Overcrowded Classrooms Spark Village Debate

Last week the Joekwart Memorial Community Centre hosted an important town meeting to address the issue of a new school scheduling system at District Assembly Primary School.  The meeting was chaired by the Chief of Humjibre, Nana Kwadwo Twum II,  with his counsel of elders in attendance.  The new school schedule splits classes into two sessions: a morning session from 7:30am to 12:00pm, and an afternoon session from 1:00pm to 5:00pm.  The teachers from District Assembly Primary School explained that this new arrangement is necessary because their classrooms have become overcrowded, with upwards of 60 students in attendance and students often sitting four to a table. 

Anxious parents expressed two main concerns.  Besides creating learning challenges, parents recognize that overcrowded classrooms also pose a health risk in terms of easier transmission of contagious illness.  This is a legitimate worry, as Humjibre lies on the edge of the tropical rainforest, providing the optimal climate for a host of infectious diseases.  This concern argues in favour of reducing class sizes.  However, the more pressing concern now is that the new school schedule has drastically increased the rate of truancy among students.  Students assigned to the morning sessions have been playing hooky, telling adults passing by as they play outside that they are part of the afternoon session.  Afternoon students pull the same trick in reverse.

When this concern was voiced, the atmosphere of the town meeting became very heated.  Although the meeting was conducted in Sefwi, it was clear that some community members were very upset seeing the children compromise their education by skipping class to run wild and play throughout the whole day.  At many points throughout the meeting, the Chief had to keep order by urging people to calm down and speak one at time.

Everyone was given a chance to express their apprehensions regarding the new schedule and then the floor was opened for suggestions on how to solve the problem.  Things heated up once again, with voices rising and tempers flaring among those who disagreed with suggestions.  Finally the group came to a consensus on a way to solve this predicament.  The community agreed that a new school building should be constructed to accommodate the students adequately.  To cover the costs of undertaking this new construction project, every man in Humjibre is to contribute five Ghana Cedis, and each woman, three Ghana cedis.  A sense of relief permeated the hall once this conclusion was reached, and everyone seemed satisfied to be part of the process that produced this solution.

The problem of overcrowded classrooms is not limited to Ghana, but is a common problem across Sub-Saharan Africa.  A survey by the UNESCO Institute for Statistics shows that “a child in Sub-Saharan Africa is likely to study in an overcrowded classroom that can number as many as 67 pupils in Chad, for example, compared to fewer than 30” in country members of the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development.  Adding to the problem, many classes in the region combine different grades, grouping children of different levels of education together, taught by a single teacher (UNESCO). 

It was clear in observing this town meeting that residents of Humjibre take their childrens’ schooling very seriously.  They know that these early years of school work may very well dictate the rest of the child’s life.  It’s also clear that Humjibre is a place where everyone has a voice, and that the community faces challenges together under the guidance of the Chief and the elders.

Of course some of the children might be disappointed that their carefree, self-given days off from school are over, but one day they will be thankful for it!

Source:
http://www.unesco.org/new/en/education/resources/online-materials/single-view/news/inadequate_school_and_teaching_resources_challenge_education_in_sub_saharan_africa/

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They Do Not Like Green Eggs and Ham

 

 

by John Schaidler

 

 

 

I felt unexpectedly drained and defeated as I turned the page and intoned, with forced enthusiasm:

Would you eat them

in a box?

Would you eat them

with a fox?

The incessant, clanky drumming of rain on the metal roof had finally stopped. I knew they could clearly hear me, but my words hung in the hot, humid air of the library—uninspiring, dull and joyless.

Kwame fidgeted in place, uncrossing and recrossing his legs. Alua elbowed his sister, imploring her to slide over and give him some space. I felt the itchy tickle of sweat on my scalp and forehead. Kwame and his two friends, whose names I didn’t yet catch, wordlessly got up and walked away.

I’d totally lost them.

Undeterred, I melodically pressed on, pointing to each object as I read the word, rotating side to side so everyone could see:

Not in a box.

Not with a fox.

Not in a house.

Not with a mouse….

