A Smorgasbord of Paragraphs

This post may be the most non-cohesive post yet, because I'm pretty much putting my thoughts out about anything and everything from the past week right now. But here it goes.

Education update

Last week Friday and today I visited Lukenya Boys' High School, just down the road from Daystar. Overall it was a good school to be in, although a couple weird things occurred last Friday as a result of some communication errors – errors occurring both between me and the teachers and between the schools. I did learn one valuable lesson about cultural expectations. Last Friday, the teachers kept asking me when I would start teaching. I tried to tell them I wasn't going to be teaching, just observing, but they didn't seem to understand that concept. In talking to Jeff, I found out that he wasn't totally surprised they were expecting me to come in and teach a lesson. Apparently in some churches he attended as he traveled around the world, he was expected to give a sermon. No seminary training, not ordained, but it didn't matter – he was the guest and he should be able to share the Word. The same idea seems to translate into teaching, since this is the second school that was expecting me to teach lessons as soon as possible. Plus, according to what I've heard about teacher training in Kenya, they don't go in and observe schools hardly at all – they just start student teaching the last year of university. So this also explains the Lukenya teachers not grasping that I wasn't ready to teach; after all, any university students from Kenya who come to the school are student teachers and start teaching lessons within days or weeks of arrival. This also explains why they expected that I was coming back every single day for the next few weeks, which I cannot do due to classes and other schools I'm observing in.

Regardless, I did end up teaching a lesson today. I have taught lessons in other observations, plus I had the head of the language department in the room with me, so as far as I know it still follows rules since I wasn't 100% responsible for the class. The craziest thing was I had just seen the material this morning and then taught it at 12:30 pm. And call me conceited, but I feel really proud of the job I did on that one lesson, and totally would have taken on another. In my couple hours to plan this lesson, I even followed some guidelines Illinois lesson plans ask for and only realized later that I had done so. I wish I had Trinity professor input, but I think I had the approval of the head of the department at Lukenya.

Despite being in an African classroom, not being a full-out teacher yet, and seeing the material just this morning, I wasn't nervous up there. I was confident in what I was teaching, and the students seemed to respond positively. I have faith I taught them something. Basically, today has been one more voice saying “hey Becca – you're going to be a teacher. And you're going to have crazy days, and not every lesson will go as great, but you're so ready for this. You can definitely be a good teacher – without a doubt.”

Simple pleasures

I have experienced several simple pleasures this week.

Sunday morning, I journeyed downtown with Paige and Luke. We went to church first; I was joyful to finally be in a church again, and it was especially special since it was Palm Sunday. I got to sing “hosanna!” with African believers. I loved it. Then we went to YaYa shopping center, got a good lunch at Java House, and I spent over an hour just looking through the bookstore. I didn't buy a single book, just added to my list of what to look for on Amazon or in used bookstores, but I felt so happy just kneeling on the floor opening new and old books, reading descriptions, and noting titles. I am such a geek.

We ended the afternoon and evening at Jeff and Asaaska's apartment. I felt so refreshed just sitting in the living room, smelling real food cooking, having dessert (I did not know fresh strawberries, ice cream, and a peanut butter brownie could hit the spot that hard – so good!), and feeling at home. Tyler and Max also joined, and the five of us spent the night. The next morning, when I slept past 8 and took a hot shower for the first time since our heater broke about a month ago, I was feeling so happy. I didn't really want to leave this home environment to go back to school.

However, when I did get back to school, feeling a little letdown, God was like “hey, Becca, why don't I give you something to lift your spirits.” I went to class that afternoon, a class the entire program shares; and we sat. A few people said something about leaving, but we all knew that class never starts on time here. Yet, I had heard from Daystar students that just like we have the unwritten fifteen minute rule at Trinity, they follow a half-hour-and-leave rule – no teacher within 30 minutes, it's acceptable to leave after signing a paper indicating your presence. So that's what we did. We signed the paper and left. However, we were feeling the need to be sneaky, so headed down the back steps, giggling and rushing.

We later found out our lecturer's mother died – not quite as spirit-boosting anymore, but the fact was I already felt better just being goofy with the people I have come to love.

Then it got better. Dara's family is visiting, and we ended up meeting them out by the shops off-campus. After introductions, Dara pulled out of her purse baggies of chocolate that her parents had put together – one for each of us. You have no idea how good American chocolate tastes when you haven't had it in a really long time. Dara, if you're reading this – thank your family again. Then Jeff came over from a meeting on campus and decided we all needed smoothies for our group meeting. The night was topped off with watching Les Miserables while we made cards for Luke's birthday.

Tuesday something similar happened, and I don't think these people even realize it. My Tuesday class is not my favorite, and often frustrates me. It wasn't particularly bad this Tuesday, but I was still a little wound up inside by the time we were dismissed. I grabbed lunch, sat with two of my favorite African ladies, and then headed back to my hostel, not entirely sure what I was planning to do for the afternoon. Then I heard my name and saw Leah and Kaitlan standing ahead of me on the sidewalk. When I reached them, they told me they had just decided they wanted to go to Lukenya Motorcross, our favorite place to relax around the pool, and they invited me along. It ended up being seven of us, joined later by a couple more. Nothing major happened; we mostly just sat around, playing cards, laughing, and relaxing. But it was a good way to unwind.

Now, none of these things are something that took a lot of time, effort, or money. Yet, each proved to be just what I needed at the time. Sometimes it's the simplest things in life that can bring joy.

Easter weekend

This weekend is Easter, one of my favorite holidays. I have never been away from my SGCRC community for this holiday, and it was one of the things I was not happy I'd be missing. I'm still a little anxious, not sure where I am going to church on this day, but at least there are some plans for the weekend.

