I get up. It is 6:05. “Ugh, cha!” (Ugh, no in English for all your non Zulus =), I say to myself. I turn the alarm off, ten more minutes won't really matter. I know this lie I tell myself is false and that in fact I could really use those ten extra minutes, but as a creature of habit, I push snooze on my trust and excpetionally cute alarm clock egg that does almost everything except for make my breakfast ...yeah its from Brookstone. “Beep, beep” says the 6:15 alarm; “Ugh” says me. Today is like every other day; it is new. I get dressed in my dark blue Mr. Price on clearance skinny jeans (the name doesn't exactly fit me right now..well I guess the jeans don't either) and my Old Navy beige tunic top with the black undershirt. I look in the mirror; “Not bad”, I say. Then I look at my hair and, well, to say the least, my hair does not really present me as someone that anyone would want to wake up to in the morning. Yes, it is that bad. No amount of laughably expensive hair product could contain this mighty mane. Thanks for the curly/straight/weather prediciting hair mom and dad. Love it. I do the morning yo-yo where I run in and out of my room to see if my ride has arrived as I am jam everything that even minorly looks school related into my fabulous Timbuk2 bag that I affectionately refer to as the monster. My ride arrives, I hit the gate button and I am off!
My feet hit that pavement but are cushioned by my stylish yet “artsy” Kangaroo shoes. I get in the car with the usual “How are you”s and the “Oh I slept well as well”s. My prinicipal, who is also my unpaid but incredibly generous ride giver, talks with me about the world news and about all things American until we arrive at the “Location”, yes that is right, people call this area the “Location”. My school is located in a township which is called BhekuZulu or “Location”, funny, in fact there are many “Locations” in this provience and so asking the questions “Where is your location?” when trying to find out where a particular store is via phone is not always the proper question to ask. Moving on... I get out of the car and grab my larger than life size bag from the back seat. As I am walking to retrieve the keys to my glass I meet Student A. Student A is mentally retarded, as are all of our kids at school, and she hugs me. She give me one of those big huge hugs that in America seems to be reserved for close friends and family, but no, not here. After a minute or so, I pry her off of my chest and tell her “Ngizokubona e clasini” (I will see you in class). She smiles and agrees to let me go. I look down to zip up my bag again and I notice the drool on my shirt place ever so nicely in a not so inconspicous place on my chest. I think to myself “Great, now people will think I am nursing”. Then I remember that is just drool and am thankful that the girl did not drink Kool-Aid this morning. Tide To-Go pens should come in the Peace Corps medical kits. Maybe I should lobby for those when I get some free time. Oh well, not today.
I get the keys for my class and I am open up the door to my ply-wood and iron-roofed classroom. I am thankful that is still standing everytime that I see it. There are terrible fires happening now in KZN and the soot is carried for miles and miles now. I wipe off the chairs and tables in my classroom because they now have this elegant black matter all over them. I think to myself that arsonists should get much more time in jail than they do as I scrub the soot off of my coffee mug. I waltz into the daily staff meeting at 7:45 ready to get down to business. Of course, almost everything that is talked about does not apply to me because I am not getting paid and because I am not affected by certification issues.The meeting ends and it assembly time. I stroll, not walk, but stroll on over to the hundreds of children lined up in a little skewed patters facing the assembly leader. When I say I stroll, I mean it. Because times seems to not exist sometimes here, I can take as much of it or as little as I choose to do almost any task. I am on time for everything, if not early, here. Time is completely irrelevant here but still absolutely essential. Dualism..it's crazy, I know. The children sing two songs and they pray. Off to classes.
My first class trickles in and we chat for a few minutes about Tupac, the wrestler John Cena, and how it is mysterious that Americans do not eat pap. I am trying to up my cool factor with my kids so that they trust me and are more receptive to the programs that we are about to begin. Today we are focusing on hygiene. The learners get a picture of a body and are each asked to circle on their picture which places on their body that could use a bit more vigilant cleaning. Most circle their armpits. Some circle their feet, and others circle more private areas. We talk about what they are doing to keep themselves clean and healthy and then we talk about how we can improve. We do a few lifeskills activities like the “Who got sprayed with perfume” game and the classy “Who's shoes smell the worst” game, the latter of which was not my idea. I give my class sweets, yes, it is a bribe, but the cool factor is not easy to achieve with teenagers.
