From Wednesday to Friday, I’ve spent the days busily preparing for the beginning of school. I have to admit that I haven’t done the majority of the physical work in the classroom. Thank God for my assistant Theresa and the newly hired first grade assistant, Weata. Those ladies have been busy going through the supplies and books, dividing everything between the 1st grade and 2nd/3rd grade classroom. Although I made the to-do list and sketched the classroom layout on the board, it’s Theresa who’s been “getting it done.” Don’t get me wrong; I’ve been busy too. I’ve just been pulled in other directions.
First, there was some difficulty with the schedule and how we’d fit the foreign languages – French and Arabic – in the mix. No worries – I was able to work with Jihane, the foreign language teacher, for that. Second, there was the curriculum. I didn’t do much original thinking on that task; I simply downloaded the Core Curriculum from the internet. Third, I kept adding things to our agenda for the faculty meeting next Monday. We have to discuss a laundry list of things like the grading policy, discipline procedures, the protocol for kids coming and going from the school…
Thank goodness Ed and my other coworkers are okay with me being high-strung. Perhaps high-strung isn’t the way to describe it, though. I think the rest of the staff view me as ambitious, organized, and hard-working. I just don’t want that perception to turn sour or annoyed.
Ed did take me to lunch on Thursday to thank me for my “initiative.” I bought him dessert to thank him for giving me the opportunity to be heard.
(Side note: While at lunch with Ed, Adisa called to tell us that we had run out of water on campus. Sure, there are two containers with 500 gallons of water each on site, but someone actually has to climb up to the water tower and connect a hose. So, I went without washing dishes or showering until late Friday afternoon, when the tower was refilled.)
I’ve had the privilege of working at a school that’s well-oiled and well-run. Notre Dame Academy had all those things in place when I walked in five years ago. What I wouldn’t’ give to know how AISM functioned before without things like a student handbook or an-up-to-date website to disseminate information.
On Friday evening, the last compound-mate, Linda, arrived. We were all wrong in our notion of her being an older white lady. Rather, Linda is a dark-skinned black 34-year-old woman from Miami, Florida. She’s spent some time in Kenya teaching at a school for the deaf there. And, she recently married in June to a man from Sierra Leone. Linda is very bubbly, with a large smile constantly on her face.
Originally, the plan was for Ed to take Linda out for dinner. Afterwards, Ed, Linda, Albert, and I would go out for a night on the town. (Adisa is in Kakata, visiting friends she used to work with there.) Linda passed out when she and Ed returned from dinner, and the three of us ended up just chatting away in Ed’s room.
I got to witness Ed and Albert “jam.” Albert knows that I love the singer/songwriter Amos Lee, so he borrowed Ed’s acoustic guitar and began playing “Sweet Pea.” Ed joined in on his electric guitar. I couldn’t help sit back and think I’m in Africa and this is how I’m likely to be spending many of my Friday nights. Not too shabby. Then, the men began pouring themselves some wine, and I got the hint that we were not gearing up for a night out on the town. As they polished off a bottle of wine, we covered a variety of subjects: how to deal with beggars, drunks, hustlers, and wannabe lovers; cooperative learning; curriculum; the “laziness” of Liberians; etc.
I caught myself chuckling because, even after only two weeks, I’ve got a handle on the different personalities I’ll be living with.
Ed is the epitome of laid-back. Sure, he’s the director of the school and has a vision of what he wants the school to be, but he won’t force his vision on anyone in a dramatic fashion. He’s part Peace Corps hippie, part Mr. Fix-it, part artist, and part musician. He also, at 66, is like a teenager in love. His girlfriend Elisa is moving to take over a different school in the area, and Ed is counting down the days till she gets here. In the meantime, they are having their tiffs and their make-ups via text and telephone.
Albert, too, is part hippie in the sense that he wants to acknowledge the beauty in everything. He’s a bit of a roller coaster in the love department – not being able to decide if he wants “a meal or a snack” of a relationship. Hearing him talk – well, honestly, sometimes I think he’s trying to make everything sound beautiful, but in the end he ends up saying nothing at all. Almost all of his sentences begin with “I mean” or “You know,” and undoubtedly, if you talk to him for over 15 minutes, he’s bound to comment on words/language being beautiful/powerful.