Four members of our group left this afternoon to head to Mt. Kenya, the second tallest mountain in Africa, for a weekend of climbing. I ask for prayers that they stay healthy, stay safe (climbing this mountain is not an easy feat), and most of all have fun and amazing experiences surrounded by God's awesome creation.

Another item for prayer regards the Supreme Court dealings in Kenya right now. Just as the U.S. Supreme Court is busy deciding the marriage laws for the country, Kenyan courts are deciding the leader of the country. The election results may be overturned if the court decides the election was rigged. They are supposed to make an announcement of the decision Saturday, and whatever the decision is holds a potential for inciting riots or protests. This possibility keeps us from being able to be in Nairobi this weekend (a long weekend in Nairobi had been one of our original ideas for the weekend). I just pray that the decision proves to be what is right for this country and that the people will stay peaceful.

Since our Nairobi plan fell through, we came up with a new plan. On Saturday one of the committees on campus has organized a trip to Fourteen Falls, some waterfalls nearby, and those who are not hiking Mt. Kenya are going on this trip. Then on Sunday us non-mountain-climbers are actually climbing our own sort of mountain – Mount Longonot, a strato-volcano located in the Rift Valley. It's a 3-4 hour hike that I've heard is quite steep. Me hiking up a steep slope for 3-4 hours? Yeah, I know, it doesn't sound like something I'd do, but I am! I have a feeling the view and feeling of accomplishment will be worth it.

So there you have it. A conglomeration of thoughts and events in no particular order. This doesn't reflect well on my organized writing skills.

Nor does this reflect well on my conclusion skills.

Half-way There

Last Saturday, March 16 marked the half-way point. Wednesday marked exactly 7 weeks until I'm back in the windy city of Chicago. Hannah, our student teacher, completed her 7 weeks abroad and left early Saturday. I realized after Sociolinguistics Wednesday that I will attend each of my classes only 5 more times. We're on the downward slope towards the end of the semester.

Time has passed both slowly and quickly. We have done so much that it feels like we've been here for a lot more than two months. Yet, when we all realized how little time we have left, it blew my mind. Didn't we just pull into campus a couple weeks ago? After months of planning, praying, and preparing for this semester, it's going to be over in less than 7 weeks. Crazy, right?

Sometimes I think I forget how unbelievable this is. I forget that I am thousands of miles away from my Midwest bubble; forget I'm far away from the United States even. The sunshine I'm enjoying is not part of a summer season or a nice vacation in the States. I don't remember that I am not on just another college campus. I forget that I am in Africa, something I never would have foreseen as an event in my college career. I forget this until I wander up behind the library, sit down on a rock where I am able to see for miles, and I see three lizards scurry past me. Then I remember. TIA – this is Africa.

The weekend events also remind me weekly exactly how fortunate I am and how incredible it is that I am in this country, on a totally different continent. It's things like watching a baby elephant who was rescued from the nearby countryside down two bottles of milk in front of me and reaching out to pet its bristly back or reading a Facebook message about riding ostriches this Saturday that remind me that I am living a dream.

I would be lying if I said I didn't miss my Michigan and Illinois homes, and I will be very glad to be back in May. Yet, God sends me little things like those lizards, this weather, the weekend outings, and creation around me to remind me to take advantage of the time I do have here. It's going to be gone in no time, and I will be wishing I were back here, enjoying parts of God's creation I do not see at home. I'll wish I was with my “family” of North American college kids, stargazing at hundreds of stars more than can ever be seen near Chicago, or jamming to tunes while we unashamedly hand-wash our laundry and hang it out to dry, telling stories of the monkeys that stole our food from our rooms, or even taking the hot, dusty walk down to the pool nearly every week and learning more about them through our conversations.

But we do have just less than seven weeks left. I have a lot more experiences to go through, a lot more memories make. The most that I learn and take away from this semester will not come from the classrooms of Daystar. It will come from observations in Kenyan schools, weekend activities that I have never done and will never get to do again, afternoons that seemed to be ordinary but turned into something memorable, and so much more.

God has plans for these next 47 days, and they're going to be good. Sure, there will still be things that are frustrating. But I hope to always find the little blessings in every day, because God definitely has poured a bucket-load of them on me. 

Less-than-quality picture taken by my webcam of my view as I write this blog

 

Zanzibar

 As promised, I have an update on this past week in Zanzibar. In one sentence summary: it was one of the best spring breaks I've ever had and I did not want to come back.

We left early Sunday morning and headed to Jomo Kenyatta airport. The last time we were there was just over a month ago, when we first stepped foot in Kenya at 4 am. Anyway, the flight to Zanzibar was a lot less eventful than the flight to Korr on the charter planes, but everything went smoothly. After several forms both in Kenya and Zanzibar and enduring the lines to get our fingerprints scanned and our faces recognized by the computer, we got another visa stamped in our passports and eventually made it out of the airport. One thing that was very different right away: it was humid. Kenya doesn't have humidity despite its heat. Add African heat to humidity and you're going to be sweating a whole lot.

Sunday through Tuesday afternoon were spent in Stonetown, on the west coast of Zanzibar. As previously mentioned, this is the historical and shopping side of the island. It's a very tourist-y spot, and it was suddenly strange to see so many wzungu every day.

