Monday, January 30, 2012


I take it back, these kids are driving me crazy. Though, like the thorn I stepped on yesterday afternoon, I have to admit, or is it "I hate to admit," it's not their fault, it's really mine. I've turned into Uncle Wilson from Dennis the Menace, "DENNNISSS!!" or is it, "CALLLLVVIINN!!" Either way, I'm a cranky old scrooge and every time the kids come to ask me for water for sweets for shit, I'm reminded of how little I have, which is pretty petty since I have so much... Luckily, kids have thick skin and no understanding of the english language, so within minutes, all is forgiven and the next day we can continue our *friendly* banter. (Photo above, students outside doing traditional dance, or at least what they know of it)

I was left alone with one of the standard one classes, a group of 60 little ones. My head ached after half an hour when they realized that I'm not a normal teacher and that I dont have the guts to tell them to shut up. Screaming, crying, laughing, singing, some were even covering their ears to drown out the noise. Finally I took charge and told them all to "shhh!" and the kids, being kids imitated me, "shhhhh!" I pulled out a book and decided to read them out loud. Read to all 60 of
them. Students were demanded patience as I read slowly in my best Ms. Lewis from the 2nd grade voice and rotated the book around the room for them to see pictures. (Photo to left, the standard 1 class I'm working with, before they received a gift of coloring books. The task for the day, color in the entire sheet of paper and then scratch out a picture)

Since they didn't understand my words, they turned it into a game. When the book came around to them, they would squeal, hop on the tables to get a better view and grab it with their itty bitty hands. By page 5 I was wrenching little fingers away from the pages, telling kids to sit down, and the headboys were out of their seats monitoring the kids behind me. 60 kids is hard to manage. After a point, things got so chaotic, kids were falling from their chairs and I had to be mean again. I grabbed one particular kid, the policewoman's son ironically who had spit on me the day before, and brought him outside to scold him. He babbled some english words at him, knowing he couldn't understand what I was saying, but hoping that my tone would convey my message, and ushered him back inside... (Photo Below, Mma Leswa Dula teaching the kids outside, making a traditional cloth doll to teach body parts)

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