Setting the Tone

In my experience, usually theses two experiences do not come hand in hand, but earlier this week, I was fortunate enough to be able to experience both with my new students.

Tuesday was the second official day of school.  One of the more challenging aspects of teaching in a different country is trying to determine which aspects of schooling are similar and which are different. For example, in America, well in East Coast charter school America, it is never acceptable for a child to get out of his or her seat without permission from the teacher.  Chalk it up to combination of safety and legality.  Here, however, the way that a child asks a personal question is to get up from his or her seat, walk directly to the teacher, no matter what else is happening in class at that given moment, and ask the question privately, and very respectfully: "please, madam...".  Unless a person has taught both here in Tanzania and in America, it is impossible to identify and explain the many differences like this that exist.  So, new teachers like myself must tread carefully in the beginning and learn via trial and error.

You should have seen my face the first time that a child got up in the middle of class while I was explaining the skill of the day.  As any great teacher knows, the way you respond in front of children to a behavior the FIRST time it happens is critical to establishing the culture of your classroom.  As the American-teacher-learning-the-Tanzanian-way, my ability to respond is somewhat limited because I never want to overreact, or under-react for that matter, as a result of my Americanness.

If I had been in America and a child got up out of his or her seat while I was speaking, I would have, for lack of a better phrase, flipped out to stress to the child, and the entire class, that such a behavior is entirely unacceptable and will not be tolerated.  In my current adjustment period, a watered down version of survival of the fittest is necessary: I have to withhold my initial reaction to a situation to gage the room, which requires a great skill of reading faces and body language, and still react in a timely and appropriate fashion to whatever transpired.  This is no easy feat, let me tell you, but most important things are not and this particular skill is essential to creating a strong classroom culture.   

Thankfully the first time a child got up out of her seat, I did not flip out.  Moreover, each day, I am continuing to learn as many education-specific cultural differences as I can - as quickly as I can.  Some situations are universal though.  On Tuesday, in P4's math class, there were a handful of children who had not completed all of their work at 10:00, when class ended and the twenty minute recess morning break began.  Naturally then, the children who had not finished their work needed to do so before they could join their peers in recess time.

One of the greatest differences I have noticed thus far between my American teaching experiences and my first few days here in Tanzania is that here, it has been engrained into the minds (and hearts) of children that work must be finished before play.  In their little minds, I am certain Tanzanian children are not jumping for joy at the idea of missing recess to finish up their work. From an outsider's perspective, it appears as though it does not even cross a child's mind to feel entitled to participate in all of recess like every other child. And as much as I love the children that I have worked with in America, especially the cohort of scholars I left back in Brooklyn in December to come teach here, more often than not, there would be a great deal of push back in the same situation from an average American child.  I did not even have to announce to that the children who had not finished that they needed to keep working; they simply did.  Without complaint.

About five minutes into the recess time, one young boy who was still working, Francis, asked to use the bathroom.  Mind you, the way that he asked was by getting up out of his seat without permission and approaching me.  Good thing I had already taken note of this difference.  Considering the fact that my American-trained brain was feeling slightly bad for taking some of his 'you're a kid and you need to release all that energy bottled up in your growing body' time, I easily agreed.  I added, however, to make it quick before he left the room. Two minutes later, I look out and seeing him running around, playing with one of his friends.

And there it was.  My first real test as a teacher in Tanzania.  How should I respond? I had no idea what the standard response to such a situation was.  If only this was the movies and I could freeze the frame, poll a few teachers and then press play.  A million thoughts ran through my mind in the 0.2 seconds I had to respond.  I firmly, sternly and loudly called his name so that all of his peers could hear, announcing that he was caught red handed.  His eyes grew rather large as he slowly made his way back to where I was standing in the door of the classroom.  After about seven seconds of silence, that's a long time in such a situation -- test it out if you aren't convinced, I finally broke the silence. Me: Did you ask me to go to the bathroom or to go and play?
Francis: To go to the bathroom, madam.
Me: Did you go to the bathroom?
Francis: No, madam.
Me: I see.
More silence.  After a few more seconds, I instructed him to go sit back down and finish his work.

Teaching is like a chess game.  When I told Francis to sit back down, he looked relieved, as if that was the end of that.  Fat chance.  When he energetically jumped up a few minutes later, announcing he was finished with his work, I told him to sit back down.  His facial expression showed me he realized he was not yet in the clear for the little stunt he pulled.  He slowly sat back down, not making a sound as he waited for the end of recess bell to ring.  When it did, I sauntered over to him and said: Come to the office at the beginning of afternoon recess, the last forty minutes of the day.  Do you understand?
Francis: Yes, madam.

For the record, I am not in the habit of terrorizing children, but I am in the habit of leaving a strong impression that will remain with a child, when necessary.  Each time I saw Francis for the rest of the day, he either looked ashamed or worried.  I learned this "make 'em sweat" approach from the master herself, the great Shahara C. Jackson, and have found it to be highly effective time and time again.

I already have been in Tanzania long enough to know that when the afternoon recess bell rang, I would not have to go looking for Francis; he would come to me without any reminding.  Another difference between Tanzanian and American children.  And he did.  I told him how disappointed I was that he lied to me earlier and that because he did that, he would not be able to play in today's afternoon recess. The final nail in Francis's 'lesson learned' coffin would not go over very well in America.   But because it is Africa, and because I am the product of sixteen years of Catholic school education, I made sure Francis got the message about lying to me:

Corporal Punishment?

A little old school, a less accepted disciplinary method these days, I do admit. But when Francis was finished writing and came over to me with the sincerest of faces, near tears, and said in a very hushed voice, "I am sorry, madam," I knew the message had been received at least temporarily.  As I sent Francis off to partake in the last few minutes of afternoon recess, I felt a sense of satisfaction in tackling my first 'Tanzanian teacher test' and wondered if news traveled as fast in Tanzanian schools as it does in American schools.  It does. Before the end of the day, only ten minutes later, several children had come up to me inquiring about Francis's behavior and the resulting consequence.  The tone appears to have been set, and it is my hope that Francis will be the first and last scholar that will need to write "I will not lie to my teacher".  Time will tell.