Mozambican Math Classes

It’s been about a month since school started, and I feel like I am finally getting into the swing of things. When we first got to our new home, we didn’t know anyone, we didn’t have a job to do, and we had a month before school started. That didn’t leave much to do. Most of our time was spent doing all the housework we could find to do. I don’t know if the floors could have been much cleaner, and our laundry was never neglected. We did have a Christmas celebration, which got us traveling, and then our trip to Maputo for the memorial service, but I think the start of the school year really anchored us in our community.

When school started, my classes were hectic. I was used to teaching the way I did at Penn State, which was presenting a huge amount of information during a 50-minute period, and then having them practice said information during a 50-minute lab period. I also didn’t know what level the students were at in their mathematical education. They were in 8^th grade, and in primary school (which goes until grade 7), they were supposed to have learned all about addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division. I figured that spending a week reviewing these basic functions would be enough for the majority of my students, and I could help the other students if they were motivated to come to me for help. I quickly learned that this method would not work. I didn’t realize how some students get passed through primary school with almost no knowledge because their parents know somebody in the school system. One day, I was going over addition, and I had written a basic equation on the board. What is 4 + 2? I asked a girl what the answer was, and she stood up to answer. She looked like a deer in headlights. It was clear that she didn’t know the answer and just wanted me to leave her alone. However, I’m here to teach math, not let students sit in a classroom while I talk for 45 minutes, so I decided to try to work through it with her.

I pointed to the 4 and said, “What number is this?”

At this point, her face lit up. She knew this one, and if she answered it, then maybe, just maybe, I’d leave her alone and she could sit down and ride out the rest of the lesson in relative obscurity.

“Two!” she proudly exclaimed.

At this point, I just shook my head and said, “No, that’s the number four. You can sit down.”

I just couldn’t believe that this girl had gone through grade 7 without knowing what the number four looked like. Perhaps she did know it, but since Portuguese is not her primary language either, she got it wrong. Maybe she was just so nervous to have everyone looking at her that she choked and said the wrong answer. However, looking at the scores from the first test that I gave would suggest otherwise.

I have since changed my teaching methods rather drastically. For the first two weeks of class, I basically wrote a script for the 45-minute sessions that I would have with my classes. I figured that I would present the information, give a few examples, and send them on their way with some homework. My lesson plans were 4 to 5 pages long, and included what I was going to say word-for-word. I gave my tests in the third week of school, and when I graded the test, I found that my very best class of students had an average of about a 57%. Granted, a passing grade here is a 50%, so many of the students were quite pleased with their grades. However, I learned that some kids still didn’t know how to answer 1 + 2. This was one of my first questions on the test, and still about 25% of them got it wrong.

Since then, I have restricted myself to only writing lesson plans that are one page long. I have about 20 minutes of practice time per lecture in which the students work on problems alone or in small groups, with me walking around to give them help when they get stuck. When students get stuck here, they just stop working and sit quietly, so I actually have to walk around and prod them into the right answers. I think this method is working better. Last week, I gave a review assignment, which I let them work together on. I made the assignment a little bit difficult, since they were allowed to talk with each other, and they had 45 minutes to complete 18 problems. While most of them didn’t do extremely well, I was able to see where the majority of the class was getting stuck, so I can go back and review.

I should also mention that while I have been moving very slowly through the material in the past two weeks, I am still about two weeks ahead of the other math classes because I was actually here to give lessons at the school for the first two weeks. Many of the other teachers did not arrive until at least two weeks after the official start of the school year. I asked a neighbor, who is in eighth grade, but not in my math class, what he was learning in math. His reply was, “Umm… I don’t really know. Math is hard.”

While it can seem like most of my students don’t know anything at all when it comes to math, some of them have really impressed me. Given the education that they receive in primary school, some students were totally “getting it” when I was going through 4- and 5-page lesson plans. I’m beginning to know the good students by name, which is great because I can call on them to bail the class out of a lull. Some of them should definitely become math teachers here (that’s pretty much the only math-related job they have in Mozambique, except in some of the bigger cities). I asked one of my students last week what 57 x 3 is. After about 5 seconds of thought, he correctly shouted, “171!” after which he turned to the rest of the class and said “Eu sou matematica!”

That’s right, my friend, you are mathematics.