We stayed at the Tembo Hotel in Stonetown for those two nights. This place is classy and gorgeous. It was originally the embassy housing in Zanzibar, and they converted the rooms into a hotel. Out the back is the beach – you can walk right on through onto the shore – and a magnificent spot for watching sunsets (and we had two pretty good ones... the first was amazing. The second was okay, though more cloudy). Our group was spread over six rooms, most with three people in them, and not one room was exactly the same, though all really gorgeous. I have to say, though, our room was quite possibly the best of the group. There were two double beds plus a king (I got a double bed all to myself), air conditioning, a TV, a tile bathtub, and a balcony that overlooked the pool area and ocean. It rocked.

View from our balcony

Most of the two and a half days, though, we spent our time outside of the hotel. A walk down the beach brought us to a boardwalk area, with some food shops open all day, pretty architecture to look at, and at night dozens of food vendors set up tables and offered a variety of unique dishes for pretty reasonable prices. If we went out the front of the hotel, we were headed for the jungle that is Stonetown's streets and shops. As shown in some of my pictures, most streets are very narrow – just large enough for one car to fit through while pedestrians squeeze in their stomachs and press themselves against the wall or hop into a shop to avoid getting run over. Lining these streets are many shops with African-made merchandise. A lot of it can be found in Nairobi as well, but going into Nairobi and finding the markets involves a full day's commitment, so I took advantage of the accessibility of these shops – plus allowed myself more splurge money because it was spring break – and bought a few things, including some items found only in Zanzibar. My bartering skills still aren't great, but I was able to knock the prices down on what I bought.

I liked shopping in Stonetown, but I don't know that I could have handled more than two days there walking those streets because it starts to get stressful. Everywhere you go, especially if you're white, no matter if you're intending to shop or not, you will have people following you offering you merchandise or just trying to pull you into their shop. They may even offer to lead you to somewhere, only to first bring you to their shop to look around or expect payment for their “tour” services. This heckling also included the beach behind our hotel – I was approached by a couple different men trying to sell fabric and sunglasses. They didn't hurt me in any way, but it just got annoying to constantly be pestered.

Aside from all the shopping, there is also history to be found in Stonetown. Though I found out the national museum is apparently no longer in business (really cool looking building though), and I never made it to the House of Wonders, I was still able to go to a historical site with a small group. After weaving through the streets, trying to figure out the right direction, we eventually made it to the Anglican Christ Church Cathedral – the former site of the slave market in Zanzibar. This was the final slave market to close, and was very well-known and trafficked thousands of slaves from east and central Africa. We paid just under $4 to get in, and it was well worth it, in my opinion.

Our guide first brought us into the sanctuary of the cathedral. This is one of the few Christian church buildings in Zanzibar, being a dominantly Islamic island, and still holds services on Sundays, and Christians from all sorts of denominations join under its ceiling. However, originally, this was the main site of the market for buying slaves. There used to be a tree that stood where the altar is now placed, and slaves would be tied to that tree and whipped, just to test their strength. Many died while bound there. The tiles under the altar in the church are spattered with red color, representing the blood shed at that spot. In the back of the church is the baptism font. The font is usually placed at the front of churches, but there is a special reason behind this font's placement. Children who were over 5 years old may survive and may be bought in the market. However, if children younger than 5 were brought to the market, they would be slaughtered. They now baptize children in that very spot – the font in the back of the church.

After the sanctuary, we went outside to a memorial that has been designed. An artist created 5 figures, chained together in much the same way the slaves were chained. These men and women were chained with separate nationalities, so that there was no common language spoken and an uprising was hindered. The looks on their faces saddened me, and I pictured even more morose and agonized expressions were on the faces of slaves chained in this way.

The final place we visited in this tour were the slave chambers. It's hard to come up with one word to describe this. I'd say “awesome” but that has too much of a positive connotation. Rather it was sobering and horrifying and saddening to be in this place, in the spots where men, women, and children stayed for days, locked up like animals. When we entered the chamber, we all had to duck – even I, at 5'3”. The first of the two chambers was the “larger” one. In this chamber, about 75 slaves would be held at once. I believe in this chamber it was mostly just men, if I remember correctly. There were less than ten of us in there – I can hardly imagine 65 more full-grown men. Across from the chamber was a second room, where 50 slaves were held (women and children, if I remember correctly). The guide told us that a drain that brought in sea water would fill the floor by their feet, and this also became the slaves' sewer. The necks, hands, and feet of the slaves were constantly chained while in the cell. Though there's a building on top of the chamber now, when it was used for slaves, no building was there so the hot sun beat through the concrete above their heads. There was one window; the light bulb that was in there while we were in there was added after it was no longer used for holding slaves, so the only light the slaves had came from one window. The conditions were so rough that this was considered the first test – if the slave survived the chamber, they must be a good worker. 

 

75 men in this one room

It hurt my heart looking around, thinking how de-humanized these slaves were. They were human beings, but they were treated as though they were worthless animals, or worse, that could be brutalized and cooped up. Sometimes the events of history make absolutely no sense to me.

Tuesday morning two boats pulled up to the beach by our hotel and men with bags of flippers and goggles dumped them on the beach for us to sort through, try on, and select. We had decided to go snorkeling.

We took a short boat ride away from the shore of Stonetown to “prison island.” This island was established as a place to send prisoners, but has been turned into a hotel, restaurant, and giant tortoise sanctuary. We visited the tortoises, which are the second largest in size only to Galapagos Island tortoises. See pictures to get an idea just how big these guys are.

After about 45 minutes or so on the island, we got back on the boats to travel a short distance to the reef nearby. There we donned our masks, snorkels, and flippers and jumped in.

