Freestyle Farewell

You're in for a treat! Here it is, in all its glory, what you've all been waiting for...

(There was more to it, of course, but unfortunately I only captured a portion of it on film. You get the drift.)

Bye-bye, Buyoga

I proctored 8 final exams, each 2-3 hours long. I graded my 285 English exams. I recorded all of their grades in my computer and also in my grade book. Then I calculated end-of-year grades for every one of my students. If I were a typical Rwandan teacher, after those calculations I'd get to copy every figure onto a grade reporting sheet. Let's do the math: (2 marks per term x 3 terms + 1 grand total) x 285 students = 1,995 numbers to write by hand. And let's be honest, if I were a typical Rwandan teacher at my school, I'd have more than 285 students and more than one subject's exam to grade -- but you get the idea. Anyway, I took a shortcut and printed out all my grades in nice pretty spreadsheets. Oh, how I love thee, Microsoft Excel.

The monotony of grading was tempered with the cute little personal notes that many kids include on their exams. Examples (you can click to enlarge):

With that, my responsibilities at Buyoga Secondary School were complete. But as Rwandans love ceremonies, they insisted on having a send-off celebration for me. It was held where all large school gatherings are, in the cafeteria. They remove all the tables and arrange the benches in rows for the spectators. But inevitably there is not enough space, so kids jam together as tightly as possible and the latecomers stand crowded in the back.

The festivities began with a few students doing traditional dance while another small group sang and played a drum. At first I didn't pay much attention to the Kinyarwanda lyrics, but then my ears seemed to hear "Juliana." As I listened closer, I heard that the chorus did indeed sing my name, followed by umurezi wacu na mama we meaning "our teacher and her mother." So I could only assume this was a little piece penned in my honor (and my mom's, who the kids all talk about ever since she visited in July). Really sweet.


(Disclaimer: These ceremony pictures are not from my camera. It's somewhat unbelievable to me that the quality is so terrible, because the school actually has a really nice 10.1-megapixel camera. C'est la vie.)
But that wasn't the only original composition! Some time later, two of my boys took the floor, each clutching a microphone at a rapper's angle. They proceeded to perform an amazing a cappella freestyle song that they had written for me. It was both touching and hilarious. If by chance you are familiar with Kanye West's 808s & Heartbreak, it reminded me of the last track "Pinocchio Story." Basically the boys screamed out my name many times over, dropped to their knees in anguish, and kept returning to the chorus: "I TAKE THIS MICROPHONE / TO TELL YOU BYE-BYE..." I have some priceless video of it, so maybe if I can get to fast internet sometime soon, I'll try to upload it because this description really doesn't do it justice.


At the end of the ceremony, the headmaster and the "head girl" and "head boy" student representatives presented me with a small gift: a hand-carved wooden map of Rwanda. It was unexpected and really thoughtful.


After that two-hour long ordeal, there was essentially an after-party in the school library. In attendance were about half of the teachers, a handful of select students, the headmaster, and a local government rep (I guess to make everything more official). Of course, in typical Rwandan fashion, EVERY SINGLE PERSON had to make a personal speech to me. It's kind of obnoxious, not to mention time-consuming. Over half of the people who gave speeches have hardly said two words to me this entire year, but sure enough they get up there and talk for 5 or 10 minutes straight. I'm continually amazed how every Rwandan is so good at speaking extemporaneously, especially since sometimes the emcee cold-calls with a specific topic ("Antoine, tell what you learned during the teachers' classes with Julie Ann"). The payoff for enduring the never-ending speeches was a small feast of goat brochettes, seasoned potatoes, and Fanta. Yum yum yum.

Many of you have asked me when I'm leaving Rwanda. I deliberately hadn't mentioned it yet because the plans were a little bit up in the air, due to some miscommunication that I don't need to rant about here. In the end, I am moving out of my Buyoga this Monday, October 25. For two weeks I will be in Nyanza, helping to train our newest class of Peace Corps recruits. Then I will leave Rwanda on the evening of Friday, November 12. (So, please don't send me any more mail! There's not enough time to ensure I'll receive it.) I'm planning an epic journey through West Africa, and at last I will be back in the States sometime in December. I'll be home for Christmas... =)

My favorite goodbye experience was heading to the Buyoga market on Thursday to bid farewell to my tomato lady, Mukashyaka. This woman brought me joy every single market day. Here's a typical exchange: she lights up when she sees me coming, and she greets me in Kinyarwanda. Then she says, "Ushaka inyanya -- You want tomatoes." It's a statement, not a question. I ask how much. "Today, they're 500 for the small bowl. But FOR YOU, 400!" Then she personally picks out the best-looking ones, fills the bowl to overflowing, and throws about 5 extra tomatoes in my bag for free. Then she says, "And I know you love green peppers, too!" and she dashes off to a nearby stall to pick the best peppers for me there. She brings those back and throws them in my bag, for an equally rock-bottom price (not sure how that works, since the peppers aren't hers to begin with). "So you'll come back!" she explains. I thank her profusely, and she just says, "You're my good customer."

