(l) One of the many landfills behind the school
(r) The toilets at school. They don't have doors on them. I'm sure this would violate so many health codes in the US.
Friday, January 19, 2007
Clean Start
Since it's the beginning of the new year, the students had to clean up the school. Nobody taught on Friday while the students changed from their school uniforms to regular clothes and scrubbed the school down.
Say What?
Oftentimes when I teach my Social Studies class, the children don’t understand what I’ve just written on the board. So to better illustrate my point, I give examples and hypothetical situations to explain the issue. We were talking about trade unions one day when I started to give one my examples. “So, say I’m a taxi driver...” I began. Before I could finish my example the class recited back to me in unison, “I’m a taxi driver.”
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Picture Perfect
Blogger's Note: I'm back to two posts this week. Enjoy.
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Over the holiday, I got the perfect Christmas present from my parents. They gave me a new camera to replace the one I spilled my Nalgene all over. Yay! Here’s a compilation of a few pictures (recent, not recent, and not mine) to celebrate the addition of pictures to my blog.
We made a day trip to Parika to visit the market last Saturday. Of course the market ended up being closed, so we just hung out by the river.
For the Parika trip, we had to cross the river by speedboat, as seen here. 
The Guyanese clothes dryer: wind. This picture is old.
This picture isn’t mine. Jon, a fellow volunteer living in another region, took it. This is basically his back yard in Mabaruma. Beautiful.
But I’m not that jealous because this is how you grade papers with no electricity. Note the nice empty bottle of rum on Molly’s desk, which is a necessity when you have to work in the dark. Again the photo credit goes to Jon.
Stage Fright
There are 4 stages in the development of interpersonal relationships: 1) orientation, 2) exploration, 3) affective exchange, and 4) stable exchange. Based on my experiences, it seems the Guyanese like to fast forward through stages 1-3 and immediately arrive at stage 4, overstepping many American cultural boundaries and oftentimes invading one’s privacy.
On Monday morning, shortly after I had just woken up, I heard a knock at the front door from an unannounced visitor. I slowly opened the door to see my roommate’s student take off his shoes and walk right in.
Stage 1 Orientation: Student begins to orientate himself around the house.
Me: Um, come in [student].
Student: Miss Nadia home?
Me: No she’s not.
The student sits down and makes himself at home while he rummages through our things.
Stage 2 Exploration: Student explores our personal belongings lying around the living room.
Me: Would you like some breakfast?
Student: No thanks Miss.
Me: Ok, well I’m going to get ready for school. Let me know if you need anything.
I begin running back and forth getting ready. The morning grogginess still hasn’t worn off, but I attempt to make conversation with the student. After a few exchanges, I run into my room, give the door a gentle push shut and begin putting on sunscreen as the student remains sitting on the couch.
Me: So [student], are you waiting for me to walk to school with you?
Student: Me don’t know Miss.
Stage 3 Affective Exchange: My thoughtful exchange with the student to determine his length of stay was not effective.
I continue getting ready when the student asked, “Miss, what is that cream you’re putting on your legs?” Startled, I quickly look up to see two little eyes peeping through the crack of my door that didn’t shut completely.
Stage 4 Stable Exchange: In my calm and stable teacher voice, I tell the student to get his ass back on the couch.
On Monday morning, shortly after I had just woken up, I heard a knock at the front door from an unannounced visitor. I slowly opened the door to see my roommate’s student take off his shoes and walk right in.
Stage 1 Orientation: Student begins to orientate himself around the house.
Me: Um, come in [student].
Student: Miss Nadia home?
Me: No she’s not.
The student sits down and makes himself at home while he rummages through our things.
Stage 2 Exploration: Student explores our personal belongings lying around the living room.
Me: Would you like some breakfast?
Student: No thanks Miss.
Me: Ok, well I’m going to get ready for school. Let me know if you need anything.
I begin running back and forth getting ready. The morning grogginess still hasn’t worn off, but I attempt to make conversation with the student. After a few exchanges, I run into my room, give the door a gentle push shut and begin putting on sunscreen as the student remains sitting on the couch.
