A day in the life

                So I got to thinking.  I was thinking about this blog, and about everything I tell you, and about what you might like to read about. 

                And the thought came to me:  do you know what I do every day?  Sure, I am a teacher…I go to school…I have little kids running around after me all the time like you see in those Peace Corps “Life is Calling” advertisements… the usual. 

But you don’t know the little things.  The things that have become so average that I forget to tell you about them.

                So here goes.

                During the week, I wake up at around 5:45 a.m., which gives me an hour to get ready before I need to leave for school.  I’m usually too lazy (or too cold) to go outside, so I pee in a bucket.  Then I heat up some water on the stove for coffee and a bath (the baths have been happening less frequently…it’s winter.  No heater.  Three times a week is enough!).  I have to boil my water for three minutes and put it through a water filter before it’s safe to drink.

                So I get ready as usual.  I dump the bath water outside.  I schlep out to the latrine and empty the pee bucket.  I usually have toast and eggs or oatmeal for breakfast.  And then I leave.  I walk to my principal’s house which is in a neighboring village, about a 30 minute walk.  And from there, we either catch a taxi to school or get a ride from her husband.  School is only about a three-minute drive from her house.

                We have morning assembly, which is where the entire school lines up by class outside and sings, prays, and hears announcements from the teachers.  Assembly starts at 7:45 and class starts at 8 a.m.  I teach English to my 7^th graders first.  They are my favorite class.  There are 23 of them and I know and love each and every one of them as if they were my own kids.  My heart is swelling up just thinking about them.  When I walk in the room, they all stand customarily and greet me (“Good morning madam! How are you madam!”).  They have been working so hard to pass their primary school exit exam this October, and secretly I wish that they could stay with me just one more year.  I am so proud of them.

                The 5^th and 6^th graders are next.  There aren’t many of them (and we don’t have enough buildings at school), so their classes are combined.  It’s a difficult class to teach because of the difference in English levels between the two classes.  It seems as if my lessons are always either too easy for some or too hard for others.  I have mostly boys in the 6^th grade class, and they crack me up.  They aren’t as shy as the girls, so when they come up to my desk to get their homework marked, they like to reach out and touch my “slick” hair.  Since they’re so outgoing, we have a lot of dancing in our class.  They all know dance moves to identify whether a verb is in the present, past, or future tense.

                Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday afternoons, I teach Life Skills at the high school next to my house.  I teach Form A and B, which is more or less the equivalent of freshmen and sophomores.  They are absolutely naughty.  They think it’s funny to push my limits, to ask silly questions and to talk out loud without being called on. There are so many of them that it’s hard to control the classroom when they get excited (the first time I said “sex” in class caused a complete uproar).  My smallest class has around 60 and the largest class has a little over 100.  The desks are literally crammed wall-to-wall, and I have only a few feet to move around in front of the chalkboard.  It feels like being on stage.

                I get home from school anytime between three and four.  My house is usually a wreck, so I do chores:  sweeping, washing dishes (in buckets), fetching water from the tap (only about 15 yards from my house!) and watering my garden.  The neighborhood gang from the primary school likes to come over and play, so I keep them entertained with coloring books (thanks Grant!) and crafts (thanks Grandma!). 

                Sometime later on, I usually wander over to my host family’s house and visit with my host sisters and mom.  They have a TV and couches (!!), so if I make it in time after school, I watch Oprah re-runs with them.  When I go to leave and meander back to my house, Maphoka comes along and we sit outside on my doorstep and chat until it’s time for her to go back inside and cook dinner.

                Back in May, my boyfriend somehow got power installed in my house (some girls are courted with jewelry… I get electricity J) so when it’s dark, I don’t need to use a paraffin lamp anymore—I have one small bulb above my desk that is enough to light most of my hut.  I work on lesson plans for the next day, listen to BBC on the radio, and cook dinner over my gas stove.  I try to cook enough for two so I can put half in a lunch box for the following day.

                By 8:30 or 9 p.m., I’m tired enough to crawl into bed.  My bed is awful.  It’s been voted the Worst Bed in Peace Corps on several occasions.  If I’m lying down and cough, all of the coils inside the mattress vibrate.  I think that the mattress is only coils—no fluff. 

                Then I either read for a while or watch a TV show on my computer.  And I go to bed.  And I wake up the next day and do it all over again.