This was one of the coolest things I have ever done – which, if you consider what I've done, is pretty amazing. There were so many fish of all shapes, colors, and sizes, not to mention the beautiful coral and other plant life – all of these organisms that I have only seen on TV or in magazines. I honestly felt like this wasn't my life, that a college kid from the Midwest in the U.S. who's studying to be an English teacher could not possibly be here, swimming off the coast of an African island, gliding through the bluest of blue water as fish that I've only seen in movies – or never seen at all – swim directly in front of my face.

We stayed out there 2 or 3 hours, snapping underwater pics or just swimming around in awe of what we were seeing. When we got out and headed back to shore, I realized a big difference between swimming in a lake for 2-3 hours and swimming in the ocean for 2-3 hours – my skin, in particular my lips, was more shriveled than I have ever experienced before. But I was happy, still not entirely sure if I was dreaming.

I was about to experience that “is this real life?” feeling a lot more in the next 3 and a half days. Once back from snorkeling, we grabbed a quick lunch and then piled all of our stuff onto a small bus to ride across the island to the east coast, to an area called Paje. We pulled into a compound that had several hut-like buildings, a bar and restaurant-type area, hammocks, and palm trees all around. This was New Teddy's Place, our home for the rest of the week. We were greeted by a young man named Simba (which we all recognized means “lion”) and eventually also met Genius, another regular worker. We split into different cabins, 7 of us girls in the “dorm.” I kind of wish my dorm was like that one. It was plenty spacious, even with 7 beds plus some shelves, and you didn't need to worry about tracking dirt in there – the floor was sand. From that point on, we didn't wear shoes most of the rest of the week.

Though New Teddy's did not have cabins directly on the beach, we were pretty dang close. Climb up some stairs, then descend onto a path and see the ocean. That path was tread by our feet more times than I could count. The beach was one of our favorite places. We would either swim in the ocean, or lay in the sun, or relax on some wicker beds, or take a walk down the beach to the couple of restaurants we liked to visit. I even slept out there some nights (whether intentionally or unintentionally). This part of our vacation was a lot more chill – everyone was reading, talking together, and just plain relaxing.

 

And, oh, the food. It worked out that in addition to our complimentary breakfast, the budget was enough for the program to pay for dinners from New Teddy's too. Zanzibar cuisine specializes in seafood, being a port, but not being into fish and not adventurous enough to try squid or octopus, I had some really good pasta, spice chicken, burgers, potato wedges, and some veggies while I was there. Plus, breakfast every morning was crepes with chocolate syrup and fruit. Such a welcome break from the monotony. My taste buds were more than satisfied.

And every morning, I got up for the sunrise, since sunsets weren't seen on this part of the island. Every morning it was different. Every morning I marveled at God's handiwork. How awesome He is.

Friday we were able to do another event as a program, and went to a nearby spice farm. Zanzibar is famous for its spices, being known as “the spice island.” We walked around with a guide who showed us various trees and roots, spices and fruits that are used or consumed by me and others nearly everyday, and I had never even known how they were grown or what they look like fresh from the tree. I smelled fresh vanilla and lemongrass, and saw what the nut of nutmeg looks like. I saw not-yet-ripe coffee beans, and new bananas and oranges. A guy from the farm climbed a tree and dropped 3 coconuts for us, and we opened it up and drank its milk and ate the coconut straight from the tree. If I cooked, I would have been enthralled. Even so, I was still really fascinated.

Again, I kept thinking I was dreaming. The ocean I looked out at every day could not be real – someone else had taken a picture of it and I was viewing that. I could not be laying in a hammock, staring up through the branches of five palm trees or watching a shooting star through the fronds while I sat around a campfire. I could not be on a gorgeous island just off the coast of Africa, lounging in a restaurant and enjoying a smoothie. I wasn't laying on a wicker bed frame, dozing as the waves of the Indian Ocean lapped the shore. I was only dreaming that there was fine white sand squishing between my toes. And all of this came included in a program where I pay just as much money to come here as I do to go to school near Chicago? This isn't my life. Dreams are made of this, but not real life.

Of course, this was my real life. I still can hardly believe I got to go on this vacation as part of another longer “vacation” in Africa. If I hadn't actually been there, and experienced this spring break, I'd say it was too good to be true. But it isn't. I went to Zanzibar. And I wanted to stay there. It's always a bummer coming back from spring break, and I was definitely really sad to go. I could have stayed there weeks longer. But of course, I have to face “real” life – school in Africa. If you can count that as real life.

But I am so grateful; I vacationed in Zanzibar! That is crazy. I know I use this expression a lot about what has gone on already this semester, but I feel so blessed to have enjoyed this once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Pre-spring break update

Hey family and friends,

Just a quick update on what's happening in my life. It isn't a long, thought-out one, but rather a blurb to let you know what's going on recently.

First, the honeymoon period is over and many of us are feeling it. Thankfully, overall, the group itself has no huge problems with one another, and I'm still loving the activities we do through the program or in the city. However, due to this experience, I do have a new appreciation for international students and would really like to hug the international students who study at my school at home, ask them their honest opinion of the school and professors, and ask if I can help in any way.

Fortunately, we are all going on a needed break from school for the next week. Because of the elections, Daystar students have classes off on Monday and Tuesday (the election is Monday). It's a big national holiday around here, unlike at home, where all businesses and schools have the day off so that people can go to their homes to vote. However, instead of only taking Monday and Tuesday off, our program is getting out of the country for the whole week. We are headed to the island of Zanzibar. We fly out early Sunday morning and return Saturday. For the first few days, we will be in Stonetown. This is the part of the island that has historical buildings, museums, lots of shops, and restaurants. All these buildings are on one side of our hotel, and the other side is a beach. The rest of the week will be spent staying in “cabins” on the beach (different than the one near Stonetown). It's basically a tropical paradise. Overall, this week should be one of relaxation and fun. Little will be planned by the program, but rather we can decide which activities we want to do. I am looking forward to both aspects of this trip – the town, with its history and markets, and the relaxation and ocean breezes of the beach. I'm not bringing my laptop with me, but I'm sure I'll have a long blog update when I return.

