The American girl in me was antsy
because I certainly did not want to make a bad impression by being late on my
first day. My director wanted to personally introduce me to the class I would
be teaching. When we finally arrived, some
of the class was waiting outside while others trickled in one at a time. The
Director instructed them to go and get chairs for the classroom so that they
could sit. This was new to me and was just a quick reminder that I had to be
prepared for things to be a bit different.
Don’t get me wrong---students are students everywhere and are always
subject to being hot mess; that doesn’t change. However, there was a new set
of challenges presented to me on that day. Even though we had been forewarned
of the challenges we might face in the classroom, it doesn’t become real until
you enter the classroom. I was ready to enter the battlefield of white dust,
also known as chalkboards and chalk, but fortunately, we have whiteboards at my
school. We were told that the likelihood of having books to work with was slim
to none. Thus, I prepared a lesson plan with tiers in case I needed to escalate
or de-escalate depending on their levels. Thankfully, I hit it right on the nose.
While some students missed the
customary first day of class speeches, on the second day more showed up of
course and when I asked why they were absent, some had the usual
college-kid-i-had-a-problem-clears-throat-excuse. Others, and most, had real
life excuses, like being chronically sick, or having to take care of a parent,
or issues with their passports since many cross the border from Goma town in
the neighboring Democratic Republic of Congo. Even though I had planned to be a
bit firmer than I usually am because of the closeness in our ages, I had to
readjust my approach because of the nature of the challenges.
Not too long into the course, I
asked them to write a biographical essay so that I could learn even more about
their lives, while gauging their level of writing fluency and assessing what
holes we would need to focus on during the course of the module. As my eyes
perused their notebooks in the way that teachers do the infamous casual teacher
stroll, I read snippets of their essays. No matter what the structure of the
sentence was or what grammar lacked, the message was clear: that some of my
students were without parents because of a terrible event that many of us only
remember because of a film. Even though I studied African politics and
conflicts extensively during undergraduate, there is never really any talk or
advice that can prepare you for the feeling that engulfs you when you read, in
an essay, that it took you 10 seconds to explain, that your students do not
have parents because they were tragically killed in 1994. Some referred to the
year 1994 that has a clear connotation in this cultural context and others wrote
out the word ‘genocide.’ The word is the same in French and English; no matter
the grammatical errors, that word and that reality are clear.
I encouraged them to talk, but I
also expressed to them that they do not have to share anything they do not wish
to share. In the two weeks, however,
they have been open with me and our classroom has the warm embrace of a family
at a dinner table. I have looked forward to sharing ideas with them every day
and to challenging them to speak even when they are feeling self-conscience
about language errors. We have bonded
over lessons, conversations about each other, debates on hot topics, and have laughed
at jokes that occur while learning. They are my first class in Rwanda and
probably the smallest group I will ever have in a module, so they will always
have a special place in my heart. Even more, something about this group made me
feel like not only their lecturer, but also, a nurturer, friend, and sister. I can
imagine that they see a piece of me in them, as I see a piece of them in me.
Their humble demeanors, shy smiles,
eagerness to learn will be etched in my heart. I am grateful that they let me in and allowed
me to impart just an ounce of knowledge on their already brilliant minds.
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| Preparing their arguments for a group debate on technology |
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| The boys and their lecturer |
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| One of my three special girls :) #girlpower #powergirls |
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| :) Business Information Technology Year 2 Students |
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| Outspoken and passionate about everything he does |
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| The next social entrepreneur---more on this later :) #girlpower #powergirls |
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| A leader amongst leaders |
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| Turn to your partner and talk because language is produced and not memorized! |
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| That moment when your point is so critical |
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| When she talks, we ALL listen |
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| The Honorable himself |
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| Because pictures are necessary |
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| Break time and we still want to be together! |
*This blog (Bee's Backseat) is not an official Fulbright Program site. The views expressed on this site are entirely those of its author and do not represent the views of the Fulbright Program, the U.S. Department of State or any of its partner organizations.
