Reluctance

I have been reluctant to write in my blog because I am going through a ‘stage.’ I wonder if it’s normal to get to the point where you just don’t want to go anywhere. I am so tired of being a novelty, so tired of being expected to practice English with everyone on the road and very tired of being poked and being asked for money or to sponsor someone to study abroad.

So, I sort of hide out in my cozy, little house, play my music loud and sing along. I have a favourite playlist now that includes Kiss, Daniel Powter, Steppenwolf, Poison, B.T.O., Aerosmith, Bob Seger, Guns ‘n Roses, The Cult and Jimi!!! I usually wake up to “Old Time Rock and Roll.” I just love his voice.

But I digress. Back to my situation. It’s not all bad, not even close. Best moments:

I walk over to the Byumba school and all the little pre-schoolers race towards me with arms outstretched, wanting a full-on hug.

My choir surprises me by knowing the harmony part to the ABC Song and is also able to sing a round in three parts. (They are grade 2 and 3).

My friend, Penina, has taken the bull by the horns and is going to arrange the school visits I have yet to make.

Florian, my young intellectual, and I are re-watching the LOST series with great conversations regarding the plausibility or the ridiculous.

Florian reports that the children where he is now staying are constantly singing, “Go Tell It On The Mountain” which is the choir song we plan to perform, gospel style, at Christmastime.

My mini-workshops have been met with enthusiasm and especially the MATH BINGO. It was a real hit!

On June 16th I co-facilitated a workshop with a colleague in Nekarambi. Dorothy talked about child-centred methodology and I talked about learning styles. We then demonstrated various participatory methods in hopes the teachers would be able to adapt the methods to their subjects.

This was my first big workshop and boy, did I choke. First and worst realization was that they were NOT understanding me. Spinning my wheels searching for the simplest of phrases and then still getting blank looks. I cut my spiel short and we got on to the actual demonstrations.

These went much better. I taught a Prepositions of Place Game, (race), that I devised in Japan. In spite of the fact that some of the teachers didn’t really know the prepositions, they loved the game.

I also taught MATH BINGO which I think was their favourite next to singing, "The Bear Went Over the Mountain!" They sure love to sing.


The best thing that we did, though, was to make slates. We found a sheet of plywood, had it cut into 16 pieces, painted both sides with blackboard paint, (who knew there was such a thing!), and edged them with good-old duct tape. The beauty of slates is that you can pose a question to your five or six groups of five in which each child has a number. You then say, “Student 5, what is the answer? They write it on the slate and hold it up for their classmates to see. Students do the checking, not the teacher, and explain the answer if a group gets it wrong. It was brilliant, (as the Brits constantly say!!). I plan on making slates here and hopefully sell the idea to my various schools.

I’ve been concentrating on two schools, Rukizi and Nyande.

Friday I went back to Rukizi to teach a model lesson on Active to Passive sentences. Again, had my eyes opened. First, it didn’t seem like they were understanding me, (Grade 6, who should have SOME English!), second, they were too shy to respond and third, the horrifying realization that they are not accustomed to discovering how something works, they only know how to listen, write it down and then regurgitate it. Believe me, I was sweating.

After forty minutes, I think they got it but we didn’t have time to practice in groups in a type of a game. Arsene is going to review the lesson with them and when I return next week, we will play the game to evaluate their understanding.

This particular day I was up at 5:30 so I could catch the Virunga bus to Rukomo at 7:00. From Rukomo I take a ‘sardine bus’ to Rukizi. Made the mistake of sitting in the back of the bus where all the gas fumes collect but didn’t have to share a two-seater with three other people. I arrived at the school around 8:00, did my thing and THEN, was taken to Pascaline’s house to see her three-day-old twins, John and Janet. So tiny and adorable. They served me Fanta which is quite an honour considering how poor they are.

At 12:30 I walked down the hill to the highway and waited for a mini-bus to come by. I waited and waited. Would you believe, I waited until 2:30. Got home at 3:45, having missed choir.

I’ve been back to the High Commissioner’s residence for further warden training and lovely, quiche lunch. I now have four people to be responsible for, two Quebecoise nuns and two other NGO volunteers. I now must try and meet them. I will be issued a two-way radio as soon as they figure out how to make contact with people high up in the hills. I can’t help but wonder if the Embassy really is preparing us for a real problem, i.e. the upcoming elections in August.

It is now the dry season and the verdant, green hills now have a brown hue to them. The lovely volcanoes are not to be seen because of the dust in the air. Sometimes it’s hard to breathe and my skin is like parchment. Found some glycerine at one of the shops up top yesterday so will see if that helps. At least the dreaded insects have subsided and I only have the occasional moth or large-type hornet that sounds like a buzz-saw.

There is a large strawberry patch in my compound but very few strawberries, even though I see lots of blossoms. Anyone out there know how to get the plants to produce more strawberries?

The birds are chattering away, the white-bibbed crows are dancing on my roof and the sun is shining lazily on my laundry. Think I’ll read a bit; Florian has given me “Shake Hands With the Devil” by Romeo Dallaire, to read. It is exceptionally well-written.
 

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