The End of Teaching 24 June 2016

         I walked out of Hakfen Secondary School’s gate today and realized: this is the end! While I will teach in other schools in other places in other countries, I am done teaching 9^th grade here. (pause) It is slowly sinking in with waves of relief and sadness. Some things I am thankful to say goodbye to; however, most things I am sad to leave behind.

         So, let’s start with the things I am glad to be leaving behind in the Ethiopian school system:

         For starters, not having a schedule that remains a schedule. Things were never planned which was both frustrating and annoying. I usually found out things were happening tomorrow…. or today…. which throws my American schedule-oriented brain. The mid-exam got moved. School started late. However obnoxious this was, it allowed me to relax, take a breath, and build confidence in my ability to be flexible to change. So, yes I am looking forward to more of a schedule, but I did learn a lot from having an inconsistent/random/changing one.

         Standing in doorways is a thing here. I don’t know why, but the doorways are always clustered with people even if the steps or room are completely open. I have needed to get something from the staff lounge and can’t get through the one or two people blocking the way. However, just yesterday I realized that I had stopped in the middle of the doorway for no apparent reason. Guess I’ve integrated, or I’m going to need to make sure I don’t do this in the States.

         The way the grades were divided were: 5% Attendance, 10% Homework, 10%Assignment, 5% Short Test, 5% Short Test, 25% Mid Exam, and 40% Final Exam. Students had to have 50% to pass the class. Everything I did in the classroom only accounted for 35% of the students’ grades. However, there was some flexibility that allowed me to make the most of this 35%. For example, only two short tests scores were recorded. Traditionally one would be before the mid-exam and another before the final. I gave a short test at the end of every other chapter. This allowed me to have 4 test scores for each student that I was able to choose the top two scores to record. I was also allowed to add extra credit for the students that came the day after holidays, and use participation as part of the assignment grades. While the breakdown of grades was constricting and really frustrating for students that don’t test well, it was pretty straightforward.

         Okay, I guess those aren’t big complaints, but what can I say, there really aren’t that much to complain about.  Some things really are two-sided with their “cons” also contributing to the “pros” in my books.

         The main example of this would be the textbook. (Con) The material was often in an odd order, lacking in details, or missing relevance to students’ lives.  This lead to me finding additional resources to research topics, spend hours trying to find an easier and more logical explanations.  However, (Pro) I had complete freedom with the curriculum. I could reorganize it any way that I wanted to. I could make my own schedule while filtering in the four language skills (listening, reading, speaking, reading) and various activities into each of the activities even if they weren’t originally in them. I wasn’t restricted to teaching to multiple tests, because the test was made after we taught. This freedom (and almost expectation) of recreating or creating anew curriculum is going to be hard to give up.

         Along with the freedom of curriculum, was the sheer fact that I have only been teaching English. (Con) Before Peace Corps, I was an elementary school teacher and/or substitute. I loved doing science projects, writing goofy history songs, and figuring out how to make long division not so tricky. I still miss these things. It is probably why so many of my teacher friends aren’t English teachers. I missed other subjects to the point that I daily asked other subject teachers what they were teaching. I’ve learned that an unfertilized ostrich egg is the largest single cell organism (thanks to Biology teachers) and how to calculate cos, sin, and tangent without using a calculator (admittedly not very well) from math teachers. While I do miss other subjects (Pro) I love that I can spend hours preparing a lesson plan that will be used three times in a day strengthening it and many were used for a second year. I love that I can be passionate about one subject, while incorporating others, and thus grow greatly in that field. I went to college thinking I wanted to be a 3^rd grade teacher. I have taught for two years as a 9^th grade teacher and think maybe middle school would be fun, if I want just one topic and to have younger kids. Next year in 5^th will be an adventure to figure out where my heart for teaching lies.

         Another (slightly strange, but totally relevant) example would be chalk. (Con) Dust would daily get in my eyes, on my clothes and pretty much everywhere. Granted I am white, so this lead to many jokes about chalk not being that big of a deal for me. Due to the fact that chalk dust is down right obnoxious and logistically takes time to erase the board, (Pro) I developed the skill of organizing lessons and board space to minimize dust and maximize learning. While I planned out lessons, I would also keep track of what I was writing and how important it would be. Many things can be reviewed orally only, but sometimes it is important to write the review so that examples are already being built for today’s lesson that builds off of that. Ethiopian students are conditioned to write whatever is on the board; however, this takes too much time, and also prompted me to be very clear what I wanted written in exercise books or just reviewed. Thanks to chalk dust, I am a much more organized and scripted teacher.

