I Open At The Close

The ending to my story is not nearly as dramatic as Harry Potter’s. But I thought I would take a line from the movie for my title to pay a little tribute.

When I walked into my classroom on the last day (arriving late), my 34 babies clapped and cheered and I smiled as big as ever. At the end of the day, I cried as hard as ever. It was a rollercoaster of a day. Most of the day was disappointing, honestly, as I had much less time to do as I had planned. But the kids had a wonderful goodbye ceremony for us and I received many heart-breaking letters. The most haunting thought was that I didn’t really accomplish much and that all my work would be undone in the coming years of their educations. I still fear that, but I do know that I made some good changes. The kids went around telling me their favorite things that they learned, and I was surprised to hear “good debate questions” and “writing an opinion” as well as “reptiles” and “insects.” And then Teacher John joined our circle and added that he liked our outdoor lessons, where I had the kids write what they “notice” “think” “learned” and “wonder.” Plus I know that the field trip did some long-term good for those kids. But it’s just heartbreaking to leave 34 individuals who I feel so strongly for and who I want to help so badly, after such a short period with them.

However, due to several stressful events lately, I’ve felt very ready to go for the last week or so. As I’m sitting at the airport writing this, I just feel like it hasn’t hit me that I’m about to leave. I’ve spent so long here that I think I’ve become accustomed to everything and the shock of being gone won’t hit until I’m back home. I wrote the following a few weeks ago, and I still think it captures my feelings pretty accurately:

I know I will be tempted, at the end of this, to convince myself that leaving is the worst thing that I could do, that teaching here is so much better, and that life here is “the way it should be.” And to a certain degree, those feelings will have merit. I have learned so much about what I value in education, and while I haven’t found the teaching style I prefer to be flourishing here, I have found a school with a close-knit community, a relaxed atmosphere, an inextricable connection to the outdoors, and a sweet, smart, adorable, and eager student body. It is worlds better from the stifling fluorescent halls, repressive and misguided discipline systems, cultural dissonance, and justified student rebellion that I find in so many American schools. However, I cannot allow myself to idealize this community and adopt a hippy dream of abandoning the US for a “simpler” life. While I know that I want to be less removed from the natural world and I do think that the US should become a little more “simple,” I also know that is naive to presume that a “simpler” life– technology-wise– means simpler problems. The problems that this country, region, district, and village face are all incredibly complex. I probably could not begin to understand, let alone solve, most of them.

And I do not belong here. I am a creature of change; I have lived in over 20 different houses, I’ve seen so many places, and I’ve learned so many things, that I have a constant and irrepressible desire for adventure and novelty. I do want to shake off some of this restlessness as I mature, but I know that at this point, I could not be content with a life spent in the same rural area, doing the same thing every day. I do not know how to cultivate crops, slash fields, build a mud house, carry a jerrycan full of water, or skin an animal. I am not strong. My soul has grown within a privileged body, protected from labor. Granted, I could learn these things. I could never learn, though, how to exist in a society that outlaws homosexuality and forces women to wear skirts below the knee. I could never learn to soften or silence the voice in me that questions, that calls out injustice. I could not stifle that voice that says but I don’t want to wear a skirt today. I could not accept an identity, as a woman, of an object of sexual desire to be controlled, rather than a sexual being who chooses how to control oneself.

Perhaps it’s a shame, in the grand scheme of things, that I have not been raised as a group thinker. I do not always put others’ needs before my own, I do not identify myself strongly with one particular group, and I am not always able to accept relativist morals and beliefs “for the greater good.” But I think I’m okay with that. I like being able to have thoughts I can claim as my own, I enjoy limitless learning, and I take pride in choosing people to identify with because I love them, not because of a perhaps-arbitrary grouping. I will always want to travel, and I’ll probably want to live and teach elsewhere for a period of time, but this trip has made me realize something that I didn’t really think I would ever say: the U.S. is my home. I am a product of our emphasis of individuality and personal freedoms. I see so many things wrong with my country, but I’m now closer to accepting that with knowledge (power) comes responsibility. If I am aware of problems, and have an idea of how they’re caused, it is my responsibility to at least try to solve them, even if I know my efforts are futile. If people never fought futile fights, there would be no history books. There is no greater patriotism than recognizing the faults in the country’s fabric and working tirelessly to mend them.

