"Typical" Week at School

Last Monday began the second week of the third term.  This is the last term of the school year and the shortest, only 12 weeks.  There is a lot to be crammed into the term, including the National Year 8 exam, exams for Years 4 and 6, Teachers’ Day and English Day.  Here’s how my “typical” week has gone so far:

Monday the school bell rang at 7:45.  I’d been told school was starting at 8:30, so was a bit surprised.  7:45 is when we used to start.  We began with assembly in the Year 2 room.  It was hot and crowded with well over 200 kids and several teachers.  One teacher led the hymns, bible reading and gave a brief religious lesson.  About 20 minutes in, the principal arrived.  There was no room at the back for him, so the children were told to stand and move closer together toward the front.  They were literally pressed tightly together, leaving about 5 feet of empty space at the rear of the room.  This explains a lot about why adults on the bus are so comfortable in pressing up against each other and me.

I started teaching at 8:30 with Year 7.  That lasted until 9:30.  I had a break to work on typing a Social Science exam that will be given next week for all Year 8 students, then at 10:30 began teaching Year 1.  That lesson was to go until interval at 11:10.

At 10: 45, the bell rang and all the other kids headed toward the playground.  The tykes in Year 1 and I were just getting rolling.  They would have been happy to stay and miss recess, but their mothers were here and they needed a snack, so I let them go.

After interval I spent an hour with Year 8, and then started an hour long lesson with Year 6.  We used to end school at 1:30, but since we’re starting later, now are supposed to end at 2:00.  I was surprised, then, when the bell rang at 1:35.  I checked with the principal and yes, we were done for the day.  The new schedule would start Tuesday.  Why Tuesday instead of Monday?  I have no idea.

Tuesday started with the bell at 8:10.  The kids headed toward their classrooms where they lead themselves in hymns and prayer.  At 8:30 I collected the Year 7 children and we spent an hour together.  Because there’s a teacher’s meeting for Years 1, 2 and 3, the children for those years have a few days off.  Instead of having Year 2, I had free time.  Rather than using it to plan or work on typing the Social Science test, in true Samoan fashion, I used the time for cooking.

I headed home, stopping at my family’s store to pick up 7 pounds of chicken, a large bottle of soy sauce, a couple of onions and a package of pasta.  I was cooking for six.  I whipped up chicken legs/thighs cooked Samoan style, with soy sauce, a bit of sugar and onions.  I made the pasta with some beef bouillon and adobo seasoning.  A bit of Cuba in Samoa.  The teachers sent boys to help me carry the pots of food back to the school.  The teachers declared the food a success.  There was not a scrap left.

After interval I was ready for a nap, but instead spent the time teaching Years 8 and 6.  The last bell rang at 1:50.  Almost the new ending time of 2:00.   Year 6 is big and has some boys who are “energetic”.  Another way to say that is I spend as much time telling them to sit/be quiet as I do teaching.  Their regular teacher keeps them in line with corporal punishment.  I haven’t hit a child in Samoa yet and am determined to solve the discipline issue without hitting.  This is the only class that has to constantly be reminded to show respect.

Some of the class stayed with me until 2:30, as punishment.  They also had to come in early on Wednesday to clean my room.  The well-behaved kids were sad that they didn’t get to come in to clean the room.  Perhaps not the best punishment, if it’s viewed as a privilege.

Wednesday morning started with the first bell at 8:10.  While I waited for the kids to get in their rooms and do prayer I noticed several loaves of bread.  I asked the other teachers what was up and they said the doctors were coming today to check the children.  They would be arriving at 8:30 a.m.  It is standard practice that when someone comes to the school, they are welcomed with food and given cash as a thank you for coming by to do their job.  That’s fa’a Samoa fa’alavelave.  The teachers pay the cash. 

Before school I checked out the library.  Some of the teachers had supervised the cleaning of the room and reorganizing of books.  I quickly realized they had taken almost all of the English books and put them in storage.  Instead, they had neatly arranged some reference books and Samoan books.  The problem is that the Samoan books are not allowed to be touched by the students (they are full sets that teachers use in the classroom) and the reference books look lovely but are useless.  Really, how often does a Year 4 student in rural Samoa need to refer to Grey’s Anatomy?

