Week 3 down

Nothing too exciting this week, but I have learned a lot more about the schools. Here’s some of my random thoughts about the schools and South African life in general.

The hardest thing about student teaching here is that I don’t actually have one classroom to call my own and leave my stuff in. I’m constantly switching from room to room, hauling most of my books and papers with me.

However, observing 3 different teachers is nice, because it gives me a better overall view of education. One consistency with the teachers is that they give a lot of in-class work: they’ll give a short exercise to the students, walk around and answer questions, and then go over it on the board before repeating the process. Not much time is spent lecturing or giving notes and examples; the emphasis is on practice. I really like the set-up, and I feel like it does give the students a lot of practice. However, the students here work so diligently and actually do the work: I don’t think students in America would work so hard during class if they knew they wouldn’t be graded on it.

In my math literacy class, we’re going over household bills like water and electricity. The students are so curious and have all kinds of questions for Linda. Somehow they got onto the topic of affirmative action (in a math class!) Linda saw the opportunity for a learning moment and grabbed it; some students have very strong opinions against affirmative action, and she led a very interesting class discussion before asking me to say a little about the US.

In every math class, the students have test files or portfolio books, where they keep all of their graded assignments and tests. At the end of the year, they have a nice record of everything they did all year. It’s also good for revision.

Students do their tests, and most assignments and notes, in pen.

I haven’t started teaching my own classes yet, but I have taken over some of the register classes (like homeroom) as well as some of the math classes when teachers are absent: just simple things like going over homework or administering a test. It’s nice to have some actual responsibilities, but it’s hard not knowing the students.

The grade 8’s and grade 9’s took the grade-wide “control” tests this week. Everyone in grade 8, for example, takes the same test, sort of as an assessment of the teacher. I learned how to “mark” the tests: which was incredibly hard and confusing at first. Each question has a certain number of marks (like points) that students can receive. For each part of the problem that they solve correctly, they get a mark (a big check mark next to that part of their work), and for the correct answer, they also get one or two marks. Thus, it is important for students to show their work. However, if they miss one mark for not simplifying or distributing correctly, you then have to continue working through their answer to see if they followed through with those numbers correctly. If so, the students may receive the rest of the marks. It’s incredibly time-consuming, and now I can see why teachers rarely mark assignments. However, I like a few things about it: 1) you can see exactly where students have misconceptions or calculate incorrectly, 2) students get points for concepts even if their calculations are incorrect, and 3) the answer key is so strict, in ensures that teachers grade fairly and consistently.

One thing I did not like about marking was the low scores students were receiving. This test is worth 40% of the students’ grades for the term. How can they pass the class if no one received above a 75%? The answer is that students only need 30% or 40% (depending on the grade level) to pass the class.

Interesting classroom incident that gave me a lot of laughs: Mr. Loubster, the teacher of one of my grade 8 classes, asked the class who Ronald Reagan was. I gave them a hint that he was a famous American. The students took wild guesses, from singer to artist to firefighter to the person who performed the first heart transplant, until someone said actor. I said that was correct but he was famous for something else as well. One of the students said “wasn’t he President of the US?” which then had other students saying, “no, isn’t Bush the President now?”

My favorite student question this week: “But how do you subtract 2a-10a without getting into negative numbers?” I held back my smile and very seriously informed the student that it’s okay to use negative numbers.

I’ve started joining some student activities: I do “road running” (long distance running) with the school team two days a week, “coach” the junior math Olympiad team (grade 8 and 9) every week, help with an after school math tutoring program, and next week I’m going to help out with the school dance sport (ballroom dancing). It’s fun to see the students outside of the classroom setting and get to know them a little better.

I’m trying to get out and meet people outside of class as well, and so far, everyone has been so nice and so excited to take me out. I joined an adult group ballroom dance class that meets Friday evenings: after class this Friday we went down to the Boardwalk for coffee (the most beautiful place I’ve seen, with outdoor seating right next to the water, and lights twinkling all around). A few meters away there were some African men outside a storefront playing traditional music on instruments that looked like xylophones but had a different sound.

