I wake up at about seven am every day to our neighbor Fatu leaving to sell her doughnuts. I wish there was an easy way to save and embed sound here, because there is no way to accurately describe the prayer-call/hawking/gibberish phrases that are apparently "yeeeeaaaahh, doughnuts! yeahhh eat a sweet doughnut here."
Until this last week, we didn't even have to draw water very often, just put buckets out on the porch to catch all the rain that pours from the edges of the zinc-tin roofing and drips holes in the concrete of the steps.
We cook breakfast sometimes, either oatmeal with brown sugar and powdered milk (the Wonderful Amazing Heather has suggested that condensed milk might be a better option), or fried egg sandwiches, which require a small trip up the hill to Bossa Community Road. The road is lined with houses and small 'shops': tables out on peoples' patios with candles, soap, bread, eggs, biscuits, plantain chips, and other bits and pieces, as well as coal for the coal pot. On the way to the shop we always go to, I have to pass our neighbors, one of whom had a monkey as a pet for a few weeks, and also has a litter of kittens Heather has been eyeing with desire. I also have to run a gauntlet of small children who all chorus "My friend, my friend!" and require individual greetings and handshakes to be placated. It is common practice to greet everyone you meet or pass by, so it takes a while to wind my way up the path through groups of houses and yards to the road, and along the road to the shop. The Ma who runs the shop has an adorable 18-month-old daughter named Esther, who is not scared of us like most Liberian babies are (apparently white skin is terrifying, and they scream at us all the time). She comes out from behind the house to greet us waving her whole arm and beaming, and she is learning to shake hands.
After breakfast we read or do lesson planning on the porch. Heather and I have started a book club of sorts, and are currently reading The Stand, after Pride and Prejudice. I am not sure what will come next, maybe some science fiction? Some of the volunteers have put together a pretty great kindle library with enough books to keep even voracious readers occupied for a while.
For me, lesson planning is not that big of a challenge. I teach 10th grade 'Algebra' at Lango Lippaye High School, but most of my students are not that confident with whole number operations, so I've started them on a modified pre-algebra curriculum that may take us to expressions and equations by the end of the year. It's a lot like what Harvest Middle School 7th graders do, actually. I teach seven sections of 10th grade, which is between 385 and 420 students, depending on attendance. Algebra class meets twice a week for 45 minutes, so I really don't get as much class time with my students as I would like, and since there are so many of them (true confessions) I don't know most of their names. Exam week for the first marking period starts Monday, and it is shaping up to be just as inefficient and frustrating as everything else has been on campus. But despite the ups and downs of working within an educational system still being rebuilt after the war, I love my job. My students work so hard (most of them) and it is so gratifying to see them actually understand things, or thank me for explaining concepts in a way they can grasp. More experienced volunteers say that I should wait until I grade my first exams, because understanding in the classroom doesn't always translate to performance on the test, so I may be changing my tune. Even if I do, this still feels like a perfect fit for me.
We teach high school, which runs in the afternoon from 1-6pm, since elementary school uses the campus in the morning. So at around 12:15 Heather and I get dressed to teach, in our lappa fabric skirts, and head to campus. Sometimes, when we get there early, we hang out in the teachers lounge and listed to the junior high French teachers complain about their students.
School is pretty much constant semi-organized chaos, with elementary students leaving and high school students clamoring to be let in early so that they can claim their chairs before the rush of students starts. They are supposed to line up outside of the school gates for devotion and announcements at 12:30, but if it is raining devotion is canceled, and it usually doesn't start or finish on time, so students all rush the gate and push through the line of 12th graders whose job it is to check their uniforms for skirt length and waistband width (below the knees and 4 inches respectively) for girls, presence of belt and lack of sagging for guys, and correct shoe and sock color. I try to start teaching at 1:00, but most of my students are not in class at that time, and when they do come in, they come in and fight over desks, like a never-ending game of musical chairs with no winner or prize except a place to sit in class.
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| students coming in the front gate late for first period |
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| my section 10D copying their practice test review questions from the board |
When we finish teaching we sometimes go into the market to buy supplies or peruse the wheelbarrows of secondhand shoes and clothes. I found (miracle of miracles) a Blackhawks jersey for sale on Wednesday, for 330 LD, which is less than $5. So exciting! Then we head home, and I usually cook something delicious for dinner (pumpkin soup, ground pea soup, spaghetti, stir-fry, or sometimes an experiment!) and we grade papers, eat, and watch the sun go down over our quiet neighborhood while lightning bugs zip and frogs croak. I really feel like I am finding my feet here and walking my path.
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