So I took her a small gift of a scarf I was going to get rid of anyway. She was so taken aback! Then I really floored her by asking to take her picture. She did the typical Rwandan pose of looking down with a serious expression -- but she gives herself away. Her eyes are smiling.

A Red, Red Rose

Our third trimester of school was extremely short. After I gave my midterm (belatedly), I was left with a meager total of 5 class periods before final exams. I had really wanted to look at some poetry with my kids, just as a very brief introduction, but would there be time now? And let's be honest, my students can barely speak English. Could they handle poetry? Did I dare?

Why not! With the short amount of time, I chose to focus on just five poetic devices: imagery, end rhyme, repetition, simile, and alliteration. I spent a good amount of time searching for works that would be simple enough for my students to grasp. The best piece turned out to be "A Red, Red Rose" by Robert Burns. Where feasible, I took the liberty of updating much of the old Scottish language into more comprehensible terms -- e.g. a' the seas gang dry became "all the seas go dry" -- but some of it I couldn't bring myself to defile in that way. (I attempted to explain to the kids about outdated language that they should not use; nevertheless, I have no doubt that thanks to me, at least one Rwandan teenage boy will be writing a love note to his "bonnie lass.")

"A Red, Red Rose" was an especially good example because it's so lyrical and has a distinct rhythm. And so I had the kids practice reading out loud as a class, first repeating after me one line at a time, then reciting a whole stanza at once. It was a blast. I have one particular student who is quite good at English, but I think school bores him entirely, so about 80% of the time he skips my class in favor of wandering around outside. But on the day that we were boisterously reciting, he heard us from wherever he was, and I noticed him quietly creep back in the room and sit in his seat. While we all clapped the beat to keep time, he softly tapped the table in front of him. One small success.

As we discussed the meaning of the poem -- that he will love her until the seas are dry, that he will come 10,000 miles to see her -- an unconvinced Fanny cried out, "Teacher! He is a LIAR!" Then Jonathan raised his hand. "Question, teacher. Is this hip-hop, or R&B?" I laughed. I had already noted that Robert Burns lived from 1759-96. I pointed to those dates on the board. "Ah," nodded Aimable, understanding: "It is old-school."

My final class period with each of my sections was special. Because the kids looove American pop music, I brought my iPod and speakers and let them listen to a song. But the catch was that I made them identify poetic devices -- who knew Jordin Sparks & Chris Brown were so prolific with end rhyme and imagery? There's even a simile! "Losing you is like living in a world with no air," which one of my sweethearts announced that he would like to change to "Losing you is like living in Buyoga with no English teacher." Love.


As I exited one class, a student caught me outside the door and presented me with a small folded-up note:

BECOUSE YO TEACH ME POEM
I WRITE TO YOU THIS POEM
THIS IS MY GIFT TO YOU
THANK YOU

"MY BEST KNOWLEDGE"

My knowledge,
deep of my knowledge.
I respect you until land become sky.

I know,
I know your kindness,
when you become our teacher,
who teaching well.
Your ideas is well,
is well like my father,
My father is a Rwandan.

I want to be with you,
you you are my happy,
my happy like my study.
My study when continue,
I'm never forget my best knowledge.
Throughout the year, I've really tried to give a lot of positive reinforcement, since in general students just don't receive much of it here. So I always give stickers on every assignment for good marks, and I also give an additional prize of a fancy American pen for each section's top scorer on my tests. As the year draws to a close, I wanted to give special recognition to the kids who have continuously worked hard. Since I'm a nerd who's obsessed with Microsoft Excel, it wasn't hard to find the students who have achieved an average of 85% or more for the entire year, and these I invited to a special ceremony. I gave them each a certificate (because THEY LOVE CERTIFICATES), and they also each got to choose a small gift from my smorgasbord of American magazines, books, pens, notebooks, etc. (This served the added function of helping me to empty my house before I move out in a few weeks!)


And thus ends my formal teaching experience in Africa. I have to say, though I miss Mauritania all the time and especially my host family there, my work has been far more rewarding in Rwanda. My students here are, simply put, the best. And certainly the best part of my time in this country. And I will luve thee still, my dear(s), / While the sands o' life shall run.