Ironically, as I'm getting ready to start classes and settling in, I'm thinking about what I can do in 2 years for my town and what I can accomplish afterwards. It almost seems that my future goals are more clear than my immediate ones, which is scary but then I have a scope for my current goals.
Mainly, I want to maintain my old relationships while creating new ones. Unfortunately, this means sacrificing some of both - which I'm not sure I like just yet. I've got time to think about it.
Peace
John
12/10/2002
I got my first Mozambican-made shirt today. It has a Zulu icon on it, and it's pretty loud. It's funny to see and hear people's reactions, as they really want to compliment me, but the color scheme is just not...quiet. It's not "Africa" in the American mindset. But I like it. I love loud, outspoken clothing.
I discussed writing styles with Denny and Rebecca today. It seems that I actually do have a writing style that differs from many other peoples' - of course, they do as well.
There is palpable excitement in the air about being delivered to our sites. It's of course mixed with some sentiment towards our fellow trainees about not seeing them for 3 or 4 months, but that's to be expected.
I'm getting more excited about C--- as I hammer out the details and plan out what I'm going to do my first week there. I feel like I need to do everything the first couple days in terms of logistics (bank accounts, PO Box, etc.), then concentrate on my living space, routines, dishes, laundry, and all the other necessities. Of course, I have no idea how this is actually going to go, because I plan on spending a lot of time building relationships and differentiating myself from previous volunteers. It's not simply enough to go into the post office and get a PO box, but I need to be making friends with the people there so that I get all of my mail.
This is a reality in developing countries: the services we take for granted in the States are just not regulated here, simply because there are better things to be putting effort into. So the way things work is the same way people work - this person is nice to me, I'll go the extra mile for them; this other person was mean to me, I'll forget about their package.
In my opinion, I think this system is better than ours in a couple ways. First, it promotes people building relationships with everyone and supporting the whole community; secondly, it forces people to slow down and realize that if they take their time and do something correctly, it is more beneficial in the end.
I've been doing a fair amount of thinking about what I want to do after two years are done. Exactly what I've been thinking is for me alone, but it definitely involves returning to the States while keeping one foot here. We'll see if I still feel like Mozambique needs me this time 2004.
Peace
John
I discussed writing styles with Denny and Rebecca today. It seems that I actually do have a writing style that differs from many other peoples' - of course, they do as well.
There is palpable excitement in the air about being delivered to our sites. It's of course mixed with some sentiment towards our fellow trainees about not seeing them for 3 or 4 months, but that's to be expected.
I'm getting more excited about C--- as I hammer out the details and plan out what I'm going to do my first week there. I feel like I need to do everything the first couple days in terms of logistics (bank accounts, PO Box, etc.), then concentrate on my living space, routines, dishes, laundry, and all the other necessities. Of course, I have no idea how this is actually going to go, because I plan on spending a lot of time building relationships and differentiating myself from previous volunteers. It's not simply enough to go into the post office and get a PO box, but I need to be making friends with the people there so that I get all of my mail.
This is a reality in developing countries: the services we take for granted in the States are just not regulated here, simply because there are better things to be putting effort into. So the way things work is the same way people work - this person is nice to me, I'll go the extra mile for them; this other person was mean to me, I'll forget about their package.
In my opinion, I think this system is better than ours in a couple ways. First, it promotes people building relationships with everyone and supporting the whole community; secondly, it forces people to slow down and realize that if they take their time and do something correctly, it is more beneficial in the end.
I've been doing a fair amount of thinking about what I want to do after two years are done. Exactly what I've been thinking is for me alone, but it definitely involves returning to the States while keeping one foot here. We'll see if I still feel like Mozambique needs me this time 2004.
Peace
John
12/9/2002
I really started to feel comfortable and accepted today. And it scared me.
I know that I'll have to do it all over again when I get to C---, but it's a nice feeling, being able to walk around and feel secure at night.
However, this feeling seems to be mutually exclusive with missing people. I found that the more I integrate into the community, the less lonely I feel and the less I miss my friends from back home.
However, I haven't been able to communicate very much lately, so it could also be a product of the relative silence.
I had a cultural breakthrough today. After having a very frustrating language class, during which we went over the tests we took, which were "misunderstood" by almost all of us when it come to comprehension, I came home and had a nice discussion with Sr. B.
The conversation came to beggars at the market, after I brought up terms of respect for elders. Most of the beggars tend to be elders, so it's hard to draw a distinction between who you respect and who is truly a beggar.
They are always asking for pao (bread), so I retorted that we have a phrase, from all over the world, "Give a man a fish..." and so on. Well, Sr. B finished the maxim for me, roughly the same. It was great to hear such a universal truth halfway across the world.
Apparently, there's a way to get books and other supplies to Mozambique with the help of PC. If you go to peacecorps.gov and look for something like "gifts in kind" or just about sending books over, you should find more info.
Peace
John
I know that I'll have to do it all over again when I get to C---, but it's a nice feeling, being able to walk around and feel secure at night.
However, this feeling seems to be mutually exclusive with missing people. I found that the more I integrate into the community, the less lonely I feel and the less I miss my friends from back home.
However, I haven't been able to communicate very much lately, so it could also be a product of the relative silence.
I had a cultural breakthrough today. After having a very frustrating language class, during which we went over the tests we took, which were "misunderstood" by almost all of us when it come to comprehension, I came home and had a nice discussion with Sr. B.
The conversation came to beggars at the market, after I brought up terms of respect for elders. Most of the beggars tend to be elders, so it's hard to draw a distinction between who you respect and who is truly a beggar.
They are always asking for pao (bread), so I retorted that we have a phrase, from all over the world, "Give a man a fish..." and so on. Well, Sr. B finished the maxim for me, roughly the same. It was great to hear such a universal truth halfway across the world.
