I spent the majority of the day today at Ring Road Orphan School. For those of you who I have e-mailed, this is the school in the slum where I have been helping teach first grade. Today was exam day for the students, so naturally, they divided my class in half and I was asked to administer testing to 14 of the 28 first graders. Great, I thought to myself I am expected to oversee the exams in Swahili and English for the morning. The kids “know” English but their classes are taught in Lou, which I am trying to pick up as quickly as possible so when I need to break up fights I have some authority!
Exams here are not like exams in the US; actually, nothing about the educational system is related to the way most of us learned. Students sit and copy from the board and are expected to understand the material simply from repetition. Our first exam was English, one by one my students came to my desk and were asked to read 15 words in English and then 5 simple sentences. It was heartbreaking, not a single student in the entire class passed the test. They were simple words like bed, pen, pan, hello, fine, book, etc. But these kids have never been taught that letters make sounds, they read by recognition and memorization so when they stumble on hello and I break it down--h-e-l-l-o they crank their heads to the side and look at me like I have lost it. Maybe for some this will work just fine, but I know if I were in their position I wouldn’t ever learn English.
During our break, I went out to find Mike, the other Mzungu (White person), I needed someone who could maybe help me understand my frustration. My co-teacher sees no flaws in the way her class is learning or their performance on this set of exams. In talking to Mike, I came to the realization that most of these kids are at school because they get two meals a day and when you are an orphan living in an African slum you will do anything to make sure you have something in your tummy at the end of the day. These kids don’t know anyone who has gotten an admirable job by getting an education. Most of them live with some relative who makes less then a dollar a day. AIDs is rapidly growing because the fishing communities in Kisumu aren’t making the money they use to and women are having to sell themselves to bring home food at the end of the day. These kids were born into homes where death isn’t shocking. The goal for every student is to get through the required equivalent of
middle school by passing the government tests and then they can help make money to support their siblings in whatever way possible. These tests drive every lesson plan and give teachers very little reason to be creative in their classrooms. My co-teacher doesn’t even have a college degree. Mike told me not to be discouraged by all of this but I really don’t see how I can just accept it. I want these kids to have some hope of leaving the slum. I want them to understand that with hard work there are rewards and some hope but when I can’t identify where those rewards and hope might come from its hard to promise them anything.
How in the world was I lucky enough to be born into a family where going to college wasn’t an option, rather it was a choice of where I wanted to go. Where I am able to say hey, I need to be broken down before I am strong enough to make the next move and my parents support me leaving the country and volunteering for months without me supporting the family in any way. I am so lucky to have people who I can talk to at the end of a day like today.
I realize what I see and am challenged by pails in comparison to the struggles these kids face every single day. The most amazing part is you wouldn’t ever know that these kids don’t have it all. From the outside I realize these kids are going to have to find someone who believes in every one of them to pull through but for now they come to school to eat and that gives them the strength to keep smiling.
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