6/23/10: “What a MESS”

Today I taught my classroom algebra and it took way longer than I expected. They seem to have trouble with some of the most basic concepts, yet problems that are difficult for me or were when I was learning them, like matrices, are a breeze. I’m not sure how that happened, but anything with algebra seems so foreign to them and not natural to calculate.

I was trying to teach them a method of figuring out what I called Two-Variable, Two-Equation problems, in which both x and y appear in two different equations and you’re asked to find the values of the variables. I ended up devising a system for calculating the variables when the equations are in the form ax + by = c. This method contained four steps, each one starting with one of the letters from the acronym MESS: Multiply, Eliminate, Solve, Solve. That is, Multiply one equation by a constant so that there is a common a or b term in both equations, Eliminate either the x or y term by addition or subtraction of the equations, Solve for the remaining term, then Solve for the final variable. This worked out phenomenally. After inspiration from Jackson, one of the students, I even devised a little hand gesture that accompanied the mnemonic acronym, and the students responded excellently.

It’s hard to come up with acronyms and mnemonics and body gestures that relay math concepts, but when I do come up with them, the students seem to finally know what to do with the problem. They may not understand the concepts behind acquiring the solution, but as long as they do in fact know how to get the solution, that’s one step closer to them passing the COSC exams and attending University. Ultimately I would like for them to understand why we do certain things, but I feel that is far beyond the scope of our brief crash-course for the COSC exams.

I’ve been spending the evenings researching scholarships for my students to pay their secondary school fees, and finally I received a call from a worker in the Ministry of Education in Lesotho. From his call, I gathered that as long as a death certificate was available to document the parents’ deaths, the principals of the secondary schools just need to register the students properly and they can receive full funding. The only problem is that often the parents simply abandon the family and there is no documentation of death, but the guardian is not in the picture whatsoever. It seems that they somehow fell through the cracks of the system provided, and hopefully I can provide them with the resources and contacts that they need in order to get the fees secured. It feels so good to know that I am finally getting somewhere and doing something truly helpful for the students – something that gives a quick and measureable result. I know that my time spent helping the students review for the COSC tests is invaluable to them, but having some instant gratification that I know will enrich their lives would be welcomed greatly.

I’ve started to realize one aspect in which Thaba Bosiu culture is so different from American culture – judgment. It could be that I just don’t know some of the locals well enough yet, but it has become apparent to me through the church experience and in school that judging another Basotho is rare. In America we are constantly comparing ourselves to one another, seeing how we appear in some form relative to an ideal. Our students were not afraid to sing loudly in front of one another on the first day of class, nor were they afraid of the reaction by their peers when they demonstrated their “acting” abilities in the middle of a circle. They paid no mind to what others may think and simply expressed themselves in the best manner they deemed fit. I like that, a lot. I admire their courage, even if they don’t realize they possess it.

6/24/10: “Okay, Pretend I’m your blood”

After teaching I helped tutor Tito, one of Beverly and Susan’s students. I have never come across someone with such a low level of reading comprehension. He couldn’t answer a single question in his Biology COSC exam, so we are taking the next several days to go through the entire test with him. Our 2-hour tutoring session proceeded extremely slowly, and explaining how a clot prevents blood flow to the heart, thus creating a heart attack was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I eventually used the configuration of desks in front of me to mimic veins in the heart. I explained, “So pretend that I am blood and this whole room is the heart. The rows in the desks are the coronary arteries. Normally blood can flow to the heart muscle (and I walked through the row of desks) where it nourishes the organ. When a clot occurs, however (I pushed a desk into the aisle and ran into it) the blood can’t flow to the rest of the heart. When the heart doesn’t get blood, the muscle dies.” Tito eventually understood this concept, after I ran into a desk several times (I now have a bruise on my shin). We got through 3 questions in 2 hours.

I think Tito’s biggest problem, and the rest of the students as well, is their general comprehension of written English. I often have a hard time reading a paragraph and being able to summarize the information myself, so I know that this must be especially difficult for students who do not regularly speak English. If the COSC exams were conducted in Sesotho, I’m sure scores would dramatically improve. Not being able to read “bile comes from the liver” and then writing that the liver produces bile is a perfect example of the gap in comprehension, which was something that happened while tutoring Tito.

6/25/10: “This won’t hurt a bit…”

I decided to volunteer at Elohim clinic with Nurse Rebecca today. Our first patient walked in about 5 minutes after Rebecca fetched me. “Alright, take his history” she instructed me. I hadn’t conducted a patient history since Nicaragua, which was a year ago, and let’s just say my skills were pretty rusty. After much prompting from Rebecca, I diagnosed the boy with an upper respiratory infection. “What should I do now?” she questioned. I suggested antibiotics and a cough suppressant. We ended up giving the boy four different medications: a cough suppressant, multi vitamins, a bronchodilator to help with the cough, and one more that I can’t remember.

It was then the boy’s grandfather’s turn. He had arthritis (a diagnosis that took me too long to realize, embarrassingly) and she explained to me exactly WHY he was feeling each symptom, something that was extremely helpful for me. She gave him a multivitamin and an injection to help with the pain. The injection was IM and she did all injections in the buttocks. She showed me (after the man dropped his drawers without a second thought, another testament to their non-judgmental attitude here) how you divide the buttocks into quadrants and inject in the upper outer quadrant in order to avoid the sciatic nerve. These injections looked painful to say the least. The needle was huge.

When we were finished I documented everything in the man’s chart, which was a small medical record booklet that all Basotho people carry around with them. Rebecca had all prescriptions and medications and injections that the patients needed in her small room, but she said that if she didn’t have something they would have to go to the “chemist” to get it. She charged based on what kind of appointment and treatment was needed, but the most expensive total bill for the consultation and all medications was about 140 rand, which is roughly twenty dollars. The rest of the morning and early afternoon I saw several women and children, diagnosed a fungal infection, another upper respiratory infection, and more arthritis. Nothing monumental, but altogether a very enjoyable and extremely educational experience.