The First Week of School

I'll need to learn all their names. The school has about 200 kids. This was morning assembly.

 

There is so much to write about school.  So many things that are different than in the States.  Rather than try to capture everything now, here are some highlights. I’ll be adding more stuff as time goes on.

Day one sucked.  My day got off to a rocky start when I received an early morning text with some bad news from home.  Just financial stuff and being handled, but not a good start to the day.  Then we got to school and no one else was there, again.  But that quickly changed and kids and teachers started arriving.  The former pule (principal), who’s been promoted to School Resource Officer for the district, greeted me warmly, with a hug and kiss on one cheek, which is how women friends greet each other in Samoa.  One teacher said hello and the new pule said “Malo.” and shook my hand.  That was the last time he spoke to me on Monday.

The school day started with assembly in the open fale (fale aoga – school fale).  After much direction and confusion, kids sat closely together in rows.  Each class together, with boys in a row and girls in another, much like lining up at school at home.  Except they were sitting on concrete.  And sand, which was used to fill in some holes in the concrete.

A striking similarity was that the year one students are just like kindergartners at home- clueless.  They’ve never had to line up before and just drifted around, like baby ducks without a mom.  Finally, they were herded into rows and all tears dried.

There were prayers, hymns and a short lecture on respecting God, parents, teachers and pastors.  At least I think that’s what it was about.  Everything is done in rapid fire Samoan and my Samoan is still limited.

The lead teacher, who’s the woman I live with, then told the school about me.  Again, it was all in Samoan so I could be wrong about what she was saying but I heard my name and Peace Corps, plus she pointed toward me a lot.  And the children all turned to stare at me.  I just smiled and tried to look friendly, but still like a tough disciplinarian.

The kids were then turned loose to start cleaning up.  The whole week was dedicated to getting the school and teachers ready to start teaching, which will happen next week.

When I taught in the public schools, I took for granted the school janitor and crew that maintained the grounds and the building.  Here, the kids are the janitor and grounds crew.

Monday was dedicated to grounds cleanup.  First was collecting the rubbish, which means leaves.  Candy wrappers, tin cans, etc. may or may not get picked up during rubbish collection.  Every leaf will, however.  Part of that is for appearance sake.  It’s also because breadfruit leaves are big and when they are left in the rain they start to rot and smell.

While the 120 or so kids started collecting rubbish, the teachers retired to the office.    I was invited to sit at what I realized later was the “adults” table, with the SRO, pule and lead teacher. The other teachers sat at a separate table.  The meeting started with the lead teacher explaining that there were problems with finding me a place to live and that the PC might move me to another village.  There was much discussion in Samoan, with frequent tongue clucking and “kalofai!”, while everyone looked at me.  Kalofai, by the way, is slang for “what a pity” or “poor thing”.  Awkward.

For the remainder of the morning, the teachers and pule chatted with each other.  Sometimes in full group, sometimes individual conversations.  A couple of times, it was clear that the SRO or pule were addressing the group, but that didn’t diminish the multiple conversations or the use of cell phones.  At one point during a full group discussion, a teacher asked me a question in Samoan.  I thought I understood what she was saying but knew I was wrong, because they wouldn’t be discussing my love life at a staff meeting.  I said I didn’t understand and she rolled her eyes.  She translated in English.  Yes, they were discussing my love life.  Now the search is on for not only a place for me to live but also a man to share it with.

During most of the meeting, I had no idea what was being said. I listened carefully and picked up words here and there but finally gave up and started making notes on things I wanted to discuss with the pule.    At a signal that I didn’t discern, everyone stood up and left the room.  Not a word to me.  I trailed after the group and we went down for tea time.  While the teachers were chatting and enjoying a hefty snack, the kids were released from rubbish pick up and were enjoying recess.

After recess, the kids started weeding the grounds and the teachers hung out.  Some hung out in the lounge together, others monitored the weeding, and some did some work in their classrooms.  I wandered around, generally ignored by both students and staff.

After a much abbreviated first day, we headed out.  I went to Saleloga with my family and we hit the bank, market and post office, where I was told there was no mail.

Later in the day, I was taken to see the house that the school committee had chosen for me.  I wrote about it in a previous entry so won’t bore you.  My reaction to it was dismay.  It also compounded the feelings I’d had during the day when being ignored at school.  Nobody loves me, everybody hates me and I’m going home to eat worms.

