First Day of School

I arrive at New State House a few minutes before 7:30 and triumphantly hand my crisp assignment letter to the Head Teacher, Mr. Masolola. He welcomes me (everyone here says, rather formally, “you are welcome”) and takes me to the teacher’s lunch room to get my assignments from the heads of department. I am assigned to a desk by the lunch room president and take my seat as he proceeds to introduce me to the other teachers present. The lunch room is loud and boisterous. Tables circle the room facing inward, and new arrivals tell stories in Chechewa that get the whole crowd rolling.

I’ve met Ann Ndigola, the head of the English department (which consists of herself and another part-time teacher) on a previous trip to the school and she vigorously welcomes me, says she is thrilled to have me take on Form 1 English Language and Literature and assures me that we’ll talk about books and curriculum once she gets back from teaching her first class of the day. Later on we commiserate about trying to get students to be excited about boring literature and her amazing maroon snake-skin pumps with pink metallic heels (this sounds totally tacky, but they’re actually great shoes). I’m excited that she may become a real friend and help me to get outside the expat bubble a little more.

Meanwhile, my table-neighbor takes me under his wing, gets me some social studies books and points me to the head of the humanities department to get my other assignments (Form 1 and Form 3 Social Studies). These books are filled with moralistic stories about men who are lured into town by evil cousins (who force them to become criminals) and young women who are deceived into becoming mistresses of rich men who turn out to have AIDS and dump them when they get sick. “What kind of entrepreneur was she? What was morally wrong with this kind of entrepreneurism?” What do you do if your brother hits and kills a man on the road while driving at night (while you’re in the car) and you don’t stop, but later see a MK20,000 reward for information about the death? Hmmm. Social Studies may be an adventure!

The current Form 1 English teacher peaces out when he learns I’ll be taking the class. (I think I’m only introducing myself and then he will come to teach so I can observe, but when I send a student to get him, he has gone to the bank.) The students and I get to know each other a little and practice reading comprehension. Thirty-eight kids in broken desks with only about 10 books among them, but we have a good time. Amazing how the same characters (class clown, know it all over-volunteerer, shy but smart, behind and afraid of failing so pretending to be zoned out) exist in classrooms the world over.

I realize in the afternoon that the reason there are so many teachers in the lunch room all the time is because there are actually only four people teaching at a time (one per form). The students from a given form stay in the same room all day and the teachers rotate. On the one hand, it seems incredibly wasteful compared to American teaching schedules and truthfully, if I were getting paid and were thus required to sit for five or six periods – out of nine – per day, I would probably go crazy. (As it is, I’ll probably just come and go for my own classes.) On the other hand, people get all their prep and marking done during the regular work day (what a crazy concept!) and seem to be having a great time doing it. Happy teachers means the school feels light and energetic even with the depressing lack of material resources.

At this point, the term is nearly over (only two weeks until exams), so I’m going to trade off teaching and observing with the current teachers for the next two weeks and then start in more seriously January 3^rd. Even still, it’s good to be back in the saddle!