Form IV National Exams

Form IV students are sitting for the National Exams, which take about two weeks to administer.  About 1/3 of our teachers are involved in proctoring the exams at other schools.  As a result, I have gone from teaching math to 3  Form I classes to teaching all 5 of them, just so they don't lose out in these two weeks.  Mark is busy, too.  But, with so many teachers absent, quite a few of the lower level classrooms have no teachers.  There is no other organized activity for these students, they just sit and (supposedly) study.

Tanzania takes these exams very seriously. They determine if, how, and where students will be able to advance in education.  They have much more impact than the SAT does in the States.  Each subject exam is 3 hours long, and the sciences include both a theory test and a "practicals" or labwork  exam.  It's so competitive that teachers are not allowed to proctor in their own schools, to prevent cheating and favoritism. After each exam is finished, the papers are collected from each student and locked in the school safe.  ALSO, we have police guards at the school, armed with rifles, to monitor the handling of the exams and ensure against leakage of the questions.

The Form IV students graduated two weeks ago, so after the exams they turn in any equipment they have borrowed or been issued--such as their desks and chairs--and are cleared to go home.  Exam results will come out in March.  Then, they will know if they can go to Form V (similar to community college), go to a vocational school, or just try to get some sort of job. Like in the rest of the world, good jobs are hard to come by without education.

Being foreign in a small Tanzanian town

We live in a small town.  Larger than a tiny village, but small enough that the residents don't see many white people, up close.  There are several Americans who teach at a school a few kilometers outside of town, and then there are me and Mark.  So, white people are objects of attention, curiosity, and sometimes misconception.  Mark and I try to take it with good humor.

I teach math to Form I students, who average about 14 years old.  A few days ago, I gave a set of problems to one of my classes, and went around the room giving advice and encouragement.   I stopped at a girl's desk and was pointing to her work with one hand while resting the other on the paper.  Then, hesitantly, she and two of the neighboring students started touching my fingers and fingernails.  I said, "My skin is just like yours, only a different color."  Then, "My nails are just like yours, only longer."  The reply was, "They're so white!"    I've also had my hair stroked a few times.  I don't generally mind.  They are learning about the world.

Another incident happened a few weeks ago.  Mark and I decided to take the long dala-dala trip into Arusha.  We met another teacher as we walked to the bus stop, and sat with her in the rear of the bus as we rode.  She is a lovely, educated woman in her 30s who speaks excellent English.  On one of the many stops along the way, 3 young Caucasian men with short brown hair boarded the bus and sat near the front.  They were speaking English, and from what I could hear of their conversation, they sounded Australian.  Our friend considered them for a few moments, then turned to me and said, "I think they're Chinese."  "Um, nooo...," I replied gently.  "Chinese people have black hair."

In our peaceful small town, a difference in skin or hair color is a source of curiosity and a good conversation topic.

Graduation festivities

The school year here in Tanzania starts in January and the graduation ceremony for our school's fourth year students was held this weekend.  It was an interesting, and in some ways impressive, event.

Planning did not start until a week before it took place.  The teachers were assigned to committees, and Mark and I were put on the Decoration Committee.  Our committee  decided that the school should rent tents to shield students and guests from the sun, as the event was held outdoors. 

Well, we didn't learn until the day before graduation that the supplier did not have any tents available.  All of them had been previously reserved. So, we obtained several very large tarps, and advanced level students were sent to cut down small trees on campus to serve as tent poles.   I know not to air my opinions about such activities, but they were echoed by a chemistry teacher who grumbled to me about it.  In any event, the advanced level students made the poles, attached the tarps to each other with twine, and erected the tents.  Meanwhile, the first year students brought hundreds of chairs out of classrooms and set them up in the quad under our direction.  Finally, students sprinkled water on the ground to dampen down the dust.  (It's the dry season here, and dust swirls with every breeze).

Graduation was scheduled to start at 11:00 am, according to the official schedule.  Mark and I had not really experienced "Tanzanian time" yet, but we certainly did that day.  At 11:00, decorations were finished, the sound system was set up, and we were ready to go---except no parents were there yet, and students were still milling around.  We finally started about 12:30.  Spectators continued to drift in for another 2 hours.

Tanzanian graduations are very similar to those in the States, but they differ in that they include student-generated entertainment.  Ours had a hip-hop performance, Boy Scouts doing a marching routine,  two contemporary dance groups, a group of Maasai students performing a traditional dance, and a half-hour long drama about a good student who was led astray by wild friends and ended up pregnant.   

The Maasai performance impressed me the most.  The Maasai slowly proceeded to the front of the audience, uttering a few high-pitched cries that at first sounded to me like flutes or whistles.  They were wearing traditional robes in red and blue, and all of them were covered in beaded necklaces, bracelets, anklets, and multiple earrings.  The girls additionally wore stiff, platter-sized necklaces that flapped fetchingly when they shrugged their shoulders, and the boys carried long sticks. The performers made a circle and started bouncing on their toes and heels.  The boys (young men, really) began a low, guttural chant.  The young women moved alternately to approach various of the young men, who were then stimulated to execute high vertical jumps and piercing yells.  After a couple of rounds of this, they proceeded off the way they had come.  Altogether impressive.  I'm sad to say that the other students seemed bored, and chatted to their friends during this performance.   I suppose there was no novelty in it for them.  

After speeches and awards, the graduation certificates were efficiently given to each graduate, and the ceremony broke up without ado.  It was 4:00 pm, and the teachers and invited guests adjourned to our long-awaited luncheon.   The feast was laid out with multiple dishes:  chicken, beef in a flavorful sauce, rice, pilau (a seasoned rice with chunks of beef), cabbage salad, roasted bananas, potatoes, fresh bananas, and watermelon.  There were no utensils provided, and everyone ate with their fingers, in the traditional way.  Water is provided for hand washing beforehand--and afterwards, if needed.

We helped supervise cleanup, too.  It went faster than set up, but it was still nearly 6:00 when we finished.  All in all, it was a long, exhausting, but fascinating day, and we are glad to have experienced it.