Now, don’t walk away from this thinking that I’m a hardcore patriot who thinks the rest of the world is backwards. Uganda is a beautiful country. Kasese is an enjoyable place to have lived. Rwentutu is an incredible place to have worked. But it is not better than the U.S., and nor is the reverse true. One day, after talking to one of my cooperating teachers about some of the complex problems in the U.S., like poverty, homelessness and discrimination and their intersection with school funding and inequity, he was stunned. He then asked me to compare certain issues with their counterparts in Uganda, and after my response, together with my assertion that I generally found it wonderful here, he asked, “So, shall I then say, that you like it better here than at home?” I replied that it’s not that simple. It’s never that simple. All places in the world have their “roses” and their “thorns” (to use a very teacher-y analogy). I could probably be generally happy living in any number of places. Just like I could be happy with any number of men (one at a time). But, as someone taught me, love comes with knowing that fact, but choosing to commit to one person anyways. Belonging to a place comes with knowing you could live anywhere in the world, but you staying to be with your family and solve problems in your community. Who knows, maybe later in my life I’ll end up moving permanently to Canada, Finland, France, Costa Rica, or somewhere and I’ll look like an idiot writing all of this. But right now, I’m ready to go home.

And at home, I will remember this as two and a half wonderful months of my life. I have so many happy memories and have learned so much. I finally became a real teacher and I had a much more enjoyable classroom placement than ever before. I also saw some pretty horrible things that will always stay with me. All these things have changed me and how I intend to live my life. I hope that you have also learned something and allowed yourself to be affected by it. Thank you for following me on my adventure.

Goodbye, Rwentutu!

Talking To Strangers

 This is a short post on how I have perceived my social interactions here.

I recognize that our group of student teachers seems less social than groups before us. We all consider ourselves introverts. We enjoy traveling, obviously, and interacting with others, especially children, obviously, but it seems to take something out of us. We come home and we need an hour alone, to do planning or reading; just quiet, away from others. So, the fact that we have not made many “friends” falls partially on our shoulders. Our personalities are just not conducive to seeking out conversations during our free time. However, the conversations we have had did not leave me wanting more. I do not want to generalize, so I will say that the following commentary is about six people I’ve regularly had conversations with.

First of all, these people have often initiated conversations when I’m not expecting them. I might be working on lesson plans, for example, while sitting within the house or on the porch. I could be on a roll, in the zone, totally busy with my work and distractedly absent from the conversation, and the person would continue talking. I understand that our social cues are probably different, but it seems like they’re not watching me at all for any signs that I might not want to be talking. I also think that, since they don’t have the same sense of time, they might not understand that I’m stressing about planning a lesson on time. Still, whether they understand or not, it’s inconvenient and stressful for me to be forced into an hour-long (or more) conversation when I need to get work done.

Second, I usually am not involved too much in the conversation. With a few individuals, I can’t even get a word in. I don’t really understand this. Is it because they’re my elder (although one is only older than me by a few years) and I should listen to their wise words? Is it because I am a woman (all six individuals are men) and my opinions don’t matter as much? (This actually seems fairly plausible, since we were repeatedly asked by men if Matt was our "group leader" because he was the male. A few men would only directly talk to Matt, ignoring our presence.) Is it because I’m American, and they’re just so excited to talk to an American that they have to get all of their thoughts out? Is it because I’m listening quietly, as is respectful in my culture, instead of talking at the same time or telling them I’m busy, which wouldn’t be disrespectful in theirs? I’m sad to say that, after almost 2 months here, I haven’t figured it out.

Perhaps most importantly, all six of these people have, at one point or another, told me what to believe or do, without giving me the opportunity to state my opinion. For example, I have been told that I don’t go to church enough and that I really ought to praise God for getting me here safely, etc. I’ve been told that my country really shouldn’t meddle with Uganda’s anti homosexual policies and with the situation in the Ukraine. These were not conversations, but lectures. I do not like lectures, especially as a teacher. In these two instances, the individuals really closed the door to learning from each other.

Finally, when we attend events where we are the only mzungu, we’re given oddly special treatment. We are ushered to the best seats, and a line of people comes to shake our hands and greet us. It’s nice, and welcoming, but it feels somewhat empty to me. People don’t go beyond asking “how is your life?” and it feels like they see us as belonging to a group, having the label of mzungu, without seeing us as individual people. We’re not given the opportunity to start conversations, because we’re scooted around and told what to do, and no one starts meaningful conversations with us. In many situations, too, there’s a significant language barrier. Even if people speak English, we often do not understand one another.

