We need another word for Learning

Sometimes teachers practice what experts call a “bitch-session.” This is when we sit and talk about the ican’tbelievehesaidthat moments in our day. These conversations are necessary in our profession to prevent burn-out and other deadly diseases.

Here in Mozambique I have daily bitch-sessions. This does not mean I don’t love my job or my students. I understand that we come from different backgrounds and most often these aggravating moments come from a difference in culture.

A very accurate representation of Mozambican teaching. 

However, my job is to train teachers. I have a specific and detailed explanation of what it means for a student to learn and what it means for a teacher to teach. So what happens when culture interferes with the meaning of learning? Is it now my job to teach a new culture? Or do I have to bend my own culturally-defined expectations of what it means to learn?

A couple weeks ago, a colleague and I were deep in a “bitch session” when she told me this story of teaching singular vs. plural.

A student was having the trouble turning singular English words into plural words so K wrote on the board “bola” (ball) and “bolas” (balls). K asked “O que é a differencia entre as letras desses palavras?” (What is the difference between the letters of these words?)

The students response – “Bolas é plural”  (Balls is plural).

Do you see the problem? Do you know the response K was looking for?

For more background information, K teaches English to students that might be English teachers in less that 3 years. They have passed 12^th grade and a lengthy exam to enter into a Teacher Training College. They should be fluent in Portuguese and understand basic rules of English. 

Ok - so back to the question. K was looking for the student to see the structure of the rule, to identify the letter ‘s’ as the difference between “bola” and “bolas” in order to then create the rule “+s makes plural”. The idea was to identify this rule in the speaker’s language then apply it to English.

All literate Americans know this rule. This is what we learned in first grade. K attempted several versions of her question but could not get her students to elaborate further than “Bolas is plural”. Finally, K folded and said “Esse palavra –bola- não tem “s” e esse palavra –bolas- tem “s.” (This word –ball- does not have ‘s’ and this word (balls) has ‘s’.) The student quickly agreed (because it’s obvious).

What is going on here? This is a person that speaks Portuguese fluently. That uses plural and singular on a daily basis. That can identify a singular and plural word (in Portuguese) very easily.  So, why is it that she cannot answer K’s question?

It’s because the student has gone through 12 years (or more) of education without once being asked a comprehension question.

In education circles we have something called “Bloom’s Taxonomy” it might be a triangle or circle or complicated Venn-diagram. But at it’s most basic level it is a classification of learning verbs based on complexity. 

Made by one of my students. 

At the bottom is Knowledge – this refers to verbs that require only regurgitation of facts. Examples are: memorize, say, list, match, remember, repeat.

The next level up is Understanding – this refers to understanding the big idea. Examples are: explain, describe, discuss.

Therefore, K’s student has Knowledge of plural and singular. If you write two words on the board and ask “Which one is plural?” the student will be able to answer ONLY IF this word is on a long list of words the students has memorized.

If you ask the student “Why is this word plural?” she would not be able to respond.

I’ve known for a long time that Mozambicans were trained in copying and regurgitation but, after 16 months at site, now I’m realizing this is how learning is defined.For an army of young Mozambicans, who are entering the workforce,  learning = copying sentences, repeating after the teacher, and paying for answers. There is little concept of teaching Comprehension or Application, and zero understanding of any higher-level thinking. 

I feel like I am living in the real-life version of “Flatland” by Edwin Abbot Abbot. Trying to convince my students there is another dimension to education that they have never witnessed before. But, all they have to go on is blind trust.

Does that make me the Sphere? Someone unable to imagine dimensions beyond what I already know? What am I missing here?

Love love love 

The obligatory Reflection post.

September 25th marked my one-year anniversary in Mozambique. I struggled through two months of training and for the past ten months I have called Pemba, the provincial capital of Cabo Delgado, my home. I figure now is as good of a time as any to reflect.

Reflect on what? I have no idea. I have had no great epiphanies. The “OMG I live in Africa” moments are frequent and random. The most recent one occurred when I was learning how to needle point with my REDES group.

