Daniel Dit

Having just finished my 4^th full week of actual teaching, I’d like to think I’ve learned a thing or two about education.

• Don’t expect students to write something down, unless you explicitly tell them too.
• Do follow through on threats of lost points for cheating
• Don’t think that because no one is asking questions, everyone understands the directions for the TPC (Trabalho Para Casa)
• And, perhaps most importantly, be sure to keep the lessons both informative and fun.

That’s why I have been looking forward to this week’s vocabulary topic: body parts. Beyond being able to tell my students “met ton fesse dans cette chaise maintenant!” (put your ass in that chair now!), it also meant that I could teach them one of my favorite games: Simon Says. But since it’s going to be in French, I knew that “Simon Dit” needed the brilliant linguistic powers of alliteration to have the same level of catchiness. Rolling through possible names in my mind, I saw the immense impact this decision would have. They don’t own twister. I can’t imagine they play “Pin the Tail on the Burro”. And it could be a while before Mr. Patata Cabeca is widely available in this country. This is going to be the defining body part related game for most of these students! I’m not just naming a classroom activity; I’m naming an essential part of their child/adolescent/adult-hood.

With the heavy weight of this decision resting on my shoulders, I thought about every name starting with “D” and its significance. Doris wouldn’t Portugafy well. Desmund goes hand in hand with Tutu. Deborah has too much history. Dylan belongs to Bob. Each name presented association problems that disqualified it. Then it came to me. How could I not have thought of it before? The learning-body-parts-in-French game should be known by the name of the French speaking father of the teacher who introduced it: my dad Daniel Bar.

Having now put this mission critical question to bed, I proceeded to draw up my teaching tool on papel gigante (giant paper), list the body parts I wanted to identify in egnlish, find them in my Portuguese dictionary, find them in my French dictionary, and copy them down. After a quick review to be sure I would remember where le talon (heel) and le poignet (wrtist) are, it was off to my 3 night classes.

Normally I expect my night classes to be quiet and slow. Getting my mostly tired and uninterested adult students to participate is like pulling teeth. But this time, they were animated, participatory, and engaged. Though I thought that the lesson would take the full hour and a half, students were so involved that we breezed through the material and were out in an hour. On the next day, I played Daniel Dit in my 3 afternoon classes. As opposed to the night classes, these students are mostly curious and excited teenagers, where class participation has never been a problem. So when I tell you that the resulting competitive atmosphere made the lessons a little too exciting at points, you should know that I’m not some old curmudgeon yelling at “them darn kids”. During my last and final lesson, I ended up have to draw a line on the floor with chalk, just so that the crowd of students trying to push forward wouldn’t overrun my position at the blackboard.

Next week we’re staring each lesson with a “Daniel Dit” contest, where if you mess up, you sit down. Last man (or woman) standing has been promised a prize, I thinking one of the precious fun-sized Snickers I brought with me. Maybe I Body ask Tojo to escort me to class in case things get out of hand….

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Coco and Poco update: They said it wasn't possible. I thought it had reached its zenith. All indication showed that it was all downhill from here. But Poco has proven me wrong. She can, and will, get cuter and more adorable every day. Forgetting the times where she pees on my floor, her infinite curiosity and playfulness make her a pleasure to have in the house. And now that I’ve finally gotten the smell out of the sheets, I’m very pleased with Coco’s surprise.

The Wok and the Boy

Once upon a time there was a wok. And this wok, unlike all the other woks, was sitting unused on the sandy steps of a Loja (store) in Alto Molocue, and it was lonely. No one wanted to use it to make delicious food, and it just sat on the step all day getting dusty. Then one day, a lovely boy from New Jersey, who happened to be living in the town, found the wok. He wanted the wok so bad, but didn’t have the money to pay for it, so he had to leave the wok on the sandy step. The wok was very sad, for once again it was alone to just sit on the sandy step all day getting dusty. But two days later, who should show up, but the lovely boy from New Jersey! No sooner than you could say “I’m gonna eat so much fried rice, it’s ridiculous,”  the wok had been washed, paid for, and put in the backpack of the lovely boy from New Jersey. After a short and dark trip, the wok arrived at the lovely boy from New Jersey’s house, and they made egg fried rice happily ever after.

The End

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Coco and Poco Update: The newly named Poco (misspelling of little) has opened her eyes and is walking around. Yesterday, I mistakenly decided to give Coco her dinner while she was feeding Poco. The moment I put the bowl of food on the ground, Coco stood up, walked over, and began to eat, Poco still attached. After maybe a second of hang time, Poco dropped to the ground with a squeak, being forced to wait to eat by height limitations.

