As I come to the close of our second week of lessons, I'm sensing one striking resemblance between Tanzanian and American classrooms. In both cultures, songs and games are a fun and effective source of learning. While most of our time is reserved for the strenuous amount of lessons we have to get through, an occasional opportunity to be silly is greatly appreciated by both students and teachers.
One song I recently taught my students is the age old tune, the Hokey Pokey. It was an excuse to get out of the classroom while encouraging students to review all the body parts they had learned during the day's lesson. The students enjoyed being exposed to a traditional piece of American culture, in addition to showing off their newly gained knowledge. As we sang the song and followed the dance, I was able to sense my students' excitement for their developing English and the promise it brings their futures.
However, I also realized the Hokey Pokey reflects my own experience in Tanzania. I often feel like I'm throwing myself into a ring of chaos. Whether it be brushes with culture shock, struggles at school, or resistance to change, I seem to always find myself being shaken all about. But, when I'm faced with the hardest times, I have to remember to turn myself around, or at least my attitude! I lose track of the fact that I'm not just here to give, but to learn and accept, also. Despite the confusion and frustration, I am here to grow as a person, not to become more narrow. I hope to leave here in five weeks feeling like I let the people of Tanzania help me, not solely the other way around.
Because, hey, that's what it's all about! :)
Showing posts with label culture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label culture. Show all posts
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Sunday, January 20, 2013
School of thought... Or not.
It's Sunday night, and as I'm used to doing, I'm planning out my lessons for our first full week of classes. Typically, I would have a very detailed outline of my objectives and how I expected to meet them. In the WorldTeach program, they actually give us numerous resources that pretty much outline our days for us. Although it seems restricting, I understand that not all volunteers come from a background in education. Plus, WorldTeach encourages us to branch out in anyway we find effective for the students. However, this is where my frustrations grow...
WorldTeach prepares international volunteers for the tribulations that will arrive at school. The differences in the American education system and the Tanzanian education system are vast, to say the least. Even after hearing this, I remained ignorant to the facts. I assumed Tanzanian schools would be open to advice and suggests that would push the schools towards "Americanization." Boy, was I wrong.
As of now, we have about 50 students enrolled in Form 1 (first year of middle school) and four Form 1 teachers. As the American, I suggested we split them into two classes and each co-teach a class. My idea was met with a couple chuckles and the rationalization that 50 students was way too small to split, and instead all four of us would divvy up class time. While aggravated, I tried to understand that Tanzanian schools have always conducted large classes, it was a part of their culture. However, my role as an American volunteer is not to teach 1/4 of the day by somebody else's rules. My job is to be a teacher, an innovator, at Mtanga Secondary School. Unfortunately, instead of breaking through the culture barrier, we pushed the class size issue off to the side, into shaded gray area.
So, now as I sit trying to plan my Monday lessons, my frustration bubbles up again. Even in the areas I could add creativity to my lesson, I'm still extremely restricted in my ability to plan. My class size, my classroom, even my role in the classroom all remain a mystery to me.
Hopefully tomorrow, a fresh day, a fresh week, we will again be able to confront the issue and work out a cultural compromise.
WorldTeach prepares international volunteers for the tribulations that will arrive at school. The differences in the American education system and the Tanzanian education system are vast, to say the least. Even after hearing this, I remained ignorant to the facts. I assumed Tanzanian schools would be open to advice and suggests that would push the schools towards "Americanization." Boy, was I wrong.
As of now, we have about 50 students enrolled in Form 1 (first year of middle school) and four Form 1 teachers. As the American, I suggested we split them into two classes and each co-teach a class. My idea was met with a couple chuckles and the rationalization that 50 students was way too small to split, and instead all four of us would divvy up class time. While aggravated, I tried to understand that Tanzanian schools have always conducted large classes, it was a part of their culture. However, my role as an American volunteer is not to teach 1/4 of the day by somebody else's rules. My job is to be a teacher, an innovator, at Mtanga Secondary School. Unfortunately, instead of breaking through the culture barrier, we pushed the class size issue off to the side, into shaded gray area.
So, now as I sit trying to plan my Monday lessons, my frustration bubbles up again. Even in the areas I could add creativity to my lesson, I'm still extremely restricted in my ability to plan. My class size, my classroom, even my role in the classroom all remain a mystery to me.
Hopefully tomorrow, a fresh day, a fresh week, we will again be able to confront the issue and work out a cultural compromise.
