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October 7th, 2009 | 
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Working as a teacher, you are constantly subjected to scrutiny, be it students testing you to see how you react or your supervisor doing an observation. However, there is one category of person that surprisingly, doesn’t seem to want to meet or evaluate me at times: the parents!
Going to the mandatory Meet-the-Teacher night at school last week, I was shocked at the low turnout of parents. Granted there was rioting in Kampala (conflict between the government and members of the Buganda tribe), it still seems that looking back to the previous year, that attendance at parent-teacher conferences and the same event were lower than I had expected. This lack of teacher recognition was reinforced today, when a member of the PTA whom I knew by name and sight asked me if I was new to the school.
During my first year of teaching, a student asked me why I wanted to be a teacher. He stated that I was obviously smart; I could do anything, so why do a job where I am paid so little? I responded by asking him what was most important to his parents? It was sad that it took him a few minutes to come to the conclusion that I was talking about him (not money or a large company). I then stated that I probably spent more time with him than his parents during the school year, (he agreed with me on that), and that therefore my job was pretty important because his parents were intrusting me with shaping and taking care of what is most important to them. Not surprisingly, I never heard from or interacted with his parents in any way. Unfortunately, the less importance and respect parents give to teachers; the same will be true for their child.
Many people begrudge teachers their many holidays; a favorite colleague of mine says that teachers do not have vacations, they have recovery periods. Teaching is not just a job; it’s a vocation that goes beyond the hours of the school day. Teachers work very hard (harder than I ever thought when I was a student in high school) and put a lot of time and care into their students. As a parent, I am sure you appreciate the teacher that goes out of their way to do small things that enrich the world of your child. Well parents I have news for you, the same applies to for us teachers! A small thank you card or gift at the end of the year or for holidays makes a big difference to a teacher. Though the chocolates and flowers were nice, at my previous school, it was the sentiments of students and parents for Teacher Appreciation Day that meant the most to me.
Sadly, many parents at private schools feel they have done their duty by paying the tuition costs; it is up to the teacher to prepare their child for life and further schooling. It seems that parents are more involved in school the younger the child; secondary parents feel that they are not needed or maybe wanted. As an IB (International Baccalaureate) teacher and form tutor, I am busy preparing your child for university. In fact, not only am I teaching them subject material, life skills, and being a role model, I am probably helping them to write their applications and providing references. The more support I have from parents, the better I will be able to support these students and teach them what they need to succeed in the world; students will have a greater chance of success. Supporting teacher’s leads to better morale, this in turn leads to a happier, more positive and productive, learning environment.
Luckily most parents are wonderful: involved, concerned and caring when it comes to their child’s education. For all you parents out there who have baked me those delicious cookies, written those wonderful cards, taken your child out shopping to buy presents, come and supported a school event like the Science Symposium or even just showed up to parent-teacher conferences, I thank you! Rest assured these small things are noted an appreciated by all teachers alike.
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What is the meaning of life? From a biologist’s perspective, as I often tell my students, it is to reproduce and pass on your genetic material. If we take the premise as truth, then so far in my life at age 28, I would be considered a failure. This viewpoint becomes reinforced as I live and travel in Africa.
Living in Europe or North America, when meeting someone new the first question usually asked is where one is from or what is your profession. In Africa, the first question I am invariably asked, besides what country I am from, is if I am married or if I have a man as I am usually alone or traveling with a female friend. That is always followed up by the question of whether or not I have any babies. At first, I was confused; my answer was a very obvious no, I have no man therefore I clearly have no children. However, once better acquainted with local culture, I realize that for African men and woman, the two are not necessarily connected. Woman often have children out of wedlock and many have children while they are still teenagers. As Uganda is a very conservative and religious country, I was surprised to hear this, and even more surprised to see that these people are not forced to marry nor ostracized from the community in any way.
Uganda was one of the few African countries to handle successfully the Aids pandemic once the danger was recognized. It continues to be active in combating this disease; condoms are readily available and cheap. Campaigns across the country endeavor to educate people to issues that propagate the disease. My personal favorite is a billboard that shows an elderly man with the slogan “Would you want your daughter to sleep with this man? Then why would you sleep with his?” I realized that they were attempting to stop cross-generational intercourse, but the understanding of why came much later. It was after some reading into Aids that I learnt that this is a major factor in the spread of the disease. As homosexuality is illegal in Uganda, Aids, unlike during its early stages in the Western world, is a heterosexual disease in Africa.
