Teach to Learn

Hello everyone!

Lots has changed since my first post, but we expected as much from the first month of being here. Although it is very cliché to say so, it really doesn't feel like we have been living in Sri Lanka for such a short length of time. Every day has been packed with lesson planning, teaching, dodging three wheelers, and learning how to survive on our own; so I'm struggling to imagine life without the humid heat and coconuts. I do look back fondly to a time without mosquitoes, however.

Coaching in the sun

Since I last wrote I have been assigned my schools for the year - Unawatuna Maha Vidyalaya, SGV (Welhengoda), and Thithigalle. This means my week will be broken up between the three, which is nice because my teaching partner Jenny and I get to see more of the South than if we were confined to one school. Whilst UMV and SGV have both primary and secondary pupils, Thithigalle is a very small inland school, and the teachers there are especially keen to improve their English programme, so Jenny and I often teach the same class more than once a day. In our spare time in the other schools we are already coaching the UMV netball team (made up with the most fantastically competitive girls I have ever met) and, despite feeling ridiculously unqualified, take the SGV drama club. Thithigalle is the furthest away school, being a 40-50 minute bus ride and 10 minute walk away. The bus itself is quite the experience. There is almost always Sri Lankan pop music blaring through a speaker and, if you're lucky, a small monitor at the front with some quality TV soaps playing. Drivers are utterly fearless, and just the other day our bus to school withstood at least three collisions, two of them head on. We still got there in one piece. By far the most irritating thing about Sri Lankan traffic is the constant sound of honking horns; drivers honk so you know they're coming, that they're not coming, that they're overtaking, that they're not overtaking, etc. Men selling bread and other goods in three wheelers drive around the streets blasting music to attract attention. They clearly haven't heard the lyrics to many of the instrumental pieces of music that they're playing, so it seems that Santa Clause has been coming to town since September. A little irritating.

A Grade 3 class who aced their task <3

The vast majority of children at all three schools have such a positive attitude towards their education, so we've only had to properly use a stern teacher face with a few classes. We teach Grade 1-5 (that's roughly 5-10 year olds for all my fellow Scots) and we get to have a lot of fun with them, and their logic at times does make me laugh. At the end of every lesson the students either bow and touch our feet or try and give us a high five/handshake/fist bump combo, and I'm not sure if it's because they think we're friends or if they just love our lessons so much. It is very cute though, and when we celebrated 'Teacher Day' (very new to me) at UMV we stood outside for a whole hour whilst every student in the primary section bowed and touched our feet and adorned us with flowers. Unfortunately we were slightly ambushed and I don't have any photos, but it was really lovely. As entertaining as it can be, teaching is, however, very tiring, and I'm yet to master the art of rationing my energy so I last a day without wanting to take a nap. Much like in other Asian schools, corporal punished is used routinely at all 3 schools. We've finished our second full week of teaching and I still have to look away. It's completely acceptable here, but we will of course not be using that as a method of punishment, nor do the other teachers expect us to. I think a nasty scowl can more effective anyway. It's strange hearing children shout 'Teacher! Teacher!' at me all day when I was a pupil myself so recently, even adults in the street lean out of cars and three wheelers to shout to us every time we wear our saris.

Our first Full Moon party spent at a pre-school, mental 

Saris. Another big change. A sari is essentially a traditional three piece outfit which we wear when teaching. People take us very seriously when we wear them, and no longer wrongly assume we're tourists which is always good. We've learnt lots of useful Sinhalese phrases to help us dispel this judgement, and often joke about how saying 'Mama Teacher kinneck!' (I am a teacher!) can get some salesmen to lower their prices. When we go into Galle people stare and often shout to us about how beautiful we look (one man asked to take selfies with us whilst we were pineapple shopping, another when we were at the beach in our saris, and so on) which is still very strange. It's quite the ego boost, but after a long day of sweaty teaching, saying we are beautiful is almost definitely a lie. My reaction to this new heat actually led one charming wee boy in my Grade 3 class at SGV to laugh at me, gesture to his face and say "you hot, neh?" Saris can take a very long time to get a hang of and can fall apart if not tied properly - I've already been whisked into a room by teachers who are very keen to sort me out. That's the fun of it I suppose.

As we begin to settle into something resembling a routine the biggest change is our new home! The four of us are sharing a small two bedroom house on the grounds of UMV - it's basic but we've put our own stamp on it now and its beginning to feel like our own place. We are really happy living in our little house and enjoy the independence it's given us. When we moved in we spent our first day dusting thoroughly and sorting through things that previous volunteers had left behind; but nothing beats having to clean the mystery poo Jenny discovered downstairs in the basin of a broken old shower. We try not to think about where it came from. I've even learnt to sleep through the train that passes on the tracks right behind our house at all hours, so close that the first time it went past it felt like it was in my pocket. We have adopted lots of pet geckos who we love very much as they crawl across the walls and eat insects for us. The two resident school dogs Kenneth and Frank also live to serve, sitting outside our house to greet us when we come home. Poor Frank is named after Frankenstein so I'll leave you to imagine his good looks for yourself. Until very recently we had to live next to a mosquito nest, so the house record for the most bites is 126. Someone came and blasted it away one day which was quite the sight and very appreciated.

Our cooking and spice tolerance has come on massively. I was told that Sri Lankan food is so spicy because poorer families eat spice to KNOW that they've eaten - in other words that one meal can last them well until their next, and for poorer families it can be uncertain when this will be. I forced myself to stop being such a wimp when I heard this. We have come across many strange and sometimes disappointing foods in our cooking endeavors, such as avocados I thought were mangoes, a cucumber I thought was a squash, and apples which cost an arm and a leg. We cracked our first coconut by throwing it against the wall. Much to learn.

I love living here, but it is difficult. The days are long and hot, and waking up at 4.30 every morning to wrap a sari around myself is a challenge in itself. It's very easy to take pictures of the beautiful beaches, but there's more to our time here than the scenic photos. No one sees my hysterical tears over the sight of a rat in the cupboard, for example.  We face a new challenge every day, not just in the classroom, and I'm already finding it hard to remember what my lifestyle back home was like. Life is just so different - but that's the thrill of it.

Teachers - I have a whole new type of respect for you. Volunteers - likewise.

Bye for now,

Hannah

One of the many turtles at our favourite beach