Musings on the first marking period

With the first marking period come and gone, and the second one almost completed, I find myself marveling at the fact that I have successfully taught over 250 students for over two months.  If you had told me one year ago that I would be a high school science teacher in Liberia, I would have laughed at you.  And instead, here I am!

Though we have finished the first marking period, my work is far from over.  Many of my students failed that first marking period, and many of them are looking to be on their way to failing the second.  In my 11A Physics class, I passed only 7 out of 64 students.  This was discouraging, but I know it’s because they do not try.  Many of them have stepped up their game this marking period, after realizing the level of work that I expect, and they are on track to pass my class.  Between all of the examples, homework problems, quizzes, and review for the final exam, there is no reason anyone should be failing my class. 

Part of the problem, I think, comes from the fact that their other classes are very different from the way that we run our classes.  Sarah and I don’t put up with any crap from our students; if you make a fool of yourself, we will call you out on it.  If you are being rude or disrespectful, we are not afraid to move you to the front of the classroom or to send you out of the classroom altogether.  Another favorite of ours has been to lecture our students after class – either in the classroom or in the hallway, where everyone can watch and get the hint that we are serious about providing them with a quality education. 

My tenth graders are showing the most progress this marking period, and I could not be happier about that.  My 10C and 10D classes are my favorite two classes, and they are picking up our new Physics material very very well.  Teaching them every day is enjoyable to me, and on the days that I don’t want to go to school, thinking about missing their class makes me want to go.  My brightest students are in those two classes, and I am excited to see what we can accomplish by next summer.  Who knows – maybe I am teaching a future president of Liberia?  One can never know…  All I know is that it is my duty to provide them with the best educational experience I can find within myself.  Here’s to the next two years. 

11A  

The ladies of 10C 

The ladies of 10D 

Some of the guys from 10D 

The trouble makers of 10D.

We are still bizarre…three months in.

Sarah and I are the only two white women living in Pleebo, and though we have been there for three months, we are still shiny new toys to many of the children here.  That being said, walking by our house every day on the way to school is a must for any child in the near and not-so-near area.  While this is fine, it is also obnoxious.  They will walk by our neighbor’s homes, and then once they reach near ours, they start screaming hello at us.  You may think I am exaggerating, but that could be further from the truth – they are quite literally screaming at us.

We have become very good at ignoring them, and this seems to work most of the time.  Some still do not get the point, though, so we have to go through our spiel with them.  “Move from here” or “We are not your picture show” have become sayings that our neighbors hear from us plenty.  Some children, or pekings as they are called locally, do not get the hint, and we have to resort to “I will flog you-o!” or something equally as threatening for them to move.  Sometimes, we’ll even act as if we’re going to come after them off the porch before they move. 

Some children think that they can just walk circles around our house and we will not notice it.  That is the most amusing, simply because it is as if they think we are absolute idiots who do not notice them walk by, screaming hello, fifteen times in fifteen minutes!  For these times, our neighbors come to our rescue.

First of all, there is Regina’s husband.  He spends a lot of time on their front porch, which is very near our back porch.  I can only imagine his inner dialogue when these kids are around; before our arrival, his life was quiet and calm…now, it is noisy and full of kids screaming at the white women who live next door to him.  When he is finally tired of the situation, he will come off his porch and yell at them, asking them if they’re stupid or if they cannot hear.  Sarah and I just laugh when this happens, because, really, what else can we do?

One of my favorite memories, though, has to do with Robertson.  One day, these girls would not leave the corner of our house, continually spying around the corner and laughing at us.  Robertson was doing some carpentry work in his shop in front of their house, and I yelled over to him, “Robertson, the children are being foolish!”  Immediately, he dropped his tools and started running over to where they were.  “Move from here!” he shouted.  “I will tell your mother and she will beat you.  Leave the women alone!”  Shocked, Sarah and I again laughed about the situation.  I told him thank you, and he just shrugged it off.  It’s obvious he thinks the same thing – we have been here so long…  Why are they not used to us by now?