I was frustrated and asked one of the teachers why they’d put away the English books.  “Because it looks prettier this way.”  “But the children can’t get to the books to read them.”  “Yes, they can, if they climb up the shelves and get them out of the boxes.”  Not my idea of a library, and since I arranged for more books to be sent from America for the library I was concerned.  Seems I’ll need to have a chat with my bosses to see if we can figure out a way to make the library look nice and still let the kids have access to the books.

At 10:10, I’d just finished teaching Year 7 and was working on typing the Social Science test.  A troop of nurses arrived.  I could tell by their uniforms.  For some reason they came directly to me.  I took them to the office, which they said was too small.  So I took them back to my classroom and ran to get the principal.  He brought in some Year 8 students to “tidy” my room.  Since I’d just had it cleaned that morning, it didn’t need much tidying.  What they did was to put tablecloths over the desks in the room.  Tablecloths are very important whenever there are guests present.  I always forget that.

While the kids put out the tablecloths, with the help of the Year 4 teacher since I’m clearly worthless in preparing for company, the principal thanked the nurses for coming and took them downstairs for tea.  The tea was tinned mackerel sandwiches, koko esi (soup made with papaya, koko Samoa and coconut cream), boiled eggs and very sweet, very milky coffee. 

The nurses measured height and weight and checked for lice.  They checked the kids’ hands, feet and skin on their chests and legs.  They also checked to see if the kids were wearing underpants.  Children without underwear (about 1/3) were smacked.   The process took approximately 2 minute per child.

After interval, when I got to dine on the leftovers from the nurses, I taught Year 8 in their room, since the nurses were still in my room.  After about 45 minutes, I saw that the van for the nurses was gone and asked Year 8 to move to my classroom so we could spread out and do some grammar games.  I followed them and realized they all stopped outside my room. 

While I was teaching Year 8, the Year 8 teacher, who’s also the principal, was meeting with Years 4 & 6 in my room.  For over an hour.  They were discussing which parents would bring what food for Friday.  The National exams for Years 4 & 6 will be given on Friday so proctors from other schools will be here.  That means food.  And when visitors get food, we get food. 

School broke at 1:30 instead of 2.  The principal explained we were breaking early because the children had seen the doctor that day.  Whatever.  I went home to finish typing the Social Science test without interruption. 

Thursday started with classes at 8:30 and went pretty much by the book.  Except that I was asked to copy Year 8 exam I’d typed for all the students in the district.  It was long and to save paper I needed to copy it back to back.  It took me three hours after school.

On Friday we were set to have the Years’ 4 and 6 exams.  A very nice woman from the Ministry was here.  She proctored both classes, about 70 children, in one room. 

Early in the morning, while I was teaching Year 7, I was brought breakfast.  The food was brought by the parents in honor of having the one woman here from the Ministry.  I was brought 3 sandwiches (2 egg salad, 1 spaghetti), crackers and butter, papaya soup, coconut soup and koko Samoa.  I ate ½ an egg salad sandwich, drank the Koko Samoa and gave the rest of the food to the kids.

At interval I was told I should go and visit with the lady from the Ministry.  It was an hour and a half after breakfast, so now we were having tea.  It was formal, just us important folks – the principal, the School Resource Officer, the woman from the Ministry and moi.  Two girls fanned the food to keep the flies off and a teacher sat in the back of the room, ready to fetch anything we needed.

I was chastised because I’d worn a skirt and shirt instead of a puletasi that day.  We wear uniform puletasis every day except Friday, when we can wear what we want.  Usually, it’s skirts/blouses, which are cooler than puletasis.  I didn’t know I was supposed to dress for the occasion.  Heck, I didn’t know it was an occasion.

In addition to my poor clothing, I was still full from breakfast, plus had a bit of an upset stomach.  I figured having whatever I ate reappear on the table soon after I ate it would be worse than not eating, so I just sat and tried to be charming.  Samoans don’t talk while they eat, so that meant just smiling.  Trying not to look at or smell the food, which included fried fish, two plates of taro, fried chicken, a ramen “salad” which had ramen noodles, chicken and some kind of oil dressing, boiled green bananas, potato salad, octopus in coconut cream and more egg salad sandwiches.   We had niu (green coconuts) to drink.

The way formal meals work is that all the food is put on the table.  The first diners (oldest, most respected first) eat what they want, then food is packaged for them to take home.  Everyone else, in this case teachers and some students, eat the rest.

The nice lady from the ministry left with two large baskets of food. 