Me: So [student], are you waiting for me to walk to school with you?
Student: Me don’t know Miss.
Stage 3 Affective Exchange: My thoughtful exchange with the student to determine his length of stay was not effective.
I continue getting ready when the student asked, “Miss, what is that cream you’re putting on your legs?” Startled, I quickly look up to see two little eyes peeping through the crack of my door that didn’t shut completely.
Stage 4 Stable Exchange: In my calm and stable teacher voice, I tell the student to get his ass back on the couch.
Friday, January 05, 2007
Back to Basics
Blogger's Note: I've been back in Guyana for half a week, so there will be only one post. Hopefully I'll be able to resume the two posts a week next time. Happy New Year everyone!
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After indulging myself for three weeks of cleanliness, civilization and delicious holiday food, it’s back to living the simple life. I was actually eager to step off the plane knowing that I would be greeted with warm weather after enduring the bitter cold 50 degree Texas climate. Five minutes after standing in the Customs line, I started sweating and all too soon remembered how hot it gets in Guyana.
During my first mini-bus ride back, I was crammed against three women, a huge basket filled with bananas, and the conductor straddling me since he had no seat for himself. If the driver had suddenly slammed on the brakes, my knee would have hit the conductor and prevented him from ever having children. I had never felt so close to a stranger before, not even squished on the New York subway lines. It was a nice welcome back gesture from the Guyanese.
School resumed immediately after my restful holiday. The second I entered the classroom, I crisply met reality when I saw a note written on the board by one of the students wishing everyone a “Marry New Years!”
I began the new term by asking the Head of Department what I could expect for the week. She optimistically let me know that if I wanted, I could start teaching. Then she quickly added that only 12 students showed up today and realistically nothing would be going on for the remainder of the week. After an uneventful morning, mainly consisting of the 12 students socializing, I asked another teacher what we could do this afternoon. “Same thing we were doing this morning,” she replied, “We’ll be staring at the wall.”
The next day I walked into the classroom to see a teacher with a ball of yarn and a crochet needle. Clearly the day will be just as eventful as the one before. One of the teachers broke out a bottle of Guyanese Cherry Brandy and poured me a glass. She quickly noted that the bright red beverage over ice resembled juice, in case any student sitting 5 feet away asked. Then, in the front of the classroom, four Guyanese teachers and one volunteer made a toast to fresh beginnings and the new year.
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After indulging myself for three weeks of cleanliness, civilization and delicious holiday food, it’s back to living the simple life. I was actually eager to step off the plane knowing that I would be greeted with warm weather after enduring the bitter cold 50 degree Texas climate. Five minutes after standing in the Customs line, I started sweating and all too soon remembered how hot it gets in Guyana.
During my first mini-bus ride back, I was crammed against three women, a huge basket filled with bananas, and the conductor straddling me since he had no seat for himself. If the driver had suddenly slammed on the brakes, my knee would have hit the conductor and prevented him from ever having children. I had never felt so close to a stranger before, not even squished on the New York subway lines. It was a nice welcome back gesture from the Guyanese.
School resumed immediately after my restful holiday. The second I entered the classroom, I crisply met reality when I saw a note written on the board by one of the students wishing everyone a “Marry New Years!”
I began the new term by asking the Head of Department what I could expect for the week. She optimistically let me know that if I wanted, I could start teaching. Then she quickly added that only 12 students showed up today and realistically nothing would be going on for the remainder of the week. After an uneventful morning, mainly consisting of the 12 students socializing, I asked another teacher what we could do this afternoon. “Same thing we were doing this morning,” she replied, “We’ll be staring at the wall.”
The next day I walked into the classroom to see a teacher with a ball of yarn and a crochet needle. Clearly the day will be just as eventful as the one before. One of the teachers broke out a bottle of Guyanese Cherry Brandy and poured me a glass. She quickly noted that the bright red beverage over ice resembled juice, in case any student sitting 5 feet away asked. Then, in the front of the classroom, four Guyanese teachers and one volunteer made a toast to fresh beginnings and the new year.
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