Apparently, there's a way to get books and other supplies to Mozambique with the help of PC. If you go to peacecorps.gov and look for something like "gifts in kind" or just about sending books over, you should find more info.
Peace
John
12/2/2002
Poetic justice has arrived.
I shouldn't have written something so corny about 3 ducks. I knew it would come back to bite me eventually. I just didn't know it would be so soon.
As I found out last night, there was a robbery Saturday night. A man went to our neighbor's house, knocked on the window to see if it was open, then proceeded to our other neighbor's house. Finding nothing but locked windows, he opened his rice sack and...
Stole the 3 ducks.
I had grown attached to them, saying "hi" every morning, watching them stick together no matter what. As I wrote, it was very nice and heartwarming.
I even tried a somewhat scientific experiment with them. They were all walking through our backyard, just poking along for food. One of them wandered about 5 feet away from the two others. I wanted to see what they would do when they were separated, so I stood between them like this:
Duck John Duck
Duck
I kept moving so I was between them at all times, every time they tried one side or the other. They maintained a steady distance of about 6 or 7 feet from me - I suppose that was their "personal" space. After about a minute of fruitless rendezvousing, they started clucking at each other, in tones I hadn't heard before. It was apparent they were starting to panic, and I had had enough of the experiment. So I walked out from the middle and they cautiously but expeditiously met up and reintroduced themselves. It reaffirmed my faith that this was a strong, loving family.
The damned thief ate them.
At least they were together.
Peace
John
I shouldn't have written something so corny about 3 ducks. I knew it would come back to bite me eventually. I just didn't know it would be so soon.
As I found out last night, there was a robbery Saturday night. A man went to our neighbor's house, knocked on the window to see if it was open, then proceeded to our other neighbor's house. Finding nothing but locked windows, he opened his rice sack and...
Stole the 3 ducks.
I had grown attached to them, saying "hi" every morning, watching them stick together no matter what. As I wrote, it was very nice and heartwarming.
I even tried a somewhat scientific experiment with them. They were all walking through our backyard, just poking along for food. One of them wandered about 5 feet away from the two others. I wanted to see what they would do when they were separated, so I stood between them like this:
Duck John Duck
Duck
I kept moving so I was between them at all times, every time they tried one side or the other. They maintained a steady distance of about 6 or 7 feet from me - I suppose that was their "personal" space. After about a minute of fruitless rendezvousing, they started clucking at each other, in tones I hadn't heard before. It was apparent they were starting to panic, and I had had enough of the experiment. So I walked out from the middle and they cautiously but expeditiously met up and reintroduced themselves. It reaffirmed my faith that this was a strong, loving family.
The damned thief ate them.
At least they were together.
Peace
John
11/30/2002
We're celebrating Thanksgiving today by...not finishing our journal entry. Sorry, now it's
11/30 or 12/1/02 (duh!)
And I just got back from our sleepover post-Thanksgiving dinner. Thanksgiving dinner went very well, and my stuffing actually worked. Of course, now I only know how to make stuffing Mozambican style, but I think I can adapt my knowledge :)
We made a ton of food, and I feel kinda bad making so much and having so much left over, regardless of whether it eventually got eaten. It just felt like we were flaunting our riches, and not really making very much of an effort to adapt - but at the same time, it was a nice way to celebrate a major holiday as we ate together with the entire staff including the kitchen staff.
I've started being able to deal with missing people - not necessarily miss them any less, but just find a place to put it. What I have more trouble with, however, is missing peoples' crises. I'm someone who likes to be available in times of need, and that's just not possible here. It defines many of my relationships, too, so I think that will change how my friendships evolve over the next couple years.
This next Friday, we find out our sites. The Saturday after (2 weeks from now), we get sworn in - hopefully all of us will make it! It would be great to have 36 of us all become volunteers at the same time - I really can't wait!
As much as I enjoy being in B---, it gets a little stifling. I'm not sure if that's just because of my host family, or it's the town in general, but most of us can't wait to leave.
There are two spots for English teachers here in B---. The word from the English teachers is that nobody really wants to go, but a couple people might be OK dealing with it. Hopefully, nobody will leave over site placement - it's pretty sensitive, and I know PC puts a pretty big effort into it. Our opinion doesn't count that much, but that's just because we don't know what we're really getting ourselves into. I wouldn't feel as good about it if I had total say over where I was going.
Plus, I came here to help people, no matter where that takes me.
I got a tape of the radio broadcast of my website. It came in a package with an artificial Xmas tree from my dad. Wow! It's already up in the house here, decorated. What a surprise!
Anyway, I heard the radio broadcast and the commentary was quite interesting. They referred to me as being very naive, and it's interesting to watch my naivete being lost over here.
I didn't quite know how to take that - for an American, I don't know that I'm naive to the rest of the world. I think I had a pretty good understanding, relatively speaking, of how the world works.
I suppose my idealism sometimes translates as being innocence - but I hold on to my idealism in the face of people who tell me I can't do certain things.
Of course, when I in fact discover that a certain thing cannot be done after all, I have a tendency to then tell other people they can't do it. So I'm not all idealist :) I'd like to fix that part of me.
Anyway, I think that I'm probably naive to the ways of the world from an Australian point of view, because Americans are so much more insular. So that's how I'm looking at it!
Peace
John
11/30 or 12/1/02 (duh!)
And I just got back from our sleepover post-Thanksgiving dinner. Thanksgiving dinner went very well, and my stuffing actually worked. Of course, now I only know how to make stuffing Mozambican style, but I think I can adapt my knowledge :)
We made a ton of food, and I feel kinda bad making so much and having so much left over, regardless of whether it eventually got eaten. It just felt like we were flaunting our riches, and not really making very much of an effort to adapt - but at the same time, it was a nice way to celebrate a major holiday as we ate together with the entire staff including the kitchen staff.
