Science Class, For the Insane

Making English class fun is fairly easy. Word games, fun writing assignments, and silly stories are easy enough to find.

Science class is the death of me. Right now we are doing animal classification and characteristics. Of course, if you have access to empty bird eggs, butterflies, and whale baleen, your life in golden. Science class is fun and exciting.

Oh, boy! Whale baleen!

For me, though, trying to make science fun without all that show-and-tell business is usually a flop. I am by no means a qualified science teacher. The other day I brought in a dead bug the size of my palm to science class to try and explain the thorax and abdomen of an insect. Or I attempted to.

And by that I mean that I found it lying on my bed that morning (nicely cuddled up next to me), picked that sucker up with my bare hands, put it in my teaching bag, and toted it to school. By period 4, the horribly disgusting bug no longer had a thorax and abdomen.

Bug dust. I guess haphazardly wrapping gigantor in a tissue was not a legitimate mode of transport.

I instead drew an insect on the chalkboard. It looked like a snowman that grew wings and fell over. Chalkboard is not my medium of choice.

I then orally presented the characteristics of insects to the class, which resulted in 25 minutes explaining why a turtle is not a bug. And also why a butterfly is not a bird.

It could have gone more smoothly.

After we finish animal classification, we are moving on to sex ed.

With my 15 to 21 year-olds.

I love science class.

Music To My Ears

I’m a total sucker for pump-up songs. It’s so ridiculous.

Usually, my music taste is pretty legitimate. As in Nickelback never entered into my top 100. Sorry, Nickelback fans.

But give me a song with lyrics that make me want do something idiotic, and I am ALL over that. 

Workout song? Remember the Name - Fort Minor. You try NOT running the extra mile with that one. Oxygen deprivation is for losers.

And when I’m wigging out about something? Don’t You Worry Child - Swedish House Mafia. That song snaps you right outta that funk and gets you ready to like…conquer the world without even putting pants on.

Typical wake-up song? Cobrastyle - Teddybears. My style is the bomb-da-da-bomb-da-dang-di-dang-diggy-diggy.

Going out song? Anything that says words like “shake yo booty” a lot.

I was joshing you on the last one. Kind of.

And now I’ve been listening to Hall of Fame by The Script pretty much every morning before school. Not for the sole and marginally embarrassing reason that I feel as though I will be entering the Hall of Fame of Badassness fairly soon (Come on. Let’s be honest.), but because at 6:00 in the morning, when instant coffee isn’t doing it for me, dancing around my little dark, muggy house to the words “you could be a champion” being sung at me over and over again really gets me in the teaching mood. Yeah, buddy. I’m about to mold some little babies’ minds.

I know. I’m out of control.

Except most of my “little babies” are like 15 to 21 years old. So, the mind molding doesn’t usually go as well as intended.

I am shorter than the majority of my students. And we already know that they can run faster than me. Also, they have the ability to talk about me, right in front of my face, without me knowing (for those of you that are confused, it’s because they are speaking a foreign language). It’s a handy skill for them. So, what does this mean? I have developed the teacher stare extra quickly. Those of you who knew me in college can probably guess that this face isn’t much of a stretch for me.

What does the teacher stare have to do with pump-up songs? Absolutely nothing, but I’m not very good with coherent thought progression at 6:45 in the morning.

And yes, I am listening to Hall of Fame right now. For the 19^th time this year. And it’s electrifying.

Athletics

This week at Orotjitombo PS is the inter-house athletic competition. I’m not sure what that entails exactly, but it requires that the learners and teachers train after school everyday. Basically that means everyone runs around willy nilly in the sand until someone can think of a more organized exercise to do.

Training kicked my butt. Not because I am that out of shape, (although, you know, let’s not go there) but because I made the mistake of participating in the beginning.

“Yay, fun, running! I’m a fun teacher! Let’s all get involved!”

You bet your bottom I got people involved. So well in fact that it resulted in what felt like EVERY LEARNER wanting to race me across the field. And I did. Because I’m a pushover. And let me tell you something. Their little gangly legs beat me 75% of the time. And then 100% of the time after the 10^th go. And afterwards I looked like Pigpen.

I did, however, succeed in doing 10 times more pushups than anyone else, including the 18 year old boys. It provides a little comfort.

