Opening eyes: a beginning

This year, as you may have noticed if you have read any of my blogs since January, has been a bit difficult. It has been wonderful in many ways too, but with a particularly snooty, prejudiced L6 Language class and a crazy schedule that leaves little time to be creative I've wondered, again, why I'm here at this time. Here I should insert that I am so grateful for this job. It is teaching me a great deal about teaching and people and myself, and it is a privilege to have such a good job in a country where 70-80% of the population is out of work. I am grateful. But I find myself increasing frustrated at the attitudes of many of my students towards those outside their circle - generally a wealthy, upper-class circle. And I wonder why I'm here in this privileged place with a privileged job. At the beginning of my time at this school, I decided that one of the reasons was to try to open the eyes of some of the students in my class to the world of the other around them.


This holidays I got in touch with Rafiki Girls Centre, an organisation that meets in our church and provides practical skills education to 16-18 year old girls who have, for various reasons--financial, ability--not been able to pass or write their O-Level exams. Acting as the equivalent of a high school diploma, this exam decides the future employment, training or education opportunities for students in Zimbabwe. The Centre takes in 2 intakes of about 15 girls every year and they each choose a practical course to follow: catering and hospitality, cosmetics, cutting and design, hairdressing, and others. Most of the girls have lost at least one of their parents and many look after younger siblings. I spent the holidays thinking and planning how I could create a lesson that would open the eyes of my L6 Language students (the same age as the Rafiki Girls) even just a little to the lives of other young women who, due to no fault or action of their own, are in very different circumstances. Rafiki very kindly agreed to allow my students to come and interview their girls. After a couple weeks of writing good interview questions and preparing them to ask and listen well, and giving them a few hard talks about leaving their superior attitudes in the bus and going with open minds and ears, we went to Rafiki on Wednesday.


My girls were nervous but excited. I was just nervous. Although I had tried hard to prepare them well, I was terrified that my girls would not take this seriously and that the impact of it would fall flat. I knew they would be outwardly polite, but I was concerned that inwardly nothing would change or be moved. I was (am) under no false illusions that this one conversation would lead to radically changed attitudes and worldviews and that their superiority and prejudice would just magically fall from their hearts and minds as they listened. But I hoped that it might be a beginning. That they would be challenged. That they would meet, talk and listen to a real person who belonged to the group they had such strong opinions about. It is a lot harder to hold to certain beliefs and attitudes about yourself and an other when the other tells you her story. Stories are hard to argue with. There was a lot at stake. But I was not in control. And oh how I love to be in control. So, I was praying hard.


And it went so well.


I cannot see into hearts (thank goodness) but as I stood watching discreetly in the doorway of the large hall where pairs of girls sat, talking, listening, and laughing together, pairs who would never have exchanged greetings, never mind life stories in our segregated world, I felt so grateful, and so hopeful.

The actual writing assignment part of the lesson hasn't even happened yet (and that could still flop), but in my eyes, that part is of minor importance.

My most sit-at-the-back, homework-skipping, uncaring student (who had just given a presentation the lesson before where I cringed at some of the stereotypical language callously coming out her mouth) came up to me afterwards,
"Miss Bell, can we do this again? It was SO fun!"
Another said she was "humbled".
I eavesdropped on two of my students in the bus on the way home and heard them exchange stories.
My deputy head had some of my students for a lesson after we got back and wrote me an email, "Congratulations and thank you for opening the girls eyes as well as inspiring them. You have made such a great impact on them and have changed the way some of them view the world."

Any good that came/comes wasn't me. Only God changes hearts and minds, and hopefully this is a small beginning towards mind/heart change.

Words are powerful; you can't argue with someone's story.