Last Sunday afternoon we had a meeting of the Zambian Board of Chishawasha. It was a good and productive meeting of enthusiastic members and everything went well. As I stepped out into the warm afternoon sun, I had the most expansive feelings of well-being. Yes, it was a good meeting but it couldn't have had such an effect on my emotions. Then it came to me that I had been in the compnay of adults for a coupel hours and engaged in conversation on topics other than math or the alphabet and the sounds that letters make. What a wonderful feeling! I had even enjoyed the 'prevelidge' of taking notes, something I always avoid is such meetings.
How many seeds in a banana? Or where is the maize?
In science class we recently covered flowers and flower parts and pollination and fertilisation (as we spell it here). So in our class this week we were working on what becomes of those fertilised flowers. In prep for the class, I got permission to go around and filch stuff from the gardens. I had been warned about getting permission lest I be shot. I inquired of the mother who gave me the okay, as to whether she had a gun. She was unarmed. I used mostly things that were aged beyond use in the kitchen: small pumpkin, small squash, some red impwa (egg plant: when edible they are green or white and are the shape and size of an egg), picked my first okra and finally took three ears of maize. I suplimented these with a couple of apples, plums and bananas from the store.
Students were supposed to cut these open, draw them and note the number of seeds. Some adults here, previous to the class had assured me that bananas have no seeds. So I made sure that we counted them, or rather estimated the number. Each student got a narrow, measured section of a banana and counted the seeds in that. Then with the length of the banana, they could roughly estimate the total number. Rather than have them count the seeds in an ear of maize, again suggested another estimate: count the seeds in an average row and then multiply that times the number of rows. While I was doling out measured banana slices to one group of students, I gave the maize to another. It wasn't until near the end of class that I realized that the maize had disappeared. Very few kids had seen it. Well I knew the fruit should be watched closely and kept my eye on that, but I hadn't thought the raw ears of maize would be such tempting items.
I think I traced those ears back to the culprit. So for our next class, he will get to estimate the seeds on three ears of maize and then count them to see how close he was. But worst of all, he will have to give it all away afterward, getting none for himself. What a diabolical teacher.
School Work?
Much work is being done on the school building and grounds. Some badly needed gutters have been installed. Rain from the roof of the school has been carrying away our playground and was laying bare the foundation in places. And finally our new concrete walkways have ended abruptly at the edge of the high covered porchway connecting the classrooms. There was an awkward step up or down that this old teacher always tried to do gracefully, but rarely succeeded. Well now we will have steps. On our next school day the concrete should be dried and set.
New Generator
Our new generator is connected and fueled up. It automatically starts 5 seconds after a power outage and shuts off when it comes back on. Now that would seem to solve all our power problems, right? No, this is Zambia. Now that we have this generator, our electric company it seems has hooked up many more folks to the same transformer, so the power doesn't just quit, it goes off and on, and of and on, rapidly enough that our generator doesn't want to get involved. Its hell on computers and other equipment and your well-being in general after a half hour or so.
House Rotation
Early on in my sty here, it was decided that each house would get me for a month for supper. Prior to this, I was getting passed around and would go to supper with who ever came to get me. But communications got scrambled and a couple of times I missed my evening meal. A monthly schedule was instigated. So starting in April, I will get to adapt to a third new house and their customs which keeps the routine from being too routine.
Bird Report:
Bulbuls, boubous and sunbirds. The sunbirds have been feeding 'in' the large blossoms of a common foxglove species just outside my classroom window.
How a chameleon can change more than just its color.
It was mentioned in conversation that chameleons were common in this area, yet I had not seen them now or on my first visit. So I asked the kids if they found one to let me know. It happened and I thought it strange that they came and took me to the chameleon. It was a bit of a walk and a chameleon might disappear in the mean time. Seems they could have picked it up and brought it to me. Well it was on the ground surrounded by somewhat apprehensive looking kids. They were more upset when I picked it up and put it on my sleeve. I walked back with it to get my camera and no one came with me. I didn't realize how strange that was at the time. The statement that 'I am going to get my camera' is usually the equivalent of the pied piper at work. So I took the pictures in peace without incident and left the reptile on th banana leaf which had served as my wildlife studio.
Somewhat later, several of the girls came to do a special cleaning for the board meeting. While hardly through the door, I began being quizzed regarding the whereabouts of 'that animal'. Sensing how much they disliked it, I lied and said that it had gotten away inside and would they please take care not to step on it. "Oh! is that it next to your head?"
So now I have a powerful defense. Several of the younger girls have had much fun informing me that they are witches and might harass me on my way home in the dark and have tried to hide behing the foliage to frighten me with much laughter. Nothing I could come up with could counter their determination, I was sure to be frightened. But now all I have to do is mention my friend, the chameleon, and I have way more protection than anyone would need. The night time paths are safe again.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Saturday, March 21, 2009
The First Day of Spring??
So you have passed your 1st day of spring. We've had spring-like weather here. A couple of weeks ago we went through a kite flying fad. Kites were made from strong grass stems a bit like bamboo, covered with plastic from shopping bags. Kite string comes from those large woven plastic bags by un-weaving and then tying the strips together.
Encourage by all this fun, Uncle Sam decides they need to see a box kite and I gather the materials. I have kite string! The grass stems seem a bit heavy and slippery, hard to tie firmly together. Several Zambian kite flyers have viewed my offering (as yet unfinished) and pronounced it "dead in the air" or something to that effect. It remains sequestered in a dark corner of my room. Its sort of box shaped. The stem supports are drying and getting lighter, but some have broken even before "feeling" the wind. The splints used to correct this don't look too encouraging. Overall, it has the look of a kite that has been flown for too many seasons- sort of like its maker. The kids here refer to their kites as the Zambian Air Lines.
We've just completed a full week of Ithaca weather, overcast and rainy. My laundry doesn't dry in time to be worn, getting to work with dry feet is a rare blessing, never mind the mud.