After the feast, I was preparing for Friday song time and the close of the week.  I was feeling a bit down that no one had thanked me for staying 3 hours to copy the exam.  So I wasn’t exactly excited that just before I left for the day I was given two more exams and told to copy them by Monday.  I estimated it would take six hours.  It only took five hours on Saturday.

What keeps it interesting is that there’s no such thing as a typical week at school.

Postcards and Haircuts

Hey Lew, I hope you’re enjoying Macedonia.  Lew is a brand new PCT, training for service in Macedonia.  Before he left the US, he was thoughtful enough to send 3 postcards to my kids.  I picked up 2 of them today at the post office, along with 2 letters from Granny T.  Thanks, Lew.  Love you, Granny T! 

I’m working with the Year 7 kids on letter writing.  Monday we discussed the parts of a letter and the format.  I asked why someone would send a letter.  “To say ‘thank you’!” a couple of kids yelled.  “To ask for money!” several others yelled.  It seems that just sending a letter to say hello is not so common.

We’re going to keep working on letters and will begin posting responses to your post cards soon.

I need a hair cut.  In the year that I’ve been here I’ve had my hair cut several times.  Sometimes with more success than others.  I have baby fine blond/white hair.  It is not typical of hair here.  I know that by looking around and also because children, when they think I won’t notice, touch my hair.  A few women, too. They seem to find it fascinating because it is so fine.  The color, too, is unusual, which seems to be a source of great interest to children.

I’ve always had my hair cut in Apia.  It’s expensive, about $50 and requires a multiple bus and ferry rides which all cost money.  It also requires an overnight stay in Apia.  Usually I combine the hair cut with a visit with friends and shopping at Farmer Joes, the most well stocked market in the country. 

I’m saving my tala for my trip to New Zealand over the holidays so decided I’d see if I could get a hair cut in Savaii.  The short answer is “no”.  There are a couple of barber shops but they are aimed toward male Samoans and involve clippers rather than scissors.  One of the women in my women’s co. has short hair and I asked who cut hers.  Seems she used to go to Apia but now her son (an adult) cuts it.  With scissors.  I asked if he could cut mine but that didn’t work out.  Her hair is typically Samoan…thick and course.  Very nice and very unlike my wimpy, wispy mess.  Her son would be too afraid to touch it.

A man on the school committee said he could cut it.  Someone else told me he’s a professional hair cutter.  Seems they are both “pepelos” (liars) and he was using “hair cut” as a euphemism for what he wanted to do with me in my fale.  Samoan humor. 

My hair currently looks like Meg Ryan gone wrong.  Or like the hair on a baby chick.  It kind of sticks out and has some curly bits and some straight bits.  Mostly it’s so windy it doesn’t really matter.  Plus, since I only have a hand mirror and look at it rarely, who cares?  The only problem is the amount of time I spend trying to keep my blowing hair out of my face on the bus.  Guess I’d better plan a day in Apia.

Clothes

I’ve noticed that people here aren’t so picky about men’s vs. women’s clothes.  It’s very common to see a boy wearing a girl’s t-shirt.  Or shoes.  Backpacks are unisex.  I’ve seen a big Year 8 boy proudly carrying a pink Cinderella school bag. 

Saturday I was on the bus and a group of young men got on.  I’m guessing they were a rugby team.  Fit, muscular, sharing some male camaraderie.  Two were wearing what were clearly women’s tops.  One was a pink t-shirt with rhinestones and cap sleeves.  It was a belly shirt, exposing some serious abs.    One of the other guys was wearing a long sleeve top.  The kind with bell sleeves that cover all but a girl’s fingertips.  He wore it well.

I’ve seen men wear their wives’ puletasi skirts.  Really they’re the same as the men’s “skirts”.  They’re a piece of cloth with ties.  Usually the men wear them in dark colors with no prints and womens’ tend to be floral and brightly colored.  But same concept.

Imagine not having to worry about what you wear.  So what if the colors don’t match.  Who cares?  Was it made with females in mind and you’re a guy?  Don’t let that stop you.  As long as it’s relatively clean and comes close to fitting, it works.  It saves time, money and stress.  I much prefer the approach to fashion here than the much more restrictive rules at home. 

Teachers' Meeting

We had a teachers’ meeting a couple weeks ago.  As usual, I didn’t know about it until the end of the day before.  I’m getting much better about not getting excited about changes in the schedule.  Now I tend to be surprised if it’s just a regular day and I teach per the schedule.