Christmas

Lisa and I have just returned from our first trip outside of our home in Zobue since we arrived. We left our humble abode at about 7 in the morning on December 22^nd, heading to Catandica, which is where two other volunteers (Mary Zylich and Joanna Farley) live. The trip was fun, but definitely different from the sort of travel that we had become accustomed to in the states. For starters, we don't have a vehicle of our own, so we need to hitch a ride on either a private vehicle or a chapa, which is the cramped-smelly-uncomfortable approximation of public transportation. We decided that we could try to save some money and perhaps ride in a vehicle with seat belts, so we headed to the border with Malawi in order to see if we could catch some early-morning traveling tourists with tons of room in their car. After about an hour of waiting, we had nothing to show for it but a pleasant conversation with a South African woman, who explained that they didn't have enough seats for her family, much less two sweaty Americans with hiking backpacks that easily outweighed several neighborhood children. We admitted defeat and tried to get on the closest chapa and head into Tete City, about two hours away. Unfortunately, our driver thought that the best way to pack the chapa full of people was to circle Zobue, honking and attempting to run down women and children. He seemed surprised when, after half an hour of harassing pedestrians, we decided to get off and look for another ride. In fact, he was so determined to not let us off (we were, after all, two of the precious few people on his chapa), that he refused to stop and let us off until a local man informed him that holding two Americans hostage in a vehicle is not a good way to welcome them to Mozambique. So we were back on the road, two hours after we first got to it, still looking for a ride to a city that is only two hours away. We were still looking at a 5-6 hour ride to Catandica after we got to Tete. Needless to say, we were a little annoyed. So when a local drunk man walked up to us on the street and started making it clear that he was out of his mind, Lisa assertively told him that he needed to get lost. The conversation went a little like this:

Mayor of Crazyville (in English): Zimbabwe, FRELIMO, dollars, Swahili, RENAMO, Obama?

Me and Lisa (also in English): Um... what?

MC: Two smokes? No smoking. Obama, Tanzania.

Us: You aren't making any sense. (Then, in Portuguese) How are you?

MC (still in English): No, no. FRELIMO. (Bends down and pats my calfs). No smoking.

Us (reverting back to English in confusion): Sorry, dude. You are not making any sense.

MC (stepping to within six inches of me and shaping his fingers to look like a gun): Yeah, yeah... Obama. (placing his finger-gun on my chest and pushing me)

Lisa (in Portuguese, because whatever this man speaks, it clearly isn't English): You need to leave.

After that, this dude just sort of wanders off, still looking at us and making weird sounds. For some semblance of clarity, FRELIMO and RENAMO are the two leading political parties here in Mozambique. It all makes sense now, right?

Anyway, less than five minutes later, we managed to flag down a chapa going to Tete, which stopped every 5 minutes to pick up someone new. We finally arrived in Tete around 11:30, and met up with another volunteer named Amanda Moore. She has been in Mozambique for a year already, so she knew better than we did what we should do in order to get down to our final destination. She was heading down towards Chimoio, which is only 2 hours or so south of Catandica. We started walking towards the road that heads out of Tete, trying to hitch a ride the whole way. Finally, at about 1pm, a trucker named Allen tells us that he is heading to Chimoio, and he would be happy to drop us off there for 200 Meticais (about 7 or 8 US Dollars) per person. Since a chapa would be about 350Mt, and would undoubtedly be less comfortable than this trucker's bed (the only location open for sitting), we happily agreed, excited to arrive at our final destination. Allen told us that it should only take about 3.5 hours to Catandica, but he needed to get a paper stamped to show to the traffic police to let them know that he was delivering legal goods in his truck. How long could it take, right? Finally, at 2:50 pm (that's almost another 2 hours of waiting, for those keeping score at home), Allen was able to get his paper stamped. Apparently, the stamper went to lunch, which is a serious affair in Mozambique. The ride was nice, as we only had to share the twin-sized trucker bed with four Mozambicans and Amanda. We arrived in Catandica at about 6:30, and we were in Joanna and Mary's house at 7, thus bringing a twelve hour day of travel to a close. Mind you, we only we only actually traveled for about 6 hours, with the rest being spent trying to get a ride or waiting for a Mozambican to finish his lunch. Can't complain, though. Lisa and I did travel about 265 miles (425 kilometers) for about $10 each. Definitely cheaper than Greyhound, but definitely took a whole lot longer.

