7/16/10: On motivation and encouragement

I shadowed nurse Rebecca today and only saw one patient. He was a young boy, no more than two years old, who had a horrible staph infection. It was all over his stomach, in open and oozing sores, and had spread down to his legs and groin area. He also had a huge protrusion from his bellybutton, a deformity I had never before seen in the United States.

When the boy and his mother left the clinic I inquired about the growth. Rebecca explained that many home-deliveries occur in Lesotho and the umbilical cords are almost never ligated properly. When that occurs the bellybutton becomes extremely distended. This boy had no “outtie” bellybutton, but the growth looked almost like an adult’s thumb finger. It was a common defect in Lesotho, but I had never seen it in America.

Usually after I am done seeing patients at the clinic Rebecca gives me her nursing textbooks for me to read and learn about the various diseases and plights that the Basotho most commonly contract. Today, however, we discussed the educational system in the country and my own thoughts about teaching at Letsie. Rebecca told me about her own experiences as a child and those which her own children have encountered. We spoke for hours, and I could not possibly relay all that I learned in a short blog. Here were the main points that struck me the most:
1. Children in Thaba Bosiu receive a much lower quality of education than those in Maseru. The COSC exmas are passed at a much higher rate and with better grades in general. The schools are far superior, but the school fees are also far more expensive. Many of our students live in the outskirts of Maseru and attending school there would be much easier and better. However, the fees are too exorbitant for many to afford, and the lower-quality schools are the only choice if they are to receive any education at all.
2. English is used sparingly in the classroom. The teachers are not quite fluent in English themselves, and they prefer to teach the material in Sesotho. This is a huge disservice for the students, for the COSC exams are written completely in English and often the most difficult part of taking the exams is simply comprehending the questions being asked. If one does not know the meaning of one word, the entire question will likely be answered wrong or just not attempted at all. I have seen this quite often in the classroom. I tell my students to raise their hands if any word is unfamiliar and I gladly explain the meaning using synonyms and other words they are confident about. Their teachers are not able to do this often.
3. When students provide the wrong answers in class they are ridiculed and berated. This makes them extremely reluctant to answer questions in the future and simply repeat whatever the teachers tells them. Rather than understanding the concepts and being able to put them into their own words, the students memorize one definition, just to avoid having to potentially get the answers wrong.
4. Teachers and adults commonly tell students how stupid, ugly, and unimportant they are. When an answer is wrong, the common response is “You are so stupid!” Rather indicating which part of the naswer was wrong or how it could be changed to be correct, teachers simply embarrass the students. Girls are frequently told that they are ugly and will never find a man to love them and will amount to little in society. From an early age ( I distinctly remember being told in kindergarten how “special” we all were) we are told that we are important and have individual talents. This is certainly not the case in Lesotho.
5. If the COSC exams are not successfully passed (and sometimes when they are) students simply return to their homes and sit around all day, contributing little, if anything, to their family income and society in general. It’s become a huge epidemic in Lesotho and other developing countries I am told. Students are not taught about jobs that do not require university degrees, technical colleges, or what to do if further schooling is just not feasible. They give up and stay at home. This leads to depression and often the use of drugs/alcohol/sex to cope with the monotonous life of someone who has no profession or financial resources.

I started to feel again that the goal of having my students simply pass the COSC was not my only personal goal while in Lesotho. I want my students to feel that they are important parts of society, that there is hope that they can succeed and lead a better life than they currently have. Rebecca came from an extremely poor and hungry family, but with her hard work, inherent ability to learn quickly, and motivation, she has her own medical clinic and is able to provide her family with an exceptionally loving and satisfied life. They do not go hungry and have a television, computer, electricity, and luxuries that many Basothos do not.

I want my students to feel cared for, that I genuinely adore them. Many have no parents living or live far away from them, and they do not receive the generous love that I receive every single day. I cannot imagine how alone and detached they must feel. I want them to know that they are competent and that they should not fear failure; rather, failures can be the best grounds for learning and ultimately success. I learn best from failure, for the slight embarrassment (or sometimes intense shame that can come from failures) is the best deterrent from making that same mistake again. I frequently misspeak or solve simple problems on the board when I teach; I honestly feel that by making mistakes in front of the students (and then fixing them with their help) they can see that it is okay to err.

