ECOLE MATERNELLE, Christmas (Take II)

Noël du Monde

My cousin Sarah, a former teacher, gave me many posters to share with the children in Aru. Among them were a set of images showing children around the world at Christmas time. For the two older classes, I summarized short stories of how Christmas is celebrated in Germany, Hawaii, Mexico, Sweden, Netherlands, Japan, Israel, Russia, England, and the United States. Describing and convincing them that snow actually exists in other parts of the world was difficult. And they definitely didn’t understand the snowman. It’s okay. Their complete silence for almost 20minutes was enough to let me know it was appreciated. I also placed a large map on the chalkboard and we had a great time pointing out all the continents, and trying to find the Congo…

They seem so sweet, I know…

I realize that I keep repeating the number of children—300—but seriously, they’re a lot of work.

1) Crowding them into a hot, small room for almost one-hour of singing/repeating all the songs they’ve memorized (sometimes it sounds more like screaming than singing, but maybe that’s just me).

2) Hours can be spent on trying to get their attention and taking attendance. Projects that involve supervision can take an entire week to complete: One by one by one by one by one…and so on.

3) Bathroom Breaks. As if the teacher hadn’t spent enough time organizing them in the classroom, she has to lead them all outside to the bathroom, patiently waiting and keeping them in line, then head back into the classroom to do it all over again. “Sit down, quiet, no talking, sit…” Often the teacher bursts into song just to get everybody’s attention.

I know how this may seem. You may find yourself asking: “Why don’t the children listen? Isn’t there any discipline?” Let me tell you. There is discipline and the children do listen. At the same time, there are 50 of them and 1 of you. Think About It.

4) If the children are sick, there is no nurse. Oftentimes the teacher will lay an old, thin rug on the concrete floor of the classroom and the child will rest. If they are really exhausted, they will simply fall asleep at their table in the midst of all the noise.

5) Play Time. Imagine the number of toys they have to share—hardly any—it would test even the most patient of us. And when I say toys, I’m referring to a few Legos and recycled bottle caps.

6) Snack Time. Passing out cups filled with water (lids are a luxury we lack) and warm soup or mashed fruit to 300 little kids. These are actually their most behaved moments; letting us know how much they value a meal.

7) The Teachers. To be honest, very few of them have any idea how to teach. Granted those who become teachers are well-educated and top of their class, but when you compare the teacher-training they have access to in Aru to all that we have in the West, there are some very serious discrepancies. Every teacher is genuine and means well, but at the same time, what to do…

In any case, having been a part of this chaos for the past month, I left school the other day questioning the practicality and success of these situations; where six teachers are expected not only to control, but educate 300 students. As I was preoccupied with these thoughts, I crossed paths with a young girl about eight-years-old and was suddenly reminded of the other option: she was carrying atop her head a very large basket filled with bananas, making her way to the market, where she will spend the day selling her family’s modest produce.

Access to education for the extreme poor is nonexistent. If the family has money, the sons will be sent to school first. It would be impractical to send girls, knowing their expectations—to marry and raise a family—don’t earn income.