Gaining Momentum

Although Sipili is back to its usual dustbowl climate, on Monday morning I awoke to thick clouds hiding the sun, and trees swaying in a cool breeze. That weather was certainly a pleasant change from the usual scorching heat. These arid areas have been experiencing a bit of drought lately, but Sunday night we got a good dose of rain. I didn’t even mind that I heard each and every raindrop that hit my tin roof from 4-5:30 AM, because I knew we’d have water in the well and the crops wouldn’t fail. It’s comforting to feel such a connection to rain, to feel genuinely excited about water. Back in the US, rain just promises clean streets, a fresh smell and maybe some crazy drivers. But here it’s critical for survival.

Some time has passed since the bright, new beginning of the term, and life has settled into a bit of a routine. As I was discussing with my Mom during a much-needed phone call back home, this is the first time I’ve actually had time to settle down since before college. I’ve always been on the move, with a new town, a new home or a new room just a few months away. Now the reality of “2 years” is sinking in, and I still haven’t decided how I feel about that reality. It’s undeniably exciting, but it seems like a long time to be settled in one place.

The upside of settling (or “nesting,” as I like to call it) is that my house is becoming more and more like a home. Although the little girl next door recently broke my only chair by standing on it to see the spaghetti I was cooking for dinner, I have gained a small coffee table and a couch. My couch doesn’t have cushions yet, but I’m hopeful that I can find some in town within the next week. On one wall in my room I’ve hung cards and pictures from home on a piece of twine (Brutus Buckeye is featured twice already), a framed bible verse to remind me of my college community group days (I love and miss you girls!) and some Buddhist prayer beads that a dear friend gave to me before I boarded the plane in Anchorage. These things from home help me feel connected, the importance of which can’t be overstated.

School is increasingly rewarding and frustrating (I’m finding such contradictions to be common). The students are having a hard time grasping simple concepts, but they’re making every effort and at least are comfortable with me as their teacher. Some days when there are no other teachers around (another frustration altogether, explained later), I just sit with the classes and “story” with them. We talk about school, home life, their likes and dislikes, and whatever is on their mind. It helps me learn their signs, and also gives them a chance to freely express themselves. There’s not much of an opportunity for that otherwise. They’re particularly fascinated with airplanes. They see them occasionally in the sky and have seen them on TV, but have never been close enough to one to really know what they’re like. So, we talk about airplanes. A lot.

When the term began in early January, I was very excited to hit the ground running and teach as much as I could. I’m still excited about teaching, but I’m starting to encounter a problem that I already anticipate will be a constant battle over the next couple of years. During training we were warned that the other teachers may not share our enthusiasm for the job, so I thought I was prepared for that kind of attitude. At the beginning, I saw a little bit of that in my fellow teachers, but I was actually pleasantly surprised; they spoke a lot about their dedication to the job and displayed a mature understanding of the obstacles Deaf children face and what techniques should be employed to overcome them. However, while everyone is good at identifying issues and explaining how deal with them, actions ultimately speak louder than words. And inaction speaks the loudest. It’s not at all uncommon for me to go to the class I’m teaching, and to see my lesson from the previous day still on the board (meaning that a whole day has gone by without another lesson, even though they are supposed to have eight lessons per day). And it’s not terribly diplomatic for me, the young, foreign lady teacher with no previous experience, to call attention to the absence of other teachers for their lessons. Additionally, we have staff meetings during the school day, which prevents ANY of us from teaching during those times. On Monday, the headmaster called a staff meeting that was to last “5 minutes.” Over three hours later, we were finished, but we weren’t back to teaching – the headmaster sent the teachers out to deliver invitations to community members for a “Day of Thanksgiving” (for donations) on Friday (also to take place during scheduled class time). I politely refused and went to class, which is just about as forward as I can be about the lack of structured instruction time. And when visitors come to the school, all bets are off, too. The students “entertain” them and then go play until the visitors leave. There hasn’t yet been a day when every teacher has attended every class from the beginning until the end of the day. And during the times the teachers aren’t in class, the kids are running around, hitting each other with sticks because they don’t have a playground, toys or books. There’s nothing I want more than to help redirect time and money that the school has into resources for the kids, but it’s a struggle that has to start slowly. In the meantime, the best I can do is show up to all of MY scheduled classes, and, if I’m feeling brave, make a comment or two if I notice other people aren’t in their classes (or aren’t there on time).