The ethnic diversity here is incredible, from Afrikaans (or boers) to English to all the different tribes. I have a few Xhosa students in my class, and I’ve been practicing pronouncing their names: when they have the “X” at the beginning of the name, you pronounce it with a tongue click that sounds a little like a “ch.” It’s hard to pronounce that sound correctly and then make it flow with the rest of the name.

Most people that I’ve met and talked to are English, and we’ve had a lot of conversations about race and racism. It seems to me that many of the English people are slightly racist, even though I’m sure they would deny it. They seem to claim (sometimes jokingly, but I don’t think it’s just a joke) that Afrikaans are racist and I should stay away from them. However, the Afrikaans people I’ve met seem to be the least likely to comment on race like this. Casual comments really stand out to me, though. I’ve heard a couple times, mostly from older people, that the black people who live in the townships steal, and that corruption has increased so much since the ANC (this is the “black” political party) came into power in 1994. Someone also remarked to me that they have a lot of respect for young black people who are able to study hard and go to college. It was meant as a compliment, but it sounded slightly demeaning, as though it’s not common for blacks to have the discipline to make it through school. Comments like this are similar to things you might hear in America, but they always make me feel slightly uncomfortable. At home I could spend hours arguing with my brother-in-law over attitudes like this, but here I don’t feel like I have a right to judge people’s beliefs about racism (after all, I’m an outsider), so I tend to listen more. There’s also a big sense of “them vs. us” mentality. I’ve been hanging out with some guys who are my age, so I feel more comfortable having open conversations with them and asking them questions. One of the guys said that he’s not going to vote (the local elections are on Wednesday) because the blacks outnumber the whites and “their” party will win no matter what.

I enjoy hanging out with these guys because I feel like I try so hard to be polite, professional, and a good role model at school, so when I go out with them, I can loosen up and tell them the things that frustrate me here. In return, I get to hear a lot of (joking) negative perceptions of Americans. It’s very stress relieving to have someone to argue with (Holly, tell Josh I found a replacement for him!)

I sat in on one of the Afrikaans classes at school. The teacher is an older Afrikaans gentleman, and he has a very thick accent. He teaches the entire class in Afrikaans, and the students don’t seem to have trouble following along (although I was completely lost). The students have been learning Afrikaans since 3rd grade. I learned a few Afrikaans phrases: good morning, friend, nice. The Afrikaans math teacher, Mr. Loubster, tries to teach me some words, but I can’t trust what he says: when he tells me that a phrase means “Mr. Loubster is a good teacher,” he is really saying “Mr. Loubster is very handsome.” He’s very entertaining in class and the 8th graders love him. He frequently tells them that he teaches in the English school because at the boer schools, students don’t even need teachers because they finish the textbook in one day.

Weird things outside of school:
Traffic lights are called “robots” and flashlights are called “torches.”
Some of the streetlights are bright red or yellow instead of white: they’re made with different chemicals (mercury and sodium).
People say, “I’ll see you just now” when they REALLY mean, “I’ll see you later.” It drives me absolutely crazy to hear people say now when it’s really not now.
No one really eats ketchup. And half the time, they don’t even have real ketchup, they have “tomato sauce” which isn’t very good.
People SMS (text message) ALL the time. Advertisements in the paper ask you to SMS for more information, and commercials on TV do the same.

Pictures!

I finally posted pictures! My camera broke halfway through the J'bay trip, so you'll have to wait for the surfing pictures. Here's the website: http://community.webshots.com/user/afrikatie

Also, I finally changed it so that anyone can post a comment without having to create a blog.

Enjoy the pictures!

Weekend in J'bay

I want to say a little about my host family, since they’ve been wonderful. Linda is the mother, as well as one of my cooperating teachers. She is one of the nicest women I’ve ever met, and she keeps busy with all kinds of activities at school. She also takes very good care of the family, but with so much on her mind, she worries a lot. Rob is her husband. He used to be a classical musician but is now in his second year of teaching geography. He’s British, and very self-depreciating in a funny way. He’s also very nice, and I enjoy talking to him. However, he would starve, get lost, and forget everything if it wasn’t for Linda (and he will tell you this himself, too). They’re a very happy couple and I really enjoy living with them. David is Linda’s 18 year old son. He just started at the university and he is acting in Much Ado About Nothing, which starts at the park this week. And Jodie is Linda’s 13 year old daughter, who goes to Alex. She entertains us by chattering about gossip and going to hip hop dance classes. She is an incredibly busy girl: going to school an hour early for band or water polo, and not leaving until 5 or later.

