I arrive at the school at around 7:15, after stopping in the middle of a main road to wait for a pack of bulls to cross to the other side. I sit in the office with the Malmulaxaa and Khadar, the English teacher at General Daoud. Both men carry meter long wooden sticks. After a short assembly in the school playground, during which students recite a verse from the Qu'ran, classes begin.
6A. 8A. 8B. Recess. 7A. 7B. My schedule for the day. A few minutes before my very first class, Khadar explains the first lesson plan: to write, read and explain the story of the Fox and the Crocodile. He assigns an Alifla; a male student in each of my classes to tell him if other students are being disruptive.
Crowded on wooden benches, the boys, which constitute two-thirds of the class, sit on one side of the classroom while the girls sit on the other. The lessons go surprisingly well although the occasional drop-in by Khadar, wooden stick in hand, may have played a substantial role. After running out of chalk halfway through one of the lessons, I asked my students if they watched the news. Most nodded and began whispering to their neighbors. A girl in the back of the class explained the victory in Egypt. The bell rings for recess. I walk around the school looking for a school library, to no avail.
The seventh graders proved to be the toughest group. One student yells what I presume to be an insult from the back of row and the Alifla runs out of the class. Khadar arrives, calmly walks to the back of the class, and begins repeatedly hitting the student. Having heard stories of discipline in African schools, I was unphased by the commotion and continued with the lesson.
At eleven o'clock, the school day is done and I'm introduced to a few teachers in the staff room. Over sambuusas and tea, a former English teacher tells me not to be discouraged. I thank him for his advice and walk through the playground, camera in hand, with a group of children trailing behind me.
6A. 8A. 8B. Recess. 7A. 7B. My schedule for the day. A few minutes before my very first class, Khadar explains the first lesson plan: to write, read and explain the story of the Fox and the Crocodile. He assigns an Alifla; a male student in each of my classes to tell him if other students are being disruptive.
Crowded on wooden benches, the boys, which constitute two-thirds of the class, sit on one side of the classroom while the girls sit on the other. The lessons go surprisingly well although the occasional drop-in by Khadar, wooden stick in hand, may have played a substantial role. After running out of chalk halfway through one of the lessons, I asked my students if they watched the news. Most nodded and began whispering to their neighbors. A girl in the back of the class explained the victory in Egypt. The bell rings for recess. I walk around the school looking for a school library, to no avail.
The seventh graders proved to be the toughest group. One student yells what I presume to be an insult from the back of row and the Alifla runs out of the class. Khadar arrives, calmly walks to the back of the class, and begins repeatedly hitting the student. Having heard stories of discipline in African schools, I was unphased by the commotion and continued with the lesson.
At eleven o'clock, the school day is done and I'm introduced to a few teachers in the staff room. Over sambuusas and tea, a former English teacher tells me not to be discouraged. I thank him for his advice and walk through the playground, camera in hand, with a group of children trailing behind me.
Don't be discouraged you are really making a difference. In the very near future, these kids will be attached to you and everything will be very well. Keep un the good work and some pictures of the school and the classrooms if allowed
ReplyDeleteI wonder what that kid said loooool.
ReplyDeleteHi Amal
ReplyDeleteYou could write a book about this experience.
Do the kids speak with you in English or Somali ?
Take care little sister.
^^ definitely I book I'd buy! This blog is amazing. Please post regularly! keep up the great work sis
ReplyDeleteThanks for all the comments! The kids speak to me in Somali, except for the occasional "Good morning" and "How are you", but I speak in English and then explain in Somali, but discipline is always in Somali lol.
ReplyDeleteThanks you doing great work to your people, i would like my people stop hitting students it is not good at all, it was almost close to 25 years ago when a history teacher cowardly punished me by hitting a stick and tube, this become unforgettable to me up to now.
ReplyDelete