Improvements to the school yard should reduce the mud in the class rooms and make it look nicer and feel cooler in the hot season. The space between the wings of the school now have concrete walkways with grassy areas in between.
You lawn builders of the northern hemisphere might enjoy seeing how its done here. No seed, no fertilizer, no mower, almost no tools. The soil is worked up with a maddock. No smoothing the area with a rake, the rain does that. Rows of grass plants are placed in rows about 9 inches a part. It looks very much like short quack grass. Once in place a thin strip of rich-looking, black soil is put down in a narrow along the grass rows. The grass will spread to make a lawn.
Doing remedial math drills can be mind numbing for the students and the teacher. A few minutes of this can make me forget my times tables. Anything for some variety. We get so involved in memorization that we miss some connections.
This week we tool a break, sort of, from multiplication and did some simple division. Most knew that 10 divided by 2 = 5. But then had trouble with 10 divided by 2, even using hands and fingers. By repeatedly doing this and similar problems, one by one they each had an "ah-ha" moment and the right answers. We would conclud each problem as the above example with the multiplication equivalent: 5 x 2 = 10 and 2 x 5 = 10. Any of you have problems following this, I'll see you when i get home. Its nice to have a group of kids smiling together at what they 've learned.
Other incidents are for the teacher's smiles only. I have joked that some of the "finger-counting" math students might like to use their toes for bigger calculations. The other day because of the mud, some removed their shoes to keep from tracking in and sure enough one child was bent over, fingers wide-spread and counting toes! Definity not a time to offer the kid a "hand". I have threatened to make them wear mittens during tests and during drills we sometimes sit on out hands.
I had some late night visitors on Thursday, they slipped passed the our guards and seemed to head right for my house. Once there, they made sufficient noise to wake me. The sound seemed to fill the whole clinic as if it were the source of the noise.
It was an owl, a pair of Spotted Eagle-Owls (ID'ed by their vocalizations). Besides their calls, the males talons made a loud scratching sound on the metal roof. His calls were answered by his shyer mate who stayed some distance away. He may have been using our security light as an aid to hunting.
These birds, Bubo africanus, are listed as "common" in this area. However, these were anything but common birds! They had come to visit me.
Why dis I come to Zambia and why did I return? Have not answered that question to anyones safisfaction including my own. "That should be exciting" some offered. Well excitement by the month aint all its cracked up to be, especially at my age. I have really tried and failed to be excited by months of hand laundry. Its easier to get excited about wearing dirty clothes! And I really don't like to travel for much more than a day.
Perhaps its only fitting and fair that someone who spent so many years "giving UU's the opportunity" to do things they really didn't want to do, should be exiled to darkest Africa for a time, but not twice.
I am somewhat partial to the explaination of Garrison K. (can't spell his name) of P. H. Companion, who tell us that those folks who keep the church going by doing things such as serving on those thankless committees year after year, are not the best people in your organization. No, just the oppositie. They are the ones who are working off their guilt as best they can. I know about that. And don't tell me UU's don't believe in guilt, they may not believe in it but that doesn't stop they from living it. Yet I trust I am not just on an extended guilt trip at your expense.
Been reading Bill Moyers' 'Moyers on America'. He tells of his last TV conversation with Joseph Campbell who was dealing with the "requirement in the human psyche for centering in terms of deep principles."
"You're talking about a search for the meaning of life." Moyers said.
"No, no, no," J. C. answered, "I'm talking about the experience of being alive!" he explained. "People say thats what we're all seeking is a meaning for life.... I think that what we're seeking is the experience of being alive.... so that we actually feel the rapture of being alive."
A few lines from Tennyson's poem, Ulysses, follows:
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!
As though to breathe were life.
Blog pressing (and trying to deal with the rust) out of Africa,
Sam
Encourage by all this fun, Uncle Sam decides they need to see a box kite and I gather the materials. I have kite string! The grass stems seem a bit heavy and slippery, hard to tie firmly together. Several Zambian kite flyers have viewed my offering (as yet unfinished) and pronounced it "dead in the air" or something to that effect. It remains sequestered in a dark corner of my room. Its sort of box shaped. The stem supports are drying and getting lighter, but some have broken even before "feeling" the wind. The splints used to correct this don't look too encouraging. Overall, it has the look of a kite that has been flown for too many seasons- sort of like its maker. The kids here refer to their kites as the Zambian Air Lines.
We've just completed a full week of Ithaca weather, overcast and rainy. My laundry doesn't dry in time to be worn, getting to work with dry feet is a rare blessing, never mind the mud.
Improvements to the school yard should reduce the mud in the class rooms and make it look nicer and feel cooler in the hot season. The space between the wings of the school now have concrete walkways with grassy areas in between.
You lawn builders of the northern hemisphere might enjoy seeing how its done here. No seed, no fertilizer, no mower, almost no tools. The soil is worked up with a maddock. No smoothing the area with a rake, the rain does that. Rows of grass plants are placed in rows about 9 inches a part. It looks very much like short quack grass. Once in place a thin strip of rich-looking, black soil is put down in a narrow along the grass rows. The grass will spread to make a lawn.
Doing remedial math drills can be mind numbing for the students and the teacher. A few minutes of this can make me forget my times tables. Anything for some variety. We get so involved in memorization that we miss some connections.
This week we tool a break, sort of, from multiplication and did some simple division. Most knew that 10 divided by 2 = 5. But then had trouble with 10 divided by 2, even using hands and fingers. By repeatedly doing this and similar problems, one by one they each had an "ah-ha" moment and the right answers. We would conclud each problem as the above example with the multiplication equivalent: 5 x 2 = 10 and 2 x 5 = 10. Any of you have problems following this, I'll see you when i get home. Its nice to have a group of kids smiling together at what they 've learned.
