Teaching day

Today during “family time” the mother asked if anyone had any problems of the day and one girl said that she’s falling behind in English because the teacher, Mike, talks to fast and she can’t understand him. Everyone here is competing to be fluent in English because that’s the tool that will set them ahead in school and allow them to succeed. They’ve learned that without English, they cannot continue onto university. Many of them come here not knowing a single word in English and they know they only have four years to become fluent so their rush to learn is very stressful. The American volunteers, like us, are the greatest tool for them to practice and even talking to a kid for a couple of minutes is extremely helping him/her.

After the long discussion, I passed out lollipops that I had brought for them. This gesture was something very trivial and small, something that would be passed over very lightly at an American school, but these girls were absolutely ecstatic and each one of them that could speak English got up in front of the group to thank me. One of the girls said, “Thank you so much for the candy because we now know that you will always be our friend and that you care and think about us. We will remember your face forever and think about you every day you are gone. You’re in our family now and we love you so much.” Knowing that something so trifling to me can mean so much to them shows how far an act of kindness can go here. After family time I hugged them all and when I walked out the door, all 16 of them came with me to walk me home. The people I have met here have truly warmed my heart. I am still in culture shock about how sweet and grateful these kids are for everything.

Today was a big day of teaching on my behalf. I tutored two girls in Biology, gave a 2 hour piano lesson, and helped a boy understand a story about Helen Keller from his text book. After five hours of hard, dirty construction work we split into groups to teach the workers at the village English. There’s about 50 workers and my class had about 30 of them squished in a small, dark room. The workers are so appreciative of this hour lesson because not only does it give them a break from working in the hot sun, but education here is valued so highly because most people cannot afford it and were giving these workers a chance to be educated for free, an opportunity that rarely exists here in Rwanda. My group is made up of mostly old men and two beautiful women that work in nicely woven skirts. Even when were working beside them doing construction, they call us “teacher” or “leader,” which feels strange coming from someone so much older than me but it still warms my heart. After our lessons, the workers try practice what I’ve taught them and continuously walk by my to ask me questions and practice their English. One of them said, “We are so happy to have a Muzungu [white person] working at our side. It has never happened before and it is funny. We like to tell our families about it.” During class today I tried to keep the class interesting by being very animated and using songs and rhymes to help them remember words. They laugh at me all the time and find it hilarious when I try speak in Kiyarwanda. (Today I learned that Amata means milk, Ennga means dog and Eenka means cow) Because their work is so mundane and exhausting, It’s nice to give them a break and give them something to smile about.

I also taught English today at the primary school in Rubona for the seniors’ Tikkun Olam project. The road to get to Rubona is always filled with adorable children roaming around because they only have school for a couple hours a day and the rest of the time they have nothing to do but wander. So on the way to the school, a small congregation of kids starting following me and yelling out all the English they knew- “good morning”, “How are you?” and “What is your name?” When we finally got to the school, an even bigger possy of kids bombarded me and trailed behind me for my entire stay. The little girls were fighting to win over my hand, and the boys were jumping on me and pulling my hair. It was a ridiculous sight to see. We broke up into classes and my class had about 50 kids with one teacher. The room was dark, dusty, and consisted of only wooden desks and a blackboard. They each had a single notebook made out of recycled newspaper where they copied the days of the week written on the board. I taught them the days of the week in a catchy tune that I learned from volunteering at a Jewish preschool in America, and although they absolutely could not pronounce “Thursday” they got the generally idea. After the days of the week song, one of the students from Agahozo went to the head of the class to lead so I sat in the middle of the classroom on a bench with the kids. This was a terrible, stupid idea. Everyone around me was so distracted-pulling at my hair, pinching my elbows and arms, tugging at my skirt and trying to sit on my lap. I couldn’t shoo them away or yell at them because a) they are too damn adorable and b) I guess you can’t blame them for being so interested because I’m the first white person they’ve ever seen. I felt bad for disturbing the class that the students from Agahozo were trying to run, but after a while the kids got used to me and eventually focused on the lesson. After class, we walked back to the village and about 30 kids left school to follow me and walk me home. Goats and chickens walking freely, babies strapped on backs, little kids drifting around and playing in sand, four people stacked on one bike, workers throwing mud at the mud huts and old ladies with big jugs of water balancing effortlessly on their head. This is Eastern Africa. I love it.