Welcome, 2011

My desire to blog comes and goes, just like most other things.  Unfortunately, the last time I updated my blog was months ago and of course a lot has happened since then. 

The last time I updated, there were some doubts about the end of year examination timetable.  I suspected that the timetable would change.  My suspicions were correct.  Due to elections, the exams were moved up several weeks, which was bad news for me because it meant I had no time to do revisions (review) with my classes.  And then, just when the timetable put in place to accommodate the elections was solidified, the Ministry of Education decided to change it again, to keep the learners in school until a later date than the revised timetable.  Then there was another change, to keep the learners even longer.  We more or less decided to disregard the last change and kept the revised timetable.

Despite my best efforts to prepare my learners for the exams, performance was pessimal.  For the maths exams (there are 2 question papers – one with structured/word type problems and one with straight up maths problems that leave little room for interpretation) I more or less went over exactly what the learners would need to know in the days before the exams.  They still performed poorly.  In English it was like they'd been sleeping all year.  Marking the exams was exhausting, because marking 42 of anything is exhausting, and the disappointment I felt at my learners' performance drained me of any optimism I'd had for my class.   Of course teachers' performances are evaluated partly on learner performance, and based on the performance of my learners on the exams as well as in classwork, it was implied that I hadn't performed my job as a teacher well.

In the end, 14 out of 18 girls in my Grade 6 class passed.  The 4 that failed went to Grade 7 anyway, because they already repeated either Grade 5 or Grade 6 and so can't repeat another year until the go to Grade 8.  The boys didn't fare so well. Of 20 boys, only 4 passed. Of the 16 who failed, seven were transferred to Grade 7 because they already repeated either Grade 5 or Grade 6.  The other nine will repeat Grade 6.  Amongst these nine are the son of the schoolboard chairman (he failed English, mostly because he's lazy) and the Maths Advisory teacher's son (he failed, you guessed it, maths). When the HOD saw this, he chuckled in an ironic sort of way, and made like he was going to suggest doctoring their marks to pass them.  I was like, hey, do what you want, but I’m not passing them.  Then the principal called me into his office to discuss it. He basically told me that they were going to be passed to Grade 7.  I firmly stood my ground, told him that it was his choice if he wanted to do that, but that I strongly disagreed with that decision and felt that both would benefit from another year in Grade 6.  I made a solid case for keeping them in Grade 6, but I left his office feeling even more beaten down and frustrated than I already did.  I'd made the conscious decision not to doctor their marks before the marksheet hit his desk, and my opinion as their teacher, and the teacher who spent the most time with them, had been completely disregarded.  Then... lo and behold, I was called back into his office.  They'd reviewed their marks for the year, both of the boys', and decided that, based on all their marks, keeping them in Grade 6 was the right decision. Score one for the American lady.

Being a teacher for the first time is hard, but for me, the end of the year was especially hard with all the administrative bullshit required to close the year.  As a 'register teacher' or class/homeroom teacher, I was required to do a lot of paperwork and complete record cards for each and every learner in my class.  Some paperwork I didn't know I had to do until I was being asked for it, completed.  It was...  stressful. And I was always wondering what more I was supposed to do that I hadn't done because I didn't know I was supposed to do it.

In addition to the stress of the end of the year, I started to experience anxiety at levels I've never had before, due mainly to my approaching visit home.  I'd purchased my ticket in October, and had all the time in the world (aside from the time I was stressing about school) to think about it and romanticize about it.  I've heard people with severe anxiety describe a feeling of wanting to crawl out of their skin, and of having a feeling of not wanting to be here, or there, or anywhere....  and I'd never been able to understand it or even remotely relate until I started feeling that way. I started having a lot of trouble sleeping, and started running to try to help stave off some of it.  I even thought about asking the Peace Corps Medical Officers for some sort of anxiety drug or at least something to help me sleep, as a last resort, but in the end things got too hectic that I couldn’t deal with them on top of everything else. (It was during the exam period that I began losing sleep, and started to understand how severely crippling sleep deprivation can be.) I started to feel like I didn't want to return home at all, that staying in Africa would have been a better choice for my mental well-being.

I was correct in thinking that returning home would be difficult.  The trip was a double-edged sword. I needed time to recover from everything going on here in Namibia, needed to restore my sanity, and this didn't always match the expectations others had for me.  I had a  hard time coping with changes in my life, changes in the lives of people in America, but it was beautiful to see people I'd really been missing.  I had some funny/terrible culture shock. It was REALLY COLD and really weird and really great.  I did lot of laughing and a lot of crying.  By the end, I often felt like I'd never left (that is, until one thing or another would jolt me back to remembering how much had changed since I'd been gone).  I questioned my desire to come back to Namibia, especially since the end of term had been so hard and I felt like my work here hadn't accomplished anything.  In the end, I stuck to the idea that I made a commitment to do a job here, for better or worse, and came back with some inkling of optimism that I would be able to muddle through the next 10-12 months, because in the grand scheme of things, what's 10 months?  And while in America I was able to resolve some of the sources of my anxiety residing there, and was also reminded by some key people that I chose to apply to the Peace Corps because there wasn't a lot going on for me in America anyway.  And however good or bad visiting America was, it provided me with important perspective that I think I really needed.