Other incidents are for the teacher's smiles only. I have joked that some of the "finger-counting" math students might like to use their toes for bigger calculations. The other day because of the mud, some removed their shoes to keep from tracking in and sure enough one child was bent over, fingers wide-spread and counting toes! Definity not a time to offer the kid a "hand". I have threatened to make them wear mittens during tests and during drills we sometimes sit on out hands.
I had some late night visitors on Thursday, they slipped passed the our guards and seemed to head right for my house. Once there, they made sufficient noise to wake me. The sound seemed to fill the whole clinic as if it were the source of the noise.
It was an owl, a pair of Spotted Eagle-Owls (ID'ed by their vocalizations). Besides their calls, the males talons made a loud scratching sound on the metal roof. His calls were answered by his shyer mate who stayed some distance away. He may have been using our security light as an aid to hunting.
These birds, Bubo africanus, are listed as "common" in this area. However, these were anything but common birds! They had come to visit me.
Why dis I come to Zambia and why did I return? Have not answered that question to anyones safisfaction including my own. "That should be exciting" some offered. Well excitement by the month aint all its cracked up to be, especially at my age. I have really tried and failed to be excited by months of hand laundry. Its easier to get excited about wearing dirty clothes! And I really don't like to travel for much more than a day.
Perhaps its only fitting and fair that someone who spent so many years "giving UU's the opportunity" to do things they really didn't want to do, should be exiled to darkest Africa for a time, but not twice.
I am somewhat partial to the explaination of Garrison K. (can't spell his name) of P. H. Companion, who tell us that those folks who keep the church going by doing things such as serving on those thankless committees year after year, are not the best people in your organization. No, just the oppositie. They are the ones who are working off their guilt as best they can. I know about that. And don't tell me UU's don't believe in guilt, they may not believe in it but that doesn't stop they from living it. Yet I trust I am not just on an extended guilt trip at your expense.
Been reading Bill Moyers' 'Moyers on America'. He tells of his last TV conversation with Joseph Campbell who was dealing with the "requirement in the human psyche for centering in terms of deep principles."
"You're talking about a search for the meaning of life." Moyers said.
"No, no, no," J. C. answered, "I'm talking about the experience of being alive!" he explained. "People say thats what we're all seeking is a meaning for life.... I think that what we're seeking is the experience of being alive.... so that we actually feel the rapture of being alive."
A few lines from Tennyson's poem, Ulysses, follows:
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!
As though to breathe were life.
Blog pressing (and trying to deal with the rust) out of Africa,
Sam
Saturday, March 14, 2009
The week(s) that was.
Update on Margaret: We continued our work for a couple mornings. Kept her up to speed, she hasn't lost any ground. I have better learned the length of her attention span and when learning has come to an end.
Thursday, March 12th is Youth Day and a Zambian National holiday. What did some of our students do? Well NONE of them veged out on a couch in front of a TV or played computer games all day, NO. One team of 7, mixed ages spent most of the day painting the exterior of the clinic. With their "Tom Sawyer" enthusiasm, they tried (unsuccessfully) to enlist my help. Uncle Phillip was there to get them started and then left to attend his list of must do's. The kids with no further supervision and only a few encouraging words (Good job; or Looking good.) from Uncle Sam, kept at it through a hot day until about 3:30 and then cleaned up their brushes, rollers and work site. Throughout the whole time I heard not one word of anger, nor anyone hollering at another as to what they needed to be doing or to stop goofing off. Did hear some delightful singing and the monotonous (to my ear) drone of mostly electronic teenage (noise) music.
They had worked dilegently without the best equipment, an old heavy homemade ladder, for example, hard for me to move.
And finally, they did a wonderful job, no paint spills, very little splattering, no trampled flowerbeds. If you have any painting to be done, I reccommend them hightly. My only complaint: its hard for me to have a lazy day with all that good work going on just the other side of the wall. Other crews did the exteriors of two more houses and the interior of another.
Gardens pretty much surround the clinic. We have tomatoes which have gotten high enough to be tired up to overhead wires. Other tomatoes are about a foot high, which will come on later. Sweet potatoes and cabbage and maize is/are most of the sceenery from my windows. (for you damn Eng. majors)
You needn't think that you have a monopoly on winter activities. Why just the other day at the Arcades shopping mall at temperatures hovering around 80 F, well folks (not many) were skating. They were wearing hockey skates, perhaps Cornell is looking outside Canada? Notice I didn't say ICE skating. A 6 X 6m area was enclosed by metal rail (fence) and covered with heavy rubber mat covered in a white (not reminicent of ice) tough plastic. I didn't feel compelled to try it. Perhaps if they'd had figure skates.
Have had some cultural adaptation problems dealing with special care and compliments. Special care, specifically desserts, or better called 'after dinner treats'. After finishing a large Zambian meal, you are fairly stuffed with maize and not wanting anything more at least of the veg. catagory. But to show their appreciation of your just being here, before you can get away, out comes for examples: 1) a cob of boiled maize which most resembles field corn, I know this since I have eaten my share or what I thought was my share of field corn. It is served warm or cold sans butter, or anything else that might redeem it. You try to come up with the words to counter this 'gift' but their expectant faces foil your best attempt. Generosity overwhelms me and I look for anyone with whom I might share. 2. Or a medium sized boiled squash, halved. Fortunately they don't mind your throwing the seeed away. Again generousity is my only way through this. They call it in English a small pumpkin or in nyanja, mponda. 3. the other night after supper, thinking I was free of food, I was reading to the children when quietly without a word, there appeared in front of me a cup of steaming milk, tea bags, a bread and butter sandwich and a bowl of sugar. No one wanted to share! I hope that if you have dessert, that you can enjoy it to the FULLEST, as I do.
