Kids are Kids

No matter where in the world you are, people are people and kids are kids.  The kids may wear different clothes, speak a different language, and eat some strange stuff (eg, goat's blood), but they all laugh with joy and love being tickled and hugged. And they all cry and get angry when they are hurt.  Kids anywhere really are just kids everywhere.

There are 140 children who are lucky enough to be students at my school.  In spite of the educational standards I described before - lack of basic resources and a chaotic learning environment - the school is actually ranked 16 out of 14,000 schools in Tanzania.  This statistic is fantastic, but it doesn't tell you anything about what it is like to be a student in the school every day - the super smart kids who are going unchallenged or the slower learners who can't read and act out in class out of boredom and frustration or the kids who just need love.  Here are a few profiles of these kids. 

Sonia - pronounced "Sew-knee-a;" Sonia is sharp and speaks English very well.  She can read English easily.  She was out sick this morning but still got 100% on her classwork - how to use "ing" at the end of a verb.  This seems pretty easy - until you realize how many exceptions there are.  "Cut" becomes "cutting" with a double 't' while "snore" becomes "snoring" losing the 'e.'  She just knew these answers without having been in the lesson.  She likes Hannah Montana and her "sparkly" shoes.  She loves to learn vocabulary and is always asking for me to teach her new words.  She reads and rereads her tattered textbooks when she is done with her assignments in class.  She was the first student to understand how to play tic-tac-toe and usually beats the other students - and sometimes even me.  She likes to help me grade the papers and listens raptly to me as I talk.  I always try to give her extra questions to work on to keep her challenged.

Rehema - pronounced "Re-hee-ma;" Rehema is an adorable Muslim girl.  Some days she wears a headscarf and sometimes she doesn't.  Because of the Muslim population in Tanzania, women don't show their knees - so no shorts for tourists even on hot, hot days.  When "shorts" was a vocabularly word that I explained by showing where "short pants" go above the knee - and that women wear them, including me - her mouth dropped open in total surprise and then laughter.  When I first arrived, she was so shy I couldn't get her to answer any questions in class.  Today was a big day.  After I demonstrated the meaning of snoring by "snoring" loudly, I asked the class if they knew anyone who snored.  She was the first on her feet raising her hand and proudly proclaimed, "My father!"  It seems like a small thing, but for Rehema, these two words were a very big deal.  She was glowing with pride since she made the class laugh.

Franklin - pronounced just like it looks! (many of the children use English names); Franklin is 7 but looks about 5.  He barely talks.  He has an older sister in the next grade who looks almost exactly like him.  Both he and his sister live in the school's hostel.  What this means is that he and his sister don't have any parents or family who can support them, so they live at the school.  There are about 40 other orphans who live in the hostel and attend school for free as part of the school's charity program.  For these kids, the education is almost secondary.  It's attention that they need most.  As soon as I walk in the door in the morning, Franklin wraps his arms around my legs or gives me a hug and won't let go.  He loves to sit in my lap as I grade papers and sometimes just sit in my lap, with his arms around my neck, and his head on my chest.  The most important thing I can give him is comfort and love.

Bright - just like it looks (many of the children have unusual English words for names, such as Nice, Gift, and Innocent); Bright comes across as a troublemaker.  He sits in class chewing on a pencil with a vacant look on his face.  He turns in his papers at the end of class, usually half done.  He's often caught in the back of the room, rough housing with other boys instead of doing his work.  You might be tempted to think that Bright isn't bright - but I think he actually is.  He just can't read, and no one has tried to help him.  I realized this yesterday when I caught him trying to hide his workbook at the bottom of my grading pile.  I made him sit with me to read his work...and he simply couldn't.  Once he realized that I wasn't going to hit him (which is what happens to students who misbehave), he relaxed and worked on sounding out some words with me.  Later, he came by the desk and was playing with a book - he said 'yes' immediately when I asked if he wanted to try more reading.  As big a day as it was for Rehema, it was an even bigger day for Bright today.  I taught him the "s" sound in "sun," the "a" sound in "apple," and the "t" sound in "tongue" (all words they have learned in class), and he sounded out "sat" for himself.  The big grin on his face was priceless when I told him it was right.  Two hours later, he forgot the word, but still remembered the "s" sound and later read "pat."  I really hope that this is the beginning of his real education.



For each of these children, there are many more like them in my classes.  I wish I had the space to write about them all because they are all the sweetest kids who deserve to have their stories told.  When I leave the school at the end of the day, I feel a bit like the Pied Piper because there are so many children holding my hand and following me home.  I almost wish that I could take them all the way home to the US and away from this system.  They all have so much potential.  And some great, great laughs.