Education Program: A Story from the Early Days
A Story from the Early Days
Through the eyes of Elke, here is a glimpse of the early days at the school......
"Thank you, Teacher, Goodbye, Teacher, until we meet again..."
Every day in the preschool ends with the children singing this refrain. It's been thrilling, crazy, frustrating, mind-boggling, wonderful, and nerve-racking teaching there. It's also been sweet and heart breaking.
Let me tell you about Maurine. Maurine has coffee-colored skin, dark, almond-shaped eyes, and a sweet, shy smile. She is polite and quieter than most of her peers in the preschool. As the first-born of the family, she is expected to look after her brother and three sisters, walk to the mill to grind corn, collect firewood, wash clothes, clean the house, and fetch water from the river in a heavy ceramic pot she carries on her head. After two years of preschool, she knows her alphabet inside and out, can read and write several words, and do simple addition. She is ranked first in her class of forty. She and her parents hope she can attend primary school someday. At present, it doesn't seem likely. There are no free public schools in Kenya . To help the poor children of the neighborhood, Betty started her own preschool in the tiny mud church in the family compound three years ago. Of her forty students, only five can pay these fees. Two others bring an occasional chicken or bag of beans. The rest rely on Betty's good heart. But that won't get them past preschool. The local primary schools cost three times as much and strictly turn away those who can't pay fees or buy uniforms. When Betty has no money to buy food for her own family, she reluctantly sends the kids home to collect late payments. Maurine knows her parents can barely afford food - school fees are out of the question. But like many others, Maurine will head down the dusty road and around the bend. Then she will squat by the roadside and wait ten minutes before returning. My dad is on his way, she says. Betty knows she won't get payment from Maurine. She will teach her anyway. But Maurine has mastered the preschool curriculum. Primary school seems impossible and time is running out. Maurine is already eleven years old. Maurine is one of fifteen neighborhood children that Betty would like to send to primary school: hard-working, enthusiastic kids who want to learn but can't pay the fees. Fourteen of these children have parents and guardians like Maurine's - people who dream of sending them to school and breaking the family cycle of poverty.
Now let me tell you about Cylas. His skin is darker than Maurine's, although it is hard to tell because he is usually covered in dust from his runny nose and oversized faded blue sweater to his bare calloused feet. Even his friends will tell you that Cylas is a troublemaker. He is constantly being reprimanded for hitting, shouting, running, and throwing things. He was kicked out of his previous preschool for fighting and stealing. His father thinks school is a waste of time; his mother doesn't have much to say. Indeed, his parents don't bother much with him at all, as long as he tends the cattle, looks after his siblings, and fetches water. He's lucky if he gets one meal a day. When Betty invited him to attend her preschool, the neighbors shook their heads and warned her, "Keep a big stick handy and use it liberally. He's used to beatings at home; it's the only way to get his attention. Not that it's much use - he'll be in jail before long..."
But let me tell you a little more about Cylas. He has never missed a day of school, even when he's sick. He's the first one there every morning. By the time Betty arrives, he has stacked the pews and swept out the little church with branches. He arranges the room neatly and has the other children clean up outside. When he catches sight of Betty, his whole face breaks into an enormous dimpled grin. He races to hold her hand and help carry her bags. When a visitor arrives at the preschool during break, he runs to get her. If the visitors are new parents, Betty will come to talk to them about the school, only to find that Cylas has already briefed them on the rules, uniform, fees, supplies, and 6 kg of maize each student it supposed to contribute.
Because the school has no doors or windows, the chalkboard, straw mats, notebooks, and pencils are kept locked in a nearby hut where Betty's nephew Jackson lives. One morning Betty was out walking through the compound at sunrise and was surprised to find all of the supplies stacked outside Jackson 's door. When she asked her nephew about it, he explained sheepishly, "Every morning this little kid in a blue sweater comes banging on the door at an ungodly hour, asking for the preschool stuff. I just wanted to sleep in for a change."
I don't know where Cylas gets his enthusiasm. Everything he does, he does with his whole heart. When he sweeps, the dust clouds fly up around him. When he fetches water to sprinkle on the mud floor, he runs back from the well so eagerly that the pitcher is half empty by the time he arrives. When the teacher asks a question, he raises his hand so high I fear he will dislocate his shoulder. When he sings in class, it is at the top of his lungs, and when he grins, he looks like he will burst with joy. He had to beg and plead with his parents to buy him a uniform, but he knows that's as much as he'll get out of them. For a while he tried Maurine's trick of waiting by the roadside when Betty sent him home for fees. Now he doesn't even bother - he just looks at her silently while tears trickle down his dusty cheeks. Despite the neighbors' advice, Betty never uses her big stick on Cylas. After months of patience and gentle explanations and corrections, Cylas fights much less and has stopped stealing entirely. He is learning slowly but steadily.
Most school programs will only work with parental support - someone needs to pay fees, buy uniforms and books, check the report cards, and help with the homework. Betty knows that. But she is haunted by images of what Cylas might become. She wants him to go to school, even if it means taking over the parental role herself, even though she has to struggle to pay school fees for her own children. "Don't worry," she says as we cook dinner over the fire, "I will be a serious second mother to Cylas." I believe her. She has already started coaching Maurine on her own time after school, in hopes that she will be able to skip first grade and start in second next January. Betty has carefully selected the fifteen children (none are related to her) she would like to help sponsor, and has already begun meeting with headmasters to make the necessary administrative arrangements. She will open a separate bank account and send me updates, financial statements, and report cards, as well as monitor the children's progress, homework, and supplies.
-Elke