Anyway, to change tunes, this weekend I’m going back to Epupa Falls (which is gorgeous. Look on my facebook profile for photos.) with some of the other volunteers that are living in the Oshikati area. Not like “the Oshikati area” means anything to those of you back home, but I think you’ll survive if I don’t show you a map.

Needless to say, I’m so unbelievably excited to go swimming. I have never loved water so much in my life. Except for the water at school. Bad water. Or naughty water, as they would say here. I have been physically ill many a time because of that business.

But pools, pools I can do. 

I Can Bucket Shower, And So Can You.

Because I was told by a crazy Brit that my last blog post was very angsty, I figured I’d take it back down to earth.

And what better way to bring it down to earth than talking about my cleanliness? Remember, it’s next to godliness. 

Welcome to A Lesson in Bucket Showering 101

Allow me to educate you on my delicate and refined technique.

First locate your bucket. If it is pink and plastic and will probably break by April, even better. You have it? Congratulations.

After filling up your bucket at the tap outside, bring it in the house and get into your skivvies. Contemplate your first move. Realize that you have no moves. Shove your head in the bucket upside-down and shake it around in the water like you are Willow Smith. Shampoo up. Look around for a vessel to more effectively rinse the shampoo from your matted head. While you are naked and shampoo-y, stand in your kitchen and quickly eat an entire container of canned peaches (because your only Tupperware is being used) so that you can use the empty can to dump water on your hair. Use your brilliant peach can idea to pour water over the rest of your body. Feel awesomely resourceful and full of peaches. Soap. Rinse. Attempt to clean your feet if you must, but know it’s not worth it. Dry yourself off, and give yourself a pat on the back. You will be marginally clean for the next 10 minutes.

It’s really a precise art.

Consequently, it’s a good thing I don’t have roommates. 

Let's Get Philosophical

Today, I have been in Namibia for one month. It doesn’t feel like that long. But when I think back to the day in December that I was eating dinner with my family in New York City, right before they dropped me off at the airport hotel, it seems like a decade ago.

Time doesn’t really make sense to me right now. It never does when I travel. Sometimes 20 minutes of sitting, being bored, and attempting to not binge eat all of my week’s food rations feels like 20 days. And apparently 20 days can simultaneously go scooting by while I attempt to do something more productive than gaping at my surrounds in awe.

I have been told that my goal is to first function in my new life, and then to start working on community and school development and whatever else needs assistance. This, for me, is exceedingly annoying. 

I'm not always patient with myself. 

It’s only been two weeks of teaching. And contrary to popular belief, this is a job. Not a year-long vacation. It will be difficult. I understand that. But two weeks of a new job at home, and you start to get into the swing of things. I like that. Not to toot my own horn, but I’m a fast learner. I’m a willing worker. Two weeks here at my school, however, and all I have gleaned from my experiences thus far is that I have no clue how to operate as a teacher, a co-worker, a housekeeper, a cook, or a friend in this country. One step forward, 15 bazillion steps back. 

Every class I realize how much work has to be done before I have to set my little learners free so they can take, and hopefully pass, their cumulative exams.  And every hour I discover something else that I am totally in the dark about. I’ve collected quite a stash of questions. Not so many answers, however.

How do I write a Scheme of Work? And a year plan? This yogurt has been sitting in the sun for 4 hours…is it ok to eat? Does this shirt smell? How do I show humor without being sarcastic or snarky? How do I clean my house without cleaning supplies? How do I burn garbage? What is the schedule for school? No, seriously, WHAT IS THE SCHEDULE?  What are these worms that keep leaving cocoons on my bed? Will I meet everyone’s expectations? Will I meet my own? Is there tape anywhere in this school? Scissors? Why do the learners keep saying “miss” for no apparent reason? How do I handle seeing corporal punishment in my school? Is this guy just being nice or is he hitting on me? Should I run away? Will I ever like canned meat? How can I ask this person to repeat herself for the 5^th time without making her want to send me back to the US? What? Huh? Are you serious?

But I always have the answer to two questions, and for now, maybe these are the only questions that matter.

Am I OK?

Yes.

Do I want to be here?

Every day.

So, that’s enough fo' me.