Founder's Day

            Today the people of Ghana celebrate the birthday of their first president. They call this day Founder’s Day. What this means for me? No school!

            The rumor is true: holidays and weekends are way more exciting when you are a teacher. Yesterday I washed my clothes by hand in a bucket because the washing machine left them smelling gross.  I hung them on the line overnight, put on some comfy pj’s and hopped in my bed.  How ready I was to be able to sleep in all morning!

            At 7:30 am there is a knock on the door. A man asked Jamie to open the door because the Sister’s were not here (the Sister’s leave for mass all the time. We rarely know they are leaving until after the fact or 5 minutes beforehand).  She throws on a decent shirt and heads out to open the door for these random men. I, in my slumber, consider that my friend could be hacked to pieces by opening the convent door for men we do not know (and since no one mentioned anything to us) But instead I close my eyes and return to dreamland….

            The men didn’t injure Jamie, and she returns muttering something about how the door was already open….The men were supposed to be here; they came to work on the kitchen! In fact, these strong Ghanaian men removed the entire right side of the house’s kitchen today. They did this with a hammer. And grunting. And pulling really hard until something cracked. Did I mention the house is made of tile where every little noise reverberates?

            But I, Lizziey Brown, can sleep through anything. So for the next hour I laid in my bed while Jamie did her devotions and got ready for the day. At 8:40 I got up and said, “It’s time to go run, Jamie!”

            “Lizziey, I think it’s raining.”

I step outside to see if it is in fact raining. Ghana has had a lot of mist recently, which I  actually enjoy. But it wasn’t misting this morning; it is pouring down rain. I stand on my veranda and see my clothes on the line, getting their second bath in two days.  The sun finally came out after an hour of rain but my clothes will be just as smelly as before I washed them. I’m glad it’s a holiday so I can scrub them again! 

            So how is teaching a class of kindergarten, a class of 2^nd graders, and a class of 4^th graders? First, like many schools in the US there is a lack of communication. Second, like any school in the US teachers must not just be teachers, but also parents. Third, like any school situated in an impoverished area my students do not take care of their supplies.

            Communication is getting better as I am learning to be proactive about things I had not even thought about. For instance, I created lesson plans for this week with the books that I had been given. I then find out that my students had been given completely different books. I find this out 5 minutes before I start teaching. So I had to revamp my plan. The students had no idea anything changed, but I was sure frustrated.

            Early in the day I was told that for Creative Arts class in Basic 2 I need to have the students do the activities in the text books because the parents paid for the books and they want their children to do their work in them. I was puzzled by this statement since the art projects we had completed so far consisted of folding paper and drawing a picture from memory.  I responded that I would try to figure out how to have the children use their textbook for tangible projects.   Fast forward to Creative Arts class for Basic 4. I asked the kids to color the two pictures in lesson one because of my previous conversation. I was then told in THAT class that I am not to use the books because some students only paid a usage fee and do not own their books. I laughed a little this time.  After school I talked to Sister Esther and Sister Maggie. They told me to use the books when there were activities and not to use them when there weren’t. Exactly what I was doing to begin with.

Discipline is a major issue at school. Jamie and I joke that the rule is “Fear Thy Elder.” That joke, however, is not too far off from the truth.  Discipline here looks much different than in the US. I’ve seen students slapped with rulers, made to kneel with their hands up, screamed at, and asked to stand on a desk after tipping it over.  And, honestly, there are times I don’t blame teachers. Parents expect us to discipline their kids.  I have students who push each other, hit each other, and bite each other.  So far I made one kid in Basic 4 hold my hand in assembly for acting up (that shut him up for the rest of the day, too!).  I have those who are fighting stand next to each other until they can shake hands and make up. I’m still working on how to discipline without force, how to get my students to learn while still letting them know they are loved, they are human, and they deserve this opportunity to learn.

My students also don’t take care of things. I’ve used colored pencils three times and I am already missing many and have had two of the boxes destroyed. It’s frustrating and sad. But so is teaching in any impoverished area. But there are also little things here that make teaching more difficult. Each student owns one pencil. Ghanaian pencils are crappy. They break all the time. In kindergarten I spend most of my time sharpening pencils two or three times during the work time.  My 4^th graders are lazy, so I’ve given them a ton of work which in turn means more grading for me.

So teaching is a struggle. But there are happy moments. One of my students in Basic 2 has special needs and I love him. Another is dyslexic and I am excited to work one on one with him. At the end of the day, no matter how much they’ve been punished, all of my new little friends are excited to grab my hand and give me a hug. They walk me back to the house and wait for me in the morning. 

And so that has been my first week of teaching in Ghana. I’m getting used to the way school is run and soon I will settle into a rhythm. Ghana is a unique experience as every skill I’ve ever learned is put to use in this country. I have yet to have a boring day, or even a boring shower (I had a frog jump on me in the middle of my morning bath time yesterday!).  One night this week God painted a beautiful starry sky after a gorgeous sunset. I make sure to stop and admire the beauty every chance I get.  Each night, exhausted, I fall into my bed and am thankful that God brought me here.