The Teacher Diaries-Chapter 9

Chapter 9

By the end of the first week of October I pretty much figured out what needed to be done. But like trying to drive a car for the first time, it took practice and more practice to get into a specific routine. That's what took up all our free time during that first month. Hasan and I often stayed late at school, sometimes coming in on the weekend as well, trying to get our admin done. One specific day during October 2003, we decided to stay to 6pm. It was just about an hour to sunset. We had to finish comments in each student's diary and also work on some preparations. By this time, we were teaching already but still under Patrick's supervision. So lesson plans were also focused on during these quiet times. 

That particular day, the maintenance staff, including security, had forgotten about us, and locked all inter-leading doors, including the main outside door. 

'Wat nou-What now?' Hasan looked worried as he turned the handle of the double doors of the elementary corridor. 'Don't worry, we'll make a plan.' Although everyone thought we were a little short of crazy to work so late at school-we just felt we needed more confidence in what we were doing.  Our colleagues use to say things like 'There's no use doing anything extra if no-one sees you doing it.' So I knew we would hear so many 'I told you sos,' the next day. Most teachers in 'The Team' would take their work home, whereas we liked to relax at home. I suppose the day was too long. Our school started at 7am and ended at 3.15pm. So staying another three hours was taxing to say the least but it was worth the sacrifice. 

That's when I realized I had to let someone important know we were there. I called the compound number from an ancient handset in one of the offices and asked for Patrick's extension. Needless to say, Patrick laughed but at the same time knew we were dedicated and hard working. 'Mission accomplished.' He called security who in turn then unlocked the doors to our freedom. It wasn't that dramatic, but it definitely stood out as one of many memories. 

The next day, we were required to go to the local hospital for blood tests, medical exams and stool tests. Hold on, did somebody say stool test? What ancient country are we living in? Who still does stool tests? I mean really. It's humiliating and demoralizing. In this modern day of science and technology, I'm sure we could do without that. My complaints were to no avail, as we were really required to do the deed on demand. 

The school bus collected us at the compound at 5.30 that evening. In case you wondering, these were part of the requirements needed to get a working permit also commonly known as an Iqama. Didn't we complete all these medical tests back home for our visas? Now that we here, its like that never happened. Everything had to be repeated. 

I suppose after all we all came from Africa, didn't we? Popular belief will dictate that we live in bushes or in trees. My principal back at my school in 1995 asked me if I knew where he could purchase a lion. Our medical services in Africa were probably reliant upon witch doctors. The Saudis were really ignorant when it came to us back then. In many ways they still are. 

...to be continued..... 

Chapter 10-The Hospital 

Hi All,

The school featured in 'The Teacher Diaries', is not the last school I attended. I left Dar Al Fikr in 2008 but it left an everlasting mark. It was such a colorful institution that I felt the need to concentrate on this experience only for the time being. That's the reason Chapter 1 starts at a point in 2008 and not 2012. Anyone who ever taught at Dar Al Fikr, can attest to the above statement-whether good or bad, you just cannot forget.  

Joe

The Teacher Diaries-Chapter 8

Back in 1995, on the eastern coast of Saudi Arabia, in a small coastal town of Al Khobar, I was a Grade 1 homeroom teacher for a school called Manarat Al Sharkia. 

I was responsible for English, Math, Science and Social Studies. Inexperienced, young and naive, I really didn't know what I was getting myself into. The students were raw, uninhibited and uncontrollable. They broke me both spiritually and mentally. I think I aged five years in that year. Needless to say it was one of my worst experiences ever and although in my opinion I was really bad at what I did then, the school wanted me back as I was the one who resigned. Never again, were my exact words. Well you know what they say, ‘Never Say Never’. The irony is that because of that experience, I was chosen for Grade 1 once again at this new school in 2003.

I was not going to let my previous experience deter me though, not this time. I had everything to lose-I had to focus-had to keep my eye on the ball-had to make a complete success and reach my ultimate objective. So because I was more matured both as a professional and a person, every part of my being turned into the proverbial sponge. Patrick was going to be my mentor, and I was going to be his prodigy so to speak.

Saturday 27 September 2003, was my first encounter with the super rich-super wealthy six year olds. I was allocated to Grade 1B and 2A and Hasan 1A and 2B. We had an average of about 15 in a class, and I know what you thinking-its piece of cake right? Believe me when I say, it wasn't. The numbers were an illusion of the multiple personalities within each student. They might as well have been 50.

Patrick had been teaching them before our arrival, as we were about three weeks into the academic year. He promised us a series of demo lessons before he let us captain our own ships. Patrick obviously knew what he was doing with ten years experience at this institution. I could see from the offset he had a strategic plan in place. I was truly lucky in the sense that others, who followed, did not receive an orientation of this nature. I really owe my success as an educator in the Middle East, to this guy.

‘Good morning, grade 1,’ Patrick greeted with animation straight out of acting school. I noticed his whole persona changed. He’d taken on a role, hadn’t he? Like those aspiring actors who take part in children’s television series, Patrick sounded as if he was the lead in Barney. I then realized my first task was to lose my Cape colored accent. The learners would definitely not identify with me as an educator, if had to come with say, ‘Take out your books, ne?’ accentuating the r in every word. I had to be an actor first before anything else and develop some kind of sturvy accent. Note to myself-watch Barney.

Patrick controlled these young adults with such finesse and grace that could’ve only come with experience. He was loud and audible, yet subtle in his approach, and he repeated everything. This made me also realize that patience was more than just a virtue. Taking time to know each and every learner was a priority. I found that they needed to love and respect the teacher before they could learn from him. It wasn’t just about teaching.

He also stressed on rules. He repeated them consistently and even had an illustrated chart on the wall, which he would always refer to when teaching. Everything from raising your hand to answer, to no speaking Arabic in the class was illustrated in bright colors. And instead of punishing them, when they didn’t follow, he positively reinforced them. He worked out a reward system where they could benefit at the end of the week. That’s when I understood why Patrick always had sweets in his pocket.

Back in the day when I was in college, we as men weren’t allowed to teach grades 1 to 3. It was said men lack the patience and tolerance for learners that age and a woman naturally can assume the role of generic motherhood in the class. Six year olds are generally closer to their mothers than their fathers, isn’t it? So it’s easier for a child to let go of the apron strings on his first day of school, with a female teacher at the helm.

Anyway, in a society where the mixing of the sexes and coed schools are not allowed both for students and the faculty, we needed the antithesis of that rule. Patrick was just that. 


.......to be continued...Chapter 9....