We spent the next 6 nights and 5 days with our fellow volunteers playing games, making food, going for walks, and just generally hanging out. It was good for us to relax with peers and speak English for a while, especially after the accident. We were planning on returning to our house on December 27^th, but we learned that the Peace Corps was going to hold a memorial service for the girls who passed away. Therefore, we left Catandica for Chimoio on the 27^th, rather than our house. We spent the next two days remembering Lena and Alden for the great people they were.

This morning, December 30^th, we got up at 3:45 am to catch the 5 am bus from Chimoio to Tete City. We made it all the way to Tete by about 10 am, which is pretty darn fast travel for Mozambique. We stopped for some falafel for lunch, then we hopped a chapa back to Zobue. We were back in our house by 2:30 pm. It feels so good to be home.

Tragic Loss

We have been informed that there has been a tragic accident in the Gaza province of southern Mozambique. Two volunteers, Lena Jenison (Moz 17) and Alden Landis (Moz 17), have passed away, and three others, Mark Goldfarb (Moz 15), Mary Lager (Moz 17), and Derek Roberts (Moz 17) have been severely injured. I don't know anything more that I can share about the accident at this point. Our hearts go out to the families of all of the volunteers effected. 

Happy December!

I know I haven’t written a post since before training really began, partially because I was very busy with training and partially because I saw that Lisa was doing such a good job of chronicling our adventures.  However, training is over now, so I really want to get back to writing posts on a semi-regular basis. 

Before I begin talking about our new site, I feel I should give a quick overview of training.  Training was… helpful.  When we first arrived in the town where we were to train, everything was so strange and new.  We didn’t know the language, the layout of the town, our host families, or even our fellow Peace Corps Trainees.  I remember feeling like I would never really understand what was going on in Mozambique.  The language lessons were exhausting.  One day per week, we had what were called HUB days.  These were days when we would all come together to have lessons about health, safety, culture, and administrative issues.  Initially, these lessons were all given in English, so I looked forward to them being a haven from all of the Portuguese that I was hearing.  As the weeks went on, I began to understand more and more Portuguese and the HUB days became more and more like long meetings.  At the end of our fifth week of training, we left to visit the sites of volunteers that were currently serving.  All fifty-one of us went to different sites in groups of two or three, which gave us at least one English-speaking companion as we traveled around the country.  I visited a town called Alto Molokue in the northern part of Zambezia province with another trainee named Maxx.  In my opinion, site visits were the most useful part of training.  I finally got to see an approximation of what life would be like as a Peace Corps volunteer.  I got to see the conditions at the schools in a real Mozambican town, cook meals for myself (trust me, I was really dying to be in control of my diet), and to see what it was like to be the only white person in town.  There were so many trainees in Namaacha that we didn’t get to receive the customary stares that come with being the only white person.  When we got back from site visit, we jumped into full days of meetings on safety, teaching, etc.  Lisa and I both received a language proficiency level of “intermediate medium” after our first five weeks of language training, so we were considered strong enough in the language to not need extra language lessons.  In our eighth and ninth weeks of training, we participated in what is called “Model School” in which we taught lessons in a setting meant to stimulate our teaching conditions at our sites.  At this point, we all knew where we would be going for the next two years, so it was sometimes difficult to concentrate because we just wanted to GO!  However, we did persevere, and on week ten, we were sworn in as official Peace Corps Volunteers!  The ceremony itself took place at the American Ambassadors house, which was extremely nice, even by American standards.  There was a pool and even an indoor fountain!  Needless to say, it blew my mind, especially comparing it to our accommodations during training.  Unfortunately, Lisa was feeling ill, so she rested on the couch inside for most of the event.  Afterwards, we got to stay in a hotel with running water and electricity (!) which almost made it feel like we were back in America.  The next day, everyone going to the central region of Mozambique (there are 11 of us) got up early to catch a flight to Chimoio, a city in the middle of the country.  We spent the next few days at our “Supervisors Conference” where we all met a staff member of supervisor of the school that we would actually be teaching for.  When we arrived at the hotel where the conference was taking place, we were given an assignment: the following morning, we needed to put together some kind of performance to sum up our training to our supervisors.  We chose to write a song and it went so well, I’ll try to remember the lyrics for your enjoyment:

The Ten Weeks of Training (to the tune of The Twelve Days of Christmas):

Na formacao, appredemos                 …  como falar Portuguese!

Na proxima semana, apprendemos … tomar banho!