The entire situation just reminds me again and again of how we have the best neighbors in all of Liberia.  PCVs here, you can argue that sure, but we will win time and time again :) 

Sarah’s adventures with the tailor, Youssouf

One of the only ways that anyone gets clothing in Liberia is by buying lappa, or African fabric, and heading to your local tailor to get a wide variety of items made.  Though the used clothing market is booming here, plenty of people still wear traditional African clothes (or use the fabric to get something very contemporary made).  Sarah has jumped right into this trend in Pleebo and found herself a pretty awesome tailor.

Youssouf has a shop right on the main road near our house, and we pass by it every day, whether we are going to school or reaching to the market.  She has a good eye for lappa that works well with her style, and she is also really good at finding designs or styles that look great on her.  Since our arrival in Pleebo, she has had three dresses made, and all of them have been phenomenal. 

One dress was an exact replica of a dress that she brought with her from America (which her friend, Tressa, actually gave her from South Africa) and it seems to be the comfiest dress she owns.  Another was this great dress made with a very unique lappa that, again, looks great.  And finally, there is the shining gem of any dress ever made.  She found this beautiful blue lappa, which she intended to get made into a really full, long skirt.  Instead, after picking it up, she found it turned into a 80s prom dress.  Youssouf made the skirt, sure, but he also made a bright blue satin top to go with it.  On that, he added a very prim collar and a big black button.  Overall, the dress was just obnoxious, but like the trooper she is, she wore it confidently for a month or so.  Just recently, she took it back to him, however, and had him take off the top, leaving her with just a really great skirt :)

When I get back to site, it is my goal to get more things made.  Youssouf and I are going to become best friends, and I can’t wait to bring back some awesome things to wear in America.  Before, I was very conscious of what types of patterns or styles I wore.  Now, however, I could care less.  I’m going to rock my Liberian-wear in America, doing whatever it is I decide to do when I return.  It’s gonna be great. 

I didn’t realize the government could shut down.

In October, the American government shut down.  I had no idea, seeing as I am oblivious to much of the news around the world.  One day, out of the blue, we received a text from our new country director, informing us of the fact that the US government may be shutting down.  If this were to be the case, Peace Corps was ready to continue essential operations to ensure our safety, security, and relative comfort at site.  Sarah and I did not think too much about this, seeing as we feel very very safe at our site in the first place.

In October, as well, I began to wonder when I would receive all of the packages that I knew were waiting for me in Monrovia.  My birthday had just happened, and I also knew that my mom had sent a box or two before September that I still had not received.  Curious, and under the continuous pressure from people back home (*cough* Mom *cough* Dad), I called someone in the office to find out the status on these packages.  Due to the government shutdown, all site visits were postponed or cancelled until further notice; therefore, the car that was supposed to visit us in the southeast was put on hold.  Great. 

The government shutdown soon ended, and I was calling once again, trying to find out when I would receive my things from Monrovia.  A car finally came out to see us, with Dr. Shelly in tow, the second week of November.  Upon her arrival, she started unloading the car.  I had five packages (thanks Mom, Dad, Sally, and Aunt Gail!) and a letter (thanks Linda!), Sarah had one (thanks Aunt Mo!), and Shelly had also brought us mefloquine (our malaria medication) and multi-vitamins.  Hooray! 

Opening these boxes was fun and a nightmare, all in one.  Six boxes in total meant that we had a lot of items that needed to be mouse-proofed before we called it a night.  Thankfully, the tub we put our rice in was almost empty, so we had a lot of well-sealed space.  There, we put as much as we could fit, with the rest sitting on the table, in hopes that it would survive the night.  The next day, everything had survived, and we purchased another tub to stash our goodies in. 

Unfortunately, the room where the packages are held in Monrovia at the post office is not mouse-proofed, and my packages were proof of that.  In total, a mouse ate an entire package of chocolate chocolate chip muffin mix, a bag of goldfish, a package of crackers, a tub of cocoa (the plastic lid included!), a box of crayons, and the packaging to a pack of pens.  The funny thing was (or not so funny – sorry Mom) that only Mom’s boxes were eaten into.  Dad, Sal, and Aunt Gail – yours made it safely!  (A word to the wise for anyone else wanting to send something – please double Ziploc all food items.)  This isn’t fool-proof, but it does help deter them. 