Today I held went into Nairobi, went to New Life home, and held babies most of the day. Tomorrow on the docket is rock climbing.

Keep praying! Pray for the country as they participate in elections Monday; it's a big deal here, and can get pretty intense. There is no clear front-runner at the moment, so anything could happen. The candidates and other world leaders have been emphasizing peace, and we all pray that whatever the outcome everything goes over peacefully. Pray also for me and the rest of the group as we travel, and for our overall attitudes with our situation and actions towards one another. I appreciate all of the people who have been following what has been going on and praying for me and the group! I love you all.

See you after Zanzibar!

Education - you're doing it right, Rosslyn Academy.

I think I may have found the school where I wish to student teach. And, maybe, even, many years down the road, be employed as a teacher there.

We'll see if that dream actually comes true, as it's merely a concept floating in my head right now, but after one day I was blown away by Rosslyn Academy. All day long, as I bounced from class to class, I could imagine myself teaching there someday. Those teachers are worth emulating – they are passionate about their subject, teach it well, employ methods that encourage lifelong learning in their students, keep students engaged, and most importantly they show Christ's love to every student they encounter. As I met up with Jess and Hannah at the end of the day, the best way we could sum up the day was we saw every teaching technique we'd ever been taught used by the teachers, and used in the way it was supposed to be used.

Now that I've blurted out my excitement about this school, let me describe some of the things I saw, experienced, and learned along the course of one school day at Rosslyn.

General facts

Rosslyn Academy is a school for students who come from a variety of cultures and backgrounds, and come to Kenya for a variety of reasons. There's students who are children of business men and women, missionaries' kids, kids whose parents are ambassadors or diplomats, or children of staff who work at the school. All in all, there's a little less than 600 students at the school, and 50 different countries are represented by a combination of students and staff at the school, and each of the 50 flags fly along the path that lead to the main reception area.

Rosslyn was started by a combination of three different Christian denominations – Menonite, Baptist, and Assembly of God. The school heavily emphasizes the Christian worldview, and expects their staff to love Christ and live a life that shines His light. The integration of this worldview in the classes does not mean the reading of a Bible verse every class period. Rather (similar to Calvin Christian or Trinity), it means an integration of the faith into the subject matter – how it's taught, how students discuss, how Christians look at the subject and use their knowledge, and so on.

The environment of the school is beautiful. It was the first thing that impressed us when we arrived. It is built on an old coffee plantation, and the buildings reflect the architecture of the original plantation house which now serves as the administrative building. There are several of these beautifully built buildings spread throughout the campus, serving as classrooms and activity rooms for grades pre-K through 12. One thing I like about these buildings is that moving from class to class requires walking outside, even for a short time, enjoying the beautiful Kenyan weather – no long indoor hallways connecting classes. In fact, the gym is completely outside, built into the ground and covered with a vaulted tin ceiling, but you can stand outside and look down to watch games while enjoying the breeze. These buildings are made even more beautiful by the artwork decorating them. The class of 2010 (woop woop!) gave a class gift of a stained glass mural that they designed themselves, which captures several big ideas of Rosslyn, and nearly every building has student-centered artwork like this, either painted by students or, at least, with students working with the artist.

The school itself is based on an American system of education and teachers have to be certified in North America to teach there. Yet, because of all the diversity, the classes taught aren't simply classes about North America, but rather what will be relevant to these students whose lives are often changing as their parents' jobs shift.

Highlights of my observation

There were lots of methods I noted as done really well. Here's just a few things:

• Teachers didn't give students the answers. They asked question after question, scaffolding the students to the answer. Scaffolding is something education classes harp on, and I really saw it done well in these classes.
• In a 6^th grade social studies class, they were learning about city-states. But they weren't merely learning about them – they were experiencing what a democracy is like and acting as those city-states. The class was split into 2 groups, and 1 group was Sparta the other Athens. They had to create a ledger about the government, trade, geography, and more of their city-state. Plus, they had to act as a democracy, like the governments of Athens and Sparta. This meant everyone's voice had to be heard, which the teacher said was proving to be the most difficult for the students to figure out. But they had to find a method to make that happen, and on the day I was there I saw evidence that both groups had worked out their democratic proceedings quite well.
• Teachers built on the students previous knowledge. It was a method that has been hammered into my brain for all of last semester (“activating the students' schema”), and I saw it done really well in the classes at Rosslyn. Teachers would ask students a question that had to do with what they had learned previously, the students would have to explain that concept, and then the teacher would link it to the new concept.
• Rosslyn has a senior seminar class in which students pick an issue they're really interested in to research. They spend many weeks researching it in order to write a 10-page paper and then make a presentation in front of a board. First of all, I loved this idea. It is preparing these seniors for college in ways that many high schools don't. They will know how to thoroughly research, write extensive papers, and make a formal presentation, placing them far ahead of students who have never been expected to do something like that. Second, I was really intrigued by some of the topics I saw students choosing. There was a vast array of topics, including overpopulation, child labor, tribal traditions (done by a non-African, North American female), illegal immigration, rock and roll, and gay rights (that was one sign I wasn't in a traditional Kenyan school, because most Kenyans don't even want to debate that idea).
• I loved the project they were doing in the U.S. history class I observed. The teacher got the idea from the 8^th grade Language Arts teacher (a teacher I observed as well). The project was the students would create their own version of Lake Wobegon, which was a fictional town created by Garrison Keillor, but based on a real place. This means the students choose a U.S. city or town and research the historical facts about this region in a specific era of their choosing. They then write a fictional short story about characters in a town that is based on their historical findings of a real place. Combining writing with history? My dream!
• The 8^th grade Language Arts class had just finished reading The Outsiders, and had been studying 2 vocab lists – both vocabulary words and slang words used in the book. The teacher decided to liven this up by having the students create poems, songs, or raps using at least 10 of the words. They performed them in class, and they were so amazing! To have middle schoolers up in front of their peers, shamelessly rapping and singing, was an awesome achievement in itself, and the raps and songs were also really well written.

