Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Don't Forget to Bring your Hoe

After two months of idle ‘relaxing’ and exploring, Michael and I have finally begun teaching. Michael is teaching Biology and Math to the first years (our Freshies) and I am teaching Biology to the third years and chemistry to the youngins. The experience has been great so far, yet mind awakening.
            Primary school here in Tanzania is mandatory and free for all children, while secondary school (the equivalence to our high school) is optional only if you pass the primary school test… which covers everything you have ever learned in 7 years of school primary school. If you pass the test, and if you can afford it, then are allowed a secondary education.     
            In order to continue with their education, there is a number of things the students must bring: A hoe or machete, their own desk and chair, a 20 pound bag of corn kernels or flour, their 4 piece uniform, a bucket, fees for all their food, the guard, and misc. school fees (about 30,000 - 40,000 shillings), package of computer paper, and of course all the regular school stationary supplies. If you live in the dormitory, you have to also bring a mattress. The major problem about all these necessities is that the majority of the families these children come from can hardly afford their normal household expenses. If a student cannot afford everything on the list they do not get to attend classes…and the poverty cycle continues. Luckily, we work with some exceptionally caring teachers. They allow students to attend class while their parents are slowly bringing in the items over time.
            For the students who are enrolled, there are other struggles. There is over 750 students here at Kiteto Sec; yet only 10 teachers, including Michael and myself. This means that the class sizes are enormous and the teacher work load is heavy. The school itself does not receive much money from the Tz government, so there are no printers, or copy machines. No overheads, nor a computer lab. The students do not even have textbooks. Their only material for studying is their hand-written notes. Teaching aids are all hand-made and worksheets and study guides are nearly impossible to obtain. The black board and chalk is about the only resource most teachers have. Our school is lucky enough to have just received some laboratory equipment from the government, and the science teachers are eager for Michael and I to teach them how to use the apparatus for experiments. The biggest struggle for us, however, is that the classes are taught in English to students who speak Swahili. The language barrier is the biggest heartache.
            With all this said, I cannot wrap my mind around how excited these students are to learn. They struggle to understand what we are saying, but try regardless. Many of them are aware that an education is the only way to a secure job, and they realize that they only have one chance. The students are remarkably polite, and appreciative. They work in the farm between class, sweep the dirt from the school grounds, clean the classrooms and teaching lounge. Many sit in the classrooms after school has ended to review their notes over and over. They do not have a choice at lunchtime, just beans and Ugali (flour and water).
I can’t get over how remarkably lucky we were as high school students. . . with all its privileges and plethora of lunch choices. School is free for us. Our parents do not have to make the choice between buying meat for our family or paying our school fees. How are we given all the textbooks, overhead projectors, and now computer touch boards we need; when I see students sharing notebooks because they cannot afford their own? I understand the underlying politics (I won’t even go there) but my bigger question is why do I have to come here to know about this amazingly huge and unfair gap? Why was I allowed to complain about school and lunch food when I had every opportunity in the world at my fingertips . . . merely because, by chance, I was born an American? Why were we so ignorant when appreciation was due?
Yet, these students are not angry. They do not question their circumstances. They just learn and do what they have to do. . .and for me, witnessing that is what life is all about. My students are not the only ones learning, so am I.