Every time I sit down to write a blog, I know I will fall short of trying to explain Mozambique. You can read all the books, all the blogs and you will have very little idea of what it is like to live in Mozambique. I can explain carting water, but you can’t feel the bucket pushing onto your scalp. I can describe xima, but you won’t feel the grains between your fingers. I can photograph my young neighbor, but you can’t hear her laugh. You can look at maps, but you will never know what it’s like to stand on the sandy street and feel so disconnected from everyone around you.

I cannot explain Mozambique because I don’t even know Mozambique. There is an enormous wall mudded with languages, cultures, and history that I will never be able to scale. I will never be able to accurately communicate my experiences here because I cannot fully explain them to myself.

Before I fall down the endless pit of deconstruction, let me say one thing. I am happy. I know. Strange, right? But this is what Mozambique (or maybe PC in general) does to you. You can discuss extending for a third year or ET-ing (Early Termination) in the same breath and be completely sincere about both options.

For me, at the moment, I am happy. There are several reasons: friends, work…no bills. I have had more vacation in the last 12 months than I did between 2008-2012. However, I think the most important reason is that I don’t expect to save anyone.

I recently saw a post on FB that resonated with me. At the time I was getting frustrated with my work at the school and my secondary projects. Then this gem fell into my lap,

"If you've come here to help me, you are wasting your time. But if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together." Lilla Watson

This was the reminder that I needed. I entered the Peace Corps with a very solid understanding that I was going for myself and no one else. If you are here to change or help others, you will be frustrated 99% of the time. Why?

Because most Mozambicans don't really want our help. And that's totally fair. Not to say what my work, or that of other PCVs, isn't important. But if my sole purpose for being here is to help in a completely altruistic sense of the word, then I am ignoring a lot of what this experience really is.  Being in Mozambique, for me, is about the experience: I'm learning a second (maybe a third) language; I'm cooking food I never new existed; I'm learning about a new culture. Notice those are all benefits for me, not my host country. Mozambique is giving me way more than I will ever be able to give it. As long as I can remember this, I think I'll be ok. 

So, one whole freakin’ year in Mozambique. What is there to reflect on?

Well…

- Training is hell on earth.

- It’s ok to cry.

- Mozambicans peel their oranges with a knife.

- Mozambique is beautiful.

- There’s also a lot of trash.

- Mozambicans will ask you for the shoes on your feet. And they are serious.

- Pemba is hot as balls.

- My family is the most supportive family ever.

- New Years really did happen.

- It is possible to learn a second language, and maybe a third.

- Men are assholes anywhere you go.

- But there are also some incredible men in this world, too.

- Hand-games are universal.

- Friendship is hard work.  

- It’s ok to ask for help. In any language.

- That time I cussed out a chapa driver.

- Want to get to know someone? Cook them food.

- That time a private ride turned into 4 boleias. 

- Friends surprised me for my birthday.

- I actually planned an event that went smoothly.

- I’m a cat person?

- This is my life now. 

love love love 

Estou a Pedir uma Boleia

Ok Mom, Dad - I need you to not read this post. I love you and I don't want you to worry about me so, for your own well-being, just don't read this.

Now, for the rest of you, uma boleia is a free ride or hitchhiking. Now in the US this might be associated with kidnappings and serial killers, but here in Mozambique it's associated with air conditioning and leg room. Uma boleia can be a five minute drive to the end of the street or a two hour journey to the capital.

Whichever it is, each time is like a new social experiment. Who will pick me up? Will they be a chatter? Will they ignore me? Will they be Mozambican or foreign? Within five minutes, will they love or hate me?

I won't lie; boleia-ing isn't guaranteed to be a safe form of transportation. In Mozambique travel is always risky. Of course, there are ways to reduce risk. Mom, Dad since I know you're reading this I'll list them here: 

1. Talk with the driver before getting in the car and check for alcohol

2. Always ask where they are going instead of giving your destination

3. Say no thank you if you feel at all uncomfortable

4. (My favorite) If you're in the car and want to get out claim that Estou a fazer xixi! I have to pee! 

So yes, there is a risk but for Volunteers in small villages this is the only option to travel. And for me, when I've walked in 100 degree weather with bags full of rice and potatoes, boleia-ing is a really really nice option. So good in fact, I have not taken chapa since my first week in Pemba. 

I shouldn't give you the wrong idea.

