Well, it took the better part of two weeks, but I finally have a better grasp on what goes on at Shikokho Secondary. I arrived in the village last Tuesday, and on Wednesday the principal walked me over to the school to meet the staff. As we approached the school we were met by a group of about 40 students walking in the opposite direction. Thomas murmured: “They are being sent home because they do not have their school fees.” In Kenya, even a public school like Shikokho Secondary is not free. Fees for the year are only 10,000 shillings (roughly $100), but even this small amount can be very difficult to come up with. Walking past them, knowing that I had spent over twice the cost of their year’s education in town the previous day, was an awful feeling. I quickly sympathized with the principal’s predicament, however. Many of the parents have the money, but are reluctant to give it up. It appears that paying school fees can sometimes turn into a game of who-can-pull-one-over-on-the-principal, which will only come back to bite Thomas when government auditors inspect the books. So Thomas has to be tough, but he is fair; if a parent can come up with at least 1,000 shillings by the beginning of school the child is allowed to start classes.
Thomas then introduced me to the Director of Studies, Mr. Mwimani, who is also an English teacher. After a brief discussion of my college studies (Thomas: “Maybe you can start an environmental club.” Hey, now there’s an idea…), we agreed that I will be teaching English, and Mr. Mwimani showed me into the staff room, where I met a few of the other teachers, including his wife and fellow English teacher. I didn’t make the connection until later, but Thomas had warned me about the Mwimanis. They were appointed to Shikokho by the government and therefore are not directly employed by the school. “They are very lazy,” Thomas had said. “You will see the wife playing games on her phone all day long.” I was officially introduced to only one or two other teachers, as most of them did not arrive until later in the morning (if at all). To my slight irritation, it does not seem to be Kenyan culture to tell someone your name when you first meet them. I shook hands with over a dozen people that day and came out with zero names to show for it (apart from the Mwimanis). It was a fitting start to a week and a half of confusion and frustration.
Basically, Kenyan schools open in early January, but nothing really happens until two weeks later. The first week the teachers cannot do much teaching, as three quarters of the students are absent due to lack of fees. The second week is devoted mostly to exams, with official classes starting on Friday. Nobody bothered to explain any of this to me, however, so I spent those two weeks sitting in the staff room wondering why in the hell nobody was doing anything. I taught one class on Friday of the first week, which was exciting and went fairly well (despite the fact that I was not informed until I was stepping into the classroom that this was a double period—meaning 80 minutes instead of the usual 40). The rest of the time, however, was spent perusing textbooks and making my way through the books on the required reading list I obtained from the very friendly and helpful librarian (really wish I knew her name, but like I said, no one seems to think this information is very important).
On Wednesday of this week we had a staff meeting with the principal and all but two of the 28 teachers. Like what has been happening a lot in the staff room, I did not realize anything was going on until I glanced up and noticed that the principal, vice principal, and director of studies were sitting at a table at the front of the room. At least five times since being here I have glanced up from my book/phone/lap (it’s been a very boring couple of weeks…) and been shocked to find that someone is making an announcement to the whole group. I guess it’s another cultural difference, but so far I haven’t noticed any voice-raising or any “Hey, listen up” when announcements need to be made—in fact, it’s almost as if people lower their voices when speaking to a group. I suspect this is partially because I am still not used to accent, but I couldn’t hear half the things that were discussed at the meeting—which is unfortunate, because I have listened to the same man ask the teachers to turn in their money for something at least three times and I still haven’t the faintest idea what he wants.
Wednesday afternoon we met for the first time as an English department—four other teachers—to determine the teaching schedule (over a week into the term, yes). The meeting did not go like I had hoped and left me feeling more confused and frustrated. As Peter and I had discussed, I was hoping to take two streams of Form 2 (so, two classes of around 50 tenth-graders). At 12 lessons a week, this would be enough to keep me busy without being overwhelming. The other English teachers, however, decided that I would not have any classes of my own, and instead would randomly choose lessons to teach from their classes—six times per week. I was taken off guard and agreed, thinking they knew what was best for the students. I thought it might make sense to spread out my time amongst the students so that they could all be exposed to my accent/insight. As I thought about it that night, however, I realized how much I would hate this plan. First of all, it would be confusing and a giant hassle to coordinate with the others which lessons I would be taking that week. Second of all, spreading out amongst 600 kids would make it nearly impossible to get to know any of them, and half the reason I’m here is to develop meaningful relationships with the students. THIRD of all: six lessons a week? Sorry, but I did not cross an entire ocean to spend a year doing only 4 hours of work per week.
Not. Happening.
Luckily, I have Peter on my side. As Peter grew up in the village and is well educated and successful, he is a highly influential member of the school board. I let him know the situation and he spoke with Thomas. Thomas agreed with our view of things, and Thursday afternoon Mr. Mwimani came to tell me that I had been given the Form 2 Blue class (each form is separated into the Blue, White, and Green group). When I indicated that I could handle more than just the one stream, and he said they will still have me do the spreading-out randomly thing. Peter and I are still of the opinion that this will be a big waste of time, so he plans on coming by the school next week to speak with Thomas again and make sure I am ok (there is an issue with my living situation right now but I’ll fill you in on that later).
After teaching my first class with Form 2B yesterday and seeing their exam scores, I know I have my work cut out for me. The class went fine, although there was a lot of whispering and giggling when I turned to write on the board—what I perceive as excitement to have the mzungu teacher. I also had to double their homework because not a single one of them bothered to take notes during what I carefully explained was a note taking exercise. The test scores from earlier in the week were, frankly, miserable. The highest grade was a 73 and the class average was a 48. From what I can tell, the low scores can be attributed to three things: one, the test itself was riddled with errors and was obviously not written by anyone with a thorough understanding of the language. For example, do you know how to spell the word “fundamental?” Well, it is not “fundermental,” as was written on the test. Whoever conducted the exam had gone through and explained where to make corrections, but if the student had missed any of those they were, well, screwed (I was lenient on those mistakes). Second, it is my perception that lower scores are simply more acceptable here: case in point, there is such a thing as receiving an “E,” and it is considered passing. Third—and it’s impossible at this point to determine if this is the fault of the teachers, the whole system, or the hardships of rural life—the students are simply not learning as much as they should be. For example, the lesson I taught yesterday was out of the Form 1 textbook because they had not made it through all the material in the previous year.
So, it looks like I have a busy year ahead of me, with plenty of room to help the students grow!
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