On Thursday there was a dinner/concert fundraiser at the school. The school’s Afro-Jazz band opened, and David Goldblum and Colin Lyall (brother of my host father) were playing. When we got to the school, Beauty (the teacher who rents the flat attached to the house, she drives me to school in the morning) and I walked into the school’s cafeteria, called the “heart,” to a beautifully transformed room: each table had tablecloths with flower centrepieces and candles that lit the room. We sat in the semi-darkness and enjoyed our picnic dinner while the Afro-jazz band played. The band is made up of 5 male students, in grades 11 and 12, who formed the band last year for their music assessment at the end of the year. It is amazing how well they play at such a young age. At one point they began playing the South African national anthem, a slow, patriotic tune, and then suddenly burst into a rousing, hand-clapping beat that had people dancing in their seats and which Linda described as being very “ethnic.” Next David Goldblum began playing. He was onstage singing with only his guitar, and he has an incredible voice. It was a very mellow kind of rock music. Colin and another gentleman (I’m not sure who it was) joined him with an electric guitar and a hand-drum to keep the beat. He played a song that I really like now, called “Say Africa,” about being in Europe and homesick for Africa.

This weekend I took a trip to Jeffrey’s Bay, one of best surfing beaches in the world. Dan, Andy (another American student teacher from Chicago), and I drove up with Dan and Andy’s host family. They dropped us off on Friday morning and left us there until Sunday. Somehow they found this amazing flat that was a half a block from the beach (with only the neighbor’s backyard separating us from the beach), a gorgeous view, cheap rent, and a great landlady. As soon as we had carried our bags up the stairs to our 5 room flat (2 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, and a living room with a balcony stretching all the way around), the landlady and her husband invited us down for lunch. They were Afrikaans, and had amazing stories to tell about the town. The three of us took the afternoon to walk around this small town and down the beach. We stopped at some of the local craft stores, and the boys made me stop at a skatepark that was on the roof of a building. There, we started talking to a man named Steve, who was friendly enough to recommend some restaurants and safety tips (don’t walk along the beach at night). We mentioned surfing, and he walked us down the road to the surf school and helped us set up an appointment for lessons the next day. This is my favorite part about South Africa: the friendly people. Everyone is so willing to talk to you and lend a hand. Many people will even go out of their own way to help you out. Also, being American, when I go out with friends or meet new people, I always have someone to talk to because they have so many questions for me. It’s almost like being a celebrity.

We ate dinner that night at Kitchen Windows, a very nice restaurant recommended to us by Steve. By the end of dinner, we had discovered that our very friendly waiter, Chaul, was actually our surfing instructor for the next day as well. It’s a small world, isn’t it?

The next morning, we woke up early for our surfing lesson. I realized that the first time I would ever be in the ocean, I would be on a surfboard in the Indian Ocean: something I never imagined myself doing. We surfed for 2 hours, completely tiring ourselves out. (I almost managed to stand up a few times before toppling over in the water) It was definitely a lot of fun, and I’m going to make time to rent a surfboard here in P.E. so I can get a little more practice.

Our wonderful landlady caught us on our way in from the beach and gave us half of a cake before offering to take us on a car ride around the bay. We jumped in and were treated to a an interesting tour: after passing the townships, we came upon huge, sprawling mansions set on the sea. These houses are mostly owned by doctors and professors in Jo’burg, and sit empty most of the year. It’s amazing that there’s such extravagant wealth sitting right next to the townships.

The rest of our stay in J’bay was spent relaxing on the beach and in the fabulous restaurants. It’s a very charming little town and I hope I get a chance to visit again before I leave.

