early giving of thanks

So I know it's not Thanksgiving quite yet, but since I have access to the computer all the time I figured I should let the brusse volunteers and out of towners have it this week--we're getting a bunch of visitors tomorrow, which I'm excited about :) But while I have a chance, I want to take a very cheesy moment to write about what I'm thankful for.

As cliche as it sounds, being here makes me realize how lucky I really am. Not just for everything I have in the US--I'm not sure I can even begin to be thankful enough for that--but for the opportunity I have here. I get to live here in this amazing albeit difficult country, learn new languages, be a part of a kind and welcoming family, try things I never would have before (goat for example), and just have this life changing adventure all the while knowing that I have a safe, comfortable life waiting for me at home. Sure there are risks being here; at any moment I could get kicked by a donkey or run off the road by a brakeless taxi or eaten alive by ants and/or my students. But the US government gives me malaria pills and everything else I need to take care of myself (the PCMO will even send you lotion of you ask for it). I get paid enough money to pay rent and have the occasional fanta. I've already had more education and seen more of the world than the vast majority of Mauritanians ever will. When I want peanut butter or People magazine or candy, my wonderful moms send it to me (even stuff they NEVER would have let me have as a kid, like cheese in a can). And after 2 years, I'll return to a comfortable life. Of course I'll have to work hard, but we really do live in a country of possibilities. Only about 10% of students here pass the Bac (the end of high school exam you need to pass to go to college), which means that only that 10% even have a chance at higher education. Had I been born here, I'd most likely be barefoot and pregnant (literally) with kids tied to my back, spending all day cooking and cleaning. My mom Judy wrote in a letter once that as stupid as the American Dream sounds, parts of it really are true. I've been thinking a lot lately about that, and even though not everyone who works hard gets ahead in life and is able to better themselves and create a better future for their children, it's a lot easier than it is here. So although I often feel guilty about all this, today I want to express my utmost gratitude for being able to experience life here and still have so much privilege waiting for me.

I hope everyone back at home as a wonderful Thanksgiving. We're preparing a delicious feast here, and thanks to our spectacular families we will even be able to make pumpkin pie. And for the sake of Nelson/Posner family tradition, I also want to say that I'm thankful for the person who canned the pumpkin mix and who labeled the can and who shipped it to the supermarket and who put in on a shelf and the postal workers who got it here to us in Mauritania:)

New pictures

Hi all,

Not much new to report, but I put some new pictures up. I'm including a link that works for the other ones too (sorry about that!)

Selibaby

Selibaby 2

First week

After a week of teaching, all I can really say is wow. No, that’s not true, I actually have a lot to say (be warned), but wow is the overwhelming feeling.

I started teaching last Tuesday. I got up early, aiming to leave my house around 7:20 to get to school around 7:30. I still had to check in with the director about class lists and stuff, find the classroom and start teaching at 8. By 7:30, my family hadn’t finished making coffee yet. I wasn’t surprised, but I wanted to set the precedent that I had to get to school on time even if my siblings didn’t leave the house until 8:10. At 7:35, I told them I was leaving. My father said, “wait for coffee, it’s only 7:35 and you don’t teach until 8!” He kind of chuckled at crazy toubab Hawa trying to leave so early. I said I really had to go, so they thrust a super hot cup of coffee and a piece of bread into my hand. I scorched myself for a minute, then took my bread with me and headed out. I got to school around 7:50 and was the only teacher there. I should really listen to my host father more. I found the director in his office, and he chatted with me a little until I asked if I should start teaching that day. He said sure, and called one of the kids in to ring the bell (or rather, metal inside of an old tire that you bang with a stick) to let the kids know they could come in. Students trickled in and headed to their classrooms, and the director showed me mine. Class lists weren’t ready yet because students are still signing up. Go figure.

So I walk into my first classroom (the kids stay put and teachers move), which, like the rest, is a room with a crumbling blackboard and desks, the bench kind that sit 2-4 kids. Some of the ceilings are falling in, some walls are being eaten by ants and termites. None have electricity, so the only light comes through the door (which blows open and shut) and creating a huge glare problem. Some rooms have open windows (meaning nothing in them at all, no way to close them) and some are boarded shut. The kids are remarkable not distracted by all of this. At one point, a giant bee was flying all around the room and not one kid looked up at it. If a bee came in the room during one of my classes in college, the professor lost all attention because we all stared at the bee. They’re just used to it I guess.

This isn’t to say that there are not other problems. When the word spreads that classes are actually happening, I will have 50-60 students per class. They range in ages, from 12-17, and abilities. They have no books, so they have to copy everything off the blackboard (again, glare and cracks makes this a challenge). Some can barely write and spend the whole class painstakingly forming each letter while others finish in minutes, have me check what they wrote and then have to sit there. It’s hard to figure out what to do with them because it’s not like I can give them extra work—where would I write it? I have no photocopier or printer, so literally everything (including tests) has to go on the board. I’m going to try to figure out something to keep them busy as the year goes on, but for now I’m trying to get a general feel for their pace and what they can handle in one class.

This brings me to another point—I have each class once a week for a two-hour block. It’s hard to use the time well without overwhelming them! I start at 8, teach until 10, then go right next door and do the same thing until 12. It’s pretty tiring! I stand the whole time, either in the front or circulating to make sure they copy, and it’s not an environment that’s conducive to group work or conversation. I try to get them talking as much as possible, but often it’s just repeating me or reading a dialogue, so I talk a lot.

Any teachers reading this probably feel pretty bad for me right now. But I have something that I bet any of you would kill for: enthusiastic middle schoolers. That’s right, when I ask someone to come to the board to write an answer to an exercise or read aloud, every hand in the room goes up. They snap, they yell “teacher teacher! Me teacher!” and some stand up. It doesn’t matter if they know the answer or have a clue what’s going on, they just want to participate. And these are 12-17 year olds! They repeat everything to the point where they start to repeat the directions I’m giving them. In so many ways, these kids have little going for them. Most won’t go to college, many will have trouble finding work, some won’t finish high school. But when they’re in class, they want nothing more than to answer the question. This of course creates classroom management problems, but I’d say it’s better than having 50 sullen faces stare back at you while you try in vain to get two volunteers to read a dialogue!

So that was my first week. It’s wonderful and hard, and I’m really enjoying it!

Check out the new pictures if you want—there are some new ones at the end of the Selibaby album (link below), and i'm hoping to get the ones of our halloween party up soon!

Selibaby