Work Update
One month ago the school grounds of
Fincha Elementary were unlocked, and the registration and preparation period
began. Two weeks ago the teachers entered the classrooms and began to teach,
and just last week, I joined in on the productivity by starting a brand new
English club. To select my students I
went to every 7th and 8th grade classroom and chose 3
students from each, students who their teachers said were motivated, even if
they weren’t ranked in the top three. We’ll meet once a week after school,
and I’ll give them lessons that get them actively using their English, focusing
on conversations and creative writing.
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| My name game had an ulterior motive: a name and face record that I could study at home before our second meeting... |
We had our first meeting, and it was
exactly what you would expect from a first meeting. The students were visibly
curious about what it would be like to have me as their teacher, and I’m sure
it was painfully obvious that I was taking their temperature, both on their
English skills and on their willingness to step out of the box that is the
education they’ve received thus far. The results were positive on my part: they
understood enough of my instructions that I’ll be able to function without a
counterpart in the room, and they were willing to play along with my name game,
even though it clearly made them very uncomfortable. Hopefully they’ll come
back for more!
My goal this first meeting, other than
determining their skill level, was to make it clear to them through my demeanor
that I care about them and I sincerely want to be there, teaching them. Judging
by the way they smiled back at me and called me over to show me their work when
they were finished, I’d say I was successful, and that’s going to be infinitely
more rewarding than whether I teach them proper English. I’m excited to spend
the year with them!
In other work-related news, I’m
restarting the club I had last year for a second year with the same students,
so that at minimum I’ll have two weekly clubs this school year. I’ve also
ordered a table and a cabinet for my classroom, so that in the future I can do
my prep work at school instead of holed up in my home. Hopefully by the time my
parents arrive (in just one week!), the classroom will be a thing of beauty and
the clubs will both be up and running!
Community Integration Story:
One of the recurring activities that
continually makes me feel like I have a community of my own here in Fincha is
the coffee ceremony. Almost every day, my neighbor invites me and my landlord
& landlady over for coffee. Sometimes I sit quietly and let the Afan Oromo
conversation wash over me, or watch TV Oromia and try to guess what I’m seeing.
Other times they try to engage me in conversation, though the success of such
efforts depends largely on how much they simplify their language and have the
patience to repeat themselves multiple times.
Last week, as I was sitting in my house,
I overheard my landlady complaining in Afan Oromo about how someone never
prepares coffee or invites her over. I had a sneaking suspicion she was talking
about me, and it turned out I was right. That afternoon at my neighbor’s house
it was painstakingly explained to me that it was time for me to invite everyone
over to my house for coffee. Don’t worry, they reassured me, your neighbor will
prepare the coffee for you; all you have to do is provide the space, the coffee
and sugar, and pour the coffee into cups when it’s ready. This seemed more than
fair to me, so as soon as I finally understood all of that, I readily agreed.
In a way, I found it encouraging that
they were willing to explain all of that to me. Clearly the situation had
progressed to a point where according to their culture, I was being very rude.
I had been drinking their coffee for almost nine months, and hadn’t once
invited them all over to reciprocate. I could hardly have blamed them if they
had simply stopped inviting me over, and written me off as “that rude foreigner
who always takes but never gives.” Instead, they were perceptive enough to
consider the possibility that I was ignorant of my mistake, and would be open
to changing my behavior if I only understood where I’d gone wrong.
This afternoon, just as it had been
explained, my neighbor came over before lunch to sort and wash the beans, roast
them, and grind them for me. While we were waiting for the beans to roast, I
explained to her that while here people drink three tiny cups of coffee spread
out over about half an hour, in America people drink a large mug all in one go.
Her eyes got very big in reaction, and she replied that surely the Ethiopian
way was better! After lunch everyone gathered in my living room, and when my
neighbor had prepared the coffee, I poured and served it.
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| My landlady, landlord, and an unknown man who walked in with them. |
The amount of praise I received for this
simple act was astounding. It felt similar to the way we praise children for
finally using a fork properly at dinner. Yet somehow, it didn’t feel
condescending. I’m so grateful
that they stuck with me and helped show me how to become a more active part of
our compound community.
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| Warke, my neighbor who always invites me over, Meserat, her cousin who prepared the coffee for me, and me, enjoying the coffee and company! |