                        “                                  … cozinhar arroz

                        “                                  …matar galinhas

                        “                                  …passaer um pouco

                        “                                  …engomar a roupa

                        “                                  …limpar a casa

                        “                                  …lavar a roupa

                        “                                  …pilar e ralar

                        “                                  ... apanhar a chapa

Na ultima semana, aprendemos       …ensinar alunos

Roughly translated, the lyrics mean:

In training, we learned           ...  How to speak Portuguese!

In the next week, we learned… How to take a bath

                        “                      … How to cook rice

                        “                      … How to kill chickens

                        “                      …Walk around a little

                        “                      … Iron the clothes

                        “                      … Clean the house

                        “                      … Wash the clothes

                        “                      … Grind (peanuts) and grate (coconut)

                        “                      … Catch a chapa (mode of transport)

In the last week, we learned… How to teach students

While the song isn’t entirely accurate (Lisa and I never learned how to kill a chicken, but others did), it gives some idea of what was going on in Namaacha.  The rest of the conference consisted of meetings held entirely in Portuguese, mostly for the benefit of our supervisors.  We already knew almost all of the information, so we more or less sat through it and tried to comprehend what was being said.  Finally, on a Monday morning, we got up early to load all of our stuff into a chapa (minivan) to move to our permanent site.  We dripped off another volunteer, Bitsy, about a third of the way to our site.  Her house wasn’t ready yet (her school wanted to fix it up for her), so there was some confusion while we figured out where to drop her off.  Finally, we succeeded in getting her where she needed to go, and we were off again towards our site.  The drive was long, and after leaving at 6AM, we arrived in Zobue (our new home) at around 2:30PM.  Thus, we completed our training and stepped into our new life in Zobue. 

                       

We Have Arrived!

We have officially started our Peace Corps training! Before we left for Mozambique, we met in Philadelphia to discuss our expectations of the Peace Corps, and their expectations for us. It was a fun session, but the best part was being able to meet all of the other volunteers that are going to be training with us. Everyone has great stories, and they're super friendly. We even went out to dinner for our last night in the States with a small group; it was a blast.

After our last supper, we had to get up at 2 am to catch a bus to JFK airport in NYC. We didn't get back from dinner until about 10:30, so I decided to just stay up and try to sleep on the plane. The result of this decision was uncomfortable. I did get to sleep a little on the bus, but not more than an hour. We arrived at JFK at 5:30, two hours before we could even check in. I thought it would be best if I could stay awake until our plane left at 11:15.

Our flight boarded and left without incident. Our trip was estimated at 15 hours and 20 minutes, so we were all planning on sleeping as much as possible. Unfortunately, I was too excited to sleep, so instead I watched X-Men: First Class, Super 8, The Simpsons, Lie to Me, Black Swan, Rio, and Kung Fu Panda. I watched something like 12 hours of media during the flight. I spent the rest of the time talking to other volunteers, and taking a nap that lasted about 30 minutes. When our flight landed in Johannesburg after 14.5 hours in the air, I had been awake for about 45 hours with no more than 2 hours of sleep to keep me awake. I made it to the next plane ride, but as soon as we took off, I was fast asleep. Unfortunately, that plane ride was only an hour long, so I still did not have nearly enough sleep.

Our arrival in Maputo, Mozambique was very exciting. We got to see the landscape from the plane, which showed sparsely populated areas, large rivers, and the heavily-populated Maputo. We were immediately reminded that our belongings were no longer safe when some volunteers' bags arrived without all of their items. Some people had to check their carry on luggage because our plane was too small. When the bags were returned at the baggage claim area, two volunteers had had jewelery stolen, and one had all of his money stolen. I think it shocked most of us, and it definitely made me much more wary with my stuff.

The drive from the airport to the hotel was extremely interesting. Maputo was bustling with all sorts of people, many of them children. We saw Nelson Mandela's house from the street, which was cool. When we arrived at the Hotel Cardoso, we immediately unpacked and headed outside to check out the view.

We all thought it was quite spectacular. We didn't have much time to look, though, as we had to head inside for some buffet lunch. The food at this hotel is very good and very well-prepared, but it was Westernized.

After lunch, we started our staging, which includes getting vaccines, receiving information about what we would be doing for the next few days, and talking about the safety risks in Mozambique that we need to adjust to. We broke for dinner, and then went to sleep. We awoke this morning, and continued staging all day today. I am now in bed, and I need to sleep as much as I can. Tomorrow we are going to meet the families that will house us for our ten weeks of training! Boa noite!