Pop Goes the Savior Complex

Yesterday I had a very interesting experience. I tried to teach grade one. (Note the emphasis on the verb, “tried.”) The last few weeks I’ve spent a lot of time labeling books for the new school library in the headmaster’s office, which gave me plenty of time to overhear the hoots and hollers of the next-door grade one classroom. When I first moved to Chawama, I quickly learned that my understanding of adult supervision did not apply in Zambia. If you didn’t know, my resume shows that I am an excellent adult supervisor of children. I am a Red cross certified babysitter, an experienced nanny, and  a previous employed private school teacher. Most of the money I’ve earned in my life has been from watching other people’s children. It’s what I’ve done. It’s what I thought one should provide to children.

Kids in King David School's yard (Photo taken in October)

Here in Zambia, though, my six year old brother plays outside until dark, with no one checking on him, and he is expected to return home on his own. Our students roam free on school break times, often sent on errands by teachers into the street with the occasional crazy minibuses ambling by. Kids take care of themselves, and the adults around them for that matter. Sometimes during school hours a teacher will have to leave their classroom to talk to a parent, register a new student, or for a personal reason. When this happens, students lead themselves. The older grades pick up the textbooks sitting on the teacher’s desk and start copying notes on the board. Younger grades will be lead by an older student. No substitutes here.

Yesterday for the second day in a row a grade four student was in grade one acting like the teacher. She was imitating the discipline style here, holding her stick to keep order. As I sat there in the headmaster’s office, I couldn’t help but wonder if a child acting like teacher would constitute as child labor? Was child labor happening within earshot? I went back and forth in my head about what to do. Should a 4^th grader be left in charge of 1^st graders? Should the school allow this? Should I allow this?

I put my books down and confirmed with another teacher that the grade one teacher had left the school on an errand and wouldn’t return. I volunteered to take the job. Armed with some newly labeled library books, I stepped into the class.

Man are those kids cute, but what a disaster! Simply a disaster!

I’m not sure if it was the language barrier or just a new teacher stepping in, but I could simply not get the students to be quiet or stay sitting in their desks, which basically meant we couldn’t do anything. At one point I even thought I’d better let them move around for minute so I told them to come to me in the front of the room so we could sing a song or do something active. Well then I just had thirty kids literally hanging on to my clothes and arms and then another ten kids running out of the classroom to god knows where. I had lost control. I tried to teach the days of the week, colors and numbers, but the room was so loud, who knows if they got anything out of it.

I thought of my own first grade classroom and how easy it was to learn with a desk to myself, plenty of school supplies, a carpet to sit on with the class, all the books I wanted, and a university educated teacher.

I want a better learning environment for the kids at King David School, in Zambia, in the US, and all over the world. So often in this experience, just showing up and doing my best has been a triumph and a bridge to my community. But yesterday I was humbled by own inadequacy. I couldn’t give the kids what they needed to learn. The crushing challenges of education in Zambia were once again thrust in my face. And I had a newfound respect for my fellow teachers who maintain some type of order over their classes.

Teaching grade one reminded me that I can’t solve problems by myself. I can’t do it alone. Stepping up and bearing the weight isn’t even enough sometimes. When a problem arises at school or in the lives of one of my friends here, I often wonder, “what can I do?” Should I pay for something? Should I do something? There are many good things about this train of thought, but I wonder if a better question is “what can we do?” We, as in the school and I, that person and I, all you people back home and I, society as a whole and I…what can we do?

I couldn’t save grade one alone yesterday. Consider that savior complex bubble popped. But maybe the grade one teacher and I can work together some other way this year. Maybe years from now, I will remember how hard learning was for students and teachers yesterday, and I will go home and not shut up about it, and inspire others to do something. Maybe I’ll lobby the US government to provide better sustainable aid to Zambia or change its economic policies so that it doesn’t exploit developing countries. Maybe I’ll keep coming back to Zambia and my partnership with King David School will deepen.

I don’t regret my hectic, stressful time with those bouncy grade ones. I would even do it again. But next time I won’t think that my shiny badge in adult supervision makes me such a preferred candidate. There is so much I don’t know. So much.