Showing posts with label Week 2. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Week 2. Show all posts
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
August 15, 2011 A Jack-of-All-Trades
The faculty had its second meeting; the overall goal was to organize the school schedule, planning time for the Upper School to rotate classes and provide the Lower School with the times of art, PE, music, and foreign language classes. I have to say that I was pleased with the way we worked. Sometimes this task can be very tiresome and confusing, but we were able to hash out a schedule in just over two hours. The most impressive thing, I think, about the morning is that no one ever seemed frustrated or bossy!
After the meeting, Gertrude, the PreK/K teacher, offered to “carry” me to lunch. When someone in Liberia offers to “carry” you, they are inviting you out and, therefore, have the intention of paying. Theresa, my teaching assistant also came. We ate at P.A.’s Rib House, where I had a cheeseburger and fries!
Those two women are a riot. They’ve known each other for years and love to laugh together. They talk a mile a minute; I try my best to keep up with them and to decipher what they’re saying through their heavy accents.
I get a kick out of them saying my name. It comes out at Tah instead of Tai. I was also amused to find out that they both thought I was 21 and teaching for the first time.
They’ve both offered to show me the ropes, so to speak. Gertrude already plans to take me to Waterside, a market area where she can help me get good prices on lapa, large pieces of bright African cloth, with which to get curtains and seat covers made. Undoubtedly, Theresa will be the one holding my hand as I navigate my way through my first year teaching 2nd and 3rd grade!
I think both of these ladies represent the upper class of Liberia. They have very elegant African dresses, speak “serious” English, and handle larger households. Both are in their late forties or early fifties and have grown children. Gertrude has a daughter living in North Carolina who is a registered nurse with hopes of becoming a doctor. Theresa has two daughters, one of whom is married.
Gertrude is a jack-of-all-trades, but she is very humble about her experiences and the great wealth I assume she has. She lived in the US for several years and owned two salons, which is how she made her money. (Doing African American hair pays very well, with weaves costing over $300 a pop. In Liberia, black women can get the same services done for $5-$10!) Here, she teachers PreK and kindergarten, manages Judge Phillip Banks’ office, and employs people to sell water. She said that during the dry season, she can make $200 in a day selling water! She has three cars and a driver, several “houseboys,” and employees who tend the stalls where the water is sold. (I must note that the SUV we rode in today is the first car I’ve ridden in so far that didn’t smell funny!)
Gertrude gave me great pricing advice about having Aletha’s daughter come in and clean. She said that, for five days a week, she would pay $50 a month. Adisa and I decided to have the girl come in 4 times a week (twice for me and twice for Adisa) and pay a total $40 a month between the two of us. You sure can’t beat having someone help around the house for two hours a day twice a week for $20 a month!
Last night, I couldn’t fall asleep and finally had the inclination to clean. It took me over an hour to do dishes, to sweep the whole place, and to scrub off all the muck from my multiple pairs of flip flops. I will certainly cough up the money for a part-time housekeeper!
After the meeting, Gertrude, the PreK/K teacher, offered to “carry” me to lunch. When someone in Liberia offers to “carry” you, they are inviting you out and, therefore, have the intention of paying. Theresa, my teaching assistant also came. We ate at P.A.’s Rib House, where I had a cheeseburger and fries!
Those two women are a riot. They’ve known each other for years and love to laugh together. They talk a mile a minute; I try my best to keep up with them and to decipher what they’re saying through their heavy accents.
I get a kick out of them saying my name. It comes out at Tah instead of Tai. I was also amused to find out that they both thought I was 21 and teaching for the first time.
They’ve both offered to show me the ropes, so to speak. Gertrude already plans to take me to Waterside, a market area where she can help me get good prices on lapa, large pieces of bright African cloth, with which to get curtains and seat covers made. Undoubtedly, Theresa will be the one holding my hand as I navigate my way through my first year teaching 2nd and 3rd grade!
I think both of these ladies represent the upper class of Liberia. They have very elegant African dresses, speak “serious” English, and handle larger households. Both are in their late forties or early fifties and have grown children. Gertrude has a daughter living in North Carolina who is a registered nurse with hopes of becoming a doctor. Theresa has two daughters, one of whom is married.