Though some things were eaten, the large majority of things arrived safely, and Sarah and I couldn’t be happier.  Items like canned tuna, sauce mixes, candy, and stickers are all fun to receive and put to good use here.  Really anything that is a “add-[insert item here]-and-cook” item is perfect for us.  We have milk (or milk powder), water, eggs, oil, etc., here, so ready-to-go mixes are a perfect treat for us on a weekend now and then :)

When I arrived in Kakata for training, I received a text message from Becky with the surprise that I had a package to pick up.  Mom, I received your box, and Dad, I received a box from you!  Unfortunately both were eaten into – Mom, the cranberry-orange muffin mix (dang it!), and Dad, a box of Nerds.  All is well, though, because the mac & cheese and the southwestern bean soup mix made it safely! 

Though it sounds like I’m complaining about the mice, I’m really not.  It happens here, and it’s just something I’ve learned to deal with.  If a mouse eats one $1 item, and I still receive 10, I’m not upset about it at all (and you shouldn’t be, either!).  Family and friends, please don’t be discouraged by this post – I just want to share with you the trials and tribulations of receiving mail in a developing country.  And if you are deterred, I hope you take the time to at least write me a letter and update me on life. 

The worst of my boxes 

A tasty treat!
Thanks for the Oreos, Aunt Mo, and for the Nutella, Phil!

Now that the shutdown has ended, hopefully the Peace Corps vehicles will be making more regular runs to the southeast.  I know we would all appreciate it, and it is really one of the only ways they can keep tabs on us way out there in the bush!  Until then, we will wait patiently for our Christmas which occurs when we receive a package…or six. 

And we thought there were two houses there.

Our neighbor, Regina, and all of the women who live in her house are always walking by our porch in the morning to the market with baskets of dried fish, or what is locally called “bony.”  We always just thought that Regina bought the bony in bulk and then sold it in the market in order to make a small profit.  Little did we know what was really happening next door to us.

One day, we see this truck pull up to their house and start throwing large, gray things on the ground.  We could see blood, too, and we weren’t really sure of what was going on.  Being classic Liberian neighbors, we headed over there to see what was happening.  There, we came across large manta-ray-looking creatures.  Robertson was dragging each one across the yard towards the house next to Regina’s house.  We were so confused as to what was going on, and I think the entire neighborhood was amused at our confusion, for soon, there was a crowd of about 30 standing around these creatures.

Sarah asked Robertson what these creatures were called, and he informed us they are “sea bats.”  That was really helpful, Robertson, so thanks.  Seven or eight of these had been thrown off the truck before Robertson started dragging them to the house, and soon, they were all inside.  We asked him what Regina was going to do with them, and he informed us they were going to chop them up, smoke them, and sell them in the market.  He then invited us into (what we thought was) the house, and it turns out that Regina has four large smoking ovens inside where she smokes her bony. 

The selling of fish by this family made so much more sense to us at that moment.  Sometimes, if the wind is right, we will smell a very strong fish smell, and we were always wondering where that was coming from.  Additionally, Regina is always going to Harper, and we soon figured out she goes to buy lots of fresh fish to make bony.  The sea bat was an additional oddity, I think, and I’m guessing she gets a good price for that at the market.

Robertson and Sarah
...her face is the best. 

Yep, those are "sea bats." 

Sarah and I went inside for the night, marveling over what we had discovered about Regina and her job.  The next morning, I asked Robertson if they had gotten all of the sea bats into the ovens.  They had, and, in fact, they had been up until 11:00 pm doing it.  The dedication of that entire household to selling fish is amazing to me.  Regina works hard every day around her house, never mind all of the work she does into smoking the fish to sell in the market.  We sure are lucky to live next to such an industrious woman. 

In Liberia, we spy. We don’t cheat.

In Liberia, cheating on homework, a quiz, or an exam is not known as cheating.  Instead, I am constantly reminding my students not to be spying.  It sounds funny, I know, but now, I am so used to it, and I had to think for a while what we call this idea in America!  The idea of what constitutes spying is vastly different from anything else I had heard in my life, and my students and I quickly came to the same understanding about what I consider spying in my classroom.