Tuesday began much as Monday had, although more children showed up for school.  I also was much more assertive about talking with everyone.  Was it a BBC show in which one guy called another character “She who will not be ignored”?  That was me.  I wouldn’t say it was a love fest, but people, especially the teachers, were friendlier.

While waiting for assembly I watched the lead teacher enroll new children.  She sat on a bench at her desk while the parents and children sat on the floor next to the desk.  I was sitting on a wooden bench used by first graders, so it’s very low to the ground.  That’s when I realized there are no chairs at school.  Just wooden benches suitably close to the ground for children.

During registration, one girl tugged at my heart.  While waiting to register, she and her grandmother sat on the bench next to me.  Her grandmother encouraged her to speak to me in English and she was reluctant.  I was surprised when she started talking to me in fluent English.  Seems she was born and raised in New Zealand and just came to Samoa.  She speaks very little Samoan.  I feel her pain.  As her grandmother left, she was in tears, but soon sucked it up and joined some of the other kids.  I’ve made a point of checking in with her every day and she seems to be making friends and getting along.

Assembly was held in the year one classroom because it was raining and the roof in the fale aoga leaks. Again, the assembly was prayers, hymns and a brief lecture about respect.  The teacher leading the session also asked me several questions in Samoan, expecting me to answer in Samoan.  I wanted to poke him with a stick, since he knew he was putting me on the spot in front of the whole school.  I know that, culturally, he’s doing what’s appropriate to encourage me to speak more Samoan, but if he and I are in a room together with a sharp stick, he’d better watch out.

The day continued with more meetings for the teachers while the children cleaned the rooms. 

After school on Tuesday, I went with the family again and they stopped next door to the Post Office. Score – letters and packages for me!  Several Christmas cards and a Valentine’s card that was sent in November. 

Overall the day was much better than Monday and the week was improving.

Wednesday there were even more children.  Final enrollment should be around 225, with eight grades.  The SRO was holding a meeting for all the principals in the district in the school office.  Apparently to keep them from being disturbed, there was no assembly and all the girls were gathered in one classroom and the boys in another.  I was sitting in the classroom with the girls, waiting for something to happen. 

After about fifteen minutes, I asked the only other teacher present, what was going on.  She explained that the kids would just sit and wait until the meeting of the principals was over.  I asked if I could sing or play games with the girls.  She waved her hand, so I hopped up.

The kids looked expectant.  First, I’m the new teacher and a palagi to boot.  Second, they were bored with just sitting quietly on the floor.   I sang, danced and played games with about 100 girls, ages 5-13.  Just me and the kids.  I was totally unprepared.  I had nothing planned and am just supposed to be observing for the first month.  It’s been a long time since I was a kid and as a management consultant for the last umpteen years, I’ve played a lot of corporate games, but none suitable for a five year old Samoan girl.

Thankfully, kids will happily repeat things forever.  We did the hokey pokey.  To make it last longer, I started “putting in” more body parts.  Head, stomach, tongue, bum.  The kids loved it.  We also played Simon Says 942 times.  I taught them the BINGO song, which they really liked.   We also got into teams so little kids were mixed with older kids and played I Spy.  

At one point, a teacher came and got me for tea.  I was given a snack of three fish sandwiches and a hot dog.  And a large bowl of ramen.  I enjoyed half a sandwich and some Koko Samoa.

Then back I went to the girls who were waiting impatiently for more Simon Says.  After another hour and a half of sweating while getting a work out with Simon and the Hokey Pokey, as well as teaching them to limbo, it was time for the kids to go home.  When I walked into the lounge to get my things, I was greeted enthusiastically by the other teachers. Seems they really appreciated me taking on the kids so they could work on getting everything ready for lessons.  I was ready for a nap.

That wasn’t going to happen, though, because it was time for gardening.  I’d planned to have a garden at my house, so wonderful friends sent me seeds.  Rather than just have them sit, I gave them to my family to plant at their plantation.  They asked me to go along to show them how to plant them.

We spent the next couple of hours in the afternoon sun planting corn, radishes, spaghetti squash, two kinds of carrots, beets and watermelon.  I tried to explain what a radish is.  We planted a small plot to see how they’ll do in this climate.  If things go well, they’ll clear more land and we’ll plant the rest of the seeds and try some new stuff.  They were very excited.  I was even sweatier and more tired

But happy.  This was what I expected with PC.  Time with children and sharing ideas/new things with the locals.  Laughing together.  Even better, the teacher said she had found a house for me and we’d go see it in the evening.