I took the bus to the meeting.  I committed a faux pas in catching the bus.  I was walking out to the road, which is about 100 yards from my house.  I saw the bus coming.  I knew I had time to let it go and wait for the next bus but the excitement of not having to wait at all for the bus was too much for me.  The driver was looking my way and I waved.  He stopped.  Really, he could have just kept going but he stopped.  So I ran to the bus.  In my puletasi.  Carrying a briefcase.  You read that correctly.  I ran.

On the bus I sat next to a woman I know.  She’s a principal at another school and hosted a previous Peace Corps.  Nice lady.  I said hello.  She said hello and then looked out the window.  No chatting.  I think she didn’t want anyone to think she was friends with the crazy old palagi who stopped the bus from too far away and then ran.  Inappropriate at so many levels. 

I said something to my host brother when I got home about running for the bus and he said “I know.  We saw you.  We laughed at you.”  Nice to know that supportive families are universal.

The meeting was the same as the others I’ve been to.  The first hour was prayer, hymns, a sermon, speeches and the distribution of ulas (leis).  I got an ula, as did all the principals and the other PC present.

The presenter talked about the government goals of a competitive economy and better education and health care.  He said that the government had created markets for items that people on our island can produce, but that “they are lazy and would rather sleep all day and just call family in New Zealand and Australia for money rather than earn it.”  That got a huge laugh and lots of nods of agreement.

When he talked about improving teacher effectiveness, he made a speech about the need to actually speak to the students.  And, the need to move from behind the desk and move around the classroom.  He said “You sit, looking beautiful behind your desk, ignoring the children and laughing at your cell phone.  That’s not teaching.”  That, too, got a huge laugh with more nods of agreement.  I’ve seen exactly what he’s talking about and it doesn’t seem the teachers are the least bit embarrassed about it.  Or, they were covering their embarrassment with laughter. 

I was a bit distracted because the woman behind me kicked my seat for most of the meeting.  When she wasn’t kicking it, she was playing the drums on the back of my seat.  I felt right at home, having flown coach into Orlando more times than I can count.

Also distracting was that we had choral reading for all the items printed on the blackboard.  A group of 50 teachers, reading in unison.  It bothered me that they had the Five Secrets for Happiness.  Because there were only 3 of them. 

After 45 minutes of presentation, we had tea.  That included koko Samoa (always a good thing), and a plate with two sandwiches (1 egg salad and 1 mackerel), a naked chicken hot dog, a piece of coconut, a piece of papaya, a small pile of sea grapes (a type of raw seaweed) and a package of crackers.  That is considered a mid-morning snack.

After another hour of presentation, the meeting was ended with several speeches of thanks by those in attendance along with the presentation of cash to the presenter.  He’s our boss.  I was asked to contribute $5 for that.  Finally, we had a prayer and a hymn and it was over.

During the meeting, which was held at the conference facility at a nearby resort, 3 young boys wearing only shorts wandered in to see what was going on.  I’m not sure if they were just curious or were looking for their mother, but they just looked around for a couple of minutes then wandered off.  Samoa is a casual kind of place.

The presentation information posted on the blackboard was in English.  The entire presentation, other than the portions I quoted above, was in Samoan.   As has been the case in every meeting I’ve attended here, both large and small, there were a lot of side conversations.  By the end of the session, I’d venture to say that there were 10% of us actually trying to listen.  It didn’t seem to bother the presenter, who took a cell phone call at one point during the presentation.

I’ve worked in Manhatten, where black and dark colors are de rigueur.  I prefer Samoa, where the puletasis were all the colors of the rainbow, most with floral prints and many with glitter.  I was wearing my Thursday uniform which is a red/orange polyester floral print with gold glitter highlights.

I can now say with authority that I don’t like meetings, whether held in America in English or in Savaii, in Samoan. 

Afternote:

After the meeting I took the bus to town to check my mail, but I’d forgotten the PO closes for lunch for 1 ½ hours.  I decided to take a taxi up the road to do some shopping.  The taxi driver asked if this was my first visit to Samoa.  Keep in mind I was wearing a puletasi and a flower ula, carrying a briefcase and I’d told him where I wanted to go…in Samoan.  At first I thought he was pulling my leg.  He wasn't.