When I give my students a quiz (of which they have two per marking period), I have to write the problems on the chalkboard and they then copy them down.  As I said earlier, I have the luxury of printing my final exams, which makes my life much easier, but not every volunteer has it that way.  While I’m giving them the quiz, I am reminding them of my rules.  For me, spying is indicated by the following happenings:  talking, looking at their friend’s paper, looking around the room, looking down into their lap (many have tried to hide cheat sheets in the pleats of their skirts, etc.), or opening up their copy book.  It sounds straightforward, right?  Wrong.  They still want to argue with me when I catch them spying. 

My penalty for spying?  I take your quiz and you get a zero.  On a final exam, I will put an X on your paper and take off 10% of the grade you have earned.  You get two X’s, I take off 20%, and so on.  Some students still don’t learn.  One of my favorite spying stories has to do with the twelfth grade physics final I was proctoring for our principal.  I had marked one student’s paper with an X for spying, and at the end of the final, he came up to me, wanting to discuss why I had marked his paper.  I told him I had seen him talking with his friend, so I marked both of their papers; talking was not acceptable during the exam.  “But Miss Moore,” he said, “if I don’t know the answer to the question, can’t I ask my friend for a small idea on it?”  No, anonymous student, you can’t.  That is spying. 

One of my favorite students in 10^th Grade D, Comfort, has my policy on spying down to an art.  As I am reminding them of my rules before a quiz or a final, she is always saying it with me.  Though I hate it when students mock me, Comfort saying “Keep your eyes on your own paper” in what she thinks is my voice is still hilarious.  Whatever helps her remember my rules, I guess.  

Final Exams (or the day I printed 12 different exams)

The school year in Liberia is divided into six, six-week marking periods, each of which ends with a final exam.  While I like how the students are having a comprehensive, structured final, at the end of every six weeks, I also dislike how the system is set up.  These students are taking nine subjects, each of which have a final exam in the same week. 

Near the end of the first marking period, we were reminded that our exam questions were due for review to the Vice Principal of Instruction.  Sarah and I wrote our exams, got them approved, and commenced typing them up.  (We are fortunate at our high school in that we can print all of our exams, rather than limiting the number of questions and having to write them on the chalkboard – it takes more time than you think!) 

To discourage my students from spying (see the following blog post), I created four versions of each exam.  That means I made twelve exams – four for each course I am teaching.  While this sounds like a lot of work, it’s really just more of me changing some numbers or changing the order of my exams.  It takes time, but I think it’s very worth it. 

While passing out my exams, I went down each row, giving test A/B/A/B, and in the next row, test C/D/C/D and so on.  Effectively, this means no student is sitting next to or diagonally from a student with the same exam as they have.  They hated this, let me tell you, but it worked out really well for me!  (Insert evil teacher laugh here.)

While my exams were easy to administer, Sarah’s were another story.  I teach two sections of 10^th Chemistry, two sections of 10^th Physics, and one section of 11^th Physics.  That meant that Sarah could proctor one room while I proctored the other – no problem.  When it came time to give her exams, however, we ran into an issue.  She teaches math to all three sections of the eleventh grade.  Liberian teachers proctor exams very different than we do, and she didn’t want one class to have an unfair advantage over the other two.  When it came time for her exam, we did the only practical thing – we crammed 160 + students into two classrooms.  I learned very quickly exactly how much room I needed to walk between rows that day, haha.  These students had had their literature exam right before her math exam, and for that exam, they were spread out between three classrooms and all along the hallway.  We, as quickly as possible, moved them all into two rooms, and administered her examination like champions.

It’s not an ideal situation, but we make due.  Final exams are not fun for anyone, and for us teachers, that’s no exception.  Grading finals for twelve hours is not something I was looking forward to, and it’s something I know I’m going to have to do eleven more times before I head back to America.  It’s fine, though – my students appreciate my feedback and I am glad to know that most of my students have paid attention to at least something I have taught them! :)