Free-writing and changing school

I start every AS Language class with a free writing prompt and my students have to write for 4-5 minutes straight in response. They don't all love it and still at times groan when I tell them to take their journals out (you would have thought by Week 4 they would realise the daily routine but they're teenagers) but sometimes they write really beautiful, clever, quirky responses. Sometimes not. But sometimes.

I've known, since student teaching, that it is a good idea to join your students in writing. To show them that you value writing too and model it for them. But I've hardly ever done this. This is something I'm trying to change. One small way is to join this class in every writing prompt they do. And I'm finding that I really enjoy it. I love writing. I wish I was more disciplined to make time for it in my regular life. At the end of 5 minutes we have a sharing time and volunteers read their writing. They all have to do it at least once in the term but the more enthusiastic writers or sharers share frequently and I think this also helps those less inclined to be creative or fluent as they hear fairly decent, original writing out loud. Sometimes they ask me to share and I always do. I think they enjoy that too. The other day I shared mine even though they didn't ask and that was because it was important to me, and to them. So I thought I'd share it with you to. Remember, it is free-writing, unedited or perfected.


If I could change school. For Real!
I would make it full of students who wanted to learn. Who had love and joy of learning for learning's sake. Who were interested and engaged. Who didn't have to be motivated by what was going to be in the exams. I think I might abolish exams too. What else? I would get rid of hierarchies and privilege and respect for privilege's sake. I would have every person from the so-called bottom to the so-called top be treated with equal respect and dignity. No one would ever be humiliated. I would make it a place where every person felt safe, no matter who they were or what they had done. I would make it a place where every teacher always loved to teach because they loved their subject and their students and every student loved to learn. Just because.


Maybe this will grow into a well-thought through blog post one day. For now, it is freeing to just call it free-writing and end.

Bereavement: a soul report

I'm taking an Intermediate Counselling Course this year at the Harare Christian Counselling Centre. One of the course requirements is to read 4 of their (I asked) books and write a book report on it. I planned on it being a very "check-the-box-done" kind of assignment but, go figure, it was challenging, difficult and worldview-affecting. Ahem, humility is a lesson I will be learning all my life.

Bereavement: a Shared Experience by Helen Alexander

I found this book difficult to read. As someone who reads, studies and teaches books for a living, this may seem odd, but it is true. When I started reading, I appreciated the practical advice and philosophical ideas about the stages of grief, the right to mourn, saying goodbye and the importance of remembering/formalising someone’s passing.

But as the chapters became more specific, focusing on the different kinds of death – sudden, taboo, of a spouse, of a child – I found I could not read large sections of the book at a time, particularly as each section included real experiences of real people in real grief in their own words. I found it draining and emotional. I have been privileged to have never lost a person close to me, so bereavement is not a process I feel I can personally relate to. I have also not started my own family yet. The thought, however, of losing someone who has become an integral and important part of my life, is terrifying. I found myself questioning the desire and wisdom of marriage and of children in the light of so many awful, harrowing possibilities of loss and pain. I do not know how people who have loved so deeply and lived for so long with another person can survive and move on with their life. And that was, essentially, what this book was about—listening to, sharing in and learning from the experiences of those who had gone through, or were going through, the depths of grief. In all of these, I realised the importance of support, for a long time after the death—something I feel we, as communities, loved ones and the church, are often not good at sustaining. In this broken world, when faced with the hard, confusing, unjust consequences of sin, surely we are called to be open passages for God’s love to those who need it most, no matter how hard or painful for us personally? To meet someone in their pain—the way Christ met us in our pain—to go there with them—the way Christ went there with us and for us—what greater example and imitation of His love could there be?

In a conversation with my mum about the book and its effect on my thinking about my future, she quoted Shakespeare: “But, Beks, ‘Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all’”. I didn’t think much of this—too cliché! And then I read the final chapter. Thank goodness. Life is a gift that we should cherish and live to the fullest. This means, I think, accepting and entering into the suffering that is part of it. We cannot hide ourselves away from it. Amazingly, strange and contradictory as it may seem, in that suffering we find a richness of life and love that we did not, maybe even could not, know before.

