Tales of an African Classroom

Would you find it unusual to visit a school and find all of the teachers wearing white labcoats? Yeah, me neither. It’s par for the course here in Rwanda. I have been trying really hard to plan more school visits before the rainy season (mid-September) descends upon us and my commute becomes even more challenging. I am planning to use those rainy days to create lesson plans, make didactic materials (ie: visual aids out of rice sacks) and to possibly make a giant map of Kamonyi so that I can label the schools I’ve located to date.
The school I visited last week (with the labcoats), also had a Primary 6 class of 70 students. Yes, SEVENTY. Where in most cases, there is “double vacation” meaning students attend school either in the morning OR in the afternoon, this school has decided that more hours in the classroom means more learning. It is a lofty ambition but I wondered as I watched a lesson on Area/Perimeter, whether one teacher responsible for 70 students can actually teach effectively. I also remarked that I definitely prefer teaching the younger ones as the mustached boy in row 5 kept winking at me!
As I walked over to the second campus of this primary school, (they have two locations but are considered one school), I was greeted by about 500 primary kids. There isn’t any feeling more awkward than 1,000 eyes on you- well, except spending an hour observing a lesson on adverbs with a dozen wasps circling overhead. Yup, there are wasp nests in the rafters of this classroom. The teacher and students just disregard them and I tried to as well. It was a little harder to keep a straight face when the sounds of “clippity-clop, clippity-clop” were heard overhead as a goat had made it’s way on to the school’s tin roof.
My favorite part of that day was actually during the first 5 minutes of the Primary 4 lesson. The teacher was very progressive and had a full lesson plan prepared beginning with a warm-up song- (hey, I might not even be needed here, this is already child-centred learning, I thought to myself). He had the students sing “The animals go marching two by two, Hourrah, Hourrah”(*It is to be noted that due to the Rwandans common interchanging of the letters “L” and “R”, he was in fact singing “Houllah, Houllah”). The students had to pick a partner of the opposite gender and parade them around the room. Imagine my surprise when a four-foot nothing charming young boy, waltzed over to me and insisted that I be his partner for the Hourrah, Hourrah. I got quite the chuckle out of his bold assumption and proceeded to dance around the room quite contently. (Hey is that an adverb?)
It always amazes me, when I first visit a school and I’m on the yard with hundreds of little ones (P1-P3)-who are staring at me as if I have three heads- that one or two are courageous enough to walk up to me and shake my hand. I often wonder if this would be a good way to assess leadership ability. Why are some too afraid, too bashful, too insecure and others quite confident and self-assured? Needless to say, the three-headed red-haired mutant always smiles and says “Good morning!” which prompts about a dozen others to suddenly be struck by the boldness too. At lunch, watching the sea of children part as Emile made his way over to me on his moto with my escape vehicle was a bit of a welcome relief. This particular school is the largest one I will visit with a population of 2170 students and 38 teachers. I am heading back their tomorrow- wasps, Casanova eight year olds, labcoats and all.