Boleia-ing is not that common. Common among Volunteers? Yes. Common among Mozambicans? No. The fact that a Portuguese couple would take my friend and me on a two hour ride to Nampula - directly to the airport- has a lot to do with my skin color, gender, and nationality.

Should I feel guilty about taking advantage of this unfair benefit? In some ways I do. Especially when chapas - cramped, hot, smelly, and costly- are so readily available to me.

Buuuut…. did I mention the air conditioning and leg room? What are your thoughts? Am I abusing my status by taking boleias? Am I missing out on an opportunity to integrate by not using the chapa?

Can you imagine cramming into a chapa for your daily commute? I haven't actually taken a picture from inside a chapa, but this one that I found at http://www.world-around-us.ca/what-i-love-about-maputo-lisettes-top-ten/ is a perfect representation of every chapa I've ever been in. 

love love love

Asking for Help is Never Easy. Except in Portuguese.

In Portuguese when you ask for help, you don't ask for it directly. For example to ask for a pen one would say Estou a pedir uma caneta this literally translates to I am asking for a pen. I first encountered this estou-a-perdir-ing technique from my host sister, E. When I first met her she never spoke, just stared. After a week, when she saw me in the morning she would put her had out and say Da, meaning give. Then after two weeks (and she really got to know me) it was Estou a pedir caneta, Estou a pedir computador, Estou a pedir papel.

It never bothered me. I liked the attention from E and my other irmãos. When they asked for a pen and paper, we colored for an hour. When they asked for the computer, we took pictures on Photo Booth.

Like this!

I was happy to provide entertainment to my host siblings. My favorite pedir came from my youngest irmão D, "Mana Rayna, estou a pedir o luz para fazer xixi. After a few minutes of silence and a few hand motions, I turned on the bathroom light and D went xixi.

I'm getting a bit off track.

My point is that here in Mozambique asking a friend, neighbor, stranger for help is a common part of life. The American in me is dying of embarrassment and loss of pride to ask my neighbor of only three weeks for help burning my trash (more on that - I promise!). But in Mozambique, where the "unified" government is younger than I am, people have learned to support their neighbors because one day (probably tomorrow) they will also need help. And they're not going to get it from anywhere else.

This cultural norm does have a negative side. When I didn't understand E's way of greeting me, I asked my Portuguese teacher what she meant. With some discomfort, he explained that as a foreigner, I am seen as rich and therefore able to give. Give what? Anything. Everything.

More than once I have been asked for my sandals (Not my Chacos!) and the food in my hand (on it's way to my mouth). The people that ask are not beggars. They are teenagers walking down the street, old women waiting for a chapa, and annoying crianças outside my door. The way they ask is eerie and nonchalant, as if they don't expect or even care if you give them the requested item. This isn't begging, it's testing. It's as if they ask just in case you are willing to give up the shoes on your feet or the food in your mouth.

I've learned to roll my eyes at the random pedir-ing from teenagers, but when it's an older woman asking for food, I pause. How many times has she asked a stranger for help? How many times has she received it? How many times has she given it? Is she really hungry? Or is she just testing me?

Obviously, I'll never know the answer to these questions. I just hope one day I'll be just as comfortable asking the question.

love love love

The Little Things

The last two weeks of training have been spent at Model School. For six days, eighty school age children have woken up before 7am, during their summer vacation, to listen to 51 American butcher Portuguese. What could be the benefit to all of this?

Cookies. What else?

I'm not sure how the students have felt these (quasi) two weeks, but I'm having a blast. Being in front of the classroom finally feels natural. Something has aligned in the universe and it's pointing towards a blackboard. Four other English trainees and I were assigned the ninth grade. We have all taught atleast 3 classes. Ninth grade tends to be smaller then eighth and tenth because there are no national exams for the ninth grade. So I guess my five students really like cookies. I have already become attached to them. I brag about their progress, the jokes they make, and their good behavior. I have one student that speaks fluent English; she's originally from South Africa. I asked her the first day, "Why are you here? Do you have a volunteer for a brother or sister?" " No," she replied, "I just want to learn more."

whoa.

Today was the last day of Model School. We passed back our seven question test, certificates, and more cookies to the students. Then we just got to hang out and chatted with them. Of course, my Portuguese being the way it is, I wasn't able to have the best conversations, but at the same time the students were very patient with me and we were able to talk about Namaacha, America, and where I'll be living in Mozambique. Several students really cared about their grades, even though it has no effect of their actual school grade. There was a genuine interest to learn from every student, no matter the grade they earned.