My Contact Info

For those of you who want to send me letters and fun packages:

31 Church Road
Walmer
Port Elizabeth 6070
South Africa

And apparently I can recieve text messages on my cell phone, although I haven't tried it yet. Let me know if you try and it doesn't work. Phone number:

027 76 868 9165

My Schedule at School

My schedule at school

Read previous blog for more details. Remember, each period is only 1/2 hour, so most are 2 periods long.

Monday:
Per 1-2: I sit in on either an Afrikaans (language) class or South Africa history class.
Per 3-4: free period (time to write my weekly reflections!)
Per 5: grade 10.
Break.
Per 6-7: Grade 12.
Per 8: free period.
Per 9: 8 “i” (they’re split into groups named “j” “u” “n” “i” “o” “r”).
break.
Per 10-11: 8 “o”.

Tuesday:
Per 1-2: free period.
Per 3-4: grade 10
Per 5: Assembly (the whole school goes to the auditorium for announcements, etc)
Break
Per 6-7: grade 8 “r”
Per 8-9: grade 8 “o”
Break
Per 10-11: grade 12

Wednesday
Per 1-2: grade 8 “o”
Per 3-4: grade 10
Per 5: grade 12
Break
Per 6-7: grade 8 “i”
Per 8-9: grade 8 “r”
Break
Per 10-11: free period

Thursday:
Per 1-2: grade 12
Per 3-4: free period
Per 5: grade 8 “i”
Break
Per 6-7: grade 8 “o”
Per 8-9: grade 8 “r”
Break
Per 10-11: grade 10

Friday
Per 1: free period
Per 2: Grade 8 “i”
Per 3-4: grade 12
Per 5: assembly
Break
Per 6-7: grade 10
Per 8-9: grade 8 “r”
(no 2nd break on Fridays)
Per 10: free period
Per 11: school is out, but we have staff meetings

First week school impressions

I’m finishing up my first week at school, and the differences are starting to stick out. First, the students wear uniforms, and are VERY polite. Not only do they call you “sir” or “ma’am,” but they call you “sir” or “ma’am” in almost every sentence they say to you. It’s very nice.

One thing I like about student teaching here is that they want you to observe different teachers. I have 3 different cooperating teachers. I have Linda for Grade 12 and Grade 10 (Maths literacy), Ms. Roberts for 2 Grade 8 classes (I go to one class every day, and the other class half of the time), and Mr. Loubster for another Grade 8. It was really hard finding classes that didn’t overlap, which is actually most student teachers end up doing. I wanted to be able to see the classes every single day, so I’m lucky ending up with 4 full classes. All students have to take maths until 10th grade. Then, and this is new this year, they must take either maths or maths literacy in grades 10 through 12. (Before, they could choose to take maths or not, they didn’t have maths literacy yet).

The math curriculum: math is much more abstract here. I’m very glad that I had classes like Abstract Algebra and Foundations of Geometry, because I know I didn’t have some of this in high school. I’m also helping out with the Maths Olympiad team, which has a lot of number theory questions.

Also, the curriculum is countrywide, and school-wide. It’s kind of hard to explain and it took me this whole week to figure out. First, every maths teacher teaches every grade. So instead of teaching only grade 9 and 10, but having 3 sections of each, they teach grade 8-12, meaning most teachers have 4-5 preps each day. They also have classes at different times every day, which takes some time to get used to. I carry my schedule with me everywhere and I wish I had it tattooed on the back of my hand (hmm, Sam’s method of writing notes to himself is starting to sound appealing). Also, most grades have maths at the same time. So every teacher has grade 11 at the same time. (This means I got stuck with a grade 12 class even though I really only want to teach grade 8,9, and 10).

Each day, there is the morning meeting, registration period (homeroom, which I don’t have unless a teacher is absent), 5 periods, a break, periods 6-9, a break, and periods 10-11. Each period is ½ hour, so most classes last 2 periods. I’ll post my schedule next so you can see what I mean.

