Last Classes

                Mindful of the time demands on our audience for this blog, and also because we are now doing things here we've been doing for about 2 years, I had resolved to post no more blogs addressing our current activities, as opposed to summations, but yesterday morning was too rich.  And I had my camera.

                This was our last week of teaching.  (All 3 of our schools have end-of-term exams next week,so all classes are cancelled,  and the following week is our last at site;  neither we nor our students will want classes then.)   We tried to make the last session for each grade kind of special, so after reviewing some imitsetfo ymphilo  (rules for living: eat healthy food; study hard; read books; avoid sex or use protection - the usual) we brought to this 6th grade class the "box library" of books Katherine had culled from the High School, for use at the nearby "poorer" primary school where these books might be more age-appropriate (although we get 20-year-olds in Grade 5 - sitting next to 9-year-olds 1/3rd their size!).  The kids had been begging for a chance at those books. 

                Distributing the books is always hard, because the students, in their eagerness, become very physical, but we've gotten better at managing that situation.  We were about 2 books short, but we'd brought some other books visitors had left, so we had enough, although some of the books were in a context these kids could hardly appreciate: a book of Texas history; about golden retriever dogs; or fluffy show cats.  But as they got back to their seats and got into the books, a most unusual silence fell (which does not happen much in our classes.)  They read on, and on (some working word for word through the copyright notices and acknowledgments!).  And at the end of class we had to pry them away.  To appreciate this, you have to know that these kids have an English vocabulary of may 500 words, few with more than 2 syllables.  But they really wanted to read these books.  And when the books were a little hard, or unfamiliar, they wanted to read them more.

Those of you who have helped us with Books For Africa should know that this addresses a strongly felt craving.  (You see one of our name tags: Gift, a common name - actually, my name - Sipho.  My Swazi name Sipho translates to Gift.  We teach 240 students a week, plus other classes we pick up nearly every week, and I still need the name tags we have the students put on their desks. Katherine can keep track of more of the students, at least the ones with personality;  personality can cut both ways.)

                Here is the morning assembly at that school.  I've been recording on my iPhone some of the singing I especially like, such as "church practice" at the Refugee Camp, but it's not the singing I wanted here.  At the end of assembly they recite the Lord's Prayer in English each morning, all beginning together as instructed by the teacher.  Invariably Grades 1, 2 and 3 race ahead and proudly finish at least a line or more before the Grade 7s.  Those are the younger kids to the left, up to Grade 4 on the right edge.

                Here's a little girl who lives near us, whom we teach in Grade 5, bringing wood home from the acacia forest 1/2 mile away.

                We are going miss those special moments: the voices at morning assembly and the morning sun catching the smiles; that moment in the classroom when we connect; greeting one of our special friends.