I've started being able to deal with missing people - not necessarily miss them any less, but just find a place to put it. What I have more trouble with, however, is missing peoples' crises. I'm someone who likes to be available in times of need, and that's just not possible here. It defines many of my relationships, too, so I think that will change how my friendships evolve over the next couple years.
This next Friday, we find out our sites. The Saturday after (2 weeks from now), we get sworn in - hopefully all of us will make it! It would be great to have 36 of us all become volunteers at the same time - I really can't wait!
As much as I enjoy being in B---, it gets a little stifling. I'm not sure if that's just because of my host family, or it's the town in general, but most of us can't wait to leave.
There are two spots for English teachers here in B---. The word from the English teachers is that nobody really wants to go, but a couple people might be OK dealing with it. Hopefully, nobody will leave over site placement - it's pretty sensitive, and I know PC puts a pretty big effort into it. Our opinion doesn't count that much, but that's just because we don't know what we're really getting ourselves into. I wouldn't feel as good about it if I had total say over where I was going.
Plus, I came here to help people, no matter where that takes me.
I got a tape of the radio broadcast of my website. It came in a package with an artificial Xmas tree from my dad. Wow! It's already up in the house here, decorated. What a surprise!
Anyway, I heard the radio broadcast and the commentary was quite interesting. They referred to me as being very naive, and it's interesting to watch my naivete being lost over here.
I didn't quite know how to take that - for an American, I don't know that I'm naive to the rest of the world. I think I had a pretty good understanding, relatively speaking, of how the world works.
I suppose my idealism sometimes translates as being innocence - but I hold on to my idealism in the face of people who tell me I can't do certain things.
Of course, when I in fact discover that a certain thing cannot be done after all, I have a tendency to then tell other people they can't do it. So I'm not all idealist :) I'd like to fix that part of me.
Anyway, I think that I'm probably naive to the ways of the world from an Australian point of view, because Americans are so much more insular. So that's how I'm looking at it!
Peace
John
11/29/2002
For "Ngoma Time" today, we had a fun little skit between four of us trainees.
We did the bit where the people are "cooking" but their arms are actually someone else's. So Zach and I were the bodies and Jesse and Dennis were the arms. We decided to do a "cooking show" on traditional Mozambican cooking, which ended up being anything but traditional, of course.
Zach and I wanted to make it a full cross-cultural experience, so we attempted to speak in Portuguese while watermelon dipped in mayonnaise was being shoved into our mouths. It got some big laughs, and was well worth the insult to my GI tract.
The best moments of the skit were definitely when we got bread shoved in our mouths, because we couldn't just bite off one piece, and we couldn't eat it all without the coordination of our hands. So we'd try and talk while biting pieces off.
Then they dipped into the Peanut Butter. Zach has a full beard and I've got the bottom half of a goatee. Zach "suggested" we decorate our beards (it's the same word in Portuguese) with peanut butter. Good idea :)
In any case, I had my last full lesson today for model school and it was utter chaos. I had the last class of a Friday, of 10th graders (no ordinary 10th graders, these guys are from 16-26 years old), outside, where it was nice and windy. And then I was told I needed to hand out pens to those students who needed them. An already excited class - I had to stand still, saying nothing, for about 2 minutes, just to get them to shut up. Plus, I didn't have enough pens. But I handled it relatively gracefully, and I still feel confident in my teaching abilities!
Peace
John
We did the bit where the people are "cooking" but their arms are actually someone else's. So Zach and I were the bodies and Jesse and Dennis were the arms. We decided to do a "cooking show" on traditional Mozambican cooking, which ended up being anything but traditional, of course.
Zach and I wanted to make it a full cross-cultural experience, so we attempted to speak in Portuguese while watermelon dipped in mayonnaise was being shoved into our mouths. It got some big laughs, and was well worth the insult to my GI tract.
The best moments of the skit were definitely when we got bread shoved in our mouths, because we couldn't just bite off one piece, and we couldn't eat it all without the coordination of our hands. So we'd try and talk while biting pieces off.
Then they dipped into the Peanut Butter. Zach has a full beard and I've got the bottom half of a goatee. Zach "suggested" we decorate our beards (it's the same word in Portuguese) with peanut butter. Good idea :)
In any case, I had my last full lesson today for model school and it was utter chaos. I had the last class of a Friday, of 10th graders (no ordinary 10th graders, these guys are from 16-26 years old), outside, where it was nice and windy. And then I was told I needed to hand out pens to those students who needed them. An already excited class - I had to stand still, saying nothing, for about 2 minutes, just to get them to shut up. Plus, I didn't have enough pens. But I handled it relatively gracefully, and I still feel confident in my teaching abilities!
Peace
John
11/28/2002
I may be mistaken, but I believe this is my first Thanksgiving outside the US. It's very strange.
I want everything in the States to just stay the way it was when I left (in terms of people), but I know that's not possible. Coming to terms with the fact that things will change tremendously (and some things not at all) will take some time.
My Portuguese continues to improve, especially my comprehension. I seem to do real well when I can set the context of the conversation.
I have lots to talk about, but only so much time (and only so many things I CAN talk about).
Peace
John
I want everything in the States to just stay the way it was when I left (in terms of people), but I know that's not possible. Coming to terms with the fact that things will change tremendously (and some things not at all) will take some time.
My Portuguese continues to improve, especially my comprehension. I seem to do real well when I can set the context of the conversation.
I have lots to talk about, but only so much time (and only so many things I CAN talk about).