So, all of this makes me somewhat withdrawn from society here. I know that talking with people could help me learn a lot, but I frankly do not feel like being lectured at for an hour. Right now, I’m really excited to go home and talk! I’m yearning for the friendly midwesterner who you can strike up a conversation with at a bar or at the bus stop. I know there’s a lot you can learn about people from talking with strangers, and I like meeting people who feel the same way. I understand that there’s a lot of cultural clashes happening here, and that I need to be adaptable and learn from another culture. I do look forward to more opportunities in the future to interact with other cultures. But I’m also eager to return to knowing what’s going on, having the same codes, and being able to laugh at a joke, if only for a brief time. Maybe I’m not learning as much as I should be, but at least I now I won’t take social interactions within my culture for granted, which I think is a fairly important thing to learn.

One notable exception to these observations and feelings, though, has been talking with the P6 teacher, Teacher Rau. Even though he wasn’t officially a cooperating teacher of mine, I interacted with him more than any other teacher and formed a great friendship with him. He even invited me to his house for lunch (which doubled as a home visit, because his younger brother is one of my students). We talked about education, laughed, shared tons of delicious food, and he showed me his family’s small plot of land and a nearby bridge. I haven’t passed a more enjoyable afternoon with a platonic friend in a very long time.

In contrast to all prior observations, Rau asks me questions, treats me quite normally, respects my opinion, and is not very judgemental of others’ differing opinions. And we have a great time, telling stories and making jokes. So that just goes to show that you can’t make sweeping generalizations.

With the Rau family, minus the brother who took the picture

I crossed this wobbly bridge!

Teamwork Is Dreamwork/ Doing What Scientists Do

 It’s often hard to realize that you’re making progress. Especially when there’s so much left that you want to accomplish. As a teacher, you become painfully aware of what skills and knowledge your students lack, and it’s frustrating to not be able to help them improve. However, when I think back to the first couple weeks of teaching here, I don’t think I would have imagined that my students could do what they’re doing now. First of all, I didn’t think that we would ever be able to understand each other’s accents, so I have to be thankful that we finally did. But I think I realized that I was making progress when I was proud of my lesson plans, when a CT came up to me and said, “You’ve really made a change in the pupils. They are thinking…”, and when my students began observing things I didn’t notice and asking questions to which I didn’t know the answer!

Teamwork is Dreamwork

Group assessment of vertebrates

It all began with my wrap-up of vertebrates. Of course we had been doing fun things before, but this was the first lesson that I was really proud of. So I had them sit in 6 groups, and at this point, they’d become used to that, because it’s convenient to turn the desks in that arrangement, given how the desks are made. At each “station” was  a different class of vertebrates: birds, mammals, fish, reptiles, and amphibians, and at one station was “compare/contrast.” The groups had 10 minutes at each station to answer 3 questions about each group; questions were usually complex, like “how does an embryo breathe inside the egg?” or “what are two characteristics of chameleons that make them different from other lizards?” At the mammal station, I had them put pieces of paper with different species (goat, chimpanzee) into the correct ziplock bag, each of which had the name of a placental mammal group (ungulates, primates). This activity worked so well because the students were up and moving every ten minutes, which kept them engaged. They had to answer different kinds of questions, which drew on the different strengths of group members. I also had students change the “writer” each time they rotated, so each student had a chance to write. I found that this spread the “talking time,” too. The test did not go perfectly, because they did not get everything right, but what happened was that I saw very clear gaps in understanding. There were about 3 questions that every group got wrong. This showed me that the teaching of these concepts was not successful, and I needed to teach them again.

Waiting for the picture to be over so they can move to the next station haha

 

#3 for the mammal station- placental mammal groups

In English, I began using a different format for debates because I found that about 15 kids were dominating the conversations (it’s impressive to have 15 kids involved in a debate, but with a class of 34, it’s not good). I divided the room in two, and then in each made 2 groups, intentionally mixing quiet students with louder ones and carefully accounting for different personalities. We called it “Inside/Outside” because on the left side of the room, I would have one group face each other at two tables pushed together, while a group on the outside circled around them and watched, and then the same on the right side of the room. So about 8 students would debate a topic while the outside group watched (it’s usually best to give them some sort of task to accomplish by listening). We would then switch, but only after every person talked at least once (or twice, increasing their participation each time the exercise was carried out). I found that this got everyone talking and really increased the level of conversation, but only if the students found the topic really engaging.

