This group of 28 six-year-olds were coming from nursery school fresh into their new primary classroom. They needed to learn how primary school works (not as much playing time, lots more writing, how to care for library books, and much more). They needed to figure out their different roles in their new class, since for the last three years they had been divided into two classes. They were also coming out of a two-month vacation and needed to be reminded of what they had learned the year before and how to sit on a chair when all four legs are on the ground. I believe those things can be a challenge even when a class has the best teacher.
So we did our best. And I believe, much of the time, the children did too. In those six weeks we established a daily routine (it was at least two weeks before I remembered they were supposed to brush their teeth after lunch). We taped colorful name tags to their tables, and then un-taped them and changed them around when we realized which children talk to each other too much. We learned their names and gave lots of hugs. We looked for children in the forest when they didn't reappear for afternoon lessons. We disciplined and rewarded and tried, when there was time, to fit in all the lessons they needed.
It was more draining than I could have imagined. I have worked at the school for the past eleven years. I have known two thirds of the class their whole lives and taught them in Sunday school the last three years. I quickly bonded with the ones I hadn't known yet and loved seeing them come to school each morning. I would have expected I was more prepared for such a role. I was wrong.
Teaching first grade brought me to my knees (and often to tears) in more fervent prayer than I have done in a long time. I needed it. They needed it. While it surprised me how unprepared I was to step in as a teacher, in a way (and more in retrospect) it was refreshing to do something which was so outside my normal routine. I remember in my first year or two in the library, I prayed before every class and remedial lesson. I had no idea what I was supposed to do, so I turned to God every chance I got. As I have become more comfortable and confident in my different roles, I know I don’t need God any less, but in practice I often act like it. When I know exactly what my plan is with a class, I forget that I should pray. I forget that God has a plan for them too.
Primary One did not let me forget. Most days, my plan involved some written work, some fun activity, some quiet Bible time, and some get-the-energy-out PE time. The children’s plan, however, looked more like this: some standing on the tables time, some walking out of the classroom for no reason whatsoever time, some written work time, and some crying during PE because so-and-so hit them or stole their ball or they have the wrong color jumprope time.
It was challenging, but there were so many highlights. I made playdough for the kids, and the first time we used it and I saw all the children sitting at their desks diligently making aliens and underwear (we had just read Aliens Love Underpants) I whispered to the volunteer with me, “It’s working!”
I bought enough jumpropes for the whole class and in the mornings the the early birds skipped up and down the basketball court and showed off how well they could skip backwards. (They were impressed when I brought out some of my Jumprope for Heart skills.)
Sometimes I dragged out sacks of big tin cans just to see what they would do with them. Oh, the creativity! As they were building a pyramid I saw better teamwork than they ever displayed in the classroom.
We quickly discovered that this class likes to learn and do work; they just weren’t all very good at focusing on it yet. We worked a lot on handwriting—I taught them how to form some letters and they told me when I did it wrong, because apparently in Uganda we write some letters differently than in an American kindergarten class. They thoroughly enjoyed reminding me every single morning to put “th” after the number for the date. I think the first time I remembered to do it myself was our last day of lessons. See, I can learn too!
At our primary school, the children eat lunch in their classrooms. Since the lunch every day involves bean sauce, that meant a lot of beans and sauce ended up on the tables and floor after the meal. Two different children each day were responsible for cleaning the tables. They were excited to do it… sometimes so excited that they went overboard and cleaned the walls and windows as well. And themselves.
It was first grade, so we dealt with a lot of first grade problems: children who didn't make it to the bathroom in time, children who spilled their lunch on their uniform, children who lost their shoes, and children who lost their teeth. Literally. One afternoon I enlisted the help of a group of secondary students to search outside for a missing tooth. They put in a good effort, but to no avail.
There wasn’t a lot of time for one-on-one interactions, but I did my best to get to know the children as well as I could, especially the ones who do not live at Noah’s Ark and who were new to me. One morning as I was reading the story of Noah’s Ark during devotions, I asked the children if they knew what a flood was. One hand flew into the air. “Yes, I know!” the boy said excitedly. "That is when a lot of water comes where it is not supposed to be. Like last time when it rained too much and the water came through the roof and the walls and entered our house and we didn’t have anywhere dry to be.” I blinked back tears before continuing the story. Sadly, I knew what he described was not a one-time event that they could fix and put behind them… this was what happened every time it rained hard. It is definitely easier to tolerate a child’s stubborn behavior in class when you imagine them huddled with their family in a dry corner of their house at night. What a powerful reminder to make school the best possible experience for them.
I quickly discovered that I was happy doing one of two things: either teaching the whole class and leading an activity for children who listened, or finding, talking to and disciplining the children who did not. I did not enjoy—and did not seem to be capable of—doing both at the same time. In the afternoons, a teacher from the nursery school led the class. That meant that most afternoons I could focus on discipline. Sometimes that meant looking in the forest for a child who did not return to class after lunch. Sometimes that meant sitting with a child outside and talking about what they had done in class and what they needed to do differently. Sometimes that meant sitting in class with a child who had refused to do her work earlier while the rest of the class went outside for PE. It amazed me how differently a child could behave on their own than in the midst of 27 peers.
Our last day of school in that term was the best. To be honest, I can’t remember much about what we actually did that day, but I remember coming home that afternoon and telling Christian that we ended on a good day, and that helped put all the rest in perspective.
One of the highlights of teaching Primary One was meeting the pupils and their parents on the last day of the term. It was so fun to talk to mothers and aunties and tell them how great their kids are, even if for one mother I had to blunder through “Your child is a good student” in Luganda, while the six-year-old explained to her everything else about school.
After the parents had looked at the children’s work and the children were released for holidays, I spent the rest of the day cleaning up the classroom. I had heard they hired a new teacher who would be taking over next term, and I didn’t want her to inherit the years worth of old papers and dried markers I had found. Late that night, after several trips to the garbage, organizing the desk drawers and straightening the posters on the walls, I locked the classroom door. My time as their class teacher was over.
That was six months ago. Since then, Primary One has had three different teachers. I know that sounds crazy, but what amazes me is that the children are enthusiastic about every new teacher who comes, and these three have all been so good for the class. They might be in for a big surprise when they have one teacher for the whole year in Primary Two!
Now when I pass by the classroom, I see 28 children sitting quietly at their desks copying work from the chalkboard or sitting in a circle making crafts on a mat. They have caught up on the curriculum, they are becoming good readers, and they don’t escape from class like they used to. (It makes me wonder what we did so wrong…) They might not be “my” class anymore, but I am thankful for all God taught me in my time as their teacher.
And I am thankful they have a real teacher now.