So, I got back on those planes (after an amusing situation at Dulles caused by some suspicious packages, which in turn caused United Airways to suspend all flights for a couple hours and turned the check in counters into a bit of a mess) and traveled the 40ish hours back to Gobabis.  I returned feeling a little beaten down, still very sad about things that happened at home, unsure about my decision to return, but was welcomed by Chico the africat, my new roommate, and some other amazingly positive, supportive volunteers.  Knowing they'd be here when I got back definitely made the return trip and first 72 hours back in Namibia bearable.  Without amazing friends here, life would suck. Bad. And I'd probably be back in America by now.

It was a little surreal to think, sitting on the planes, that I would, in a day, be back in Africa, Namibia, Gobabis, at my house at the Regional Ministry of Education office. And being back was surreal. Again, there was this feeling  that I'd never left, and the reality check that school would start shortly after my return.  There was the uncertainty of what the school year had in store, and still the overwhelming feeling that I'm not really accomplishing anything here.  I was jet-lagged for days, still struggled with bouts of anxiety/sadness/guilt/insert crippling emotion here.  I had trouble sleeping at night, and had trouble staying awake during the day.  The four days between my return and the first day of school simultaneously dragged and flew by; I welcomed the chance to decompress and relax a bit, but looked forward to filling my time with school and whatnot.  Even more, I really started to look forward to making this year better than the last. 

Having a sitemate is great.  Just the last 2 weeks have shown me that many volunteers who are otherwise struggling would prosper in Peace Corps service with a sitemate.  There are the typical cohabitation issues, things that arise learning to live with someone you barely know (but are about to know waaay better than you want!), but in general it's been nice to have someone to talk to who (more or less) understands.  Because Martin and I are at different stages of our service, he's still discovering things and finding his own way, so we can't talk about things the same way I could (and do) with people in Group 30.  It's entertaining to me to watch him going through many of the same things I went through last year, and just like parents must, I have to resist the urge to guide him or advise him or prejudice him.  His situation is also a little different – for starters, he's a dude, and men  tend to have much different experiences than women.  He's teaching at a secondary school (also in Epako), whereas I'm at a primary school.  Regardless of differences, even having the option to talk to someone who can relate on any level with how i'm feeling is reassuring and helpful.  The other night we were playing Scrabble, and I thought to myself how it was a perfect example of why sitemates are awesome – because I would have otherwise been in bed watching a movie or TV - or worse, be lost inside my own thoughts - instead of using my brain and interacting with another human being.  And having a sitemate who likes to play Scrabble is a super bonus.  Seriously.

And so, we're 5 school days deep into the new school year.  As much as I may have been dreading going back to school, it was nice.  I am quite good friends with the secretary (she's young and hip) and it was really nice to see her and give her a hug and talk to her about her holiday on the farm.  My principal was happy to see me (and I think surprised, as I don't think it was a secret to anyone that I was struggling toward the end of the last school year), and the other staff cordially welcomed me back.  The first 2 days back were teacher-only days, no learners.  I had a chance to meet with my principal about what each of us had in mind for me for the upcoming year.  I knew that they'd been planning to remove me from teaching English and Maths, and last year when I found that out, I was upset/pissed off/frustrated about that.  While I was home, though, I decided that not teaching a 'promotional' subject (a subject in which the grade determines passing to the next grade or not, like English, maths, science, etc) might just be how I survive 2011.  Last year I would have liked to spend more time in the library, utilizing and helping others to utilize the available resources; I felt like I was doggie-paddling against the current for the whole year, trying to keep my head above water, and I simply failed at this objective.  I realized that not teaching promotional subjects would allow me the freedom to spend more time in the library.  During our meeting, my principal released me of my duties teaching Grade 6 and 7 English and maths, but proposed that I teach Grade 5 English. I said no. Of all the classes other primary school volunteers have taught, Grade 5 English is the class that causes the most problems.  Learners have a really hard time  transitioning between mother-tongue as medium of instruction in  grade 1-4 to English as the medium of instruction in Grade 5, and other volunteers report that the learners have no idea what they're talking about for months.  And really, I was a little confused by the proposal, since I'd been removed from grades 6 and 7 because I wasn't teaching well enough for my students to perform well.  I told the principal that, of all the classes he could propose I teach, that was the one I wanted to teach the least.  And I counter proposed co-teaching grades 5 and 6, helping those teachers find better resources and plan more creatively, and working more in the library, serving more as a resource volunteer than actual teacher.   In terms of sustainability, this makes much more sense than just struggling through by myself in my own classroom, especially since finding sustainable secondary projects has been a challenge for me.  I also let him know that I have anticipated Peace Corps-related absences that, without a relief teacher, could negatively impact teaching a class like Grade 5 English.  My principal is a sensible, reasonable man, and often if I can make a strong case for something, he'll agree.  He agreed.