Peace
John
11/27/2002
(THIS IS MOM --- I JUST GOT A GROUP OF OLD POSTINGS THAT I NEVER THOUGHT I'D SEE! ENJOY...)
I remember early on in high school, we did this exercise wherre everyone picked one food to eat for an entire day. It had to be something healthy, but you could only eat that one food the entire day. It was meant to simulate conditions in third world countries like African nations.
Now that I eat rice with 2 of my 3 meals and eggs the rest of the time, and my body odor smells of bread from all the fresh bread I eat, I think that experiment was stupid. To try and break down a poor state into its parts and then experiment with them is silly. There's so much hee that I could never find in the states, having nothing to do with food. But it makes the food not matter after a while. I make jokes at dinnertime - "Ooooh, rice!" And everyone laughs. We have humor here, about having less. It's OK.
I had a bad day today. But someone else had a downright shitty day. This is the way it goes.
Peace
John
I remember early on in high school, we did this exercise wherre everyone picked one food to eat for an entire day. It had to be something healthy, but you could only eat that one food the entire day. It was meant to simulate conditions in third world countries like African nations.
Now that I eat rice with 2 of my 3 meals and eggs the rest of the time, and my body odor smells of bread from all the fresh bread I eat, I think that experiment was stupid. To try and break down a poor state into its parts and then experiment with them is silly. There's so much hee that I could never find in the states, having nothing to do with food. But it makes the food not matter after a while. I make jokes at dinnertime - "Ooooh, rice!" And everyone laughs. We have humor here, about having less. It's OK.
I had a bad day today. But someone else had a downright shitty day. This is the way it goes.
Peace
John
Saturday, March 01, 2003
2/03/2003
There doesn't seem to be an easy decision here. Every decision is laden with consequences. For example, the neighbors asked to use some laundry soap today.
In the States, I wouldn't think twice - of course you can have some. But here, when you offer things so freely, you set a dangerous precedent for how much you're willing to share your relative opulence. Though I live in a rich neighborhood, and I'm not, there is still the expectation that I have more than enough to give away.
It's quite often that kids will show up saying "Give me X" (because they learned the English "Give me" construction), or "Estou a pedir para..." (which means "I beg you for..."). And though we are not unique in being asked this question, the impetus is our skin color and nationality.
In any case, the answer is usually no, except if it's water. Water is free for us, and to deny water would be inhuman. If the whole neighborhood started asking us for water, I might change my tune, but for now, I'm fine with it.
One of the members of the singing group came up to me, while we were practicing for a performance today. He asked me what nationality I was, and then steered the conversation to war. He had seen US submarines in Maputo during the Vietnam War (when Maputo was called Lourenzo Marques) and we talked about the current situation in Iraq. He spoke about the civil war here, about how it tore families apart, and we came to very similar conclusions on what we wanted most for the world.
Peace
John
In the States, I wouldn't think twice - of course you can have some. But here, when you offer things so freely, you set a dangerous precedent for how much you're willing to share your relative opulence. Though I live in a rich neighborhood, and I'm not, there is still the expectation that I have more than enough to give away.
It's quite often that kids will show up saying "Give me X" (because they learned the English "Give me" construction), or "Estou a pedir para..." (which means "I beg you for..."). And though we are not unique in being asked this question, the impetus is our skin color and nationality.
In any case, the answer is usually no, except if it's water. Water is free for us, and to deny water would be inhuman. If the whole neighborhood started asking us for water, I might change my tune, but for now, I'm fine with it.
One of the members of the singing group came up to me, while we were practicing for a performance today. He asked me what nationality I was, and then steered the conversation to war. He had seen US submarines in Maputo during the Vietnam War (when Maputo was called Lourenzo Marques) and we talked about the current situation in Iraq. He spoke about the civil war here, about how it tore families apart, and we came to very similar conclusions on what we wanted most for the world.
Peace
John
2/2/2003
It's hot here. All the time. I sweat a lot in the States. I sweat a lot here. I had an hourlong phone conversation and had to towel off the phone. Blake and I sit down to dinner and slide off our seats. White guys aren't made for Africa.
It's not that Africans take it in stride. Mozambicans are always complaining about the heat, but their routines and lifestyles are all wrapped around dealing with it and being smart about the heat. We Americans just don't get it right away.
And in my town, we don't have it bad. There a city up north that's often 10 degrees Centigrade (18 degrees Fahrenheit) warmer than mine. No, I can't imagine that every day.
To be honest, I have adjusted. I never put my arms on paper I'm writing on, or I risk getting it drenched. I go shirtless whenever possible. I haven't used a sheet at night in quite a while. I always wear a baseball hat out in the sun. Lights are on in the house only when necessary. The back door is almost always open. Strenuous exercise is avoided from 9 AM to 4 PM. Water bottle is always near. Towels are necessary for cooking because of the stove.
And when it cools down to a chilly 70-75 degrees F for a day, the long-sleeved shirts come out just for the sake of using them. What was I thinking bringing these? Air conditioning?
Yeah, hot. In response to "How are you?", they say around here "So calor" ("only the heat") meaning that all WOULD be great...
Peace
John
It's not that Africans take it in stride. Mozambicans are always complaining about the heat, but their routines and lifestyles are all wrapped around dealing with it and being smart about the heat. We Americans just don't get it right away.
And in my town, we don't have it bad. There a city up north that's often 10 degrees Centigrade (18 degrees Fahrenheit) warmer than mine. No, I can't imagine that every day.
To be honest, I have adjusted. I never put my arms on paper I'm writing on, or I risk getting it drenched. I go shirtless whenever possible. I haven't used a sheet at night in quite a while. I always wear a baseball hat out in the sun. Lights are on in the house only when necessary. The back door is almost always open. Strenuous exercise is avoided from 9 AM to 4 PM. Water bottle is always near. Towels are necessary for cooking because of the stove.