My class leaves and I stroll, not walk, outside to get some water for the kettle for tea time. Yup, tea time. Happens at least twice a day without fail. I get make the tea in my trusty kettle and I sit back and enjoy my ten minutes of uninterrupted bliss. Back to work. I then sit at my desk for the next four hours making lesson plans by going through the traditional lifeskills manual and the more risque one as well. I drink tea, write lesson plans, drink tea, check my e-mail on my phone, drink tea, organize binder, drink coffee, use the restroom, and stare blankly at the wall because I just cannot think about any more lesson plans or prevoctional skills manuals until tomorrow. The school bell rings as I am having a conversation with my other teacher friends and we are off. I bum a ride, literally, by walking around asking people to take me into town because my normal ride is out. And now I am here...it is 2:46pm at the internet cafe and I am about to talk home to 14 beautiful little faces that will stare up at me with their perfectly white little teeth and scream “Aunti Christi is here!” This is my day. This is how it normally goes. This is completely fulfilling.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
A Day in the Life
I get up. It is 6:05. “Ugh, cha!” (Ugh, no in English for all your non Zulus =), I say to myself. I turn the alarm off, ten more minutes won't really matter. I know this lie I tell myself is false and that in fact I could really use those ten extra minutes, but as a creature of habit, I push snooze on my trust and excpetionally cute alarm clock egg that does almost everything except for make my breakfast ...yeah its from Brookstone. “Beep, beep” says the 6:15 alarm; “Ugh” says me. Today is like every other day; it is new. I get dressed in my dark blue Mr. Price on clearance skinny jeans (the name doesn't exactly fit me right now..well I guess the jeans don't either) and my Old Navy beige tunic top with the black undershirt. I look in the mirror; “Not bad”, I say. Then I look at my hair and, well, to say the least, my hair does not really present me as someone that anyone would want to wake up to in the morning. Yes, it is that bad. No amount of laughably expensive hair product could contain this mighty mane. Thanks for the curly/straight/weather prediciting hair mom and dad. Love it. I do the morning yo-yo where I run in and out of my room to see if my ride has arrived as I am jam everything that even minorly looks school related into my fabulous Timbuk2 bag that I affectionately refer to as the monster. My ride arrives, I hit the gate button and I am off!
My feet hit that pavement but are cushioned by my stylish yet “artsy” Kangaroo shoes. I get in the car with the usual “How are you”s and the “Oh I slept well as well”s. My prinicipal, who is also my unpaid but incredibly generous ride giver, talks with me about the world news and about all things American until we arrive at the “Location”, yes that is right, people call this area the “Location”. My school is located in a township which is called BhekuZulu or “Location”, funny, in fact there are many “Locations” in this provience and so asking the questions “Where is your location?” when trying to find out where a particular store is via phone is not always the proper question to ask. Moving on... I get out of the car and grab my larger than life size bag from the back seat. As I am walking to retrieve the keys to my glass I meet Student A. Student A is mentally retarded, as are all of our kids at school, and she hugs me. She give me one of those big huge hugs that in America seems to be reserved for close friends and family, but no, not here. After a minute or so, I pry her off of my chest and tell her “Ngizokubona e clasini” (I will see you in class). She smiles and agrees to let me go. I look down to zip up my bag again and I notice the drool on my shirt place ever so nicely in a not so inconspicous place on my chest. I think to myself “Great, now people will think I am nursing”. Then I remember that is just drool and am thankful that the girl did not drink Kool-Aid this morning. Tide To-Go pens should come in the Peace Corps medical kits. Maybe I should lobby for those when I get some free time. Oh well, not today.
I get the keys for my class and I am open up the door to my ply-wood and iron-roofed classroom. I am thankful that is still standing everytime that I see it. There are terrible fires happening now in KZN and the soot is carried for miles and miles now. I wipe off the chairs and tables in my classroom because they now have this elegant black matter all over them. I think to myself that arsonists should get much more time in jail than they do as I scrub the soot off of my coffee mug. I waltz into the daily staff meeting at 7:45 ready to get down to business. Of course, almost everything that is talked about does not apply to me because I am not getting paid and because I am not affected by certification issues.The meeting ends and it assembly time. I stroll, not walk, but stroll on over to the hundreds of children lined up in a little skewed patters facing the assembly leader. When I say I stroll, I mean it. Because times seems to not exist sometimes here, I can take as much of it or as little as I choose to do almost any task. I am on time for everything, if not early, here. Time is completely irrelevant here but still absolutely essential. Dualism..it's crazy, I know. The children sing two songs and they pray. Off to classes.
My first class trickles in and we chat for a few minutes about Tupac, the wrestler John Cena, and how it is mysterious that Americans do not eat pap. I am trying to up my cool factor with my kids so that they trust me and are more receptive to the programs that we are about to begin. Today we are focusing on hygiene. The learners get a picture of a body and are each asked to circle on their picture which places on their body that could use a bit more vigilant cleaning. Most circle their armpits. Some circle their feet, and others circle more private areas. We talk about what they are doing to keep themselves clean and healthy and then we talk about how we can improve. We do a few lifeskills activities like the “Who got sprayed with perfume” game and the classy “Who's shoes smell the worst” game, the latter of which was not my idea. I give my class sweets, yes, it is a bribe, but the cool factor is not easy to achieve with teenagers.