What was most impressive about all of these was how engaged the students were the entire time. It's rare to see a class full of students so completely engaged for an entire class period, every one enthusiastic about what is going on; and I saw six period's worth. They didn't begrudgingly answer questions, but rose to the challenge and found the answers for themselves. I can imagine other high schoolers just brushing off the history project as “dumb” or just getting by with the bare minimum, but these students were pumped about it and in their discussions already had some pretty cool character and plot ideas. The eight graders were encouraging every student who got up in front of class, creating a safe environment that they could be confident and have an awesome experience that engages them with the text more than a test or report would. This students owned their learning – they were not just passive spectators, but actively engaging, which will foster learning of the subjects beyond just the next test.

Praising the diversity

Like I said, this is a diverse school, filled with 50 different nationalities. Rosslyn engages in fostering that diversity in many ways. While I was there, I saw the following acts of encouragement of culture:

• In the 8^th grade class, one student rapped in Spanish. Did the teacher look down on it because everyone else had written in English? No. He praised the student's culture, saying something along the lines of “now what was so cool about that rap was...” and then explaining what he found fascinating about what the student had done. He built the student up for using what he knows to create something unique.
• Since I was in a U.S. history course, at the end of the day I wanted to know if there were other history courses that looked at other nationalities. I love my country, but I would hate to see students who are from a different culture having to learn about the States and not their own country and culture, especially since they're studying in Africa. I was pleased to hear that there are several other history courses offered, including history of Kenya as well as history courses in Asian, European, or African history. In fact, the U.S. history course is only required to graduate if a student holds a U.S. passport. The reason they want these students to have a history in the United States is that if they go back, which many of them do, or if they decide to attend college there, they will have a knowledge of the country and not feel quite as out of place around their peers who have grown up there their whole lives. But the variety of history courses shows the school values each student's background.
• The middle school students have written and are now performing a play. This was one of the first things I heard about and I nearly fell over with excitement... middle schoolers writing and producing a play? This is so great! This play, as it was described to us, is about interactions between different cultures on campus. The students had been asked to pick a topic that was important to them, and this was their choice. How great is it that students choose to explore their diversity? I think this shows that students feel safe and that they can embrace the differences around them.

In case you can't tell, I think this school is great. I wasn't able to see the high school English teachers on this day, because they were planning curriculum. However, I am really hoping to go back there this semester so that I can sit in on those teachers as well and continue to experience observing all the great teachers that Rosslyn employs.

If you want to learn more, visit the Rosslyn Academy website: http://rosslynacademy.org/ I'm already learning more just in my brief visit to the site to send you all the link!

I'm sorry that this post is kind of stream of consciousness, but I hope it shows just how amazed and encouraged this school made me. I now know that everything that I've been taught can be done well and it really works if the teacher does it correctly. It requires a commitment out of the teachers and a true passion for what they're doing – those teachers would no be so engaging if they themselves weren't completely in love with what they were teaching. But it's possible. I want to be a teacher like that.

The Children of Athi River

Greetings again from Kenya!

This past week has been more normal (in a sense... as normal as any of this trip can be). Yet I had two interesting experiences relating to children and education.

As an education student at Trinity, I need to get 200 observation hours before senior year. Getting the rest of my observation hours in Kenya has been one of the things I've been looking forward to since I learned I was coming on the trip. On Thursday afternoon I walked down the road with Hannah, the student teacher from TCC who is on the trip with us, to the school where she's been teaching. It is an elementary school, but I was told to try it out because they do go through grade 8 (and I can observe anything above grade 6). Hannah warned me it was going to be a lot different than the United States. Here's some of the things I observed in the short afternoon I was there:

School environment

The physical environment of this school is very different than any school I have ever attended or observed in. It's a sparse playground, mostly just dirt and rocks, and the kids make up their own games. When I walked up (to points and a child yelling “there's two of them now!” I don't think they're used to mzungu teachers coming by), some were rolling tires, others were in circles holding hands and playing some sort of game, and others were just running around. I found out in the classroom later that the trees that dot the area were planted by students. The building is made up of what looks like tin walls and wood beams. That's all. There's several doorways along the front, and each that you walk into leads to two classrooms. There isn't even a full wall in between the two classrooms, so the teachers have to essentially battle to be heard. In the two classrooms I visited, the walls were pretty bare compared to the often bright, colorful posters and sayings that surround classrooms at home. They don't have whiteboards, but chalkboards, and the “duster” (eraser) is a piece of foam.

Students and teachers

There aren't multiple classes of each grade level like there are at home, so there are 8 classes total (not counting “baby class”). Those classes aren't very large – class 6 has 9 students, class 7 has 8 , and class 8 only has 3. When I was there, there were about 4 or 5 teachers – total. And that was more than what sometimes come. Hannah teaches class 3, something she was doing already within the first week. I don't know how I'd feel coming to a different culture, then being thrown into the fire to be in charge of a class all by myself within the first week of student teaching; but Hannah is great. She did warn me to emphasize that I'm not a teacher yet, or I could also find myself in charge. Even with telling the teachers numerous times that I wasn't a teacher, but a student in university, one still asked me “so where do you teach?” after the third time I had told him I'm not a teacher.