         Probably what people assume would be the biggest con would be my class sizes. Most people would be right. Having 3 classes that averaged 73 students in each was tricky on so many levels. Correcting exercises books would take a whole day to look through. Grading exams made me cross eyed and thinking ABCAD BBAADCACD long after I turned out the lights. Figuring out how to write on the boards so all students could see gave me a refresher course in angles while preventing cheating on such close quarters made me slightly agitated. Names were hard to get straight and then figuring out which Rahel was who when there were 6 in one class just complicated matters. But whenever I walked in the class, heard kids get excited that it was English time, have kids by for erasing the last classnotes, and heard them respond “Good morning, Teacher” it didn’t matter that much that there were so many. True, they didn’t like the new way I arranged desks so there were 9 or 12 T-shaped groups in the class when I first did it, but it didn’t take long for them to realize that it made competitions more fun, attendance easier to take, and exercise books to all be signed within the 42 minute class period. They lit up when I did call them by (the correct) name, and were right there to laugh along with the rest of class when I messed up. Daily participation was important for attendance which means attention was usually on me. If something did pop up, there were students who would help sort out the mayhem or get another teacher. I’ve taught small classes of 30 on days after break and felt out of place. I am comfortable with so many, it will be a trick to get back into a smaller class size with the size of the room being about the same.

         Then there are some things that I am just going to downright miss and am pessimistic about finding in America.

         I only teach three hours of the day for half the day. During the other time I would go get tea with teachers, play volleyball, climb mountains, eat cactus fruit or just read a book. While I am looking forward to a full day teaching, I am really going to miss the excess of free, uncharted time that many of my days held.

         Friends are irreplaceable. Sure, new ones can be made, but having to say goodbye to my teacher buddies is a huge part of the sadness of the school ending. These teachers are the people I vent frustrations to about students’ misbehaving and they calm me down while correcting the class. These teachers are the ones I play volleyball with till long after the sunsets and are always there to walk me home after dark. Teachers that are more like brothers and family members than just friends. Saying goodbye to the nicknames, fun texts, and tight shouldered bumping handshakes is something I am really thankful I experienced in Ethiopia, but know it can’t be replicated exactly back in the States.

         I love teaching. I love teaching in Ethiopia. Some days I wish I could stay forever. To see my little five year old friends grow up and be in my classes. To wear my white coat with chalk in the pockets for school years to come. But despite my heart’s longings to stay, I know God is calling me elsewhere. The lessons I’ve learned teaching here will impact my teaching for years to come in ways I haven’t even realized it yet. Some things I will miss, other things I won’t as much. It is the end of one chapter of my life, but “the rest is still unwritten.”

Where is the love? 14 June 2016

There are many things on my “Internet To-Do List” sticky note on my computer. Here are just a couple of them:

-       Average income for Americans.

-       Trump’s religious affiliations

-       Area of America compared to Ethiopia

-       Create new email

-       Youtube: “Where is the Love?” By Black Eyed Peas.

Everyday I am asked question. Many of which I don’t know the answer to, but want to. This turns into me wanting to research, but don’t have access to web browser at the moment questions are asked. That is where the first three things on the list come from: quizzative Ethiopians asking me profoundly awesome questions. The fourth I need to create as my Ethiopian friends all call me “Jessie Bruce” and I am tired of explaining my last name to them. The last one has been added in recent days as I can’t answer all the questions presented to me about the Orlando massacre, the rumors that Eritrea is invading Ethiopia and the disheveling-ness of the humanity.

Social media is a powerful, yet often sloppy resource. While most of my Ethiopia friends share a “squat pot” bathroom, have only one electric outlet in their homes, and cook with charcoal, the majority of them have phones that can load facebook and other media sources better than my cheap brick of a phone. News sources get lost among the shares, likes and opinions that quickly link Ethiopians in the States back here. Memes are taken at face value and facts merge into murky details. This leads to half-stories being shared and other images of the world to be formed.

I was told today by a highly educated teacher buddy that the shooting in Orlando was done by a terrorist. When I tried to clarify and state that the shooter was an American, I was told I was wrong as “Americans don’t attack Americans. It must have been ISIS.” Another teacher asked me to draw a map of America to show where Florida is. After I did, he stated: “So the Terrorists came across the ocean.” Again I was reminded that Americans would not harm Americans when I tried to point out the flaw in the logic. (Not to mention that the dictionary defines a terrorist as: “a person who uses terrorism in the pursuit of political aims.” )

A friend of mine who does have access to internet and news channels, has informed me that the shooter was Muslim, but, according to his parents, had been lapse in practicing for years. However, news reports are making this as a reason he decided to harm over 100 people.