And ultimately, most importantly, we have a Hope and a Peace that surpasses all understanding: death is not the end.

Good teacher = critical learner

Another late addition post.

29 Jan, 2013

This particular post is going to sound pompous, but, the short of it is, I think I’m a decent teacher. I’m growing and learning how to be better (as I will be in twenty years time) but I think I know how to impart information in an interesting way – not all the time, not to every student, not without mistakes – but often. I can read a group that I’m teaching and realize when I’ve lost them and (sometimes) find ways to get them back. I try to be, and pride myself on often being, attuned to the people I teach. I can think of and create a variety of imaginative ways to impart information in an interesting manner. I do not do this every lesson and sometimes not even every week, but I work hard to be engaging and relevant in my delivery of material. I think I am a good teacher, at least some days. Being a some-days good teacher, however, makes me an all-days critical learner. I find that many people who teach who are not teachers (pastors, course instructors, leaders of meetings, etc) teach badly. And I notice. And it is extremely difficult for me, being so awash with thinking about good teaching methods, to learn something from someone who teaches it in such a terrible way. It is even worse when I think, I’m about to be pompous again, I could probably teach the same material better. I find myself critiquing the teaching methods and delivery of material of almost every person who has the misfortune to have me in a learning position. Those I do not critique have won me over. And I learn the most from them. Thinking more about it, there are just a few aspects of teaching that, I think, make all the difference.

1.      You must respect your students and what they bring. It is very easy to tell if you don’t. This should be obvious.

2.      Know when you have lost your students. Don’t continue if you have. 5 minute stretch breaks make the world of difference.

3.      Don’t ask questions with one answer in mind and don’t make it obvious when the previous 3 answers have missed your one answer. This is hard.

4.      Pay attention when your students speak. No joke.

5.      Create a safe space. Respond in a way to every spoken thought in a way that promotes a comfortable, secure place. This is rare.

Familiarity

I haven't been very good about posting this year. I have actually written a couple posts and not posted them... for various reasons. But here they are now.

18 Jan, 2013

One of the best feelings in the world is being comfortably familiar in a place. I am in a place right now where I feel that and it is amazing. I’m starting my third January at the school and my second in hostel. I know my way around, I know how and what to plan for my classes, I know what to expect out of those classes, I can give advice about teaching to new teachers, I know the rules of boarding and can finally answer parent’s questions with confidence. I am in a good place. I feel like I am part of the school. That I’m starting to belong (a key word in my life journey). Which makes me terrified of what I think might be coming. Change. I’ve already admitted a strong fear of it. I want to be in a place I am comfortable. But I cannot stay here forever. Do I want to stay somewhere forever? I think I might. I would like to know what it would be like to be content in a place and a time of life. So much of the last 10 years has been movement. I want to keep growing and creating – that is good movement. But maybe I want to stay still while I do it.

11 Feb, 2013

So since then, I've realised that maybe change is coming, maybe it isn't. Right now, I'm going to enjoy the present. Maybe change isn't coming. Why spoil where I am by worrying about its potential end? Amazing what 3 weeks of thinking can do.

Two weddings and some thoughts

It has been a long time since I’ve posted. One reason is a crazy December of travelling and wedding preparations. Another is, the longer you leave writing, the harder to go back. The third is that I haven’t really been able to come up with a good way to put my thoughts about this very special time of two very important weddings into words. I still don’t think I've found the best way but in this time of change (the giving away and releasing – even though they were not really mine to give away or release I very much did so – of one very dear high school best friend and one very dear younger brother) I've learnt some important things about weddings that I’d like to remember for the future and remind myself of if I ever walk down an aisle.

What is important for a wedding:

·         to be surrounded and supported (for months in advance) by family and people you love and love you back.

·         plenty of family involvement, but not too much.

·         to make meaningful moments of the snatches of time with those who matter most.

·         remembering who’s day it is (not who you would imagine all the time).

·         good singing.

·         just enough tradition to please people, but not enough to get in the way.

·         a couple of surprises.

·         celebration (how it happens is not important).

Finally,

·         the blessing and grace of a Father who gives the presence of a Spirit who spreads a joy that cannot be planned, paid for or coordinated.