I took the best cold shower ever and was guardedly optimistic about seeing the next house.  The house is great.  I described it in a previous entry, so won’t waste your time, but left there feeling really good about life in Samoa.

Before bed, I went through my stuff to find more games and songs.  I figured I’d better be ready if I was put on the spot again.

Thursday, though, I didn’t have to worry.  Each teacher took their own class to their classroom and cleaned and organized some more.  They began handing out notebooks for the year.  There are no text books.

I was called in by the SRO who wanted to tell me she’d heard about what I’d done the day before.  Her granddaughters attend the school, and several parents had also talked to her.  Seems they’d arrived early to pick up their kids and watched me through the open windows.

I was nervous when she said “I heard you were even sticking out your tongue.” that I’d done something culturally insensitive.  Nope, they were just shocked to see me dancing and acting the fool.  The parents thought it was funny to watch and their kids were anxious to come back to school for more.  She said she thought more kids would come to school because they heard it was so much fun.  Plus the new pule was happy with me for keeping the kids engaged.

Friday morning, I noticed all the older boys carrying machetes.  Imagine the reactions if 30 boys carried razor sharp machetes into their classroom in the States.  Thursday lulled me into a false sense of security.  On Friday morning, I was sitting in a classroom, waiting to see what would happen for the day when a teacher led in all the kids from grades 1 – 5.  About 140 kids.  She said that I should teach them songs and games for the day while the teachers worked and the older kids did the heavy cleaning and yard work.

So, I started with more Simon Says.  And, I was prepared with a couple of new songs.  So, we sang, played and did the Hokey Pokey.  As time went on, the crowd grew.  As the older kids finished their chores, they wandered into the door ways to watch.  Some joined in.  The room was filled to capacity so I told everyone to head to the fale aoga.

By the way, year 8 girls speak English fairly well and are used to being teacher’s helpers.  I’d tell them what I wanted and they’d make it happen.  I tried playing London Bridge with the group, but the fale was too small and there was too much confusion with such a long line.  So, I taught them follow the leader.  I led the entire school out onto the field.  I marched, I waved my arms, I hopped, I skipped.  I got over 200 kids in a circle.  I stood like Superman and they stood like Superman.  I yelled “I’m Superman”.  They yelled it.  I yelled “I speak English.” They yelled it.  I yelled “I love school!”  They yelled it.  I was tempted to yell “Nancy’s beautiful!” but resisted the urge.

During all this, the teachers and several parents watched from the shade of the fale.  They laughed and cheered us on.  Then they rang the bell for break.

I collapsed in the lounge with water and one of the teachers fanning me.  We were all laughing and talking.  Ok, there’s still the language barrier, but I really felt like one of the gang.   After sitting for a few minutes and eating as much of a Samoan banana as I could, I headed back outside.  Some kids were sitting, others playing or walking around.  I asked a group of little kids if they wanted to play a game.  Yes, fa’amolemole.

It started with about ten kids.  I was teaching them to play Duck, Duck, Goose. Other kids joined in.  With 5 minutes about 150 kids were in circles, playing.  I noticed there were quite a few parents watching and cheering and realized it was past time for school to be over for the years 1-3.  But they didn’t want to leave, so we kept playing. Then we did relay races.  The big hit was when I showed them how to do wheelbarrow races (one person holds another one’s ankles while he walks on his hands).  That was a hoot to watch.  All these kids, some wearing backpacks, walking on their hands across the field.  Collapsing, laughing, just being happy kids.

Monday was rough, but the week got better and better.  I’m exhausted but so happy to be here.  Thursday one of the teachers asked me to go for a walk with her in the evening.  I did and she invited me back to her house to have prayer time and dinner with the family.  It was lovely.  The best part of the walk, though, was seeing one group of girls doing the limbo. And hearing another group singing BINGO. 

 Some kids walk to school.  Some, like this group, take the bus. That's not a school bus, by the way, it's the same bus I take to town.  Less than 10 kids are driven to school.

Each child had to bring 2 or 3 (depending on age) 

 The small snack I was given one day.

Boys cutting the thick brush with machetes.  Never run with a sharp pencil, or a machete.