Finally, even though I am losing weight, the Zambians have a strange (to us)compliment when they haven't seen you for a time "Oh, you've gained weight." This goes back to when only the rich and well to do where able to put on weight. Perhaps its similar to things that I have said, "You're looking fat and happy!" which really doesn't refer to what one weighs. I asked Phillip if the compliment was any more common with the AIDs epidemic, AIDS here was called the 'wasting disease' before being "discovered" by modern science. "Interesting qestion." was his response.
Interesting questions are always more consuming than an answer.
Blog pressing out of Africa,
Sam
Thursday, March 12th is Youth Day and a Zambian National holiday. What did some of our students do? Well NONE of them veged out on a couch in front of a TV or played computer games all day, NO. One team of 7, mixed ages spent most of the day painting the exterior of the clinic. With their "Tom Sawyer" enthusiasm, they tried (unsuccessfully) to enlist my help. Uncle Phillip was there to get them started and then left to attend his list of must do's. The kids with no further supervision and only a few encouraging words (Good job; or Looking good.) from Uncle Sam, kept at it through a hot day until about 3:30 and then cleaned up their brushes, rollers and work site. Throughout the whole time I heard not one word of anger, nor anyone hollering at another as to what they needed to be doing or to stop goofing off. Did hear some delightful singing and the monotonous (to my ear) drone of mostly electronic teenage (noise) music.
They had worked dilegently without the best equipment, an old heavy homemade ladder, for example, hard for me to move.
And finally, they did a wonderful job, no paint spills, very little splattering, no trampled flowerbeds. If you have any painting to be done, I reccommend them hightly. My only complaint: its hard for me to have a lazy day with all that good work going on just the other side of the wall. Other crews did the exteriors of two more houses and the interior of another.
Gardens pretty much surround the clinic. We have tomatoes which have gotten high enough to be tired up to overhead wires. Other tomatoes are about a foot high, which will come on later. Sweet potatoes and cabbage and maize is/are most of the sceenery from my windows. (for you damn Eng. majors)
You needn't think that you have a monopoly on winter activities. Why just the other day at the Arcades shopping mall at temperatures hovering around 80 F, well folks (not many) were skating. They were wearing hockey skates, perhaps Cornell is looking outside Canada? Notice I didn't say ICE skating. A 6 X 6m area was enclosed by metal rail (fence) and covered with heavy rubber mat covered in a white (not reminicent of ice) tough plastic. I didn't feel compelled to try it. Perhaps if they'd had figure skates.
Have had some cultural adaptation problems dealing with special care and compliments. Special care, specifically desserts, or better called 'after dinner treats'. After finishing a large Zambian meal, you are fairly stuffed with maize and not wanting anything more at least of the veg. catagory. But to show their appreciation of your just being here, before you can get away, out comes for examples: 1) a cob of boiled maize which most resembles field corn, I know this since I have eaten my share or what I thought was my share of field corn. It is served warm or cold sans butter, or anything else that might redeem it. You try to come up with the words to counter this 'gift' but their expectant faces foil your best attempt. Generosity overwhelms me and I look for anyone with whom I might share. 2. Or a medium sized boiled squash, halved. Fortunately they don't mind your throwing the seeed away. Again generousity is my only way through this. They call it in English a small pumpkin or in nyanja, mponda. 3. the other night after supper, thinking I was free of food, I was reading to the children when quietly without a word, there appeared in front of me a cup of steaming milk, tea bags, a bread and butter sandwich and a bowl of sugar. No one wanted to share! I hope that if you have dessert, that you can enjoy it to the FULLEST, as I do.
Finally, even though I am losing weight, the Zambians have a strange (to us)compliment when they haven't seen you for a time "Oh, you've gained weight." This goes back to when only the rich and well to do where able to put on weight. Perhaps its similar to things that I have said, "You're looking fat and happy!" which really doesn't refer to what one weighs. I asked Phillip if the compliment was any more common with the AIDs epidemic, AIDS here was called the 'wasting disease' before being "discovered" by modern science. "Interesting qestion." was his response.
Interesting questions are always more consuming than an answer.
Blog pressing out of Africa,
Sam
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Margaret and the alphabet
I got to work with Margaret and Webster (came in a group of 5 students) yesterday, Friday morning. I got the 3 others working together with multiplication flash cards and blackboard work while I concentrated on Margaret and Webster.
Lets try something different. Using 3x5 cards, I made simple alphabet flash cards starting with "a" and going through the letter "h". Not setting our goals too high. Margaret had never gotten though "e" on our attempts to master the alphabet while working at the blackboard. We started slowly in alphabetic order and then jumbled them. For a time Webster was definitely ahead at naming the letters and giving an example of a word that started with that letter. But at some point I sensed a shift as Margaret began to hold her own and then slowly take the lead, we were past the letter "e" and flying. She was sounding more confident and less tentative. I needed to add more cards. Soon we were half way through the alphabet with the teacher fairly gushing with praise and approval. Something neither student had heard much of except in math.
We took a break and went to the board where they would write the letters as I called them out. That went well with Margaret still in the lead, most often he was checking on her answer before writing his own. We wrote our names and named the letters in them.
When asked, they opted to go back to the cards. We finished the alphabet pretty much, still having problems with "v", "u" and "y". They were flagging, so we went back to the board and were actually doing some spelling of words.
What a wonderful session, Webster and Margaret looked the happiest I'd seen them, not that vacant, puzzled stare they would have much of the time in class. Even the other 3 girls had refrained from fighting over their cards and chalk. I got their disapproval when I gave M. and W. a rub (eraser top) for their pencils as a reward, while they got nothing.
I remembered with some shame the previous feelings of anger that these kids were not responding as I thought they should to the best that I could give, when they had not been able to grasp what I was about. A teacher without patience is not a teacher.
But with all this a terrible realization hit me. This couldn't be a worse time for this to have happened. This was Friday preceding a week's vacation. It would be at least 10 days before we could review this again. All this would be forgotten by then. I am reminded daily of how much forgetting is involved in learning. Well, at least I learned that they could learn it.
