Altonodji

I haven’t written too much about my actual job here in Chad, and it is time I remedy that. So, how is life at Village Altonodji?

To put it plainly, I have a newfound respect for teachers. I can hear my English-teacher-mother guffaw at that but it is too true to hide. I would like to publically apologize to every teacher for talking during their classes, zoning out in a lecture, or shooting paper balls across the overhead projector to see shadows whiz by on the screen. I did not understand how frustrating it is to speak and not be listened to. Granted, I am teaching a class that literally cannot understand the words coming out of my mouth 80 percent of the time, but still…pretend!

Teaching can be hard for reasons in and out of my control. When my class seems to be headed in a downward spiral I can usually blame the approaching chaos to these things:

1.      Lack of resources – There are no tangible objects such as visual aids to capture the attention of young minds. I have complained about this before so I won’t rant for too long, but without posters, pictures, video clips, powerpoint presentations, or even a simple textbook, it is very hard to keep 11 to 16-year-old children occupied for a full two hours. I made photocopies of a text about a woman cooking lunch that had pictures of the cooking progression. I had to literally rip the copies out of my students’ hands to get them back because they all wanted to keep them. They could color in the woman with their blue pens and draw pictures on the blank back side. The excitement over a piece of paper made me sad.

2.      Lack of experience – This is where I blame myself a little bit. I have had absolutely zero educational training and it sometimes is painfully obvious. The first month of school was pretty rough for me because I had no idea what I was doing. Since then I have learned boatloads about how to prepare for a class and how to control 50+ children, although there is still a long way to go. I have walked out of a classroom and realized fifteen minutes later that the grammar I wrote on the chalkboard was faulty. It is one thing to speak English, but another thing entirely to try to teach it. It’s a working progress.

3.      Outside forces – This is where I blame everything but myself. When there are three kids sharing a desk and a pen (because the second one stepped on his blue pen and the third child left his at home) it is hard to focus. It is even more difficult to learn when there are 20 children standing outside the open windows, chatting and making faces. Then it is lunch time and everyone is hungry, thirsty, and sweating from being trapped in 90 degree heat. By 1:00 pm on Saturday, no one is more ready to escape that classroom than the white teacher.

4.      Culture/education systems – Children in Africa learn by memorization instead of critical thinking. Every new idea takes a long time to sink in, and review is vital. What should take one class period will take weeks. The Chadian school system believes that homework should only be assigned twice a semester (!) and their grading system depends on it. Couple this with only a two classes a week and you can see why the retention level is so low.

     In addition, cultural differences play their own part. Chadian time means that sometimes classes start late and end early. Some students come late and some are absent for a week at a time. I have also noticed that Chadians never whisper. Even in church, there is a low rumble in the back of the building as one person comments to another. This drives me crazy! I have certain voices memorized in my classes by now so I don’t even need to turn around in order to scold someone for talking.

5.      Adolescents – Let’s face it, I am teaching teenagers and that is not an easy job. In the classroom more than anywhere else I have discovered that humans are the same no matter what continent they call home. Some of my students want to learn, listen attentively, and work hard. Then some other students don’t want to learn, don’t listen, and spend the class period taking apart their pens. Emotions are up and down – they laugh, they cry, they get angry for no apparent reason. Insecurity is rampant. Farts are just as funny to Chadian boys as they are to American boys (and some American teachers (although I held back my immature smile as everyone else held their noses)). And even in Africa, boys show that they like girls by stealing their school supplies, and girls show that they like boys by tattling about it. I have to fight through the haze of hormones in order to teach the present progressive tense. It is a wonder high schoolers ever learn anything at all.

I started reading by myself...

     I bet some of you are thinking, “That sounds absolutely miserable,” and some days it can be. As I said, some of these problems are out of my control, some are personal, and some come with teaching in this part of Africa. I have days, like any other teacher (I hope), where I come home feeling like I failed completely as an educator. Lesson plans go awry, time runs out, and two of the boys in the back row have their heads on their desks because they are fighting malaria. These are the days when I silently apologize to MCC, and ask God what exactly I am doing in the middle of Africa.

     Then I have golden days that outshine all the dim ones. Everyone at Altonodji knows me as Miss Kelsey (or the easier “Miss”) and they are all eager to shake my hand in the mornings. Sometimes they will bypass all the other teachers to get to me. Everyone, including my fellow teachers, wants to greet me in English (“Good morning Kes-lee. How?”) Often the clamor that overwhelms me when I enter the classroom is everyone simultaneously trying out their latest English phrase, which frustrates me and makes me proud at the same time. Students are always curious about my life and love it when I try to speak in French or Ngumbaye. Everyone is always eager to assist me, whether it is washing the chalk off my hands, carrying my backpack to class, or helping me spit out a french sentence. I have felt incredibly loved and cared for at Altonodji.

You have already seen a picture from this class, but here is another one!

    The best part is the laughter. It is extremely easy to make my students (all students, really) laugh, and there is not a more beautiful sound. Some are high and giggly, some are low and loud, some crack with voice changes and some hit multiple octaves, but they all come from the soul and make me smile no matter how disobedient someone is being. I wish I could capture all the smiles and laughs in a jar and carry them home with me, because I know I will miss them an incredible amount.

     I feel lucky to be here. I think this is a special place that has so much potential. I think the students here have potential, and I am positive some will go on to do great things. What an opportunity to be part of their growing experience! Each day that goes by is one less that I have to share with them and that thought is a depressing one. So, I am determined to turn my lemons into lemonade on the sour days, and savor all those sweet hours where everything falls into place.

Blessings to all of you back at home. I am ever grateful for you prayers, words of encouragement, and simple interest in my life in Chad.