Exactly what you have to teach to each grade is set by the country. They also come up with the grading system. You have to give a school-wide test over each concept, 2 nation-wide cumulative tests (on the same day, at the same time), you have to give one “assignment,” one “project,” and one “investigation.” You also have to give class tests over each concept. Then, the school decides what the “assignment,” “project,” and “investigation” will be. The math teachers will all meet and decide when the Grade 8’s will have their test over Algebra (It’s going to be on Tuesday, which upsets one of my teachers because she feels her class isn’t ready, and yet they still must take the test on Tuesday). The head of the department will write the test, and everyone must administer the same test at the same time. Right now, it feels very strict and very frustrating. We’ll see how I feel about it after I’ve been teaching. Oh, the tests are HARD, too. There’s no multiple choice, etc. The one that I have seen had about 10 questions written in sentence form (the dreaded story problems!).

Also, not one of my teachers grades homework. They expect the students to have done it. They don’t give points for having it done or anything. They can give an academic default (4 defaults and you have weeklong lunch detention, plus academic defaults have to be signed by parents) for homework not being completed. Everyday, the teachers have the students take out a red pen as the teacher (with help from students) goes over every homework problem from the night before. The students have to check their own, and write the correct work if they miss it. I REALLY like this part of the schools. They do the same thing with tests- the teachers grade the tests, hand them back, and then go over every problem with the students.

Once homework is graded, the teachers go over notes on the overhead or board. Students don’t copy the notes, they just listen, until the teacher tells them to copy the notes into their notebook. Then they are given classwork, while the teacher walks around and helps, and finally, homework. They have to do everything in a composition book.

I’ve already been thrown in front of the class, which was nice but scary. One of the other math teachers had to leave school, and she had a ½ hour grade 9 class. She wrote all the notes on transparencies for me to put on the overhead and explain to the class. The class was HORRIBLE (noisy and distracting), and that day (this was Tuesday), I didn’t have the default slips with me, so I didn’t really have anything to threaten them with. I spent a lot of time standing at the front saying that I would wait for them to quiet down (which I think is really very fun and powerful in its own way), but I would have liked to throw out a couple defaults at the beginning and shut up the noisy ones. At least we got through everything on the transparencies.

I really like the Grade 12 class that I have. They’re called matrics, because they take the matriculation exam this year (something they have to do to get into college). They’re all very mature and very good in class. They know to take school seriously.

A few things I don’t like: first, when a teacher is absent, those students go to “substitution,” which means they just split up and sit in the back of another teacher’s class for that period. They have no substitute teachers. Second, teachers must clean their own classrooms.

In addition to school life, I’ve noticed some other differences in my daily life, that may be hard to get used to.
1. Money. I never realized that I took for granted being able to glance at the change in my hand and know how much each coin was worth. Also, I have to mentally divide every price I hear by 6, to know the English equivalent. Even worse was listening to a conversation comparing the South African Rand to the British pound. My brain wouldn’t work unless I converted the Rand to US dollars and then to pounds.
2. Celcius and the metric system. I just don’t get it. I never will.
3. Driving on the left hand side of the road. Okay, I’m sort of getting used to it. But along with that comes getting into the car on the left hand side (passenger side), and, worst of all, walking down the sidewalk and past people in the halls on the left side (something I never even considered). Also, the median on the roads is painted white as well as the lane dividers, which is confusing, and the yellow stripe is on the OUTSIDE edge of the road.
4. The stoplights turn yellow before both red and green. Kinda nice, actually.
5. People text message like crazy here. I have a cell phone, and as soon as I figure out how to call my phone from the US, I’ll post the number. I’m pretty sure you guys can text message me. But yeah, SMS has taken the place of calling people.
6. Not many places have fountain pop. Even weirder, you don’t get free refills.
7. Everything is so small! Shampoo bottles, bags of chips, everything! I’m so used to buying in bulk to save money, but you definitely can’t do that here.
8. Hearing things like “Is Ohio near Texas?” ALL the time from my students (I started carrying around a map of the US), and things about my accent (my favorite was “you sound like you’re from the television!”)
9. The absolute WORST culture-shock that I’m going through right now: not being able to drive myself anywhere.

The teachers are happy to have me explore the country, so they’re okay with me taking a day or two off when I can take a trip. This weekend, Dan (the other COST student from OU) and I are going to Jeffrey’s Bay (BIG surfing area, maybe I’ll take a few lessons!) with another exchange student who is staying with Dan. Their host family is driving us and dropping us off. We leave tomorrow (no school for us on Friday!) and come back Sunday. Keep your fingers crossed for me to do well on a surfboard!

