Heritage Day Pictures

For all of you who aren't friends with my on Facebook, here is a belated post of the pictures from my welcome celebration and Heritage Day celebration.

A gold star

Over the last few weeks I have been feeling kind of down. For the most part I spend my days sitting in the staff room doing nothing, or sitting in the classrooms also doing nothing. As an active person all this sitting around doing nothing has made me feel a little worthless. I didn’t come all the way to Africa to not do anything, so it has been frustrating to say the least. After talking to other volunteers it became apparent that they are having similar experiences and feeling about this integration period. Our schools are on their last term and are obviously anxious for break in December, which seems to mean they don’t want to do a lot of work with us. This is understandable on some level, but at the same time it is discouraging.

So today I was just hanging out in my room being bored and lazy when my grade 4 host sister came for some math help. To be honest I was not all that excited to see her and her younger sister at my door, but I can’t say no to these kids when they want help, especially Amanda. Amanda and her sister Snalo are orphans that were taken in by my host mother. Although they are treated very well, you can tell that they are seen as a little bit lower than the other kids in the family. Amanda does most of the laundry and cleaning for the whole family, while Snalo helps where she can because she is younger. It kind of breaks my heart, so no matter how I am feeling, I never turn Amanda away when she wants help, and her sister always seems to tag along. Today was no different, and even though I really didn’t feel like tutoring, I opened the door wide so they could come on in.

Today the topic was multiplication of multiple digit numbers, which I have yet to see be taught in her class. I have sat in on the grade 4 math class for the last two weeks, and the closest thing I have seen to teaching multiplication was having the learners count by 3s, 5s, and 10s. So multiplying 20 x 40 would be a challenge to say the least. We started slow. I drew out the problems in a grid, stacking the numbers on top of each other, and then asking her what each number times the other number was. After some finger counting she could usually tell me the right answer of 4 x 5 or 3 x 6, but she had no idea where to put those numbers, especially when it came to multiplying 40 by the 2 in 20. After a million examples of me showing her how to carry numbers, and what row to put the answers in, she did every single one of her homework problems right!! Two hours and a whole lot of encouragement later and she could multiply multiple digit numbers by herself, and I couldn’t have been more proud. I decided that now would be the perfect time to break out the gold stars!

I have never seen a little girl so excited to get a sticker and a high five, and it completely lifted my mood. For the first time in a few weeks I actually feel like I am doing something and that I have something to offer the kids here. It is amazing what a little time and encouragement can do. Since I was in such a good mood I decided that I would reward both Amanda and her sister by letting them color in my room away from the rest of the kids in the house. So I broke out the crayons that have so kindly been sent by my friends and family and drew them both beach pictures with a palm tree in the center (for those of you who don’t know, that is the absolute only thing I can draw besides lopsided stick figures). An hour later they are still using every color crayon in the box to fill in their pictures, and I couldn’t be happier sitting here watching them. Who knew one gold star and a box of crayons could make such a difference to me, as well as them. 

Things the make me look back and laugh

Today I wanted to write down some of the funny things I’ve experienced here in South Africa. Sometimes it’s the little things that get you through the day, or make you look back and laugh. Most of my experience so far have been the kind that suck in the moment, but thinking back make me laugh like crazy, so I wanted to share some of those random moments that I have experienced so far.

First off, I have a new hatred of turkeys. Before coming to South Africa the only time I thought about turkeys was when I was thinking how delicious my turkey sandwich was. They were just the animal that was sacrificed so that I could enjoy a delicious Thanksgiving dinner, but now my views of this seemingly innocent animal has drastically changed. My host family happens to own the most evil turkey in the world. Everything is afraid of this giant white bird, including me. When I first arrived I noticed the smaller children running from the bird, but thought they were just playing. Now I understand that the bird owns the yard, and we are trespassing on its turf. If anything gets too close it will puff up its feathers and chase you down. If you don’t run fast enough you will end up with little gashes down your legs from the turkey’s evil little beak. Even the dogs run from this devil animal. The best part about this not so fun game of chase is that the outhouse seems to fall right in the middle of the turkey’s hunting ground. I can usually make it there without incident, it’s getting out that seems to be the challenge. I am pretty sure that it hides in waiting while you make the trek to the toilet, plotting its attack, and then once you’re inside it moves into striking distance. Sometimes it will even stick its creepy little head through a small hole in the door trying to get to you. This is when I like to throw open the door really fast, smacking it in the face, and then make a run for it. How sad is it that I am being bullied by a turkey?