To come back to my original point regarding having children, condoms are very widely available and affordable. Further, they are required protection to combat other factors such as Aids. Uganda continues to run very successful education campaigns that promote the use of condoms. The questions then becomes, why are there so many pregnancies if such methods are widely and cheaply available? Certain other factors come into play; a guide at Sippi Falls told me that he fathered a child (age twenty) when he was too drunk to remember to use a condom. I mentioned that birth control pills are 10,000 Shs (approximately $5 US) for three months and take care of problems like that. He only laughed. Although from the village, Joel works with tourists for a good rate, and is saving up to attend medical school. So if this is the attitude of an educated, forward thinking African, I mustcome to the conclusion that these pregnancies are wanted, and if not wanted, happily accepted.
In Uganda it is very important to greet people, and invariably the term of respect for a woman is “mama” or some equivalent. This highlights the importance Africans place on reproduction and having a baby for women; a girl is not considered a proper woman until she has given birth. African women show disbelief and horror when they hear I am twenty-eight and still have yet to give birth. The most recent, and probably most dramatic incident came very recently when my car broke down driving from the Serengeti to the Ngorngoro Crater. While waiting for my driver to change the tire, we were approached by two Masaai women. They did not speak English but wanted us to take their picture in exchange for money. We were happy to oblige as this was an authentic experience,rather than a set production put on fortourists, as is usually the case. They spoke no English, but luckily our guide from the Serengeti had asked for a ride to Arusha. This was a great symbiotic relationship: he got a free ride and we got the benefit of his local knowledge and language skills. Through him we were able to communicate with the women, and of course, they wanted to know if my friend was my mother, and how many babies I had. My answer was surprising to them, as was theirs to me: that at the age of fifteen and eighteen, they had respectively one baby and two babies. I was advised to get a man very quickly because I was very old, almost too old to have babies anymore.
Back in the car I jokingly remarked that I had two university degrees, and did that count for anything? My Ugandan driver stated that it is not the same situation. The Masaai live in a very big area and they need to have children to fill up the land. I realize that in Sub-Saharan Africa, having many children is beneficial to the parents as well as practical. Children are used as a source of labor; there is no Westernized notion that childhood is a time of innocence to be used for play. Children are expected to contribute the running of the household, with tasks like collecting firewood, taking care of younger siblings and for girls, cleaning and cooking, and for boys, herding cattle. Indeed, my two Sudanese students talk of their childhood job of herding cattle as the two oldest boys in a family that consists of six wives having seventeen children. Practicality comes from the knowledge that infant and child mortality is high; most children will not survive to adulthood able to reproduce families of their own. Diseases such as malaria, cholera, typhoid and accidents or myriads of other dangers that are rampant in Africa claim the weak: the elderly and the young. There are simply too many hazards to avoid loss of life, and parents look to their children as security for old age.
This is slowly changing, at least in Uganda, as people have access to more health care and education has become mandatory. My guard in Kampala recently asked to borrow money for school fees (a minimal charge) for his children for the new semester. After hearing that his wife in the village had just given birth to their fourth child, my roommate joked that we should buy him a box of condoms. However, I do not think this necessary as he has recently remarked that he will have no more children, as it is too expensive. Slowly the concept followed in the West is taking hold: have fewer children but invest larger amounts of energy, and more pertinent to Africans, large sums of money. Though the Africans I see live a day-to-day existence, they are slowly being forced to plan ahead for the future. Today half of Uganda’s population is below the age of eighteen. This contrasts sharply with Canada’s population that is aging. This it not to say we in the developed Western economies have all the answers. Our aging population comes with its own set of problems.
Despite the constant questions and subtle (and overt) pressure I feel here in Africa, I do not see babies in my immediate future. I realize my best child producing years are approaching, and the risk of infertility and birth defects rises every year I put off having children. However, for now the benefits of finding a suitable mate and furthering my own career outweighs the need or want for a baby. My priority is ensuring I have the means to ensure a safe and happy life for myself, and build up the security to one day provide for a family. If only Africans had the support that we enjoy and the same options open to them, the seeds of self-sustainment could be sown, changing the helplessness that characterizes Africa today. However, just as I too must balance the many pressures of my chosen life, so too must Africans, often with many other problems I can hardly begin to understand. So for now as I ponder these difficult questions,there is a surplus of African children to play with, many orphaned street children, whenever the maternal feeling overwhelms me.
Some say the glass is half full, others say the glass is half empty; life is one of perspective. Nowhere else does this seem to apply more than international teaching. To use another cliché and literary reference: it was the worst of times; it was the best of times. This is how I would best describe my life as an international teacher. There is so much to gain from teaching abroad; experiencing new cultures, people and places. However, I have grown just as much, if not more from the difficulties inherent in my choice of lifestyle.
Changing jobs is stressful. So is moving apartments (or any living accommodations) and making new friends. Throw in foreign language, different food, and a move to a different continent into the mix, do it all at once and maybe you’ll get an idea of how stressful and overwhelming the life of international teaching can be. So why have I done this twice now, moving first to Frankfurt, Germany and Kampala, Uganda?