One week down....

I’ve hardly had access to Internet throughout my first week here, but I have had time to type up my impressions every few days. I think it’ll be easiest if I just post them all in one post.


Tuesday, Feb 7

So during my 2-day flight to South Africa, I had a 10-hour layover in London- what a great chance to explore the city! I found the underground and took it into the city. At Piccadilly Circus, I got off and after a little searching, found the open-top double deck bus tour (with live English commentary!) Not wanting to pack too much, I was only wearing a jacket, which wasn’t so bad until I climbed to the top of the bus and it started moving: luckily, it was not raining, but the icy winds forced me to put up my hood and wish I had a scarf and gloves. The commentator on the bus was very friendly, and made sure to ask everyone where they came from so that she wouldn’t leave out anything of interest. Apparently, American accents are easy to guess because she knew where I was from after I had only said “hello.”

I found myself trying to blend in and pretend I was English, especially when walking on the streets and in the restaurant. I’m not sure why, and it’s sort of a paradox really because I wanted blend in and feel like I was part of the country (which I felt that I could easily do, as long as I wasn’t talking). But I also found myself intensely proud of my nationality, and if anyone asked where I was from, I was very proud to say America. I feel the same way here, in South Africa.

Every building in England is so charming; my favorite part was on the bus ride out of Heathrow airport (the underground line was being worked on so they had bus shuttles set up) and all the little houses with their steep roofs and chimneys. And the street signs: instead of yield, they said “give way” (and the exit signs in the underground station said “way out”).

The bus tour was lovely, most of the history and the building names went right through my head, but the sights and buildings, mostly the architecture, fascinated me. We went by all the main sites (Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abbey, the London Eye, Tower Bridge and London Bridge, and a million others I can’t remember right now). About 1 ½ hours into the tour, at Trafalgar Square, the cold was enough for me and I decided to navigate the streets on my own and find somewhere to warm up with some food. I stopped in a few shops, just to see what they were like (pretty basic, but in a convenience store I noticed that there were no doors on the refrigerated shelves with pop and drinks: I don’t know if this is common, but it was interesting). After wandering the streets and the shops, I found a small, inviting restaurant across the road (but I can’t remember for the life of me what it was called). Wanting to get the full English experience (and scared of the other things on the menu which I have never tried), I ordered fish and chips and hot tea. Nothing against the Red Brick’s food, but the fish here was incredible.

After lunch, it was around 4:00 PM and I was starting to feel tired (oh and remember I still have this stupid head cold) so I decided to finish the last leg of the bus tour and head back to the airport.

On the way back, jet lag hit (the jet lag pills didn’t work so well, Lindsay!) and it was a struggle to stay awake through the train and bus ride. I finally stumbled onto the plane and didn’t even stay awake for the safety instructions. It was a nice flight to Jo’burg, South Africa, as nice as 11 hours can be, but since our plane had been delayed I missed my next flight, to P.E. The next one was at 4 PM, so I had about 4-5 hours to enjoy the Jo’berg airport, which I did by figuring out the phones (it took a while!), getting some money, fighting a nosebleed in the bathroom (that was an adventure), and having some lunch.

Finally, I made it to Port Elizabeth (or P.E.), and my host family was there to meet me. Linda, my host mom, drove me past the township (where black Africans were forced to live under Apartheid), which was basically a bunch of leaky, falling-down shacks made out of flimsy sheets of wood. They seem to be randomly thrown together with different types of scrap wood, so the sides of the houses are different colors. The “roofs” (tin sheets) are held down by tires or large rocks. They were tiny, as well: from the outside, they look like the size of my bedroom, or maybe twice as big as mom’s chicken coop. Standing alone, one would look like one of the abandoned buildings on a farm, but there were hundreds, with maybe 5 or 10 feet between each one. In another area, the government has started to rebuild the houses so that everyone has a nice stone house, but these houses are still appallingly small and close together. I will have to get pictures soon, because you can read all you want about them, but until you actually see the townships, you have no idea how bad it is. The most astonishing thing was that right across the road were very nice, large houses, with driveways and gates.

