I volunteered at the Junkiri English School in Pharping, Nepal. I taught two classes of fifth graders (11-12 years old). What I taught them is hard to say.
As detailed in my last post, finding the place was an adventure. Once I found it, the adventure continued. A room near the entrance appeared to be the equivalent of a principle’s office, I entered it. No one was inside. A thin, old man who spoke little English and few words in general entered behind me.
We talked at the doorway. He was either the headmaster or the janitor, it was hard to tell. His eyes were red, his clothes were old, I wasn’t sure if he knew what I was doing there, or what he was doing there for that matter.
I explained that Sabin had sent me there to volunteer teach. He nodded and indicated to me to wait there. I stepped back outside the doorway and waited. I watched him walk to a classroom. He spoke to a teacher, then spoke to a gentleman who wore a sweater and glasses. I wasn’t sure what glasses-sweater guy’s role was, but he seemed to know what was going on.
Red-eyed, janitor, principal walked back up to where I was standing. He told me to return the next afternoon. Apparently, they weren’t prepared for me. That was understandable. I thought maybe he’d give me a bit more info, maybe a little instruction on how to prepare, what I’ll be doing... nope. Okay. “I come back tomorrow.” I said.
He nodded.
“Namaste.” I added.
“Namaste.” He mumbled.
The next day I returned. I arrived at 1:30 as instructed. The principal-janitor gestured for me to have a seat in the office. I sat and waited. A few minutes later he came to fetch me. He handed me a dry erase marker and an eraser, then led me outside and handed me off to sweater-glasses guy.
Sweater-glasses guy said, “You go in this room.” He pointed at a classroom. “After... You go in this room.” He pointed at the room next to it.
I nodded. I expected him to walk me into the room, give me an introduction, warm up the crowd... nope. He gestured for me to go. I went. For being an English School, the staff wasn’t demonstrating their skills with great enthusiasm.
The students, ten of them in school uniforms, stood as I entered. In unison, they put their hands to prayer and said, “Namaste.” They said something after that as well. I failed to make out what they said. I hoped and assumed it wasn’t a question. I put my hands to prayer and returned the “Namaste.” They stared at me. No teacher was in the room. I was the teacher.
“Uh, you can sit.” I said.
They sat. I walked further into the room. Their eyes followed me. The classroom was small. The windows were open shutters, the room was stone, the desks were wood. The teacher’s desk was a table with no chair. No worksheet was waiting to be handed out. A goat wandered by outside.
“Hi... I’m...” I said my last name, then figured it was too hard for them so I said, “I’m Chris... Mr. Chris.”
They stared at me.
“I’m from the United States and I’m going to- I’m here to- I’m going to- ...Does anyone know where the United States is?” Some of them smiled enthusiastically and shook their heads negative, others stared.
I drew a rough representation of a map of the U.S. on the dry erase board. I asked if they recognized it? Yes? No? Ok.
I pointed out Ohio. “LeBron James? Basketball? No?” It became clear they weren’t catching what I was throwing. I pulled out my phone and had them gather round. I showed them where we were and where I was from. They liked that. I had them return to their desks.
In my past experiences substitute teaching, I’d wowed my audience by asking all of their names, then reapeating all the names back to them afterward. This one always sealed my command of the crowd. Prepare to be wowed by the bad-ass American teacher with the awesome memorization skills, polite little Nepalese children. I started with the child closest to me in the front row. “What’s your name?” I asked.
“Astrayer” Said the child.
I didn’t quite catch it, “Aster?”
“Astrayer!” The child said louder and smiling.
“Astaire?”
“Ash-Try-Air.” The child repeated, patiently.
“Bash-die-hair?” I said, at a total loss as to what she was saying.
“Astrayer!!!!” The child said, almost laughing.
I nodded. I moved on to the next child.
“And what’s your name?”
“Sapkota.”
“Slapcoat?”
“Sapkota!”
“Staff photo???”
“SSS-aaappp- Koooo-TAAA.”
I nodded.
Okay, this wasn’t going to work. I changed tactics, forget the names, what’s in a name anyway? “Does anyone have any questions about the U.S ...Anything? ...LeBron James? Rock and Roll?” I asked. I felt like Mark Wahlberg talking to goats on Saturday Night Live (YouTube it. It’s an insult to me, not the kids).
A child raised his hand, or was it a her? The child had short hair, but wore an earring, but talked more like a boy, but kind of like a girl... Ohhh, why was everything so hard in Nepal! I would’ve asked the child’s name but I already knew where that would lead.
I called on the androgynous child. “You have a question?”
“What is your caste?” The child asked.
“Oh, I don’t have a caste.” I said. They stared at me like I’d said I was neither man nor woman. “We don’t have castes.” I added almost apologetically.
“Are you a Christian?” The child asked. Everyone looked very interested in this one.
“Um... Technically, yes. ...I was raised Christian.”
“So you go to Church?”
“Um no. I am spiritua- I believe in god but-“ I wanted to ask them again if they knew about LeBron James.
“You celebrate Christmas?”
“Yes.”
“But you are not Christian?”
Oh boy. “I have beliefs along the lines of Christianity and celebrate Christmas but it is not a big part of my life.” As I spoke, I felt like I was telling them I was a Sacred Cow-atarian. “Do you celebrate Christmas?” I asked.
The androgynous one nodded. “Yes. I am Christian.”
Another child pointed at Sapkota. “He wants to be Christian.” The wanna be Christian looked embarrassed to be pointed out.
A bell dinged. The period was over. I didn’t know what to do. No teacher arrived. “Uh, should I just go to the next classroom. Are you guys all right?”
The children nodded at me. I wasn’t sure they knew why I was worried about leaving them without a replacement.
“Okay, I’m gonna go to the next room. See you tomorrow.” I said. I made a move toward the door.
The class stood in unison once again. It startled me, I looked at them.
“Thank you for teaching us today, sir.” They announced in a creepy sing-songy recitation.
I nodded and went to the next room where the next forty minutes was much of the same, with a better drawing of the U.S. and no attempt to learn their names.
The second class ended. I walked to the principal-janitor’s office, handed over my dry-erase marker and eraser, the principal-janitor nodded at me.
I said, “Okay, so same time tomorrow?”
The principal-janitor nodded once again. Okay, tomorrow it is. I walked onto the road, said hi to the passing goat, and caught the bus back to my home-stay.
Travelman log, day 194. Flying to New Delhi on the 25th. !steemitworldmap 27.6178 lat 85.2737 long Volunteer Teaching??? Kids in a Village in Nepal-Dakshinkali, Nepal, d3scr 326 Followers and counting, 970.1 steem earned. Rep 59.1 Travelman out