Friday 15th September 2011
I thought I was big enough to go to school by myself like Martin, but no I was accompanied by Khatia my host daughter and had to call for her friends along the way and be part of the calling out to boys groups as well. Oh those were the days, teasing boys on the way to school haha. It was just as embarrassing then as it was now. Not sure if it was something to do with the fact that I got lost coming back from school yesterday or what but I might have to start coming into school very early.
I had it easy yesterday, a welcome presentation, shaking 168 sweaty little hands and a bunch of roses. Today was a different story. The timetable has been completed! Teachers are given a torn off bit of paper with their timetable on and by the time I arrive, Juliette has drawn me out my very own version with the lessons I will be working with her. The government have stated that volunteers are only meant to be working with grades 1 to 6 as these are the grades that teacher’s books and student books have been newly purchased for. The books however have not arrived yet. I am happy to work with older students and Juliet very much wants me to work with her older students and so for “today I will introduce you to the older classes”. There are 12 lessons I am officially allowed into with Juliette and when Katie arrives I see that there are another 4 classes that I am officially allowed into. Like Juliette, Katie is also anxious that I teach her older classes as well, particularly as there are new online exams (less cheating) in English that the year 11s have to take at the end of June next year.
I have a full teaching timetable today – 6 lessons of 45 minutes each with a 5 minute break in between. Here the children stay in the classroom and the teachers move around and I am led around and stared at and smile inanely and do as I am told. We are meant to be planning lessons together and be co-teachers where one may lead and the other support then vice versa. However this is what happened. We go into the classroom and engaged in enthusiastic “hellos and good mornings”. Juliette says “Blah Blah Blah McMillan, I am telling them about the books. Blah Blah Blah Jennifer Beels” and she turns to me and smiles. “It is your turn” By this she means ‘Now teach the lesson’ So I do. We do “My name is Jennifer, what’s your name?’ and question and answer sessions. I ask how many brothers and sisters they have and they ask me how old I am. Fair dos. In another class I teach them all the moves to do ‘Simple Simon’. I the last lesson she does the same routine and then adds “This is their first ever English lesson – make it fun” With this heavy responsibility I bring out my piece de resistance – fluorescent alien ball with tongue poking out and bright light ball inside. They laughed anyway. Questioning Georgian style means being shouted at to stand up, give the right answer and if you get it wrong shouted at again. Only the ones who are going to get it right are given enough time to answer a question and most of the class are left to sit there not participating at all. Now they had to catch a bright glowing creature and throw it back to me with the answer. Everyone wanted to be asked a question and they also got a chance to throw something at a teacher. Win-win situation really. Anyway fun was had and touchingly, one of the little cuties (they are truly edible) came into the staffroom at the end of school just to tell someone, anyone, how much he loved English and he’d thought he would hate it. Does this happen in the real world? I mean in English schools. It is so gratifying.
I was shattered by the end of the day. The timetable turns out to only be temporary as they didn’t include art and music. So who knows what or even when I will be doing it. When will the teacher’s books arrive? As ever in Georgia you never know what is round the corner.
That night, coincidently, both Martin and I had ‘End of the world’ dreams. As you know, I love my dreams and interpretation thereof but I will spare you this time. But just to say that Martin’s was about an insect that looked pretty innocuous but could eat its way through anything, rapidly destroying all in its path. Mine was like a disaster movie ‘Independence Day’ it starred Jeff Bloomberg as the man who had survived an earth attack where all the statues came alive and then 17 years later was still living off the story; but this character had a deep underlying sorrow. Oops I haven’t spared you after all. Because despite my glib remarks and humorous little stories, the reality is that the school is hanging on by a thread financially. It is in terrible physical shape, there is no money for anything, kids write very little down, so there is nothing to refer back to, so are limited to what they can memorise, no facilities; the gym is still waiting for windows – the rest of school has new windows but no heating. The walls are painted grey and are badly peeling. It is the same for Martin’s school and this is a familiar story across the country according to our teaching colleagues. The kids don’t complain at all and are really co-operative and generally happy. The teachers moan but just get on with it. Martin’s dream reflected the fragility of the education system and mine a deep sorrow for all involved as they are really struggling. I just want to make it a bright, stimulating environment to learn in but I can’t.
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