I also found that with debates, it’s best to start with specific situations and then work your way to the more general. For example, if you ask students “is stealing wrong?” some students will be engaged and others will not be. Some students will naturally bring examples of different situations into their arguments, but others will not. Most will make confusing and meandering arguments. But if you give them a specific situation, particularly one that they can relate to, the debate becomes much more animated and advanced. To explore stealing, I asked them about a few different situations: a man stealing out of revenge for his goat being stolen, a mother stealing medicine for her dying child… these situations are actually seen in Lawerence Kohlberg’s work and are highly debated by adults, but they’re adapted to students’ thinking capacities and experiences.

I eventually was able to get to debating the death penalty. I was so glad to get there, because I had noticed many troubling remarks from students about killing wrongdoers. They’re entitled to their opinions, but I found many contradictions and flaws in their logic, so I wanted to hash those out. I don’t believe that teachers indoctrinate students or push their own beliefs as unquestionably right, but I think they should encourage moral development, because even though there are no right answers in life, there are more advanced arguments and levels of thinking. Anyways, I adapted a lesson that one of my professors in education used on my own class. It was a character-driven seminar, which means that students adapt a certain character and must argue from their perspective. This gives them practice in stepping in others’ shoes as well as forming arguments. So I divided the kids into 8 groups and had them read their character description and summarize what they believe. They then went around and “interviewed” other characters and asked them what they believed about the death penalty and why, and put the information in chart. Next, they returned to their groups and formulated questions for the people who disagreed with them. Finally, we held the debate and I divided the room based on “yes/no” and had students sit with their groups. I also gave only 3 “talking tickets” per person, so that the “big talkers” would run out of tickets and others would have to speak.

 

Interviewing each other

A notebook after 2 interviews

In all these examples, students worked wonderfully together. I can’t claim that as entirely my design; much of their teamwork can be attributed to the fact that they have known each other for years and their school has an excellent sense of community. But I exploited this fact and students were able to teach and learn from each other, which is especially important when the teacher, as one person, is unable to reach 34 students. Most importantly, though, I wasn’t standing up at front, lecturing at them, only getting participation from a few, and risking misunderstanding. I only circulated while kids were enacting the activities, helping individuals or groups understand.

Doing what scientists do

But I think the best lessons so far happened when I told students that they were scientists and showed them how to act as such. As I was planning to teach the rest of invertebrates, I realized that examples of all the land-dwelling invertebrates could be found within feet of of our classroom. It clicked when I heard Matt talking about his lessons about plants out in the garden, and realized that worms would be there, too. So the next day, I had students make a chart with “I notice,” “I think,” “I learned,” and “I wonder” in their “science journals.” They were to record their observations, their ideas, notes from a mini-lecture, and then remaining questions. We went to the garden and had an awesome time looking at slimy, squirming worms. I then gathered everyone in a circle and told them some defining characteristics and interesting facts about worms, such as the fact that they are hermaphrodites (which shocked the kids!). I intentionally deviated from the typical lecture format here, in which teachers make kids dictate exactly what they say and give them the spellings of difficult words. I find that this robs the children of real understanding, an ability to paraphrase, and the capacity to figure out the spelling of words themselves.

 

These kids were surprisingly skilled at catching butterflies

I repeated this format for investigating insects, myriapods (millipedes & centipedes), and arachnids (for our purposes, spiders) over the next two days. Students became more independent as they became more familiar with the note-taking format. They were really excited to catch butterflies, crickets, and spiders, and it was adorable to see them run over to me, saying “Madame! Look at this one!” I had a mini-lesson on making observations complete enough for the reader to recognize the animal described, which helped, but they will need more practice, and more vocabulary words. But most importantly, their ability to ask questions has sky-rocketed. They are so critical! “Do worms have blood?” “How do spiders fertilize?” “How do myriapods see?” 

Scientists hard at work!

Observing a millipede together

I just hope that students will continue to ask these questions, especially when their teachers feed them information that’s incomplete, unexplained, or just total bologna. And I hope that one day they will be able to find the answers themselves.

Ugandan Honey, Chicken Guts & Marriage.

