School Daze

I decided I’d offer my services to the school while I’m waiting to get my other formal ministry ideas in order.
I think this is going to be a much harder time-filler than I ever imagined.
The school is so unorganized. They have no books. The kids don’t have pencils and notebooks. They have no teachers. There is no standardized testing—they pull from the Kenyan and Ugandan curriculums, if they pull from any curriculum at all. The schoolmaster is always drunk. Today he was tending his cows, not at school. This is a regular occurrence. They don’t have a timetable for classes yet. They’ve been “in session” for nearly two months. We had to pull teeth to see what they needed, had to kick and scream to try to get books to teach from… and eventually just showed up this morning, saw that there were kids in the different classrooms and jumped in and tried to teach. I picked P6 English. Today we tried to establish rules and talked about what respect was. The kids just stared blankly at me. No response. Nothing. Even when I spoke Lopit. It’s going to be a hard go of things!
After I dismissed my class (rather awkwardly), I walked over to the other school buildings. They’re actually not much like buildings. They used to be just shelled out brick things, then some DIGUNA guys came and put tin roofs on. Then the UN came while we were gone and detonated an old bomb that’s been sitting there… forever… and the whole place shook like there was an earthquake and some of the tin roofing came loose. Whoops. They’re coming to detonate another one soon, I hear. Can’t wait for that!
Inside it’s just piles of rocks and old split boards to sit on. No desks. It’s OK, though… no notebooks anyway.
(I’m not trying to whine, just trying to convey the sad reality. This is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I have to work hard not to go crazy in the face of Sudanese school.)
The buildings are teeming with children, sort of like an ant farm.
I walk into the first room. Filled with young children. (Many of them preschool age.)
“Tau Teacher nohoi?” (“Where is your teacher?)
“Obe nobo.” (There is none.)
The next. More children.
“Tau Teacher nohoi?”
“Obe nobo.”
And the last. Even more children.
“Tau Teacher nohoi?”
“Obe nobo.”
At least I established that there was a need for teachers. And a preschool teacher, at that.
And after that terrible experience came a wonderful one.
Kimmie and I walked back to the church compound and happened upon Pastor G, who had just told Kim about an old building he’d be willing to let me use for the preschool, if I get it going. Kim thought it was this sorry looking thing—a small shack with two green doors and a tilted foundation. But we asked Pastor G again and he pointed up the path to another building.
It was amazing!
It’s just a one-room, little thing but there are windows! And a door! And a big yard with a great big shade tree. It would be perfect! I was so excited. I scampered around and Kim and I imagined all the wonderful things we could do with the place. Pastor G is already talking about building a bamboo fence for it. Then I could clean it up. Paint it. Have Daniel build a few play things for the kids… Oh, joy.
It saved my day, got me excited. I saw the need, then I was able to see how the church was willing to help me meet it. Now all I need is a plan, some ideas and some Lopit people to come alongside me and take the vision for themselves.
I’m looking for contacts here in Africa of programs who have done the preschool thing. I hear there is even a book floating around that talks all about how to establish one—from how to set it up to the theory and concepts behind what you need to teach. The one bad things about living out here is that it’s nearly impossible to network properly, with limited electricity, no access to the internet and only a few outside emails. But still! I emailed my friend Whitney from the U of I and she put together a great thing to help me get started. (If you can help, please email me!!!! aclinard@gmail.com)
I can’t wait to see how God is going to work things out. Keep praying!