Yesterday, as we were running we came up on a group of P7 students from the local primary school. A few weeks ago, I had asked the neighbor if I could go to the school to observe. She teaches there, so she said she would discuss it with the head mistress and let me know. Thanks to her help, the next Friday I woke up early and made the walk to school. I was under the impression that I was going to simply observe for a couple hours because I had made it very clear that I didn’t want to teach that day.
As I got to the school, I was ushered into the P7 (similar to our 7th grade) classroom. The teacher greeted himself and asked me to find an empty seat. I walked past the questioning stares and found an empty seat near the back. Before I knew it, a student had handed me a notebook and a writing utensil. The teacher looked at me and said, “You will have to turn around to see the book and follow along.” Unsure of what was going on, I did as I was told and huddled with a few other students around the geometry book to follow along. After a few minutes of verbal instruction, we worked through examples as a class. At first, I didn’t write anything down, but the girl sitting next to me softly whispered that I should get to work. It was at this point in time that I began to question what was going on. After about an hour of instruction, the teacher gave us some work to do independently and left. I thought, are they expecting to actually do this? When I set my pen down and closed my notebook, the looks I received told me the answer. Yes, I was expected to do the work. Much to my dismay, I opened up my notebook and copied down the problems. Math isn’t my strongest suit, and I made a couple mistakes on my paper. I scribbled them out and when the boy sitting behind me saw that I had “messy work”, he laughed at me. After two hours of math, I’d had enough and decided to leave. Yesterday, on my run, I discovered the answer. As Justus and I ran by the group of young students, they began pointing and shouting in Runyankore. “What are they saying?” I asked Justus excitedly. He responded, “They are saying, ‘Look it is our classmate!’” In a simple attempt to observe some teaching, I was mistaken for a seventh grader. Nothing like getting an insider’s view on education. Next time, I will have to clarify that not only do I not want to teach the class, but I do not want to be in the class either!
After my all-too-real flashback to middle school, I’ve decided to fully embrace my role as the sixth grade educator of Dara. I feel much more comfortable in the role of teacher than student in that environment. Plus, who wants to relive middle school? One time through was enough for me. Homeschooling has already stretched me as an educator more than I would’ve thought possible. Planning lessons for multiple subjects and of all different content areas has challenged me to be more creative. Not to mention, my knowledge has been increasing due to the amount learning I do alongside Dara. Many things I’m being called to teach, I haven’t been taught since sixth grade! Because I am an English-Language Arts teacher at heart, the poor girl has to read and write continuously. There seems to always be a way to incorporate writing, no matter what the content area, and it gives me great pleasure to tie it in! I just don’t believe there is such a thing as too much writing. Sorry Dara!
In addition to the joys of teaching, I am continually being challenged in my goal to be a life-long learner in other areas as well. Especially, when it comes to language learning. Despite the many frustrations that come with trying to pick up a new tongue, the times spent with our language teacher and friend, Sophie are irreplaceable. Last week, she bestowed me and Carolyn with the great honors of Runyankore names. So, in Uganda, I am now called Ankunda Kelsea. As Sophie sat down to tell me my name, the mood grew serious. She revealed that my name would be Ankunda and explained that it means ‘He loves me.’ Sophie said, “Let me ask you, can you live without blood in your body?” As I sat silently, she said, “No, and love is like blood. You can’t live without it in your body.” The moment was possibly one of my favorite memories thus far and a good reminder about the importance of our calling to love one another.
“And this is his command: to believe in the name of his Son, Jesus Christ, and to love one another as he commanded us.” 1 John 3:23
If to love one another is one of the greatest commandments given, it must be important. It must mean something to love and to be loved. And, if it’s our command to love, then why do we struggle to show it? If we have the capacity to love others, and it can have influence in their lives, I pray that we take this commandment seriously.
“Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God.” 1 John 4:7
I think Sophie was right. You can’t live without love.
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