Nothing could be more random than the collection of stories in this blog post, so I figured that the title should reflect that.

First, let me start with Ugandan honey. This weekend, Matt and I went out to visit some students’ homes. After Alex had a slightly strange experience, we decided to stick together and both visit both students. We left the house around 1:30 and arrived at the school about a half hour later to ask King James (the headmaster) for directions to the houses. I spied some of my students (who are boarders) and we giggled at the novelty of seeing each other on a Sunday, without their uniforms, my presence unannounced. Then we headed to find Medrine, one of Matt’s students. We drove down a winding, bumpy road and stopped when the road was no longer navigable by car. Samson went up to a random man to enquire about Medrine’s house. Unexpectedly, the man generously led us on the 10 minute walk. I thought it was cool that this guy seemed to know where everyone lived, especially because the narrow paths were twisting and unmarked. The walk was beautiful; we wove between banana and coffee trees and cassava plants, and the mountains surrounded us.

Medrine’s father welcomed us warmly. He had a wide smile and a booming laugh, and once the awkwardness subsided, we had a great time looking through photo albums and talking. I was happy to find that he asked us questions, seemed to respect our opinions, and answered ours. So, unlike my prior experiences, I felt that our conversation was pretty successful. However, I didn’t think he knew English well enough to have a conversation about what purpose he thought education served, and what he wanted his children to get out of education, so I held back, even though I’d been wanting to have that conversation with a parent. One thing that surprised me was that Medrine’s mother did not sit and talk with us. She seemed busy and clearly did not know English, but it almost seemed like she didn’t think she belonged in the conversation. Medrine, too, shied away from joining us and busied herself with cleaning up after us. Oh, they made us food! It was incredible. Rice, beans, potatoes, cabbage, matooke, freshly squeezed orange juice, avacado… it was so good! I hope it wasn’t rude for us to take a little proportion compared with what they eat, but it was so filling that I couldn’t eat any more! Matt was also given some papayas, as a gift is customary for visitors to receive.

The family's guinea pigs. Nothing cuter than guinea pigs eating matooke and beans!

Matt with Medrine and her parents

We took photos with the family and said our goodbyes. It took us a while to find Christopher’s house, but I knew we were there when Mbambu Ruth appeared, running towards me! So, to clarify, Christopher is my student in P6, but he also has 2 siblings at Rwentutu: Sam in P1, and Ruth in preschool. Ruth and I are buddies. Anyways, we were graciously welcomed into the family’s brick home. I didn’t get to talk to his parents much, but Christopher and Samson were able to translate a few things for us. The parents seemed very gentle and happy, so I was pleased that it looked like Christopher had a loving family. His aunt spoke English very well, so we also visited their house (on the same compound) and hung out with the cousins, who also attend Rwentutu. Ruth was so excited to give me some of the family’s honey and I was so excited to receive it! I had been talking about finding some local honey, so it couldn’t have been a better gift! It’s got some ants floating around in it, but who minds a little crunch? It’s delicious. I also got two eggs, which I think is very generous, because I’ve heard students saying that they only eat eggs when they’re sick. It felt like such a short time at Christopher’s house, and we didn’t get to speak much to each other, but I was so happy to have gone.

With the family: Sam, Christopher, and Ruth (front) are siblings, with their parents (center). The four other children are cousins (front left, back, and front right).

Honey & eggs!

We also stopped by Samson’s parents’ home. Seeing all three houses up close, and many others from the road, gave me a much better picture of how people here live. I’ll try to summarize my findings. First, everyone has a cooking house/hut. It’s usually made of mud, but sometimes brick. It’s pretty smart to have this set up, so you’ll only burn down one part of the house instead of all of it if the open fire spreads, and so the smoke doesn’t fill the house. Some people live in temporary huts made of mud or straw, but I don't know how common that is. I don't think the people living in those houses could afford to send their kids to school. Many people seem to have brick and/or cement houses. In all three houses we visited, there was a small sitting room, with wooden furniture and sometimes cushioned seats. There are only a few bedrooms despite the large family size, so I think it’s safe to assume that lots of children share a small space. Most have tin roofs. Medrine and Samson lived in areas with coffee and banana trees, so it was slightly shaded and woodsy-feeling, but Christopher lived by a maize field, which was harvested already at this time of year, so it felt very farm-like.

