Life' Little Lessons

Entry via Letter

Its funny when you reach that point in life where you finally realize you are looking through the other side of the mirror, when we had those huge pop-bottle glasses (in my case bright pink) that were cool-until we hit, high school and ransacked the house trying to hide the evidence of this fashion disaster, and none of us realize how truly annoying we are as college freshmen until we hit that senior year. My life lesson came to me in flashbacks throughout the balmy day as I graded the huge stack of papers that litter my table underneath rocks, saucers, and anything else that can serve as a paper weight in my windowless and thus wind-tunnelesque home.

I flashed back to high school when my lit teacher pleaded with us not to just make stuff up and write it down, as it was more work for her but less points for us. I also flashed to my Spanish teacher, who used to chide us for making up words that looked like they were Spanish and then use them on our tests. As I corrected over 240 essay tests this week, crossing out made up English words and writing lines through the same thing said 4 different ways, I can now totally sympathize with every teacher who ever had me as a student. I’m glad for one great difference though - a difference I believe would help the children of America in their education should they be privileged enough to partake, and that is the close relationship I have with all of my students.

Originally I thought students would not want to be anywhere near me after school, but here it is a sign of respect to always help the teachers, and as such I’m constantly surrounded by students, asking questions, borrowing books, carrying my water, or even taking naps on my porch with my cat. It’s not just the “mzungu” factor either; the other teachers are also constantly surrounded by students, always looking for ways to help around our homes, on the school grounds, or simply wanting to hang out. These relationships benefit everyone, I’ve learned more about Tanzanian culture as my students teach me to balance a water bucket on my head, build a nest for chicken eggs, and braid my hair so that it looks more African, and in return the students ask more questions in class, participate and pay attention (They all learned the hard way that once I learn their names I call on them all the time).

In Closing – to all teachers who ever had me in a class – who thought I wasn’t paying good enough attention, or who had to read an essay where I repeated the same thing over and over again – and then read everyone else’s tests of a similar nature: Thank-you. When I think of the fact that I’ve only been doing this for 3 months while some teachers carriers can exceed 30 years, it only deepens my respect for every teacher I’ve had the privilege to learn from.