The lack of confidence of the students, mainly inside the classroom but outside somewhat as well, is difficult to witness. I believe that they have the capacity to improve and grow, but they do not see themselves as smart and capable individuals. I want them to laugh, to smile, to believe that they can achieve with hard work and dedication. I am constantly praising them for what they do right or almost right. Whenever I correct them I use the “sandwich” approach – give a complement about using the right equation for example, and then give the constructive criticism or point out where the student went awry, and then give another complement about “having the right idea” or knowing “how to attack the problem”. I then always say “great work” or “good” or some other form of praise. They do not receive praise and I want them to know that their hard work is not going unnoticed.

7/17/10: “I am so happy to have you here” and the Mountain at Night

Yesterday we all went over to one of our student’s, Thakani’s, house. Lena came to stay with us for the weekend and she attended as well. Thakani gave us a grocery list of ingredients that would be needed for her to show us how to cook a proper Basotho meal, and we gladly accepted her invitation to feed us. It was a good 6-hour expedition, and I loved every minute of it.

We were greeted eagerly by Thakani, a huge smile spreading across her face and completely out of breath from running at top speed to fetch us from the road (she lives in the middle of a village that only has dirt paths). “I am so happy and so excited for you all to be here!” she offered time and time again throughout the morning and afternoon.

Thakani rents a one-bedroom area from a woman who lives between Thaba Bosiu and Maseru (the price of living at the boarding at Letsie is too much for Thakani’s single mother to pay for; her father passed away several years ago). She has no electricity and the room contains only a bed and dresser, and a table with 2-burner gas stove. The shelves are empty and the student has very few possessons. “I am very poor, so you will have to excuse the tiny room” she said several times. We could not be happier to be with her and at the same time I was ashamed at how many clothes and shoes (and hundreds of beauty products…) I own. Thakani owned almost nothing, but she is genuinely one of the happiest students I teach. She has a naturally gorgeous smile (I’m jealous, as her teeth look just like mine, and I had years of hideous braces and rubber bands…) and a pure heart. We were joined later by Vincent and Maschecks, two more of our students. We had a great time laughing and talking, sharing stories and discussing our lives.

We helped cut up vegetables, but Thakani did most of the cooking. We had a green salad, potato salad, rice, fried chicken, and “gravy” (a bean dish that tasted remarkably like Goode Co’s baked beans…). It was absolutely delicious. *Note to parents: I will cook this for you when I get home to show you the great food I was able to lean how to make here ☺ * Although it was absolutely wonderful to have a great home-cooked meal prepared especially for us, the best part of the entire experience was the way that Thakani obviously felt to host us and the connection we made with her. I do not think Thakani will ever forget the day she hosted us for lunch. As we left Thakani started to get slight tears in her eyes and thanked us graciously for coming over. “I get so lonely here all by myself” she told us time after time, and I wanted to take her back home with me! She sees her mother maybe once a month and the same amount of time passes before she sees her twin brother or older sister, both of whom live in different places. I cannot imagine what life must be like for Thakani to attend school in a completely different community than where she grew up or her family lives. She is strong and independent and incredibly mature for her age.

Today I climbed Thaba Bosiu Mountain with Lena, and we asked Titu, one of Beverly and Susan’s students, to be our guide. He was incredibly knowledgeable about the history of the country and the mountain in general. It was a great and absolutely beautiful day today, perfect for trekking up the mountain. When we returned I told Titu that I would buy him Simbas, a packaged snack like Cheetos, as a thanks for taking us and teaching us about his history and culture. I had bought Titu a package of Simbas before, and I know how much he loves them. When we got to the small general store (Called Ramajoana), however, Titu sheepishly asked me if he could have some bread instead. “I’m very hungry right now” he said. Titu is a double orphan and lives with his sister, cared for by a neighbor who knew his parents prior to their death. I knew Titu probably hadn’t eaten today and would likely not eat until dinnertime, so I ended up buying several items for him. He never requested anything more from me, but I offered nearly every item in the store. I got bread, eggs, milk, oranges, tomatoes, and the promised Simba chips for him. Lena bought him “fat cakes” (donut-like dough balls) as well.

After we bought Titu food he showed us the house he stays in. it had literally nothing inside. There was no food and almost no possessions. If his neighbor wasn’t outside and he didn’t tell me that it was where he lived I would have thought it was abandoned. Again I was reminded how extravagantly I live in America, and how stark the difference is between my life and Titu’s. it is moments like this that I am reminded again how loving my family is, how fortunate I am to live in America and be educated and healthy.