Overall, my spirits are still high (most of the time), and the family next door to me is still SO supportive and helpful. I still have fresh fruit every day, and mango season is coming up! For those of you who sent mail/packages to the Nairobi address that I still haven’t received, I should be getting them by mid-February at the latest (when the APCD comes to visit my site). I’ll be sure to let people know when I get something from them so they know it wasn’t lost. And be patient with my replies – it’s been over a month since I’ve seen an OPEN post office… as we say over here, This Is Africa, or TIA for short :)

Learning

Since the last time I wrote, I traveled to Meru for New Years and met up with eight other PCVs for a much-needed weekend of relaxation, dancing, American food, decent wine (try finding that in Kenya), hot showers and an incredible hike to a really fantastic waterfall. After returning to Sipili, there was just enough time for a full day of laundry, some cooking and cleaning and then the first term of my teaching career in Kenya officially began! It's now been about a week and a half since the official start of the school year, but I’m already feeling at home in my school. Before I go further, it may help to give some context and provide specifics about my school – Sipili School for the Deaf used to be a unit within Lariak Day Primary School (located right next door to our compound). A few years ago, the Ministry of Education determined that there was a need for a separate school for Deaf students, so our school was constructed and the unit was upgraded. Since then the school has added classrooms, dormitories (allowing for more students to attend since they can lodge at school and don’t have to commute), a couple of cows, a borehole for water, and other accessories that help the school run smoothly. The school is sponsored by the St. Martin’s Catholic Church located in Nyahururu, and the small projects around the school have been funded by Italian or American donors who have come into contact with the headmaster of the school through the Church. There is still a need for better facilities, but as far as I can tell, the school is functioning relatively well, and there are quite a few projects in progress – the school is definitely growing. There are eight of us teachers total, five men and three women (myself included) and about 50 pupils here so far. On the first day of school we had a 5-hour staff meeting (it was a real marathon) where we discussed the year ahead, responsibilities each teacher would assume and the classes we would take on. I was assigned to 25 lessons a week (each lesson is 35 minutes long). I’ll be teaching class 5 mathematics (7 lessons/week), class 7 science, KSL (each 5 lessons/week) and Life Skills (1 lesson/week), and class 8 English (7 lessons/week). The Peace Corps staff members encouraged us to accept about 20 lessons per week during our first term, but that’s an impossibly low amount due to the number of teachers we have at the school. Two of the teachers are assigned to lower primary students all day, so the remaining five of us have to split up the rest of the lessons belonging to the other classes, and I ended up taking on a load similar to other teachers. In addition to classes, all of us teachers have additional responsibilities. I’m the co-director of “games” which just means after-school sports (football, netball, handball, cross-country running, etc.) and I’ll also be helping to teach a Tuesday afternoon KSL class to the other teachers, most of whom have no KSL training.

Many of the pupils have now arrived since we started planning and teaching. Last week consisted largely of splitting up classes, and constructing the timetable of who is teaching which lesson at what time (which took a lot longer than it should have, and had to be continually revised… but I’m the proud author of the final, official edition, which I crafted out of exasperation due to wasted time and eagerness to begin teaching) and this week has actually included some lesson time. Planning lessons is exhausting and teaching is already frustrating sometimes, but I really care about the students and want to see them improve. Teaching class 5 mathematics will probably be my real test, due to the variability of the students' abilities in that class. At this point they’re supposed to be able to write and name numbers up to tens of thousands, but in reality they aren’t able to consistently identify and spell the names of numbers one through ten. But I’ve been persistent with them, and I think some of them are improving – one girl loves to come up to me during break times and spell the number “seven” over and over. I just pray she is actually grasping the concept of what she’s spelling. The other classes will be tough too, but I think I can get concepts across if I focus on offering stimulating visual learning aides (THANK YOU Mom and Dad for sending markers!!) and remain patient with the pupils. Of course, that’s easier said than done.