             Students reviewing their test scores. 

These test have zero affect on their actual school grades. 

Escola Modela 9a Turma A 

I hope this doesn't sound too much like bragging, but I have to mention this. Two of my students (top picture) wrote me the nicest letters! One was from the student mentioned earlier, and another from a lower-level student that I hadn't talked with outside of class. I cannot believe how thoughtful those girls are! It really shows you that you never know where, when, or how you will impact someones life.

Love love love

Small Victories

I've heard over and over again that surviving in Peace Corps is all about lowering expectations. This isn't meant to be a bad thing. What's happening is that our lofty goals of changing the world are smacked around by reality. Goals go from erasing illiteracy in Maputu to passing 70% of your 10th graders. Ya know, things that are actually possible.

For me, the biggest struggle/fear is language. I really believed that the magical Peace Corps training would have me fluent by the end of 10 weeks in a language I knew VERY little. Now, with the training almost half way over, my expectations are going to have to change. Maybe I won't be fluent by the end of 10 weeks, but I'll be able to give lessons, or at least with a script. I won't be able to talk about philosophy, but I'll ask about the weather, or maybe, I'll be able to buy food. Maybe I'll be fluent after 1 months in service. 6 months? A year?

The point is, I don't know. Fluency is this transient thing between me and happiness. Every time I think I'm progressing, I'm faced with another word I don't know, or pronunciation I keep forgetting, or conjugation I mess up.

Rather than be overwhelmed by the impossibility of fluency within 10 weeks, I'm deciding to celebrate the small stuff. For example, today I bought phone credit by myself. Usually, this is a simple process of just finding a guy wearing a yellow vest, saying "vodacom" and handing him 50 MT. BUT this time was different. I found out our neighbor sells credit, so rather than walk all the way over to the Supermercado, I can go next door. BUT it's not that simple. I've discovered that our "neighbor" is actually a small village, and there's about 5 small houses behind a large house. (Who knew?!) I'm sure you're dying to know how I pulled off this very do-able task.

First, I asked my sister what's the name of our neighbor that sells credit. Como se chama nosso vencina que vende credito?

After asking her to repeat the name, I asked if she knew if the neighbor was home and if I could visit her. Conhece si esta ale? Esta bom si eu visita?

M replied that it was fine, and after repeating the name (I've forgot it) I walked over. I passed the large fence and entered through the driveway. It looks like your average house until you pass the garage and see a stretch of cement houses; then your realize it's an entire community.

I saw a woman washing laundry. Before asking if the neighbor was here, I did the obligatory hello how are you questions. Ola, como esta? Tudo bem aqui. Obrigada. Eu estou a buscar para "Name". Eu prefero comprar credito.

The woman very clearly said "She's right here," and from behind a corner out popped the neighbor that sells credit. I had met her once before with my irmao. She came over to me and asked what I needed. Tem doscentos para Vodacom? I spoke in a complete sentence!!

I even introduced myself as we completed the transaction and went on my merry way. It was a simple conversation but I had no friend, no mae, no irmao to step in if I need them. Victory!

Love love love

P.S. Sorry for the missing accents. My teacher would not be very happy right now, but I don't know how to type them in blogspot, or word. I'm working on it :)

Communication is Key

Several people have asked how to keep in touch with me while I'm away and, like many questions, I'm not sure of the best answer. Internet seems to available for many PCVs in Mozambique, but not guaranteed. Even if it is available, there's no telling what programs will end up working best. So, here I will list all of the potential ways that we can keep in contact, but know that these will most likely change.

If you can, download Whatsapp and Viber - these are apps that work with your phone number and allow you to text/call internationally for free. As soon as I get a phone number in Moz, these apps might be helpful.

Facebook (duh)

Email (best for now) - rleeketchum@gmail.com

Skype: rayna.ketchum

Mail (September 27-December ?) -
          Rayna Ketchum, PCV
          Corpo Da Paz/US Peace Corps
          Avenida Zimbabwe 345
          C.P. 4398
          Maputo, Mozambique

Love you all! Please send stories and pictures of life at home!

- Rayna