I glanced up. Seventeen blank faces stared back. I took a deep breath and continued.

I would not eat them here or there.

I would not eat them anywhere.

I would not eat green eggs and ham.

I do not like them, Sam-I-am.

Alua’s sister pinched him. He smacked her in the leg. She immediately retaliated, punching him square in the shoulder. “Okay, okay,” I said gently, “that’s enough, you two.” Another kid stood up and left, unapologetically. Two more quickly followed. I sighed and closed the book. “Why don’t we take a break and…?” The rest of the children scattered in all directions, seizing the opportunity to get away from my mind numbing read-aloud.

I was baffled and heartbroken. Dr. Seuss is one of my all-time favorite authors, an undisputed genius. Green Eggs and Ham is one of my all-time favorite books, an unrivalled classic. This was what I’d signed up for. This was why I was here. This was what I’d dreamt of the last several months.

I stared at the dusty floor, trying to retrace my steps and figure out where I’d gone wrong. Just 45 minutes ago—waiting for the library to open—we’d all been laughing and smiling, playing the local version of jacks under the metal eaves as the rain pelted down. Earlier in the day, we’d all played soccer in the rutted, grassless field in front of the community center.  I’d made fast friends with them all. It was like I’d known them all my life. But suddenly, here in the library, book in hand, I was just another boring teacher plodding my way through another boring text, reconfirming the fact that reading was an utterly boring chore.

Months ago, back in the States, the phone interviewer had asked me, “What’s a successful development worker’s most important trait? What will you bring to the ‘Ghana Read and Play’ session?”

Without a moment’s hesitation I’d said, “Humility.” Hearing a positive sounding, “Hmmm,” on the other end I quickly continued. “I think it’s important to remember that I am a guest. It is a privilege to live and work in the host community, not a right. I am there to learn, as well as teach. I need to always ask questions, not think I have all the answers. I need to leave my Western biases behind and be fully present, prepared to look, listen and learn, respectfully and appreciatively.”

Bam!

Perfect.

Nailed it.

I secretly high-fived myself as the interviewer asked the next question. Rarely has anyone been so proud of his own humility. Right then and there, despite my good intentions, despite the words that I’d just spoken, despite everything I knew about the vital importance of making truly authentic cross-cultural connections, the seeds of my Western “superiority” were sown and quickly taking root. Now, on the lonely wooden bench of Humjibre’s Community Library six thousand miles from home, my deeply entrenched Western notions were bearing bitter fruit. They did not like Green Eggs and Ham.

In my unthinking rush of excitement, I thought I’d done everything right. I’d gathered the kids around me, greeting them in Twi—“Wo ho te sen?”—and telling them my name—“Me din de John”—but I’d blown right past the first step. I hadn’t even bothered to ask a single question or tried to figure out what the kids wanted and needed. Instead, enticed by the bright orange cover of one of my favorite childhood books, I’d plucked it from the shelf and unconsciously decided I knew what was needed. Never mind what the kids thought. Never mind the goal. Never mind the desired outcomes. We were going to get there by reading Dr. Seuss.

Ennngh.

Wrong.

Less than halfway through the story my audience had vanished, thoroughly disenchanted. Like the foolish, self-absorbed protagonist in any number of folk tales I read and heard throughout the years here I was, paying the price of false modesty. Why challenge my ingrained assumptions when I knew I had all the answers? So much for “humility.” I stared at the distinctive reddish-orange mud caked on my shoes—the color of no other dirt I’d ever seen in my life—and thought about the book in my hands.

Ham…? What was I thinking? I’d been in Ghana less than 72 hours, but had yet to see a pig. Yams, plantains, rice and beans are eaten in some combination for virtually every meal. In fact, rural Ghanaian diets rarely include meat of any kind, let alone pork. It seemed highly unlikely any of these kids had ever seen or eaten ham. A train…? Ghana’s railway system essentially collapsed in 1965. The nearest station is in Kumasi, 70 miles away. Most people in Humjibre spend their entire lives in a 20 miles radius, less than a third of that distance. Taking a bus or a taxi is rare. Two percent of the population has ever taken a train.  Sam-I-am…? Think about that for a minute. It’s certainly melodic and silly—a lot of fun to say—but it’s a weird concept to grasp for a native English speaker, not to mention an English language learner.

