Pencils Down

School is winding down. Easter break will begin in just a couple of days. It’s so hard to believe that the school year could begin in mid-October, and finish in mid-May. I know one Volunteer, out of nearly 30, who has said she has almost finished the curriculum for this year. I wish I had more time to complete the lessons I had wished to complete. I wish I had just one more month at CEG Manigri.

But I will not miss it.

I will not miss struggling to keep my temper down as students continue to talk and bicker amongst each other. I will not miss reprimanding 16 year old students for hitting younger students in class. I will not miss staring out at a sea of clueless faces, only wishing to lie face down on the bare cement floor. I will not miss drilling conjugation, sending students to be beaten, chalk dust, or dwindling class sizes as the year rolls onward.

I will not miss it.

I will not miss how kids will exclaim, “Teacharr!” when I’ve finally made a joke they understand. I will not miss the broken English phrases, phrases like, “I finish!”, “May I gho owwt?” and “Give me yo’ pen!” I will certainly not miss the headache of grading papers, filling out page after page of grades in different colored ink, and how no matter how many times I make them go back to their seats; they never wear shoes to the chalkboard.
I will not miss poorly pronouncing their names, names like Mournijatou, Souradji, Samoussirath, I will not miss children speaking to me in Nagot in front of other teachers just for laughs; or responding, knee-jerkingly, “oh-wah” or “moti yo”, to giggling girls in khaki.

I will not miss being strange, foreign, and awkward.

I will not miss acheke at 10am breakfast, or the harried woman who sells it. I will not miss the youngest students running out of their classroom to greet me and take my basket full of books and lesson plans. I will not miss them placing it on their heads and walking quickly back to class, breathing “goo’ morning teachar” through their winded smile. I won’t miss the other teachers, the men with their good-natured jokes and warm handshakes. I will not miss Hafissou asking me, “How do you feel?” and greeting Narcissis, through the door, with a salute. I will miss walking home with Arouna, I will miss getting fresh eggs, wagasi and cashew fruit from my students. I will miss the drumming, pounding and dancing part of singing in class. I will miss Zoumal, Douritimi, Azouma, Bariatou, Fassouni, and all three Azizes.

I will miss all of them. And I look forward to the last day, when I can tell them the impact they have had on me. How my life has been infinitely enriched as a result of their kindness, joviality, and strength. I will never know how (in)effective or influential my teaching or presence has been, but even if I have been a poor teacher, I am certain I am a good student. Finals are coming up.