My class leaves and I stroll, not walk, outside to get some water for the kettle for tea time. Yup, tea time. Happens at least twice a day without fail. I get make the tea in my trusty kettle and I sit back and enjoy my ten minutes of uninterrupted bliss. Back to work. I then sit at my desk for the next four hours making lesson plans by going through the traditional lifeskills manual and the more risque one as well. I drink tea, write lesson plans, drink tea, check my e-mail on my phone, drink tea, organize binder, drink coffee, use the restroom, and stare blankly at the wall because I just cannot think about any more lesson plans or prevoctional skills manuals until tomorrow. The school bell rings as I am having a conversation with my other teacher friends and we are off. I bum a ride, literally, by walking around asking people to take me into town because my normal ride is out. And now I am here...it is 2:46pm at the internet cafe and I am about to talk home to 14 beautiful little faces that will stare up at me with their perfectly white little teeth and scream “Aunti Christi is here!” This is my day. This is how it normally goes. This is completely fulfilling.
My feet hit that pavement but are cushioned by my stylish yet “artsy” Kangaroo shoes. I get in the car with the usual “How are you”s and the “Oh I slept well as well”s. My prinicipal, who is also my unpaid but incredibly generous ride giver, talks with me about the world news and about all things American until we arrive at the “Location”, yes that is right, people call this area the “Location”. My school is located in a township which is called BhekuZulu or “Location”, funny, in fact there are many “Locations” in this provience and so asking the questions “Where is your location?” when trying to find out where a particular store is via phone is not always the proper question to ask. Moving on... I get out of the car and grab my larger than life size bag from the back seat. As I am walking to retrieve the keys to my glass I meet Student A. Student A is mentally retarded, as are all of our kids at school, and she hugs me. She give me one of those big huge hugs that in America seems to be reserved for close friends and family, but no, not here. After a minute or so, I pry her off of my chest and tell her “Ngizokubona e clasini” (I will see you in class). She smiles and agrees to let me go. I look down to zip up my bag again and I notice the drool on my shirt place ever so nicely in a not so inconspicous place on my chest. I think to myself “Great, now people will think I am nursing”. Then I remember that is just drool and am thankful that the girl did not drink Kool-Aid this morning. Tide To-Go pens should come in the Peace Corps medical kits. Maybe I should lobby for those when I get some free time. Oh well, not today.
I get the keys for my class and I am open up the door to my ply-wood and iron-roofed classroom. I am thankful that is still standing everytime that I see it. There are terrible fires happening now in KZN and the soot is carried for miles and miles now. I wipe off the chairs and tables in my classroom because they now have this elegant black matter all over them. I think to myself that arsonists should get much more time in jail than they do as I scrub the soot off of my coffee mug. I waltz into the daily staff meeting at 7:45 ready to get down to business. Of course, almost everything that is talked about does not apply to me because I am not getting paid and because I am not affected by certification issues.The meeting ends and it assembly time. I stroll, not walk, but stroll on over to the hundreds of children lined up in a little skewed patters facing the assembly leader. When I say I stroll, I mean it. Because times seems to not exist sometimes here, I can take as much of it or as little as I choose to do almost any task. I am on time for everything, if not early, here. Time is completely irrelevant here but still absolutely essential. Dualism..it's crazy, I know. The children sing two songs and they pray. Off to classes.
My first class trickles in and we chat for a few minutes about Tupac, the wrestler John Cena, and how it is mysterious that Americans do not eat pap. I am trying to up my cool factor with my kids so that they trust me and are more receptive to the programs that we are about to begin. Today we are focusing on hygiene. The learners get a picture of a body and are each asked to circle on their picture which places on their body that could use a bit more vigilant cleaning. Most circle their armpits. Some circle their feet, and others circle more private areas. We talk about what they are doing to keep themselves clean and healthy and then we talk about how we can improve. We do a few lifeskills activities like the “Who got sprayed with perfume” game and the classy “Who's shoes smell the worst” game, the latter of which was not my idea. I give my class sweets, yes, it is a bribe, but the cool factor is not easy to achieve with teenagers.
My class leaves and I stroll, not walk, outside to get some water for the kettle for tea time. Yup, tea time. Happens at least twice a day without fail. I get make the tea in my trusty kettle and I sit back and enjoy my ten minutes of uninterrupted bliss. Back to work. I then sit at my desk for the next four hours making lesson plans by going through the traditional lifeskills manual and the more risque one as well. I drink tea, write lesson plans, drink tea, check my e-mail on my phone, drink tea, organize binder, drink coffee, use the restroom, and stare blankly at the wall because I just cannot think about any more lesson plans or prevoctional skills manuals until tomorrow. The school bell rings as I am having a conversation with my other teacher friends and we are off. I bum a ride, literally, by walking around asking people to take me into town because my normal ride is out. And now I am here...it is 2:46pm at the internet cafe and I am about to talk home to 14 beautiful little faces that will stare up at me with their perfectly white little teeth and scream “Aunti Christi is here!” This is my day. This is how it normally goes. This is completely fulfilling.
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