Most of the teachers sort of bounce around, floating from grade to grade and subject to subject. I was able to stay with “Teacher Georgina” for observation, and went from seventh grade social studies to sixth grade math. Not exactly the observation I'm used to, but it's still upper grades, still teaching, and still beneficial.

The teaching in the school is mostly verbal lecturing. Yet, I noticed that students verbally respond far more often than they do in the schools I have seen. After nearly every sentence, Georgina might pose a question such as “eh?” or just pause and the students would all say “yes” in unison – not in a cheesy way, but an affirmation. However, no notes are taken during the lecture. Instead, students silently take notes from the reading after the teacher has finished speaking. That's different than my own personal methods, but that's how it's done here.

As far as materials, there are few. The teacher actually asks students to see their textbook they have been taking notes from and uses that as reference for her lecture. Some classes don't even have enough books for each student to have one. When I was their age, there was a surplus of books and anything else I might need my parents were able to buy or the school provided. It's crazy how blessed we are, simply because we were born in the U.S.

I will probably not end up doing most of my observation hours there, but it was a good experience. There is so much pressure on the students here. Everything is test-based (I can hear my education professors cringing a little). The kids take one test in eighth grade to determine if they will go to high school. Everything they learn in the years leading up to it are aiming towards this test. The same goes for high school – one test and they go to university. Though I haven't asked anyone yet, my Kenyan peers could tell me the grade they got in high school – no, not grades, but grade. Because that one grade on the test is all that matters. Even here, many courses have a final that's worth over 50% of the grade. For a girl who has taken very few tests in college (yay for having an English major) this is completely different. And imagine if all my life was centered around these large tests. Sure, we have the ACT, but a whole lot more is considered when you apply to college. Imagine I was just having one bad day. Or for students who are ridiculously smart but are just not great at taking tests. Imagine they don't get into college, or high school even. Imagine!

When asked what they want to be when they grow up, Joshua and Michael, boys without biological parents of their own, both have the first response of “a dad.”

A couple days after I observed in the classrooms, Hannah was telling me and some others about a children's home down the street from the school. She had known about it, as there are 11 children from the home who attend Mulandi where she works. She was invited there at the end of the week, and told she would be welcomed back with any friends who wanted to come. Coincidentally, it ended up being the three education majors – Hannah, Jess, and I – who trekked down the road on Sunday afternoon. The home is called Red Rhino, and was established just about five years ago. It was started by a guy named David, whom we were able to meet and talk with. He is originally from California, though he now stays in Kenya. He was originally an English teacher in the States (yeah, English teachers!) but when he came to Kenya with a friend found he wanted to do something for the children he saw living in the streets. He said the home took several years to complete, but it is a very tidy and beautiful place. Shoes are removed before entering buildings, hands are washed often, and all of the buildings are well-built and very organized. I was really impressed with how nice the entire compound is.

Most of the kids are under ten, though the oldest is 16 and there are some who are between 11 and 14. They are very polite and loving. We arrived before they returned from church, but when they came back many greeted us with hugs. “Mama” Joy, an Irish woman who comes as a volunteer as many times as she can, set us to the task of keeping the kids entertained while lunch was being made. We played with some of the toys they brought out such as puzzles, coloring pages, cars, and more. Some of the kids thought it would be fun to test me on my math skills, so wrote out some math problems to solve then marked them as correct or not. I taught a couple of the girls how to spell my name. After lunch, the kids had a dance party, and before we left the three of us joined in. Some of those kids have some pretty sweet moves, including Michael whom I danced with.

Some of the kids served as our “gentleman” for the afternoon. Two gentleman-ly boys, Steven and Michael, led us on tours through the compound. Those kids fold their clothes better than I do and make their beds neater as well! Michael and another boy named Joshua then ate lunch at the “special” table with us. The lunch was so tasty, and it kept coming – after the main course, there was also juice, sweets (candy), and cupcakes. I enjoyed the meal there better than I do the meals we have at Daystar. The older girls also helped serve the meals. We found out from David that after their tenth birthdays, the kids have more responsibilities placed on them. I think this is a good idea, as life skills and responsibilities will lead to better lives and a good preparation for the future.

Essentially, I loved spending time at Red Rhino. David has such a big heart and you can tell how much he really cares. The kids are cute, kind, and fun to be around. It didn't matter that they didn't know us – they were pulling us to come play with them and speaking with us as though they were 100% comfortable in our presence. I really hope I can go back to spend some more afternoons there in the next two and a half months.

If you want to learn more about Red Rhino, here is the link to their website: http://www.rrop.org/

Friday Jess and I are headed into the city to observe some Christian schools. It's going to be a long day – 5 am departure, with a return time that is TBD – but I am really excited for this opportunity. I knew when I left that what I saw in schools here may forever impact how I teach and view education, and I continue to believe that. God is going to show me amazing things through the kids who live a couple miles away and the students in the schools where I observe. I'm keeping my eyes wide open.

4 week check in

Entering the 4th week...