And when it cools down to a chilly 70-75 degrees F for a day, the long-sleeved shirts come out just for the sake of using them. What was I thinking bringing these? Air conditioning?
Yeah, hot. In response to "How are you?", they say around here "So calor" ("only the heat") meaning that all WOULD be great...
Peace
John
2/1/2003
So I realized I need to take a step back and really explain what school's like, from the beginning.
I have afternoon classes only, as I only have the 9th grade. 10th grade has classes during the morning, 8th also has classes during the afternoon. 11th and 12th grades are also at my school, in the morning, but in the 2nd cycle. 8th-10th are in the 1st cycle. The 2 cycles make up the secondary school. There are additionally night classes for all of the levels. Morning session starts at 7 AM and goes until 12:10 PM. Afternoon session starts at 12:45 PM and goes until 5:55 PM. Night session starts at 6:00 PM and goes until 11:10 PM.
Every school has a director, and a pedagogical director for each cycle for day and night classes. Thus, my pedagogical director is only the pedagogical director for day classes in the first cycle. Every discipline, of which there are 10, has a director, and every turma, or group of students, has a director from the staff.
Of the 10 disciplines, Portuguese and Mathematics meet 5 times a week, Biology, English, Chemistry and Physics meet 3 times a week, and Drafting, History and Geography meet twice per week. Physical Education meets during the morning for 8th and 9th grades and during the afternoon for 10th grade. I am not certain of the 11th-12th grade schedule, but I know they study Philosophy and French instead of 2 first cycle disciplines.
Each turma has a room that they stay in while the professors move around (making dramatic entrances!). They elect a chief (chefe), kind of a class president, and other officers. The chefe, who has not been appointed yet in my school, can be very useful in class. Volunteers often use the chefe to help control students, read things to be dictated, or even help teach, depending on the quality of the chefe.
Regardless of being elected, leaders naturally crop up in the classroom, with or without a chefe. You can count on them to help quiet everyone down, and answer questions that should be obvious but are presented to involve students in the class.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
I walk to school every day around 12-12:30, depending on if I need to talk to people before class. Many students call me "Stor" - but I don't know the exact derivation of the term. It seems to be short for Professor in a weird kind of way. But it's only about a 4 minute walk to school, which is a two-story building dressed in pink, the compound surrounded by a fence that's red wire on top of concrete - in 10 foot sections that are in various states of disrepair - spread over 4 or so blocks. The lower level houses the pedagogical director's offices, the director's office, the professors' room (that now has 6 computers - more on that later), the secretaries, and about 11 classrooms. The upper level houses the students who stay at school, mirroring the rooms below them.
There are four other buildings on the compound. Taking north to be straight ahead when you walk in the front entrance, there is a volleyball/basketball court with an equipment room of sorts on the southeast corner, a gymnasium due north, an old dilapidated classroom complex (that I described before) in the northwest corner, and a snack stand on the western boundary. School sits due south, a little west. The soccer field makes up the rest of the eastern boundary.
I walk in through the main entrance, bypassing the downed fence that would save me a minute's time if I hopped it. My house is northeast of the school.
As soon as I step into the compound, I can feel the stares of students who are hanging out on the "hallways" (everything is outdoors, of course). It's not that they don't stare at me while I walk to class, it's just much more obvious when they don't have walking to be preoccupied with.
As I say my greetings, some in English if students want to practice their English, I inevitably see a couple other professors and ask the usual questions and say the usual things.
If I'm going to my first class, I grab the Livro de Turma (the "Book for the Class") for my first class (which is also the chefe's responsibility to delegate) and head into the room after chatting with the woman who guards the books and keeps the professors updated with what's going on today.
The book contains the names of all of the students along with their assigned numbers. It has a weekly schedule for the turma, where the corresponding professor writes the summary of their lesson and signs off on it. Additionally, and some would say most impotrantly, marks absences with a black, blue or red pen. Roll must be called every period, and normal faltas are marked with black or blue. Red faltas are considered extremely severe and a student with a certain number of these can be expelled.
When I walk into class, the students stand up and wish me good afternoon in a very militaristic, tortured manner. But without it, they would be treating me differently, with less respect. I sometimes have to cue them to stand, but they'll do it as reluctantly as I order them to.
I unpack my matierals for teaching and my eraser. This is around the time I start getting into character and planning out what I want to do in the next 5 minutes. If this sounds like acting, that's how I've been approaching every class. It's a small, somewhat improvised performance - but I find this necessary because my in-class personality has to be strict and confident. These are two qualities I don't naturally have very much of, at least at this point in my teaching. And I don't know if I ever want to be "strict" per se, but playing the same role 24 times a week for two years...we'll see.
I start every class with a small discussion about AIDS, what I believe to be the biggest problem plaguing this country that can be solved through education. I usually let discipline go a little during this part of the lesson, so as to facilitate participation. But then I start the lesson and ask for silence.
Lessons vary tremendously, depending upon the time of day, how much information needs to be presented and in what manner, the rowdiness of the students, and the mood I'm in. Also, if something funny happens.
On Friday, the door to the classroom was opening and closing, being very disruptive. So I asked a student to close it, and he kept shutting it, but not latching it, so that it didn't fully close. I was getting pretty frustrated, so I went over to the door, and demonstrated how to open the latch, close the door, and release the latch. Unfortunately, at this moment, I noticed that there was nothing for the door to latch onto, which had been the problem all along. This prompted an uproar of laughing, and it was all I could do to say "in character" and just play it off as a simple mistake. I knew smiling would just set them off more.