Later I shared my experience with Ms. Mwanza who reminded me that Margaret is a resident and that I could work with her as much as I wished during the week ahead. Here I had been wondering what I was going to do. So I talked to the mother in her house and said I would be visiting at 9 am for a session each day with Margaret.
Many folks here and at home have had the idea that I came here mostly to teach Zambian children things like math, English, Science, etc. However some here have a completely different idea of why I am here. Many of the children seem to think (especially after supper) that I have come for them to teach me Nyanja. So my lessions have gotten pretty heavy, esp. the last few evenings. And just as my younger students, I forget much of what I'd "learned" the night before. I used to accuse them of "giving me lession" only to have a chance to laugh at me. But lately they have become more serious. It gets intense when you have 3 or 4 young teachers all instructing at once and trying to correct my pronounciation. But this all ends when one of them askes me to say the word for "witch". None can ever keep a straight face when I make a stab at "freetzee" and everyone desolves in laughter and I sneek towards the door and make my escape. Last night however, I was accompanied all the way home by no less than 4 screeching, very scary witches.
Blog pressing out of Africa,
Sam
Lets try something different. Using 3x5 cards, I made simple alphabet flash cards starting with "a" and going through the letter "h". Not setting our goals too high. Margaret had never gotten though "e" on our attempts to master the alphabet while working at the blackboard. We started slowly in alphabetic order and then jumbled them. For a time Webster was definitely ahead at naming the letters and giving an example of a word that started with that letter. But at some point I sensed a shift as Margaret began to hold her own and then slowly take the lead, we were past the letter "e" and flying. She was sounding more confident and less tentative. I needed to add more cards. Soon we were half way through the alphabet with the teacher fairly gushing with praise and approval. Something neither student had heard much of except in math.
We took a break and went to the board where they would write the letters as I called them out. That went well with Margaret still in the lead, most often he was checking on her answer before writing his own. We wrote our names and named the letters in them.
When asked, they opted to go back to the cards. We finished the alphabet pretty much, still having problems with "v", "u" and "y". They were flagging, so we went back to the board and were actually doing some spelling of words.
What a wonderful session, Webster and Margaret looked the happiest I'd seen them, not that vacant, puzzled stare they would have much of the time in class. Even the other 3 girls had refrained from fighting over their cards and chalk. I got their disapproval when I gave M. and W. a rub (eraser top) for their pencils as a reward, while they got nothing.
I remembered with some shame the previous feelings of anger that these kids were not responding as I thought they should to the best that I could give, when they had not been able to grasp what I was about. A teacher without patience is not a teacher.
But with all this a terrible realization hit me. This couldn't be a worse time for this to have happened. This was Friday preceding a week's vacation. It would be at least 10 days before we could review this again. All this would be forgotten by then. I am reminded daily of how much forgetting is involved in learning. Well, at least I learned that they could learn it.
Later I shared my experience with Ms. Mwanza who reminded me that Margaret is a resident and that I could work with her as much as I wished during the week ahead. Here I had been wondering what I was going to do. So I talked to the mother in her house and said I would be visiting at 9 am for a session each day with Margaret.
Many folks here and at home have had the idea that I came here mostly to teach Zambian children things like math, English, Science, etc. However some here have a completely different idea of why I am here. Many of the children seem to think (especially after supper) that I have come for them to teach me Nyanja. So my lessions have gotten pretty heavy, esp. the last few evenings. And just as my younger students, I forget much of what I'd "learned" the night before. I used to accuse them of "giving me lession" only to have a chance to laugh at me. But lately they have become more serious. It gets intense when you have 3 or 4 young teachers all instructing at once and trying to correct my pronounciation. But this all ends when one of them askes me to say the word for "witch". None can ever keep a straight face when I make a stab at "freetzee" and everyone desolves in laughter and I sneek towards the door and make my escape. Last night however, I was accompanied all the way home by no less than 4 screeching, very scary witches.
Blog pressing out of Africa,
Sam
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Blogging in March
This weeks was working with a small class doing remedial work and found that one child could not recognize the letters of the alphabet. Was able this time to set the others on a project giving me time with Margaret. We worked for most of the period on the first five letters, writing them and saying their names and then trying to identify them. We seemed to be making progress and had fallen into a routine that was giving her, I thought, some confidence. But then the period ended. I mentioned to her teacher what I had done and if she had others, I had a free period when I was available.
Next time Margaret and Webster came, just the two. We worked together, Webster was moving along and making good progress. Margaret seemed worse than when we first started. Got Webster to where he could work by himself without a lot of help and concentrated on Margaret again. By the end of the period, I was convinced that Margaret had problems identifying letter symbols. So I tried numbers and she had no problems what so ever. I have not given up on Margaret, not really sure as to how to continue.
We start with 'a' and say the letter and write the letter and repeat, several times. She now id's 'a' with no problem. Next we do 'b' and she has no problems, 'c' the same. About the time we get to 'd', we do a little review starting with 'a'. The real problem each time come with the letter 'e'. Which she most often calls 'g'. Came to me that a poorly written g and e can look similar if you reverse them laterally. Anyway, no amount of repetition of saying/writing seems to cement it in her memory. She can write her name, so since it contains an 'e' I thought maybe we can learn it, by learning the names of the letters in her name. Didn't work. So I am low on ideas and open to suggestions. Not sure if this blog has response capabilities. My email address is samuuman@yahoo.com. Thanks for your help.
Did a special class of 7th Grade on Charles Darwin/Evolution and 200th ann. of his birth, 150th ann. of his "On the Origins of Species". Very handy was the Sci. American purchased in Ithaca Airport just before leaving. That seems a long time and way away.