Christopher's house

I guess you could say that people live simply. But it’s not a shocking, destitute sight. It’s just the way it is. People aren’t scrapping by, looking desperately for help, or dying of starvation. I’m not trying to say that life isn’t difficult. People here definitely work harder than most Americans. And I’ve heard of more burials happening in the last 8 weeks than I’ve heard throughout the rest of my life. But I don’t want you to think that I saw sad, struggling people living in awful conditions, or happy people that are “overcoming” their situations. They’re just living. 

Christopher's aunt's house (the picture is crooked, not the house)

So, onto the wedding. Friday, Alex told us that we were maybe invited to a wedding (it wasn’t clear whether Doreen had invited just her or all of us). I promptly forgot, and then was reminded on Saturday, an hour before we were supposed to leave. So, I wasn’t really prepared to go in the first place, and I wasn’t prepared to be there the entire day. By now, I’ve come to expect that time moves slowly here, and things will never go as planned, but dang. We did a lot of waiting, on a day when I had a lot of work to do. So I’ll leave my complaints at that. But, when things were happening, it was super interesting! There were performers throughout… young boys breakdancing, grown men crooning, a collection of people who seemed random dancing together… the surprises were endless! Just like the talent show at Juliet’s high school, audience members came up and gave change to performers they enjoyed. 

People dancing!

So at least it was entertaining! We were also fed, which was awesome. There was matooke, groundnut sauce, potato, beans, cabbage, some unidentifiable foods… and SO much of it. I had to force it all down, because I didn’t want to be rude, and I didn’t eat for the rest of the day. Oh, and I ate with my hands, as is pretty common here. Most of the kids eat posho and beans with their hands every day at school. I thought that I would be grossed out by the texture, but it’s not that bad. It’s kinda fun. 

The food line

Eatin' with my hands! My kid-self was loving the revenge on Mom's table manners

We left early because we did have things to do, and I felt rude doing so. But we at least stayed to see the bride & groom, which I was glad about. They hadn’t been there the whole time– from about 2 to 5– because they were at the church, getting their pictures taken, eating, being delayed…. As I said, it never goes as planned. But they had an incredibly grand entrance- and danced down the aisle! I’m so doing that for my wedding.

The bride & groom getting their groove on!

Finally—chicken guts. Alex visited Samson’s family last weekend and returned, horrified, with a squawking chicken in hand. Their generous gift became our dinner last Wednesday, after Doreen decided that its life had become too hopeless. It had been bullied as a new member of our compound’s chicken community, and was no longer eating. That may sound funny, but it was actually horrible to watch. The rooster would attack it and even the chicks would push it away from everyone else. Anyways, we all donned our “slaughtering suits,” as Doreen called them (we had just taught her what “birthday suit” meant) and headed out to the backyard. We decided that Alex had to kill it since it was hers, and I think the experience scarred her for life. But it gave us a delicious chicken stew.

Alex & Doreen with Chicken head & Chicken body.

Chicken guts

For all you city folk like me, here’s how you do it.

1.     Hold the chicken’s wings down and grip its neck.

2.     Saw off the neck (we didn’t have a knife good enough for a clean chop).

3.     Keep holding it until you feel it stop squirming, because it will run around without a head, and let the blood drip from its neck.

4.     Play with its detached head and make its beak move while you pretend to talk for it. Look at its freaky eyes.

5.     Dump the rest of the body into a bucket/pot of just-boiled water.

6.     Pluck the feathers off (the hot water makes it easier). Give the bucket of hot feather water to some weirdo who wants to drink it, or dump it in the back corner of the yard.

7.     Bring the carcass into the kitchen and beat it up a little with a knife. Take out all the guts and throw those away. Except you might want to keep the gizzard, liver, kidneys, and heart, if you’re gross like Matt and Doreen.

8.     Break the bones so you get nice chunks.

9.     Fry it all in a pot of oil.

10. Add stuff to make a stew and eat it.

What a lovely result!

Day Trippin'

Disclaimer: I'm not talking about drugs here. I'm referring to a Beatles song. Alright, moving on.

