Fear and Other Friends

So you know how I was feeling guilty about not having anything to do? Well, that's over. The good news is I no longer feel guilty. The bad news is, how am I ever going to accomplish all of these things?? The short answer: I'm not. I know half the things I want to do will never come to fruition. But right now, I'm still in that hazy space between planning and implementation, the time when everything seems vaguely possible and I don't know where to begin.

I went to St. Francis Secondary School this week to observe the classes and take stock of what needs to be done. There are about 200 students from all over Nkozi parish, some of whom board at the school in two tiny rooms with broken windows. Others must walk miles to make it in time for the 8:00 bell, and they don't leave until 5 on most days. There are only 5 or 6 teachers, most of whom are part-time and work at other schools. I'm supposed to help with English, but they seem to have the subject pretty well covered, even though they had before stated the need for an English teacher. I don't want to swoop in and try to change the way the current teacher is working, but hopefully I can work with him to make the course better. Right now, none of the students have textbooks and class mainly consists of them copying down small points on grammar that the teacher dictates. The curriculum is very Anglo-centric and rather outdated-- the one textbook available (the teacher's copy) sounds straight out of pre-WWII Britain. But I can't try to change the curriculum because the students must take a national test at the end of the year, which mandates the teaching of these strange, old-fashioned grammatical oddities.

 Making a new friend

TWO hemispheres at once--count 'em, two!

 Artsy photo fun. 

Sunset from the hill. 

This week was supposed to be for observation. Yesterday, though, one of the teachers was not at work. When I asked another if the class would still go on, he asked if I'd like to teach it. Nothing like jumping into the deep end. I skimmed through an exercise book (there were several copies of this one) and found an excerpt of a story by Chinua Achebe, which I decided to read out loud with the class. I entered the Senior 3 room (the equivalent of high school juniors, maybe a little younger) and was met by 30 pairs of curious eyes. I introduced myself and wrote my name on the chalkboard: "Miss Katie." They still called me Madam, in keeping with traditional practice. "Madam Katie" sounds pretty awful to me, but I guess if that's what they want to call me, that's what I'll answer to.

I tried to ask the class what they learned about yesterday. Silence. Were they ignoring me, or was it my accent? The kids have a lot of trouble understanding my accent. A LOT of trouble. No matter how slowly and deliberately I speak, they still can't make sense of it, especially when I say a word with an "r" in the middle. I don't know if I need to adopt a British accent or what, but something has to change, or I will be the least coherent teacher in Ugandan history. At any rate, I never did find out what they were studying, so I jumped right into the story and crossed my fingers that it wouldn't bomb. I asked for a volunteer to read aloud (of course, no one wanted to) so I started picking randomly. There were many excellent readers in the class, but I think they were puzzled by my approach. Group work/discussion doesn't really seem to happen much in the schools here; instead, teachers lecture for the entirety of the class and the students copy his words in neat handwriting.

I'm also supposed to teach a new class called "moral education" with Sister Estellina, my counterpart from UMU. There is absolutely no curriculum for this class, which could either be a blessing or a disaster. We're hoping to really get individuals involved in discussions about ethics and how they personally relate to traditional moral ideals. This could be an opportunity to recreate PLS for high schoolers, and I really hope they like it. So far, though, it's all just another vague plan floating around in my head. It takes a long time to make ideas a reality anywhere, but this is especially true in a school with few resources and minimal outside support. St. Francis has a lot of potential, but it definitely needs some attention, even in things as basic as the state of the latrines and the cleanliness of the drinking water. It's amazing to me, though, that the school is still hanging on, and doing better than many American schools, I'd say, despite these hardships that would cause the latter to shut down.

I'm sure I'll be talking a lot about St. Francis in the days to come. I'm both excited and nervous to teach. Will they like me? More importantly, will they learn from me? When I voiced my trepidation to Sr. Estellina, she relayed some advice from her father: "Look fear in the face and make it your friend." So that's what I'm going to try to do.