When you’re up, you’re really up. But when you’re down…

Thus far, Week #2 of School has done a great job of further reinforcing the idea that service in the Peace Corps is like riding an emotional rollercoaster:  When you’re up, you’re really up; but when you’re down, you give new meaning to the term. 

 

The past two days sucked.  Then they got worse.  Then they got a little better, and then I showered in the rain and it was awesome.  But then the rain stopped and I was reminded that I still had to lesson plan and teach tomorrow so they started sucking again. But let me explain…

Yesterday, one of the head-honchos at my school decided that he wanted to redo the schedules for every teacher and class.  Why?  I don’t know.  And I don’t think he did either.  Maybe he did.  I don’t know. Thing is, I had already spent four lunch-less days during the week right before classes began designing the original schedule by myself using a nifty little computer program and some information he had given me.  Everything was good and everybody seemed content with the finished product, but for some reason, things needed to be changed.  Such is life here in Mozambique.

I finished up my final class for the day around 1130am, and feeling hungry, anxious and sleep-deprived, I was eager to get home, eat and start lesson planning for the two double periods I had the next day so that I could try and get to bed a little earlier.  Nope.  Somebody had other plans for me, and rather than those plans featuring a delicious home-made lunch, I was served a nice hearty portion of raw stress. I was told to wait at school for the guy to arrive, who would then give me some instructions on what to do.  So I waited.  And waited.  And then waited some more.  Finally, after an hour and a half, I decided to start walking home.  Wouldn’t you know it, but right as I turned the corner of the school complex and had my house in site, the man I had been waiting for pulled up in his car right in front of me and whisked me back to school.  I spent the next three and a half hours hunched over a computer redo-ing all the work I had previously done two weeks before.  At least this time was a little bit easier since I was more familiar with the program and able to use my old model as a template.  I finally finished in the late afternoon and immediately went home to violently devour the first edible items I could find and begin lesson planning for the next day. 

Because it’s been a while since I’ve browsed a Physics textbook, it usually takes me an equally elongated amount of time to write up a plan.  The reason for this is because I have to re-teach myself the material prior to putting anything on paper.  Problem is, my primary resource is a Portuguese textbook.  Luckily, I’ve got a little internet access every so often, so I can put google translate to use as needed.

I worked late into the night, and finally finished somewhere between midnight and one-in-the-morning.  Then I showered and went to bed, and woke up five hours later because it is impossible to sleep past 6:30.  After eating some breakfast and doing a quick once-over of the lesson plan on Uniform Rectilinear Movement that I had written in a zombie state the night before, I ran off to school to start my Wednesday.  It would have been better if I had just stayed home.  

My lesson bombed.  The plan I had worked so hard on was a complete disaster.  The students had no idea what I was talking about, and I soon discovered why.

For starters, I did a crappy job of presenting the material.  That’s on me.  But, I soon discovered that my previous suspicious about my students math skills were way more accurate than I had hoped.  The horrible truth is that the majority of my 11^th and 12^th graders are lacking even the most basic of math skills. I’m supposed to teach them things like Mechanics, Thermodynamics, and Introductions to Atomic and Nuclear Physics, yet some of my students can’t add or subtract.  And an even bigger portion of them can’t comprehend the concept of a negative number. Commence freak out:  Wait…what?! How did this happen?  Holy shit, what am I supposed to do about it?

Well, I did the only thing I could do; I persevered and pressed on.  I spent an hour and a half struggling through the class trying to make on-the-fly alterations to my junky lesson plan all the while trying to stay positive and energetic. 

There’s no question that teaching, albeit an incredible opportunity to shape young hearts and minds, is a tough job.  The task is daunting enough when you have to do it in English, and it’s even harder when you have to teach in a different language. But this feels like I’ve been assigned to climb a mountain on the moon without a space suit or shuttle.  In the words of my sister:  Whomp, whomp.