Morning Madness

When the Bwera Secondary School Bus, reserved by Rwentutu Christian School for the day, came blazing down the dirt road, almost the entire school ran towards it, cheering and screaming. Many students in P4 and younger raced down to the fields and caught a ride with the bus up the alternative route to the school entrance, giddy with the opportunity to be on a school bus, even though it wasn’t taking them anywhere. After a while, we eventually piled P5 through P7 (76 students) 7 adults, the headmaster’s daughter, and Cassie and me into the bus, and took off up the bumpy dirt road. The kids were ridiculously excited, singing songs and cheering at everyone we passed. We had to make a stop to fetch water (for drinking and for cleaning dishes) at a nearby river, because the tap at the school had been out that day, and when the adults left to do so, several street vendors came aboard. That happened all the other times we stopped too, and let me tell you, those vendors hit the jack pot. Students were practically throwing their money at these people for chapatti, biscuits, fried cassava chips, water, soda, goat meat, and fried plantain.

On the bus!

Anyways, for all of those anxious to hear about the trip that I, the staff, and all the wonderful donors worked so hard to make happen, here is what happened:

“This will be a memorable day”

First we stopped at a fishing village on Lake Edward. A man explained several fishing methods and discussed the types of fish found in the lake. Many students bought oyster shells, which, if you use them as spoons, is supposed to help your health, I guess. We piled back in the bus and drove over to Lake Katwe, a salt lake. The salt mining from this lake is a major source of income for the area.

Demonstrating the gill-net method

Walking among the salt lake mines

A hunk of raw salt

Kabugho Joness, not thrilled with the taste of the salt lake

Then, we headed over to Queen Elizabeth National Park in Mweya and stopped for lunch. The administrative staff had decided to bring our own lunch instead of buying the overpriced lunches at the park. But it was still a special meal; we had rice and beef, and they usually only get meat on Sundays. I’ll have to thank the cooks, because they apparently started working at 4 in the morning in order to cook this meal in addition to the regular meal for the rest of the school.

Some P7 girls sharing lunch

After the kids ate upwards of 10 pounds of food (Okay, I’m exaggerating, but the portions here are MUCH bigger than we are used to), we dashed off to the highly-anticipated boat launch. The teachers stayed behind as the students filed off the bus, so the students of course ran ahead and piled onto the boat. I was surprised to discover that there was only one boat ready, as opposed to 2, like we booked. I found out that the other was broken, which really annoyed me, because they had weeks in advance notice of our booking, but I realized that they probably didn’t have enough money to fix it. Still, the boat was filled with about half of the students and no teachers, so we had to force some to get off and let teachers on. I was frustrated because I wanted to be with my entire P6 class to help them build connections of the animals they would see to what we had discussed in class, but most of them were on the boat without me. The boat driver wouldn’t let Cassie and I on the boat, because there was a misunderstanding about the fees we had to pay (none of our fees were included in the fundraised money, because that money could buy a lot more for the students than it could for us, since the fees are higher for bazungu). So Cassie, about 35 students, and I had to wait 45 minutes in the hot sun for the boat to return.

The boat ride was cool and relaxing, though. The students were excited to see hippos and buffalo. I at least got to hang out with 4 of my students and talk about wading birds, kingfishers, and hoofed mammals. I was disappointed that there wasn’t as much biodiversity as there was when Cassie, Matt, Alex and I took a boat ride on the same channel a few weeks before (in a different direction). They did not see elephants, wild pig, eagles, or lizards, like I did. It was a much shorter ride and we stayed farther from shore. But I think that all of the students enjoyed just being on a boat. They were all excited to have their photos taken while standing on the top level of the boat, and I think it was still a valuable learning experience.

Welcome back!

Hippo!

P6 + Teacher Rau + Baby Claire + 2 random dudes. Don't worry, they're happy, they just don't usually smile for photos!

Finally, we explored the park museum/learning center. It had geographical, ecological, and historical information, so it was interesting to all students it seemed, just in different ways. I watched them bounce around from exhibit to exhibit, and many students begged me, "teacha- get my photo here!" I personally loved discussing the beautiful stuffed birds with students. 

Learning about Uganda's national parks

Bwambale Eriab with an elephant skull

Shortcomings

We were disappointed to find that there was not, in fact, a zoo in Mweya, which John (my science CT, who had planned the trip) had led us to believe, for some reason. And we were not able to visit a famous bridge, as was promised to the students, because the bus driver had somewhere to be (even though we were not given the slightest estimate for a time to be back at the school). Only a few students got out to take pictures at the Equator line, because of miscommunication between teachers, which all students would have loved to do.

