A Blackboard Under the Mango Tree

About a month ago Mama Kiri and I were lounging in the gentle light of my solar lamp when she informed me, "Maurice came over again today for an English lesson but you weren't here to see him. Maybe he'll try again tomorrow." Maurice is a young cousin who I had met briefly twice. He seemed a little guarded towards me, but I could tell he had a goofy, class-clown personality behind that aloof visage. I had not previously spoken with anybody about giving him English lessons, or at least not that I'm aware of... though I'm sure I have a lot of conversations that I'm not fully tuned into. Nonetheless, the plan had been drafted and conveyed to him, and I was pretty enthusiastic about the prospect of giving private lessons to counter the stress of managing 40 students at a time.

 A few days later I was heading to the shower when I saw a familiar young face. I greeted Maurice and, noticing his eager and kind of nervous expression, I said, "you are here for...?" He replied, "anglais." Well let's get started, I figured! I had just heard a rumor of a blackboard that was hidden somewhere on the compound. I remembered playing school back in the day with a sturdy, mini board that stood on its own. I thought how much fun it would be to relive those pleasant moments with a young student in the comfort of our compound. I asked Béné, who was hovering to the side, if we could take it out, so she and Maurice ventured into our storage shed to retrieve it. I went into my room next door to prepare some materials, and I could hear the sounds of shuffling, scratching, dragging, tumbling, etc. I wandered in to find them unearthing this behemoth of a blackboard from behind piles of lumber and tools.

They managed to haul it outside and I directed us to a shaded area underneath our mango tree. The board was covered with Algebra problems from its last use, so there was a wonderfully energetic to-do about how to clean it. A variety of methods were used, and it took about half of our allotted 45 minutes to wipe it down to everyone's satisfaction, but honestly I was as enraptured as either of them. I mean, is there really anything more gratifying then giving a cluttered, dusty blackboard a good wash-down? I think not.

Finally, with moments to go before my next obligation, it was time to begin the lesson. Maurice pulled up a chair while Béné took up her hovering again. I prompted her to join us, because of course she wanted to join. Also, I just wanted her there because Béné is wonderful and makes my time here twice as lovely. She and I have been teaching each other things from the first days. We've spent hours each week pouring over French textbooks, English picture books, song lyrics, math problems, ukulele chords, you name it. She loves to learn, she loves to teach, and I love to spend time with her. So, already, our little group had grown.

 That day I taught them the very basics: "I am, you are, he/she is," etc. When I left them, they were dutifully copying into their official English notebooks. I couldn't help but feel endeared towards them and snap some pictures as they worked diligently under the hanging laundry. I knew right away that this was going to be one of my favorite tasks for the year.

 The next lesson, we were four. Another niece of Mama Kiri's, Chance, had joined us as well. She is an enthusiastic and focused learner who had just taken a semester at CENTRAM English school. Between the four of us, we determined to have three lessons a week, beginning in the mid-afternoon, and usually lasting until the light begins to fade. Almost every day we have a guest student or two. Maybe more cousins, or someone sent to look after the house. Today was a young man about my age who seems to only speak Ngumbaye, but he requested that I read everything on the board for him to repeat, and then copy it down on a sheet of paper.

 The students clamor for homework and are disappointed when I forget to begin each lesson by grading their work with a red pen. They love activities like charades, and it's a blast for me as their teacher to be flexible, to enjoy laughing with them and answering random individual questions, which is not usually possible with my other larger classes. I get a kick out of their enthusiasm, and even their sometimes unkind competitiveness. They laugh together when a word like "thirteen" is impossible to pronounce well, and they will happily knock each other over in the effort to correct another person's spelling on the board. The goal is to learn English, and I can detect no degree of self-consciousness among the three cousins. I love that whenever I decide to end our lesson and retreat to my room, if I look out my window I can count on seeing them sitting there together until dark, copying the homework assignments and practicing their new knowledge.

 At night, when there is no electricity and there is little to do but lay on the carpet and sleep or chat, Béné and I will practice. I specifically teach the kids words that I know I can practice with her. "Béné... are you sleeping?" "No, I am not!" "Béné, is Patrick a dog?" "Yes, he is!" "Béné, what are you doing??" "I am cleaning!" It's gratifying and comforting to hear these fragile English words come out of her mouth. Also, it highlights the wonderful nature of this assignment which is that at every moment I am both teacher and student. Between my time at work, at home, and in other formal and informal settings, roles are constantly being reversed and rewritten as children become my teachers, cousins become my students, students become my guides, supervisors ask me to teach them, and so on. I know I am here to teach, but I feel like it is only right to do so in exchange for all that others are teaching me. My life right now is just a huge stew of ideas and language that everybody wants to taste. It's pretty wonderful to be mixed up in.