In science class were dissected a flower and identified and labeled the parts. It was not easy to find suitable local flowers for the class. Current local flowers are small or large composites. But my eye wondered to our garden flowers... There were large, 7 inch long white funnel-shaped blossoms in some numbers (I needed 24). Discreat inquires seemed to indicate that no one felt 'close' to them or might even notice they were missing. They worked wonderfully, easy to take apart and the parts were easy to see and draw. Kathe had told me they were Moonflowers, ala Georgia Okeeffe. The only problem is that I told the kids that a blossom should tell us something about the pollinators since that is partly what they are for. None asked me about this particular flower, but I have wondered. White, heavy sweet odor, could it be night blooming and bat pollination? Couldn't determine time of blossoming, blossoms were there in all stages. Moonflowers are supposed to be vine like plants, ours are low bushes and the flowers are at ground level, some are even on the ground and partially eatten by the ants(??). Any help out there, see email address above.
On trips into town one always sees many pedestrian carrying things, not always what you might expect. Large pieces of furniture are walking into Lusaka. From a distance they look much like Disney characters from Beauty and the Beast. A large bookcase seems to have its own legs as it is braced against someone's back. Yesterday, I was surprised to see a large bed rolling sideways down the edge of the road. As we drew near, I could see it was balance across a wheelbarrow. One would think that car-furniture accidents would be common. Saturday we witnessed a car-bicycle accident, almost no damage to the rider, wouldn't have given much for the bike.
Last night after dinner, I was persuaded to stay for Zambia-Tanzania Soccer match on TV. However, Zambian TV uses ads to fill in the space between broadcasts. They don't have many ads so after what seemed like a half hour of the same 3 ads over and over, I opted to go home and to bed. About 11 pm a loud cheer went up from all six houses. Took me a few seconds to figure out the source and reason for the sound. The outcome of the soccer match must have been good for Zambian.
It may be football to you, but its soccer to me. Anyone remember Laugh-In?
Blog pressing out of Africa,
Sam
Next time Margaret and Webster came, just the two. We worked together, Webster was moving along and making good progress. Margaret seemed worse than when we first started. Got Webster to where he could work by himself without a lot of help and concentrated on Margaret again. By the end of the period, I was convinced that Margaret had problems identifying letter symbols. So I tried numbers and she had no problems what so ever. I have not given up on Margaret, not really sure as to how to continue.
We start with 'a' and say the letter and write the letter and repeat, several times. She now id's 'a' with no problem. Next we do 'b' and she has no problems, 'c' the same. About the time we get to 'd', we do a little review starting with 'a'. The real problem each time come with the letter 'e'. Which she most often calls 'g'. Came to me that a poorly written g and e can look similar if you reverse them laterally. Anyway, no amount of repetition of saying/writing seems to cement it in her memory. She can write her name, so since it contains an 'e' I thought maybe we can learn it, by learning the names of the letters in her name. Didn't work. So I am low on ideas and open to suggestions. Not sure if this blog has response capabilities. My email address is samuuman@yahoo.com. Thanks for your help.
Did a special class of 7th Grade on Charles Darwin/Evolution and 200th ann. of his birth, 150th ann. of his "On the Origins of Species". Very handy was the Sci. American purchased in Ithaca Airport just before leaving. That seems a long time and way away.
In science class were dissected a flower and identified and labeled the parts. It was not easy to find suitable local flowers for the class. Current local flowers are small or large composites. But my eye wondered to our garden flowers... There were large, 7 inch long white funnel-shaped blossoms in some numbers (I needed 24). Discreat inquires seemed to indicate that no one felt 'close' to them or might even notice they were missing. They worked wonderfully, easy to take apart and the parts were easy to see and draw. Kathe had told me they were Moonflowers, ala Georgia Okeeffe. The only problem is that I told the kids that a blossom should tell us something about the pollinators since that is partly what they are for. None asked me about this particular flower, but I have wondered. White, heavy sweet odor, could it be night blooming and bat pollination? Couldn't determine time of blossoming, blossoms were there in all stages. Moonflowers are supposed to be vine like plants, ours are low bushes and the flowers are at ground level, some are even on the ground and partially eatten by the ants(??). Any help out there, see email address above.
On trips into town one always sees many pedestrian carrying things, not always what you might expect. Large pieces of furniture are walking into Lusaka. From a distance they look much like Disney characters from Beauty and the Beast. A large bookcase seems to have its own legs as it is braced against someone's back. Yesterday, I was surprised to see a large bed rolling sideways down the edge of the road. As we drew near, I could see it was balance across a wheelbarrow. One would think that car-furniture accidents would be common. Saturday we witnessed a car-bicycle accident, almost no damage to the rider, wouldn't have given much for the bike.
Last night after dinner, I was persuaded to stay for Zambia-Tanzania Soccer match on TV. However, Zambian TV uses ads to fill in the space between broadcasts. They don't have many ads so after what seemed like a half hour of the same 3 ads over and over, I opted to go home and to bed. About 11 pm a loud cheer went up from all six houses. Took me a few seconds to figure out the source and reason for the sound. The outcome of the soccer match must have been good for Zambian.
It may be football to you, but its soccer to me. Anyone remember Laugh-In?
Blog pressing out of Africa,
Sam
Saturday, February 21, 2009
What's happenin'
Writers' Club
Leo seems to have made me a special friend. He is one of the slower and older boys. Communication with him is difficult, seems to understand very little. Early on in class he was ignoring all that was going on, completely absorbed in a note of multi-folded paper. Since he doesn't read well, I wondered at his deliberation as I confiscated the missive and put it on my desk. This caused him some visible distress. Towards the end of the day, the note was still there, I called Leo in and returned it, saying he can have notes, but shouldn't read them during class. This oddly enough seemed to make him my friend and he'd go out of his way to pass by and greet me in the morning or on the playground.