Gertrude is a jack-of-all-trades, but she is very humble about her experiences and the great wealth I assume she has. She lived in the US for several years and owned two salons, which is how she made her money. (Doing African American hair pays very well, with weaves costing over $300 a pop. In Liberia, black women can get the same services done for $5-$10!) Here, she teachers PreK and kindergarten, manages Judge Phillip Banks’ office, and employs people to sell water. She said that during the dry season, she can make $200 in a day selling water! She has three cars and a driver, several “houseboys,” and employees who tend the stalls where the water is sold. (I must note that the SUV we rode in today is the first car I’ve ridden in so far that didn’t smell funny!)
Gertrude gave me great pricing advice about having Aletha’s daughter come in and clean. She said that, for five days a week, she would pay $50 a month. Adisa and I decided to have the girl come in 4 times a week (twice for me and twice for Adisa) and pay a total $40 a month between the two of us. You sure can’t beat having someone help around the house for two hours a day twice a week for $20 a month!
Last night, I couldn’t fall asleep and finally had the inclination to clean. It took me over an hour to do dishes, to sweep the whole place, and to scrub off all the muck from my multiple pairs of flip flops. I will certainly cough up the money for a part-time housekeeper!
August 14, 2011 B-First
The sound of a preacher woke me up Sunday morning. I can’t tell where he was, but he had a powerful microphone system that allowed his LOUD, repetitive messages to enter my bedroom before 9 in the morning.
Albert and I took the school car; he showed me where the nearest Catholic church is and promised to work out a schedule for him to drive me there so I don’t always have to charter a car. We also stopped in at the Royal Hotel. Around 11:30, the managers shut off the internet connection there. The reason being that they serve an $18 buffet from that time until 3pm, and the management needs to free up the tables normally used by internet users for people paying the big bucks for the buffet. Note to self: Do not go to the Royal Hotel on Sunday for WiFi access.
We, the faculty living on campus, had expected the last member, Linda, to arrive Sunday night. Turns out that our information was wrong and that she won’t arrive in Monrovia until August 19. Because we had expected to go out to dinner altogether, we decided to carry on with our plans and find a restaurant.
After over an hour of unsuccessfully trying to hail a shared taxi to Sinkor, we finally found Amos, the school driver, and the school car. Ed drove Adisa and me to a Bangladeshi restaurant called B-First. I had the chicken fried rice and the garlic naan (bread). Overall the place struck me as reasonably priced and clean…until I saw a cat run through the front door and into the rafters with a dead mouse in its mouth. Ed was not phased, commenting that “at least the cat was doing its job.”
During dinner, I think Adisa explained Liberian culture best. She said that Liberians don’t get the idea of why or concept of explaining themselves. It’s just always been a certain way and that’s what they stick to even if they don’t know the cause or reason for why it started out that way. For example, at the Bangladeshi restaurant, I tried to order an appetizer. The waiter told me, “It’s Sunday.” What did he mean? “None. It’s Sunday.” I inquired further into why there weren’t any appetizers on Sunday. Let’s just say that I didn’t get very far.
Albert and I took the school car; he showed me where the nearest Catholic church is and promised to work out a schedule for him to drive me there so I don’t always have to charter a car. We also stopped in at the Royal Hotel. Around 11:30, the managers shut off the internet connection there. The reason being that they serve an $18 buffet from that time until 3pm, and the management needs to free up the tables normally used by internet users for people paying the big bucks for the buffet. Note to self: Do not go to the Royal Hotel on Sunday for WiFi access.
We, the faculty living on campus, had expected the last member, Linda, to arrive Sunday night. Turns out that our information was wrong and that she won’t arrive in Monrovia until August 19. Because we had expected to go out to dinner altogether, we decided to carry on with our plans and find a restaurant.
After over an hour of unsuccessfully trying to hail a shared taxi to Sinkor, we finally found Amos, the school driver, and the school car. Ed drove Adisa and me to a Bangladeshi restaurant called B-First. I had the chicken fried rice and the garlic naan (bread). Overall the place struck me as reasonably priced and clean…until I saw a cat run through the front door and into the rafters with a dead mouse in its mouth. Ed was not phased, commenting that “at least the cat was doing its job.”
During dinner, I think Adisa explained Liberian culture best. She said that Liberians don’t get the idea of why or concept of explaining themselves. It’s just always been a certain way and that’s what they stick to even if they don’t know the cause or reason for why it started out that way. For example, at the Bangladeshi restaurant, I tried to order an appetizer. The waiter told me, “It’s Sunday.” What did he mean? “None. It’s Sunday.” I inquired further into why there weren’t any appetizers on Sunday. Let’s just say that I didn’t get very far.
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