I just finished reading a nonfiction book called “Zeitoun” by Dave Eggers in which Zeitoun states “… everytime a crime was committed by a Muslim, that person’s faith was mentioned, regardless of its relevance. When a crime is committed by a Christian, do they mention his religion?” Then later, “When a crime is committed by a black man, it’s mentioned in the first breath: “An African American man was arrested today…” But what about German Americans? Anglo Americans? A white man robs a convenience store and do we hear he’s of Scottish descent? In no other instance is the ancestry mentioned. (37)” In the seven years since the book was published, and 11+ years since Zeitoun first thought this, how have things changed so little?

Living in Ethiopia for almost two years I’ve seen America through the eyes of Ethiopians many times. They revel at the extravagance of a Thanksgiving dinner and presents at Christmas they see in movies. Teachers are jealous of class sizes of 25 and the up to date material teachers have access to.  The misconceptions that a developed country means that everyone is rich, has their own personal cars, don’t walk, and has large houses are considered facts. Not only have I had to explain countless times that there are black people in America, but also that we are not a perfect country. But which country is?

There are bombings happening frequently. Cops are getting shot or shooting too often. Kids are getting kidnapped, running away, left in toilets and more. Rumors are flying of invasions, while other countries are at an open war with each other or themselves. I openly admit to skipping past the posting from news stations’ facebook pages, when there just seems to be too much depressing news being shared.

It all goes back to the song. While I haven’t heard it (or watched the amazing youtube video of it) in a long time, the Black Eyed Peas were right when they asked the world “Where is the love?” Why are we falling apart when we have more ways of connecting with others than ever before? Why do we, Americans, religiously and racially discriminate, when we tear down Confederate flags that signaled the splitting of a country on similar grounds? Why do we leap to conclusions about individuals and are offended when anyone makes assumptions about us?

Tonight, I am heading over to a friend’s house for dinner and coffee. We will probably watch t.v., definitely laugh, and enjoy a blessed evening together. The only way religion is a factor is that it is Ramadan, so we have to wait till after 7 to eat. Love is in seeing people for the beauty that they are and not seeing the differences as blemishes. Love is in the simple act of treating others like one would like to be treated as a fellow human being. So, where do you see the love?

Named For A Reason (and maybe a Purpose?) 31 May 2016

Names are important. They identify the individual from a group. They help distinguish lineage even if many of us aren’t in line for a throne. Many in the 21^st century give their sons and daughters a name that they like the sound of, just like their parents did for them, so the meanings behind the names are lost, unknown, and/or unconsidered.

When I was born in Scotland, my parents took a while to decide what to name me (they weren’t expecting a girl, so they only had boy names planned out). They both hold true to the belief that not only do they need a name, but that there needs to be a reason behind the name given. It will be the name written on God’s hands and the one that will be used for the rest of their lives and mine.  While my mom thought Fiona and Shona were beautiful, Scottish names, my dad vetoed those for Jessica. I thought for a while he was slightly crazy to name me the most popular name in the US (granted they didn’t know that at the time), until he told me the reasoning. He had always wanted a daughter, but was slightly pessimistic about that becoming a reality as his older brothers had only had boys just like several generations before them. Jessica, coming from Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice’s daughter, means ‘priceless treasure.’ The merchant had everything, but nothing could be given to him for his daughter. My dad felt the same way about me; hence, I am Jessica.

Names have meanings in Ethiopia that everyone knows. Whenever someone introduces him or herself to me, I also get a mini-lesson on what the name means. Tesfay means ‘light or hope.’ Almaz means ‘diamond.’ Gebre means ‘follower or servant’ so Gebre Michael is ‘follower of St. Michael.’

A little over a month ago, Tesfay, one of my friends and fellow teacher, decided that I had lived in Ethiopia long enough, so I needed an Ethiopian name. He first asked me what name I liked, but I insisted that he give me a name as he knew the reasons. So, after consulting with other teachers and staff he game me the name Meseret. When I asked why, he responded “Meseret means ‘cornerstone or base.’ You are the base of something new.”

         I’ve been called lots of name while being in Ethiopia that made me roll my eyes (like Forengi, China, Stephani, You), or laugh outloud (like, Jelly, Josie, Yogi, Jon Cina, Jonni) and smile (like Messy, Jessie, Jessie Bruce).  Throughout all the names, there is something important about being known. I travel to big cities and hate that I don’t know anyone. I love coming back to small Selekleka where everyone yells my name.

          I have been named for a purpose. We all have. There is meaning behind a name whether that be a given name or a nickname. We partially get to decide that purpose, but how cool can it be to live into a name.