The answer lies in one word: “perspective”. The above lesson was one I learnt a lot earlier than my teaching career. During the end of my High School years, my mother became depressed. It was during the end of my first year at McGill University when it became serious.
As a sufferer of depression myself it is hard to explain to someone else how you feel. So many people have tried, but no matter how empathetic a person is, it is hard unless they have experienced the same or a similar feeling. After her death, our rabbi told me that I should be happy my mother was dead, as she no longer had to suffer. My first reaction was to shout, “I’m not happy, I want my mother back”, however with the passage of six years I have gained a different viewpoint, especially in relation to my career. I chose not to be a doctor; after being part of so much trauma I no longer wanted, or was capable of seeing death and disease with detachment. Instead I have become a teacher, a career that I love and look forward to every single day; I bring forth knowledge and open people to new choices and possibilities.I am a more empathetic and open person than I might have otherwise been. And last but not least, I know who my best and closest friends are and how to be a better friend to others!
This insight didn’t come overnight. I chose to leave Canada to run forward into other experiences, allowing me to get some perspective on the very tumultuous and stressful past six years of my life. How I elected to do this wasto travel the world in search of new experiences that could hopefully replace some of the old ones. Using these skills has made me a better person and a better teacher, and allowed me to live and enjoy each day to its fullest.
When I decided to go back to Canada on vacation, I wasn’t sure how I would feel. My entry into Canada wasn’t smooth; I collapsed on the flight from Amsterdam to Toronto with a fever and pain. The airline staff of KLM was wonderful, but trying to convince customs it wasn’t swine flu or malaria wasn’t fun. When asked where I was arriving from and answering Uganda, I could see the confusion and suspicion come into the eyes of the airport staff. One official even bluntly asked, “What am I doing there?” My answer of teaching didn’t seem to satisfy him, nor did the reason for coming back to see family and friends seem enough. I was sent to have my luggage searched, for a few brief moments I felt the struggle certain people are more likely subject to; for example; the general Muslim population in the wake of 9-11
Thanks to antibiotics I recovered within a week and was back to living my “regular” life in Canada while Africa seemed a far off dream as did the suffering I had undergone. What didn’t fade was my relief and appreciation of the full health coverage and access to doctors (both family members and public) to help me. Canada offers its population free healthcare. Although living outside the country, I still had no need to worry. Had this happened to me in Uganda where I picked up the harmful bacteria, I still have access to well trained doctors and full coverage care courtesy of my job. This relief was interposed with guilt that so many people, specifically Africans, constantly undergo this kind of suffering or greater but without the support I had enjoyed.
My Kampala apartment: outside balcony
People living just outside my apartment
People living just outside my apartment Once better, I was also struck by the amount of nice cars on the road. It took me a whole hour to remember I turn on the air conditioner instead of rolling down the windows. I laugh because it was one year before this, home for the summer from Germany, I couldn’t get over how ugly all the cars were after seeing a steady diet of Mercedes, Audi, BMW and Volkswagen on the roads. It was crazy how much my perspective and attitude had changed. Walking into a store in Canada I would ask myself: do I really need this? And the answer was usually no. Seeing people buy second hand clothes and living with no running water or electricity, it was impossible for me to spend lots of money on things I knew I didn’t need, even if it was new, shinny and pretty. As the weeks went by, though it was hard to hold on to this attitude with constant consumerism around me. Watching television, reading the newspaper and mostly just going through the tasks of everyday life, there was so much choice and availability around me that I began to regard this not only as normal, but as my given right. A hot shower and constant electricity was always there on demand; instead of realizing how much I relied on and enjoyed these resources, I took them completely for granted. Therefore, although sad to leave my friends and family behind, I was kind of happy to be heading back to Africa.Despite the ubiquitous Coke, and cell phone carrier advertising, there is little exposure to consumerism and few places to spend money; stores and items are limited and the availability of electricity irregular. Typical roadside in Ugand
Upon arriving in Kampala, I was curious as to how I would feel about being back in Africa. Turns out I felt great. Visiting my mechanic to get my car back, he had replaced the engine and wouldn’t let me pay the full cost because it was more than I said I had to spend. Driving my manual car on the otherside of the road with potholes and crazy drivers, I felt good: free. I could go to the bar in flip-flops, no makeup and feel great; it was still important to look good but you were not judged by the price and quality of the material items you wear. The Internet was painfully slow and the streets dirty but as my mother knew, and I know, and the malnourished but always smiling children all over Uganda know, it isn’t what you have in life that makes you happy. It is enjoying all the experiences and relationships that life has to offer, or at least, that’s my perspective on life. I couldn’t have asked for a better mother, I was privileged to have her in my life for twenty-two years and I certainly couldn’t find a better job than international teaching… at this stage of my life anyways. Such is my perspective on life, the universe and everything within.