A few words on my methodology: I have been trying to follow – per Angi Stone-MacDonald’s guidelines – the technique of “anecdotal recording,” or notating incidents of behaviors of interest, i.e. what happened, how, when, and where. It is meant to be brief, cumulative, and ABOVE ALL, objective. Needless to say, this last point is not my strong suit and you will soon see what I mean!
In addition to my inability (aversion?) to remain impartial about my observations, I also tend to scrutinize the teachers more than the students, particularly in the early days, which is what I’ve transcribed for you below. It is something I am well aware of and will take up a solution with Angi. I don’t think it’s entirely my fault however as the classroom set-up is so teacher-centered, it is nearly impossible to focus on the students individually. Still, since acknowledging this tendency, I have made a concerted effort to correct myself. After all, while it’s true that the teachers will need to be made aware of the existence of learning differences and then duly trained in how to deal with them, it is the children who need to be identified as either having a difficulty that must be addressed or some special hidden talent that must be fostered. And to do this, I must study their physical, social, cognitive, and emotional statuses.
Finally, I have also been channeling the ELORS (Early Learning Observation & Rating Scale) principles which are meant to be applied at least one month into the school year and which help to gather information about young children with specific attention to characteristics that might be early signs of learning disabilities. Thus, I have learned it is important to be mindful of the following seven domains: Perceptual and Motor (agility); Self-Management (impulsivity); Social and Emotional (cooperative); Early Math; Early Literacy; Receptive Language (auditory); and Expressive Language (oral).
So, bearing those tenets in mind, please have a look-see at some of the data collected from my first two days on the job. The rest of my notes, some ninety-something pages of scribble, I have yet to transcribe, but will provide a sampling at a later date so you can see how I’ve adjusted myself.
Read on, and enjoy!
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Monday, February 4, 2013
8:18am, we are in the Standard 1 classroom at Msaranga Primary School, just outside of Moshi town, Kilimanjaro, Tanzania.
I am late and Vumi (the Tanzanian teacher with whom I taught nursery school from 2007-2011 and who has offered to help with Toa Nafasi) is already there waiting for me.
There are 3 rows of 10 dawati or desk/benches each, and 3-4 kids sitting at each dawati, approximately 70 kids total. The lesson is kipindi cha kuhesabu (math), and the teacher stands at front of class, moving about, talking to group as whole, writing simple addition equations on the board, e.g. 2 + 2 = 4, 3 + 0 = 3, etc.)
The kipindi cha kusoma lesson (reading) from yesterday is still on the board as well, and this seems a bit confusing.
There are frequent disruptions: visitors with whom the teacher stops to chat, cell phones that remain on, a tea tray and snacks for the teachers which appears, students from other classes hanging around the doorway or peering in the windows.
The children count at the dawati using bottlecaps. The teacher says “Shika daftari lako, weka mezani, andika tarehe, acha kuongea, kwa nini unasimama?” (“Take your notebook, put it on the table, write the date, stop talking, why are you standing?”) All very typical things to say in a classroom of small children.
The teacher, let's call her Mama T, seems to be in her late 40s, early 50s. There is a second teacher, we'll call her Dada M, who is probably still in her 20s.
8:43am, after the math exercises, there seems to be no correction of the students’ written work, and the teacher starts the kusoma lesson, so the class periods do not seem defined. Between kuhesabu and kusoma, there is a long period of dead time where Mama T is drawing lines on the board and writing the alphabet slowly and deliberately.
Mama T seems to know the names of only a few kids, but maybe this is because the school year is still young?? There certainly are a lot of names to learn!!
Lots of latecomers come straggling in, maybe five or so. Most of the kids wear blue uniforms, but they are ragged and dirty as usual. Another disruptive aspect to the classroom.
9am, Mama T is still writing the kusoma lesson on the board! Kids are chattering away and she barks “Acha kuongea!” at them but what does she expect them to do?
“Wangapi wamemaliza kuhesabu? Funga daftari la hisabati. Umemaliza, hujamaliza, funga daftari, fanya haraka.” (“How many have finished counting? Close your math notebook. You’ve finished, you’ve not finished, close your notebook, hurry up.”) Hmm, this is a problem....it seems not to matter whether the students have completed the work or not....
IMO, the first problem is there are too many kids for a proper class. Second is too many interruptions. And third is that Mama T is probably not all that well-trained though she seems well-meaning if a bit frazzled/frustrated.