I flipped through page after page, carefully reading the words and looking at the illustrations. It became increasingly clear how truly foreign this book was. The words and sentences were not overly long or complex, but devoid of their western cultural context, they didn’t resonate at all.  They were virtually meaningless. A bunch of sing-songy gibberish.

I stood up and scanned the room. Every child I saw was either readings his own book, or sharing a book with friends. Everyone was reading something, just not Green Eggs and Ham.

I wandered back to the shelf from which I’d gotten the book. There sat an undisturbed collection of near-mint Western classics: Make Way for Ducklings, The Little Engine That Could, Madeline, Curious George, Where the Sidewalk Ends. Meanwhile, on a dusty mat not 10 feet away, a steady stream of kids borrowed and returned a motley collection of tattered, dog-eared books from a brown plastic milk crate. As soon as a book was returned, it was immediately scooped up again.

Aha!

This was the mother lode. Unsurprisingly, it was a collection of picture books about Africa and Ghana: alphabet books, counting books, books about colors, books about shapes and a book called Nii Kwei’s Day: From Dawn to Dusk in a Ghanaian City, a book I’d happened to read back home in Minnesota in preparation for this very trip. A boy snatched it from the pile and looked up at me, hopefully. “Want me to read it?” I asked. He nodded and gave me the book. We sat on the mat and I started to read. Instantly, we were thronged. Kids excitedly pointed at and commented on familiar words and pictures: broom, bucket bath, football, a distinctive maroon and yellow two-tone Ghanaian taxi. This was what their lives looked like in print. This was a book about them.

In hindsight it makes perfect sense. Beginning readers and English language learners (ELLs) naturally gravitate toward concepts, words and pictures that reflect their daily lives. They are drawn to what professor emeritus at the University of Southern California and bilingual education expert Stephen D. Krashen calls “comprehensible input”—culturally relevant images, stories, poems and nonfiction that directly echo their life experiences.

“When we don’t understand a language, we don’t acquire it,” explains Krashen. “Incomprehensible input becomes undifferentiated noise, signifying nothing. It fails to register in the brain.” In fact, there may be nearly 6,000 books in the Humjibre Community Library, but—as Krashen emphasizes—that’s hardly the point. “The only English that helps is the English that students understand,” a phenomenon I’d just witnessed firsthand. “What matters is the quality—not the quantity—of English exposure.”

This is not to suggest there’s no place for Dr. Seuss in African libraries and classrooms. Certainly, there are a great many African students able to read and enjoy the antics of The Cat in the Hat or boo and hiss The Grinch Who Stole Christmas. It does mean, however, that one brown plastic milk crate of high interest, culturally relevant, reading level appropriate books outweighs sagging shelf after sagging shelf of Western pop psychology self-help best sellers, do-it-yourself home repair manuals, fantasy football and Pokémon guides, Justin Bieber and Taylor Swift biographies and endless copies of The Da Vinci Code—all books I actually saw on the shelves in Humjibre.

There is a book famine in Africa. Most families don’t own a single book of their own. Community and school libraries are sparsely populated or nonexistent. Book stores in even the largest cities are exceedingly rare. We are right to want to help. We are right to donate our used and excess books. But just as we would be foolish and insensitive to alleviate hunger by sending table scraps and crumbs, we are unwise and even unkind to send hopelessly outdated, culturally misaligned or just plain useless books to budding African libraries.

Please, donate new and gently used books to reputable organizations that serve communities in need, but be mindful of your selections. The Western classics you or your children love may not be the best choice. In fact, whatever their utility or worth, it takes a great deal of money, time, effort and coordination to ship books overseas and get them into the hands print-starved children. The quality of your donation likely outweighs the quantity of it. So if you’re unsure what books might be best, ask a bookseller, librarian, teacher or the aid organization itself. There are dozens—perhaps hundreds—of culturally relevant, high interest books from which to choose.  Books that the kids will love and read over and over again. Trust me, when they find a book they like…

   

They will read it in a box.