Along with learning to play dodge the turkey, I am now playing dodge the marriage proposals. Apparently being tall and blond in this country means that you would make the perfect wife. I’m pretty sure that half my teachers are already planning the wedding between me and one of their sons/cousins/brothers. I mean I understand that I am an exceptionally awesome person, but I feel like people should want to meet me before they decide they want to marry me. Going shopping has now become a test of my negotiation and communication skills. Word seems to have gotten around that I am living in a village close by, and that I would make an excellent partner, because people seem to just know me in the stores. People who I have never met will call me by name, and then spend the next ten minutes trying to convince me to give them my number, or marry their random relative. I always thought that I was pretty good when it came to persuading people or communicating my opinions, but no matter how I tell these people that I am not interested, they just don’t seem to give up. In any other situation I might be impressed by their tenacity, but now it’s just annoying. So when telling them no seemed to fail, I did what any good person would do, I started lying. The minute I get off the taxi in my shopping town I become Mrs. Kelsey Lynch, and I have a very handsome husband working back home in America. The small sliver band that I normally wear on my thumb moves to my ring finger, and I like to talk with my hands as much as possible so that people might catch a glimpse of my fake wedding ring. It is amazing how much easier it is to convince people that I am married than convince them I’m not interested in marrying a random guy who approached me by the frozen chicken. Nothing says romance like a bunch of frozen chicken heads and feet. I’m not going to lie, if anyone asks to see a picture of my imaginary husband, you better believe that I’m going to show them a picture of Johnny Depp. If I’m going to have a fake marriage it might as well be to the man of my dreams, right?

Aside from avoiding devil birds and random marriages, I have finally mastered the public transportations, well almost mastered. When I first arrived in my little village, the taxis scared the crap out of me. One; no one speaks English, two; the cars look like they might fall apart if you kicked it too hard, and three; they stack you in the back like sardines. However, it is the only way to get anywhere in this country, so I sucked it up, and I figured out where to get the taxi to my village, and even made friends with some of the drivers so they would let me sit in front if I got their early enough. Well today I did not get there early enough, so it was either wait who knows how long for another taxi to come and fill up, or cram in the back with everyone else. Now, when you try to imagine a taxi here, think about a Ford Ranger truck with a small camper on the back. There are small wooden benches along the edges over the wheel wells, and then they cram at least 12 people along with all of their groceries in before closing up the truck bed and heading home. In the best situation it is uncomfortable, and in the worst situation it is extremely painful. Today was one of those worst situations. First off, I am way taller than most women in this country, so I am usually the only one hunched over trying to avoid smashing my head into the roof when we hit pot holes. It also means that I am the only one with my knees pushed up into my chest in order to make room for the 5 kg bag or rice the lady across from me wants to put on the floor. Today it was packed more than usual with huge bags of rice and corn meal, so I ended up having to twist my left leg under my right and pinch it between a bag of rice and a box of who knows what. By the time we got to the village, which is only about 15 minutes away, my whole leg was numb. When the driver lowered the hatch I was flooded with relief at the chance to get out and walk the rest of the way home. Unfortunately I was not prepared to move when I wanted to. When I stepped down with my right leg I figured I would just walk off the numbness of my left and turned to make my way home. I then stepped with my left leg, shifted all my weight on to it, and went straight down. I totally ate it right next to a taxi full of people who already looked at me like I was a crazy person. Luckily the driver helped me up before he started laughing, and it took at least a full two minutes of swinging my leg around before I could even limp home. It was embarrassing to say the least, and I guarantee it will only be a matter of hours before the whole village knows that the white girl fell on her face in the middle of the road. On the bright side, I’m sure it will be a great conversation starter over the next few weeks.  