In general, Tanzanian teachers are not particularly well-trained nor do they have much of a passion for teaching. It is usually that they themselves have finished the weakest in their own classes and the teaching profession is the only one left available to them. At least, that's the way it is now, not sure about back in Mama T's school days. Still, it's a sad state of affairs that the peeps teaching the new generation of Tanzanians are the ones who failed their own studies. And I don't think I have to mention that they are NOT well-paid for their work!
9:11am, Mama T is now ready for kipindi cha kusoma. To do kusoma of A E I O U, BA BE BI BO BU, etc. she asks each of the three rows of dawati to read individually, so a third of the class at a time, which is good, but then she watches her stick point to the letters on the board the whole time, not the kids reading!!
Predictably, the kids could “read” the syllables in order, but out of order there was confusion. Mama T uses explicit error correction: “Usiseme A, sema HA!” (“Don’t say A, say HA!”) Seems like a lot of guesswork on the part of kids to get right answer.
When not being asked to perform, the others in class are totally checked out, fidgeting, dozing, completely uninterested, not even paying attention for when it’s their turn, unable to see that paying attention to their cohorts will help them to succeed themselves.
Dada M uses the fimbo (stick) once but not horribly. Mama T brandishes her stick about and bangs it on the dawati, scaring the daylights out of the kids (and me!) with the noise, but keeps her disciplinary measures to scolding and shaming.
10:45am, Mama T gets a phone call and leaves class to take it; mayhem ensues. Now mixing of asubuhi (morning) and mchana (afternoon) students starts and kids don’t know which section they are supposed to be in nor does Mama T. It's all too much to keep track of, and Vumi steps in to try to help. Apparently, since it is only second month of school, kids can still switch around periods but by March/April, they must choose and stick to either morning or afternoon.
10:50am, students read syllables individually in front of class pointing with the stick on the board. Each one volunteers to read rather than Mama T choosing, so obviously the confident ones will ask to go and the weak students will remain quiet and unchallenged.
More mayhem even as they read alone: the sections mix, another teacher enters, Mama T talks over the students, the headmaster comes by. The most important part of the lesson is a mess. Vumi tries to step in and help again but here, cultural differences separate the two of us and our good intentions as she calls one child mwongo (liar) instead of being supportive or even acknowledging that a mistake was made. (Teachers often call children who say the wrong thing “liar” as if they could help it! Though it occurs to me that there might be a gap in translation here and possibly wiggle room for an expanded connotation of the word mwongo....)
Now the kids who cannot read volunteer to come to the front of the room because they know that no one is listening and no one will scold them for being wrong. They get the thrill of wielding the stick and being at the front of the class without having to actually perform correctly.
11:30am, asubuhi section is dismissed and mchana enters. Mchana really gets the short end of the stick as the teachers are tired, they have no enthusiasm, it’s hot as heck, more visitors come by, kids are probably hungry. Even I am tired.
12:20pm, a child becomes ill and vomits. She had been sleeping since the start of class, totally out of it.
Mama T explains how she wants HA HE HI HO HU to be written in the daftari with the small lines and big lines in great detail which is good: the kids should know how to plan their pages properly. But she doesn’t ask the kids if they have questions about the assignment nor does she address incorrect ways of writing the actual symbol as opposed to how it should be presented. IMO, this is misplaced importance on appearance. She says “Tupo? Sema, ‘Tupo Mwalimu!’” (“Are we here? Say, ‘We’re here, Teacher!’”) which leaves little room for hatupo (we’re not here), i.e. kids with questions cannot voice them. I chalk this up to a mix of poor teacher training and perhaps some cultural differences between Western and African educators.
12:30pm, another child vomits.
1:20pm, makande (a dish of maize and beans typically served in schools) is dished out. I find it strange that afternoon students get food and morning ones don’t even get uji (porridge). I wonder if they pay the same fees.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
8:05am, asubuhi session starts with prayer, then Mama T tells the students to count bottlecaps up to ten for the kuhesabu lesson.
There are fewer kids today than yesterday, about 60 total right now; Mama T says they will arrive late (I am earlier than I was yesterday).
Yesterday’s math and reading lessons are still on the blackboard. Mama T erases the digits from the math section but leaves +/- signs so she doesn’t have to re-write them. Vumi and I think the kids are confused by this.
8:10am, three kids straggle in as well as one other teacher asking for chalk. One kid has no caps and is shamed: "Unaomba?! Unaomba?!" ("You ask for?! You ask for?!") I'm guessing Mama T is pretty tired of being asked for things....
8:20am, three more latecomers.
Vumi points out that the answers to the math problems are already written on the board. There are two sets of equations, one with the answers filled, one without, but they are exactly the same. Vumi says, “Mifano iwe mifano, mazoezi tofauti.” (“The examples should be the examples, the exercises different.) I wonder if the teachers realize....