What I'm still getting used to:

• Lack of personal bubbles. I haven't had a problem with most of the people I meet. Hugs, handshakes, high fives – I am totally cool with that, and that's how most people I encounter greet me. But there are some encounters that I have been a little taken aback, even being the touchy-feely person I am. My love language is physical touch, but because of American culture even I am startled when a complete stranger's is pressed against me in the lunch line and I feel her breath on my neck, or when I'm waiting for pizza and the stranger beside me sits so close our thighs are touching and she is nearly tapping my stomach with her elbow when she moves. Nothing is wrong with this style, it's just a different culture than the hands-off, stay-out-of-my-bubble culture I have known.
• Kenyan time. I would have thought I was used to it by now. And to an extent, I sort of am. I don't worry about getting to my classes on time. When I'm told we're leaving at 5, I expect it to be closer to 5:30. However, on Saturday, I found that there's still a part of me that feels anxious when things don't run on time. A smaller group of us were heading into the city for the day, and both ways I was squirming waiting for the bus to just go. When I arrive at the bus before 9, and the engine starts up at 9, I figure it's going to leave close to 9 (guess again). Or when we get on the bus at 3, I don't expect to sit there until 5:00. It's a process, but the attitude of time as a flexible unit is still setting in for me.
• Bartering. Saturday I had my first experience with bartering. We went to the Masai Market, a big market in downtown Nairobi that sells African-made products. Except you have to barter for the price, and mzungus are easy targets for which the sellers jack up the prices. I bartered my way into a couple souvenirs, but I found out I'm not super good at it. Not compared to some of my other mzungu friends – they were rocking it.

What I miss most about home:

• The people. Just... everyone. Friends at Trinity, friends at home, professors, family. I have a strong community and I miss you all. I like the people who are here, and I'm happy, but there's some really solid people back in the U.S. that I often wish were with me sitting in the sun, or cruising on a motorcycle, or watching monkeys, zebras, and giraffes, or bouncing along in the bus on the way to some adventure, or any of the other experiences I am soaking in.
• Food. I have so many cravings for food from America. I think I especially crave variety. I never was a girl who refused to eat a similar dish twice in a row, but every single meal being nearly the same is not pleasing to me. Especially when I don't love the dish anyway. I want a slushie, some good baked goods, fast food, pasta... Just about anything but dry beef (or fried chicken) and rice.
• Freedom. This partially is freedom due to having a car. I can't just drive myself where I want to go here. I don't have friends who can just drive us somewhere. But more so it's freedom around campus. The hostels don't have visiting hours where mixed genders can hang out in the same room (or even courtyard). There is not really a common lounge area that is available for playing cards or just hanging out and talking once the sun goes down. We have to find a lighted place or just say goodnight. We also must be back in our hostels by 11. Having a curfew is one of my least favorite things. I would like to stay up, watching the stars, playing cards, or just chatting until I'm tired. There's little to do back in the room. Essentially, night time is when I especially feel the lack of freedom.
• Events on campus. Save for two campus events, Daystar hasn't had very many events, and zero goes on during the weekend. In fact, campus pretty much shuts down, which isn't fun for those who stick around. As I heard about the blacklight dance, Trollway to Love, and floor outings I recognized how I miss having those fun things to do.
• Theatre. I miss being involved with a community within the community. It may be claimed that it's my fault, and I should find something to do, but from what I have looked around and found, there's not much that fits my niche. The committees are nice enough, but I'm not passionate about what they're passionate about. Many groups are associated with musical talent, and though I enjoy music, I don't have enough talent to join these incredibly talented people. Call me stuck in a rut, but I would like to have a theatre group I could be a part of – working behind the scenes, maybe even auditioning (they'd probably find it a riot to have a mzungu up on stage). I want to see what theatre is like in Kenya. But I have yet to see or hear about any such theatre group.

What I don't miss about home:

• Snow. I got my fill in the week before I left. A week's worth will hold me over until next year. I can live with constant sunshine and breezes.
• Prices. I have realized how expensive things are at home. In my first supermarket trip, I spent about 7 U.S. dollars. While in town, I found 7 items at a shop and paid a total of about U.S. $3.70. The first $50 I exchanged just got used up last week, and I have been buying food, gifts, and so on. That would never happen in America. That $50 would disappear so quickly. So I'm happy with the prices here.
• Not having much within walking distance. This is a complicated one. On the one hand, I miss my car and getting places easily. Yet, I'm going to be honest – I am getting used to and don't mind walking places. I know my family and friends are keeling over with shock. We can get to the pool, several shops, schools, a children's home, and some restaurants walking from Daystar's campus. In Nairobi, hop off the bus and walk down one street to find everything you could need. I'm not a walker, but I know that walking is good for me and I think I might miss being able to take a walk down the road to places that I want to go. This may mean that between camp schedules, I may actually try walking to Jess's house to swim, something I've only pondered before. But don't get too excited – I'm not walking super far, I'm doing it at a leisurely Kenyan pace, and I'm doing it with friends (that means friends, you also need to try walking with me). Otherwise I'll get sick of it really quickly.
• Cold weather. Again, I could live with this Kenyan weather rather than the cold. When Africans ask me if I like the weather, they often complain about how hot it is. But I am loving it. Bring on the 80s and sunshine.
• Rush and busy-ness. It seems contradictory to my above “getting used to Kenya time” statement. But it is kind of nice sometimes to walk more slowly or to know you aren't going to be in trouble for being a little late. It's more about the journey than the need to get there. I have had some great times walking from one place to another, laughing, telling anecdotes, or sharing our hearts. Plus, I like the less busy life I lead here. I wish I had more involvement in something like a theatre group, sure, but I have read two books in a couple of weeks, just for fun, for the first time since high school. I have sat in the PAC playing cards, singing with people, laughing, or chatting and not felt the pressure to go finish homework. It's a great feeling, and the free time may not last all semester, but I'm soaking it up.