Friday, January 18, 2013
The power of community
In Tanzania, a community is more than just houses built near each other. It's an interconnected family where members work together, rely on one another, and help each other out. Last night, my housemates and I decided it was time to visit our neighboring homes to introduce ourselves. While I could only really sputter out the basic greetings, the neighbors clearly expressed their gratitude to us for teaching out. I had a two year old march up to me and shake my hand. We were even invited in for sodas by a retired school district officer, which is a pretty high position in Tanzania. We all agreed we more peacefully last night after meeting the people around us.
Today, we experienced one of the most rewarding effects of joining the community bond. The two year old that shook my hand last night, kept running by today with an old beat down tire. I invited him over to play, and despite the language barrier, we giggled together for a while. He then called a friend over, which attracted some of the other neighborhood kids. Morgan, my housemate joined in, and then even a few more kids! At one point, we had about 10 kids under the age of seven playing catch with us.
As it happens in Tanzania, an unexpected severe storm hit with only a few seconds warning. We hid under our awning until it proved to be no protection from the rain. Instead, we invited the kids in where some sprawled out for a nap, and others enjoyed a movie (Disney's "Up," courtesy of one of my American students!). The two year old laid his head in my lap, shaking every time the thunder bellowed.
This afternoon play date proves our acceptance into the community. Unfortunately, Americans aren't always welcome in Africa. However, the neighborhood parents were comfortable with their children playing with us, and even taking shelter with us during the storm. The kids, despite their curiosity and initial weariness of us, trusted us to keep them safe while they were scared.
Today, we experienced one of the most rewarding effects of joining the community bond. The two year old that shook my hand last night, kept running by today with an old beat down tire. I invited him over to play, and despite the language barrier, we giggled together for a while. He then called a friend over, which attracted some of the other neighborhood kids. Morgan, my housemate joined in, and then even a few more kids! At one point, we had about 10 kids under the age of seven playing catch with us.
As it happens in Tanzania, an unexpected severe storm hit with only a few seconds warning. We hid under our awning until it proved to be no protection from the rain. Instead, we invited the kids in where some sprawled out for a nap, and others enjoyed a movie (Disney's "Up," courtesy of one of my American students!). The two year old laid his head in my lap, shaking every time the thunder bellowed.
This afternoon play date proves our acceptance into the community. Unfortunately, Americans aren't always welcome in Africa. However, the neighborhood parents were comfortable with their children playing with us, and even taking shelter with us during the storm. The kids, despite their curiosity and initial weariness of us, trusted us to keep them safe while they were scared.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
I prefer mystery meat
Here in Tanzania, there is no mystery to what you're having for dinner. So much so, that I've literally stared my dinner in the eye, both dead and alive.
The first encounter with this lack-of-mystery was back in Kunduchi. We arrived at our usual lunch spot, greeted with the news that we were having fish! After days of rice and sauce, this was exciting news for some of us. However, as the dish began to come out, some people became last minute, no-fish-vegetarians. The fish's eyes, still perfectly intact, glowered at me as I made a face back at it. The fin made me feel like my meal might swim away at any minute. To top it off, this delicacy was expected to be eaten by hand.
Now that I've moved to Kilwa, I don't have too many run ins with any fishy friends. Rather, my dinner pretty much lives in my front yard. All over our our community, chickens run free. I've assumed they are for laying eggs and what not. However, yesterday as our house cook prepared dinner, I found a chicken staring at me from the "pantry" (a small closet that stores coal... And chickens). It was shaking, hiding in its little basket as the house cook tried corning our two male housemates to be the temporary butchers. However, as it turns out, our Tanzanian roommates are city boys, and had to recruit a local teenager to do the dirty work. As I heard the chicken's final screech, I felt big time remorse for emphasizing that chicken was the only meat I would eat.
I'll have rice, please!
The first encounter with this lack-of-mystery was back in Kunduchi. We arrived at our usual lunch spot, greeted with the news that we were having fish! After days of rice and sauce, this was exciting news for some of us. However, as the dish began to come out, some people became last minute, no-fish-vegetarians. The fish's eyes, still perfectly intact, glowered at me as I made a face back at it. The fin made me feel like my meal might swim away at any minute. To top it off, this delicacy was expected to be eaten by hand.
Now that I've moved to Kilwa, I don't have too many run ins with any fishy friends. Rather, my dinner pretty much lives in my front yard. All over our our community, chickens run free. I've assumed they are for laying eggs and what not. However, yesterday as our house cook prepared dinner, I found a chicken staring at me from the "pantry" (a small closet that stores coal... And chickens). It was shaking, hiding in its little basket as the house cook tried corning our two male housemates to be the temporary butchers. However, as it turns out, our Tanzanian roommates are city boys, and had to recruit a local teenager to do the dirty work. As I heard the chicken's final screech, I felt big time remorse for emphasizing that chicken was the only meat I would eat.
I'll have rice, please!
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