Backwards Design Part 2

Or, Ugandan Education (un)-Explained

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

On Monday night after Frisbee, we ran into James (one of Eric’s Ugandan partner teachers) at a local store (use the term loosely, it’s a tiny room behind metal bars with a few boxes of sodas and a thatched-roof porch with a few plastic tables). Eric bought us all cokes and we sat down and talked for a while. Turns out James wasn’t at school on Monday because he hasn’t received a paycheck from the government in 8 months. Frankly, I wouldn’t go to school if I wasn’t being paid, either. He told us he spent hours in line at a government building in Gulu, and that he filled out a bunch of paperwork, but that nothing was immediately resolved. Unbelievable.

On Tuesday morning, we woke up to no electricity and dressed by headlamp. Breakfast was crackers, peanut butter, and mazuka, a less sweet donut thing that - dipped in tea - is amazing. We headed to school at 7:25, placing bets on what time the assembly scheduled for 7:30 would actually begin. At 7:50, the head girl called the students standing in front of the staff room to attention; in their green and white school uniforms, finishing what looks like porridge from their plastic cups, they quieted down and waited for her to speak. After they sang the school song and national anthem, and said the morning prayer, we were introduced to the group. We introduced ourselves one at a time and when we said what classes we would be working with, a cheer came up from that group of students – the older students whom we will not teach were genuinely bummed out to not have an American teacher in their classrooms. Morgan was asked to speak for the group, and she expressed our excitement to be here, and told all students, even those who may not see us inside the classroom, to speak to us outside the classroom. This was met with enthusiasm by the older levels of students!

When assembly finished, the students went off to class and I went to the staff room to wait for Sophie. She was supposed to have a class from 8-12:30 and I was meant to spend this week observing her. She didn’t show up until lunchtime, apparently having just arrived from Gulu where her 3 year-old daughter Mary had fallen ill with malaria.

Sophie lives during the week in Anaka, but goes to Gulu on the weekends to be with her family. Her husband is a teacher as well, and keeps Mary during the weeks because there is more family support in Gulu than there is in Anaka. Teachers are government workers, and when you graduate from Teacher Training College, you are randomly assigned a teaching position in a Ugandan school with a vacancy. There are no preference lists for location, regardless of your family situation or hometown. If you want to apply for a transfer to a different school, you can do so after two years of service but without any guarantee. Sophie’s husband actually taught at a school closer to Anaka, but was displaced into Gulu along with our school when the LRA activity in the north was in full force. Sophie’s husband’s school will relocate to its original location from Gulu in January of 2010, but until then, they will live apart and she will travel on weekends to visit her daughter.

This raises some serious questions within the educational system.
Frankly, if I had to choose between my ill child and my job, I’d without a doubt be at home watching Sesame Street and making vegetable soup. But what about the hundreds of students sitting in your classroom depending on you for their educations? (Uganda does not have substitute teachers.) What about your responsibility to your job and your colleagues? What kind of example are you setting for your students? What changes need to happen for teachers to be better-equipped and able to do their jobs? And where does my being here fall into the equation?

We had dinner with Father Leoncio at the parish on Tuesday night. During the meal, he was talking about the role that his parish plays in the community: “We’re not trying to convert anyone here. It doesn’t matter our religion – Catholic, Christian, Jewish, Muslim – we are all humans and we all want peace.”

I think our role as international teachers in Uganda, and in Anaka, is similar. We are not trying to convert Ugandan teachers and schools to the American system. However, as Father Leon’s church strives for peace, I think that both Ugandan and American teachers are striving for a similar goal – a quality education for the students. And that’s something I’m pretty willing to keep working towards – the struggle is going to be figuring out a compromise that will get us to that desired result.