2/27/06

The strike is finally over. I don't know where the government found the money, considering it's still battling the World Bank over oil revenues, but until next school year, la grève is a thing of the past- hopefully. It's great to feel useful again, and although each of my classes now has more than 100 students (they've grown since November), the challenge of trying to be the ringmaster is fun, in a way. Teaching is one thing- I actually enjoy that- tests and the subsequent grading are going to be rough though. I'll cross that bridge when I come to it, I guess- for now, I make my way through the sea of blue uniforms four times a week, and do as much as I can to make up for the three-month layoff in the eight weeks or so we have left before students head out to the fields.

I feel like whatever progress I make in helping my students to learn English thwarted though. After this year they'll go on to Terminale (assuming they pass, or pay the administration the necessary bribe to get the 'Admission en Classe Superiere' stamp on their grade report, and be taught by Enoch (who speaks English reasonably well), Pambro (who can at least communicate), or Kadakna (who can barely get past "How are you?" yet is teaching English). All three of them are nice guys, and mean well, but they continue to follow the same unrealistic, flawed system of English teaching that simply doesn't work.

Ben Franklin, I believe, originally said, and all the 12-step programs have adopted the motto that 'Insanity is doing the same thing over and over, and expecting a different result." From my position as the 'outsider,' it seems painfully obvious to me that the Chadian method of teaching English is truly the definition of insanity. Regardless of whether the students have actually learned anything, the teachers continue with the next lesson, assigning the class exercises from a book only they have, copying texts that are either hopelessly outdated, or out of context- how many Chadian villagers have heard of internet banking, for God's sake?

The end result is that about the only coherent English sentence your average Chadian high school grad can put together is, "Good morning, teacher," the stock phrase they repeat every day for seven years, followed by two hours of copying a text on the passive voice.
Moustapha, a Cameroonian student in Terminale living in my landlord's house brings me a perfect example of this. He clap/knocks at my hangar door a day or two ago.

"Oui," I say.

"Nah-tahn-yel I have one text for showing to you," he says haltingly in English. I get the gist of what he's aiming for, so I don't bother trying to correct him.

"OK, let me see it," I tell him. It's titled "NEPAD, a New Project for African Development-" as I look it over, I can see why Moustapha wants my help- it'd be simple enough for someone with a basic foundation in English, but unfortunately that puts it way over his head. We go through the text word-by-word, with me occasionally translating, and eventually he seems to get it. I look at the end of the text, and there are a few basic comprehension questions, straightforward enough; it's what comes after that surprises me though.

"Essay Question: 'How is Globalization affecting the development of your country?' Answer in one page."

Are you kidding me? Does Pambro, Moustapha's English teacher, actually believe he has one student who could write a coherent English essay? They probably couldn't even in French! Not only that, but the topic seems ridiculous; 'How is globalization affecting Chad?' It isn't. Globalization is something that happens between developed and developing countries. To label Chad a 'developing country' would be to place it in the same category as nations like India, China, and Brazil- I suspect they can keep the electricity on in Rio, I know China has more than two paved roads, and you hear a hell of a lot more about Bangalore's software industry than Bongor's.

Of course, it doesn't matter whether Pambro thinks they understand or not- it's in the curriculum, and Thou Shalt Teach The Almighty Curriculum. Teachers like Enoch and Pambro plow ahead with the prescribed lesson, despite the fact that their students haven't understand a damned thing. This sounds dangerously close to Ben Franklin and 12-step territory again. Honestly, I think I've probably looked at the national curriculum twice; the first time was to marvel at its hopeless disconnection from reality, and the second was to figure out what not to do if I'd actually like my students to learn something, revolutionary as that may be.

Around five o'clock Pambro comes by my house. After the usual pleasantries, he gets to business.

"I want to ask you about a question I've found," he begins. "How is globalization affecting the development of your country?" He reads. "The word 'globalization,'" he says, "I've heard it, but I don't really understand what it means- perhaps you could explain it to me?"

How can he possibly be serious? I wonder. He doesn't even know the meaning of the word, yet he's assigned 400 non-functional English speaking Terminale students to write an essay on it, in English. Over the next 20 minutes as I peel garlic and chop green peppers, I try my best to explain globalization to Pambro, alternating between French and labored English. When I finish, he at least seems to have an idea.

"Are you sure that this is the best question to be using?" I ask, prodding gently. "I wonder if you could use something else?"

"Well, it's in the curriculum," he says. "I have to use it."

Surprise, surprise...

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