One of the lucky students who got his photo at the Equator

So, per usual, there was a distinct lack of organization, which was frustrating because the trip was my idea, but I couldn’t plan it because I’m not a local and don’t know how to book things, etc. I also took issue with the pedagogy used throughout the trip, such as tour guides making students copy exactly what they said into their notes. How is this different than the problematic lecture format that teachers use here, besides changing the venue? At one point I was able to tell my students to write what they saw, heard, smelled, tasted (the salt lake), and felt, but I didn’t have the time to explain how to write this like a scientist, and I couldn’t talk to my students alone about the connections to our curriculum. It just hit home for me that you can’t just assume that being on a field trip will be a great learning experience. In the future, when I can have more control, I will be sure to plan out every step of a field trip. You have to ask so many questions. How are students grouped? Are they given prompts to answer, or free to write whatever they observe? Are they given reflective opportunity throughout, or after? There’s so much more to field trips than people realize.

I was also incredibly angry, sad, and frustrated to discover that one of my students was not present on the trip. I don’t know for sure yet, but many of my kids said that he didn’t go because he didn’t have a uniform. Thursday afternoon, the eve of the trip, the teachers gathered P5 through P7 to discuss requirements for the next day. They listed almost 20 things that students must do and have before embarking on the journey: clean shoes, ironed uniforms, shaved hair, a signed permission slip (given the previous week)… the list went on. I didn’t know if all of those things would be possible for some students. I didn’t entirely buy the teachers’ assertions that students without all of these things wouldn’t be allowed on the bus, but they put on a pretty convincing act. They thankfully gave the students extra time to accomplish all of this work, cancelling the afternoon classes that day. But they only gave me an hour notice of this, so I was mad that I wouldn’t be able to teach science, which I’m behind in.

Anyways, many students had torn uniforms or had just transferred from another school and couldn’t afford this school’s uniform, so just wore their old one. But most students were able to borrow other students’ old ones, or those of kids from younger grades, who wouldn’t really need their uniforms that day. Nason, however, is a newly-transferred student of mine, a tiny and incredibly shy 11 year old. Also, I don’t know how much this affects his social interactions, but his ethnic background seems to be a little disfavored. I suspect that he was too shy to ask anyone to borrow theirs, and didn’t bother to come to school that day. I talked with the headmaster, and he was sad and frustrated too, and said that he would have let the student come. I was frustrated because of course the other teachers would have too, but their scare tactics were too intense and made Nason actually believe that he wouldn’t be welcome. Students who can’t afford uniforms certainly can’t afford trips like the one we took, and it makes me so angry that he missed this opportunity, which was meant for students like him.

Reverberations

Unfortunately, the trip also had some negative ripple effects on the rest of the school. Of course the students from P1 to P4 were all jealous and disappointed that they couldn’t go on a trip, too. It seems that their behavior that day might have been affected by their frustration. Also, some classes were missing teachers, who went on the trip with us. One teacher, who wasn’t even a teacher for P5 through P7, went with us without telling her class or the other teachers who shared that class with her. As I mentioned before, the tap wasn’t working at the school, so students had to go and fetch water from the river. With the older students all gone, young kids were struggling to carry huge jerrycans of water. Alex and Matt told me all about this experience and the rest of their chaotic day, and I’m sure they’ll mention it in their blogs (http://matthewteachingabroad.blogspot.com/?m=1 and http://soccerfanatic10.wordpress.com/). I felt so bad that my project had negatively affected so many people, even if it had a positive effect on others.

Perfection is hard in an imperfect world

From all the hype built up around this trip, I was imagining a blissful day, with my students eagerly exploring, making exciting revelations– a teacher’s dream. I also feel responsible for reporting a perfect day to all who supported this trip. But I think that telling you all the truth can provide a learning experience for all of us. Nothing can be perfect, and that’s just the way the world is. I know that I’m a perfectionist, so perhaps you can read through that, and won’t see too many problems with the trip. And in the end, it was still a success. 76 students still had grins on their faces yesterday. They cheered when they saw a herd of elephants on the side of the road, and laughed when they learned that a group of hippos is called a school. They asked questions about things they saw on Lake Edward and in the museum. So I want to again thank everyone who gave these students the opportunity to do something different and exciting. Learning really can change people’s lives, and I’m so excited to have students talk and write about what they learned.

Musoki Nichole & Musoki Sophia: both the first-born girl