They will read it with a fox.

They will read it in a house.

They will read it with a mouse.

They will read it here and there.

They will read it ANYWHERE!

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Gifts That Keep On Giving

It’s 7:30 pm and the GHEI Humjibre Community Library is quiet, the only sounds coming from the rustling of turning pages and the low murmur of whispered discussions about homework and readings.  Around forty students fill the study carrels, working quietly on their homework or enjoying some leisure reading with their favourite novels.

The four white boxes in the corner haven’t attracted the students’ attention yet, which isn’t surprising as there is nothing remarkable about their appearance.  But it’s the content of these boxes that will soon turn the library’s quiet atmosphere into roaring excitement.  Recently Lincoln Community School in Accra donated these four boxes brimming with books to GHEI’s library.

Breaking into the evening silence, Library Administrator Lawrence Donkor addresses everyone, asking for a few volunteers.  A few hands go up, then a couple more, and the reluctant volunteers stand up and come forward.  “Go ahead, see what’s in these boxes,” Lawrence says.  The kids look at one another cautiously, and then at the boxes, as if they’re wondering if they’re about to be pranked.  They slowly open the cardboard boxes to reveal their contents and are pleasantly surprised by the wide array of reading material they hold.  Then they immediately start browsing through the books.

Two boxes contain picture books for young children, while the other two boxes hold young adult novels, such as the classic “Harry Potter” series (in it’s entirety!) and "Lemoney Snickett’s A Series of Unfortunate Events", as well as less familiar titles such as “The Extraordinary Adventures of Ordinary Boy!”

By now the rest of the students are watching closely, their attention captured by the bright covers of the hundreds of books.  After a little encouragement to go and explore the library’s newest literary treasures, the rest of the kids practically sprint to the boxes to catch a peek.

The kids’ curiosity was contagious, and I couldn’t resist browsing through our new collection myself, wondering what other books might be found.  I was pleased to find one of my favourite picture books from my childhood, “A Color of his Own,” a brightly illustrated book about the colour-changing chameleon.  It’s amazing to think that after all these years I still remember special books that made an impression on me during my growing up years, and awesome to think that our young students here in Humjibre will remember their favourite stories from this batch of books for years to come!

Lawrence was also delighted when he saw that amongst the donated books was his favourite, “Whistle for Willie,” in which a young boy does his best to learn to whistle for his dog.  “I used this book in teaching some of our young students.  It’s great!  I will read this book to my daughter so that she will learn to love to read,” enthused Lawrence. 

 Back in May of 2005 when GHEI first opened the Humjibre Community Library, 1,300 books found their home on its shelves.  After expanding the building structure in 2007, we were thrilled to add over 3,000 books through a generous donation from Books for Africa in 2009.  Through our partnerships with groups like Books for Africa, and other institutions like Lincoln Community School, our library now has close to 6,000 books and is still growing.

I’d like you, for a moment, to think of your home’s bookshelf.  It’s probably filled with a variety of books covering an assortment of subjects, most of which you have already read and are now collecting dust.  Imagine how happy those books would make an eager young reader in the developing world!  I’ve had the privilege of seeing their excitement first hand, and it’s a heartwarming sight to see the kids rejoicing over these wonderful gifts, getting so excited about their education without even knowing it!

I urge you to round up those old books of yours and donate them to organizations that make it their mission to put them in the hands of people who will cherish their every word. They’ll go from useless trophies on your shelves to becoming valuable educational resources for years to come.

GHEI would like to offer our sincere thanks to Lincoln Community School, as well as all our other partners who continue to support our library!

 

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Volunteer Reflections - Girls Empowerment: Summer Serve and Learn 2012

GHEI's Summer Serve and Learn sessions came to an end last month and our volunteers are now back at home in North America, digesting all that they've seen and learned through the experience.  Susan Choy, a volunteer from the first session of the summer, has been gracious enough to offer these insightful reflections on her time spent working with us in Humjibre.

