First day at New Franeli

At 8:30 AM, a student from New Franeli, Lucky, came and picked me up from Sharon's place. It was a 20-25 min walk to the school. We walked along the dirt roads, dodging chickens, dogs, bikes, and cars. City Hoppas, or city busses, blew exhaust into our faces, a mist of gray gas showering us along with muddy sprinkles. Most of the walk was quiet, me asking Lucky what he wants to be when he grows up, where his family is. Before long, we arrived at an opening at a fence. We are here, Lucky said, and we walked into the opening.

What school? There was no building, or the so called building was a collection of tin sheets held together by nails and a wooden skeleton. I was wondering how children played in such a muddy yard, when I saw a 3 year old dump himself on the ground in an attempt at a cartwheel. He didn't care, he was carefree. A strong stench of feces and more exhaust wafted up my nose, as I was taken into the "office".

In America, principal offices are sacred places. You cannot talk to the principal unless by appointment. They are embellished with a fancy desk with a name place to be distinguishable from the rest of the school staff. This office is no different than the other tin sheet buildings. The office space is no bigger than the desk and chair it had in it, and the only division between the principal and the secretary is two wooden sticks. I was told that this space is just as mine as it is the staffs. Wow.

I was then introduced to all the students in the school. I walked up to the doorway and peeped in. Right away, the students stood up out of respect. There was no light except for the sunlight streaming through the small window. The erasers were made of the same material that fills the foam pit at the Wilmette Park District gymnastics center. It was like those cartoon episodes where the character is in the dark, and the only thing you can see are a pair of eyes. Because the skins of my students were so dark, I just saw a bunch of eyes. As my eyes adjusted, I saw that there were one too many studetns squished at each desk. Their cubbies were nails crudely hammered into the sides of the wooden skeleton. Their backpacks plastic bags instead of the new Barney backpack I had to beg my parents for as a child.

And yet, these kids wanted to learn. They are hungry, hungry for knowledge, to learn as much as they can. In inner city Chicago, there is a big problem with class room morale, and a high drop out rate. Here, I had no problem with that. They were so respectful, participating, despite being shy. I'm trying to piece together how and why these students are so eager to learn. What makes their situation so that they want to be here, not somewhere else?

The principal took me out to the yard and showed me the surroundings of the school. To the right, a slum. To the left, a slum. In front, a slum. These kids had not been going to school, and the principal had the started the school to have a place for the kids to go. He does not get paid to do this. There are only 7 teachers for over 200 students. I want my Standard 8 students to pass the national exam.

I mean, these students don't even have a proper school building. They don't have their own books, they don't hvae lab materials, calculators, or even pencil sharpeners. What makes them so different? They live in possibly poorer situations than in America.

I have more to ponder, but the internet cafe person is locking up, and it's getting dark. They don't call Nairobi, Nairobbery for no reason.

Thank you for all yoru prayers and support. I wish I can phone my family and friends but it is not possible now.

Becky

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It's slowly getting easier to teach without the materials I'm used to having. From now on, I'm going to have these permanent classes: Standard 8 Math, Standard 7 Science, and Standard 5 English. The kids are starting to know me, and we even tried playing some games together.

For you IMSA people, I tried teaching them bibbity bibbity bop. It worked wonders with our reflection group and for E2K camps, but these kids just didn't get it! They are so quiet, all the kids barely tried to keep from going inside the circle! And when I tried to advance the game to icnlude "jello", "charlie's angels" and "samurai", they all kept doing the same motion. We just playd the Kenyan version of "duck duck goose" for almost an hour.

Again, these kids don't have a playground. But they have so much fun. You can see it in their faces. I remember back to my childhood, when my sister and I would play with a simple blanket on the floor or have that blanket draped over chairs and pretend it was a house because my parents couldn't afford to buy us toys.

My favorite part about being with the kids is that they always aske me to sing. My first day, they sang for me after I sang them the national athem, which i had to make up words b/c i hadn't sung it since 8th grade. The kids started singing Jesus Loves Me, and they were surprised to see me joining in. It brought me back to VBS all over again. We went through "Making Melodies", "Deep deep", "who's the king of the mountain" just everything! When I looked out the door, there was a crowd of little children from the baby class gathered at the entrance at Standard 7 belting out. By the time i was in 5th or 6th grade, I was embarrassed to sing those songs. These kids thought they were great even though they will go on to highschool soon. The beauty of simplicity. I have not come formally on a mission trip here, but seeing that Kenya is mostly Christian, I have been talking about the bible with them. They are curious to know what I personally believe in.

Actually, this whole experience has taught me that I can have control over a class of highschoolers in the future. Although I am teaching standard 7 and 8, most of the kids are the age of sophomores and juniors in high school. I connect with them well, and they make me laugh. It was so funny, they all wanted me to do the splits. And after I did, this kid claimed he could do one also. Something caught my attention outside, anad when I turned my head around, the kid had propped his shoe at his knee and bent his leg so he had done the "splits". We all laughed for quite a long time. I'm more confident with working in highschool now. Yay!

Meghan ( found out that's the spelling) came back from Uganda, finally. She arrived at 5 AM and was sleepnig when I left for school. I hope it won't be as lonely here as it has kinda been this past weekend.

Again, it's getting dark and I want to get bananas before I go back home. I miss everybody back home.
Becky