Now, for those of you who are curious, I’ll explain a little bit about the Kenyan education system. The school year begins in January, and there are three one-month breaks in April, August and December that divide the year into three terms. School starts in “nursery” class, which is essentially kindergarten, and is followed by Primary School which consists of classes 1-8. For lower Primary (1-3), the students are in the classroom with one teacher the whole day (similar to our Elementary School system). Then, from class 4-8, students stay in the same class the whole day while the teachers travel from class to class, depending on the class and subject they are teaching. After Primary School, pupils go to Secondary School and attend form 1-4. This is essentially the same as our High School system. However, the most notable difference between the Kenyan system of education and the US system is the presence of compulsory national examinations at the end of class 8 and form 4 in Kenya. In Primary School, this exam is called the KCPE (Kenyan Certificate of Primary Education) and in Secondary School it’s called the KCSE (Kenyan Certificate of Secondary Education). Acquisition of these certificates proves that students have completed Primary and Secondary School at a satisfactory level. After Primary School, the pupils are tested in six subjects: English, Math, Science, Kiswahili (or KSL in the case of Deaf students), Social Studies, and C.R.E. (Christian Religious Education). I’m not sure about the specifics of Secondary School subjects, but I know they’re more specific and dependent on which track the student has chosen to study. Aside from providing proof of education, the KCPE and KCSE exam results are incredibly important. In both cases, the score of the exam is the sole parameter that future schools consider when accepting applicants. There are fewer Secondary Schools than Primary Schools, and fewer Secondary Schools than Universities in Kenya, so not every student can continue their education all the way through University level of study. This puts a lot of pressure on young students to perform well on the exams in order to get into a good Secondary School/University, or even continue their education at all. This also inevitably results in a lack of concern for any subject that is not on the exam (like creative arts, physical education, life skills, etc.) and ridiculously long school hours for students who are about to take the exams. My host sister in Machakos took her KCPE exam while I was there, and in the weeks leading up until the test, she was reviewing the material at school from 6:30 AM until dark.

It’s a bit frustrating to be constrained by such a rigid syllabus that follows the test, especially in Deaf Education. Even though many of the pupils at schools for the Deaf have little to no language comprehension in KSL (let alone English) because their parents don’t know KSL, these kids are subjected to the same exams as children in hearing schools. Additionally, many Deaf learners don’t go to school right when they’re eligible. There is still a lot of stigma surrounding Deafness in Kenya, so many parents hide their children away and keep them as workers in the kitchen or the farm once it’s discovered that they’re Deaf. When (or if) these kids eventually do end up at school, they have very limited language, social and critical thinking skills, so there is a constant effort to get them caught up (as I mentioned with my class 5 math class). Finally, KSL is a very young language. British, American and Belgian sign languages were brought to Kenya by missionaries and were used in different regions of the country until, recently, the Kenyan Deaf Community decided that it was more appropriate to have their own uniquely Kenyan sign language. This was followed by research efforts to determine what signs are used by Kenyans (aside from the European/American impositions) and now a decent compilation of signs has emerged. However, many signs still have regional variations (we have three KSL dictionaries in our staff room at school that vary in many cases) and the vocabulary is quite limited. That being said, it’s difficult to teach abstract concepts like “human rights” or “social values” to students who are Deaf when much of the pertinent vocabulary is not yet defined in KSL.

Despite these roadblocks and seemingly insurmountable challenges that these kids face, I am amazed on a daily basis by just how bright the students are and how eager they are to learn. They love to “story” (carry on long, animated conversations with signs), play games and create jewelery, toys and hats out of grass. They are good-natured and smile almost all the time, are compassionate with one another, can communicate on a level that I’ve yet to master, and behave like one big family. They have responded well to having a new, young, strangely pale teacher around, and continue to patiently help me learn their regional dialect of KSL. I am humbled whenever I realize how much more these kids will teach me than I ever could teach them. But not for lack of trying - tomorrow is another day, and I have lessons to plan. Maybe I can get class 5 to count to ten, and maybe not - but at least I can show up, struggle with them, and hopefully communicate how awesome I think they are. I think I know the sign for that.