Next thing I know, he'd joined the Writers' Club, one of the least communicative kids in the school. Well teachers wouldn't be teachers if they didn't believe in miracles. A few day ago, in class I was trying to extend Leo's attention span, finally went up to his desk, while speaking to him, he seemed to nod off. His response was of someone sleep deprived. I checked with other teachers and Ms. Mwanza, alerted them but we know almost nothing of his home life.
Next Writers' Club we were reporting on our assignment, an outline for our first story. Most of the boys had stories of a boy meets girl variety. We get to Leo's: A man comes home and beats his wife. She responds, "No problem."
How much of Leo's story is actually 'his story'?
Immigration Office (an obligatory story of anyone extending their visa in Zambia, I know I did one on my last visit here, sorry)
To keep one from getting bogged down in their problems, the Imm. Off. has a specail program called Visa Extension. You must drop whatever positive work you might be doing and go in person to get in line, sign in and then face a bewildering array of desks numbered from 1 to 16. This is completely different from my last visit. Do you do the desks in order, or just pick your lucky number? I knew this was my "shake down visit" where I'd learn everything I done wrong and what I must do on my next visit to be successful. I took careful notes this Friday afternoon. On Monday I gathered all the needed items, photos, xerox pass port pages, letters with proper letterhead and signatures and finally a bank check for the amount of the fee. With high hopes I presented the fruits of my labors (labours) on Monday. HA!! The bank check which I had gotten at some time and effort was correct for the fixed fee quoted on Friday, but was not even close to the Monday's fee. The only good news was that it was less. Rush back to the bank (45 min one way) wait in another line, explain the error, get yet another check while they decide what to do with the last one, back through the afternoon traffic while my stomach reminds me of no lunch, and arrive before the Imm. Off. closed. A Hollywood Movie finish, except that the Cashiers Office closes 1/2 before the rest, it being closed, there was no one to give the money too.
Since it seemed that the last step was to pay, Philip decides he can do that tomorrow on his own while I get back to teaching. Just before lunch (which would have been sausage and nshima) the driver hands me a note from Philip explaining that they took the check, but my face must be there for the final stamping of my pass port. Rush out, get to the office to find that I have just made it for their afternoon break. Finally get in and find a desk with no line. I am offerred a seat while the man at the desk goes through a tall stack of papers. After he complete about five, he kindly lets me know that this will be the last, before he gets to me. A short story later and he stamps my pass port. "When do I return?" I ask. Next month. I can hardly wait.
New Generator
A new large, heavy (2 tons) generator arrived yesterday. It is automatic, turns on at power outages and off when electricity returns. It is powerful enough to run our stoves, hot water heaters, etc. But,( there is alway a but) it needs to be moved to a yet to be poured concrete pad and then hooked up to our system. When? who knows.
Blog pressing out of Africa,
Sam
Leo seems to have made me a special friend. He is one of the slower and older boys. Communication with him is difficult, seems to understand very little. Early on in class he was ignoring all that was going on, completely absorbed in a note of multi-folded paper. Since he doesn't read well, I wondered at his deliberation as I confiscated the missive and put it on my desk. This caused him some visible distress. Towards the end of the day, the note was still there, I called Leo in and returned it, saying he can have notes, but shouldn't read them during class. This oddly enough seemed to make him my friend and he'd go out of his way to pass by and greet me in the morning or on the playground.
Next thing I know, he'd joined the Writers' Club, one of the least communicative kids in the school. Well teachers wouldn't be teachers if they didn't believe in miracles. A few day ago, in class I was trying to extend Leo's attention span, finally went up to his desk, while speaking to him, he seemed to nod off. His response was of someone sleep deprived. I checked with other teachers and Ms. Mwanza, alerted them but we know almost nothing of his home life.
Next Writers' Club we were reporting on our assignment, an outline for our first story. Most of the boys had stories of a boy meets girl variety. We get to Leo's: A man comes home and beats his wife. She responds, "No problem."
How much of Leo's story is actually 'his story'?
Immigration Office (an obligatory story of anyone extending their visa in Zambia, I know I did one on my last visit here, sorry)
To keep one from getting bogged down in their problems, the Imm. Off. has a specail program called Visa Extension. You must drop whatever positive work you might be doing and go in person to get in line, sign in and then face a bewildering array of desks numbered from 1 to 16. This is completely different from my last visit. Do you do the desks in order, or just pick your lucky number? I knew this was my "shake down visit" where I'd learn everything I done wrong and what I must do on my next visit to be successful. I took careful notes this Friday afternoon. On Monday I gathered all the needed items, photos, xerox pass port pages, letters with proper letterhead and signatures and finally a bank check for the amount of the fee. With high hopes I presented the fruits of my labors (labours) on Monday. HA!! The bank check which I had gotten at some time and effort was correct for the fixed fee quoted on Friday, but was not even close to the Monday's fee. The only good news was that it was less. Rush back to the bank (45 min one way) wait in another line, explain the error, get yet another check while they decide what to do with the last one, back through the afternoon traffic while my stomach reminds me of no lunch, and arrive before the Imm. Off. closed. A Hollywood Movie finish, except that the Cashiers Office closes 1/2 before the rest, it being closed, there was no one to give the money too.
Since it seemed that the last step was to pay, Philip decides he can do that tomorrow on his own while I get back to teaching. Just before lunch (which would have been sausage and nshima) the driver hands me a note from Philip explaining that they took the check, but my face must be there for the final stamping of my pass port. Rush out, get to the office to find that I have just made it for their afternoon break. Finally get in and find a desk with no line. I am offerred a seat while the man at the desk goes through a tall stack of papers. After he complete about five, he kindly lets me know that this will be the last, before he gets to me. A short story later and he stamps my pass port. "When do I return?" I ask. Next month. I can hardly wait.
New Generator
A new large, heavy (2 tons) generator arrived yesterday. It is automatic, turns on at power outages and off when electricity returns. It is powerful enough to run our stoves, hot water heaters, etc. But,( there is alway a but) it needs to be moved to a yet to be poured concrete pad and then hooked up to our system. When? who knows.