So I told one of the students to move his desk (where another student was sitting as well) up against the door. While I walked back to the front of the room, they moved the desk against the door, with the student who was seated away from the door seated again, but the other student who needed to get back in, standing up behind the desk.
Realizing he had just painted himself into a corner, and that it would be rude to me to hop over the back, he half-moved in every direction, exploring every option in a very panicked manner. Watching the whole thing develop, I just couldn't contain myself - the comedy of everything and how formality was ridiculous when kids are dressed in flip-flops and t-shirts. I sat there and laughed, prompting the students to laugh as well until he managed to get back into his seat.
They quieted down nicely, having gotten some energy out of their systems.
I do not wish for peace.
I wish for the abandonment of war. Peace is something that happens because of war, but I want the whole idea thrown out altogether. Without dark, there is no light - without peace, there is no war.
Therefore, my simple wish is for a world without peace and thus without war.
Back to teaching.
I find that I'm getting really good at only making a mistake once. This is good, because I have to essentially do the same thing eight times, every time.
It's fun being in front of the class, especially when a student is participating. They are trying so hard, so much harder than American students, to "wing" it when called on to do so. When they are in front, their voices get low, their body language is sheepish and in general they seem to understand what it's like to have to teach. But that role of student temporarily teaching is so much different. When you are teaching, you are assumed to be correct and so you can behave with confidence, even if you're not. As a student in front of their peers, there is no assumption of correctness. Being constantly scrutinized is one of the major causes of tension, and though the information I present is mainly devoid of that, my appearance and simply my presence causes a lot of scrutiny.
I get 1/3 to 1/4 the salary of the other teachers at my school, and though it's partially compensated by free rent, electricity and water, being held to all of the same (if not higher) standards is frustrating.
The plight of the development worker, I suppose.
Peace
John
I have afternoon classes only, as I only have the 9th grade. 10th grade has classes during the morning, 8th also has classes during the afternoon. 11th and 12th grades are also at my school, in the morning, but in the 2nd cycle. 8th-10th are in the 1st cycle. The 2 cycles make up the secondary school. There are additionally night classes for all of the levels. Morning session starts at 7 AM and goes until 12:10 PM. Afternoon session starts at 12:45 PM and goes until 5:55 PM. Night session starts at 6:00 PM and goes until 11:10 PM.
Every school has a director, and a pedagogical director for each cycle for day and night classes. Thus, my pedagogical director is only the pedagogical director for day classes in the first cycle. Every discipline, of which there are 10, has a director, and every turma, or group of students, has a director from the staff.
Of the 10 disciplines, Portuguese and Mathematics meet 5 times a week, Biology, English, Chemistry and Physics meet 3 times a week, and Drafting, History and Geography meet twice per week. Physical Education meets during the morning for 8th and 9th grades and during the afternoon for 10th grade. I am not certain of the 11th-12th grade schedule, but I know they study Philosophy and French instead of 2 first cycle disciplines.
Each turma has a room that they stay in while the professors move around (making dramatic entrances!). They elect a chief (chefe), kind of a class president, and other officers. The chefe, who has not been appointed yet in my school, can be very useful in class. Volunteers often use the chefe to help control students, read things to be dictated, or even help teach, depending on the quality of the chefe.
Regardless of being elected, leaders naturally crop up in the classroom, with or without a chefe. You can count on them to help quiet everyone down, and answer questions that should be obvious but are presented to involve students in the class.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
I walk to school every day around 12-12:30, depending on if I need to talk to people before class. Many students call me "Stor" - but I don't know the exact derivation of the term. It seems to be short for Professor in a weird kind of way. But it's only about a 4 minute walk to school, which is a two-story building dressed in pink, the compound surrounded by a fence that's red wire on top of concrete - in 10 foot sections that are in various states of disrepair - spread over 4 or so blocks. The lower level houses the pedagogical director's offices, the director's office, the professors' room (that now has 6 computers - more on that later), the secretaries, and about 11 classrooms. The upper level houses the students who stay at school, mirroring the rooms below them.
There are four other buildings on the compound. Taking north to be straight ahead when you walk in the front entrance, there is a volleyball/basketball court with an equipment room of sorts on the southeast corner, a gymnasium due north, an old dilapidated classroom complex (that I described before) in the northwest corner, and a snack stand on the western boundary. School sits due south, a little west. The soccer field makes up the rest of the eastern boundary.
I walk in through the main entrance, bypassing the downed fence that would save me a minute's time if I hopped it. My house is northeast of the school.
As soon as I step into the compound, I can feel the stares of students who are hanging out on the "hallways" (everything is outdoors, of course). It's not that they don't stare at me while I walk to class, it's just much more obvious when they don't have walking to be preoccupied with.
As I say my greetings, some in English if students want to practice their English, I inevitably see a couple other professors and ask the usual questions and say the usual things.
If I'm going to my first class, I grab the Livro de Turma (the "Book for the Class") for my first class (which is also the chefe's responsibility to delegate) and head into the room after chatting with the woman who guards the books and keeps the professors updated with what's going on today.
The book contains the names of all of the students along with their assigned numbers. It has a weekly schedule for the turma, where the corresponding professor writes the summary of their lesson and signs off on it. Additionally, and some would say most impotrantly, marks absences with a black, blue or red pen. Roll must be called every period, and normal faltas are marked with black or blue. Red faltas are considered extremely severe and a student with a certain number of these can be expelled.
When I walk into class, the students stand up and wish me good afternoon in a very militaristic, tortured manner. But without it, they would be treating me differently, with less respect. I sometimes have to cue them to stand, but they'll do it as reluctantly as I order them to.
