Mere Questions, and the Breadth of Humanity

Brown and green whirled around us as we passed the villages on our way to the school. It was our third day and yet somehow it felt that we took a different route to and from the school each time. Maybe it was because the landscape, beautiful and serene, looked to similar to differentiate. In this place there is no sense of direction, no landmarks. You feel as though you’re plunged headfirst into a foreign world with only traces of familiarity along the way. You find familiar comfort in Americans commodities such as Coke and Sprite, but for the most part, all you can see in any given glimpse, is alien.

After our driver, Juma skillfully traversed the bumpy winding road, the bus came to a halt, and the familiar yellow and red school came into focus. Initially I had been skeptical of the painting of a school as the best use of time, but after seeing the clean paint juxtaposed against the rest of the colorless mud-brick buildings, I was made much more aware of the power of morale, especially in a place like this.

We exited the bus and quickly found our classes. I was quite nervous, as I was responsible for the education of over fifteen kids in only three short days. And as my experience in Uganda many months ago showed, things do not always go as planned. Our subject material did not arrive as scheduled, and so we were forced to improvise for a few hours and entertain an entire school of fifth through seventh graders who spoke English as a second language. So we split the groups and found a grassy part of the field to play tag. My ego took quite a blow as the children ran circles around my panting, an out of shape figure that struggled desperately to keep up. Soon, however, Ian came to my rescue and divided the class even more until we each had the fifteen kids we were told we’d be responsible for. Nervous but ready for the challenge I was led into a classroom where I stood facing fifteen children who I was to teach. No subject material, no lesson plan, and no teaching credentials I struggled to recall everything I could from the public speaking class I took in college two years ago.

And It worked for a bit. I had them each stand up, give their names and say things about themselves. I would encourage them to speak louder, shed nervous ticks, make eye contact, and anything else I could recall. Soon I ran out of ideas and began repeating the same exercises. But lunchtime arrived and the stress was relieved if only for twenty minutes or so.

After lunch we finally got our worksheets. At least after that when I ran out of ideas I had a crutch to lean on. I went over the basics of the respiratory system and the outline of a presentation. This time around there was a little more structure, their voices were a little louder, and they had become slightly less afraid to speak in front of their peers. I felt like a fish out of water, flopping around in attempt to transfer whatever knowledge I could. Although this time around I had the awareness that I was in a two way street, and that the transfer of information between the two parties was equivocal. Soon the day came to an end and we shuffled back onto the bus to return to base.

As the hum of the engine drowned out the music from the speakers, and the bumpiness of the road became a familiar comfort, I recalled one of the kids who had gotten on my nerves. His name was Raymond, and he tried to steal my scissors and markers. When I called him out he gave them back, but it reminded me of myself as a young trouble maker in school, always testing the waters. How the tables had turned. It was fascinating to see the different personalities at work within the groups of students- there were personalities I had seen before. Not exactly the same, as each human being is distinct and unlike any other, but at the same time there are a number of similar strategies employed over many human beings. Some were quiet, some were rambunctious- some were shy and others relished attention. The complexity of the human condition never ceases to amaze me. In some respects the kids were massively different from those in the U.S.. During games they mostly preferred singing and dancing to competition, something that you’d struggle to find in American kids of the same age. And yet in so many other ways we shared so much. It is unclear to me how deep the struggle between culture and human nature goes. But isn’t that the age old question of nature versus nurture?

If the answers are out there regarding these questions I’m not aware of them, but they are tantalizing. In a mere six days I have taken in more information about humanity than I ever could have learned from a textbook. At least, the information is different. It is one thing to understand something on paper, it is another to experience it. Regardless of what is true and what is not, I am certain that when I leave I will miss each and every one of my students. I wonder if student is the right word. In a sense everyone is a student, and everyone is a teacher. Sometimes the roles are just easier to spot than others.