A Model Classroom

March, 2016

So, I wear a lot of hats in my tiny town. And by hats, I mean metaphorical hats, or roles. For example, I am a neighbor, a daughter, a sister, a cultural diplomat, a learner, and observer, a friend, a customer, a teacher, a potato peeler, a facilitator, etc…

This blog is about my teacher hat. I teach English to two sections of grade 9 students. In total, I have about 100 students between the two classes. In addition, I have two grade 9 clubs, a grade 10 club, teacher trainings, student tutorials, an elementary school club, and I also work with a special abilities class. Naturally, having my own space would immensely help with carrying out my tasks.

Plans don’t necessarily go from A to B here. So after many other letters of the alphabet, I finally received a model classroom! The classroom granted to me was quite shabby. The few desks present were falling apart. Dust carpeted the cement floor. Spider webs were in surplus. Not to mention, the blackboards were pretty run-down. I rallied up some of my students and we immediately got to work.

Students scaled the walls in order to clean up cobwebs from the ceiling and walls.  We scrubbed down desks with water and bleach and transported them to and from other classrooms. Chalkboards, windows, doors and walls were cleaned up and made more presentable. Finally, we added some flare and color to make the classroom even more beautiful. After about 3 days of work, we were finally finished! We had our very own classroom to utilize.

Before...

After!

Having the students help with the set-up created a sense of pride for the classroom. They contributed to our new space and thus, respect and appreciate it. Not only is the classroom used for the things listed above, but I also try to spend as much time in the class as possible. I use the class for my own “office hours.” When I have work to do, I leave the door open so students can freely come and go as they please. The classroom is an excellent way to strike students’ curiosity and open the door (literally and figuratively) for them to practice English. Most students are very hesitant to practice their spoken English, but the classroom creates a laid back setting for them to do so. I have also prepared mini activities for students to practice their English. I printed out culturally appropriate photos and students who come in to chat, work together to describe the photos and learn some new nouns and verbs. I also have children’s books that are at about their reading level. They love to practice!

HIV/AIDS Corner

My walls have various different teaching aids such as adjectives, adverbs, and activities from clubs. Students come in and ask questions and practice their knowledge. Additionally, I have an HIV/AIDS corner. There is a cultural stigma in my town associated with talking about sex or condom usage, so, in an attempt to reduce the stigma, I have different visuals depicting how HIV is transmitted and how to properly use a condom. Students see this every day and have become more and more comfortable with talking to me about it. They ask me questions and clarifications about HIV transmission and condom usage. Opening this conversation is awesome! Some students even sit down and take notes on the things they see on the walls. There is also a wall dedicated to exemplary work from my students. They feel proud to see their work displayed for all to see. It also encourages them to keep up the good work! Simple motivators such as this are not existent in the typical classroom setting.

The amount of visitors I get on a daily basis is really amazing. It is a constant reminder of the dedication and motivation of the students at my school. Ironically, they are the ones who teach me so much! This classroom has provided the students with unique, informal ways to practice English outside of the often intimidating classroom setting. I am so grateful to have this space and I look forward to the opportunities it can present in the future. 

-Teacher Marianna

Great work!

Adjective Wall

Grade 9 club practicing their reading skills

Primary School Club matching sentences

Coloring with my students with special abilities!

                                   

                                        Some of my students and I

The Banana Man

The Banana Man 3.28.16

“So you kind of walk straight along this road for a while and look for a tiny sign about bananas. Then you turn left and walk down a dirt road for 15 minutes. It’s a small house on the right. You’ll knock, and when it feels like he’s not going to answer, he’ll show up.”

Without Google maps or street signs or streets, my sense of direction has gotten pretty phenomenal. These are the directions I received in order to find an ambiguous banana art museum. The name alone was enough to spike my interest.

The museum is in a city about 4 hours south of my town, Shashamene- uniquely home to a large Rastafari community. (Bus rides under 8 hours are considered excellent in my book. Bonus if I can get a window open without someone immediately shutting it.) I was only about 54% confident with where I was going, but my friends and I were determined to find the banana art.

Two bajaj rides, 0 liters of water, 3 misleading escorts, and a 45 minute walk later, we came across a tin fence on the right of a dirt road with a shabby sign indicating we have arrived. I knocked, waited a while, and, finally, the door screeched opened. A man with long grey dreadlocks answered with an ambivalent look on his face.

Me: Hi.

Banana Man: Hi, how can I help you?

Me: Um, we want to see the museum?

Banana Man: (*Looks up at the sign above his head entitled “Banana Art Museum-Always Open” and then looks back at us) I am the Banana Man. Come in.

We enter the front yard filled with different gardens, plants, and, of course, banana trees. The Banana Man is a one of a kind artist who makes his art strictly using material from banana trees. The leaves, bark and flowers of the banana tree add life to his art. His process is very methodical as he carefully chooses precise textures, tones to create his work. He beautifully captures different aspects of Ethiopian culture with a unique medium. The gallery was astounding! His personality as well as his art was all a part of the experience. He has a captivating way of telling stories that allowed him to express both his genuineness and his wonderfully dry humor. He told us he is made from love and fire and things like stress are not allowed in his home. He claimed to be 65, but didn’t look a day over 40. That’s probably why.  As we were wrapping up our visit, he insisted to sign one of our cards, saying it may be worth millions one day. How could I say no? In mine he wrote:

“To a queen- I am carrying my name on your heart instead on a tombstone.”

He escorted us out, and we shared mutual appreciation for each other. Before I reached to open the door, he immediately stopped me. He then pulled a television remote control out of his pocket, pointed it at the door, pushed some buttons, made some beeping sounds, and opened the door for us.

Thanks for sharing your passion and peace with us, Banana Man. 

Sounds

Sounds

Dawn in my town of Ali, Ethiopia

12:00a.m.-3:00a.m. - The stray dogs have their daily business meeting. I’m not quite sure what they are barking about, but it sure is opinionated.

4:00a.m.-6:00a.m. - The echoing of the churches and mosques begins. All 5 mosques and 2 churches have their very own loud speakers for all to hear.

6:00a.m.-7:00a.m. - Commence the bird songs! No power? No Alarm? No problem. Bird songs are usually coupled with the slightly less pleasant donkey screeches.

7:30a.m. - Metronomic, hollow thud of fresh coffee being pounded with a wooden mortal and pistol. If this blog weren’t about sounds, I would tell you about the aromatic smells of perfectly roasted coffee beans that dance into my room.

8:00a.m. -School alarm (and by alarm, I mean metal cylinder on a tree branch being hit with a metal stick) clinging.

8:00a.m. à- Teacher! Teacher! Barsistuu! As I walk into school like a cheesy celebrity, I am greeted left and right by my students. They like to summon me in order to practice their English. Please, please, no autographs. 

After 12p.m. - The determined pitter patter of a stampede of children released from elementary school quakes the pebbles near my feet. If I’m out, they try to catch up for a well-earned fist pound and a chance to practice their “HOWAREYOU.MYNAMEIS…” monologue.

3:00p.m. - Chiff! Chiff! Horse carts, cattle, goats, you name it. This is the sound you use to get them in line.

Dusk in my town

5:00p.m. - The skin on my face peels back from the blasting Ethiopian music coming from different shops. I’m now partial to it. Their knobs go to 11.

6:00p.m.à: Mayanna! Mayanna! Pees! Cuba! (This translates into, “Marianna, please give me the ball.”) My compound siblings dash towards me and koala embrace my legs like a eucalyptus tree. We play until the only light that’s left is from the smoldering embers of charcoal fires and a dense sneeze of stars splattered in the sky. 

"Mayanna, Cuba!"

My compound family