Assembly.  St. Leo, March 2010.

Sboniso, Zama, and Sno.  St. Leo, December 2010.

"Look Miss Sinead!  We're Adidas!"  Siyabonga, Qiniso, and Sabelo.  St. Leo, October 2010.

Lindani.  Heritage Day, September 2010.

Heritage Day at St. Leo.  September 2010.

Field trip to Durban, March 2010.  Ayanda, Sizwe, Wandile, Lusanda, Lihle, Lindo, & others.

"hello is so easy... but goodbye? goodbye is very hard miss sinead"

I've been through a few break-ups in my life, but saying goodbye to South Africa feels like the worst one of them all.  It's a lump in my throat when I wake up in the morning, the echo of my bare walls and empty closet, the pain in my heart when I go through my photos to pick a couple to print for the people I love.  It's tight hugs from the boys at St. Theresa's, one last bunny chow with our feet in the Indian Ocean in Durban, handmade cards from the learners at St. Leo's who, in January, couldn't speak a lick of English.  It's that inevitable knot in the pit of my stomach on the final drive to St. Theresa's, St. Leo's, Gogo Gloria's house, church in Kloof, passing the Siyakwamukela eThekwini sign on the drive into Durban.




Pinky, in Grade 4, said it best.  "Saying hello is so easy!  But goodbye?  Goodbye is very hard, Miss Sinead."


South Africa has shown me just how much love my heart is capable of... but there is no doubt that I will be leaving a large piece of it here when I go.




.

what it's worth.

"To Shinad

Hi Shinad How are you me I am fine.  I would like to tell you something.  Shinad at first I did not like white people because of aparteid but I have realise that you must not hate somebody just because of the colour.  You must not judge some body the colour of the skin, and since I have relise that you are a good person and you are a kind person.  And even you are not near me I will always love you.  You show me the love that my parent never show.
Shinad I love you with all of my heart

From: Hlengiwe"


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at a loss.

I've been sitting here for about an hour, scrolling through the hundreds of photos I've taken over the past few weeks.  With this fancy new camera and very little time to read a multipage manual and actually figure out how to take good photos, I've just been taking craploads and hoping that some turn out okay.  There was Heritage Day at St. Leo's and St. Theresa's, various community outings (and spider sightings in our house), and the day I brought my camera to school "just in case".  I ended up spending twenty minutes doing a Grade 7 boys' photo shoot, and now, looking through these pictures, I'm meditating on the 23 days I have left here and wondering to myself how I can possibly feel so excited and relieved to have the end in sight... but also, feeling so sad at the prospect of leaving these kids, most of them probably forever.

A selection:

I'm feeling a little short on words tonight.




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overheard in south africa.

We've been working on Alphabet Books with Grade 4 for the past few weeks, and today we tackled the letters L, M, and N.  First we brainstorm a list of words that start with each letter, then each table chooses one to write a sentence about and illustrate.


Teacher: Ok, so what starts with the letter N?
Learner: Nice... noisy... ninja!
Teacher: Yes, ninja starts with N.  Good.  Now think of a sentence using the word "ninja".
Learner (without missing a beat): Bruce Lee is a ninja.


I will never, ever understand the way in which Bruce Lee and Jean Claud Van Damme have infiltrated Zulu culture.


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schizophrenia.

All I've been asking is to work.  I came to South Africa to forge relationships with people across racial, cultural, and economic boundaries.  I came to work, to be a teacher and attempt to teach vowel sounds and strengthen English speaking skills.
And with the World Cup, and strikes, and holidays, and the laziness of the government, I've been sitting at home far more often than I'd imagined, writing letters and applying for jobs.
Then school reopens, and instead of brimming with joy to be back in the saddle again, I find out that someone attempted to break into the library over holidays and spend half the morning being deafened by the sounds of Sir Sibisi and some of the Grade 6 boys (who should have been in class) busting open the locks so we could get inside our classroom.  Then three-fourths of Grade 6 didn't show up for class and Bec was feeling really sick, poor thing, and the whole day was such a disaster.

