Exam Week (entertainment Provided By MJ)

This past week a fellow volunteer and I decided that we should find the path through the woods between our two sites. We Google earthed the 18-mile path and decided that we would depart at 8 am from our respective sites and meet halfway to exchange a dog that I inherited from another volunteer who COSed. [Long long story, but a dog exchange was the motive behind the hike]. So, I set out on Friday morning with the dog, 2 liters of water, one banana, a multi-tool and my cell phone.  I walked through a few villages before I began to hike through some farms, then up a hill into a rainforest and finally into a forest of pine trees. The path actually turned out to be a dirt road, but when you are walking alone does it really matter? At one point a man was following me with a panga or machete and I got a little freaked out. As it turned out the man was only walking to his farm, but it did not stop me from taking out my multi-tool and picking up a rock. Not sure what I would have done if he had tried to jump me, but I figured those two objects were pretty painful projectiles and they were at my disposal.  After three hours of walking and a lot of talking to myself, I met up with Eric, exchanged the dog and started my walk home. On the way back, I was walking down hill through the rainforest when the fog rolled in and then the rain. Again, I got freaked out, so I decided to run downhill in the rain in Keen sandals. This turned out to be a pretty bad idea because I do not think Keens intended their shoes for running -- without orthotics. I was completely soaked by the time I reached the next village even though I had a rain jacket and banana leaf-- as if I were not strange enough, being white and all, lets just add some mud and water to the mix. The whole trip took about 6 hours and I am pretty sure to attempt it again I will have to be sedated.

*Disclaimer: the above is a classic Carly story, but it did happen, so hopefully you can bear with the fact that it maybe completely irrelevant….’Cool story, Hanzel’.

Exam week being the first week back at school after IST and spring break I can thankfully equate to swimming in the kiddie pool. The students do not have classes here during this week, but instead two exams a day. The exams are given in the normal classrooms and are ‘invigilated’ (proctored) by teachers. Invigilating sounds like a lot of fun, but it is really more like glorified babysitting. To explain what an invigilator does I have come up with the following tasks (in order):

1. Hunt down academic master for the hand-written exam
2. Attempt to decipher the teacher’s hand writing and write the entire exam on the black board

3.      3. Check the room for stashed notebooks and notes

4.      4. Call the students to the classroom and frisk them at the door.

a.     Frisking involves checking their hands and arms for notes and confiscating notebooks and small slips of paper

5.      5. Stand around for an hour or two and hand out paper to students who knock on their desks or snap their fingers at you.

6.      6. Simultaneously you must watch for students who are cheating. (More on this topic later).

7.      7.  Stare down, walk towards and stand next to students who you think are cheating.

8.    8. Tell the students time is up, collect exams, while concurrently checking to make sure students are not doing any last minute cheating.

Something I was warned about during PST, but did not realize until I gave my first test in a Tanzanian school is cheating. The students here, especially Form 1, cheat. Now, I do not want to generalize too much because there are students who never cheat, but there are
definitely more students here who cheat than do in the US.

I think cheating occurs for many reasons here, but mainly because there are no repercussions except for corporal punishment. The Tanzanian education system puts most of its weight on the NECTA exam (I would equate this to the SAT or a huge exam given to seniors in high school to graduate) and very little on other class grades. For example, a student can fail a class; pass the NECTA exam and still move on to the next level. In addition, Tanzanian schools do not keep very detailed student permanent records. The record includes exam and NECTA scores and a small section filled out by a teacher, who may not even know the student, on the student’s character. There is no real attendance or discipline record for the students-- something that is certainly taken into account by colleges and universities in America when deciding whether or not to accept an applicant. I believe this lack of record, or rather lack of importance placed on a permanent record by a-level schools and universities, is one of the main reasons corporal punishment still exists in schools here. If American students err, they have their whole future hanging over their heads, but Tanzanian students are given three strokes and they continue on their marry ways to potentially repeat the same act, they were hit for, down the road.

The first week back was also my week to be TOD (teacher on duty). Before I explain the duties of the TOD I have to explain that although things are (as I feel) done ass backwards here and not taken seriously, the two things that Tanzanian teachers take seriously are paperwork and formalities. The duties of the TOD fall under both of these categories. The first duty of the TOD is to collect all of the attendance books from each form, create the attendance grid and record the number in the daily logbook. The TOD must also include comments on the ‘daily routine and punctuality’, ‘General Cleanliness’, ‘Special Events’, ‘Special Visitors’ and any other comments they wish to add.  The next duty to TOD is to address the student body at the morning assembly and closing assembly with any announcements (this duty is actually kind of fun).  The third duty of the TOD is to grant permission to students who want to leave school early. This is kind of sad because they students have to speak English and most of them just get frustrated, give up and walk away. I usually end up walking them through it even though I know they hate me for it and they would rather just not leave early. The final duty of the TOD, which does not apply to me and never will, is to discipline the students. Overall being TOD is not awful, but it is funny how teachers will be thirty minutes late to class because they are trying to fill in the attendance book. Seriously guys… what is more important: the students’ educations or recording some numbers that no one is going to look at?

This week Mama Jennifer also came lurking around school. Who is Mama Jennifer you may ask? MJ is this bibi (older woman) who lives in the neighborhood behind our school and one with whom alcohol does not agree with. [To preface the story I should tell you all that many of people in my village are farmers, actually almost all are, and they ferment a lot of their corn to make pombe [pom-bay] (local beer), which they drink—often.] Most of the time MJ is a normal Bibi, but when she drinks…well lets just say she could have inspired the song “Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off”. This past Wednesday all of the teachers evacuated the staff room, between exams, when we heard the students laughing and cheering. It turned out that MJ was putting on a show. She took off two of the five kangas she was wearing, was chasing/ throwing rocks at students and falling down. The Head Prefect took it upon himself to whip MJ with a piece of bark. I honestly could not believe what I was seeing. It looked like a three-ring circus and the worst part was either that that I found it sort of funny or that the other teachers did not think twice about it. 

Last, but not least, a little cultural issue. This past weekend I went into town to purchase a plastic table for my house because I am sick of living, working and eating at my coffee table. After purchasing the table, I lifted it on top of my head (a very efficient way to carry large things, I must say) and headed for the bus stand, something I was dreading. The bus stand is usually swarming with men who stand around all day and try to coax you on to a bus going probably in the opposite direction of you intended destination. These men are pretty annoying, especially when they try to grab your arm and drag you with them because you are white and they assume you do not know where the hell you are going. Now, throw a woman with a table on her head into the mix. In short, four to six conductors swarmed me, all trying to take the table off of my head and carry it off to their bus. At this point I was so hot and pissed off, that I made enough of a stink in Swahili to draw the attention of a police officer, which brought the ruckus to a lull and I was able to board the bus.  I often find myself in high-pressure situations here and this weekend was no exception. At one point a conductor was pointing his finger in my face, screaming at me, while trying to take my table from me. If my PC experience has taught me one thing, it is to not fly off the handle when I want to scream or run away. I do not think that these men know that, from a cultural perspective, Americans would find their actions very rude and violating. I honesty wonder how they view their own actions? I am currently on a cultural mission to find out, but I can imagine that most Tanzanians are annoyed by rude conductors, but used to them.

I hope everyone is enjoying the warmer weather, Easter eggs and chocolate bunnies! (Thanks again Aunt Leanne for the card! …but now I just want to eat chocolate).

Happy Birthday, Mom and Jordan!!!!  Love you and miss you!

All my love from TZ!