I get a rude early-morning reminder of just how new I am to this place. On my way to the staff room, I walk down a corridor lined with students who apparently have nothing to do but loaf around. Reaching a dead end, I realise I should've turned off the corridor somewhere along the way. I guess I don't know my way around as well as I think. I try to retrace my steps - and end up trying to nudge open a window I thought was a door. Instantly I hear sniggers from all along the corridor - the silly kids are making jest of me! As I correct myself and approach the right exit one of them shouts to me - "Miss, no, it's this way" - pointing to the solid, doorless wall on the other side of the corridor. In my country you get spanked for doing that to your teacher.
My first class begins. It's a revision lesson for final year exams next week. Amazingly, the students settle down to work on their class exercises. I didn't know a class could actually be quiet in this school!
A student strolls into the class at least fifteen minutes late, only to announce that he forgot his pen at home. The teacher promptly fishes out one for him from his generous supply of stationery. In this place they provide students with everything - pens, pencils, erasers, rulers, compasses, protractors, note books... My mind is cast back to the six maths sets my mum bought for every one of the six years I spent in secondary school. They kept getting pinched each year, probably by those whose mothers couldn't afford to buy maths sets for them.
This class is really quiet. With the exception of the occasional student asking for the answer to a ridiculous question like 9x7, it actually almost feels like the type of school environment I'm accustomed to. That's better!
At lunch I engage in a discussion with three teachers in which we lament the state of indiscipline in schools throughout the country. Education laws are designed to indulge children rather than correct them. No member of staff, not even the school principal, has any real authority over these children. Someone says he does not know how government expects teachers to do their job without giving them the power they need to do it. Good point.
I have another class after lunch. The teacher does most of the teaching; I mostly watch how he handles the students. Three years in the profession have made him an expert in this business. He knows how to put these children in their place. There's the case of a boy who alleges that I'm gossiping with the teacher about him. The teacher's response: "What could we possibly have to say about you? That you're clever? I don't think so. Now shut it and get on with your work!" Another boy threatens to beat a fellow student as well as the teacher. The teacher looks at him pointedly and declares matter-of-factly: "Well, I can assure you, you won't live to tell the story". I just look on, truly fascinated by all the drama.
While other people are trying to work on their class exercises, a girl takes out her music phone, plugs in her earphones and starts swaying to music. A boy causes disturbance on his table and the teacher asks him to move to another table or get out of the class. He chooses to get out of the class. The girl with the music phone turns up the volume so that we can all hear what she's listening to. The teacher tells her to turn it down.
The day gradually draws to a close. The class disperses and as usual I help the teacher clear up. Commenting on the his handling of the children, he says to me: "We don't teach students here; we play mind games with them. You make them do what you want them to do while making them think they're doing it of their own free will". Interesting.
My first class begins. It's a revision lesson for final year exams next week. Amazingly, the students settle down to work on their class exercises. I didn't know a class could actually be quiet in this school!
A student strolls into the class at least fifteen minutes late, only to announce that he forgot his pen at home. The teacher promptly fishes out one for him from his generous supply of stationery. In this place they provide students with everything - pens, pencils, erasers, rulers, compasses, protractors, note books... My mind is cast back to the six maths sets my mum bought for every one of the six years I spent in secondary school. They kept getting pinched each year, probably by those whose mothers couldn't afford to buy maths sets for them.
This class is really quiet. With the exception of the occasional student asking for the answer to a ridiculous question like 9x7, it actually almost feels like the type of school environment I'm accustomed to. That's better!
At lunch I engage in a discussion with three teachers in which we lament the state of indiscipline in schools throughout the country. Education laws are designed to indulge children rather than correct them. No member of staff, not even the school principal, has any real authority over these children. Someone says he does not know how government expects teachers to do their job without giving them the power they need to do it. Good point.
I have another class after lunch. The teacher does most of the teaching; I mostly watch how he handles the students. Three years in the profession have made him an expert in this business. He knows how to put these children in their place. There's the case of a boy who alleges that I'm gossiping with the teacher about him. The teacher's response: "What could we possibly have to say about you? That you're clever? I don't think so. Now shut it and get on with your work!" Another boy threatens to beat a fellow student as well as the teacher. The teacher looks at him pointedly and declares matter-of-factly: "Well, I can assure you, you won't live to tell the story". I just look on, truly fascinated by all the drama.
While other people are trying to work on their class exercises, a girl takes out her music phone, plugs in her earphones and starts swaying to music. A boy causes disturbance on his table and the teacher asks him to move to another table or get out of the class. He chooses to get out of the class. The girl with the music phone turns up the volume so that we can all hear what she's listening to. The teacher tells her to turn it down.
The day gradually draws to a close. The class disperses and as usual I help the teacher clear up. Commenting on the his handling of the children, he says to me: "We don't teach students here; we play mind games with them. You make them do what you want them to do while making them think they're doing it of their own free will". Interesting.
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