We live only 5 minutes away, and although there is not violent crime, theft happens very frequently. You cannot leave anything unlocked for even a minute. They lock the stickshift in place in the car, as well as locking the car. The gate to get into the yard (which is all fenced in) has a remote control, as does the garage door. There is a burglar alarm system in the house, bars on all the windows (but they are attractive looking bars, which match the frames in the windows), and the doors are kept locked at all times, even if you are only in another part of the house. For me, the precautions seem silly because I haven’t seen any of this occur, and I do feel safe in the house. But I have heard stories of things being stolen right out from under their nose.

All the nice houses in the area are made out of stone. They all have fences or walls surrounding them, and gates at the driveway. The house we live in is nice, with beautiful hardwood floors and wide doorways (apparently the wood for the floors has to be imported, because they don’t have enough trees for wood here in S.A.). Almost as soon as I arrived, Rob (host father) had to take David (host brother, 18) to play practice- they are putting on Shakespeare in an open-air theater in the park. I went with them, to get a sense of the area and see the park. Everything is gorgeous, it’s green and there are exotic plants and trees everywhere.

The parrot, Murphy, is the most babied pet here. He has a personality and I might be growing more fond of him (I really don’t like birds). There are also 2 dogs, another (very loud) bird, a cat I have seen once in the window (he’s terrified of Rocky, the new dog), and snakes and geckos I have not met yet.

I arrived Monday, and spent all day Tuesday sleeping. I woke up for dinner and spent the evening on the back porch enjoying the view and chatting with Rob. Sitting outside feels just like home- there’s a pool in the background, and bright green trees and plants everywhere, absolutely gorgeous with a beautiful view. It’s very private even though we are in town. The air was still warm, although it was starting to cool, and I could hear crickets and other insects chirping. It felt just like sitting on the porch at mom and dad’s house.

Tomorrow I am going to school with Beauty, the girl who rents the flat from my family (it’s attached to the house). On Thursday, Rob’s school is taking a trip to a campsite near Addo Elephant park, and he has invited me to go along. They are using me as another pair of eyes and ears to keep the students in line, but I’m okay with that. It should be nice and relaxing. I come back on Saturday.


Wednesday, February 8: My first day at school.

The first thing that struck me about the school was that it was very casual. There are about 6 other student teachers there: most of them grew up here and went to high school at Alex (short for Alexander Road High School). And then there is the one student from OU. They were all very friendly, and so were all the other teachers. We gather in the lounge for a morning meeting, and they have coffee and tea for us. We then go off to our classes. The bell rings every half hour, so there are 11 periods in addition to 2 breaks, but most classes last for 2 of the periods (about an hour long). As soon as I sat down with the other student teachers today before the meeting, one of them, James, asked if I could cover a class for him. I was a little nervous, but I said yes, and he had the first 2 periods free so he took me on a tour of the school. It looks small from the outside, but it is large. There are 3 hallways with grassy spaces in between. There are windows and doors everywhere to see and hear the outdoors. There are about 1,200 students at Alex (grades 8-12). Period 3 began in James’ classroom, and he introduced me, passed out the test, and went off to his meeting. I wandered around the room and watched as the students worked on the test. It was easy: I’ve given tests before, and the students were well behaved.

I observed 2 of Linda’s classes during the rest of the day. The class is very unlike those in the US but so far I can’t really put it into words. Again, it was very laid back, and she does not grade homework. She asks about questions over the homework, goes over some examples from the book problems, has the students work on the rest, and then checks on them during the period.

There seems to be much less administrative work during the class period. No taking attendance, collecting papers, grading, and no discipline problems that I saw.

The best thing about the school is the community of teachers. We have the staff room, where the morning meeting takes place, and where everyone hangs out during free periods and during the 2 breaks. It’s so nice to have a place to just sit and relax with the coffee or tea made for us, and talk. At Alexander (back in Athens), the teachers were so isolated and stuck to their classrooms.

I had a pie and chips (fries) for dinner. The pie is kind of like a pot pie (but a million times better!), but looks more like a calzone. It’s basically some type of meat (I got steak) baked in a pastry like crust, and smothered in gravy. Really delicious.