Blog pressing out of Africa,
Sam
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Life and Death
Most happy to announce the arrival of Shabach Mvula. (Philip & Maria's) Long awaited, assisted finally by a doctor and cesarian delivery. Both parents are recovering rapidly. Certainly hard on the mother. But I was most aware of the toll it took on the father, who in Zambia is kept at a good distance both physically and informationally.
Hospital staff are not open nor forthcoming regarding the status of ones spouse. Briefest of info offerred at long intervals. An expectant father lives via his cell phone waiting for THE call, but instead he is sharing his lack of current knowledge with innumerable friends who call for updates, only to be told, "No word yet." It took three days before we got the positive news.
On a completely opposite note, the father of one of our teachers died and to show our respects, faculty divided in half each going on consecutive days. The first group visited outside the home (house remains empty until after the burial) with family, friends and relatives. Meanwhile back at the school I was left with the 3rd grade class for a couple of hours at the end of the day. They had their assignment to finish their drawings of the "food groups" they had studied in science and then each was to select a story book and read it to the class. The drawing went fairly well with minor clashes over the least available color of crayons and the very slow student who was more intent on hording crayons than finishing his work.
Third graders have a hard time making decissions, especially those having to do with earth-shattering importance: which book will I read in front of the class? A few quickly grabbed the one they wanted, others though could not be satisfied, every book had to be inspected, then tossed aside. Several of this sort make the problem more acute. Finally the subsitute-teacher had to step in and decide for the last ones.
This is not the way I would have chosen to spend one of the hottest afternoons we've had. The readers were shy and seemed to know that if they spoke softly (mumbled) they might finesse the hard words.
The listeners couldn't hear enough to hold their attention. I got one of the better students to assist the "reader" while I tried to keep some decorum. But order slowly melted away in the heat like ice cream at a 4th of July picnic. I got to abreiviating the stories to a couple pages, finally the last student tried to read a story way beyond his skill level. I beleive there is a process in physics which describes going from order to chaos, need not review that here.
Suffice to say that it is sad when an old would-be sub teacher is defeated by a class of third graders. Doesn't leave much self-esteem. Yet I know, had it been filmed, it would be classic comedy. Took longer to unwind that evening.
Next day was my turn and we went to the funeral and grave site for the burial. The church was packed. The deceased was 78 with 11 children. We stood outside the church in a hint of shade. From there we drove to the cemetery. The intense African sun encourage me to take my hat. "No hats at a funeral" said Philip with some authority. Thinking this would not take long, I went bare headed.
Beside the grave was the usual piles of dirt but also freshly mixed cement. The casket was lowered and some dirt followed. Then the cement and finally the remainder of the dirt. By standers helped the two-man cemetery crew with this work. When all the dirt was used up, more had to be acquired near by to nicely round off the grave with a mound a couple of feet high. The minister spoke a few words and then folks moved off. It took about 45 min. Philip explained the cement was to discourage the coffin robbers. They can be resold as new, there being no used-coffin market.
We returned to school, I had to wait for one class period to end the day and run home to my aloe for a tender head.
A-peelingly yours,
Sam
Hospital staff are not open nor forthcoming regarding the status of ones spouse. Briefest of info offerred at long intervals. An expectant father lives via his cell phone waiting for THE call, but instead he is sharing his lack of current knowledge with innumerable friends who call for updates, only to be told, "No word yet." It took three days before we got the positive news.
On a completely opposite note, the father of one of our teachers died and to show our respects, faculty divided in half each going on consecutive days. The first group visited outside the home (house remains empty until after the burial) with family, friends and relatives. Meanwhile back at the school I was left with the 3rd grade class for a couple of hours at the end of the day. They had their assignment to finish their drawings of the "food groups" they had studied in science and then each was to select a story book and read it to the class. The drawing went fairly well with minor clashes over the least available color of crayons and the very slow student who was more intent on hording crayons than finishing his work.
Third graders have a hard time making decissions, especially those having to do with earth-shattering importance: which book will I read in front of the class? A few quickly grabbed the one they wanted, others though could not be satisfied, every book had to be inspected, then tossed aside. Several of this sort make the problem more acute. Finally the subsitute-teacher had to step in and decide for the last ones.
This is not the way I would have chosen to spend one of the hottest afternoons we've had. The readers were shy and seemed to know that if they spoke softly (mumbled) they might finesse the hard words.
The listeners couldn't hear enough to hold their attention. I got one of the better students to assist the "reader" while I tried to keep some decorum. But order slowly melted away in the heat like ice cream at a 4th of July picnic. I got to abreiviating the stories to a couple pages, finally the last student tried to read a story way beyond his skill level. I beleive there is a process in physics which describes going from order to chaos, need not review that here.
Suffice to say that it is sad when an old would-be sub teacher is defeated by a class of third graders. Doesn't leave much self-esteem. Yet I know, had it been filmed, it would be classic comedy. Took longer to unwind that evening.
Next day was my turn and we went to the funeral and grave site for the burial. The church was packed. The deceased was 78 with 11 children. We stood outside the church in a hint of shade. From there we drove to the cemetery. The intense African sun encourage me to take my hat. "No hats at a funeral" said Philip with some authority. Thinking this would not take long, I went bare headed.
Beside the grave was the usual piles of dirt but also freshly mixed cement. The casket was lowered and some dirt followed. Then the cement and finally the remainder of the dirt. By standers helped the two-man cemetery crew with this work. When all the dirt was used up, more had to be acquired near by to nicely round off the grave with a mound a couple of feet high. The minister spoke a few words and then folks moved off. It took about 45 min. Philip explained the cement was to discourage the coffin robbers. They can be resold as new, there being no used-coffin market.
We returned to school, I had to wait for one class period to end the day and run home to my aloe for a tender head.
A-peelingly yours,
Sam
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