Arrive Late? Dance

Directors and Students

It started two weeks ago on the official dia de abertura (opening day) for the Escola Secundaria Geral de Alto Molocue. There, the directors of the school, many of the teachers, and a modest handful of students gathered under the trees behind the school for some speeches, songs, announcements, and all around pomp. Afterwards, we moved next to the main group of classrooms for a little pep talk from the director of the school, and my neighbor. Once he introduced the 3 new teachers (myself, another French teacher, and an English teacher), we than ran through the two rows of teachers that had formed, being hit on the head by each teacher as we passed. I love welcoming rituals. And then, that was it, we were dismissed.

Teachers and Students

Though I hadn't understood much of what was going on, it became apparent that this wasn't the actual start of school. Maybe it was that only 30 or so teachers were there, when I knew there were upwards of 80. Maybe it was that many of the speeches were using the conditional form when talking about the school, such as “this year , we will have three new teachers.” Or maybe it was that we still hadn't made a school schedule, formed turmas (classes), or received supplies. Either way, the opening day was really just a tease.

Over the next two weeks, I did a lot of hanging around and waiting. Waiting for the turmas to be formed so I could make the schedule. Waiting for the teachers to be told of their assigned classes so we could address any conflicts that arose. Waiting for my students to find out their schedule so that they would actually attend class. Waiting for the school handyman to figure out how to open the locked door to my classroom so I can try to teach the 5 students who showed up. Waiting, waiting, waiting.

And then, class time! This Monday January 30, 2012 at 7:20 PM Mozambique Standard Time (MST?), a minute that will forever remain in infamy, I finally became a teacher. The students of 11 A/B courso de noite (night classes) were my first victims. Since this is night school, most, if not all, of the students are older than me. But instead of trying to find the fine line between respecting them as adults and maintaining order, I had resolved that would just treat them as I would any other student and hope they play along. To start this, I introduced myself as Professor Samuel Bar, an American volunteer who arrived in Mozambique 4 months ago who after living in Portugese for all that time is now having to relearn and teach French. Then, I went into my painstakingly prepared “Regras de la Sala”

1.       Nos estamos aqui para aprender, voces como alunos, eu como professor

We are here to learn, you as students, me as professor

2.       Respecta os otrous alunos, so uma pessoa pode falar cada vez

Respect the other students, only one person talking at a time

3.      Si qereria entrar na sala tarde, precisara a danḉar

If you would like to enter the classroom late, you need to dance

As if I had planned it, just as the howls and laughs had died down after I finished writing the third rule, a timid man appeared at the door, looking to enter.

“Licensa, posso entrar la sala?”                                  “Excuse me, can I enter the class?”

“Alunos, que e a regra?                                               “Class, what is the rule?”

“PRECISA DANCAR!”                                                  “Dance monkey, dance!!”

Confused, disoriented, and embarrassed, he tried to make his way to a seat, but I had to establish that my rules weren't to be messed with.

“Nao, nao pode sentar, precisa dancar”           “Nice try buddy, but I’m serious.

                                                                                Dance monkey, dance!”

“Mais, eu nao pode”                                        “Why are you doing this to me?

                                                                                 I’m only a little late”

“Nao pode dancar? Como e possivel?             “Do you think I’m just trying to embarrass you? You 

Todos podem dancar. Ver”                                should know I have no shame. This skinny white kid is 

 gonna show you up and dance in front of the whole  class, and you will stand there and watch till you join  me. Dance monkey, dance!”

Finally he joined me in my little double snap, shoulder roll, and shuffle, and sat down to the cheers, laughter, and wonder of all his colleagues.

After we had all agreed to the rules, we moved on to our first French lesson: greetings.

           Bon Jour/Bon Nuit

           Je m’appelle ___________

           Je suis une etudiante de Franḉais

Every time I said it, they would repeat, gratefully avoiding the need for directions. I then had each student recite each phrase twice by themselves so we could work on pronunciation. Though it took almost 25 minutes to get through the entire 50 person class, it was well worth it. By the end of the lesson, everyone was able to say the phrases and were excited to actually learn a new language on the first day of class.

What seemed like a mili-second after my first class had started, the bell rang signaling my 45 minute lesson was up. By Tuesday night, I had done the lesson 5 more times, with more or less the same reactions from the students, though my Portuguese got cleaner each time and my funny lines were better planned. For a person who loves to retell jokes, regardless of how many times the audience has heard it before, 6 turmas with two lessons a week is like having the best set of stand-up gigs in the world.

So far, being a teacher has been awesome and I can’t wait to try out some of my more ridiculous and entertaining teaching ideas in the future.

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Coco Update: 

The still unnamed pup is alive and has seems to have doubled in size since last week. The naming contest is still open for entries, so keep sending in your double O names.

Show these cats how to do dat down south dance
Dat we learned a lil too fast and bought it to da hood
And got da whole crew askin... 
Teach me how to dougie
Teach me, teach me how to dougie

“Teach Me How to Dougie”- California Swag District

P.S. I have to give my site Mate Dylan credit for the dancing rule. After one of our many delicious dinners, I lamented that I had not yet come up with a good punishment for arriving to class late. He fixed that problem like a pro.