Saturday, February 11

On Thursday I left for a trip with Rob’s school. He teaches at St. Georges College, a private school for students in grades 8-12. There are only 7 full time teachers at the school (part time teachers only teach, with none of the administrative duties), and about 100 students.

We took a bus to a campsite on a citrus farm near Addo elephant park. The site was beautiful, nestled in trees, right on a river, and reminded me a lot of camping in Ohio. We spent a lot of time relaxing: reading in the shade, swimming or boating on the river, or laying in the hot African sun. There were several structured activities (team building things) for the students, but the staff didn’t usually need out help. I spent a lot of time getting to know the teachers, and, during breaks, the students.

I shared a cabin with the 2 other female teachers. It was a very rustic cabin, with open doors and windows, so we shared our room with plenty of insects (particularly those pesky mosquitoes, who had a feast on my legs). The insects didn’t bother me so much as the small creature who slept with us. Debbie, one of the teachers, saw a small rat or squirrel-like animal running along the rafter in our cabin one night. I came back and sat on my mattress, talking, when suddenly we heard a loud series of squeaks (and I mean LOUD) that sounded like it was coming from right next to me. I leapt across the room, and we searched the cabin with our flashlights, but couldn’t find him. Finally, I gingerly climbed under the covers, hoping he was gone, but throughout the night I could occasionally hear him scuttling around.

The students in the camp were absolutely wonderful. They were incredibly polite, and were very nice to me. They call all the teachers “ma’am” or “sir” (I really enjoyed being “ma’am” for the weekend), and they are more than happy to sit and talk with us. The school is also very racially diverse, with a large black population, some Indian students, and others of mixed background who are called colored. I noticed that the students would often make jokes about race, or about Apartheid. They seemed perfectly content with the racial comments, but I’m unaccustomed to it and it made me slightly uncomfortable. These were statements that would not normally be heard in America, referring to one team as the “black team,” or jokingly accusing others of racism.

One ethnic group that I was happy to encounter for the first time was Afrikaans. To be honest, all the accents are new to me and I can’t tell the difference between the English accent and the Afrikaans accent. However, one of the teachers, Johann, was Afrikaans, and was very proud of it (when he couldn’t manage to stay on the paddle-ski without falling in the water, he blamed on being Afrikaans). I’m sure some of the students are Afrikaans as well, but, like I said, I can’t really tell the difference and I’m hesitant to ask. In case I haven’t written about it, Afrikaaners are descendants of the very early Dutch settlers, and so the language Afrikaans is very similar to Dutch.

I am so thankful for Harry Potter: without the books, I would have had no idea what prefects and head boy and girl are. The prefects really helped out the teachers in relaying messages to the other students and keeping them quiet at night.

Oh, one more thing worth mentioning: on my first night there, we had a braai, which is the South African version of a cook-out. Everyone brings their own meat, or braai-paks. Rob and I had porkchops and sausage made from a deer-like animal, kudu. You build a fire in a huge round area, with coals underneath the burning wood. As soon as the wood burns down, the coals are hot, and you use a shovel to move them to the edges of the circle. Each person has a triangle stand which you then rest a small grill (with a handle for holding) on. I will try to get pictures, because I can’t really find the right words. Anyway, it’s tradition to eat with your fingers, and to have potato salad and a green salad along with it (I did use a fork for the salads). They also make this delicious bread over the coals, called rooster koek. It’s actually more like individual rolls, but it tastes like the most delicious homemade white bread I’ve ever had. At the camp we also ate potjiekos, kind of like a stew or roast: lots of veggies and meat cooked in a big pot, and served over rice.

And now, some of the amusing comments/questions I have heard in the last week:
American houses are so flimsy looking. (The houses here are made out of stone)
I thought all Americans chew gum all the time.
In such a rich country, how is there any poverty? (speaking about America)
Do you know any celebrities?

Actually, the last question makes some sense, because the majority of the movies and TV shows here are American. It’s so weird to me that they see Americans all the time on the television screen, and yet Americans know so little about South Africa.