1) Why did you choose the Girls’ Empowerment session?

Currently, I volunteer with New York City’s chapter of the National Organization for Women (NOW-NYC). This non-profit is a dynamic advocate for women’s rights through the promotion of comprehensive reproductive healthcare access, economic empowerment, and campaigns to end violence against women. I began to connect these global issues during my international immersion trips to Nicaragua and involvement in the Southeast Asian Student Association while I was a student at Boston College.

When I learned about GHEI’s Girls’ Empowerment session, I was inspired by the idea of engaging in a global experience to help empower young girls. This session is designed around leadership, life skills, and reproductive health issues related to boosting the confidence of young female Ghanaians. I read in the GHEI Handbook that “in many impoverished societies including Humjibre, female education is considered an economic tradeoff. Oftentimes, families need their children to help with younger children or home chores rather than go to school and oftentimes, young women are forced to forgo their education” (pg. 1). The session’s objective is to motivate these young women to continue their education and equip them with the knowledge and self-confidence to set goals to achieve their aspirations. Education is a start to leveling the unequal playing field, and women deserve an equal opportunity and encouragement to access educational resources. The ideals of the session, and GHEI, are aligned with my own passions for social justice, so it was a fitting partnership.

2) What were some specific challenges that you faced in the session? How did you overcome them?

It was difficult to temper my desire to introduce more women’s reproductive rights ideas into the curriculum for the girls. I definitely felt that they were smart enough to learn a lot more and become advocates for their community. However, the planning sessions with the team helped me take a step back, and I realized that they needed to become advocates for themselves first. This understanding helped me scale back my “grand” ideas and focus on ensuring that the girls learned the core concepts of family planning and life skills.

Additionally, it was difficult, at times, to ascertain whether or not the girls understood the core concepts, due to cultural/language barriers. It was helpful to explain concepts in a couple different ways, review concepts at the end of the sessions, and ask the girls questions about the lessons. More importantly, Aggie, Jen, Raven, and Happy were fantastic in assisting us to infuse our lessons with culturally relevant ideas and terms.

 3) What were some of your “lessons learned?”

• Be flexible. Situations come up unexpectedly

• Be open. New experiences are right around the corner and try everything at least once.

• Be willing to listen and learn. The local people know what is best for their community.

All too often service can be misconstrued as “us” helping “them.” The most enriching part of a service experience is working alongside the local people and learning their stories. This mutual understanding can lead to collaborative efforts that have the most impact. GHEI has reinforced this concept for me.

4) What were some memorable moments of your experience?

I was most impressed by the tenacity displayed by young Ghanaians to strengthen their communities. GHEI’s core foundation is in local capacity building as the sustainable method to help the community progress. GHEI has activated a youth literacy campaign by engaging students in a Read-a-Thon at the GHEI community library. GHEI has trained community members to become Community Health Workers, who develop outreach events and maintains the health initiatives. Some of their projects include bed net demonstrations for malaria prevention, hand washing programs in schools to improve hygiene and sanitation, reproductive and sexual health education, and HIV/AIDS awareness. GHEI offers supplementary courses and tutoring for students who are falling behind and for high-achieving students to further excel. Ghana’s youth is central in all of these programs, which is a strong display of GHEI’s methodology at work.

I enjoyed learning from the girls beyond our lessons in the classroom. It was great to cook local dishes with them, learn Ghanaian games, and to visit their families. These activities supported the idea that we have much to learn from each other. There is such a great need for us to unite our efforts in direct action to improve our global community, and I feel deeply privileged to be able to help in some small way.

5) What is your advice to potential volunteers?

a) Absorb as much as you can of this beautiful country because you never know when you will come back.

b) Take control of your experience. If you want to learn about an issue or want to do an activity, take initiative and ask respectfully.

c) Reflect on how your past experiences are informing your current interactions and how your time in Ghana will play a role in your future.

Ultimately, the experience is what you make of it. Give the community your energy and commitment, and make your experience worthwhile!

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