A little clarity

Today I had a very interesting conversation with a few of my teachers. I finally got into the classrooms today at my permanent school to observe some of the grade 4, 5, and 6 teachers. After spending some quality time in the staff room over these past few weeks it was nice to have a change of scenery, even if it was just into a dirty classroom. I sat through four difference classes, with four different teachers, and it took each one less than ten minutes before they made a comment about how lazy or naughty the learners here are. From my observation the learners weren’t acting any different than students in the US do, but there was a pretty obvious different in knowledge and skill compared to US students in the same grades. Learners in the back would chat occasionally, but other than that there were no outrageous behavior problems, but if you talked to the teachers you would think that they were running wild like Lord of the Flies.

The differences became obvious when the teacher started asking questions, or asked the learners to read aloud. The majority of the grade 5 English class could hardly read, and learners in the grade 6 math class were still using their fingers to count out 3 x 4. When teachers asked comprehension questions about a short story that was just read in the grade 4 English class, it was pretty obvious the learners had no idea what they were even being asked let alone what the answer was. All of these problems the teachers contribute to the laziness of the students, and that they aren’t serious about school. This bothered me, but as the newcomer, and with my lack of teaching experience I didn’t feel that I was in a place to argue.

Later, in the staff room, a few of the teachers, who either weren’t going to their classes or who had a break period, asked me how teachers in the US get learners to not be lazy and to be respectful. I tried to think back to my many years in school and think about what teachers did to contain a class. Besides a few class clowns and those few students that didn’t want to do their homework no matter what, I don’t remember ever having really bad behavior problems in classes. When I told them that they asked how we did it. Without really thinking about it I told them that’s how we were raised. They of course all looked at me like they were confused, which gave me a moment to really think about it before I tried to explain. I told them that from a pretty young age we are told what is right and wrong, and we hear the word no pretty often. Our parents teach us to respect ourselves and each other and that when we screw up they are the ones we have to answer to. I tried to explain that we reward good behavior and that with bad behavior you lost your privileges. It was how we were raised from the get go, and it’s how our schools function as well. As I explained I realized that for me, it always came back to things my parents taught me.

As I walked home I started to compare the differences that I am seeing here in South Africa to my experience growing up in the US. From the day that I arrived here I have been told about how this country is family focused and that the US is focused on the individual, but I no longer agree with that fully. Today made me realize that while South Africa puts more importance on the family than we do in the US, we put way more importance in children, and I think that is where the biggest differences arise. In the US a family revolves around the child, but here it revolves around the elders. In the rural areas children are given very little respect, but more responsibility than they can handle. While our parents are teaching us to read parents here are teaching their kids how to wash and clean. For many of use, our parents are extremely involved in our lives and our education, but I don’t see that at all here. I did well through school because my parents supported and encouraged me. They were the ones who taught me to read and write, how to ride a bike, how to swim, and told me over and over again that I can do anything I set my mind too. Children here don’t get any of that, and I think it really shows when it comes to their education. My education started at home, and throughout the years it was supported at home. If I didn’t have that who knows where I would have started or ended up. In my village children don’t start to learn to read until they start school. It’s probably the first time most of them have even opened a book. From there they don’t begin learning English until grade 4, where they are magically expected to be able to read perfectly in a second language they just started. If my high school Spanish teacher had given me a book in Spanish after two months of class and asked me to summarize it I would have laughed and thought she was crazy. No wonder kids are struggling. But if the teachers and the parents have no expectations for their students or they expect them to fail, then why should the student care anyways?

It makes me very grateful to have parents that pushed and encouraged me. It’s amazing what you can do when someone else believes in you and is there to support you through life.