The learners came back to school this week on Monday.  Much to my surprise, attendance was pretty good.  At most schools in Namibia, learners trickle in for the first few weeks from the farm, and most schools don't make a timetable or start teaching until the 3^rd week.  My school? The timetable's done, most learners are coming to school, and things are rolling right along.  That's not to say that things aren't (almost absolutely) chaotic, but the chaos doesn't faze me the way it did at this time last year.  Also, not being a class teacher anymore, I don't feel compelled to babysit until the other teachers actually start teaching.

A few notable, bloggable things have happened at school this week.

·         The secretary is a quite talented seamstress, and made me a fancy, plunging neckline dress. She knows I'm a super sucker for a pretty dress, and it was a really thoughtful, heartfelt gift.

·         Today, 2 boys showed up in the office asking to speak to the principal. When he came out of his office and asked what they wanted, the older of the 2 said that they were looking for a school. The story is that both of these boys are orphans who are now living on the street.  One is 13 and would be placed into grade 2, the other is 8, has never been to school, but appears to be quite clever. However, because these boys are street kids, my school won't admit them. (The matter was further discussed at our staff meeting this afternoon, I think the school is going to investigate getting them placed in an orphanage so that at least they aren't sleeping in boxes on the street.)  The sad thing is that this case is pretty common.  Namibia claims to have an “Education For All” policy, meaning that any child classified as an OVC (Orphaned or Vulnerable Child) should not have to pay school fees, and so in theory education is available to all children. However, in practice, that's not what's happening, because the process of classifying a child as an OVC is cumbersome and involves documentation that is sometimes hard to come by.  And really, according to  the definition of OVC, most of the learners at my school could be classified as OVCs. 

·         I was highly entertained by one of my colleagues resetting a clock with dead batteries 2 mornings in a row, like somehow, magically, the batteries would start working again.

This afternoon, we had a meeting for the Grade 5-7 teachers, during which we discussed a few very interesting things.  The first interesting thing was the 2010 pass rate at my school.  It was 86%.  That means that 86% of the learners at my school were promoted to the next grade.  However, this also includes the learners who were transferred – those that were already held back once and can't be held back again. If you take away those learners, the pass rate drops significantly.  In fact, my region – the Omaheke Region – dropped to 12^th place out of 13 regions in academic achievement in 2010.  The Director of Education is up in arms about it, and called a principals' meeting for next week.  The second interesting thing came up while discussing this drop in academic performance.  The principal said that we should now concentrate even more on those learners who earned Es last year. He asked why any learner is earning an E in the first place. I was the first to speak up and observe that some of the learners at our school have such severe learning disabilities that they would be receiving special education and one-on-one attention were they in larger towns or more developed country.  These types of learners simply aren't capable of processing things the way the others can.  This prompted a lively (but disheartening) discussion about the utter lack of resources available to learners/children with special needs in Namibia.  And in many of these cases, the teachers' hands are more or less tied, because most Namibian-trained teachers aren't qualified to work with special needs learners.

 All this week I've been....  well, hiding, for lack of a more concise word, in the library.  I've actually been working on finding good resources for cross-curricular teaching.  English is supposed to be taught in a cross-curricular manner, meaning that themes from the other subjects (HIV/AIDS, population education, Information Technology, Human Rights and Democracy, etc) should be incorporated into English lessons.  I'm also bound and determined to expose both the learners and teachers more to the library, especially using encyclopedias and dictionaries and some of the spare textbooks. I had a frustrating incident earlier this week when again the issue of “we have this really nice thing so let's not use it so that it stays really nice” came up, this time in reference to the library.  But, I'm trying to stay optimistic and not let all the cumbersome policies get me down.

And so, I can now positively say that I'm hopeful about the next year.  I feel free of a lot of things that weighed me mentally and emotionally down last year.  I'm doing something that I believe to be far more sustainable than what I did last year.  And the end is in sight: unless something changes, I'm planning to end my service mid-October and travel for a bit before my return to the states. 

I’ll leave you with 2 funny anecdotes. The first: I’ve come a long way since my arrival in Namibia. 2 nights ago I killed cockroaches with my bare hands AND my bare feet. It had to be done, there were no shoes in sight. The second: today was the first day of “athletics training,” 90 minutes of exercise in the afternoon to prepare the learners for the intramural competition that qualifies them for the regional competition. I offered to train the distance runners. Picture me running, like a pace car, at the front of a pack of 30-40 school kids, through the location of Gobabis.  I only wish I’d had a picture of it.

If you’ve made it this far, well, either you’re really bored, or actually interested. Either way, thanks for reading.