2.6

First Day of Track Practice-

I woke at 5:15 am to the sound of the other coach calling me. The moon was still out. I yawned as I dressed and moved dazed out the door toward the dorms. I could hear murmurs as I neared, and as I turned the corner, 200 girls stood huddled, talking, waiting to run. They got up by choice. With some quick instruction from the head coach, we were off. One thing the coach said to the girls before we left was, "you're going to keep us entertained with some good music, right?" Yes, was the reply. I didn't really know what this meant. We began slowly at first, our feet shuffling to the sound of the coach's whistle in army like cadence. Beep...beep...beep...beep. Then came the music. Two hundred Ugandan girls began to sing out in versed cadence , again similar to that which one might hear from an army troop. We plodded on and on. The verses kept coming, moon beams continued to reveal our way down the dirt roads, and the girls continued running. In the States, every neighbor would have filed a serious noise ordinance against us, but here, the houses we passed seemed untouched, undisturbed by our cadence. I was surprised at how well they did. We walked/jogged for almost an hour, and most of the girls, I think, hadn't ran probably since football ended months before. The Ugandans just believe they can, or maybe they don't know they can't? All the girls either ran in beat-up sandals or barefoot. On the brick/dirt road, I don't know which one would be more difficult. No complaints though. No complaints about the road, the shoes, the time, nothing. How could I complain then either? I simply thanked God for the opportunity to experience a sight and sound that is so hidden, yet so beautiful. They even mentioned me in one of the songs, "kobi Paris, Paris, willi abolo, kobi Paris, Paris, willi abolo." (Mr. Paris, Mr. Paris, we're telling you to buy us some bananas!) Thank you God.

2.5

Okay, one more quick story:

One of the new aspects for me here is budgeting money. Let's just say, the first month I wasn't exactly "financially responsible" and found myself a little tight. Well, I had only a couple shillings, and had to make a game time decision about food for 2-3 weeks. I was in one of the cities, and happened to see some Arabian cereal. Well, I had to make a decision. Cereal, which may last...I don't know. Or rice, which would definitely last me 2 weeks.

Let's just say 2 days later my cereal was gone and I was thinking back to that rice I could have gotten.

Live and learn.
(I wrote another new post about my first day of school that is below this one, just thought I'd supplement a little)

2.4 (maybe)

My first day of teaching-

I didn't know what to expect. Out of 40 girls in my bio class (which is a really a low number considering the national average is, I think, 65, and I have seen a class of 120 students with one teacher), 10 were there. the rest, I think, are probably working the fields, helping their families find money to go to school. The Ugandan Ministry of Education hasn't payed the government teachers in 2 months. There is a lot of financial tension. I think there have been talks of protest. Still though, some of the students were there. They were dressed in the maroon and white school uniform which they'll wear each day. Their heads, all shaved. School policy. When I asked a question, they spoke softly, if at all. I don't think this is uncharacteristic for Ugandan women. Heads down, no eye contact, soft spoken. Is it right then that I ask them to look up and speak loudly, boldly? I think a fifth of my words are lost in my English accent. They giggle in groups. Is this a trait common to all girls? I don't know. When I step into the classroom, they're studying. If I was to dismiss class early, they would continue studying. What manner is this? I almost don't like it. I want to yell, "Go outside girls, go play and get into trouble." But that wouldn't help. It wouldn't help them get into the universities. So much emphasis is placed on their final exams. They have to do well or the university will pass them by. Is that all there is to hope for? University? Is that the sole reason we're studying? Isn't it hypocritical for me to chastise this way? Don't I greatly value the degree I have? So they study. They study in the morning, afternoon, and by the few electric bulbs which illuminate the classes at night. When the power isn't there, they study by lantern. These girls' work so hard. We were setting up a net-ball court (similar to handball) and after marking the dimensions, the girls began to dig the outline of the court with hoes. They keep up the compound, they sweep, sometimes I think they're a lot tougher than me. But this is what is expected of them, and I think, every student. Some try to sneak out of the compound at night. I'm secretly cheering for them when they try. But I'll stop them just the same. So soft spoken. So...timid, coy. Why? Is it lack of self-confidence? Is it simply custom and culture? How will they respond to this new, white teacher trying to get them to learn in a different manner than wrote memorization? Perhaps they'll rebel. Perhaps my next 2 years will be a fight to get someone, anyone, to voluntarily answer a question aloud. Bueller...Bueller...anyone...Bueller.

I've actually been teaching now a little over a week. Sometimes I feel like I'm doing a good job. Sometimes I think I stink it up. One of my classes asked me to sing a song for them one day. I did. Next time, Im going to hit them with the classic masterpiece "Regulators" by Mr. Warren G.

I teach two classes of what is 8th grade math, two classes of sophomore level biology, and 2 classes of 8th grade P.E. That's right kids, think of your gym teacher in school...that's me. I'll get a whistle, I'll make the kids do sprints, and heck, I'll probably have a presidential fitness test where if the kids can do 60 sit-ups in a minute they'll get a signed letter from the President! Names such as Mrs. Brooks, Mr. Her, A.C., Ed Morris, Stan Fraze, Ed Fox...the legends of gym class. Get my name ready for the record books!

The kids also asked me to tell them a story one night.
I told them about TP'ing houses and Halloween. I don't know if I'm a good teacher sometimes. In fact, I think sometimes Im a bad teacher.

I'll put my address again in case anyone wants to write. Even if I don't yet know you, I'll write back.

Hunter Paris, PCV
Ikwera Girls' S.S.
P.O. Box 54
Apac, Uganda

Peace up, A-town down
hp