I spend my afternoons here teaching English at Gamru village school, a charity school for Indian children. It is free- the uniforms, food, and books are covered- so the children are predominantly poor. The building is unimaginably small, as are their pencils, but these students are getting a chance they otherwise wouldn't. Here's a link to their website: http://gamruschool.com/gamru/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=12&Itemid=27
McLeod Ganj is full of NGOs and other organizations that serve Tibetans, and all of the other students in my group work primarily in this realm. So I'm finding it satisfying to work with Indians- not because Tibetans don't need help, but because around here, they get a lot of attention and school-less Indian children are easy not to see.
I've never done anything so hard, though.
Sitting down in front of the twelve or so trustees and board members of the Boettcher Foundation for my scholarship interview is usually the experience that comes to mind when I think of being scared shitless. But there's nothing like standing in front of a room of expectant seven year olds whose language you don't speak. I have no idea how to teach first graders, teach English, or teach English to first graders. Or second graders. Or third graders. While the principal and a few of the teachers at Gamru are wonderfully supportive, we have zero direction. All my questions are answered with a head wiggle (somewhere between yes and no) and a yes, yes, do whatever you like. The students, as we have discovered, know a lot of simple vocab words- things like colors, shapes, days of the week, animals, etc. But they can't form sentences, and they have no idea what I'm saying to them. It's hard to do engaging games and activities because I can't explain the rules or give directions. Everything turns into actions and repeat after me. The first few days are the worst. I feel sort of helpless, like I'm not really teaching them anything. And some of the teachers seem to agree. I feel that they don't really want me there, that I'm wasting time and letting them color all too often.(They LOVE coloring. And it keeps them quiet and busy. Win.)
The first few days were really tough. I dreaded going. I hate being unable to make them understand- and hate even more running out of things to do and watching them get bored. But on Thursday, after a sort of shaky lesson in times of the day, a second grader raises his hand. The day before I had taught emotions, complete with silly faces that the kids eat up. I call on the student, and he stands up, puts his hands on his hips, and says, "I am mad"- squinty eyebrows and everything. It is exactly as I taught him. And I almost want to cry. He remembers! The second graders prove themselves again on Friday, remembering the times of day. Friday is the first day I feel a little good about teaching- I'm getting the hang of this, at least a few of them are retaining knowledge, I'm less intimidated by the blank stares of first graders.
But Friday is Friday, and will always be Friday. The end of the week has a mystical effect on student energy and emotion, and I have two crying third graders at the end of the day. But it is almost comforting, in a grounding sort of way, to be reminded that these are just kids after all- the same as kids anywhere.
McLeod Ganj is full of NGOs and other organizations that serve Tibetans, and all of the other students in my group work primarily in this realm. So I'm finding it satisfying to work with Indians- not because Tibetans don't need help, but because around here, they get a lot of attention and school-less Indian children are easy not to see.
I've never done anything so hard, though.
Sitting down in front of the twelve or so trustees and board members of the Boettcher Foundation for my scholarship interview is usually the experience that comes to mind when I think of being scared shitless. But there's nothing like standing in front of a room of expectant seven year olds whose language you don't speak. I have no idea how to teach first graders, teach English, or teach English to first graders. Or second graders. Or third graders. While the principal and a few of the teachers at Gamru are wonderfully supportive, we have zero direction. All my questions are answered with a head wiggle (somewhere between yes and no) and a yes, yes, do whatever you like. The students, as we have discovered, know a lot of simple vocab words- things like colors, shapes, days of the week, animals, etc. But they can't form sentences, and they have no idea what I'm saying to them. It's hard to do engaging games and activities because I can't explain the rules or give directions. Everything turns into actions and repeat after me. The first few days are the worst. I feel sort of helpless, like I'm not really teaching them anything. And some of the teachers seem to agree. I feel that they don't really want me there, that I'm wasting time and letting them color all too often.(They LOVE coloring. And it keeps them quiet and busy. Win.)
The first few days were really tough. I dreaded going. I hate being unable to make them understand- and hate even more running out of things to do and watching them get bored. But on Thursday, after a sort of shaky lesson in times of the day, a second grader raises his hand. The day before I had taught emotions, complete with silly faces that the kids eat up. I call on the student, and he stands up, puts his hands on his hips, and says, "I am mad"- squinty eyebrows and everything. It is exactly as I taught him. And I almost want to cry. He remembers! The second graders prove themselves again on Friday, remembering the times of day. Friday is the first day I feel a little good about teaching- I'm getting the hang of this, at least a few of them are retaining knowledge, I'm less intimidated by the blank stares of first graders.
But Friday is Friday, and will always be Friday. The end of the week has a mystical effect on student energy and emotion, and I have two crying third graders at the end of the day. But it is almost comforting, in a grounding sort of way, to be reminded that these are just kids after all- the same as kids anywhere.
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