I unpack my matierals for teaching and my eraser. This is around the time I start getting into character and planning out what I want to do in the next 5 minutes. If this sounds like acting, that's how I've been approaching every class. It's a small, somewhat improvised performance - but I find this necessary because my in-class personality has to be strict and confident. These are two qualities I don't naturally have very much of, at least at this point in my teaching. And I don't know if I ever want to be "strict" per se, but playing the same role 24 times a week for two years...we'll see.
I start every class with a small discussion about AIDS, what I believe to be the biggest problem plaguing this country that can be solved through education. I usually let discipline go a little during this part of the lesson, so as to facilitate participation. But then I start the lesson and ask for silence.
Lessons vary tremendously, depending upon the time of day, how much information needs to be presented and in what manner, the rowdiness of the students, and the mood I'm in. Also, if something funny happens.
On Friday, the door to the classroom was opening and closing, being very disruptive. So I asked a student to close it, and he kept shutting it, but not latching it, so that it didn't fully close. I was getting pretty frustrated, so I went over to the door, and demonstrated how to open the latch, close the door, and release the latch. Unfortunately, at this moment, I noticed that there was nothing for the door to latch onto, which had been the problem all along. This prompted an uproar of laughing, and it was all I could do to say "in character" and just play it off as a simple mistake. I knew smiling would just set them off more.
So I told one of the students to move his desk (where another student was sitting as well) up against the door. While I walked back to the front of the room, they moved the desk against the door, with the student who was seated away from the door seated again, but the other student who needed to get back in, standing up behind the desk.
Realizing he had just painted himself into a corner, and that it would be rude to me to hop over the back, he half-moved in every direction, exploring every option in a very panicked manner. Watching the whole thing develop, I just couldn't contain myself - the comedy of everything and how formality was ridiculous when kids are dressed in flip-flops and t-shirts. I sat there and laughed, prompting the students to laugh as well until he managed to get back into his seat.
They quieted down nicely, having gotten some energy out of their systems.
I do not wish for peace.
I wish for the abandonment of war. Peace is something that happens because of war, but I want the whole idea thrown out altogether. Without dark, there is no light - without peace, there is no war.
Therefore, my simple wish is for a world without peace and thus without war.
Back to teaching.
I find that I'm getting really good at only making a mistake once. This is good, because I have to essentially do the same thing eight times, every time.
It's fun being in front of the class, especially when a student is participating. They are trying so hard, so much harder than American students, to "wing" it when called on to do so. When they are in front, their voices get low, their body language is sheepish and in general they seem to understand what it's like to have to teach. But that role of student temporarily teaching is so much different. When you are teaching, you are assumed to be correct and so you can behave with confidence, even if you're not. As a student in front of their peers, there is no assumption of correctness. Being constantly scrutinized is one of the major causes of tension, and though the information I present is mainly devoid of that, my appearance and simply my presence causes a lot of scrutiny.
I get 1/3 to 1/4 the salary of the other teachers at my school, and though it's partially compensated by free rent, electricity and water, being held to all of the same (if not higher) standards is frustrating.
The plight of the development worker, I suppose.
Peace
John
1/26/2003
This is the first day the drought was so obvious that it could not be ignored.
The wind was whipping up today pretty fiercely, blowing dried leaves in every direction including into my house. I didn't think twice about it until I realized that we were in the middle of summer, in the tropics. I don't know if leaves fall here, but they definitely don't do it in January.
When I went to the market, the wind was whipping up a veritable dust storm. This is a town that was the epicenter of the 2000 floods, located in a pretty major flood plain. Ironically, we are as much at risk of having people starve from drought as losing their homes from floods. The last floods were exacerbated by the release of a dam on the Limpopo by another country. If Mozambique starts to get rain, the parched ground might not be able to hold it, and other countries that need to release water might trigger the same problem.
Essentially, inconsistent rain is a bad thing.
There are two 1/2-acre size plots of corn next to my house. Both are almost completely decimated, the major damage coming in the past week. And these are plots that have access to running water.
If the corn crop is significantly damaged, two major problems happen. First, the small-time farmers like my neighbors who count on their corn to supplement, or provide, income may be unable to buy adequate amounts of food, imported from wetter areas and costing more.
Secondly, without the large farms being able to export any surplus, they will have to jack up prices just to break even, or risk exporting and starving their people.
The obvious problem is the simple void of food - but the alternatives are costly, and for a poor country like Mozambique, unaffordable in terms of humanity.
What's worse, and compounding this problem, is the effect of AIDS, which affects more women than men here, at a ratio of about 3:2. Women are the farmers and food providers.
Additionally, if this area of Africa is unable to produce food for the rest of the continent, effects will be felt from here to Cairo.
So I'm hoping for rain, and to see foreign aid trucks coming through. The biggest irony in all this is that I can't do anything about the problem personally, but I could if I were in the States. Maybe I can help unload trucks, if and when they come through, but that seems pretty silly.
So this is my plea to you, if when you read this the drought is still affecting the region, and you have the financial means, to donate money to organizations like US Aid. I usually, almost never, make appeals like this, but this is the way I can help and I did make that promise a while ago.
And when Sally Struthers inevitably pops up and convinces you that for the cost of a cup of coffee, someone can eat for a day, she's right. I went shopping and got more than enough for one day with $1.50 I eat a lot.
All right, that's all my time on the soapbox.
It's funny how segues find me. I meant to comment on Dinho, my neighbor who's 14 years old and in one of my classes now.
Well, he came over today and thoroughly enraged me. Past the point of tolerance, and I can take a lot. Combined with a fever, I threw him out because I couldn't take him. I had promised him dinner yesterday, for tonight, but told him I would make it tomorrow.
Apparently, he already told his sister that he was eating here, so there was no dinner for him. Well, I'm not about to deprive the kid of food, so I let him in and let him cook my leftovers that I was saving for lunch.