And, to top it off, it's been raining since I woke up.

I am aware that this blog makes me sound like a textbook schizophrenic-- elated to be here one moment, depressed the next, and flitting from emotion to emotion day after day, minute after minute.  But I might be a schizo at this point.  To feel "get me outta here" mixed with "ohmygod two months left" and "i can't believe i actually have to say goodbye", with a generous splash of "hanging out with my family and friends is going to be paradise", I just feel so mixed-up and over saturated with every sort of feeling that I'm completely exhausted.

I'm going to bed.  Goodnight.


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a sociology lesson.

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the itsy bitsy spider.

Back in early March, Becca and I spent a whole Wednesday teaching Grade 4 our fantastic repertoire of three songs... "Old MacDonald Had A Farm", "This Little Light Of Mine", and.... "The Itsy Bitsy Spider".

Enjoy.






.

this just in...

We had to close school at 10:00 this morning.  Amid alphabet matching games and practicing vowel sounds with Grade 3, Themba received a text message from someone she knows that there had been threats sent out against St. Leo's; it would have been dangerous to stay open.  I asked Olwethu, one of the girls in Grade 7 who won a scholarship for high school, if she was happy to have the rest of the day off.  "No, it's boring at home," she said.  It made me think a lot about how I've taken my education for granted... if thirteen-year-old me had had an unexpected early dismissal, for whatever reason, I would have been absolutely over the moon.  But for the majority of kids at St. Leo's and elsewhere here, school is the one thing that keeps them busy, interested, and happy.
I hope this strike doesn't last too long.

So instead, we're at home baking peanut butter cookies, I'm throwing my clothes into a bag, and hoping that when I get home from Cape Town this will have all blown over, and we can go back to school.

because this monday needs cheering up...

Today was a frustrating day at St. Leo's.  Grade 6 has the nasty habit of neglecting to show up for class, and since most of the teachers weren't in their classrooms today because of one meeting or another, there was no authority present anywhere aside from a couple of 12-year-old prefects with sticks in hand, ready to smack their subordinates on the arm.

So, instead of posting something negative, here's a real gem from our Grade 6 Term 1 Vocab Review last week.  Keep in mind, Andiswa is eleven years old.  The kids were asked to use two of their vocabulary words in a sentence; look at his second one.

My favourite car was Land Rover but my wife says she doesn't want a Land Rover, she wants a BMW.

Great sentences, indeed.  But 4/5 nonetheless.

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overheard in south africa.

I've gotten myself mired into a Tickle War with a couple of the Grade 3 boys.  Then this happened...


Teacher 1: Sphelele!  You're not laughing!  Aren't you ticklish?
Sphelele: No... I'm Zulu!



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the view from here: the 2010 world cup in photos

You've seen the matches on TV, heard "Waka Waka" and "Wave Your Flag" more times than you can count on the radio, and I've shared articles with you about South Africa's struggle and success in hosting this year's FIFA World Cup... so what now?

I thought I'd do something a bit more exciting, and give you a peek at what June 11th to July 11th looked like from where I stand.  I left the United States on January 11th, making the opening day of the World Cup a five-month marker, and the closing ceremony our six-month anniversary as AVs here in South Africa.  And what a month it was.

We decorated the St. Leo's library (our classroom) with projects about the World Cup...

... and went a little crazy as the term came to an end.

I got to judge a World Cup art contest-- no easy task, I promise you...

... and also banned vuvuzelas from the classroom.

We had friends in crazy flag trousers (and vuvuzelas)...

... and strangers in crazier flag UNITARDS (and more vuvuzelas)!

Then the world became that much smaller when we met a fellow Villanova alum (Class of '97 anyone?) at the fan park on the Durban beachfront.

We refereed intense soccer matches during our holiday programme at St. Leo's, complete with future Bafana Bafana star athletes...