And, actually, everything else is really not that important.

S & A, J & B:

may the love of those who

love you most

always surround and support you;

may the meaningful moments,

good singing,

surprises

and celebration

never end.

may the blessing and grace

from a Father

felt in a such tangible way

by so many

on your special day continue to breathe

joy into your every moment.

may His Joyful Presence

never

leave

you.

America the Beautiful

It’s been two and a half years since I left this place. And I have loved moving back to Zimbabwe as an adult and starting a life as a working professional back at home. However, since coming to the States last week for an important wedding I have realized that there are some wonderful things about this country. Things that I appreciate a great deal.

1. Bagels and Philadelphia Cream Cheese. Wow. Such a simple combination of bread and dairy but there is nothing simple about these two. I have missed you, bagel and cream cheese.

2. Highways. Oh the joy of driving down a wide, well-kept road at high speeds. Crossing distances safely and swiftly. I am driving on one right now and preparing to post this blog post online from my bus seat. Yes, my bus has wifi. Did I mention wifi?

3. Free high speed internet. Within my first 5 fours in the country I was sitting in MacDonalds skyping my family. Connection fee? One small fries, thank you.

4. Shops with sales and second hand stores. Oh how I and my wardrobe have missed 50% off sales and clearance racks. Yesterday my sister and I found a coat originally for $50 for $4.98. It didn’t fit either of us (we tried) but we bought it anyway and donated it to the store’s clothing drive.

5. Deep conversations about things that matter. Okay, we get these in Zimbabwe, but somehow I tend to have them more in the US.

6. Variety – in people, things and food.

7. The ease of life. Go out and buy a coat. Get to anywhere in a new town using google maps and a GPS. Plan a meal and go out and buy everything you need for it.

8. Good coffee almost anywhere.

And, yet, there are things that I have not missed that also came crashing back very soon after touching down.

1. The feeling that, even though my outside and passport fits in here more than they sometimes do at home, I am a stranger here and that feeling of not quite belonging in large groups of Americans is uncomfortable and sometimes hard to deal with.

2. The way I can’t help my voice changing, ever so subtly, so that people can understand my accent a bit easier. My t’s become d’s, my r’s a little thicker.

3. The way it is so easy to spend money here.

4. Too much choice! That’s another reason my commitment to clearance racks (and vegetarianism!) is so handy.

5. Waste. Of food, space, money and the blindness to it.

6. Bad tea almost everywhere.

Zimbabwe, and Me

I've read two excellent pieces of writing within the last week about Zimbabwe, place and white people and I've consequently been thrown back in time to memories of my own thinking of these topics almost three years ago as I worked through my honours thesis on the topic of white unbelonging.

I've just finished "Shame: confessions of an aid worker in Africa" by Jillian Reilly (2012). A fascinating read. She retells her experiences living in South Africa and Zimbabwe in the 1990s and coming to terms with the truths and horrors of trying to "do good" in places she didn't understand and wasn't ever completely let into or part of.

Over the weekend I read another very well written piece, "Being Accepted at Home", yet to be published, by my sister. I'll post the link to the article once it wins the competition it was written for. The essay was supposed to be about assumptions changed and challenged, or something like that. She wrote about her own story realising her whiteness and the historical and present implications of it as a Zimbabwean living both in and outside Zimbabwe.

I would do both these pieces injustice if I tried to summarise them here. The point is they made me think, as good writing should. Being back in the US for a brief spell has made me remember all the things I actually like about this place (another post about that) but has also very quickly reminded me about what I struggled so much to live with living here. I am so comfortable, almost content, almost flourishing at times, in my life at home right now. Everyone I meet asks when I will be leaving Zimbabwe. What are my plans for the future. I don't have any right now. Vague ideas but no plans and, though I'm not sure how it will happen or what it will look like, I'm beginning to realise that I don't want to leave Zim. I'm beginning to find a place there and the nervous, apologetic feelings of feeling out of place and like I'm intruding in my own country are slowly being replaced by a confident, sure, sometimes angry belief -- that's not quite the right word but it will have to do for now -- that I do have a right to belong, maybe to flourish, there. That no one can tell me that I don't.