The reason I'm being so strict is because he's not being respectful, not by my standards, not by African standards. Every time I draw a line after he's crossed it, he respects it once or twice, then tests it again by subtly violating it. So I keep having to redraw the lines, which is tiring, but seems to be slowly working. I try hard to separate the part of me that's an asshole for consistency, from the guy who's here to help. Today, however, that was very difficult. I don't enjoy being an ass (and I have routinely been an ass when it comes to my expectations of others), but it just comes out when I feel like someone else has control over me. Once again, the whole control thing - I can't seem to get away from my need here in Mozambique to be in control of a situation. Not necessarily in charge, but at least in charge of me.
And when it's a 14 year old, it grates on me even more. But walking the line between assistance and sustainability is tough. I promised him dinner, which is fine, but if his family had no food for him, am I just creating more problems?
Today was also a homesick day. I really wanted to go biking, grab a fresh, 2 pound salad, save it for a second dinner, then go to Que Tal and get horchatas with Eric. It felt real, and realizing how long it's be before I had that chance was hard.
So I keep reminding myself of the words Dennis uses as solace. "This is still cooler than anything my friends are doing." And cooler than anything I'd be doing back home, that's for sure.
I have language to look forward to, as I am gaining fluency in Portuguese, I am to start Changana classes soon, and I have been promised French lessons down the line. Language, among other things, is exciting. And these 21 or so months will pass quicker than I can imagine. So I'm trying my hardest to push aside the homesickness!
Peace,
John
The wind was whipping up today pretty fiercely, blowing dried leaves in every direction including into my house. I didn't think twice about it until I realized that we were in the middle of summer, in the tropics. I don't know if leaves fall here, but they definitely don't do it in January.
When I went to the market, the wind was whipping up a veritable dust storm. This is a town that was the epicenter of the 2000 floods, located in a pretty major flood plain. Ironically, we are as much at risk of having people starve from drought as losing their homes from floods. The last floods were exacerbated by the release of a dam on the Limpopo by another country. If Mozambique starts to get rain, the parched ground might not be able to hold it, and other countries that need to release water might trigger the same problem.
Essentially, inconsistent rain is a bad thing.
There are two 1/2-acre size plots of corn next to my house. Both are almost completely decimated, the major damage coming in the past week. And these are plots that have access to running water.
If the corn crop is significantly damaged, two major problems happen. First, the small-time farmers like my neighbors who count on their corn to supplement, or provide, income may be unable to buy adequate amounts of food, imported from wetter areas and costing more.
Secondly, without the large farms being able to export any surplus, they will have to jack up prices just to break even, or risk exporting and starving their people.
The obvious problem is the simple void of food - but the alternatives are costly, and for a poor country like Mozambique, unaffordable in terms of humanity.
What's worse, and compounding this problem, is the effect of AIDS, which affects more women than men here, at a ratio of about 3:2. Women are the farmers and food providers.
Additionally, if this area of Africa is unable to produce food for the rest of the continent, effects will be felt from here to Cairo.
So I'm hoping for rain, and to see foreign aid trucks coming through. The biggest irony in all this is that I can't do anything about the problem personally, but I could if I were in the States. Maybe I can help unload trucks, if and when they come through, but that seems pretty silly.
So this is my plea to you, if when you read this the drought is still affecting the region, and you have the financial means, to donate money to organizations like US Aid. I usually, almost never, make appeals like this, but this is the way I can help and I did make that promise a while ago.
And when Sally Struthers inevitably pops up and convinces you that for the cost of a cup of coffee, someone can eat for a day, she's right. I went shopping and got more than enough for one day with $1.50 I eat a lot.
All right, that's all my time on the soapbox.
It's funny how segues find me. I meant to comment on Dinho, my neighbor who's 14 years old and in one of my classes now.
Well, he came over today and thoroughly enraged me. Past the point of tolerance, and I can take a lot. Combined with a fever, I threw him out because I couldn't take him. I had promised him dinner yesterday, for tonight, but told him I would make it tomorrow.
Apparently, he already told his sister that he was eating here, so there was no dinner for him. Well, I'm not about to deprive the kid of food, so I let him in and let him cook my leftovers that I was saving for lunch.
The reason I'm being so strict is because he's not being respectful, not by my standards, not by African standards. Every time I draw a line after he's crossed it, he respects it once or twice, then tests it again by subtly violating it. So I keep having to redraw the lines, which is tiring, but seems to be slowly working. I try hard to separate the part of me that's an asshole for consistency, from the guy who's here to help. Today, however, that was very difficult. I don't enjoy being an ass (and I have routinely been an ass when it comes to my expectations of others), but it just comes out when I feel like someone else has control over me. Once again, the whole control thing - I can't seem to get away from my need here in Mozambique to be in control of a situation. Not necessarily in charge, but at least in charge of me.
And when it's a 14 year old, it grates on me even more. But walking the line between assistance and sustainability is tough. I promised him dinner, which is fine, but if his family had no food for him, am I just creating more problems?
Today was also a homesick day. I really wanted to go biking, grab a fresh, 2 pound salad, save it for a second dinner, then go to Que Tal and get horchatas with Eric. It felt real, and realizing how long it's be before I had that chance was hard.
So I keep reminding myself of the words Dennis uses as solace. "This is still cooler than anything my friends are doing." And cooler than anything I'd be doing back home, that's for sure.
I have language to look forward to, as I am gaining fluency in Portuguese, I am to start Changana classes soon, and I have been promised French lessons down the line. Language, among other things, is exciting. And these 21 or so months will pass quicker than I can imagine. So I'm trying my hardest to push aside the homesickness!
Peace,
John
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