...and taught Kwazi, Kwanele, and our 45 other campers how to make yarn bracelets in their favourite team colours.

We watched Bafana Bafana beat France with some of the boys from St. Theresa's, in one of the stickiest, most sugar-laced afternoons yet...

... and decked ourselves out in red, white, and blue to hit the beach...

... twice.

And last night, we wrapped up the festivities with some of our closest friends, feeling sad and relieved and proud and very, very exhausted, all at once.

And now we have fresh crayons, a return to routine, and five more months to make the most of our time here in South Africa.

grade 3 goes mtv.

When Grade 3 won't pay attention at the end of the day, sometimes all you can do is dance to Beyonce.  But I'm almost positive I've never seen Beyonce dance like this...

worth 1000 words...

learning to pray.

This blog entry was written for the Augustinian Volunteers' website, which you can find here.  I wrote about how my spirituality has grown so far during my year here in South Africa.

It’s another Tuesday at St. Leo’s Primary, and I’m seriously dragging.  The photocopier is out of toner again, which means the vocabulary test that we’d planned for Grade 5 has to be a bit more off the cuff than I’d anticipated—but that’s the nature of teaching in this school.  This is a place where almost seven hundred learners have been admitted to the school, despite lack of space and individual attention;  a place where pencils are in such short supply that they have to be labelled with names to keep them from going missing; a place where teachers engaging their students in the classroom is the exception, and not the rule.

But St. Leo’s is also a place where the library is one of the most valued spots in the school; where the enrollment is so high that the administration can’t keep up, just because parents want their children to learn English with Americans; a place where the sound of young voices singing can make even the most miserable Monday mornings worth it.  In a country where the population has big dreams and very little follow-through, the children at St. Leo’s are an example of the hope I’ve come to look for with each day that passes here in South Africa.

Break at St. Leo’s comes early; at ten o’clock in the morning, I’m not hungry and not ready to interrupt the day just yet.  On this particular Tuesday, the four classes that follow break are even more of a struggle than the two I had this morning.  We attempt to review some lessons from the previous weeks after the test is finished and graded, but the learners are lethargic and I’m losing my patience.  I can only repeat myself so many times—a mystery is “a puzzle without an answer”, and “a chance to do something” is an opportunity, not often.  And then, just when I’m about to resort to reading them a story instead, the bells from the church next door ring to signal midday, and the sixteen Grade 5 students in front of me stand up, fold their hands, close their eyes, and bow their heads.  They begin to pray.

Yethi Maria, ogcwele igrasiya, iNkosi inawe, ubusisiwe wena esifazaneni, ibusisiwe nenzalo yesisu sakho uJesu.  Maria ocwebileyo, Nina kaNkulunkulu, mawusikhulekele thina zoni, manje nasesikhathini sokufa kewthu.  Amen.

As the words rise to Mary who hears and understands, whether in English or in Zulu, I close my eyes and lean against the bookshelf near my desk, reflecting on the day so far and silently asking God to help me through the rest.  I open my eyes again and look around the room, at the boys and girls in front of me, praying fervently in the midst of the schoolday.  My heart is filled with so much love.

This is the type of encounter with God I have come to know and appreciate during my time as an AV in South Africa—the prayers that offer me respite from the noise of language barriers, racial identity, and poverty.

Though I’m a teacher, I’ve learned from these students; learned that prayer has to be an integral part of every day, even if it is just a few Hail Marys quickly spoken during a vocabulary review, or hymns sung during assembly as the sun rises over the valley.  The Zulus’ prayer life is one without expectations or judgment, where I can participate in a Zulu teachers’ prayer meeting in English and no one minds.  The devotion to everyday spirituality that I’ve witnessed here in South Africa is inspiring, especially when the living conditions of some should adversely affect their wellbeing.  But it is these simple daily encounters with a very present God that give South Africans the hope they need to push onwards.  This entire year is my classroom, and the people with whom I spend my days are my teachers, gently guiding me towards the presence of God.