I need Africa more than Africa needs me

Today in first period I reviewed some of the official school rules with my class at the request of the administration. Basic rules- no hats, cell phones, or Ipods in class. I also reminded the students to arrive to class on time and informed them of the new school wide consequences associated with habitual tardiness. I don’t feel that I said anything unreasonable but the following exchange occurred:

Student: (yelling) That is a bunch of crap, why does it matter if I am late?
Teacher (me): (calm) There are many reasons- it is disruptive, I have to stop class to get you up to speed, and you steal instructional minuets from your classmates that did arrive on time. It really isn’t a big deal, just get here on time and you don’t have to worry about it.
Student: I can come late if I want and I’m not going to detention.
Teacher (me): Sure, I’m not going to argue with you so we are moving on.
Student (talking to another student about me): (In a snotty teenage voice) Isn’t it her job to teach me? So, if I come in late is shouldn’t matter cause at least I come…

Later in the day I was in the office tending to some paperwork when I overheard a lovely little angel yelling, to no specific person, that she wanted her phone back. (Her phone was confiscated and turned into the office, which requires a parent to pick it up) I was intrigued by the spectacle and pulled up a chair to watch her freak out. One of the three Vice Principals overheard her tirade and informed the young girl that her mom would need to pick up the cell phone per school policy, the VP then returned to her office. She proceeded to call her mom from a friends cell phone, turn on the speaker option, and tell her mom what a**holes the VPs are. Her mother agreed that the VPs were a**holes and that they “better f**king give you back the phone.” Clearly it is obvious where the young angel got her manners. Thankfully, rather than indulge this behavior all three VPs shut their doors in the girl’s face and reminded her that it was simply policy and her mom can pick it up anytime this week. I’m sure the VPs are drawing straws to determine who gets the pleasure of speaking to the mom when she picks up the phone.

These are not rare occurrences; they are daily occurrences.

I wrote this past summer that I teach from a place of love. That I teach with the understanding that the students in my class are struggling and their way of masking their insecurities is by acting out. Kids will take the label bully, punk, bad, rebel etc. any day over stupid or dumb. I believe, maybe believed, that no student is bad just not all students know how to be good. I’ve always been so optimistic and idealist but this year has been different. I feel myself hardening. I’m finding it harder to care about the students when they don’t even care about themselves. My younger self would tell my older self, “They don’t know how to care about themselves, and they need your guidance and help.” My older self just thinks my younger self was naïve. I don’t know what to believe, the old or young Michelle, or somewhere in between.

I went to Uganda last summer and I witnessed a yearning and craving for education in ways that I had never witnessed in the US. I saw students in the face of poverty, death, and unimaginable obstacles cherishing the opportunity to attend school. I interacted with young people who respected my profession, who respected me as an educator. Not once was I called a bitch or told to fuck off while in Uganda. Not once did I feel like a babysitter. Not once did a student roll his eyes at me or refuse to complete an assignment.

My mind sometimes wanders while in class and I think about why the Ugandan students persist even though the vast majority will never have the opportunity to pursue higher education or even have a career. My thoughts then turn to the faces in my class and I wonder why, given ample opportunities to learn and to have futures why they refuse to have aspirations, why they refuse to even try.

I need Africa. I need Uganda. I need for a small fraction of my year to feel like my career has meaning, that I have something to offer. I need Africa. I need Uganda. I need to, I want to, I hope to learn why some persist while others remain apathetic.

Last year when leaving Uganda we (western teachers) were asked to consider what we would take home from the exchange, what we would take back to our classrooms from the experience. At that point I didn’t know. I thought, what can I take back, I have better resources, better equipment/technology, and more education. It wasn’t until I was resettled that I realized that I could learn just as much from Africa as Africa could learn from me. And I think I need to learn some more. With that said, I will be returning to Uganda at the end of June 2010 for six more weeks of teaching….



On a side note:
I want to do some traveling around Kenya, Tanzania, and Zanzibar after teaching. Anyone want to meet me? I promise we will stay far from the Somalia/Kenya border, I thoroughly enjoying the pirate language (arg) but have no desire to meet real pirates! Think about it… It will be crazy fun ☺