Nearly 8:30am, I note to Vumi that a.) a lot of time seems to be wasted, and b.) the math lesson lasted all of ten minutes and now we are randomly into kusoma. Confusing, haphazard, poorly managed timewise, the problems are adding up.
8:37am, while sharpening a pencil for a child, Mama T bemoans her fate to me and Vumi. She complains about the lack of vifaa (school supplies) and Vumi agrees and asks me if Toa Nafasi can help with pencils, chalk, daftari. I sympathize, but tell her that the program is about teaching methods, instructor training, raising awareness of learning differences and fostering individual students’ talents, not THINGS. I also point out that even if every child in the class had a pencil, so what? There's plenty of class time when they are simply not doing anything. She nods and smiles. Vumi gets it.
9:10am, Dada M starts randomly ripping old posters off the wall, making noise and creating yet another distraction. I roll my eyes at Vumi who laughs.
9:12am, the headmaster comes by and Mama T leaves the room in the middle of her lesson, so we see that even the top teacher adds to the interrupted learning style. The kids are idle again and Vumi says to me, “Mwalimu mwingine, kazi yake ni nini?” (“The other teacher, what is her job?”) meaning WHY THE HECK ISN’T DADA M PICKING UP THE MANTLE OF RESPONSIBILITY FOR MAMA T WHEN SHE’S CALLED AWAY? My thoughts exactly. Vumi and I are so totally on the same page, we can now finish each other's sentences....in Swahili.
9:50am, one student hits another and is subsequently hit by the teacher. IMO, this is learned behavior: the punishment for hitting is being hit yourself, it doesn’t make sense. In fact, most of today’s class has been disciplinary in nature: much more use of the stick, much more talk of what is permitted, what isn’t, what is bad behavior, what is good....Mama T is definitely in a mood.
There is one MEMKWA student in the class. MEMKWA is the Tanzanian program for reintegrating out-of-school youth back into the system. I ask him how old he is and he says 2, so he clearly doesn’t know a.) his age or b.) fundamental numeracy. For all her flaws, I’ll give it to Mama T that she does spend extra time with this child who she guesses to be 10 or 11 and is extremely behind in his studies. No doubt, he has had a pretty tough life. He’s very quiet and I mark him as one to watch.
10:30am, break is over and I am left alone in the class with the kids going nuts. One actually climbs the dawati and jumps off, King Kong-style. A girl comes over to complain about a classmate. I just nod. Dada M finally returns.
Dada M leads the science lesson: usafi wa mavazi (cleanliness of clothes). She asks what three things are needed to wash clothes. Kids are quiet, and raise their hands to answer for the most part. Dada M explains soap, water, basin, etc. She has the physical objects and does a real demo, which the kids like. This goes to show that mixing up teaching styles can jazz up a lesson. I can’t imagine that the kids are really psyched about doing laundry but because they are not being forced into the chorus or writing the same old thing in their daftari, they are excited and energized. If we can only apply this method of teaching to literacy and numeracy lessons!!
Vumi notes that not all the kids have returned to the class after break, about five are missing. She says the teachers can't follow when there are so many kids and don’t even realize.
11:11am, roll call taking forever. TOO MANY KIDS!
11:22am, asubuhi leaves eight minutes early, mchana enters directly after, Dada M leads prayer.
Approximately 50 kids have come for mchana session today. Dada M explains kuhesbu using her fingers then goes through the equations already written on the board. She goes quickly without checking in with the kids. Her pacing is off so that I know there will be dead time on the other side plus no doubt there are many kids who have no clue what’s going on.
For kusoma, Mama T switches it up by picking different dawati around the room instead of going row by row in order. She also points to the different syllables out of order taking away some of the predictability of the lesson. The kids can’t memorize what will come next nor know who will be called on, so it’s better to test their comprehension – I hope she can see how this simple intervention changes the entire dynamic of the lesson!!
12:25pm, Mama T calls on an absent child to answer a question. Whoops! Vumi and I can't help but smirk; we're both good with names. Dada M yawns.
1:05pm, Mama T redeems herself in my eyes by again sitting with the MEMKWA student for a while, which warms my heart. Dada M is in and out of the classroom, mostly busy with the tea tray.
1:55pm, after a prolonged break for the kids to eat makande and the teachers to eat lunch, Dada M leaves and Mama T takes over science for mchana. Vumi points out that had they planned better, Dada M could have done the science lesson (at which she was quite competent) before break and Mama T could do kusoma after. Now, as it stands Mama T has done all the work and Dada M has had lunch.
Sigh.
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